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ms-demeanor · 2 months ago

Note

On insurance: I still live with my parents and don't know a lot yet about the sorts of things adults usually have to spend money on. I've always been skeptical of things like insurance and credit cards because it seems to me they wouldn't be selling that if they didn't expect to make money from it. I talked to my cousin a while ago about credit cards and basically came to the conclusion that they do that because they're betting on the customer getting sloppy and letting their debts stack up, and the way you beat that and get money from credit card companies is just by being careful.

I'm a little more confused about insurance though because it seems much more straightforwardly like a gamble they will simply not take if it won't pay off for them. Like, you don't go to a casino because every game they play at a casino is one they've done the math on and have determined that statistically most people will lose money on most of the time. Is insurance not kinda the same? Where they estimate the risk and then charge you an amount calculated to make sure it probably won't be worth it for you?

I know if you have a car you legally need car insurance so everyone knows you can pay for another car if you crash into someone, and I gather that here in the US at least health insurance companies have some kinda deal with hospitals so that the prices go down or something, and there's a reason I don't fully understand why not having health insurance is Really Bad. But we get to pet insurance, or like when I buy a concert ticket and it offers ticket insurance in case I can't make it to the show, and surely if they thought they were gonna lose money on that they just wouldn't sell it, right? Or they'd raise the price of it until it became worth the risk that something bad actually will happen? Wouldn't it only be worth it to buy insurance if you know something the insurance company doesn't?

So the deal is that most people don't use their insurance much, and often insurance companies will incentivize doing things that will make you use your insurance less.

So, for example, you can get a discount on car insurance if you have multiple cars because people who insure multiple cars are more likely to be responsible drivers (the ability to pay for multiple cars stands in as a representation of responsibility here). The longer you go without an accident, the lower your premiums get because that means that you are not costing your insurance company anything but you are paying into the system. The car insurance company's goal is to have the most responsible, safest drivers who never get into car accidents because they can predict (roughly) how much they're going to have to pay out to their customers and they want the number they pay out to be lower than what's paid in. So they try to discourage irresponsible drivers by raising their rates and encourage responsible drivers by giving them discounts.

Health insurance companies often do the same thing: I recently got a gift card from my health insurance company because I had a visit from a nurse who interviewed me about my overall health and made sure I had stable blood pressure and access to medications. It is literally cheaper for my insurance company to give me a $100 giftcard and hire a nurse to visit me than it is for me to go to my doctor's office a couple of times, so they try to make sure that their customers are getting preventative care and are seeing inexpensive medical professionals regularly so that they don't have to suddenly see very expensive professionals after a long time without care.

Insurance in the US has many, many, many problems and should be replaced with socialized healthcare for a huge number of reasons but right now, because it is an insurance-based system, you need to have insurance.

We're going to use Large Bastard as an example.

Large Bastard had insurance when he had his heart attack and when he needed multiple organs transplanted. He didn't *want* to be paying for insurance, because he thought he was healthy enough to get by, but I insisted. His premium is four hundred dollars a month, and his out of pocket maximum is eight thousand dollars a year. That means that every year, he pays about $5000 whether he uses his insurance or not, and if he DOES need to use the insurance, he pays the first $8k worth of care, so every year his insurance has the possibility of costing him thirteen thousand dollars.

The bill for his bypass surgery was a quarter million dollars.

The bill for his transplant was over one and a half million dollars.

His medication each month is around six hundred dollars. He needs to have multiple biopsies - which are surgeries - each year, and each one costs about twenty thousand dollars.

Without health insurance, he would very likely be dead, or we would be *even more* incapable of paying for his healthcare than we are right now. He almost ditched his insurance because he was a healthy-seeming 40-year-old and he didn't think he'd get sick. And then he proceeded to be the sickest human being I've ever known personally who did not actually die.

Health insurance costs a lot of money. It costs less money for people who are young and who are expected to be healthy. But the thing is, everybody pays into health insurance, and very, very few people end up using as much money for their medical expenses as Large Bastard did. There are a few thousand transplants in the US ever year, but there are hundreds of millions of people paying for insurance.

This ends up balancing out (sort of) so that people who pay for insurance get a much lower cost on care if they need it, hospitals get paid for the care they provide, and the insurance company makes enough money to continue to exist. Part of the reason that people don't like this scheme is because "insurance company" could feasibly be replaced by "government" and it would cost less and provide a better standard of care, but again, with things as they are now, you need to have insurance. Insurance companies are large entities that are able to negotiate down costs with the providers they work with, you are not. If you get hit by a car you may be able to get your medical bills significantly reduced through a number of means, but you're very unlikely to get your bills lower than the cost of insurance and a copay.

Because of the Affordable Care Act, which is flawed but which did a LOT of good, medical insurance companies cannot refuse to treat you because of preexisting conditions and also cannot jack up your premiums to intolerable rates - since Large Bastard got sick, he has had the standard price increases you'd expect from aging, but nothing like the gouging you might expect from an insurance company deciding you're not worth it.

Pet insurance works on the same model. Millions of people pay for the insurance, thousands of people end up needing it, a few hundred end up needing a LOT of it, and the insurance companies are able to make more money than they hand out, so they continue to exist. This is part of why it's less expensive to get pet insurance for younger animals - people who sign up puppies and kittens are likely to be paying for a very long time and are likely to provide a lot of preventative care for their animals, so they're a good bet for the insurer. Animals signed up when they are older are more likely to have health problems (and pet insurance CAN turn animals away for preexisting conditions) and are going to cost the insurance companies more, so they cost more to enroll (and animals over a certain age or with certain conditions may be denied entirely).

This weighing risk/reward is called actuarial science, and the insurance industry is built on it.

But yeah it's kind of betting. The insurance company says "I'll insure ten thousand dogs and I'm going to bet that only a hundred of them will need surgery at some point in the next year" and if they're correct, they make money and the dogs who need surgery get their surgery paid for out of the premiums from the nine thousand nine hundred dogs who didn't need surgery.

Your assessment of credit is correct: credit card companies expect that you will end up carrying a balance, and that balance will accrue interest, and the interest is how they make the money.

And it is EASY to fuck up financially as an adult. REALLY EASY. But you are still likely to need a good credit score so you will need a credit history. That means that the correct way to use a credit card is to have a card, but not carry a balance.

To do this, never buy anything on the card that you can't afford. In order to avoid needing the card for emergencies, start an emergency fund that is at least 3 months of your total pay *before* you get a credit card. That seems like a *lot* of savings to have, but from the perspective of someone who has had plenty of mess-ups, it's a lot easier to build up a $10k emergency fund than it is to pay off a $10k credit card debt.

If you don't understand how interest works on credit cards, or why a 10k savings is different than a 10k debt, here are some examples working with $10k of debt, 23% interest (an average-ish rate for people with average credit), and various payments.

With that debt and that interest, here's how much it costs and how long it would take to pay off with $200 as the monthly payment:

Fourteen years, and it would cost you about twenty four thousand dollars in interest, for a total amount paid of about thirty four thousand dollars.

To save $10k at $200 a month would take four years and two months.

Here's the same debt at $300 a month:

4.5 Years and it costs about six grand (again, just in interest - sixteen thousand dollars total). Saving ten thousand dollars at three hundred dollars a month would take just under three years.

Here's the same debt at $400 a month:

3 years, about $4000 dollars (fourteen thousand dollars total). Saving ten thousand dollars at $400 a month takes just over two years.

The thing is, with all of these models you're going to end up paying one way or another. Insurance vs out of pocket is you weighing the risk of losing a fair amount of money by signing up but not using the system, or potentially losing a catastrophic amount of money by not signing up.

For credit cards they really only work if you know you're never going to need them for an emergency, because an emergency is what you're not going to be able to pay off right away. I didn't have an emergency fund when Large Bastard had his heart attack and needed surgery, or when we moved between states suddenly, or when we moved between states suddenly AGAIN and needed to pay storage costs, or when Large Bastard needed a transplant, or when Tiny Bastard got in a fight with my MiL's dog, and the fact that I didn't have an emergency fund is still costing me a lot of money.

So, young folks out there: what's the takeaway?

Get insurance. Get the best deal possible, which usually ends up being the one you sign up for early. You may think you can let it ride without insurance, but man in the six months between when I graduate college (and lost my school insurance) and when care kicked in after 90 days at my job I got electrocuted and needed to go to the ER. If that hadn't been a worker's comp payout I would have had thousands of dollars in bills. Something could happen. You could break your leg, you could get hit by a car, you could suddenly find out that you actually have heart disease at twenty, you could develop cancer. Have insurance, you need insurance. You legally need car insurance in the US, and you financially need health insurance. If you have a pet, I think it's a good idea for them to have pet insurance.

Credit cards are not for emergencies, they are not for fun, they are not for buying things that are just ever so slightly out of your budget, they are for taking advantage of the credit card company and managing to get by in a system that demands you have a credit score. ONLY put purchases on your credit card that you already have cash for. Before you get a credit card, build up an emergency savings so that you aren't tempted to put emergency charges on your card.

If you DO end up with an interest-bearing debt, pay it off as fast as possible because letting it linger costs you a LOT of money in the long run.

Stay the fuck away from tobacco and nicotine products they are fucking terrible for you, they are fucking expensive, and they are not worth it put the vapes down put the zyns down put the cigarettes down I will begin manifesting in your house physically i swear to fuck. Knock that shit off and put the cash that you'd be spending on nicotine into a savings account.

Take care, sorry everything sucks, I promise that in some ways it actually sucks less than it did before and we're working on trying to make it suck even less but it's taking a while.

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occamstfs · 9 months ago

Text

Rosa's Cafe

Here's a longer Racial TF set in a coffee shop, Best! Occam

Matthew had clocked up more hours of overtime for his company than they were willing to pay him. He assumed that their guidelines weren’t so rigid and that he would be fine to get ahead early. These days you really need to go above and beyond to get ahead and Matthew was determined to get in the good graces of the big bosses.

Unfortunately working so hard was a misplay. His direct boss was forcing him to take Paid Time Off in lieu of the overtime pay for the past year. Now he sits at home with next to nothing to do, twiddling his thumbs until he can return to the grind. He loved back when he was a barista in college? Maybe he can get back to customer service?

Reflecting on this he takes to LinkedIn to see if there are any managerial spots open for a cafe. Something needs to scratch his itch for administration and he night as well pour coffee while doing so. In a stroke of luck, or perhaps something more deliberate, as soon as he logs in to check listings he sees a manager position at “Rosa’s Cafe.”

He auto-submits his resume to the restaurant assuming he’s overqualified before even reading the listing’s qualifications. Glancing through them he sees that they’d prefer someone fluent in Spanish. Matthew struggles to recall what if any Spanish remains in his head from taking it in both high school and college. He starts to pull up a language app on his phone before seeing that, jarringly fast, he has already been advanced to an interview for this cafe. Rosa herself sending him a message to come as soon as he’s ready.

Matthew then sprints to check himself in a mirror. He has certainly not slacked in his hygiene since he was asked to stop coming into work, partially in hopes that they’ll need him to come in any day. Today though he throws on some cologne and drives off to Rosa’s Cafe. He doesn’t stop to question how odd it is to already be on the way to an interview, minutes after submitting his resume. They must just really need someone?

As soon as he arrives Rosa is there at the door to greet him, smiling wide and welcoming him into her establishment.

“Hola Matthew! So glad for you to join us, your application was outstanding! Solamente, I was wondering why you wanted this job given your current one?”

Matthew blushes and explains his situation, struggling not to sound like a maniac for wanting to work despite the relatively cushy situation he is in. Although Rosa hears this and is impressed at his ethic, his crave to work. Rosa was more than happy to take advantage of his situation.

“Uhhh there was just one thing though, Miss. Oh uh, lo siento. Señora Rosa.”

“Sí, sí. You aren’t quite fluent en Español, are you Matthew?” He averts his eyes but before he can answer Rosa continues on, “Esta bien. You will just learn on the job sí?”

Putting on an air of determination Matthew pumps his fist “Sí, Sra Rosa! Uh claro que sí,” he attempts, stepping to the limit of the Spanish remaining in his head. Rosa gives him a look like an owner watching a pet as it tries to show off, offering an ambiguous smile before explaining her stance.

“Claro que sí,” offering a knowing nod, “I’m sure you understand why I would want a manager to speak Español, yes? En esta ciudad, in this city, there are very few places where Español is the default. I would just like my cafe to be one of them. The job is of course yours, I would be a fool not to take the opportunity. But while you’re here, mientras estás aquí, please work on su Espanol,” tacking on, “I can’t imagine it will be too long before you’re called back to your job eh? Una estrella como tu”

To her point there are clearly not a lot of people speaking English in the cafe. Matthew would guess he is probably the only native English speaker present making him blush, although after being flattered by Rosa he was ready to accept. After all he had been meaning to practice his Spanish anyway. He puts his hand out to shake her hand, “when can I start?”

“Well, mi pequeño gerente, why not start training now?” Turning around she calls over the barista Juan to introduce the two, talking to Juan at a speed that made it clear to Matthew that she was quite dumbing down her language in their conversation. She then bids farewell to the two, “adios Matthew! Tengo que ah, cόmo se dice, file your paperwork. Hasta mañana!”

“Hola Matthew, it is nice to meet you! Rosa said to show you around,” Juan smiles offering him a cup of their house roast. “Espero que, ah, I hope you don’t mind but I added canella, cinnamon.” Matthew graciously accepts the cup. He may be a world removed from his time as a barista but instantly returns to his first coffee tasting.

It smelled quite strong, darker than he usually prefers and he can see cinnamon swirling through the cup as the cup steams in his hand. He begins to bring the cup up for a closer smell although as soon as the movement begins the allure of the drink overpowers him and he drinks almost too quickly. It was delicious. He always, almost performatively, drank black coffee at his old job. Or no, his real job?

Juan sees Matthew continue to gulp down the cup of coffee waiting for reaction, though he sees very little sign of his mind processing the drink at all. Matthew’s just staring ahead, his eyes ever so slightly glazing over as he finishes the cup. He grins as it almost looks like the coffee has stained Matthew’s upper lip, offering a napkin before asking, “te gusta hermano?”

Matthew snaps back to his senses, staring at Juan as a small ring of brown starts to stain the center of his icy blue eyes. He struggles to even find the words to describe how profoundly he enjoyed the coffee. It was a passion too great for him to even begin to capture in English. “Juan, that was, cómo se dice? Is there some word better than delicioso?”

Juan laughs putting his arm around his new manager, “Ay hermano! Maybe that’s what you should do now! You just go work on your Spanish and I’ll bring you some samples! Ah, aqui, the employee handbook is in Spanish, practica perfecta!” He brings over another cup and the handbook and Matthew starts struggling through it.

Matthew figuratively bashes his head into the handbook, it’s not dense but it is per cierto not written with beginners in mind. Smirking as he notices he just reflexively thought in Spanish, going to get another drink only to find the cup emptied once more. He hasn’t been drinking nearly as much since he left the office, bargaining with himself as Juan comes to refill his cup. He can cut back his intake later, he needs to get this through this work.

And work at it he does, caffeine is not making him feel wired as usual but sensual as he continues to page through the booklet. He starts to stretch just to feel the strain in his muscles and the tension in his clothes. He looks down and sees his shirt is fitting much better than he thought it did. It’s not tight but anyone who looks can see there is muscle under there. He stares at his own body feeling strength he does not remember cultivating. Suddenly he notices it’s not only his upper body that’s filling out, as a growing package begins to demand attention under the table. These jeans were clearly not designed to handle this and Matthew is barely able to stop himself from flexing to see just how much he truly can fill this outfit and he attempts to switch gears back to working. Urgently feeling adverse to thinking any further about his body.

Struggling to find any way to distract himself he remembers being historically shit at actually speaking in Spanish. This is as good a chance as any to practice his pronunciation. Matthew begins to mouth the words in the handbook, feeling his tongue in unfamiliar ways that he swears he has done a million times before. Matthew attempts to raise his practice to a whisper and immediately goes into a coughing fit. Hope that coffee didn’t burn my throat he thinks clearing his throat and finding a much deeper voice on the other side. One that announces his Spanish progress to the whole cafe shockingly loud for a whisper though Matthew doesn’t notice. What is immediately apparent to him is how expertly he rolled an R.

He knows he could never do that, and not without trying. He probably spent half an hour practicing it his sophomore year. He reflects back on how hard he worked on Spanish in the past as his eyes start to glaze over once more. Something is off here, his hand raising to his face not notice a moustache and sloppy goatee start to push out of his face. He foes feel itchy elsewhere though, scratching at his chest and stomach, averting the more animalistic urge to scratch his pits and crotch as Juan begins to walk over.

Matthew quickly tries to meet him halfway, standing to a height just taller than the one he thought he knew to be true. His bulge grazes the bottom of the table which causes his body to convulse in pleasure. His feet are caught on the table as he falls knocking his coffee all over himself and the floor. “Mierda!” He shouts before going dark.

He awakens to Juan wiping coffee off his face, his clothes now certainly stained brown and spelling of rich coffee and cinnamon. Helping him back to standing, Juan makes sure he is alright, “quite the fall amigo! Tal vez we call it a day?” Matthew hastily agrees feeling impossibly strained and weary for what little work he has actually done. Juan continues, “Rosa said the paperwork should be good for you to start tomorrow if you can!” Stumbling to his feet Matt knows he agrees but the rest of his night is little more than a blur.

He sees Juan wink at him and knows he is going to start tomorrow. He must drive home after that since he is now looking at himself in the mirror brushing his teeth. Something seems off, he is clearly too tired to put a finger on exactly what it is. He flexes his bicep noticing he must have completely disrobed. He thought he shaved his pits recently. He scratches at his crotch realizing that his now heavier cock is also out, pawing at his pubes and feeling his bulge expand even further into his hand before forcing it into some briefs and continuing his audit.

Didn’t he have a tan? Looking at himself up and down he feels like he isn’t supposed to be this pale right? Isn’t he from? Matthew feels lightheaded and begins to collapse once more before being jarred back to reality smelling the coffee and cinnamon scent still hugging his chest. Using this second wind he stumbles into bed, neglecting to change into his nightclothes and he quickly drifts to sleep.

Matt falls into a dream that feels realer than the reality of his previous life. It’s the middle of the rush and he sees himself working at an espresso machine with Juan. He looks down seeing his body expertly maneuver around the bar, tossing cinnamon into drinks, chatting with customers in truly fluent Spanish. He pauses in this dreamscape to notice the tan he was so sure he had earlier. He sees the tattooed arms he has known for years, he worked hard enough for them after all, might as well show them off on the clock. He raises the hairy arms to flex at Juan and say something clever in his native tongue before being jarred back to reality by a sunbeam.

Matt awakens hearing his morning wood stretch his briefs to their near limit barely able to keep himself together before seeing the time and once more shouting “mierda!” He is already so late for work, they’ve been open for hours. It’s his first real day and he has already jod- he’s already fucked it up! He quickly inspects himself once more, seeing the true version of himself he saw in his dream. Seeing his recently shaved chest he quickly realizes he doesn’t have time for a shower. He smells his pits just to see how bad the damage is. His voice rumbles in his chest, “joder…”

He smells again even deeper, it reminds him of? Oh it is just on the tip of his tongue, which he begins to reach out before remembering his predicament. He throws on a dress shirt before giving one last whiff to his pits, flexing his pecs as he does so. It is so fragrant, almost spicy. Matt postpones the mystery after concluding it should certainly be covered by the smell at Rosa’s and rushing out the door. Not seeing as his chest pops off the top button of his shirt and his neat goatee begins to grow even thicker.

Matt rushes into the door and is greeted like a regular, which he is of course to be now, as the new manager. He feels a warmth in his chest as Juan brings over his first cup of the day. “Buenos días Juan!” Matt offers before going to meet the chef, Benito, as the plan was today.

Making his way back to the kitchen he smells something even more distracting to him than his body odor this morning. Benito runs over with a plate full of arepas that Matt recognizes instantly before Benito greets him, “buenos dias jefe! Rosa said you wanted us to start serving arepas sí?”

“Rosa? She said, I asked for these?”

“Si! Desde su ciudad natal no?”

Matt’s mouth is overcome as he starts to clearly drool for the plate in front of him. He has no choice but to tear into one which immediately brings him back. He loved these when he was a kid, but? Didn’t he grow up en los estados? Wasn’t he from? He fails to finish the thought in his head before it is wiped away as if fireworks are going of in his mind.

He beams at Benito as his eyes glaze over and fully darken to brown. He feels an urge to burp which he chokes down with another cup of coffee. “Ay this takes me back amigo, estos son exactamente como, like the ones mi abuela había before nos pequeños…” Matt pauses as he feels a pervasive warmth starts to grow distracting in his chest as a similar itch begins on the outside.

He doesn’t notice as his inner monologue begins to entirely shift away from English, as it should of course. He may live in los Estados hoy, but he was colombiano born and bred. He remembers how hard he worked as a child learning English as his biceps start to clearly strain the already tight dress shirt.

Matt remembers fighting for his place to get a degree at a university that did not respect his native country or tongue as he feels his voice deepen beyond baritone and into a strong bass. He remembers trying to find a place in this mierda ciudad before meeting Rosa as his chest bursts open shooting any buttons remaining off his shirt.

Rosa then enters the kitchen to see how her new hire has progressed and slyly smiles seeing his progress. She tosses a shirt at him saying in Spanish now effortlessly understood “Oi Matteo! You’re in the kitchen put some clothes on!”

Matteo shuffles to the restroom to change as he looks one last time in the mirror and sees the flawless trajabador he sees every time he checks himself out. He puts on his nametag flexing to see just how much he can strain his shirt before returning to the cafe, ready to conquer another day in the life he has worked so hard for.

#racial change #male tf #muscle tf #mental change #race change #masculinization

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atinyslittleworld · 6 months ago

Text

Beneath the Western Sky

cowboy!san x f!reader

Summary: Choi San, a charming cowboy, frequents a saloon in the small town of Red River, where he falls for Y/N, the younger daughter of the stern saloon owner. Despite San's persistent efforts to win Y/N's heart, her father disapproves and warns him to stay away.

Genre: a little angst, mainly fluff

Warnings: mention of guns

The sun was beginning to set over the dusty plains, casting a warm, golden hue over the small frontier town of Red River. Choi San, a rugged cowboy with a reputation for being both charming and reckless, sauntered down the main street, spurs jingling with every step. He adjusted his hat and glanced around, his eyes inevitably drawn to the bustling saloon at the end of the street – the place where he spent many nights with his mates, and more importantly, where the object of his affections worked.

The younger daughter of the saloon owner, Y/N, was a vision of beauty and grace. She had a laugh that could light up the darkest of rooms and a smile that made San's heart race every time he saw her. Despite his best efforts to woo her, Y/N remained elusive, always managing to slip away just when he thought he was getting close.

San pushed open the swinging doors of the saloon and made his way to the bar, where Y/N was busy serving drinks to the rowdy patrons. She glanced up and caught his eye, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips.

"Evening, San," she said, her voice like a melody to his ears.

"Evening, Y/N," he replied, leaning against the bar. "How's the night treating you?"

"Busy as always," she said, pouring a drink for a nearby customer. "What brings you here tonight?"

"Same as always," San said, his tone teasing. "A drink and some good company."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Is that so? Well, you'll have to work for it."

Before San could respond, the saloon doors swung open again, and the burly figure of Y/N's father, Mr. Cruz, strode in. His stern expression and imposing presence were enough to make even the toughest of cowboys think twice about crossing him. He caught sight of San at the bar and his eyes narrowed.

"San," Mr. Cruz said, his voice gruff. "What are you doing here?"

San straightened up, trying to appear casual. "Just enjoying a drink, Mr. Cruz. No harm in that, is there?"

Mr. Cruz’s gaze shifted to Y/N, who was watching the exchange with a hint of amusement. "As long as you're not bothering my daughter, I suppose it's fine."

San held up his hands in mock surrender. "Wouldn't dream of it, sir."

With a final, suspicious glance, Mr. Cruz turned and headed to the back of the saloon. San let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and looked back at Y/N, who was stifling a laugh.

"Your father's a hard man to impress," San said, shaking his head.

Y/N shrugged, still smiling. "He means well. Just looking out for me, I suppose."

"Can't blame him for that," San admitted. "But it does make things a bit difficult."

"Maybe that's the point," Y/N said, leaning a little closer. "Keeps the wrong kind of men away."

San's eyes sparkled with determination. "And what about the right kind of men?"

Y/N's smile widened, but she said nothing, turning back to her work. San watched her for a moment before deciding it was time to up his game. He couldn't let her slip through his fingers again.

Over the next few weeks, San made a point to visit the saloon more often, always finding an excuse to talk to Y/N. He helped around the place, offered to fix things that were broken, and even took on some of the rowdier patrons to keep the peace. His efforts did not go unnoticed, least of all by Y/N.

One evening, as the saloon was closing up, San found Y/N sweeping the floor. He approached her, tipping his hat with a grin.

"Need any help?" he asked.

Y/N looked up, surprised but not displeased. "Sure, if you don't mind."

San grabbed a broom and started sweeping, working alongside her in companionable silence. After a while, he cleared his throat, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye.

"You know, Y/N, I've been thinking..."

"About what?" she asked, not looking up from her task.

"About you," he said simply. "And how much I'd like to get to know you better."

Y/N paused, leaning on her broom as she studied him. "And what makes you think I want to get to know you better, San?"

San shrugged, his smile never wavering. "A man can hope, can't he?"

Y/N shook her head, though there was a hint of a smile on her lips. "You're persistent, I'll give you that."

"I'll take that as a compliment," San said, stepping closer. "So, what do you say? Give me a chance?"

Before Y/N could respond, the door to the back room opened, and Mr. Cruz stepped out. He took one look at San standing so close to his daughter and his expression darkened.

"San, I thought I told you to stay away from my daughter," Mr. Cruz said, his voice low and dangerous.

San straightened, meeting Mr. Cruz’s gaze without flinching. "I mean no disrespect, sir. I just want a chance to prove myself."

Mr. Cruz crossed his arms, his eyes cold. "And why should I give you that chance?"

"Because I care about her," San said earnestly. "And I think she cares about me too."

Mr. Cruz looked at Y/N, who was watching the exchange with a mixture of surprise and hope. Before she could say anything, a loud crash came from outside the saloon, followed by shouting and the sound of galloping hooves. All three of them turned toward the noise.

"What's going on out there?" Y/N asked, worry etched on her face.

San quickly moved toward the door, peeking outside. "Looks like a gang of outlaws," he said grimly. "Causing trouble again."

Mr. Cruz's face hardened. "We need to keep everyone inside safe."

San nodded, his mind racing. "Y/N, get the women and children to the back. Mr. Cruz, you and I will hold the front."

Y/N didn't need to be told twice. She quickly ushered the few remaining patrons to the back rooms while San and Mr. Cruz readied themselves. The outlaws were getting closer, their shouts growing louder.

The door burst open, and a group of rough-looking men stormed in, guns drawn. San and Mr. Cruz sprang into action, their own weapons at the ready. A tense standoff ensued, the saloon filled with the sounds of shouting and gunfire.

San moved with the grace and precision of a seasoned cowboy, taking down several outlaws while protecting the saloon and its occupants. Mr. Cruz fought alongside him, his fierce determination matching San's. The two men, despite their differences, worked together seamlessly.

In the midst of the chaos, San caught sight of Y/N peeking out from the back room. Her eyes widened with fear and concern as she watched him. He knew he had to end this quickly to keep her safe.

With a final burst of energy, San disarmed the remaining outlaws, sending them fleeing from the saloon. The noise died down, and the dust settled. San and Mr. Cruz stood in the now-quiet saloon, breathing heavily but victorious.

Y/N rushed out from the back room, her eyes searching for San. When she saw him standing there, unharmed, she ran to him, throwing her arms around him.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Thank you for keeping us safe."

San held her close, his heart pounding. "I'd do anything for you, Y/N."

Mr. Cruz approached them, his stern expression softening as he looked at San. "You proved yourself tonight, San. Maybe I was wrong about you."

San nodded, grateful for the older man's words. "Thank you, sir."

Mr. Cruz glanced at Y/N, then back at San. "You take care of her, you hear me?"

San tightened his hold on Y/N. "I will. I promise."

With the danger passed and the saloon slowly returning to normal, Y/N looked up at San, her eyes filled with a mixture of relief and admiration.

"You really are something, San," she said softly.

San smiled, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Does that mean you'll give me a chance?"

Y/N pretended to consider it for a moment before nodding. "Alright, cowboy. You've got yourself a chance."

San's grin widened, and he leaned in, capturing her lips in a tender kiss. As they stood there, surrounded by the remnants of the night's chaos, they knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, they would face them together.

#choi san #san #san x reader #ateez fic #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #ateez

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 2 years ago

Text

The Orange.

You and Jake share an orange. He’s in love with you.

Part 2 - For Eternity.

Pairing - Jake Seresin x female reader

Warnings - None

Word Count - 2047

Masterlist. Requests.

The air conditioning rattles gently, keeping you company. You’re sat at the bar of The Hard Deck, reading the book that’s been sitting forgotten on your nightstand for months. Outside, you can hear the cheering and yelling coming from the Dagger Squad, who are playing their new favourite game – Dog Fight Football. Ever since Maverick introduced it, they’ve been hooked, finding any reason to gather at the beach and take each other down.

You man the bar while Penny sits on the beach, watching her partner and his team sprint across the sand. Inevitably, soon they’ll all come running inside, requesting water, beer, and popsicles to cool their heated skin and flushed faces. You prefer to shelter yourself away from the sun during the day, and make the most of the warm summer nights that seem to last forever.

You’re already mentally planning your evening – you’ll finish your shift, grab a drink, and walk down the beach, perhaps taking your book with you. You’ll sit on the cooling sand, rest your legs, and stay there until the ocean breeze gives you your cue to leave. You’ll offer Jake to join you, and he’ll make a big show of being sarcastically reluctant – but he’ll never say no to you. Those sunset conversations have become the best part of your days – and his.

Your friendship with Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin is a seemingly unlikely one. Arrogant, charming, decorated Naval Aviator meets intelligent, determined, stubborn waitress. When the Dagger Squad arrived in town for the uranium mission, Penny had given you a sarcastic, but slightly genuine warning.

“You better watch out, you know”, she says in passing one night. You quirk your eyebrow at her questioningly.

“These pilots. They’re gonna be all over you. Fresh new eye candy for them to fight over.” She winks at you cheekily and leaves you to serve another customer.

You knew it was always just convenience, for the Aviators. You were pretty, and witty, and served them their drinks every night. You were in their line of sight. They didn’t really want you, you were just available. Easy. Or so you thought.

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin showed up that night with the confidence of ten men. The minute he laid eyes on you, you felt it. Some sort of shift. A crack in your universe.

He’d sidled up to the bar with a swagger in his walk that should have been off putting – but strangely wasn’t. The moment you heard that thick drawl flow like honey from his lips, you knew you’d have to use every ounce of self control you possessed. He was gorgeous.

And cocky.

The man had gotten accustomed to having women throw themselves at his feet. All he had to do was flash that gleaming smile, and he’d have girls dropping their barriers – and their underwear. He was a ladies man, and he knew it. You were aware he only ever spent a night with them – having had to rescue him from many awkward confrontations at the bar, usually along the lines of, “why didn’t you call me back?” and “you said you’d make breakfast!”.

You, however, became the exception to his rule. You didn’t expect anything from him, just his kindness, which he would happily give you by the tonne. Your kindness though, is what started your friendship in the first place. Or maybe it was stupidity. You were still deciding.

It was a Friday night at The Hard Deck. The Squad were over by the pool tables, drinking, and throwing darts. You’d been subtly watching Hangman from your position behind the bar. He was bragging to Coyote about being able to hit the bullseye with his eyes closed, and proceeded to demonstrate. He closed his eyes, hit the target, and reopened them to be met with an angry brunette with a point to prove.

“Excuse me, Hangman! You think you can just sneak out of my house, not call me, and then come in here and play darts like nothing happened?”

She jabs her finger angrily into his chest, but he doesn’t move. Stubborn man.

“Sweetheart,” he drawls, “let’s not do this here. I’m sorry I didn’t call. But I thought you knew; it was just a one time thing.”

He lays his charm on thick, and you see her falter for a minute. You’re almost willing her to give up, and save herself the inevitable embarrassment. But lo and behold, she continues.

She’s shouting now, yelling about his treatment of women, and how he should be ashamed, how he led her on with his false intentions. His squad are watching silently, attempting to stifle the laughter that threatens to bubble up between them. Javy has managed to take a few subtle steps back, as if to get as far away as possible from the danger zone.

She’s still yelling, and he’s just stood there, with that damned smirk on his face, taking it. You know whatever he’s going to say next is undoubtedly going to shred the poor girl’s self confidence, so, without much thought, you move from behind the bar, and make your way to the scene.

Placing your hand on his ridiculously toned bicep, you look up at him, praying that he’ll understand what you’re trying to silently say. You’re saving him.

��Babe, what’s going on?”, you ask cluelessly, as if you hadn’t been watching the entire situation unfold from mere feet away.

“Babe?”, she yells, more at the universe than at either of you.

Jake, for once, doesn’t quite know what to say. So, you continue.

“Yeah. I have no idea what’s happening, but I think we should talk.”

You look at him pointedly, and he seems to get the message. You apologise to the girl quickly, and drag Jake away, through the bar and out of the back door, into the cool evening air. You speak before he has the chance to.

“Please, Hangman. Keep your soap opera disaster of a love life out of my bar. No one wants to see it.”

It’s your turn now to jab your pointer finger into his chest. You expect him to snap back with a sarcastic remark, or to laugh. But he doesn’t. He just looks at you. Really looks. As if he’s seeing you for the first time, despite you serving him his beers every time he comes into the bar. Eventually, he speaks.

“You really are an angel, aren’t you?”

It’s your turn to look at him now. That wasn’t what you expected. You scoff, and raise your eyebrows at him.

“Seriously, Jake. It isn’t my business what you do with your spare time, but please, save us all from having to watch the car crash every week.”

He laughs. A real, genuine, hearty laugh, that settles itself into your ribs, into the cavity of your chest. You’ve never heard him laugh like that. It makes you like him more. Damn.

“I’m kinda done with it all anyway.”

“Done with what?”

“The sleeping around. One night stands. None of those girls are half as interesting or half as pretty as you.”

He’s looking at you again. You’re determined not to let him get under your skin, so you bark,

“Yeah, right. Bet you say that to all the girls, huh, Seresin?”

He laughs, and then pauses, million dollar smile still etched on his face.

“I’m serious. You won’t have to rescue me like that again, Angel. That’s a promise.”

He winks at you, and you swat his arm, before grabbing his hand and leading him back inside.

That was months ago.

Since then, you’ve spent an increasing amount of time with him. Laughing, joking, teasing. His friendship is more valuable than his weight in gold, you’re convinced, and you lower your guard ever so slightly. He’s worth letting in. You know he is. Warnings be damned.

You smell him before you see him when he enters the bar. He smells like cologne, salt, and sunshine – so distinct, so Jake. You’d bottle it up if you could, store a vial in every room in your house.

You feel him before you see him when he makes his way over to you. Feel his body get closer, the heat radiating off him. You can almost feel the salt on his skin when he plasters himself against your back, kissing the top of your head affectionately.

“Mmm, you smell good. What you reading, Angel?”

He’s moved to sit on the stool next to you. At this angle, you get a better look at him. He’s not wearing a shirt, golden skin on display. Begging for you to touch it, run your fingers along it, your tongue. You know he’d taste like the ocean and the sky simultaneously. Sunshine boy.

You pull yourself back to reality, and show him the cover of your book.

“Ah, smart girl.”

The praise lights up your bones, seems to settle into your ribs. You know, like all friendship does.

You look at him, and clock him watching you. He’s looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky.

Jake Seresin is in love with you.

You can see it clear as day, all of a sudden. Like you’ve been looking at him through a fog, a mist, and it’s evaporated without a warning.

He’s in love with you.

Unbeknownst to you, he’s kept his promise from that night. No more girls, no more one night stands. Since that evening, he’s only had one woman on his mind. You.

You’ve become suddenly aware of all of this, and you don’t know what to do with it. What about your friendship? What if this jeopardises everything? Losing him would be your worst nightmare. You’d rather have him as a friend than not have him at all.

But then, you realise, that’s not going to happen. Because he’s in love with you. And like a freight train, it hits you. You’re in love with him. You have been since the moment he stepped foot in the bar, all self-assured attitude and golden hair and bright eyes. You’re in love with Jake Seresin and he’s in love with you and the world is suddenly making sense. The final piece of the jigsaw puzzle has been placed and you don’t know whether to laugh or cry or scream or dance or all four or none at all.

So you stand, and make your way behind the bar. You slide a glass of ice cold water in front of him, and grab an orange. It’s ripe, bright and feels like a ball of light in your hand. A promise.

You sit back in your original position, on the stool next to his, but turn to face him. Carefully, you peel the orange, bit by bit. Juice runs down your fingers onto the palm of your hand, and without thinking, Jake grabs your wrist and traces the journey of the drop with his tongue. You look up through your lashes and smile at him gently, and continue to peel, slowly, deliberately. When you’re satisfied, you split the orange, and hand one half to him.

The air conditioning rattles gently, keeping you company. You eat in silence, stopping occasionally to inhale the smell of citrus, salt, and sunshine.

Jake reaches out as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, and runs his thumb across your bottom lip carefully. He places his thumb in his mouth, and sucks gently.

You’re not sure if it’s you, or him, or gravity, but somehow, you’ve ended up sat with your legs in between his, facing each other. Orange finished, he leans in, and brushes your lips with his. He tastes like citrus, and salt, and sunshine. So distinctly Jake, that you’d bottle it if you could. He pulls back, resting his forehead on yours. There’s a warmth emanating from him that you’re sure isn’t solely from the sun. You haven’t been outside in hours, and you’re omitting it too.

It feels like hours that you sit there, foreheads pressed together, orange peel abandoned on the bar top. Neither of you needs to speak. You both know exactly what the other person is thinking.

Jake Seresin is in love with you. Nothing else matters.

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dilatorywriting · 2 years ago

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Heroes vs. Villains : Diasomnia

Gender Neutral Reader x Diasomnia vs. Prince Stefan Word Count: 3.9k

Summary: Woe to the Ramshackle Prefect, being caught up in the drama between the Disney Villains and their respective heroes. Diasomnia Version

ie. Wherein Malleus invites you along to Briar Valley's Festival of Roses and Sebek drives you to near insanity. Thankfully (?) getting lost in the chaos means you meet another wayward soul.

[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3]

“I don’t think Sebek likes me very much,” you sighed.

“Oh?” Malleus blinked, clearly a bit thrown by the sudden accusation. “What would make you think that?”

Your glare swiveled pointedly to a sharp bolt of green just barely poking out from behind one of the many dilapidated pillars. Sebek’s yellow eyes slowly rose up with the rest of him, and the half-fae glowered at you like a pissy tomcat.

Malleus’s brilliant, neon, gaze slowly tracked yours, and when it met with his Knight’s startled gaping, his brow furrowed in annoyance. His irritated scowl was always a bit hard to read. Was he being pouty? Murderous? Both? Hell if you knew.

“I see,” he sighed after a moment, long suffering.

You just hummed in grumpy agreement as Sebek tried to duck back down behind the debris.

You and Malleus had clicked from the get-go. Perhaps it was because he’d never really had a friend before, and you were far too stupid and naïve about the rules of this new world to understand anything about the implications behind that. The Fae Prince was easy company—he was smart, with a dry, oblivious sort of humor that could leave you in stitches. His ensuing confusion about why you were laughing was always a surefire way to get you laughing harder. You enjoyed his company immensely, and you liked to think that he enjoyed yours enough in turn that perhaps your fleeting humanity had left at least a teensy impression on his near-immortal soul. Or, you know, whatever. At the very least, you were a semi willing student for his nightly architecture lectures, and you knew that at least put you in better standing than, say, Leona.

So when you received a personal summons to the Briar Valley’s Festival of Roses—hand delivered by the Crown Prince himself—you were over the moon.

“You seemed interested in our customs,” Malleus had explained. “And seeing as I invaded your home over the Halloween festivities, it only seems right that this time I extend you the invitation into mine.”

You agreed enthusiastically, because hell-fucking-yes you wanted to see all the mystical, magical, mumbo-jumbo that this world had to offer. Sure, you were trapped here for an indefinite amount of time, but you would be damned if you let the only cool part of any of that miserable uncertainty go to waste.

“Is there anything I should know?” you asked, fighting the urge to bop around the carriage like a toddler on a sugar high. Because that’s how you were travelling. In an honest-to-goodness horse drawn carriage. (Or, well, magic drawn or something.) “So that I don’t embarrass any of you or anything, I mean.”

Lilia was smirking over at you with a kind of fond amusement that you assumed meant he’d picked up on your rabid excitement from a mile away. Your vibrating was probably shaking his seat. Occasionally his wine-red irises would flick to Malleus, and that smirk would curl into something sharper, something mischievous.

“Humans aren’t too common to see,” Malleus said, with the same, odd sort of tension about him that had rocketed through his too-tall frame the moment you’d climbed into the seat beside him. “But they are not entirely unfamiliar either. You should be treated fairly.”

Your horned friend had been strangely silent throughout most of this journey. The weirdest part was that he seemed absolutely determined to stare out the window—head turned at a sharp angle, his hands clasped neatly in his lap and shoulders pulled so stiff and straight that he could have been one of the gargoyles that he so loved. And for someone who usually made far too much eye contact, the lack of acknowledgement was a bit unnerving.

“You’ll be more than fine as you are,” Lilia translated, the points of his fangs peeking out from behind his grin. “And I can promise you that any guest of Malleus’s will be welcomed with open arms.”

Malleus continued his resolute stare down with the glass and Lilia snickered into his palm. Sebek made a strangled noise from his seat across from you. He hadn’t been particularly vocal thus far about his disapproval of your inclusion (you doubted Sebek had it in him to openly question any decision of Malleus’s), but the look of complete and utter dismay twisting his face was telling enough.

You leaned in and prodded Malleus gently in the side.

“I won’t be, like, executed or something if someone hears me call you ‘Tsunotarou,’ will I?”

Sebek squawked and there was a sudden strike of lightning just outside the carriage window that rattled the entire coach with an echoing boom.

“No,” Malleus said emphatically, his lime-green glower zeroing in on you for the first time since this entire venture began. “No one will touch you, no matter what indiscretions they may think to assume you guilty of.”

“But, young master!—” Sebek started to argue. “The impropriety of—” he spluttered. “To even think thatyou could be addressed as—as that is—"

“No,” Malleus repeated, nearly a growl, and another bolt of bright static lit the window. The electricity seemed to linger in the air long after the flash had faded, like a little, rippling, current running the edge of its teeth along your skin. “And this will be the last it is discussed.”

The terrible, quiet, tension that followed was broken by a snuffling snore as Silver shifted, his head flopping from where it’d been pressed against the wooden paneling to instead land with a heavy thwump against Lilia’s shoulder.

“How… How did he sleep through all that?” you asked in awe.

Lilia sighed, affectionate, and reached out to ruffle a clawed hand through Silver’s hair. “He’s so special~”

You knew that Malleus was royalty and blablabla, but you hadn’t really anticipated all the things that came with that. The castle? Yes. Totally made sense. The entire entourage of servants that appeared to whisk away your bags? Also rational. Sorta cool, and definitely made you feel a bit too much like a celebrity, even if you understood the need for such protocol.

Malleus also immediately being whisked away?

Now that… That you hadn’t really considered.

“I’ll meet back with you as soon as I can,” he promised. Lilia and Silver had already vanished down a separate winding hallway, and the prospect of being left all alone in this gargantuan foyer was just short of terrifying. “There are some final preparations for the Festival that I am required to oversee personally.” And then there was another moment where Malleus resolutely refused to meet your gaze, and if you didn’t know any better you’d say it was almost like he was being coy. But it passed quickly enough and instead he cast a pointed glare towards his subordinate. “Sebek can show you around in the meantime. He’s a more than capable guard.”

You looked at Sebek and Sebek looked at you.

Uh-oh.

“How long will that take?” you asked, hoping it didn’t sound as whiny as it felt. But, like, come on. This was basically the human equivalent of your friend inviting you to come visit for the holidays and then immediately dumping you with their weird aunt and the dog that never really learned not to pee on the carpet.

“Only until the evening,” he assured, like it wasn’t just barely past ten in the morning—like eight-plus whole ass hours was really no time at all. And to be fair, for him it probably really wasn’t. But for you and your very mortal panic, it immediately felt like you were facing down eternity. You didn’t know what your face was doing, but whatever it was, it made Malleus’s brow scrunch up in concern. “Will that be alright?”

“Of course,” you lied, like a good guest. “You’ve gotta do what you’ve gotta do.”

He smiled that small, slanted, smile of his that always looked just a touch too sharp at the corners. And then he was gone, and it was just you and Sebek.

“So,” you tried. “Do you know what any of that was about?”

“LORD MALLEUS’S PRINCELY RESPONSIBILITIES ARE NONE OF YOUR CONCERN, HUMAN!” Sebek barked, crossing his arms sternly across his chest. “IF THE YOUNG MASTER DID NOT SEE FIT TO INFORM YOU, THEN I SEE NO REASON WHY I SHOULD EITHER!”

You groaned and valiantly fought the urge to drop your head into your hands.

“Don’t touch that, human!”

“How dare you—you’re going to embarrass the young master!”

“Human! Don’t you dare!”

“Human!”

“HUMAN!”

You were going insane. You couldn’t blink without Sebek snarling at you about impropriety, and the fact that your very presence in this castle was a failing of tradition itself. You tried to ask about the Festival and were immediately shut down. You inquired politely if there was anything you could do to help, only to be told firmly that silly little humans weren’t good for anything and to keep your nose out of it. You asked to use the bathroom and your stupid, mortal, bladder was cursed within an inch of its life.

“It would have been easier not to bring you at all,” Sebek grumbled for the thousandth time as he grouchily led you through rows of decorative stalls.

“I am aware,” you grit out, grinding your molars.

“I still can’t understand it,” he rambled. “No matter how many times Master Lilia explains it to me, you—this—it defies all logic!”

“Friendship isn’t always logical,” you bit back, firm. Because that is what you were, right? Friends? And then, because you were angry and wanted to hit him where it hurt— “You know, if Malleus is so willing to sully himself by keeping someone as lowly and stupid as me as his friend, maybe that’s a sign that the other company he’s forced to keep is less than ideal.”

Sebek puffed up like a rooster in a cock fight and turned on you with a snarl.

“How dare you presume to call yourself the Young Master’s friend!” The corners of his lips curled down over jagged canines. “At best you’re a pet—something that’ll long outlast its welcome before you eventually wither away and die.”

Annnnd you had officially reached your allocated tolerance of Anti-Human-Bullshit for the day.

So when Sebek was caught up in another one of his longwinded tirades, you slipped into the gap between two of the Festival stalls and out the other side. The silence was immediate and like a balm against your sore hide.

There was something about Sebek that made you think he didn’t really mean all those things he spouted. Occasionally there was a kind of disquiet in his yellow gaze, especially when he ranted angrily about the shortcomings of his very human father. The green-haired fae was far from subtle, and you had a feeling that all his huffing and puffing was probably to hide something… else. Something more uncertain and small that he downright refused to address. Because humans were weak, and short-lived, and chaotic. And he would have to face that sooner or later. With Silver. With his own parent. And hating that humanity was no doubt easier than loving and losing it.

That being said, his prickly behavior still made you want to punt his head like a spiky, green, football. So.

You wandered around aimlessly through the intricate maze of market stalls and booths. Despite the perpetually grey cloud cover, everyone here was so cheerful. And Lilia was right—no one seemed to give two shits about your very human eyes, and face, and stature. It was really nice. You spent so long strolling through the rows that you barely even noticed when the sky began to darken and the crowds thinned as you approached the outskirts. There was an ominous roll of thunder in the distance, but you didn’t think too much of it. The clouds looked ready to open up any second. It was probably just a bit of rain.

There was a little, makeshift, dirt pit at the edge of the stalls, and you observed it curiously. It was ringed with colorful, triangular, flags, and the inner crater was lined with archery targets and wooden sparring dummies. It reminded you a bit of those competition fields in Renaissance Fairs.

However, so enraptured by these painted planks were you that you wound up crashing headfirst into a wall of crimson, and immediately plummeted towards the ground. But then a strong arm was around your waist, twirling you back to your feet. And boy was it a twirl—like you were being swung around into an entire waltz. It left your head spinning worse than if whoever-it-was had just let you faceplant into the dirt.

“Wow, ow. Your head is way harder than it looks. Ouch. My poor ribs.”

You immediately moved to apologize, but were caught off guard by a pair of softly rounded ears peeking out from beneath mused, brown, hair. Another human. Like you. You blinked a few times, not entirely sure why the idea of another mortal gallivanting around the Festival was so surprising. You fought what would no doubt look like an insanely creepy urge to lean closer and get a better look at his face, just to make sure—to check if his canines were blunted, if his pupils were round and soft rather than narrow slashes of black. There was another low rumbling of thunder, closer this time. It was followed by a sharp crack of lightning that set the hairs on the back of your neck on end.

“Sorry about that,” you finally managed to eke out, vision still a bit swirly.

“It’s alright. It didn’t actually hurt that badly,” your victim chuckled, cordial, and set you back on your feet. It was a very lovely chuckle—deep and warm, like melting, dark, chocolate. “Are you alright? You look a little dazed.”

“I think so—” you began, before accidentally putting a bit too much weight onto your left ankle. It twinged painfully and you winced. Immediately that hand was back at your shoulder, keeping you balanced. “Or maybe not.”

“I guess my head is still harder than yours after all,” Mister Brunette mused to himself.

“I don’t think your head twisted my ankle,” you mumbled, confused.

He tossed his head back with a laugh, and you couldn’t help but notice that he had very lovely cheekbones. Not as sharp as Malleus’s maybe, but still perfectly proportioned to the rest of his very well-cut face.

“What are you doing all the way out here? Are you lost too?” he asked.

“Maybe,” you hummed, glancing around at the semi-familiar layout. You couldn’t really tell if you recognized the little stalls because you’d seen them before, or if it was just because they were standard make and all looked more or less the same. “…Probably.”

“We can be allies in idiocy then,” he snorted pleasantly, and reached out with his other hand to double up on helping you better maintain the balance that you so clearly did not possess.

“Does this new ally have a name?” you asked, still a bit dizzy.

“Stefan,” he grinned—all white teeth and charisma. “After my great-great-great—” He paused for a moment, as if considering, “great-great-grandfather.”

He laughed merrily at whatever disgruntled face you were pulling.

“Yeah. I guess it is all a bit pretentious,” he sighed, rubbing at the back of his neck. “But that’s just the way it is back home—for my family, at the very least. Lots of tradition this, and lineage that.”

“Oh?” you hummed. “Sounds stifling.”

“It is! I mean, it’s practically the 14th century now,” he laughed, and you genuinely could not tell if he was being serious. “I’m always telling my father it’s time to get with the times, you know?”

For a moment, you were reminded so strongly of Malleus and his general dissociation with the modern world that it was almost startling.

“And you?”

“Me?” you blinked.

He laughed. “Your name? If you don’t mind me inquiring, of course.”

You gave it freely. Lilia had cautioned you once upon a time about something-something-power-in-a-name, but Lilia wasn’t here right now. And it’s not like you were anyone special enough that your name could mean much of anything to begin with. Maybe, if they were lucky enough, someone could use it as an incantation to summon a hungry racoon from the sewers.

Stefan repeated it merrily, with the same inflection one may use when telling a fantastical tale to friends in a tavern. No ravenous racoons spawned from the trees when he said it, so you assumed the whole ‘power’ thing was probably safe.

Another flash of emerald lit the sky—this strike was larger, louder. Like dozens of branches unfurling from a rotting tree, or clawed fingers digging their way through the clouds. The roar of thunder that followed almost seemed to shake the ground. Stefan frowned up at the black clouds.

“It was already starting to get late anyways, but the weather is really starting to turn, huh?” he hummed and tapped at his chin, pensive. “And I can’t just leave you all the way out here—especially knowing that you’ve got a bum ankle. Hmm…” More tapping. And then his hazel eyes lit up like firebugs. “Have you ever ridden a horse before?”

“A horse?” you repeated, confused.

“Helios,” he smiled, bright as the sun. “He’s my best friend. And, well, also my trusty steed. He’s just over in the contestant’s stables. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind giving you a lift.”

Riding back into the heart of the Festival on horseback sounded like something that would absolutely give Sebek at least two separate heart attacks. But before you could voice your skepticism, Stefan was rushing off—his crimson cape swirling behind him in the wind.

“I’ll be right back!”

You slouched against a pillar with a sigh, shifting as much of your weight off your ankle as you could manage. You wondered if Malleus had finished his Pre-Festival duties. You wondered if Sebek had realized you’d disappeared yet. Surely even he wasn’t that oblivious. You wondered if he was panicked at all—if not for you, then for his Lord’s inevitable wrath at the misplacement of a favored ‘pet.’

“Well, well. There you are, little one.”

You jolted in surprise and immediately curled back into yourself with a pained hiss. Goddamned ankle—

“Lilia,” you gaped. “Jesus fucking—don’t dothat.”

The Fae shot you a wicked grin from his place floating overhead, angled just-so so that it looked like he was dangling upside-down from the wooden signage across the top of an empty stall. But you knew better. He was bouncing around on his magic and his magic alone.

“How did you end up all the way out here?” Lilia hummed, slipping from his ‘perch’ to land gracefully at your side. His wine-red eyes roved over you from head to toe. It felt like you were being filleted. “And you’ve gone and hurt yourself on top of everything. Goodness,” he sighed, bone-deep and weary. “I was hoping I wasn’t going to have to deal with another one of Malleus’s tantrums this evening. And yet, here you are. Being so careless.” Another sigh, nearly a groan. “What am I going to do with you, hmm?”

“It’s not like it was my fault!” you spluttered, even though it had definitely been your fault.

Lilia gave you a look.

“Either way,” he continued, voice lilted in that indulgent way that reminded you far too much of a parent trying and failing to discipline a wayward child, “let’s get you back before he blows the entire market away.”

Then, Stefan called your name and the fond expression on Lilia’s face immediately flattened into something so pointedly blank it was almost unsettling. Your new friend came trotting forward, a lovely and large silver dun horse at his side. Helios, you assumed. The gigantic beast caught sight of Lilia and slid to a standstill, rearing up with a panicked whinny as he backpedaled. Stefan twisted his hands into the reins and ran a hand along the horse’s neck—shushing and placating the startled animal. After a moment, Stefan managed to calm Helios enough to keep him from bolting, and he turned on Lilia with wide eyes.

“Lord Vanrouge,” Stefan said, angling his head in what you assumed was deference. “I wasn’t expecting to see you this evening.”

“Nor I you,” Lilia hummed, that impassive expression remaining firmly in place. “To what do we owe the pleasure, Prince Stefan? We were informed that you and your family wouldn’t be arriving until the day after next.” A pause. The silence felt louder than anything Lilia had said up to that point. “If at all.”

“Prince?” you choked, turning on the brunette with eyes as wide as dinner plates.

“Whoops?” Stefan shrugged, looking sheepish. “And I—well… I just wanted to get a look at everything. Beforehand.”

“Of course,” Lilia droned. “Either way. You’ll have to excuse us.” The Fae slide one hand beneath your knees and the other around the small of your back, and hauled you into his arms as if you weighed nothing at all. “We have a pressing appointment to keep.”

With that, the world seemed to tilt on its axis as the environment melted together like splotches of watercolor paint all running together at the bottom of a page. You’d never been teleported before. You’d seen Malleus and Lilia pop in and out of existence plenty of times, but being dragged through the fabric of time and space alongside him was jarring, and the journey left you feeling nauseous and loopy all over again.

It took you a moment to realize that the universe had stopped spinning, and that the plush material beneath your palms felt an awful lot like the duvet on the bed in your guestroom. You opened your eyes slowly, cautiously, to see Lilia had placed you neatly by your pillows and had already moved away to start fretting over your swollen ankle instead.

“I never thought I would have to lecture you on the dangers of talking to strangers,” he tutted, though it wasn’t entirely playful.

“I didn’t know he was a Prince,” you complained, wincing when he prodded clinically at your stinging flesh. “I just thought he was, I don’t know, some guy.” You fought and failed the urge to fidget—fingers nervously meshing together in your lap. “…I didn’t cause an international incident or anything, did I…?” You had no idea how any of this royalty stuff worked. But you could put two-and-two together well enough to understand that the personal guest of one crowned prince mowing down a different prince was probably not looked upon very highly.

Lilia leaned forward to pat your head, some of his usual mischief working its way back into his expression.

“Not to worry, Prefect,” he smiled. “I doubt any wars have been declared over your transgressions.”

There was another roar of thunder and the castle itself seemed to tremble. The bay windows lining the wall opposite you were lit entirely in a sharp flash of lime green. Once the wicked brightness of the lightning had faded into something less blinding, you could make out dozens of hairline cracks racing up the glass panes.

Lilia sighed, looking for the first time like someone who was very acutely feeling the weariness of his hundreds upon hundreds of lifespans. “Well, not yet, at least.”

TAG LIST [CLOSED]

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@nexxy-is-lonely, @akuri-shinsou, @nebulabunni3, @hermiona18, @alextheknight707, @crockercorpbakers, @sillyhummingbird, @loxi546-blog, @blackrose8425, @paranoiac-666, @alexpeaches, @cinnamontimecrunch, @cupid3m, @iamnotwiddle, @coloursplash666, @smokebell, @dreamingjirachi, @existingcurrently, @littlemusicfox25, @spaceyrunes, @un-petit-peu-confused, @medleycharm, @chocolateduckdinosaur, @barryatsumu, @ttwinrytwo, @imaginedfantasies, @cleos-stuff, @whathappenedtobees, @5sos-wdw, @trixeraptops, @obaniori, @thededly2, @kttyfngs, @reconcy, @patimiet, @itsmarlsworld, @fae06, @nowwhat-runlikehell, @kinglion03u, @catgirler, @anonymouscandy, @hatsunemiku2025, @clappincobracheeks, @horcrux-alchemist, @crypticbibliophile, @nyotnyota, @ally-glow, @yourimaginaryfriiendd, @hamdehlesmis, @scarapeep, @https-casanova, @niki-chan15, @insomnia-space, @rabioa, @ailynyan, @posionapplecider @pen-observing @afternoon-read, @marvelous-maxi, @inkeddreamz, @ai-dev, @anasianplate

#twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #My Writing #Heroes vs. Villains #twisted wonderland OCs #twst ocs #Malleus Draconia x Reader #Malleus x Reader #Malleus Draconia #Silver twst #Sebek Zigvolt #Lilia Vanrouge #Diasomnia x Reader #Malleus x Yuu #Heroes vs Villains Diasomnia Part 1

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writeyouin · 1 year ago

Note

Mtmte starscream headcanons on pampering his s/o? Post war?

MTMTE Starscream X Reader - Pampering

A/N -

Warnings -

Rating -

Usually, everything is about Starscream, especially now that he is the official ruler of Cybertron.

Any time he snaps his digits, there's a servant there to fulfil his every whim.

Yet, Starscream wouldn't be where he is today, were it not for you and he knows it.

The two of you had been together since he invaded your measly planet. Starscream didn't care for Earth, but it was your home and you had left it, for him.

He knew all you had sacrificed, and he wanted to repay that.

Besides, there had been so many nights when he was in a dark depression, all thanks to the abuse of his fellow Decepticons and Megatron.

On those nights, you had been there for him, talking him down from the edge. Nobody else would have been able to do so, but you always knew when to speak, and when to be silent, offering him your company and a shoulder to... Well, he didn't often cry, it left him far too vulnerable, but you were there to listen when he needed you.

Your love language was physical touch, and he adored you for that; you were his anchor to reality.

Then, when Starscream was tense, you had been there to work out the kinks under his plating. Granted, you were too small to give him a real massage, but you could reach where no other bot could, and it had felt oh, so good.

There had been times when you used a ladder and a jet wash to scrub at him, treating him like a king even before he was one.

Now, Starscream was determined to return the favour.

He had access to everything he needed, and he knew enough about humans to give you a spa day.

First, he had all the best items imported from Earth, for facials, a back rub, a foot massage and that other thing, a pedi-mani? Mani-pedi? Whatever it was that you were supposed to do with a human's servos and pedes.

He wasn't going to hire anyone for this either. No, for you he would create a holo-form. There would be nobody else touching your body but him... Not that any other Cybertronian would know what to do anyway. Admittedly, Starscream was a touch possessive of you, and he was somewhat insecure about other bots getting too friendly with you.

You were his S/O, not somebody else's.

Anyway, once you were nice and relaxed, he was going to run you a hot bath with all those infernal bubbles that he hated so much. The wash pool was built for a Cybertronian, and though you had quite a lavish one in your quarters, he would rather spend time with you as himself so once the massage was over, he would shed his holoform.

He would get in the wash pool with you. He'd done that before. He liked to cup you in his servos and watch the water drain from them. He also adored it when you sat in his lap, and he had to lift his knees so you weren't in too deep. It was after all supposed to be a relaxing session, not an exercising swim.

Then, once you were all warm and dry in your plush dressing gown, he would lay with you by the fire and feed you chocolate-covered strawberries, or whatever else your heart desired.

And after all that... Well, there was one more human custom. A ring in a box, and the promise of forever.

#transformers #fanfiction #fanfic #reader insert #reader #maccadam #idw transformers #more than meets the eye #mtmte #ll #the lost light #lost light #starscream #starscream x reader #transformers starscream #idw starscream #pampering

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maitanii · 1 year ago

Text

ABOUT YOU | INUI SEISHU

an: i don’t know how to write fanfics of x reader, it’s not really my thing. but i had fun writing this. so enjoy <3 i listened a lot to the 1975 while i was writing this and i didn’t know what to put as a title. this is just me loving inui seishu.

cw: bonten timeline (this takes place in 2013) | Implicit sexual content | toxic relationship (not the main one) | alcohol consumption (both reader and Inui drink a beer)

wc: 6k

THURSDAY. SEPTEMBER 5TH. 2013.

"I'm looking for a job."

"Thanks, but no."

"I’ve seen the sign you have at the entrance and the job offer on LinkedIn."

"No."

The young man's eyes never leave the car magazine he's leafing through disinterestedly throughout the entire conversation. A pen is gracefully held behind his ear, and a grease stain adorns his pale cheek.

"Can I at least talk to your boss?" You put your hands on your hips. The man lets out a deep sigh before forcefully closing the magazine's pages. He raises his gaze to meet your eyes and forces the most insincere smile he can muster. In his green pupils, there's nothing but annoyance.

"Of course."

With heavy movements, he takes two steps with his long legs and elegantly opens the flip phone on the counter. After a few moments of awkward silence, another phone rings in the room. You search for the object producing the sound. When the phone's beep stops, a toilet flushes. The small wooden door behind the counter swings wide open, revealing a massive figure zipping up his pants.

"Seishu, damn it, you don't even let me go to the bathroom," The blonde man laughs, sarcastic, before returning to his serious expression. "Sorry, boss." He shrugs, raising his thumb and pointing at your figure, standing in front of him. "This girl here says she's looking for a job."

You look the sturdy man up and down who stands before you. You swallow hard as you examine the tattoos that decorate the side of his head.

Draken raises an eyebrow, looking at Inui, who leans on his arms at the counter, amusedly watching the scene. The tall young man with the tattooed skull returns the girl's gaze before extending his hand.

"I'm Ryuguji Ken," shaking his hand back, you pronounce your own name. "So you're here for the job offer... Do you know anything about motorcycles?"

"Not exactly. My father was a big enthusiast. But I learn quickly and make good coffee."

Inui continues to look at you with a poker face. Did you really come to apply for a job at a motorcycle shop without knowing anything about the subject? What's next, studying international relations and trying to build a bridge?

"Oh, I see," Draken says, touching his chin with two fingers, looking thoughtfully at the ceiling. "You're young, pretty, and you seem nice. You might attract some customers and be of help to us. You're hired. You start tomorrow."

"What?"

"Yes!" Your exclamation only emphasizes the vein that protrudes on the blonde man's pale forehead.

Inui looks at Draken in disbelief.

"How is she supposed to help in the workshop if she knows nothing about motorcycles, Draken?"

"I put up the sign at the entrance because I needed someone at the counter, not to have another mechanic," Seishu tightens his lips and closes his eyelids. "Besides, if she needs help, you're always here in case something comes up, Inupi. It'll do you good to have some company to improve your social skills."

The tension in the room thickens as Inui grudgingly accepts Draken's decision, though he remains skeptical about the new addition to their team. With a deep sigh, he shifts his attention back to the tools in his toolbox, muttering something under his breath.

On the other hand, you do your best to conceal your excitement and nerves. You are determined to prove your worth, despite your limited knowledge of motorcycles. In truth, you don't care much about the specifics of the job; it's all about paying the bills for your apartment. Even though your mom insists on helping, it's too much for her. Several cafes rejected your job applications due to your refusal to accept exploitation or wear specific uniforms. That's why having a job just 20 minutes away from your house, with a consistent schedule and no split work shifts, feels like a great opportunity.

You are more than ready to embrace this new chapter in your life at D&D MOTORS, at least for the next few months until you earn your degree and sort out some other aspects of your life.

The one who isn't willing to embrace the concept of working with someone else is Inui Seishu. As you stand there, happily texting your mom about the new job, you can't shake the feeling that there's more to him than meets the eye.

THURSDAY. SEPTEMBER 23TH. 2013.

Inui Seishu is the typical man who hates Twilight. You haven't asked him, but you know it. It's not like you have the opportunity to exchange more than two words with him. Every time you try to ask him something, you get a 'uh-huh' or a 'look it up on the computer' as a response. The only moments when you have more chances to talk to him are when you make a mistake in naming a part of the order or point something out. Then, Inui's sermons, as cold and abrupt as he is, echo off the walls of the shop. Later, Draken arrives to tell you it's not a big deal and gives you a pat on the back.

Even though you have only been here for two weeks, you have already gotten used to the penetrating smell of burnt oil and gasoline at D&D MOTORS. Your mother isn't exactly thrilled about you working in such an environment, especially with the rise of gangs in Tokyo, but she can't complain much if that job helps you pay the rent. Every day you look at the calendar, hoping to get to the final exams of your degree and say goodbye to Tokyo to return to your hometown.

“My co-workers are not dangerous, Mom, I promise. I have to go in. Love you,” you close your phone and open the heavy glass doors of the shop.

Draken is looking at the day's schedule, and Inui is starting to set up his toolbox next to the radio he uses to play some music during work time. The doorbell rings when you enter, catching Draken's and Inui's attention.

“Good morning. You are a bit late today. Everything okay on the way here?” Draken comments as he continues to write things in the notebook. A few days ago, you mentioned that you don't live in a good area of the city, but it's what you can afford. Inui, at his boss's words, lifts his gaze and finally greets you with a nod. His expression remains as serious as ever.

“Hello,” you reply with a smile, trying to appear as relaxed as possible. “Yes, my mother called, and I couldn’t hang up sooner. Sorry,” you make a slight bow. Draken laughs lightly.

“No worries, woman. I arrived a couple of minutes ago. Inui is always the first to arrive.”

“I just like to get up early,” the blonde says without much emotion.

Draken approaches you, leaving the counter.

“Today, we have a couple of customers waiting for us to take a look at their bikes. You know how it works. Inui inspects, and you write down what he tells you, understood? I have to handle several orders, so I'll be at the counter for today.”

“Understood,” you nod as you hang your coat on the rack. You are determined to show that you can be a valuable worker. Draken pats your shoulder before turning to Inui.

“Inui, you know the drill. Today, you're in charge of the initial inspection. I trust you'll do a good job with Eiichiro. He really likes your way of working.'” Inui nods without saying a word.

Both of them go to their respective tasks, and you prepare to assist your colleague in the inspection.

The discomfort in the air is palpable. You can't quite understand what part of your personality Inui finds displeasing. But you are at work to work, not to make friends, so you have to swallow your colleague's attitude without complaint. After all, the pay is generous, you don't have split shifts, and Ryuguji (or Draken, as he has asked you to call him on the third day) is a great guy.

When the first customer arrives, you watch carefully the meticulousness and attention to detail with which Inui works. It's evident that he has outstanding technical skills. You begin to take notes of his observations, trying to learn as much as possible.

You can't help but be acutely aware of the silence that envelops the workshop. The client goes away to run some errands while the revision is being done, and Draken is nowhere to be seen. Inui's work seems almost unnaturally quiet except for the occasional sound of 'hum' or 'pass me the screwdriver,' amplifying the awkwardness of the situation." . Every move appears as if it's part of a silent ballet. He almost looks bored, if it weren't for the light reflecting in his eyes. Eyes that look at you from time to time discreetly, as if waiting for you to make a mistake. You almost feel like a child waiting to be grounded. The absence of chatter or the usual workshop sounds adds to the discomfort, making you feel like an intruder in this world of expertise.

With a notepad in hand, you begin to take notes of your observations, the sound of the pen scratching against the paper echoing in the quiet space. You have already familiarized yourself with the brake locations and even sketched a few diagrams detailing the engine parts. But in the hushed environment, you can't shake the feeling of unease, like an outsider trying to blend into a world where silence reigns, and every movement holds a weighty significance.

Whenever you think you have identified a possible issue, your eyes meet Inui's unwavering gaze. Although he doesn't speak a word, his discreet look seems to silently pass judgment on you. After a few minutes of inspection, you cautiously venture to ask a question. "Could it be an issue with the engine's synchronization?" you ask. Inui nods slightly, but his expression remains unflinching. Soon, he redirects his attention back to the motorcycle.

You decide to delve deeper into your theory. "Perhaps it’s a blocked exhaust valve," you mention, tilting your head, hoping for a response or a sign of confirmation. Once again, Inui nods with a minimal gesture, without saying a word. He stands up while removing his gloves and shakes them against his pants. You close your eyes as you watch him smear grease on the fabric. That stain won't come off easily, not even completely.

As if he was a mind reader, Inui speaks for the first time in ten minutes. "I don't come to the workshop to stay clean. The dirtier my uniform is, the harder I've worked in a day," he says. You nod at his words, although you don't entirely agree with his statement.

"Oh, of course, it makes sense,". It doesn't make much sense, but who are you to contradict someone who seems to have no thoughts behind their gaze?

Back when you still lived with your mother and came home after a night out, you tried to make as little noise as possible to avoid disturbing her. In those moments, you felt the same way, measuring your words and avoiding causing any disruption. The lack of conversation and the absence of the usual workshop sounds only make the situation more uncomfortable.

Tearing the page where you’ve been taking notes from the notebook, you leave it on the seat of the inspected motorcycle, and then follow Inui through the workshop. Appearing submissive is something you hate; but working with someone who makes you feel like a burden with every step is even worse.

“Hey, Inui”

“Uh-uhm.”

“Am I bothering you?”

“Right now? Not much.” Inui grabs a denim jacket from the rack and drapes it over his shoulders. Draken looks at him from the counter, raising an eyebrow. ” I need to step out for a moment.” You watch how he touches the pocket of his jacket, probably making sure he has the pack of cigarettes he always carries around “I won't be out long. If Eiichiro comes back, you take care of it.” Nodding towards you, Inui proceeds to leave the premises. It has started drizzling not long ago.

You follow his figure with your gaze, observing how his hair sways gracefully with each step his military boots take.

“This guy... “ Draken's voice breaks the silence with a comment that is more for himself than for you.

“He's peculiar. “ you add.

“He's really damn weird.” Both of you laugh at his comment “But he's a very good person and a great friend. He didn't have an easy adolescence when it comes to making friends.” As he pronounces the last word, he gestures with his hands as if making quotation marks. “Give him time, you'll get along well.”

The conversation with Draken continued for a few more minutes. The rain began to intensify. Eiichiro should have arrived a while ago, and Inui hadn't arrived either.

"Inupi didn't have an umbrella, did he?" Draken asks. You shake your head. "Here, take one for him. He's probably in the alley on the other street, having a smoke, and he can't come out in this downpour. I'd go, but I'm waiting for a call. If Eiichiro comes, I'll let him know to wait for a moment."

Taking the umbrella that Draken hands you and another for yourself from the umbrella stand, you nod and start walking to the location. It must be a frequent spot for him to know where he is with such assurance.

As you approach the alley, you hear hushed whispers beneath the sound of falling raindrops. Suddenly, laughter fills the air. You clutch the umbrella you're holding tightly and press the other one close to your chest.

"Inui, I brought you an—"

The words you were about to speak are left unspoken. The scene unfolding before your eyes is hard to comprehend. Seishu's back is visible in the darkness of the alley, but the hands gripping his scalp and exploring his back under his jacket are unmistakable.

When you were taking a step back to return the way you came, both figures become aware of the sound and turn around. Seishu raises his eyebrows, and your gaze instinctively goes to his swollen lips. In an instant, you cast a glance at his companion. You couldn't see his features clearly, but slanted eyes and white hair greet you in the darkness.

"...umbrella. Return carefully."

Dropping the umbrella to the ground, you run back to the workshop. Embarrassment starts to course through your body, and your cheeks begin to burn. Suddenly, laughter begins to bubble up, and when you arrive at the workshop, you close the door and bend over your stomach, laughing.

Draken is just finishing his call when he sees you walk in the door. Hearing your laughter, a smile spreads across his face. The redness doesn't leave your cheeks, just like the feeling of embarrassment that penetrates your mind.

"He..." You still haven't caught your breath enough to articulate a word properly. "He was..." Opening your mouth to laugh again, you raise your hands to start clapping your fingers together, mimicking two people kissing.

Your boss laughs again.

"Oh, so you've met Kokonoi."

Approaching the counter to pick up your water bottle and take a sip, you heard the door beginning to open.

"Now," your coworker's voice made you jump, "now you're really bothering me."

WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 9TH. 2013.

Inui Seishu's lip balm has the scent of vanilla although his mouth carries the taste of tobacco. Kokonoi loves the former, but he detests the latter. However, whenever he sees Seishu, he doesn't waste much time before capturing his lips, entwining his fingers in his long blonde hair. He is the one who gives him that lip balm; the same one that Akane carries in her school case whenever they go to the library. This brings him closer to understanding what it would be like to kiss her.

But he's sure that Inui Akane wouldn’t have hands as big and calloused. Nor such a broad back. Nor the prominent Adam's apple in his throat. That's why closing his eyes and kissing Seishu is the simplest way to live out his fantasies

"I have a business trip tomorrow. I'm going to Hong Kong for a couple of weeks."

Oh, that's great," Inui replies, his attention still on his phone. The screen congratulates him for completing another Candy Crush level when he presses the lock button. "Are you going with the Haitani brothers?"

"No." Kokonoi's coat costs more than the entire D&D MOTORS shop and the rent of all the buildings in his neighborhood. Seishu watches closely as Hajime adjusts the collar of his shirt, covering any possible marks decorating the smooth skin of his neck. Any mark that brings him thoughts of Seishu; any mark that reminds him that it doesn't belong to Akane." "I'm going alone. I'll leave you money for the taxi and for another shampoo."

"Shampoo?"

"Yes." Turning towards him, Kokonoi approaches his body lying on the bed and grabs a strand of hair.

"I don't like the scent of the one you use. It's too strong."

"Ah." Seishu moves his hand aside to sit up on the bed. He takes his white T-shirt from the end of the bed and starts to get dressed. "Lately, my hair has been falling out quite a bit. Draken told me this one would help, but it's true the scent doesn't suit me much."

"Certainly not." Checking the time once again, Hajime gives a final look to the hotel room before approaching the door. "Goodbye Inupi, take care."

The sound of the closing door echoes within the four walls. A sigh escapes Seishu's lips. The king-size bed, covered with high-quality Egyptian cotton sheets, is too big for one person. Surrounded by fluffy pillows, he sat on the mattress and watched the flat-screen TV mounted on the wall. He could take the opportunity to watch "House of Cars" and entertain himself. He had asked for the day off from Draken, so he wasn't in a hurry to go back anywhere. Although, in his day-to-day life, he never really rushed for anything. He didn't even have to go back anywhere.

He decided to lie back down and rested his forearm against his forehead. The distant sounds of the city served as a lullaby; Koko always chose hotels away from the crowd. He had time to stay in the room until six, and it was only four. He considered taking a nap but opted to check his mobile phone again. He had an unread message from Draken.

"Look at what you're missing out on," he smiled upon seeing the photo that accompanied the text. It's a blurry picture of a plate of Takoyaki and some fingers with silver rings peering in the lower corner of the photograph. You don't need to be Sherlock Holmes to know that the low-quality jewelry belonged to you. Tomorrow you would come complaining that your fingers were turning green. He would take the opportunity to call you Hulk, and you would get angry and say, "are you implying that I'm a monster?"

Seishu laughs before locking his phone and closing his eyes, sinking deeper into the tranquil cocoon of the luxurious hotel room. Outside, the city's lights began to twinkle as evening settled in.

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 4 TH, 2013.

There are good days and bad days. Today was one of the latter kind.

The guy you had been seeing had been leaving your messages on read for three days. It's not like you had grown too attached, but he provided some company outside of friendship. On the other hand, you had continuous arguments with his family for the most absurd reasons. Your roommate thought it was a good idea to finish your cereal box without asking and to constantly bring her boyfriend into the common areas of the house. To top it off, you got your period before leaving home. You felt like a matchstick being dragged across the box, destined to turn into white phosphorus at some point.

When your umbrella wouldn't close at the entrance of D & D MOTORS, and you arrived fifteen minutes late (with wet hair and socks) for your shift, the last thing you wanted to deal with was your coworker's comments.

Draken had to go on a business trip to pick up some parts in Osaka and was going to take the opportunity to see some old friends. Considering the time he spent at work, you were sure he could use some time away. However, this also meant more time with Seishu. And that didn't excite you much. He had been quite irritating lately. You had heard Draken talking about a fight with his boyfriend (or whatever their relationship was). You didn't care much about people's sex lives, except when it directly affected you. Whatever was going on with Inui, he was taking it out on you at work. So the best thing that could happen to him today was to keep quiet until the clock struck six, without sermons, sharp comments, or unnecessary sarcasm.

“Christmas is approaching, have you thought about asking Santa for a watch?”

“What?” The vein on your forehead starts to throb.

“I’m asking you if you've thought about being on time for once. Draken should start deducting hours from your contract.”

When his words meet silence, Inui places the wrench he was holding on the floor. He turns his body to face yours. His green eyes inspect you from head to toe with an indifferent look. Instinctively, you cover your stomach with your hands. Has he noticed that you look more bloated today? Without saying a word, he turns his head and goes back to his business.

“Are you going to start working now?” he asks.

You don't know if it's the stress, the piercing pain in your lower back, or the bad weather. But the tears in your eyes start to burn more and more.

“What have I done to make you treat me like crap?” The words flow from your throat before your brain can process them.”If you want, I can talk to Draken and ask him to switch my shift. But I don't deserve to be treated like this.”

“Like what? Look, I don't understand what's wrong with you today.”

“It's not today, Inui, it's every day” Tears began to roll down your cheeks. Damn it, you didn't want to cry today. At least not in front of anyone. “I don't expect us to be friends, but lately, it seems like you hate me, and I don't want that either.”

Seishu looks puzzled as you bring your hands to your eyes and try to wipe away the tears before they fall from your cheeks. How badly had he behaved? He wasn't the most careful person when speaking; his parents always nudged him when he was opening Christmas presents to make him put on a better face. Words kept coming out of your mouth, but Inui had stopped listening to you a few minutes ago, thinking about the interactions of the past week and measuring the words of what he was going to say next.

“I don't hate you. Not at all. I had a fight with someone important to me, and it affected my behavior. I'm sorry.” Bowing slightly, Inui prays that this will be enough to stop your tears.

“...and you're always so obsessed with me being a few minutes late; are you that obsessed with the time?” Your eyes remain hidden behind your hands, which continue to wipe away the salty drops endlessly pouring from your eyes.

He clicks his tongue and straightens up at the same time. With all the gentleness that his calloused hands allow, he delicately grabs your forearms to separate them from your body.

“Hey, did you hear me?” Moving away abruptly, you bring your arms to your chest protectively ”I don't hate you, okay?” He continues speaking. “To be honest, I'm just like that. I thought you knew” You raise an eyebrow at his words, sniffing the mucus generated by your tears with your nose.

“Did you think I found you that unpleasant?”

“No, I didn't mean that” He laughs lightly, putting a hand in one of his pants pockets, and handing you a tissue. His laughter is a very pleasant sound. “I'm not the most expressive person, I guess. I don't know, I'm a bit reserved. I don't usually express things the way I should. But I don't hate you, not at all. I haven't stopped to think about how I made you feel with my words, to be honest.”

Your reddened eyes meet his. For the first time, you notice that there is no boredom in his gaze. Just genuine concern. Despite your anger and frustration, something in the way he looks at you makes you lower your guard a bit.

“Well, that's a start, I guess” You murmur, feeling the tension slowly subside and bringing the tissue you had taken from Inupi to your nose. Inui nods as if he agrees with you. He seems uncomfortable, but he's willing to try to resolve the situation.

“I'll pay more attention to how I act, I promise.” You smile at his words.

“I've never heard you laugh” The poker face disappears from his face. The slightest blush decorates his cheeks. “I like your laugh, Inui.”

“Of course you like my laugh, you sound like a newborn piglet when you’re laughing” A mischievous smile appears on his face.

“Take that back!” Grabbing a cloth from the seat of a motorcycle, you start whipping his shoulder. Laughter begins to resonate in the shop as his Adams apple moves with every sound. “Good thing you have a boyfriend, because you're terrible with women.”

Taking the piece of fabric from your hands, Inui Seishu stands in front of you with an eyebrow raised. For the first time, you are aware of how tall he is. Despite his soft features, he has a very masculine jaw. Your eyes instantly shift to your hands, where you hold the other end of the cloth tightly.

“I don't think I'm bad with women in any sense. You can ask one of my ex-girlfriends if you want tho.”

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 13 TH. 2013

The rainy days are the least crowded in the store. Only half an hour left before closing time, and it didn't look like any customers were going to walk in through the door. In the fridge, there were a couple of beers that Draken had bought for the Friday night shifts.

"You're going to laugh at me." The glass of the Asahi bottle was freezing the tips of your fingers. Inui had taken the last Kirin.

“Oh, believe me, I don't need to know your favorite movie to laugh at you. You give me plenty of reasons already.”

“I know, but I know you, and you're going to annoy me day and night.”

“It's Twilight, isn't it?” Silence fills the room before a deep laugh erupts from his chest. The sound quickens the pace of your heartbeat. It’s too pleasant, too familiar. If death were to knock on your door at that moment and offer you the chance to hear something for the last time, you would choose to hear Inui's laughter.

“Yes” You answer without thinking, with a smile on your face and a blush spreading across your cheeks. Your favourite movie isn’t Twilight, you don’t even like vampires. It was probably a 2000s sitcom or some Adam Sandler comedy. But you were still enchanted by the mischievous smile Inui fixed on you.

“Kokonoi has always hated Twilight” When he spoke those words, Seishu fixed his gaze ahead. He never talks about him. And you don’t really want to know. You observe how a sad smile makes its way in Inui’s face.

“And you don't?” You ask, giving him a light nudge in the torso.

“I love it” In response, your body turned automatically, your mouth opening in surprise.

“NO WAY” Now it’s your turn to laugh. Inui's eyes fixated on the dimple that occasionally appears on the right side of your face. He likes it (the dimple and your laugh).

“Draken and I went to watch Breaking Dawn Part Two at the cinema last year. Some girls invited us for a drink after the movie. It was fun.”

“Oh well, you use it as a flirting technique” You roll your eyes. A strange knot forms in your stomach as you speak those words “That doesn't count.”

“Pf, I don't need to say I like Twilight to flirt. Just covering this up with a bit of concealer is enough” His fingers pointed to the red mark that covered a quarter of his face.

Your eyebrows furrow at his words, and a wave of questions and emotions fill your mind. Why would someone as attractive as Inui feel the need to hide a birthmark?

“Why would you do that? You have a beautiful face.”

A lopsided smile appears on Inui's lips before he took a sip from his beer bottle. You can be as blunt as him when you want. (He also likes that)

“You're very kind. Try telling me that when we're not drinking” he says while flicking your forehead with his free hand.

“Inupi, are you laughing at me?” Grabbing his cheeks between your hands, you gently squeeze his face between the sleeves of your sweater. “You have an enviable face. You don't have to be ashamed of a birthmark.”

“It's not a birthmark” Setting the beer aside, the young man grabs your wrist and rolls up the sleeve of your sweater on your forearm to let your fingers touch his forehead.

Feeling the wrinkled skin under your fingers, you shiver. It indeed wasn’t a birthmark; it was a scar. So Inui decides it’s time to tell you everything. The fire, Akane, Kokonoi, Shinichiro, his adolescence. Throughout the monologue, your hand continues to caress his head, alternating between his forehead and some strands of his hair. (He appreciates that). His voice didn't waver at any point. It almost sounded like a rehearsed speech, bordering on robotic.

Evoking pity is disgusting. Just remembering how his family's friends acted after the fire makes him angry. The looks they gave when they discovered the mark beneath the bandage, the whispers when they left his sister's room, the loneliness of his parents. Everyone went to say goodbye to Akane, but no one stayed with the Inui family. Except Koko.

"And at what point in your story do heels come into play?" Your voice disrupts his thoughts. He notices your hand is no longer on his head. Sitting on the floor, imitating his posture, your pinky timidly caresses the back of his hand. A shy smile decorating your face, inviting him to speak more. "When did you start liking heels?"

He was never a cheerful child, but he was a child who loved to laugh. Akane always tried by all means to erase the poker face from his expression, and most of the time, she succeeded.

At some point during his speech, his pinky ends up entwined with yours.

MONDAY DECEMBER 23RD 2013

The day Inui Seishu cuts ties with Kokonoi Hajime, the workshop is swamped with tasks. Christmas is in two days and people want to be able to travel with their bikes. Draken never stops answering calls, and you attend to customers, jotting down the problems they describe and directing them on where to park their motorcycles for Inui to inspect later.

It's not traumatic, and no tears are shed. It's expected by both parties. They haven't slept together for weeks. Inui is always straightforward with his words, and that day is no exception. Koko chuckles and affectionately caresses his cheek. His white hair is tied in a braid, and a diamond adorns his right ear.

"One less Christmas gift to buy, huh?" A mischievous smile spreads across his face."Take care, Inupi. You always know where to find me."

A light drizzle falls over Tokyo. Upon entering, Inui fixes his gaze on the scene unfolding before him. The last customer has just left the shop when you place a Christmas hat on Draken's head. He's smiling as he bends down slightly. Seishu closes his umbrella and approaches the counter. Your eyes meet his, and your hand extends a piece of red fabric, shaking it slightly.

"I'm not going to wear a Santa Claus hat."

"I know you're not going to wear it yourself," you say, circling the counter and getting closer to him. "I'm going to put it on you."

"I don't have another choice, do I?" he asks, but your arms are already outstretched, and the synthetic fabric is caressing his still damp hair. Seishu's impassive face doesn't reveal any emotion, but a slight glint in his eyes indicates that he's not as annoyed as he's trying to show. When you finish placing the hat, you lightly pat his cheek.

"Look at yourself!"

"I'm not going to."

But even with the worst expression on his face and speaking with as little energy as possible, the smile struggling to break through gives him away. As you step away for a moment to go to the bathroom, Draken winks at him. Inui's middle fingers don't take long to show his boss his shiny black-painted nails.

"Nice color."

"Screw you."

"Thanks, buddy."

Seishu approaches the motorcycle he has to finish fixing. A liquid leak can be repaired in 45 minutes if he hurries.

"Inui."

"Hmm?"

"Teach me how to ride a motorcycle."

The blonde pauses in his work. You? On a motorcycle? You, who trip over your own shadow and seem always about to cry when it gets cold and you forget your jacket? (he always ends up lending you his) Well, no, he's not going to fix the bike’s problem in 45 minutes.

"Don't you think it's a bit dangerous to learn to ride a motorcycle in this weather?"

You sit down next to him on the floor and decide to watch as he resumes his work on the motorcycle.

"I can live with the risk it poses."

"All right, then. But I won't do it. Ask Draken," he says, rolling his eyes at your words. You huff. Not even a Christmas hat can motivate him.

"Draken is going to Osaka tomorrow to spend Christmas Eve with his friends."

"I know, he invited me to go with him."

"And? Are you going?"

"No, my parents want to have dinner with me" Inui lets out a sigh.

"Oh, well, that's fine," you reply. "So I guess we'll see each other on Wednesday. Don't think I'm going to stop insisting tho" you add.

Seishu smiles inwardly. He doesn't expect you to stop. (He doesn’t want you to.)

As you stand up to start tidying up the workshop, Draken says his goodbyes to both of you. He still has some packing to do, and he has to leave early in the morning, wishing you both a Merry Christmas.

"Why the sudden fixation on learning to ride a motorcycle?"

"I want to impress someone."

In all your interactions during the few months you've known each other, Inui has been the one to speak plainly. You always try to express things differently, frustrating everyone who dislikes indirectness (Him).

Seishu begins to remove his gloves. A small wrinkle forms on his forehead as he furrows his brows. Your shoes suddenly become the most interesting object in the room. So much so that you can't, and don't want to, take your eyes off them.

"Do you think you can impress someone by taking them on a motorcycle ride that could potentially end in the hospital?" Inui is the first to break the silence. His hands finish cleaning the motorcycle he has just repaired.

"He's used to my clumsiness. I don't think he'll be too impressed." The heat begins to rise in your cheeks as you speak each word.

Inui arches an eyebrow, intrigued by your words. But still, he doesn't say anything immediately. Instead, he stands up and places the gloves on the freshly repaired motorcycle. His eyes carefully examine your shoes for a moment, trying to see what's so interesting that you can't look at him.

"What if you tell him how you feel instead of trying to impress him with daring maneuvers?"

A mix of surprise and nervousness is reflected in your gaze. You know Inui always gets straight to the point, but speaking openly about your feelings is a bit more unfamiliar territory. However, you have resolved to take a step forward.

"That sounds too easy for the person I'm trying to win over. Don't you think a good dose of bravery on a motorcycle might be more effective?"

Inui smiles slightly, as if enjoying the wordplay.

"Oh, c’mon." Placing a hand on your head, he affectionately ruffles your hair. "What could be braver for you than being honest with yourself and others?" Fortunately, your brain can't throb like your heart is doing at that moment because, knowing Inui, he would drag you to the hospital in a heartbeat. "But, okay, if you think impressing him on a motorcycle is the best way to have a chance with him, then go ahead. I'll try to help you."

Your lips curve into a grateful smile.

"You're great, Inui, tha—"

"However, I have a condition. Actually, two." Placing a hand on your chin, he holds your head still to look into your eyes once and for all. Your shoes will have to stop being interesting for a few minutes. "The lesson will take place as soon as we finish the shift." As you open your mouth to reply, his finger moves to rest on your lips to prevent you from speaking. "And when we finish the lesson, invite me to watch 'Twilight' tonight and ask me out on a proper date. I'm not a fan of indirects."

"And what if I already have plans tonight?" you comment, gently withdrawing the hand that prevents you from speaking. Seishu smiles without taking his eyes off yours. His eyes reflect, for the first time in a long time, happiness. Your fingers interlace with his and his thumb caress your hand instantly.

"Then," leaning in close to your ear, you feel his breath on your ear. You love the smell of his shampoo "now you have better ones."

#tokyo revengers #inui seishu #inui x reader #inui seishu x reader #inupi seishu x reader #tokyo revengers fanfics #tokyo revengers x reader

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mxnsterbabe · 6 months ago

Text

Male Dragonborn/Female Reader SFW Wordcount: 4,586 Commissions | Ko-fi | Masterlist

You save A'rien's life. By dragonborn custom, he's in your debt.

It was late at night, and you were on your way back from a friend's house, the cool air brushing against your skin. The streets were unusually quiet, with only the soft rustling of leaves and the distant hoot of an owl to keep you company. You wrapped your cloak tighter around you, quickening your pace, eager to be home.

A sudden noise caught your attention, a clatter of metal followed by a grunt of pain. You hesitated, glancing towards a narrow alleyway just ahead. Shadows moved, and you could make out the forms of two figures struggling.

The hell was that?

As you neared the alley's entrance, you saw them more clearly. One was a dragonborn, his bronze scales glinting faintly in the moonlight, his form tall and imposing even as he dodged a punch from his opponent.

The other was an orc, his hulking frame dwarfing his opponent. The orc landed a heavy blow, and the dragonborn staggered, dropping to one knee. You watched in horror as the orc pinned him to the ground, a cruel smile spreading across his face.

You knew you had to do… something. Your mind raced, searching for a way to help. Without thinking, you grabbed a loose stone from the ground and hurled it at the orc. It struck his shoulder with a dull thud, not enough to injure but enough to draw his attention. The orc snarled, his grip on the dragonborn loosening as he turned to face you.

"Oi! What do you think you're doing?" the orc growled, his eyes narrowing as he took a step towards you.

Your heart pounded in your chest, but you stood your ground, meeting his gaze with as much defiance as you could muster. "Leave him alone!"

The orc chuckled darkly, but before he could take another step, the dragonborn took advantage of the distraction. With a burst of strength, he twisted beneath the orc, knocking him off balance. The orc stumbled, and the dragonborn surged up, delivering a swift punch to the orc’s jaw. The orc's eyes rolled back, and he collapsed to the ground, unconscious.

Breathing heavily, the dragonborn stood over the fallen orc, his eyes glowing with a mix of adrenaline and relief. He turned to you, his expression softening as he took in your form. "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice deep and resonant.

You nodded, still trying to catch your breath. "I think I should be the one asking you that."

He nodded, though his movements were slower, more measured. "I’m fine, thanks to you. I owe you my life."

You blinked, taken aback by his words. "It was nothing. I just... couldn’t stand by and do nothing."

He stepped closer, his gaze unwavering. "By dragonborn custom, a life debt is not nothing.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the determination in his eyes stopped you. There was a sincerity there, a deep-seated honour that you couldn't dismiss. "Life debt," you said softly. "I’m not sure it’s that serious."

He took a step forwards, and for the first time you saw a glint of green in his copper eyes. “This idiot had me pinned, if you hadn’t come along… I hate to think what could have happened. I owe you my life.”

Your brows furrowed. “I don’t think that’s necessary.”

He inclined his head respectfully. "I must. It is our way."

You sighed, realizing there was no arguing with him. "I suppose there’s no convincing you. What’s your name?"

"A'rien," he replied, his voice steady and calm.

"Well, A'rien," you said, offering him a tentative smile. "I guess we should get out of here before your friend wakes up."

He chuckled, a low, warm sound that eased the lingering tension. "Agreed. Lead the way."

You walked side by side, the night air cool and quiet around you. A'rien walked with a calm assurance, his presence both comforting and intriguing. He glanced at you, his amber eyes glinting in the dim light.

“Allow me to walk you home,” he offered.

You nodded, feeling a mix of gratitude and curiosity. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

As you made your way through the winding streets, you couldn’t help but steal glances at A'rien. His bronze scales shimmered subtly under the moonlight, each one catching the light in a way that made him seem almost otherworldly. The edges of his sharp teeth glinted when he spoke, and it made your heart skip.

“So, why were you fighting an orc in an alley?” you asked, biting your bottom lip.

A'rien’s expression turned slightly guarded. “It’s a long story. Let’s just say I’m not very popular in the orc community.”

You frowned, not satisfied with his vague answer. “Why not? What happened?”

He looked away for a moment, his gaze focused on the path ahead. “It’s complicated,” he said finally, a note of reluctance in his voice. “Orcs and dragonborn have a... history.”

Sensing his discomfort, you hummed. “Orcs have a history with just about everyone,” you replied softly. You turned a corner together, streetlights making his skin glitter. Turning your gaze away, you added, “they do love to pick fights.”

“We should report him to the guards.”

You walked in silence for a few moments, your thoughts racing. Despite his evasiveness, you felt a tug in your chest each time you glanced at A’rien. There was an allure in the way he held himself high, towering horns making him look even taller than he really was.

From the corner of your eye, you watched him as he surveyed the streets, ever vigilant. His features were strong and defined, with high cheekbones and a sharp jawline, a small underbite. Yet, there was a gentleness in his eyes when he looked at you, a softness that made your stomach flip.

Eventually, you spotted a pair of city guards patrolling a nearby street. You approached them, explaining the encounter with the orc.

“He’s probably left by now,” A’rien said, “but keep a look out for him. Big orc, tattoo on his left wrist. His name is Solveig, I don’t know his surname.”

The guard’s brow furrowed, almost like he’d been expecting it. “Yeah, Solveig’s pretty well known around here. Known for starting fights after a few too many drinks. We’ll keep an eye out for thim.”

“Good. Thank you.”

A’rien stepped away, turning back to you with a sharp-toothed smile. “So, I promised to walk you home. Lead the way.”

Despite the unusual circumstances of your meeting, you couldn’t deny the comfort you felt in his presence. He was big and imposing. Solid. Walking through the dark streets together, you couldn’t imagine anybody wanting to mess with you.

“So, which way now?” A'rien asked, glancing at you with a small smile.

“My home is just a few more streets down,” you replied. “If you have somewhere else you need to be...”

He shook his head. “My only duty now is to repay my debt to you. I will ensure you get home safely.”

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “Well since you can’t be convinced, thank you.”

As you continued walking, you found it increasingly difficult to ignore the growing attraction you felt for A'rien. There was something about the way he moved, the quiet strength he exuded, that drew you in. Each glance, each brush of his scales against your arm, sent a flutter through your chest.

“So, what brought you to this part of town tonight?” you asked, partly to distract yourself. Okay, entirely to distract you.

A'rien smiled slightly, his eyes glancing at you before returning to the path ahead. “Oh, nothing you’d be interested in hearing about.”

You nodded, not entirely satisfied with his evasiveness but willing to let it go because, well, it wasn’t any of your business. The night air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of blooming flowers and the distant hum of nocturnal life. It was peaceful, almost serene, and the presence of A'rien by your side made it all the more comforting.

As you neared your home, the streets became more familiar. A'rien seemed to sense your growing comfort and relaxed slightly, though his vigilance never entirely faded. Finally, you reached your door, pausing under the soft glow of a lantern.

“Thank you for walking me home,” you said, your voice a bit softer than you intended. “I appreciate it more than you know.”

A'rien’s gaze held yours, his amber eyes intense yet gentle. “It was my pleasure. Ensuring your safety is the least I can do.”

For a moment, the world seemed to narrow to just the two of you. The air between you crackled with unspoken words and possibilities. A'rien stepped closer, his towering form casting a protective shadow over you. You held your breath, your heart racing as he leaned down. For a second, you thought he might kiss you, and a rush of anticipation surged through you.

Instead, his hand reached up, his fingers brushing lightly against your cheek as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. The touch was tender, almost intimate, and it sent shivers down your spine. His proximity, his scent—earthy and slightly metallic—filled your senses.

“Goodnight,” he murmured, his voice a deep, soothing rumble.

You swallowed, your throat suddenly dry. “Goodnight, A'rien.”

With a lingering smile, he straightened and stepped back, giving you space. You turned and unlocked your door, feeling his eyes on you as you slipped inside. The door closed softly behind you, and you leaned against it, your heart still pounding.

As you made your way to your bedroom, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. The memory of his touch, the intensity of his gaze, stayed with you, replaying in your mind like a cherished scene from a dream. You changed into your nightclothes and slipped into bed, the cool sheets frigid against your skin.

Lying in the quiet darkness, you found your thoughts drifting back to A'rien. His strength, his gorgeous copper eyes, the unexpected gentleness in his expression—all of it captivated you.

You fell asleep thinking of him, and slept through the night without waking.

***

The next morning, as you opened the door to step outside, you were startled to see A'rien standing there. His bronze scales gleamed in the early sunlight, and he looked as composed and alert as ever. You blinked in surprise, trying to make sense of his presence.

“A'rien, what are you doing here?” you asked, unable to hide your astonishment. “How did you know what time I’d be out?”

A'rien’s expression was calm and serious. “I’ve been waiting since dawn.”

You laughed lightly, thinking he must be joking, but the unwavering look in his eyes told you otherwise. “Really?”

He nodded. “It is dragonborn custom. I owe you a life debt. I am honor-bound to protect you.”

The weight of his words settled over you, and you felt a mix of emotions—flattery, curiosity, and a touch of amusement at his earnestness. “I see,” you said, trying to keep your tone light. “Well, I appreciate your dedication.”

He inclined his head respectfully. “May I walk you to wherever you’re going?”

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you at his offer. “I’d like that. I’m heading to the apothecary.”

As you began walking together, town slowly waking up around you, you stole a glance at A'rien. He moved with a quiet grace, his eyes scanning the surroundings with vigilance. There was something incredibly reassuring about his presence, and you couldn’t help but feel a growing fondness for him.

“So,” you began, breaking the comfortable silence, “what does this life debt entail exactly?”

A'rien glanced at you, his expression thoughtful. “It means that until I have repaid my debt, I am bound to protect you, assist you in any way I can, and ensure your safety.”

You nodded, absorbing the gravity of his commitment. “That sounds like… a lot.”

He smiled slightly, a rare but welcome sight. “It is, but it is also an honour. Your act of saving my life binds us in a way that is deeply respected among my people.”

Yoru cheeks warmed at that.

The streets became busier as you approached the apothecary, and A'rien’s presence seemed to draw curious glances from passersby. It wasn’t common to see dragonborn around here, you couldn’t blame them for staring.

Reaching the apothecary, you turned to face him, feeling a pang of reluctance at the thought of parting ways, even if only for a few hours. “Thank you for walking me here,” you said sincerely.

A'rien nodded. “It was my pleasure. I will wait for you here when you finish your work.”

You smiled, touched by his unwavering commitment. “I’ll see you then.”

He smiled, almost wistfully, eyes bright. “Yes, I will see you this evening.”

***

The days at the apothecary passed in a blur of activity. Despite the bustle, your thoughts often drifted to A'rien. His steadfast presence outside each morning and evening had become a reassuring routine. True to his word, A'rien was waiting when your workday ended, ready to escort you home.

As the days turned into a week, you found yourself looking forward to these walks more and more. Every morning, he was there, a quiet sentinel, and every evening, he walked you home, his presence a comforting constant in your life. His dedication was unwavering, his protectiveness almost endearing.

One evening, after another long day, you couldn’t contain your curiosity any longer. As you strolled through the streets with A'rien by your side, you glanced at him, your brow furrowing slightly. “A'rien, I’ve been meaning to ask… what do you do for work? You’re always available to walk me to and from the apothecary. Are you never busy?”

A'rien’s expression remained composed, but you could see a flicker of something—hesitation, perhaps—in his eyes. “I… have certain duties that I fulfill. Ensuring your safety is my primary concern at the moment.”

You stopped walking, turning to face him fully. “A'rien, you’ve been incredibly kind and dedicated, but I feel like I don’t really know much about you. I’m not asking for your whole life story. Just… a hint.”

He sighed softly, looking away for a moment. When he met your gaze again, his eyes were dark. “It’s not that interesting, really.”

You didn’t have much choice but to accept that at face value because, well, you couldn’t force him to tell you. So you nodded, and fell silent, and didn’t ask any more. You didn’t ask the next day either, instead simply admiring him from the corner of your eyes while he wasn’t watching.

You noticed the small things about him—the way his eyes softened when he looked at you, the way he listened intently to your every word, the subtle way he ensured you were always safe and comfortable. This wasn’t just obligation.

At least, you hoped not.

One evening, as you walked home, the sun setting in a blaze of colors, you felt a sudden rush of affection for A'rien. You stopped again, this time on a quiet street where the sounds of the city were distant murmurs.

“A'rien,” you said softly, looking up at him. “I want you to know how much I appreciate you. Your dedication, your kindness… it means a lot to me.”

He looked down at you, his expression tender. “It is my honor. Protecting you is not just a duty—it’s something I want to do.”

Without thinking, you reached out and took his hand. His scales were cool under your touch, rough and leathery. It brought a smile to your lips.

When you reached your door, you turned to face him, your heart pounding. “Goodnight, A'rien. I’ll see you in the morning?”

He smiled, a rare and beautiful sight. “Goodnight. I’ll be here.”

As you unlocked the front door, a sudden movement seemed to catch A’rien’s eye. His posture stiffened, and he held up a hand. “Be quiet,” he whispered, his voice tense and alert.

Confusion washed over you, quickly morphing into fear as you followed his gaze. Across the lawn, partially hidden by the shadows of the trees, was a hulking figure. Your heart sank as you recognized the orc from before—Solveig. This time, he was armed with a serrated knife that glinted in the faint light.

A'rien remained calm, but you could feel the tension radiating from him. Meanwhile, panic surged through you, your breath coming in short, shallow gasps as Solveig stepped forward, his eyes locked on you with a predatory gleam.

A'rien moved to stand between you and the advancing orc, his stance protective. “Stay behind me,” he murmured, his voice steady. He glanced back at you, his eyes filled with determination. “It seems I will repay my life debt sooner than anticipated.”

You nodded, too frightened to speak, your eyes wide as Solveig approached, his footsteps heavy and deliberate. The orc’s smile was cruel, his grip on the knife tightening as he prepared to strike.

With a growl, Solveig lunged forward, his knife aimed. A'rien met the attack head-on, his bronze scales catching the dim light as he braced himself for the clash. Your heart pounded in your chest, every muscle in your body tensed.

A'rien met Solveig's lunge with a swift, fluid spin, unsheathing two gleaming daggers in the blink of an eye. The blades clashed against Solveig's serrated knife, the sound of metal on metal ringing through the night. You swore that you saw sparks fly, but surely that was impossible.

Right?

Solveig's brute strength was overwhelming, each blow powerful enough to cause the ground to shake beneath your feet.

A'rien had agility on his side as he slipped around Solveig, scales glinting in the waning light. His expression twisted as he slashed at Solveig, opening up a slash across Solveig’s shoulder. Red blood bloomed.

You watched, heart in your throat, as A'rien dodged Solveig’s next attack, barely managing to duck out of the way as the knife came down.

Fear gripped you, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the fight. Your thoughts raced—should you run inside for help or stay and find some way to assist A'rien? The temptation to seek safety inside was strong, but you couldn’t bring yourself to abandon him.

Solveig roared, swinging his knife in a wide arc. A'rien ducked and rolled, his daggers flashing as he struck back. Each strike was measured, aimed to disable rather than kill, showcasing his skill and control. Solveig was relentless, pressing forward with sheer force, his knife slicing through the air with lethal intent.

You ducked back into the shadows, your mind a whirl of fear and helplessness. You wished desperately for a way to help, your hands trembling as you clutched the fabric of your cloak. The intensity of the fight was overwhelming, every clash and grunt sending a shiver down your spine.

In a sudden, brutal move, Solveig managed to land a crushing blow to A'rien's side, sending him sprawling to the ground. A'rien’s daggers skidded across the lawn, out of reach. Solveig loomed over him, his smile twisted with victory.

Panic surged through you. Without thinking, you darted forward, determined to help A'rien despite the danger. As you moved, A'rien’s voice rang out, strong and commanding. “No!”

You froze, your heart pounding in your chest. A'rien struggled to rise, his eyes fixed on you, desperate. The message was clear—your safety was paramount, and he didn’t want you to risk yourself.

Tears stung your eyes as you took a step back, torn between the urge to help and the fear of making things worse. It felt like your chest was constricting, breath coming in rasping gasps.

Despite A'rien's warning, you couldn't stand by and do nothing. Summoning every ounce of courage, you rushed forward, your mind racing. You watched as if in slow motion as Solveig drew back his knife, looming over A’rien-

You weren’t thinking. Barely even aware of A’rien’s, no, stop! You rushed forwards, arms outstretched, and tackled Solveig. The ricochet of your own body slamming into his made you bounce back, legs flailing; but as you fell, you brought Solveig down with you.

"Shit!" Solveig growled, as the two of you landed in a tangle of limbs.

Your heart pounded, but rolled away from Solveig, wiping diary and hair from your eyes. "Leave him alone!"

With Solveig distracted, A'rien seized the opportunity. With a surge of strength, he lunged forward from the ground, sweeping Solveig's legs out from under him as he tried to stand. The orc stumbled, crashing back down to his knees, and A'rien sprang up, delivering a powerful blow to Solveig's head. The orc's eyes rolled back, and he collapsed, unconscious.

Breathing heavily, A'rien glanced at you, a mix of relief and gratitude in his eyes. "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice rough from exertion.

You nodded, your pulse still racing. "I’m fine. We need to tie him up before he wakes."

Without wasting a moment, you dashed into the house, searching for anything that could serve as a restraint. Your hands trembled slightly as you grabbed a coil of rope from a storage closet. You hurried back outside, where A'rien was already moving Solveig towards the porch railing.

Together, you worked quickly, your fingers fumbling with the rope as you bound Solveig securely to the railing. A'rien’s movements were efficient and precise, his strength ensuring that the knots were tight and unyielding. You could feel his calm presence beside you, compared to your own erratic movements.

Once Solveig was securely tied, you stepped back, breathing a sigh of relief. The immediate danger had passed, but the weight of what had just happened still hung in the air. You turned to A'rien, your eyes meeting his.

“Thank you,” you said softly, your voice shaking slightly. “I couldn’t just stand by and watch.”

A'rien’s gaze softened, and he reached out, gently placing a hand on your shoulder. “You were brave,” he said, his voice filled with admiration. “Please, next time, listen to me.”

Laughter burst from your throat, high pitched and manic. “I can’t promise that.”

As the adrenaline from the fight began to fade, a sense of relief washed over you. A'rien finished securing the last knot and stood up, glancing at you with a twinkle in his eyes. He broke the silence with a light-hearted chuckle.

"That's two life debts now," he said, his voice teasing. "You’ll never be rid of me at this rate."

You laughed softly, the tension easing from your shoulders. "That’s fine by me," you replied, meeting his gaze with a warm smile. "I don’t want to be rid of you."

A'rien’s expression softened, his warm eyes meeting yours. Without thinking, you stepped closer, your heart beating faster as you felt the magnetic pull between you.

He reached out, his hand gently brushing a strand of hair away from your face. The gesture was tender, his touch sending shivers down your spine. His eyes flickered to your lips and then back to your eyes, silently asking for permission.

You nodded, your breath hitching as you leaned in. His lips met yours in a gentle, tentative kiss. The world seemed to fall away, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of warmth. A'rien’s kiss was surprisingly soft, his lips cool against yours. You could taste a hint of metallic sweat, mingled with an almost earthy flavour that was distinctly his.

You responded, deepening the kiss as your arms found their way around his neck. His hands settled on your waist, pulling you closer, the strength in his embrace balanced by an unexpected gentleness. He kissed you like a man starved. Or, perhaps, like a man who had wanted to do this for far too long.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting against each other’s. You could feel the warmth of his breath mingling with yours.

A'rien’s eyes were half-closed, a content smile playing on his lips. His fangs peeked through. Cute.

"I never thought I’d find someone like you," he murmured, his voice thick.

The night was quiet again, the tension of the earlier confrontation easing into a calm, peaceful silence. You and A'rien stood there, wrapped in each other’s embrace, simply enjoying the moment. The warmth of his presence, the steady beat of his heart, was a comforting balm to your nerves.

A'rien broke the silence with a gentle kiss on your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment. “We should alert the guards that we have Solveig before he wakes up,” he said softly.

You nodded, your thoughts reluctantly shifting back to the unconscious orc tied to your porch. “Will he have a concussion?” you asked, glancing over at Solveig’s prone form.

“Definitely,” A'rien replied with a small smile. “Orcs are hardy. He’ll be fine.”

As you started to pull away, A'rien leaned in to kiss you again, a soft, lingering kiss that made your heart flutter. His hands gently released their hold on you, but the warmth of his touch stayed with you.

As you turned towards the door, a thought struck you, and you paused. “A'rien, why are you in town?” you asked, your curiosity getting the better of you. “You never did answer me, and with Solveig here, I can’t help but wonder…”

A'rien’s expression grew slightly more serious, his eyes holding yours for a long moment. He opened his mouth to respond, but the weight of his words seemed to hang in the air.

Eventually, A'rien took a deep breath and met your gaze. "I suppose you deserve to know the truth," he began, his voice tinged with a mixture of resignation and vulnerability. "I was supposed to be trying out for a position as a city guard."

You blinked in surprise, and then a laugh bubbled up, breaking the tension. "Why did you hide that from me?"

A faint smile played on his lips. "I wanted you to think I was skilled and battle-worthy, not just some recruit trying out for a position. I didn't want you to see me as weak."

You stepped closer, your hand finding his. "A'rien, you are skilled and battle-worthy. You've proven that more than once. You should still go for the position."

He shook his head, a self-deprecating chuckle escaping him. "How can I be a good guard if I've had to be saved by you twice now?"

You silenced him with a kiss, your lips capturing his. The odd texture of his skin didn’t bother you; the warmth of his breath, the coolness of his scales, made your chest flutter.

His surprise melted into warmth, and he responded with a deep, breathy sigh.

When you pulled back, your foreheads resting against each other, you whispered, "You are strong and capable, A'rien. Everyone needs help sometimes. That doesn't make you weak.”

A'rien’s eyes softened. "You always know what to say," he murmured, his voice filled with warmth.

Just then, the distant sound of guards approaching grew louder, breaking the intimate bubble around you. A'rien straightened, his hand still holding yours. "I suppose we should let them know about Solveig," he said, his tone practical, even as his eyes glowed.

You rolled your eyes, sliding your hand snugly into his. “I suppose we should.”

#exophilia fiction #exophilia #monster romance #monster x reader #monster boyfriend #tag: mxf #tag: male monster #tag: female reader #tag: sfw #tag: dragonborn

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