#i want him to remain single and alone because i don't like him | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

caramelkoo · 5 months ago

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be still my heart — jjk [one]

the one in which you get a sex dream about the grouchy hockey player you work for.

genre : childhood best friends to frenemies to lovers, physical therapist!reader x hockey player!jungkook, slow burn, smut, fluff, angst

word count : 5.2k

chapter warnings : strong language, mature, slight smut (because im a tease), reader’s name is Destiny, jungkook is a bit grumpy towards her (she makes him nervous leave my boy alone), fat shaming (not by any of the main characters), oc had daddy issues, mentions of allergy. that’s about it, please let me know if i missed something.

a/n : here it isssssss drumrolls please because im so excited for this. jungkook as a hockey player??? *deep breaths* enjoy my lovely people. you’re so so loved. asks, reblogs and likes are much appreciated. kisses <3

read part two here

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“Babe, you know you're not going to win right? Don't be wasting your breath.” Bella challenges.

You’re sitting on the chair in your office going through the personnel file of the players. Verifying their names with their contact numbers and photographs which, you’re not going to lie, look like mugshots. Jeez, does smiling a little bit cost them? Anyways, once you’re done you close the file and look up at your assistant bickering with her boyfriend. Phone pressed against her ear.

You mime hanging up the call and she lifts her index finger, indicating for you to wait. She throws in words like hmmm, yeah, you don’t know what you’re saying, yeah i love you too. Once she’s done, she drops the phone on the glass table in front of you and leans back in her chair.

“He thinks I will let him get away with anything just because I love him”

You chuckle, “What’s going on?”

“You know, I’ve been wanting a cat for so long I even made a pinterest board for that. Last Sunday he surprised me with one and when I told him that I lowkey manifested it, he was not having it. I even showed him the mood board and I NEVER show it to anyone. Evil eye is real.” she all but cries out.

That’s Bella for you. Highly spiritual and a firm believer of the universe. She claims that everything happens for a reason. She’s like a little ball of sunshine. Ever since you joined the Ice Dominators’ hockey team as a physical therapist, she’s been assisting you and you couldn’t be more thankful seeing the lack of female workers here. Seriously, there's no other female worker here except yourself and Bella which is so diabolical to you.

And it’s not like the men on the hockey team are a bunch of misogynist jerks. On the contrary, they act like they’ve known you for years. It didn't take you long to feel like home here. They are obedient, friendly and pretty nice. Few of them are married with kids while the rest of them remain single. They’re not like a bunch of teenagers, they know what they’re doing.

Except one, what’s his name? Jeon Jungkook. You would describe that man as crude and closed off to a pathological degree. You still remember when you asked him to come to your office so you can look at any possible previous injuries, he lied to your fucking face. Claiming he doesn’t have any when you could clearly see him hobbling sometimes just a tiny bit when he walked away. Years and years of dedication towards your studies have made you capable enough to catch that it is an old injury.

Despite your better judgment, you blamed it on the fact that his team lost the game that day. Poor guy was having a bad day and took it out on you. Big deal.

“Earth to Destiny” Bella waves a hand close to your face and you shake your head as you look at her.

“Leave the poor man alone” You plead and then ask, “Any details about the new player? I’ll have to add it in the file”

“Not yet, as far as I know they’re still contemplating the guy named Park Jimin or something”

That gets you real quick. Park Jimin. The name feels like acid on your tongue .The last game being unsatisfactorily resulted in the federation trading one of the players. It was cruel but was done for the better. Bound to happen sooner or later. You had expected it but what you had not expected was you both sharing a same room, sharing the same air.

“Alright then. We’ll cross that bridge when it’s—”

Knock, knock

“Miss Kim, sorry to interrupt but the manager is asking for you” Taehyung’s head pokes through the door.

You stand, picking up the file and sliding it into the tableside drawer, running a free hand over your scrubs. Bella does the same as she plucks her phone from the table and puts it inside her back pocket.

You look at him. “Sure Tae, thank you for informing”

He flashes you a quick, pretty smile before leaving. Bella turns to you with a worried look on her face.

“What do you think it is for?”

You bite your lip. “I have no idea. I wanna say it's about the new player but who knows?”

You hope it is and as unfortunate as it is for you to discuss him, you will have to hold your own. You know better than to be invited into the manager’s office. Though, judging by the temperament of him you would not predict anything. Last time when he called you, it was about Jeon Jerk, asking you to be more serious about your job as if it was your fault the man spared you the necessary details.

The asshole asked YOU to do your job better by virtue of HIS player not being sweet enough to listen. Maybe, there is indeed a misogynistic asshole going around and it’s the manager. No wonder women don’t volunteer to work for him.

Since, You love your job —god knows you wanna keep doing it— you kept quiet and took every jab he threw at you.

“Wait, Do I have time to pray? Should I pray?” she’s clearly panicking and you pat her on the shoulder.

“Just hope my job is still intact” you say, warily reaching for your purse. You both head out.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚

“Miss Kim, have a seat” James nods at the chair before him.

Once you’re settled, he continues, “I asked for you to join me here regarding the upcoming game. Care to fill in about the status of injury assessment?"

You clear your throat, “Absolutely, I was planning on getting on that today”

“Well, I would love for you to do it soon as you know we have a new player in the team with us now”

You jerk, leaning forward. “We do?”

“Yes, and if you can please hurry with the assessment I would be grateful. You can do that right? Not too much of a work for you, eh?”

Someone give him a medal from the way he's trying to hide the venom in his voice.

“Sure I can” you give him a firm nod.

James Adams is an entitled, self centered asshole who thinks he’s above everyone else just because of his position. You reckon he does anything for the team besides talking bullshit. He kind of reminds you of your dad who also has the nasty habit of thinking the world of himself.

You’re all about self love but when that self love turns into chronically demeaning everybody in their close proximity, it boils your blood. This man in front of you is no better than your father. What's that saying? Out of the frying pan into the fire.

So you say nothing further and excuse yourself. You would have barfed in his face if you stayed there a second longer. Actually that's not a very bad idea. Bella is standing outside waiting for you as you close the door behind yourself.

“What did he say?”

You bark, “Bunch of horseshit”

“Typical”

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Jungkook

There is a buzzing noise somewhere around Jungkook. Fuck, his head hurts. He frantically searches for his phone, still not opening his eyes. When he finds it, he slides his thumb on the screen and picks up the call.

“Dude, how big do you want your coffin to be?” He loves his best friend but right now he would rather be sleeping than listen to him bark in his own ear.

He finally squints his eyes open, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Have you looked at the time?” says Taehyung.

“What time- FUCK!!!” he shrieks as he looks at the clock.

Somebody kill him right now. No wait, he’s gonna die either way so why bother. If he didn’t scream loud enough before, he does now. He all but jumps off the bed when he sees the blondie on the other side sleeping like she fucking owns it, wearing nothing but a thong. She must have heard him malfunctioning because soon she stirs, groaning as she slowly wakes up like a Disney princess. Who the heck is she and how did she get in here? Then it comes to him.

“Please Jungkook just take me to your room and fuck me. Show me what those hockey hands are capable of.”

He wants to swallow a fistful of iron nails. Speaking straight from his shoulders, he has made plenty of bad decisions throughout his career and this is not his first time bringing a puck bunny up to his room but it has never come to this. Missing his hockey practice because he was too exhausted to get his sweet ass up and run to the academy.

Taehyung screams from the other side of the line, “Are you there? Hello?”

Shit, he forgot he was on a call.

“I’ll be there soon. Cover for me until then.” With that he presses the red circular button and ends the call with him muttering some curses.

He glances back at the blondie, “Why are you not gone yet?”

She’s looking at him with those fuck me eyes she had last night but right now when he’s well aware of the fact that he’s in hot water, they don’t do shit to him. Coach will have his head on a platter today for sure. Honestly, they wouldn’t have done shit to him if it was not for the great deal of alcohol last night.

“I thought of you as a morning sex person” she twirls a strand of hair with her finger, sitting up now. Her tits hang free and he can see his hickeys decorating her chest.

He wants to laugh. She’s not even close to his type. His type is the woman in blue scrubs with her brunette hair slicked back in a ponytail. His type is the woman who looks like she could be watching grass grow rather than to look at him. His type is the woman who walks into a room and lights it up. His type is the woman who is too bright for him and his mundane personality, who has a face worth millions. His type is Kim Destiny.

“No need to waste your precious time thinking about me. You can go”

He places his phone back on the table and saunters over to the bathroom, not bothering looking back at her. He has boundaries and he intends to keep it that way.

He quickly goes through his routine of taking a shower, making a cup of coffee, sliding into a pair of sweatpants and the Ice Dominator’s jersey with his name on the back. Not in that order, of course.

The girl is thankfully gone by the time he finishes. Once he’s done with his coffee he picks up the car keys and a protein bar from the kitchen counter and heads to the academy hoping his limbs remain intact by the time he’s home.

The Academy is bustling as usual with players keeping themselves busy with hockey and their gym sessions. He heads straight for the rink not even bothering to change into the uniform. He needs to see for himself that everybody is still on the ice. Everything comes after that.

Surprisingly, he sees not a single guy when he reaches there. His heartbeat stops.

“Hey Pixie, where are the boys? Did they already leave?” he asks the brunette kid who looks like he just saw a ghost. Or it’s just Jungkook who he saw.

He shakes his head, “They’re all in the gym. The doc called them earlier, said she had something important to get done with them”

Jungkook gives him a quick thanks and walks towards the gym. What could be so important that she had to call the boys mid practice? Is someone hurt? Is she hurt? His heart leaps in hid throat as he runs. Fuck, please let him be wrong.

The first thing that he sees as he enters the room full of equipment are his teammates. Taehyung and Yoongi are in the corner lifting weights, Namjoon is using the treadmill as he runs on it. The rest of the boys are all scattered around doing their own thing. He still can’t find Destiny anywhere but her assistant, Bella, is talking to Namjoon while holding a file so he lets out a sigh, relieved that nobody is in fact hurt and in need of help.

“Do you wanna get a tattoo on the peni— oh look who’s here. Jeon Jungkook as I live and breathe.”

Taehyung drops the weight on the ground before walking up to him. He’s dressed in a black tee and sports shorts. The man looks good in everything. Bet he’d look in a sack too.

“Whoa!! Why do you look like you wanna kill somebody or wanna get killed? Is everything okay?”

Jungkook lets his face relax, focusing more on the eyebrows which had gone tensed due to his unnecessary anxiety. “Yeah, all’s good. The practice ended early?”

“The practice ended just on time. It’s you who’s late” he pats my shoulder.

He runs his fingers through his hair and walks towards the bench, dropping his bag on it. Taehyung follows him ignoring Yoongi who’s calling him back for the weightlifting.

“Doc wanted to assess our injuries for the last time before our game if you’re curious which, I know you are. You’re always curious about her”

He winks at Jungkook and he punches him on the chest. Taehyung laughs as he rubs the spot.

“Keep your voice down, will you?”

Bella’s voice echoes across the room, “Jeon, you’re up next”

He takes out his water bottle, takes a swig and stands. A wince leaves him as he gets a flashback of the last time he had to face her. It didn’t go very well and he’s sure she hates him now. He would too. After all, he not only talked to her rudely but also lied through his teeth about his injury. It’s pretty old so he had not felt the need to mention it.

He sees a guy coming out of the office just before he’s about to enter. He has brown hair long enough to reach the nape of his neck. Even from where Jungkook’s standing, he can say the man doesn’t reach above his shoulders. Who the fuck is he? Oh wait, he must be the new player that got traded down here. The guy must have sensed him making a hole through his head by the way he’s staring because he’s begins walking towards him with a bright grin.

“Hey man, you must be Jeon Jungkook? Heard a lot about you. I’m Park Jimin” He holds out his hand, asking Jungkook to shake it and he gives it a firm handshake. Word to the wise : never give someone a weak handshake. His grandfather has been asking him to do that ever since he was 15, said it doesn’t leave a strong impression and he’s be lying if he says he was wrong.

He offers Jimin a nod, “Nice to meet you. Excited to get on the rink with you.”

He takes his hand back. “Oh the feeling is mutual but—”

“Jungkook, please join me inside”

Destiny’s voice cuts him off as she looks over to both of them with an eerie expression on her face. Her eyes bounce between them, resting a second longer on Jimin. Does she know him? Do they have a history? Wait, are they a thing? Even if they are, why does it bother him? Jungkook couldn’t care less about the pretty physical therapist who wears her blue scrubs like armor and white crocs with strawberries on them.

He gives Jimin another nod and follows her into the office. Although, he’s not sure if a massage table and a stool resting beside it counts as an office. The room which she works in is much better. This one is just for examinations and massage therapy so he guesses it doesn’t need that much of an upgrade.

She gestures towards the table, “Please sit”

He says nothing and settles himself up, clearing his throat.

“Look I know we got off on the wrong foot last time and it could have gone so much better, but we can still start over right?”

Destiny takes a deep breath, filling her chest with air. She’s wearing her hair in a bun today. It sits at the top of her head and some strands are set loose cascading down her face. God, she’s pretty.

He looks down and back up at her. “Sure”

Her face shows her annoyance with the one word response. He doesn't blame her. He'd be pissed too.

She’s quiet for a moment, “Why don’t you tell me about your knee injury to start with?”

“What are you talking about?”

She sighs, “You know what I’m talking about Jungkook. Please don’t make me work for it. It’s my job to know about your past and present injuries, if any. The manager has already given me crap about it”

He freezes. His hackles rising and his relaxed face long gone.

“What did he say?”

“Nothing”

He levels her with a stern face, “What.did.he.say?”

She’s not obligated to answer him. Hell, she could just slap him in the face and leave but he needs to know what went down with that son of a bitch. When and if she decides to let him in the details and it turns out something wicked, he’s gonna hunt that man down and make his life miserable.

Much to his surprise, she takes a step back and starts talking. "He called me in his office today and," she halts,

"Well let's just say there were some words thrown around which clearly meant he thinks of me as a feather brained bitch"

He might look unbothered from outside but the indignation inside him could just about burn the whole city down. He tries to keep calm and pries some more.

His jaw clenches. "What else?"

Destiny shakes her head, shuffling on her feet. “Jungkook it’s really not that seriou—”

“It is serious. You work for us, you tolerate our asses and in return if we fail to give you the respect which, you deserve by the way cause it’s the bare minimum, we might as well save everyone’s time and money by giving all of this up.”

“Why do you care?” she shakes her head.

He takes a step forward, “Because you— Because you work for us, Destiny. You look out for our bodies, our injuries, our fuckups. Is that not enough?”

She barely reaches his shoulders. It’s cute how she has to crane her neck up in order to look him in the eye. She keeps looking at him for a long minute, searching his face.

“You think I don’t know that? Do you really think I don’t have what it takes to ask for my own dignity?”

He takes a long step back. This conversation was as unforeseen as they come. The room gets filled with heavy silence and he can hear Destiny’s heavy breath. He can tell she’s trying to calm herself as if his words have blindsided her.

Needless to say she’s a tad bit taken aback. Jungkook would be too if someone who never bothered to speak a word to him and when he did, there was nothing pleasant about his tone suddenly started to care.

But that’s where she’s wrong, nothing about his care or concern for her is sudden. He still remembers the day she accidentally drank the almond smoothie Bella brought not knowing the fact that she’s allergic to it. She’d started choking the second it went down her throat. He also remembers how Yoongi injected the epipen against her thigh as she came back to life.

Meanwhile, he stood behind shaking in his goddamn boots. Too scared to let her out of his sight and too pathetic to hold her close. Yeah, he’s not proud of that.

He sighs, “You know that’s not what I meant—”

Namjoon walks inside with a hand towel around his neck “Doc, you about done? The boys are being incorrigible over there. If you don’t hurry, one of them is gonna call a tattoo artist and get their dick tattooed. Right here”

The room falls silent.

“Jesus” she looks over to where the guys are bickering about something, propping her hands on her hips. “Yeah, give me a minute.”

“Sure” and with that he walks away.

She picks up a blue file from the stool, not looking at him. Why is she not looking at him?

“If you don’t want to tell me about your injury right now, that’s fine. Since, I know it’s pretty old and It’s unlikely that you’re gonna get affected by it in the upcoming games, there’s no need to worry. However, I would still suggest you be careful. Anything can happen out there and your knee is in a vulnerable position. Don’t pick unnecessary fights, don’t let the opponent know your weak link.”

She glances at him, dropping the file back to where it was.

“You can go”

Without a preamble, he heads outside, passing Taehyung. He hears him cracking a joke about penis tattoos and piercings with his girlfriend’s name on it. Destiny cracks up and Jungkook wonders if she would have done the same, had he been the one cracking the joke. Only, he doesn’t crack jokes. Not around her at least. It’s not like he's some grumpy bastard who wants nothing to do with anybody around him and thinks of him as omniscient.

There’s just something about Destiny which puts him at loss of words. Knotting his tongue it in such a way where he can’t get an expression out. Only look at her and god, does he look at her. He's not stupid. He knows it’s a crush but she’s like a mirage to him. She’s unreachable, forbidden and so fucking beautiful.

Does he want to make her his? Yes, Is he going to risk his career and hers over it? Absolutely not. So, he makes use of the only right nobody can take away from him. Not even her. Admire her from afar. Fantasize more about tasting her, licking her slender neck and worshipping the ground that she walks on and one day if she lets him, Jungkook will do anything to turn all of that into reality.

He finds Yoongi seated on of the benches, scrolling on his phone.

Facing him, Jungkook speaks in a low voice. "Do you have any idea where James is?"

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Destiny

Never have you ever wanted to run away as much as you did when you saw Jimin in front of yourself, standing all tall and proud. You had wished it to be a dream, wished you just had a nightmare about him joining the same team you happen to work with but reality is a goddamn bitch and it bites hard when it does. He had grown out his hair longer but he still has the same smile, same eyes and the same charm he used on you back then. Park Jimin is a man people don’t ever forget once they see him. He has an aura which traps everyone so hard they can never escape. How do you know? You have been a victim yourself.

You meticulously go through the consequences and eventualities of being in the same room as him again. You seeing him everyday and him reminding you of every single detail you have tried so hard forgetting about, the boys finding out about you both and putting you through the wringer or worse, him. The possibilities are endless and you feel the sudden urge to square everything with him.

Contrary to what you had thought, he reacted pretty normally when he saw you as if somebody had already told him about you. You had expected him to get shocked or at the very least pretend to be shocked.

Having said that, he just gave you a single nod as if you're someone he passes by every morning at the park. Are you this forgettable? Are you someone people just brush aside like that? Your father’s words echo in your ears like loud drums,

“You know, nobody will love you if you keep looking like this. Eat less”

“Girl, do you ever stop eating? Every time I see you, you're stuffing something in that mouth of yours!!”

“Don’t come running back at me when no guy gives a shit about you”

You were 10 and he was an asshole. He still is.

Thanks to him, you now have a tendency to cook when you're stressed over anything. It brings you comfort and diverts your mind from the excessive overthinking. You would go bald if it puts the voices into silent mode.

After already wasting half of your life speculating what to eat, counting calories and whatnot, you came to the terms that you can’t actually operate that way and began eating whatever the fuck you wanted. Yet still, you need to go a long way in order to fully love yourself and your body. It's a journey and you're moving ahead step by step. One day at a time.

One would even say you're hot. You have received compliments from several people over the course of time except you don’t have a thigh gap, your arms jiggle and you also happen to have a love handle. You would have adored them if it wasn’t for your dad making you feel shitty about having them.

A knock on your door stops you midway as you're kneading the dough. Biscuit runs over to you, jumping on the counter.

“Coming”

The knock comes back again, this time slightly louder.

“Oh my god wait I’m coming”

The door swings open and you gasp. “Mina?”

She passes by you, dragging her suitcase along with her.

“Hey bestie”

You close the door and follow her further into the hall. “What’s going on? What’s with the suitcase?”

Your best friend’s sudden arrival must have caught you by slight surprise but your cat is rather pleased to see her. Traitor. She starts clawing at her feet excitedly.

“What a good girl you are? Yes, you are” Mina coos at her and then glances up at you from where she has biscuit nestled in her lap,

“I need a place to live for a few days because my shitty boss kept rejecting all my articles and I really wanna bring her something worth the front page. Apparently, writing about the famous coffee shop around the corner and their secret ingredient being maple syrup wasn’t good enough.”

You round the counter and continue kneading the dough for your strawberry pie. It’s not unlikely for Mina to show up unannounced. In fact, she has done that plenty of times but the suitcase was never involved. This one is new.

“So you decided to barge in here without even asking?” You tease.

She flashes you a dramatic look. “Look at us, Destiny. Aren’t we the same girls who giggled about living together after college? With matching slippers and movie marathons?”

“Okay okay you dramatic bitch. How long are you here for?”

Biscuit runs to do her business and she gets up, setting her suitcase to the side.

She sighs, “Not sure. As long as it takes me to come up with a new topic to write about–HEY— why don’t I just write on the hockey team you work with? What are they called? Ice…ice”

“Ice Dominators” you fill in for her.

She slaps her thigh. “That’s the one”

You shrug, “I mean you can, but you’ll have to call in on the coach first. He operates everything inside and outside the team”

Coach Ian is too nice to turn her request down. He’s one of the most genuine people in the federation. Maybe this is why the team is so strong and united. He respects every single boy and receives it tenfold. It's a mutual thing.

“Shit, How come I didn’t think about that” she bites her lip, her enthusiasm replaced by nervousness.

“Don’t worry. He won’t make you work for it. Ian is as nice as they come” you assure.

She takes a deep breath and lets it out. As you watch, she opens your fridge, taking out the box of frozen blueberries and pops one into her mouth.

“Do you want me to give you a hand?” she mumbles while chewing.

You point towards the bathroom, “Go and take a shower, right now. You stinky”

You duck the blueberry she throws your way, laughing as you do. Giving your cheek one last kiss, she excuses herself.

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Warm hands roam over your thigh, squeezing them. You muffle your moan with your palm and take every thrust.

“Yeah, you like that? You like how I’m pounding into this ass right now?”

You gasp.

“Such a good girl” he praises.

The man behind you presses a kiss to your naked shoulder as he rasps in your ears, “Were you walking around all day dripping for me?”

He pulls his cock out and thrusts again. You meet him with equal passion and hunger.

“Tell me”

You nod.

“I need your words, Destiny”

You cry out, “Yes Oh god, Yes. I wanted you in me so bad”

He cups your pussy and rubs your clit with his palm until you're rolling your eyes to the back of your head and squirming. Thrust after thrust he brings you to your sweet release while talking dirty things in your ear. You're about to melt into a puddle of goo. He’s got you totally at his mercy.

“So beautiful like this. Taking my cock so well huh?”

“Ahh it feels so good, right there. Just right there, don’t stop”

He bites down your shoulder, “Come for me and let everyone outside hear the name you’re screaming, you dirty whore”

Your heartbeat picks up as you squeeze him with the tight ring of muscle, orgasm crashing over.

“FUCK. Oh my god Jungkook!!”

Your eyes fling open and you sit up so fast your head starts spinning. Everything around you is pitch black. Wait, where am you?

Mina is at your side in an instant, “Destiny, are you okay babe?”

You look around and release a sigh of relief. You run your fingers through your hair, ruffling them.

“Yeah um… I’m fine. It was just a bad dream. Go back to sleep.”

Except it wasn’t. It was one hell of a dream where you were getting fucked into oblivion by your player. You're not even going to lie and say that you didn’t like it. C’mon you're a woman of needs, it’s just that, him fulfilling those needs was not on the cards for you even if it wasn't real.

You check the time on your phone and wince at the bright light flashing up at you. It’s 2:45 am and you just had a back breaking sex dream about a man who you want nothing to do with. Who, as beautiful as he is, annoys the hell out of you with those one word replies and grumpy face. An edgy feeling threatens to rise.

Oh god it’s going to be awkward now. It’s only normal to walk on eggshells around someone people have these sort of dreams about. You have read your fair share of books where the female character gets a sex dream about a man and then they don’t talk to each other for the rest of their lives. Okay, that's a bit of a stretch but it might as well not be.

Yeah, you admit you guys don’t talk to each other a lot as it is, or are longtime best friends tiptoeing around their feelings, but you're afraid you're gonna have to ignore him forever for the sake of your own sanity.

I’m so fucked. You think.

tags - @httpjeonlicious @lovingkoalaface @rpwprpwprpwprw

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lightseoul · 18 days ago

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a/n. pleasantly surprised at how quickly i wrote this bit, it practically wrote itself. glad the first part was interesting for a lot of you—i love writing about psych/therapy stuff (despite my complex relationship with 'em), and ofc bkg <3 i honestly don't know where i'm going with this, but it's been fun so far. (0.8k)

navigation. part 1, (you are here), part 3

thankfully—and to the relief of whatever dignity he had left—that interaction was short-lived.

well, it’s mostly because after you blinked at him for what felt like a torturous eternity and said a shaky hello back, he gave you a curt nod as if he wasn’t the one who just initiated the exchange and bolted it out of there without a single glance back.

that bit haunted him for the next few days, reappearing in his consciousness whenever the topic of therapy or anything remotely close to it was broached. he even snapped at kirishima when the redhead asked how his latest session went during one of their evening patrols together. it was a kneejerk reaction, an entirely out-of-proportion, aggressive response that shocked even him, which says a lot.

he should go ahead and text the guy an apology.

eventually, though, that unfortunate powwow slowly faded into the background of his exceptionally busy mind as the days went on. things got so hectic in the agency that he had to postpone his appointment for the week, which—quite frankly—is an upside to this chaos, because he sure wasn’t pumped about discussing his love life, or the lack thereof, with the jarringly knowing middle-aged lady. being able to definitively avoid you and buy you more time to forget about his stupid social blunder is merely the cherry on top.

okay, maybe the incident didn’t actually slip his mind after all.

“…bakugou-san? are you still with me?”

dazed, bakugou squeezes his eyes shut before fluttering them open, and what greets him is the very same lady against the backdrop of her increasingly familiar office, only this time she’s looking more concerned than perceptive.

right. he’s supposed to be in the middle of a session right now.

“yeah, sorry,” he mumbles, shaking his head in an attempt to rid himself of irrelevant thoughts and focus on the matters at hand. therapy is expensive, after all. “i’m here.”

that doesn’t seem to placate the woman who instead prods, much to his chagrin. “you seem out of it today. is there something in your mind that you want us to talk about?”

for a second, he debates caving and just telling her the dumb shit that happened two weeks ago, but then backtracks when it dawns on him how ridiculous everything is. what is he, a prepubescent boy? he died and survived a major war, for fuck’s sake. why is he so hung up on seeming awkward for once in his life?

even hearing it in his head is embarrassing enough.

that settles it, then. his lips are and will remain sealed.

but then his gaze refocuses on his therapist, and the sheer ‘unconditional positive regard’ or whatever the crap is called that she’s radiating becomes so palpable that it just spills out of him.

“i fucked up.”

that makes the lady frown—which, if he thinks about it, is understandable, because he rarely opens up about his failures, let alone this blatantly—although she manages to quickly school her expression into a more neutral one. “can i ask you to expound on it?”

at that, bakugou sighs, because it’s either he just tells the laughable truth or actually cite one of his actual mistakes—which he’s not feeling right now, by the way. or he can expertly maneuver the conversation to another topic, but something tells him there’s no getting out of the current subject. maybe today, there is, but it’ll surely loom over their next sessions indefinitely until either of them revisits it.

he should know. it’s happened to him too many times, he’s lost count.

with this realization, he can only sigh again.

“it’s stupid,” he preempts.

“i’d like to hear it regardless,” comes her classic, supportive response.

and so he does it. talk, that is. it starts off a bit rough—he didn’t know how to even begin without flushing like an idiot, but he managed to get the brief anecdote going. he still ended up blushing anyway—the warmth in his cheeks was undeniable—and if she noticed, she gratefully didn’t point it out. by the time he’s finished with the trivial tale, he’s mildly out of breath, having said everything in one continuous burst.

“i told you,” he spits when she doesn’t say anything for a beat. “it’s stupid.”

“i’d normally ask you to reconsider the adjectives you use for yourself and your experiences, but i think you’ve heard enough of that.”

he snorts. damn straight.

the woman then shoots him a smile, and he has to tamp down the reflex to bristle at an impending attempt to placate him. fortunately, it doesn’t come.

what does, instead, is a question.

one that catches him completely off guard.

“did you find her attractive?”

the fuck, is his first, immediate thought.

but then his normally trusty and acute brain seemingly comes to life and promptly supplies a second one that leaves him frozen and utterly dumbfounded.

yes.

˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated <3 feel free to drop an ask, too—i'd love to chat with you. have a nice day!

tagging. @bunnysaursushii @yawnzzzzzzzz @cholios @kashee-h @iluv-ace @lotuslovers @elarakive @sugurusmoon @napbatata @k0z3me @h0ngh0ngh0ng @honeyoru @yoongiwithglasses @hellokitty-doll @lilsebnem @tetsuukuroo @crangrapel0ver @syrhra | @kalulakunundrum @cheezemanz @gold24fish @lunaryasha

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worstgenerationloser · 1 month ago

Text

,, New Year's kiss! '' (1)

Luffy, Sanji, Zoro, Ace, and Shanks x GN! Reader.

Summary... how would they react to a new years kiss from you?

Contains... a little fluffy, but also mostly foolishness from your favorite characters.

A/N: Might be a bit late for some people, I don't really celebrate things like this but the concept was cute to me.

Monkey D. Luffy

will absolutely not give you a single chance to even get a glimpse of his teeth let alone his mouth, he will be stuffing his face like there's no tomorrow.

as the countdown gets lower and lower with everybody chanting, couples holding onto eachother, you finally get your chance— Luffy manages to finish every last plate of food on the large table Sanji set, and Sanji seems too preoccupied with a special someone.

"Oh, hey—" He will notice you a second too late, and your lips have already met.

cheers erupt and a few more kiss, and Luffy is merely confused.

"What the hell was that for?" He raises a brow, your hand still placed gently on his cheek, Sanji turns around with a new red handprint on his face, and he's flabbergasted.

"WHY WITH LUFFY?!"

you're left embarrassed after everybody in the vicinity turns around, and Luffy doesn't seem too bothered, actually you don't even think he cared that you kissed him...

that's what you would have thought, if he wasn't already wrapping his stretched out arms around you, giggling like a madman.

"No clue why you kissed me, but I don't mind, aslong as it's you."

he's always been an odd boy, anyways.

Black Leg Sanji

he's already right next to you. don't fight me on this.

he's been planning it since the very beginning of this year, waiting so that he could end his year in the absolute best way possible

kissing you for the first and hopefully not the last time.

actually, he's very nervous, but he's made sure that he brushed his teeth and even though he was so nervous he needed a cigarette more than ever, he wouldn't dare taint his mouth with nicotine before kissing your lips, for you are a saint, the very epitome of—

"5...4...3..."

clearing his throat, he gently tilts your head towards him, his eyes softer than they have ever been before, and once you recognize him, he kisses you like you have never been before.

the soft and tender side of him immediately dissolves into nothingness the moment you kiss him back, because his nose blood immediately gushes all over the front of your clothes, and he's paralyzed and falls to the floor with his mouth wide open.

"Ah, what a blessing... The heavens have shown me such mercy and allowed me to experience such divinity from an angel themselves... My dear, I simply must kiss you again..."

he mumbled to himself for the next five minutes, Zoro was already plotting his next batch of insults for the perverted cook, and you were a little disappointed in Sanji for losing himself so soon.

however, when Sanji comes back to himself, he's immediately apologetic and cursing himself for acting a fool.

"Mon amour, I forgot myself for a moment. I assure you this time I will show you how utterly important it is to me that you remain in my heart— may I?"

he, once again, forgets himself and passes out.

Roronoa Zoro

he WILL be drinking sake, and is probably off to the side somewhere while the crew parties. he tries to act nonchalant but he kinda wants to party.

when you break off from the group of partygoers, he gets suspicious, and his face begins to redden. Sanji, the romantic he was, had been blabbering about a New Year's Kiss for the past three days, and Zoro began to wonder if this was it.

his hand grips the bottle a little tighter, and he reluctantly places the bottle down, the countdown growing near.

his hammering heart had not been calmed by the alcohol at all. he thinks it's gonna break out of his ribcage when he hears the crowd growing livelier.

"FIVE SECONDS!"

no, he wasn't gonna stand for this.

he ends up beating you to it, his mouth crashing onto yours one second before fireworks begin to blow up, yells and screams echoed into the sky, and a second before your lips would have found his.

as soon as his lips meet yours, they leave you like a thief in the night.

"Did you just—"

you tried to question him, but he picked up the bottle before you could get another word in, closing his eyes and listening to the sounds around him.

he was absolutely blushing, anybody could notice.

you decide that, this time, you'll be the first to kiss him.

Portgas D. Ace

he's in the middle of an entire crowd, surrounded by what must be 50 people. you have one mission— kiss him right on his lips as soon as the countdown reaches zero.

you manage to weave your way through the crowd of people, and stand close to Ace, but not right next to him so you don't give yourself away and subject yourself to knowing looks. (especially from marco)

unbeknownst to you, he was about to seek you out, so he's rather shocked when he spots you right next to him. well, that makes things much, much easier for him, then!

he cannot stop looking at you, and every time you try to peek at him, he's already staring at you.

the countdown was nearly finished but for a few seconds, and he's already turning to you, but you moved far, far quicker.

you manage to reach his lips just as every firework in existence goes off, and surrounding people laugh loudly into the new year, but moments later they notice your little spectacle with Ace.

he's broken the bottle in his hands with the sheer force of his grip.

you, naturally, with so many eyes on you, run off into the night.

"Come back! I wanna kiss you again!"

he runs after you alarmingly fast, and you know there's no room for any protests or excuses, not that you were going to either way.

your second kiss is much, much more tender... and the tender kisses echo far, far into the new year.

Red-Haired Shanks

Shanks was always one for festivities, and he was certainly not gonna miss out on a new years kiss, almost every year of his life somebody was kissing him, or he was kissing them.

unfortunately for you, he locked onto you sooner than you realized, the moment the party began he was watching anybody who got too close, noting that he should probably distract them somehow, so he could keep your lips on him and him only.

he's a greedy pirate, afterall.

he was calm and collected, laughing heartily all while sipping on his favorite alcohol from the West Blue, though those who were close enough knew he was plotting.

"TEN SECONDS EVERYONE!"

"I'll be back." he would whisper to Beck, but the silver-haired man knew better, shaking his head with a soft chuckle.

he waltzes towards you with his head held high, his single arm itching to wrap around you, and you two manage to meet halfway.

he kisses you as if it meant nothing, and it looked every bit of casual to those who saw— but whoever was watching definitely wasn't feeling what you felt in the form of his lips, they didn't taste him the way you were, and they definitely weren't on the receiving end of his gentle touch, and you knew it wasn't casual.

he pulls away, though his body was reaching for yours as if you were two opposite poles of two different magnets, not wanting to leave you alone just yet.

"Just so you know, I'm really hoping this won't be our last kiss. How about I take you out for dinner?"

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plethorawrites · 2 months ago

Note

Can i please request batboys x reader whos really flirty and comments a lot of inappropriate things?

Of course you can!!! I hope you like it.

Bruce: Wouldn't even blink. But only because he's heard some of the most unhinged ever said on earth and everywhere else in the solar system. Inside? This man is trying his best not to let his eye twitch when you walk behind him at his desk (either at WE or in the cave) and run your hand over his chest, leaning down to whisper in his ear "Why don't you work on something else with those fingers for a while?" He's a sensible man, so most of the time your teasing won't get much of an outward response (aside from his ears turning a bit redder as you nibble on them, trying to provoke a reaction as he types) but you know it's rattling him inside. Just like you know that at a later date he'll remind you of every single time you've teased him, realizing that he was just accumulating valid reasons to torture love you for an entire night with at least 4 breaks in between. One would think you might stop, knowing that every time you said something inappropriate at the wrong time he added it to the running tally in his head and began thinking of new ways to get back at you for it. But you don't.

---

Dick: Does a whole ass double take. He's standing in the kitchen when out of the corner of his eye he sees you sucking some of the frosting you made for some cupcakes off your fingers and to say he nearly falls over would be an understatement. He whips his head back around, nearly tripping over the rug under his feet when he realizes his eyes weren't in fact deceiving him. He'd be flabbergasted when you, with all your adorable qualities like a soft smile and gentle eyes look up at him not breaking eye contact while you swirl your tongue over your own fingers cleaning them. He swallows hard, trying desperately not to make it into something it's not because there's no way you of all people could be purposely teasing him like that. "What is, baby? Mad I'm not sharing?" You ask, scraping the side of the bowl for leftover frosting, holding your fingers out for him. "Want some?" It's then that he realizes you were in fact doing this on purpose. So much for the cupcakes, he thought, crossing the room to lift you onto the counter, much preferring to eat you instead.

---

Jason: Blushes harder than you've ever seen before. I'm talking, redder than his red hood. His eyes widen and immediately dart down to the menu when he feels your foot creeping up the side of his leg at lunch. In public. He clears his throat, trying to remain calm, asking what you want to eat. You just sip on your drink, tilting your head a bit. "Are you on the menu?" You ask, causing another small hitch in his breath. He laughs nervously, swallowing harshly before looking up at you, his cheeks tinted bright red as he struggles to find any words. Your foot creeps higher up his leg until he jumps slightly, his elbow knocking the table making it rattle. "You trying to kill me, doll?" He asks, taking a sip of his water to fill his dry mouth. You just shrug. "Just trying to find a way to keep you at home tonight." You were sick of going to bed alone and if this was what you had to resort to—starting foreplay several hours earlier in the day to tempt him into staying with you—then so be it.

#x reader #headcanon #jason todd #jason todd imagine #jason todd x reader #dick grayson imagine #dc comics #batboys #richard grayson #batfam #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne headcanon #bruce wayne imagine #dick grayson x you #dick grayson x reader #PlethoraWrites

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nightmareweaverz · 3 months ago

Text

What Is Love? (Mr. Gap x GN!Reader)

(Baby don't hurt me, don't hurt me)

This contains spoilers!!

CW: brief mention of murder, one single swear word, romantic gestures but it's all SFW, reader is a serial killer Word count: 1923

Hi, hello, I ended up writing fanfiction for this game after all. And it's for Mr. Gap because I love this dumb void creature obsessed with body parts. He's a love interest in the game, don't boo me, I'm right. Might continue this one later, maybe? Not sure if it's a one shot or not yet.

How long has it been since you’d decided to return to the other world indefinitely? You’re not entirely sure. Time is hard to measure here. You sleep when you are tired and you eat when you’re hungry. You’re at least certain you’ve slept many times since then. Sometimes you wonder whether decades go by as you remain here, among ghosts and monsters.

If you’re entirely honest, it isn’t so bad. You can massacre whoever you please and nobody bats an eye. There’s no need to hide bodies, build alibis, get rid of evidence.

Yet, at the same time, with every new set of hallways and decaying rooms, you begin to sympathize more with the likes of Mr. Stitch and Mr. Machete. You’d once wondered why someone would give away clothes for free or play hairdresser in this world. Now you find yourself yearning for something similar, a purpose or at least a way to pass the time.

At least you aren’t alone. Mr. Gap has become an expected presence in every crevice, hole and gash you gaze into. He’s still a mischievous little jerk, of course, but there is comfort in knowing someone nonthreatening is at your side at all times. And he keeps your boredom at bay sometimes.

One day (or perhaps night), you’re walking through the maze of hallways and rooms of the Other World, searching for a way to entertain yourself. You hope to encounter a new face. Or perhaps an old one. Part of you still hopes you’ll run into Mr. Crawling or Mr. Chopped again, as unlikely as it may be.

Room, after room, after room, you walk. Until, eventually, your legs grow tired and, with a long sigh, you lean against a wall. Mr. Gap’s face appears in a nearby hole.

“What wrong?” he inquires.

“Bored,” you confess.

“Me fun. Give your heart.”

You scoff. “You not fun.”

He shoots you a disgruntled look of disbelief, which begrudgingly makes you snicker. He thinks too highly of himself if he believes constant demands for body parts is considered entertainment. Messing with him on the other hand…

You set your crowbar aside, then curl your palms in the shape of a heart, which you then present to Mr. Gap.

“What you do?”

“This is heart.”

“That is hand.”

“No, this is heart. Above world heart.” You grin mischievously.

He looks entirely unimpressed and partially confused. “That not heart.”

“This heart humans show when lots of like someone.”

He goes quiet for a bit, still staring at your hands like they’re an unsolvable riddle. Then he stares at your face, even more confused. “You lots of like me?”

Oh. You hadn’t considered that’s how the explanation would come across. You were only trying to poke fun at him. How do you talk your way out of this one? Would he get mad if you said no? Would it even be true to say no? You don’t think you’re ready for that type of introspection.

“That…” you search for the right words in the very limited vocabulary of the Other World’s language. “Not… know…” you finally force out.

“Why this heart show?”

Now it’s your turn to grow frustrated with him. “Why you want heart?”

He’s already given you an answer to that question in the past. Because it’s fun. Something you failed to comprehend. Perhaps the same way he failed to comprehend your idea of “like.” So before he can answer, you grab your crowbar and march off.

Unfortunately, the question pops into your mind again as you continue to wander aimlessly. Can someone like you fall in love?

You've taken so many lives, simply because it was fun or convenient or you got sick of their attitude. You've done the same thing in this world.

The hunched over figure of Mr. Crawling pops into your mind. Then, the smiling face of Mr. Chopped. And, eventually, Mr. Gap's annoying grin. Those are people you wouldn't kill. They are people you want to keep around. Perhaps people you would kill for instead, if needed. But does this attachment go deep enough to be called love?

Perhaps you aren't sure of what that feeling is anymore than Mr. Gap and it’s all feigned knowledge.

Your feet are hurting by the time you finally find a proper place to rest. You've lost track of time.

Though your body is tired, your mind remains restless as you set aside your crowbar and sit on the bed. This is a far cry from the entertaining activity you’d hoped to find.

“What wrong?” a familiar voice inquires beneath the sheets. You lift them up to reveal Mr. Gap’ face once again.

How do you even explain your issue to him?

“Feeling not know.”

He goes quiet for a bit. “Teach me lots of like?”

Is he saying he wants you to explain love to him? How do you even begin to do that? Perhaps you can narrow it down to romantic love at least.

“When lots of like, person special. Say nice words. Want to protect. Want to follow. Do special touch. Help person when need.”

The limited vocabulary makes it especially hard to put it into words. You aren't sure how well you'd explain it to another human either.

As expected, Mr. Gap looks puzzled. “Nice words? Special touch?”

He's focusing on the more romantic aspects, it seems. You prop your head against your hand, thinking. “Nice words not have here language. My language have nice words.”

“I see…” he murmurs. “Show special touch?”

You pout at him. “Why?”

“Want to know.”

So he's just curious. Or, knowing him, he heard the word “special” and decided he wanted it to be about him. He does have a bit of a big ego, always taking pride in startling you, often shoving pages of articles about him in your face. You cross your arms and turn your back to him.

“What wrong?”

“You bad. Me need help, you want heart. Me need help, you want hand, you want head, you want leg. Me not show special touch.”

“Me nice,” he says, sounding offended. You don't have to turn around to know he's giving you that astonished look he makes whenever you criticize or baffle him.

You laugh mockingly. “Not. Goodnight.” And with that, you shove down the sheet, blocking him from view. He's always poking fun at you, it's about time he got a taste of his own medicine.

. . .

When you wake up, Mr. Gap is nowhere in sight. It isn't entirely unusual. He has moments when he's off doing his own thing. Deciding to do the same, you take off in search of something interesting to occupy yourself with. Preferably not another mind boggling question.

Hours pass, probably. Residents appear every once in a while, some friendly, some hostile. None of them scare you anymore. You only interact with them to pass the time. Until you eventually come to a stop in a room full of debris and objects from the human world. There, you sit down and begin to search for anything worthwhile. Maybe something to read.

To your luck, you gather several magazines and books. Your arms are full by the time you feel a tremor shake the room. Another earthquake. You waste no time getting out of there with your new haul.

But as you stop to set everything down, you realize you've left your crowbar behind, in the now collapsed room. A few curses rush out under your breath.

“Hello.”

You turn around to find Mr. Gap peeking out of a hole in the wall. “Want attack tool?” He waves the tip of your lost crowbar around. “Take, take.”

“Take? You not want heart?”

“Not want!”

Huh. Maybe he took your criticism yesterday to heart. You grab the crowbar and mutter a “Thank you.”

That wide, unnerving smile of his spreads over his face before he fades off into the darkness. What is he planning now?

For the next few days, he continues to go out of his way to bring you things, take you places and fulfill any requests you might have without demanding any body parts in exchange. Relying on him almost becomes a habit. However, you have a slight suspicion he's not doing this out of the goodness of his heart or because he felt particularly sad about your accusations. These nice gestures must be leading to something.

And surely enough, at some point, during one of your breaks from wandering, he appears before you, looking particularly delighted.

“Me nice. Show special touch.”

How typical. You narrow your eyes at him.

“No?” he asks, the smile fading from his face.

Part of you wants to lecture him on doing all that to prove a point. The other part suspects it won’t do much.

“Okay okay. Me show,” you give in. Maybe this will make him act nicer overall. You can't deny the fact that he's helped you a lot lately.

“Thank you.”

You position yourself directly in front of the hole in the wall and then point at him. “Hand.”

He blinks. “Not give my hand.”

Of course he thinks you want his severed hand.

“Me touch your hand,” you clarify. At that, he finally understands and sticks one of his hands out.

His palm feels cold and damp to the touch when you press yours against it, but his skin is oddly soft. You interlock your fingers. His own remain limp in the air for a moment. Then, upon observing what you're doing, his fingers press down against the back of your palm, mimicking yours. It's not an unpleasant feeling.

Are his nails naturally black or does he paint them, you wonder. The image of Mr. Gap painting his nails makes you snicker internally.

“This one touch,” you explain. “Human person do this with special person.”

He stares at your interlocked hands, intrigued. “You know more?”

Naturally, you do, but you hesitate as the next gesture comes to mind. Your own curiosity is beginning to kick in, ushering you to try it. Will it awaken anything in you?

Driven by that curiosity you say: “Yes.” Then, reach into the opening in the wall with your free hand.

His cheek is just as cold and damp as his hand, perhaps the effect of dwelling inside crevices and hollows all the time. Gently, you tug him towards you and he follows, gaze flickering between your hand and your face. You lean closer as well.

His lips are dry against yours. And you feel no breath from him. Whether it's because he's holding it in or he never breathes to begin with, you aren't sure. You don't linger for long, but something odd stirs your insides for the brief moment you spend kissing him.

How suitable, for someone like you to be exploring love with a sinister void dweller who knows even less about it than you do. Oddly enough, you don't dislike it.

“This lots, lots special,” you explain after you've pulled away and let go of his hand.

He uses his now freed hand to touch his lips. A smug look is slowly overtaking his face. This arrogant little jerk.

“Me special,” he concludes.

“Not,” you argue. “You ask. Me show.”

You have a bit of a staring contest between your glare and his smug grin.

“Me want your heart,” he says finally, still with that smug look.

“Oh, fuck you!”

It's going to take a long time if Mr. Gap is to become anything akin to a lover.

#homicipher #homicipher x reader #mr gap x reader #drabble #fluff #reader insert #mr gap

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kykyonthemoon · 8 months ago

Text

Bad Luck Streak

After losing to him for the tenth time in kitty cards, you decide to throw a tantrum.

ಇ. Character x Reader/MC

Included parts in order: Rafayel - Xavier - Zayne - Caleb

ಇ. Tags & warnings: a little spicy, 16+, MDNI, fluff, short and sweet, making out, fluff, domestic fluff, established relationship, some jealousy (from Zayne), MC being a baby (tbh I would too if I lose too many kitty cards games).

ಇ. Word count: 4k5

ಇ. Based on an anonymous request.

ಇ. Masterlist ♡ Request a fic

Rafayel

“If you post on your account right now that I, Rafayel, am the most handsome and best kitty cards player, I will let you win this match.”

Rafayel's voice rang out in the room, from across the table. You frowned and said it clearly again, word by word:

"Not. A. Single. Chance!”

“Such a pity.” He spoke as if he was singing. Then, with a delicate yet merciless gesture, he set down his kitty card in the proper position of the purple cup. You quickly reached out to cover the mouth of the cup, but it was too late.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

A “meow” sounded. The cat was the same color as the cup. And it was a six-point.

Time seemed to pass very slowly. Your lips formed an "A" and "O" shape, then the remaining cards in your hand were tossed into the air, falling all around.

Rafayel's jubilant laughter echoed across the room. He stood up, dancing in the rain from your losing cards. He even made a song:

“Rafayel! Rafayel! Who is the most handsome and talented kitty cards player? It's Rafayel!”

He paused, his index finger and thumb creating a "V" and resting on his chin. He looked at you with a sarcastic expression.

"I offered you the chance to win. It's unfortunate you didn't accept it."

“Will you stop?”

You furiously gazed up at him.You had just lost the tenth game. Even if you had a nightmare, you would not have expected to be that unfortunate.

But seeing your sour expression, Rafayel became even happier. He constantly teased you, claiming that you had just lost to a kitty card master. You clenched your teeth.

“You cheated! There was definitely cheating!”

“Is that so? Then why couldn't you catch me?" He continued to laugh. “Without proof, you must have lost because of such poor skills.”

"That's enough, Rafayel!" You stood up, irritated. To his amazement, you grabbed his collar and hauled him out. You pushed him hard into the vacant corridor. “Go home! I don't want to see that arrogant face of yours anymore!”

"Eh!" Rafayel attempted to run inside, but you swiftly shut the door. You heard him beating on the door outside: “But it's already late. There are no more trains or buses! Are you really going to leave me out here all by myself?”

You opened the door a crack, threw his phone into his hands and said:

“Call a taxi and go home!”

Then, you slammed the door again. Rafayel continued to make noise outside: “Hey! How could you bear to let me go home alone with a stranger, in the middle of the night like this?!”

But you gave no answer. You let Rafayel boo and protest outside. You put on headphones, deliberately turned on the music loudly and headed into the bathroom to get ready for bed.

After a time, you approached the door. You could still see Rafayel on the CCTV screen. He stopped screaming and crouched with his head down in the corridor just across from your main entrance. He looked miserable. The hubris of victory had simply vanished from him. You sighed, knowing that you had lost since your compassion decided to speak up.

You opened the door. Rafayel lifted his head and gazed at you, perplexed like a lost puppy. It was very late and he had yet to leave. You were about to tell him to go home when he suddenly ran towards you, arms spread, seeking to hug you.

Instinctively, you moved aside. Rafayel was running and could not stop in time and rushed straight inside. Both surprised and not paying attention to the steps connecting the main door and your living room, he fell.

He appeared both pathetic and humorous. You did not know how to react anymore. You closed the door, trying to suppress your laughter while Rafayel made a fuss again. He did not even bother to get up, but lay down on the floor to throw a tantrum.

“Miss Bodyguard is bullying me! Come out and see! Oh, good neighbors! She kicked me out of the house. She even made me collapse on the floor! It's all because I'm so attractive and better than her at kitty cards that she hates me!"

"You want to go out there again, don't you?" You spoke quietly. You felt more amused than upset at him. You approached Rafayel, leaning down slightly to see how he was. “Hmm. You still can shout out so loud. It means that you're okay, right?”

You poked his body with your finger. Rafayel struggled like a fish out of water. Then, he suddenly grabbed your wrist and pulled you down to the floor with him.

“Ouch!”

You yelled aloud. In the blink of an eye, you were lying in his lap on the floor.

“Rafayel, what are you doing? Let me go!”

He smiled triumphantly, once more.

“Be still. I'm hurt so much... right here.”

Rafayel pointed to his chest, which was rising and falling with each heavy breath. You could hear a chaotic heartbeat there. He said again:

“Why do you want to chase me away? Why do you have to say that you don't want to see me anymore? It's just kitty cards! If you like winning that much, I'll let you win all the time!”

“I don't need you to let me win.” You said. With your competitive nature, you wanted to defeat him in a fair and righteous manner while also enjoying his sullen face. "If you give in, there's no fun anymore."

Since you could not stay on the ground like this forever, you attempted to get up. But Rafayel would not let you go. He grimaced while holding you above him.

“My whole body hurts so much! My head hurts too! Compensation. I request compensation!”

You supported your body with my elbows on his chest. It was never easy to coax this fish. You just had to use your usual tricks.

"Alright. Here comes compensation.”

You giggled, then leaned down and kissed him for a long while. The delicate kiss on his lips gradually melted down his neck, then, the chest, turning into crimson flower petals - the way you left your imprint on him. Rafayel lay beneath you and struggled a little, but held you even more tightly. Perhaps you must admit that you had no intention of letting him go home alone that night.

Xavier

You worriedly looked up at Xavier, who sat across from you. His face was hidden in the pile of cards in his hand, displaying just his intensely concentrated eyes. You clutched the very last card tightly in your hands. Just one more step, as long as he spared the last cup, you would win.

Yet things did not always go your way. Xavier picked up a card and placed it in the cup. It transformed into the cat with number six, earning double the points.

"Another win for me."

His words, so gentle, but it cut your heart for the tenth time. You had lost ten games in a row in just one evening.

“You… YOU!!!”

Anger choked in your throat. You grit your teeth. How could this be? Apparently you were the one teaching Xavier how to play kitty cards, yet he certainly outperformed you.

Unable to accept this, you became enraged and took out your frustration on the cats in the gaming kit. The cups tipped over, and the virtual cats leaped out. They cautiously seeked shelter on Xavier's arms and shoulders. You growled:

"We. Are. Done. Playing!!!"

You stormed into the bedroom like a hurricane. Ignoring the kittens, ignoring Xavier. You buried yourself on the bed and struggled for quite some time.

“AAAAAAARRRGGGHHHHH!!!”

Perhaps Xavier overheard you yell. However, he did not come in to comfort you as usual. This made you feel even worse. You disliked the sensation of losing.

You returned to the living room after a lengthy period of lying in bed and felt considerably calmer. There was no one around. You merely discovered a beautifully packed kitty cards kit on the coffee table. You huffed with annoyance. Xavier must have left without saying goodbye. Was it your juvenile reaction to losing that offended him?

You felt humiliated and angry with yourself. You must have upset him. It was only a few card games, but you let it impact both of you. Still you could not accept the fact that you had lost. He could have let you win one match, just one match, right? Finally, you decided to make yourself a cup of hot milk and go to bed early.

A bit later, the doorbell rang. As you went closer to the surveillance camera, you saw Xavier standing outside. However, there was something odd. You had to rub your eyes many times to ensure it was him.

You quickly opened the door. Xavier stood there, his light hair adorned with a pair of white bunny ears with black tips swinging back and forth. He was dressed in a white and blue suit, his hands gloved, and he was holding them up like a cute bunny who had just lost his way to your house.

“X-Xavier?!” You were taken aback, but you had to admit that you admired the way he looked.

"Can… Can I come inside?"

Xavier looked around with embarrassment. What if he was caught like this? Thinking about it, you swiftly drew him inside. Only you were permitted to adore this aspect of his.

You shut the door and followed Xavier into the living room. Yet you could not tear your gaze away from the round white rabbit tail waving behind him. You felt guilty because you wanted to reach out and touch it.

“Why are you dressed like this? In the middle of the night?” You asked. Perhaps you were so furious and fatigued that your imagination conjured up this scenario.

“I'm here to be your bunny butler.” Xavier spoke up. “Since last time you said you would like a bunny butler…”

Xavier left his sentence incomplete. He carefully examined your reaction before saying, "I hope you like it."

“Ah, erm…” You coughed. “Are you doing this because of the kitty cards incident earlier?”

Xavier nodded slightly. Oh Lord! His dangling bunny ears looked so adorable beyond imagination! You just wanted to pull him down and touch them a lot.

Seeming to know what you were thinking, Xavier sat down beside you. You tried to keep your face stoic as if you could not care less, and said:

“You don't need to do that.”

“Do you really not want your bunny butler?”

As he drew in closer, you felt your pulse skip a beat and your throat dry. You responded:

“Eh… um… I mean… You didn't have to go to this extent…”

Xavier sighed sadly. He stretched out and scratched the rabbit ears on his head, which made you want to touch them more.

“If you don't like it… I'll leave…”

"Wait!" You stopped him. Soon your hand was holding a bunny ear on his head. “Oh, hey…”

The smooth cotton layer calmed your rage. You proceeded to caress the rabbit's ear with one hand before grabbing another one with the other. Xavier patiently resided quietly as you played around. He breathed gently and steadily, and his cheeks were slightly rosy.

“I thought you didn't like it.” He mentioned.

“When did I ever say that?”

“You do like fluffy things, don't you?”

Your giggles rang out. “Yeah. I also like an obedient bunny that knows he should call me master."

Xavier took a short peek at you before turning away. His face lit up even more. He mumbled: “Okay… If this makes you feel better… My Lady….”

You gently lifted Xavier's chin so he could no longer avoid your gaze. Then you grinned with satisfaction:

"Very good. But I still haven't completely forgiven."

“So, what do you want the bunny butler to do for you, My Lady?”

“Let's see…” You pretended to think, then your hand quickly went behind Xavier's back and touched his bunny tail. He dodged intuitively in an instance.

“This… You cannot touch…”

“Why not?”

You frowned and tried again, then again... You kept attacking Xavier's back with both hands, and he kept avoiding you. In the end, you suddenly leaned close to him.

"Got it!" You grasped the rabbit tail behind Xavier as you hugged him and sat entirely on his lap. His breath wafted across your shoulders and neck. You also blushed.

“My Lady, are you content now?” He asked with an expression like he had just been bullied. Then, without waiting for your response, he gripped your hips firmly and forced you closer to his body.

Your heart was racing pretty fast. You could not take your eyes off Xavier. He was very close. So close. His lips brushed the tip of your nose, slightly parted and whispered:

“Are you no longer mad at me?”

You nodded slightly, since you were helpless to say anything else in this situation.

“So have you had enough of playing, My Lady?”

Another nod. Xavier seemed satisfied. He said:

“Then it's my turn.”

"Huh?"

Before you could grasp what was actually going on, Xavier put a hand behind your neck and forced you into him. His lips gently parted yours, and you tasted the nectar on the tip of his tongue. You felt dizzy, to the point you entrusted your entire body weight on Xavier. Even though it was him who was wearing the bunny costume, why did it feel like you were the prey?

Zayne

“Can't you let me win for just once, Zayne?”

You frowned at him. With a serene appearance, Zayne put down his final card and won the entire game.

“If I give in to you, how will you improve?”

You bit your bottom lip firmly. Your hand dropped the cards, and your eyes were crimson as if you were going to cry. It was the tenth game you had lost to him. Such an impossible mission to beat Doctor Zayne since he constantly blocked his opponent's moves like that.

“You… Foul play!” You shrieked, catching the attention of a few pairs playing kitty cards nearby.

“That is called strategy, not foul play. Foul play is when you cheated to peek at my cards..."

“La la la! I won't listen to you anymore!” You covered your ears tightly. “You're always so cruel! Look at the pile of support cards you have! You just have to back me into a corner like this!”

Even when the game ended, in Zayne's hand was still a stack of assist cards he had gathered from the beginning of the game to attack you. He seemed to have every type of support card in a kitty deck. How come he was so lucky? Every card he drew was a fatal card. He left you no chance to win.

Despite your outraged expression, Zayne remained remarkably calm. He put the cards back in the kit and cleaned up the mess on your side of the table. He replied:

“This game only has two players. If I don't attack you, then who?"

“I'm not talking to you anymore.” You rose up and marched away in anger. Zayne grinned at your childishness and continued with cleaning up the cards.

That day, a special event was held at Akso Hospital. Patients, relatives and staff were all excited to play kitty cards. Small tables were neatly set up around the hall and the main garden for each pair of players to participate. Everyone was very happy, except for you. No one would be, if they lost ten consecutive games of kitty cards.

After a time, with no indication of you returning, Zayne began looking about. He knew your childish and competitive nature, as well as the way to comfort you. Yet it was a different time. He had not expected to discover you leaving him to play cards with someone else.

You sat at another table with Doctor Greyson. You just won a high-scoring game and chose to celebrate by howling and swaying your body left and right. Then you asked Greyson:

“Let's play one more round, shall we?”

Greyson had barely nodded when he felt a strong cold. He was shivering in the nice warm bright weather.

“Ah… um… Somehow… I-I feel so cold… P-Please... excuse me…”

Having stated so, the doctor rose up, hunched, and proceeded into the hall, where the nurse, Yvonne, appeared to inquire as to why he had suddenly felt sick.

You sighed because your victory did not last long. But right after that, you found someone else who was also looking for a partner to play cards with. It was an elderly cardiology patient. You warmly encouraged the elderly man to sit on the chair. But after only a few minutes, before you could even play your first card, the old man sneezed loudly and said it was too windy out here and he felt cold. He then requested the nurse to take him inside.

How strange! You felt no cold at all, and it was not that windy here. You glanced around for other folks to play with. Since you had lost so much, you felt compelled to win many more games to compensate for the resentment in your heart. But another person came, then another, and another... Whether young or old, sick or healthy, everyone felt a shiver run down their spines as soon as they sat in the chair opposite yours. Was this table haunted or something?

You decided to change positions and see what happened. But, as you rose up and prepared to sit on that dreadful chair, you noticed a familiar figure from a table in the garden's most secluded corner. There was just one person seated there: Doctor Zayne.

"What are you doing?" You were outraged and dashed to inquire. It was not a work day for Zayne, and his casual dress added to his laid-back demeanor. He calmly replied:

“I'm waiting for someone to come play kitty cards with me.”

“It's not what I meant! Did you just use Evol on the people who came to my table?”

Zayne put his hands in his pockets, indifferently:

“A person may feel cold because their body is not feeling well. It's best for them to go inside for a check-up."

“That's it! Obviously you did something on purpose!” You muttered a few words of bitterness under your breath. Surely he had pulled a trick to ensure that no one would play cards with you again, and that you would not be able to taste glorious victory. You definitely must figure this out.

“Doctor Zayne, show me your hands.” You made it sound like a demand.

"Why?"

“I want to check your hands.” If Zayne had just used his Evol, his hands would still have ice on.

Of course, Zayne would never let you catch him that easily.His hands remained securely tucked in his coat pockets. Losing patience, you grabbed him with both hands.

“He who excuses himself, accuses himself! If you're innocent, why don't you prove it?"

Zayne did not respond. You used all of your might to take his hand from his pocket. He gazed at you briefly, a mischievous smirk on his lips. Then he took out his hand and spread it in front of you.

"Here. Don't mess around anymore.”

You carefully examined Zayne's hand. Nothing. The palm of his hand was just cool, not freezing. You huffed loudly. Unwilling to accept this defeat again, you quickly pulled up his sleeve. In the sunlight, little snowflakes emerged, dazzling precisely like your triumphant smile.

“Ah ha! Here it is! Doctor Zayne, I've caught you red-handed!”

Being exposed like that, Zayne did not flinch. He looked up at you and then, as quick as lightning, the hand you clutched tightly turned the tables. He grabbed yours and pulled you down into his arms.

"Be still. You're too loud.” Doctor Zayne grasped your waist and even placed his finger on your mouth to remind you to be quiet. Your chest rumbled again, especially at the notion of someone catching you both here, in this position.

Fortunately, the area was primarily covered with decorative plants. One must look attentively for the existence of a secret kitty cards table in this corner of the garden.

“Doctor Zayne,” you whispered. “You are too much! You scared away everyone who wanted to play cards with me. Now I can't win anymore."

Zayne gently nudged his head at yours. He seemed miserable.

“Do you like playing kitty cards with other people more than with me?”

You lifted your hand to massage your forehead. "Hmm. Of course. Because whenever I play with you, I always lose."

Zayne's eyebrows furrowed. He said: “Understood. Then I'll just make everyone else stay away from your table.”

"Eh! Doctor Zayne! I didn't expect you to be that unfair!”

Zayne smirked. His hand raised your face, causing you to stare into his eyes. “Be still. Do you want others to find us here?”

You turned red, but remained defiant. "What's the matter? Are you afraid that others will find out you're bullying me here?”

"Maybe."

He answered idly. Why did you suspect he was up to something? He leaned so near to you that you could detect a scent of mint candy on his breath. A soft kiss landed on your cheek.

“I intend to keep you here for myself. So that no one else can see your cute reactions when playing kitty cards anymore…”

He began kissing you, gently then fiercely. His kisses were as sweet as candy, cool as summer ice cream. His arm tightened around your waist, keeping your back straight. Your feet were lifted off the grass. Between kisses that melted the ice on Zayne's hands, he whispered:

“No one else, but me.”

Caleb

Never once had Caleb given in to you in kitty cards games. Every time you played cards with him, it ended in arguments, yelling, and even tears when you ran to tell Grandma about it.

And then, that trick no longer worked, since you had moved out and grown up. Caleb would not be swayed by a few tears from you.

“Don't do that anymore.” He spoke from the opposite side. “It won't work now.”

He proceeded calmly. You snorted. At this pace, you would lose. You did not want to do housework for the following week when you both returned home to see Grandma. Every time you played kitty cards with him, housework was what you bet on. The loser must do all the chores for the winner. This time, Caleb came to Linkon to pick you up before you both came home the day after.

“You are truly an evil person.” You murmured. His phone rang at the time, and while he was answering it, you swiftly took his green kitty and swapped it with another cup.

"Hey!" He grabbed your hand, hastily murmured something on the phone about calling back later, and hung up. He stared at you, clicking his tongue. “Cheater!”

"I did not cheat!" You lied. “This cat… wanted to climb out of the cup. I was just helping you catch it."

You attempted to draw your hand back. The cat returned to its previous place. Caleb still did not let you go. He shook his head:

“Cheating is cheating. If Gran knows about this, she would be so sad!”

“No way…” You pouted.

“I saw it with my own eyes. Don't deny it. You've lost this game.”

Caleb declared. Of course, you would never accept this result.

"I'm not lost! It's my turn! I haven't lost yet!”

He dropped the cards and placed them on the table. “Whoever cheats loses. Stop playing. We have an early train to catch tomorrow. It's over. A week of housework for you!”

Caleb grinned with victory. He rose up and attempted to leave. But you would not let him have it. You surged forward, flinging yourself onto his back. You pinched his ear and shouted:

"No! Play again! One more round! I have to restore my honor!”

Caleb fought but was unable to shove you down. He spoke:

"You've lost ten games already. Even if you keep playing, you won't be able to beat me, pip-squeak!"

"No! I refuse to lose! Let's play again!”

You kicked your legs hard, causing Caleb to lose his balance. Then you both sank into the comfy sofa. You could hear him mutter, his words garbled since his face was crushed against the mattress.

"Oh dear! What did you eat to become this heavy, pip-squeak?!”

You got up, but because he called you fat and you wanted vengeance for those ten lost games of kitty cards, you refused to get down and simply lay on his body.

“Get off, pip-squeak?”

"Nope. Unless you're willing to play ten more games, I won't come down."

Caleb smiled and sighed, powerless before your stubbornness. Finally, he turned so that you both lay on your sides on the sofa. Your back rested against his chest. Suddenly, you felt quite hot in the room.

“Are you confident that you will beat me in the next ten games?” Caleb asked. His breath brushed your hair and nape, leaving you ticklish.

"Yeah…" You responded quietly. Caleb placed one hand on your tummy and softly pressed, which startled you.

“But I don't want to play anymore.”

"Why not?"

Caleb did not respond, instead pressing his body further closer to you. It seemed you already had the answer. You looked at the virtual cats blinking on the table. They were waiting for both of you to start a new game. It was fine to let them wait a little longer.

“Pip-squeak, you know why.”

Your cheeks felt heated. You gently turned around and adjusted your posture to lie straight on the sofa, looking at him for a moment.

“Know what?”

Caleb smiled at you while you attempted to be innocent. He replied:

“Someone pretends she doesn't know anything. You just cheated. I haven't punished you yet."

“I don't remember anything.”

“When we were little, you made a rule that anyone who cheated would be punished, right?” Caleb reminded you of it.

“S-So… what kind of punishment do you want?” You nervously gazed up at him, waiting.

“How about this?…”

Caleb whispered. Then he began tickling you. You fought and yelled. You almost fell to the ground, but he caught you and drew you closer. You rested your hands on his chest to maintain balance.

“Okay… Is that it? Now… Can we continue playing?” You gasped for air as you gazed down at Caleb. He shook his head.

"Not yet. It was simply the beginning.”

You were about to protest when Caleb quickly locked your lips. The virtual kitties over there must wait a little longer then.

699 notes · View notes

arc-misadventures · 30 days ago

Text

What Are You Doing Here?

A thin. twig of a man was walking the streets of, Mantle. A grey hood covered his head as he tried to remain unseen. He was here on a mission, a very important mission. One that if he was caught would cause untold amount of suffering, and damage. But, he would be willing to fight to complete his mission. And, nothing was going to stop him!

Except for a six foot six, blond hair specialist grabbing him by the back of his hoodie holding him aloft as he hopelessly kicked his feet in the air.

: GRAHH?! Let go of me go!

: Only if you explain what you're doing here?

: I-It doesn't concern you, Jaune!

Jaune Arc, on another one of his patrols in, Mantle after the ballot boxes were delivered to another community halls for the upcoming vote. But, his patrol was brought to an abrupt detour when he stumbled upon a most unexpected sight.

The sole male heir of the, Schnee family. Whitely Schnee out on a leisurely stroll.

Jaune: Doesn't concern me?! Oh yeah, Winter's gonna love the fact I told her: 'Hey, Winter I saw your little brother down in, Mantle! I don't know what he was doing, I just left him alone!'

Jaune: Do you have any idea what she would do to me if I told her that, Whit?!

Whitely: Then don't tell her!

Jaune: Are you trying to get me killed?!

Whitely: This doesn't concern you! Let me go!

Jaune: Whitely... Tell me what's happening, or I'll tell, Willow you're down here...

Whitely stopped struggling in, Jaune's grasp, his whole body going limp as he comprehended his threat.

Whitely: Okay... Okay, I'll tell you why I'm here. But, please... don't tell my mom...

Jaune: Smart lad.

Jaune dropped, Whitely who straightened out his clothes before turning to face, Jaune keeping his hoodie over his head to hid his identity, and his highly recognizable heir from any passers by.

Whitely: I'm here, because I am going to a rally that's being held today.

Jaune: A rally? One of the political rallies?

Whitely: Y-Yeah...

Jaune: Who's rally? The election is in a two days, there's five rally's happening right now. Who are you making your way to, Whit?

Whitely: ...

Whitely: I'm... I'm heading to, Robyn Hill's rally...

Jaune: Robyn Hill?! Why the hell are you going there?

Whitely: I-I have my reasons...

Jaune: You better tell me, because seriously, Whit... I can think of many reasons for why you wouldn't go there, but I can't think of a single reason why you would want to go there.

Whitely: Oh yeah?! What reasons could you think of!

Jaune: You're, Jacques Schnee's son, you're the heir to the Schnee Dust Company, and it's fortune. You're part of the uppermost class of the, Atlasian Elite, so why are you of all people, even associating with the 'lower class.'

Whitely: You know I'm nothing like my father! And, while the others are true... B-But, I don't think I'm better than everyone else!

Jaune: Just richer than them?

Whitely: Okay... t-that's... that's a fact. You can't use that against me!

Jaune: Yes, I can, and will.

Whitely: Okay, I know it may seem that I don't care for the 'common folk,' but Mom, and I are trying to make things better for people. Higher wages, better medical, dental, family, and a slew of other benefits! We're becoming less of a monopoly! We're doing so many things that is helping all of, Atlas, and Mantle!

Jaune: Yes, you told me that when I was over for dinner with you, and Willow the other day. And, that's all well, and good, but why are you going to one of, Robyn's Hill's rally?

Whitely: I'm not going to tell you anything!

Whitely stared defiantly at, Jaune. His stance solid, and defiant to the world, and the threat a seasoned, Specialist could offer to an auraless civilian. But, Jaune would teach him the futility of his defiance.

Jaune pulled out his scroll, and hit a few buttons, and hold it in front of, Whitely, his finger hovering over a button.

Jaune: You tell me why you're going to a rally for, Robyn Hill right now, or I swear I'll call your sister here right now.

Whitely: You think I'm scared of, Weiss?!

Jaune: Who said I was going to call, Weiss?

Whitely: ...?!

Whitely: Y-You wouldn't... You wouldn't dare...?

Jaune: Whit... the question you should be asking isn't whether, or not I'll do it. But, how fast, Winter will get down here to pick you up.

Whitely's eyes bugged out as he dry swallowed as he took in the essence of, Jaune's threat.

Whitely: ...

Whitely: I-I... I'm... I'm going to...

Jaune: Going to what?

Whitely: I'mgoingto,RobynHill'srallytoseemycrush!

Jaune: ...

Jaune: Beg pardon?

Whitely: I'm going to, Robyn Hill's rally to see my crush...

Jaune: You're crush... You have a crush...?

Jaune: It better not be, Robyn Hill, because she's claimed me...

Whitely: What, no It's not her...? Wait, I thought, Winter claimed you?

Jaune: I'm stuck between a love triangle that the two of them will fight tooth, and nail over who gets to have me.

Whitely: Okay...?

Jaune: If it's not, Robyn then who is it?

Whitely: I-I'll tell you who it is... but, only if you take me there to see her!

Jaune: ...

Jaune: Okay... but we're going to get you a took first. You look like a hoodlum looking like that.

Whitely: I'm not a hoodlum!

Jaune: That's a shame, you'd have more personality if you were...

Whitely: Hey!

~~~

Now the pair were at, Robyn Hill's rally the last one being held before the election. Whitely now had a nice burnt red took on his head, hiding his easily identifiable snow white hair.

Jaune was keeping his eye's on, Whitely, waiting for him to react to anything, or more importantly who was the one, Whitely had a crush on. And, the way he watched, Whitely's body stiffen, and his breath left him, and the way his cheeks became red. He knew who ever they were had appeared. And, he was most surprised for who it was,

Jaune: Wait... Fiona... Fiona Thyme?! That's your secret crush?!

Whitely: SHHHH! Don't say that out loud!

Jaune: Okay... I have so many questions... But, first off... she's twenty four, Fiona's at lease a decade older than you.

Whitely: What? I'm not fourteen, I'm seventeen years old, Jaune!

Jaune: ...

Jaune's eyes blink in bewilderment as he looked at, Whitely. Jaune proceed to grab, Whitely by the scuff of, Whitely's hoodie, and lifted him up into the air with one hand. Jaune held out his arm straight, and shook, Whitely in the air, watching his feet dangle effortlessly in the air before setting him down.

Jaune: ...

Jaune: Okay... We're changing your diet: More meats, and more protein, as well as getting you on a exercise regime. We need to put more meat on you, cause otherwise people will think you're a legal shouta.

Whitely: ...

Whitely: Okay...

Whitely: But, what about you! Winter's twenty five years old! And, you're...

Jaune: Nineteen.

Whitely: Nineteen! That's a six year difference!

Jaune: Compared to a seven year difference... No... Okay, look... It's not that bad, but it's not that good either. I just thought you were younger then you actually are. Seriously, we need to put some meat on your chicken legs.

Whitely: Shut up...

Jaune: But, why do you like her? I mean... You like, Fiona? I thought you didn't like faunas, she's a sheep faunas.

Whitely: I didn't... N-Not anymore... That was just my father's influence, I'm not like that anymore. I just saw her from a distance, and... I just fell for her... I think she's beautiful.

Jaune: Love at first sight...?

Whitely: Y-Yeah... you could say that...

Jaune: Oh gods...

Jaune: Have you talked to her?

Whitely: N-No... She's a, Huntress, a Happy Huntress, and a faunas. And, I'm...

Jaune: Whitely Schnee... son of the enemy of all faunas... Jacques Schnee...?

Whitely: Yeah...

Jaune: Damn... The decks already stacked against you, and you're not even at the table...

Whitely: She'd probably spit in my face just walking over to her.

Jaune: Give her some credit, Whit. Fiona's not like that, if you were an ass she'd punch you in the face. She's too classy to spit in your face.

Whitely: H-How do you know that... H-Have you talked to her?!

Jaune: A few times.

Whitely: Can you introduce me to her?!

Jaune: ...

Jaune: Haaa...

Jaune: Please don't make me regret doing this, Whit...

Whitely: Yes! Thank you big bro!

Jaune: Don't you call me that!

Whitely: Sorry...

~~~

Robyn: Hello, Specialist Arc... What brings you here this day, General Ironwood send you to complain about my running for election again.

Jaune: Drop the act, Robyn. Whit knows that I'm the prize in your competition thingy against, Winter.

Robyn: Oh... wait, who is that, Whit fellow?

Jaune: Just a friend I'm wingmanning for...

Robyn: Okay...? And, this, Whit fellow... has a thing for, Fiona...?

Jaune: Yeah, it's a love of first sight, kind of thing...

Robyn: Seriously...?

Jaune: It's also the first crush for the kid... teenager...Give him some slack, okay?

Robyn: Why are you doing this?

Jaune: ...

Jaune: I'm a romantic?

Robyn: You don't sound so sure about that...

Jaune: I've somehow managed to snagged three extremely hot badass warrior babes by being myself; I'm not sure about a lot of things!

Robyn: Three... Is there another woman I should be worried about?

Jaune: No. She's dead...

Robyn: Oh... I-I'm sorry, Jaune. I didn't mean...

Jaune: Stop, I would prefer not to talk about it. Let's just watch, Whit, and see how he'll do.

Robyn: O-Okay...

~~~

Walking up to, Fiona Thyme, Whitely was having a panic attack in his head. He was a seventeen year old kid, talking with his first crush, who happened to by a, Happy Huntress, and a faunas. He was the enemy of everything she no doubt stood for, because of his fathering was, Jacques Schnee.

But, like, Jaune told him: "You'll regret not telling her more than you will be for putting your foot in your mouth."

He just hopped he wouldn't put his foot so deep in his mouth.

~~~

Whitely: H-Hi!

Fiona stopped to looked at the kid standing before her, an inch smaller than her. He wore a a grey hoodie, and grey blue jeans, black sneakers, and a burnt red took. Fiona thought this... civilian looked nice, her certainly had nice icy blue eyes, but why is he talking to her, Robyn was right there after all?

Fiona: Hello...?

Whitely: Hi! Uhhh...? M-My name is...

Whitely's eyes darted around nervously, if he introduced himself as who he pretending to be, Whit, she'd probably ignore him. But, if he suddenly popped it on her that he was actually, Whitely Schnee, like he was embarrassed to be seen with her, because who he was. Fiona would probably, rightfully so, deck him in the face.

Whitely: My name is, Whitely... Whitely Schnee...

Whitely pulled off his burnt red took, showing off his snow white hair. He gave, Fiona a nervous smile, meanwhile, Fiona was staring at him wild eyed. Fiona's voice escaped her as her mind struggled to comprehend what it was standing before her.

Robyn: Wait, hold on...?! That's, Whitely Schnee?!

Jaune: Yes, and quiet!

Fiona: Whitely Schnee... Son of, Jacques Schnee...?

Whitely: Y-Yeah... That's me...

Fiona: Okay... W-What are you doing down here...?

Whitely: Down here in, Mantle? Did you not expect someone like me to be here?

Fiona: Uhh... yeah... For several reasons that.

Whitely: W-What reasons?

Fiona: You're, Whitely Schnee, son of, Jacques Schnee...

Whitely: That I am......

Fiona: What's a rich boy doing down her in the slums?

Whitely: This...? There are no slums in, Mantle?

Fiona: And, why are you an, faunas racist talking to a faunas?

Whitely: ...

Jaune: Oh shit...

Robyn: Wait... you said, wingmanning... Does, Whitely...?!

Whitely: I... I may have had such opinions... But, they weren't solely baseless, and my idea...

Fiona: Baseless? What do you mean by that?

Whitely: My father was the enemy of all faunas... And, he made faunas his enemy, blamed them for a lot of his problems, and he even forced a lot of these problems he caused on them. So, I can understand their hate for me, and my father. And, I can understand why they all think that I'm a carbon copy of my father. But, I'm not my father!

Fiona: And, why do you say that?

Whitely: I did agree with my father, and his opinions of faunas. Not all faunas, just those of the, White Fang...

Fiona: The White Fang?

Whitely: You probably heard how they were 'freedom fighters,' fighting for faunas rights... You tell me to believe that is the truth when your mother's shielding your eyes so you don't see the dismembered body of your cousin. You didn't see your father absolutely loose it when one of the dust shipments got attacked by the, White Fang, and he took out his anger on your mother...

Whitely: I don't hate the faunas, Fiona. I hate the, White Fang, because of what they did to me, and my family... My father... Jacques would hate you for being a faunas. Me...? I'm... I'm not my father. Like he would ever have a crush on a cute sheep faunas anyway...

Fiona looked at, Whitely. She was feeling down, she was judging him based on his linage, often something others did to her because she was a faunas. He couldn't control being, Jacques Schnee's son, but he did control who he choose to become. Besides, it's like he said: It's not like, Jacques Schnee would ever have a crush on a cute sheep...?!

Fiona: W-W-Wait?! 'A crush on a cute sheep faunas?!' Do you have a crush on me?!

Whitely: AHH?! Oh shit... I didn't mean to tell you that?!

Robyn: Holy shit?!

May: The, Schnee kid has a crush on, Fiona?!

Joanna: And, is, Fiona blushing?!

Jaune: Well this isn't how you'd want things to go... but, I did worse, so...?

Fiona: YOU DO?!

Whitely: I snuck into one of, Robyn Hill's political rallies, and saw you! And, I fell for you the moment I laid my eyes upon you!

Fiona: Love at first sight?!

Jaune: Going for broke eh, Whit?

Robyn: Somebody please tell me you're recording this?!

Joanna: From the moment I came here!

May: I've been taking photos!

Whitely: S-So, Fiona Thyme! Will you please go out with me?!

Fiona: O-O-Oh... W-Well... I'm too old for you... I mean, a thirteen year old going out with a twenty three year old... That's...?

Whitely: Seventeen!

Fiona: W-What?

Whitely: I'm seventeen years old... Jaune's going to put me on an excursive regium, and a new diet to bulk up so I stop looking like... like a kid... S-So, it's just a six year difference... So, c-could we...?

Fiona: ...

Fiona: D-Do you want to go on a date now...? Cause... I'm going to be busy the next few days... election stuff... So, I don't know if I'll be able to...

Whitely: Yes!

Fiona: Eep?!

Whitely: Sorry, I meant to say, yes.

Fiona: That's great!

Whitely: But, uhh... I don't know any of the restaurants around here... How about you take us to a nice one, where we can chat, and get to know one another better. My treat.

Fiona: I'd like that. Come on, Whitely.

Whitely: J-Just call me, Whit. Otherwise people might...

Fiona: Okay, Whit.

Fiona waited by the door as, Whitely put on his took, and ran up to, Fiona. the pair had matching smiles, and small blushes on their faces as they left on their date.

From the distance the group of, Huntresses, and the Specialist all cooed from the corner as they watched them leave together.

Robyn: Wow... out of all the things I expected today... Whitely Schnee asking, Fiona on a date, and her accepting it is the last thing I'd ever expected.

May: But, they look so cute together! Especially with, Fiona being just one inch taller than him!

Jaune: May, I'm going to need those photos, and that video, Joanna. Evidence for... for things...

Joanna: You got it!

Jaune: Hahaha! Willow's gonna love this!

Robyn: Hey, Jaune? How come you've never taken me out on a date before?

Jaune: Because, I'm too busy to go on a date with any of you! Winter's too busy going on a date with, because she's busy being a, Specialist. You're too busy being a politician to go on a date, Robyn. And, I'm too busy being playing both sides to get you elected, and manipulating, General Ironwood to get what needs to be done! Which is dragging everyone away from his stupid project, that if he finds out what I've done, he'll probably shoot me for treason!

May: Y-Your kidding, right...?

Jaune: No. No I am not.

Robyn, and her, Happy Huntresses all looked at, Jaune, and took in the dead seriousness in his eyes. Robyn placed her hand on him, activating her semblance showing it off in a vibrant green hue.

Joanna: Holy shit, he's telling the truth...

Jaune: Oi?!

(Slap!)

Robyn: Ow!

Jaune: None of that!

Robyn: How mean... How could you do that to such a delicate maiden~?

Jaune: If you used your semblances on yourself it would be as red as blood for saying that.

Robyn: Hey!

Jaune: Alright, I need to go back, my shift is almost over, and I need to file in a report. I'll see you later ladies.

May: Bye, Jaune.

Joanna: See you later, Jaune.

Jaune: Oh, before I go... Robyn?

Robyn: Yea... MPHH?!

Jaune grabbed, Robyn's chin, and pulled her in for a kiss. He pushed his lips upon her, causing, Robyn to moan deeply within her throat, causing her to gasp for air as he broke their kiss.

Jaune: Consider that an IOU for a real date.

Robyn: O-Okay...

Jaune: Well then, till later then, my Lady.

Jaune turned, and left the, Happy Huntresses 'secret' base. Leaving a panting, and blush stricken, Robyn with a hand upon her chest as she watched her, Knight leave.

Robyn: Oh gods~!

May: Oh shit... she's got it bad...

Joanna: She's got it really bad!

May: It's fucking adorable.

Joanna: So adorable.

~~~

One of the back doors to the, Schnee manor slowly opened, and closed as a skinny twig snuck it's way inside. It stealthily made it's way to a room in the house. As it reached the door to the room, it quietly opened the door, before slowly shutting it behind him. A tired sigh with a hint of joy escaped his lips. He turned on the lights to the room, turned around, and screamed.

: AHHHHHH?!?!

: Hello, Whitely...

Whitely: M-Mom?! What are you doing in my room?!

Willow: The better question is; Why are you home so late?

Whitely: Wha... I'm not late...

Willow: It's, 3:32 am...

Whitely: T-That's not so late...

Willow: Whitely you've complained that it's too late, and you need to head to bed at 9 pm. You have never once stay out so late before. So, where were you?

Whitely: I-I-I was out... w-with friends...

Willow: You don't have any friends.

Whitely: I just recently met them...

Willow: And, you were hanging out with these friends of yours... so late because...?

Whitely: W-We were just having so much fun we lost track of time...

Willow: And, did you have 'fun' with this friend?

Whitely: We just talked, we didn't do anything... uncouth...

Willow: But, would you have if you could?

Whitely: It was a first date, you don't do anything like that until the third...

Willow: So it was a date~?

Whitely: Grkk?!

Willow: So tell me, who was it that you were on this date with?

Whitely: I-I don't have to tell you anything!

Willow: Whitely... I am your mother, you will tell me about this sheep girl you were seeing...

Whitely: Wha... how did you know she was a sheep faunas?!

Willow: Because, Jaune told me.

Whitely: That traitor! Why did he tell you?!

Willow: Because you took so long, and for the record, Jaune didn't actually tell me.

Whitely: He didn't, then who did?

: I did.

Whitely: AHHHH?!

The chair to, Whitely's desk turned around to show a very irate Winter Schnee staring back at him.

Whitely: W-W-Winter?! When did you get here?!

Winter: Oh, a while after mother told me you weren't home. And, a few minutes after I interrogated, Jaune about who you were with. So, tell me, Whitely... Why were you on a date with, Fiona Thyme. A member of the, Happy Huntresses?

Whitely: I-I-I...?! I can explain!

Willow: I always knew you liked lamb, but to like it in such a manner~?

Whitely: I-I don't like it in that manner... Well, Fiona is...I don't mean!

Winter: Start talking, Whitely...

Willow: Yes, mother want's to hear everything about your little date~!

Whitely: Ohhhhh...!

Whitely: Shit...

#rwby #jaune arc #winter schnee #willow schnee #whitely schnee #james ironwood #robyn hiil #joanna greenleaf #fiona thyme #may marigold #jaune x robyn #robyn x jaune #rwby sherwood knight #weiss schnee

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thelostconsultant · 7 months ago

Text

Stay with me

pairing: Max Verstappen x shifter!reader

summary: The end of your agreement is getting closer, but Max doesn't want you to leave. You have your doubts about a relationship with him, so you want to go.

part two

There was a knock on your door, but not a single cell in your body wished to open it. You had been in your room for most part of the day, focusing on work instead of the quiet drama in this household, and so far it helped to avert your thoughts. Despite asking several times, you still didn't know why Max had been so grumpy lately.

He didn't even want you to sleep next to him, and sometimes he closed his door as a sign that you should keep out. So you locked yourself into your room and became a workaholic again, spending hours and hours doing the job you once loved so much. Because ever since you moved in, work became a nuisance, something you were expected to do.

He knocked again, and this time he didn't stay quiet. “I need to talk to you, could you come out?” he asked, his voice sounding strange. Sad, or maybe disappointed.

With a sigh, you went out to meet him in the awkward silence that settled between you the moment you stopped in front of him. He took a deep breath to prepare himself, then reached out to cup your cheek, his thumb absentmindedly drawing gentle circles.

“What will happen after the race?”

“I guess I'll move back home,” you replied quietly.

Max nodded as he nervously licked his lips. “And what if you didn't? Why don't you stay with me?” His voice was dripping with desperation, and his eyes were silently pleading to make you change your mind.

It was heartbreaking, partly because you hated seeing him like this, and partly because at the bottom of your heart you didn't want to leave him alone. But having no idea which you was the one he liked more made things complicated.

When he realized you weren't about to answer, he leaned closer to you, his gaze so intense you were afraid it would burn a hole in your head. “I love you. I need our evenings on the couch when you fall asleep next to me, and I need you there in my bed to sleep well. Stay with me and give me a chance to prove we would be good together. Please.”

You had to remind yourself that it's impossible to fully get to know someone after just a few weeks. Yes, you liked the version of him you spent time with, but it was just the two of you here. You didn't go out together, you didn't meet his friends, he stayed with you ninety percent of the time, and so you had no idea what you would have to face in the long run.

Your train of thought was interrupted when you felt his hand move to the back of your neck so he could pull you closer for a kiss, and when you automatically returned it, he pushed your back against the wall to trap you there. He was seemingly hell-bent on making you weak in the knees, even managing to get a lustful moan out of you when his fingers tightened around you throat a little.

Why did he have to make things hard for you? Why couldn't he let it go and look for someone else? Someone who would be more comfortable with the idea of living under a microscope thanks to him.

When he finally pulled away a little, you flashed a sad smile at him. “One last weekend, Max. That's all I can offer,” you told him. Did it hurt to say this? Sure. But you didn't want the changes in your life that he would bring around. You wanted to remain a normal girl, you wanted to be known for what you achieved, not for being the girlfriend of one of the best drivers of your time.

For long seconds he watched you in silence, but eventually he nodded and let go of you. “If you don't want to come with me, it’s okay. You can go home anytime,” he told you before heading to his room, leaving you there to think about whether or not it was a good idea.

You had known he was attracted to you since day one, after all he told you he wanted to kiss you back then. But you wanted to stay true to the agreement that brought you here, you didn't want complications, so you kept a certain distance as long as you could. He made it hard, but you managed quite well. Or so you thought.

Going with him after this conversation would have been awkward, you knew that. The only thing you could do now was packing your things and leaving as soon as you could, hoping he would be over you soon. He deserved to be happy, but he should be happy with someone else.

You: I guess you need some alone time so I don't want to bother you. But I'm leaving. Thanks for everything, and good luck for the weekend.

You put down your phone and went back to closing your suitcase, not expecting a response to your message. But then, a mere half a minute later, there was an unmistakable beep that filled the room.

Max: I'm not okay with you leaving and not coming with me after all, but fine, I'll respect your decision. I hope one day you'll tell me why you can't love me.

Did he really believe you couldn't love him? You decided to keep a distance, but it didn't mean you hadn't fallen in love with him along the way. With a groan, you left your suitcase behind and moved over to his room, knocking on the door and waiting for his response with your heart pounding fast in your chest. You heard his invitation, so you went inside and climbed into his bed without saying a word.

Max looked surprised, but he didn't say a word, only watched you patiently, waiting to see what your plan was. And you didn't stop, you climbed on top of him and leaned down to cup his face. “Don't you ever think that I can't love you. I do,” you told him softly before giving him a quick peck on the lips.

“Then why are you leaving?” he asked you hoarsely.

“Being with you would draw attention to me too every time people saw us together. I'm not ready for that,” you explained sadly as you began to place kisses along his jawline. If you were about to part, at least you could make your last evening together memorable.

Max captured your lips as his hands began to explore your body, and he apparently decided to take the lead from you when he flipped you around so he would be on top now. You expected him to say something, but the most you got was a deep growl when he slid his hand under your panties and felt how wet you were for him already.

Sex was great, but there was a chance of staying for good if you spent too much time in his arms, this is why you slowly peeled him off yourself and tried to get out of bed to collect your clothes. But he didn't let you, he just pulled you closer if that was even possible.

“You know I'd tell people who come after you to fuck off, right? I wouldn't let anyone make you sad,” he told you.

“I know.”

“Then stay. I'll protect you.”

You turned around to face him and he took this chance to kiss you again, making you giggle like some idiot. It was so tempting to agree, to stay here with him and enjoy the way he spoiled you with his attention. You let out a sigh as you watched him, your eyes exploring his face as if you were trying to memorize every little detail before leaving. Maybe that's what was happening. Maybe your brain had subconsciously already made this decision for you.

Max probably knew what you were thinking about, and his next words confirmed your suspicion. “We could have so many more nights like this. Just you and me, in the safety of our home. And you wouldn't have to come to every race weekend, only a few important ones if you felt like it,” he tried to convince you.

After a few seconds of silence, you reached for his hand to lace your fingers. “This is your home race this weekend. Must be important,” you began slowly, earning a nod from him, which was soon followed by a boyish smile. “If I receive one hateful comment, I'm out.”

“Noted,” Max said with a laugh before pulling you on top of him. You kissed him again, fingers tangled in his hair as you finally began to let yourself go. “I love you, kitten.”

You smiled at him as you rested your forehead against his, eyes locked the whole time. “I love you too, you maniac.”

#max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #formula 1 #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic

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flowerandblood · 6 months ago

Text

The Price of Pride (4/?)

[ canon • Aemond x Royce • female ]

[ warnings: fingering & oral sex, a kind of triangle, smut, the angst, description of the effects of murder, sexual tension, imprisonment, abuse of power, manipulation, violence ]

[ description: Prince Aemond finds a solution to the disproportion in the number of dragons between Dragonstone and King's Landing: he decides to find dragon blood and, like his half-sister, train dragon riders. He takes as his target the daughter of Daemon Targaryen and Rhea Royce, whom he abducts and imprisons in the Red Keep. Slow burn, darkish, insolent, arrogant Aemond. I have combined several requests here: (dragon blood female & prisoner female). ]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

The boy's death had devastated her.

Even though it was a strange child to her, in addition from a family she despised, it was still small and innocent – she had seen Prince Jaehaerys accompanied by servants escorting him to his morning classes when she herself had gone out to meet his uncle, to practice on Vhagar the commands as she did every day.

Knowing that her father had done this made her feel a partial sense of guilt for what had happened, though she did not understand why.

Was it because she was born of his poisoned seed?

That a part of him lived inside her?

She knew it was revenge for Lucerys' death, but after all, the little prince had nothing to do with it.

The death of an innocent being always hurt the most.

She watched his funeral procession from outside the windows of the Red Keep, from her prison that was her small chamber, thinking of her one-eyed cousin.

Were you with that fucking old whore whose tits you like to cuddle up to?

With your second mummy?

She didn't know why his lowered head, his face and big eye filled with tears of shame made her feel sympathy towards him.

However, the death of King's son made her reflect on her own life and what she had experienced in it.

She realised that she had lived for years as if in lethargy, spending her time riding horses and hunting, even though in the midst of her family, in fact always remaining alone.

She realised that she had never even kissed a man.

She had never experienced a touch that was tender, that was pleasurable, that made her feel safe.

She bit her lower lip, pacing around her room, suddenly getting an idea that was extremely dangerous.

Her cousin was interested in women – this she knew for sure – and after being humiliated by his brother in front of everyone gathered he would certainly not return to the brothel to his lover, whoever she was.

From what she understood, this woman was older than him, giving him fulfilment not only physically, but also purely childlike.

She knew he was weak, but now she also had the certainty that he was miserable.

She couldn't try to seduce him directly, offer to spend the night in his bed – he would send her away immediately, furious, knowing what she wanted to do and how she hoped to achieve it.

She had to show him what he could have, while at the same time not offering it to him herself.

She had to make him desire whatever she was in his mind.

"I want to ask you something, cousin." She muttered, standing over him with a jug of wine, wondering what she was doing. "And I know you won't like it."

She saw him freeze, looking ahead.

"You like to take risks, don't you?" He sneered, taking a deep sip of wine from his goblet without even bestowing a single glance on her.

His vision was hazy, his mind dulled by the wine.

He was weak, vulnerable, heartbroken by what had happened to his nephew, sunk in guilt.

This was her chance.

"No, but you give me no choice. I will fly with you and the will of the gods will happen, as you desire. However, the chance of me dying in flames or being devoured is just as great as the chance of me succeeding." She said uncertainly, and he sighed heavily, impatient, setting his cup down on the table.

"What do you want?"

She licked her lower lip, feeling her heart pounding like mad in her chest, cold sweat trickling down her back.

He would fall into a fury or fuck her, there was no other option left.

"Servant. I want to choose one and take him to my bed. I don't want to die without having any idea of this sensations." She muttered.

She saw that he froze motionless, his healthy eye open wide in shock.

Oh gods.

"Aren't you ashamed to ask something like that out loud? What self-respecting Lord will want you after this?" He asked coldly, annoyed, however it was not as aggressive a response as she had expected.

He himself didn't know what he thought of it, she thought.

Good.

"I don't care what the lords will think of me. If I become a dragon rider, my maidenhood will be the least of their worries. I have no desire to become either a wife or a mother. I could try to hide it from you, but I stand here before you and ask your permission like a dog." She said with a certainty that surprised her, recognising that her directness was due to the fact that she was partly telling the truth.

He was silent for a long time, his lips pressed together in a thin line, his finger in some involuntary reflex began to tap against the table top.

"Knowing what you ask, my soul will have no peace unless I am assured that no man has taken you by force."

There it is.

"I'll let you watch if it will soothe your conscience." She said without stammering, his grin turned towards her making her feel an uncomfortable shiver.

"It will."

Finding a willing person turned out not to be too difficult: she simply lied to the man she found handsome that the prince liked to look at such things and that it was his idea.

What could he do to her for those words even if he found out about it?

Were they not partly true?

Her whole body quivered in excitement and disbelief as, lying beneath Tyland Lannister's servant, she heard his lazy footsteps, felt his gaze on them, the fiery, thirsty lips of her lover pressed against hers.

It was a surprisingly wet and slick experience, not as pleasurable as she had imagined, however, it was not all that bad.

She swallowed hard, hearing her cousin sit down in a chair in the distance, and flinched when the man's hand suddenly clamped down on her breast, causing an unpleasant chill to pass through her.

"– no –" She whispered, tightening her hand on his wrist. "– not yet –"

She exhaled quietly, closing her eyes as she felt him take his hand away, trailing it instead around her waist, trying to feel what she had felt when her cousin had leaned over her face after she had fainted.

Serve me well and I will reward you.

When the time comes.

She felt it, that wonderful pulsing between her thighs, and sighed, opening her eyelids, involuntarily glancing at him. Her breath froze in her throat, her womanhood swelled all over as she met his gaze, dark and hot, his legs crossed, his head cocked in curiosity.

She gasped, feeling a squeeze in her throat and a cold shudder when the boy's body suddenly pressed her against the bed, constricting her space, making her fingers tighten on the back of his tunic in terror.

Is this how it should be?

Should she be so afraid, feel so cornered?

"– slow down –" She heard his voice, deep and displeased – her lover looked at him, surprised, panting heavily.

"– Your Highness? –"

"– slow down, I said –" He repeated with a kind of threat in his voice from which her lips parted in disbelief, some sense of gratitude and warmth spread through her heart, a pleasant stickiness sweeping from between her thighs down her buttocks.

He was protecting her, she thought, feeling the situation begin to slip out of her control.

This was exactly what she wanted.

Make me feel safe, she thought pleadingly, but no words left her lips.

Shame overwhelmed her.

"– sink your fingers between her thighs – prepare her properly –" He instructed the boy, her eyes grew big as she stared at him in disbelief – his nostrils twitched in excited breath, the corner of his mouth lifted in a dangerous smirk.

A sigh left her throat as the servant lifted her skirt and smallclothes, her gaze fixed on her cousin's face as his hand found her leaking, fleshy womanhood.

She moaned.

However, after a moment she flinched and swallowed hard, closing her eyes as she felt his fingers touch a very tender, sensitive spot, giving her pleasure and pain at the same time, not knowing what she herself felt, tears burning under her eyelids.

Why did it feel like this?

Why couldn't she enjoy it, why was she losing focus?

"– step back, boy –" She heard his voice, and then noticed that he moved towards them, startling her and him – she rose up on her elbows, panting heavily as he pulled her forward, sitting behind her back, pulling her close, his legs on either side of her body.

His arms embraced her lightly, his hand tilting her head back, allowing her to spread out comfortably while not taking away her sense of security.

She swallowed hard, feeling something long and hard pulsate behind her, pressing against her buttocks.

Good gods.

She gasped as she felt him press his nose against her hot cheek, his thumb running over her jaw as his free hand forced her to bend her legs at the knees, exposing her bare thighs.

"– bend over and lick her –" He commanded, running his full lips over the skin of her face, making her feel a simultaneous shudder of pleasure and terror shake her, his hand trailing down the exposed skin of her thigh.

Lick her?

What did he mean by that?

What purpose did it serve?

"– what? –" She mumbled, terrified, involuntarily reaching back with her hand, clamping it over his long white hair, wanting to pull away, hitting his hard body again.

She had nowhere to run.

"– easy – let me take care of this –" He whispered in her ear, making her moan stuck in her throat, her nipples became hard at his words, her throbbing walls clenching around nothing.

Let me take care of this.

He knew.

He knew what she craved.

She stifled a breath as the man obediently leaned between her thighs, a terrified, pathetic, surprised moan escaping her throat when she felt something warm and sticky slip between her tight, swollen slit.

His tongue.

She clenched her hand harder in his white hair, feeling her cousin's hand slide down her leg, to the very spot her lover had touched earlier – this time, however, she didn't feel the unpleasant pain as his fingertips merely circled around her oversensitive little bud, causing her to leak, stimulated from the inside and outside.

"– ah – oh, gods, t-too much, too much –" She mewled in despair as she tried to pull away from him, never having experienced a similar sensation before, he, however, held her in an iron grip, his free hand sliding from her face under the material of her gown, to her breasts.

"– you wanted it yourself – go on –" He said matter-of-factly in a way that sent a shiver through her – she tilted her head back, feeling the servant's tongue accelerate, forcing its way again and again deep inside her hot, throbbing cunt.

In some subconscious, involuntary reflex, she sought refuge, not knowing what to do with the waves of tickling pleasure and tension that were rising in her body, so she turned her face towards him and he leaned in, letting their foreheads touch.

For some reason she wanted to cry.

He was so close.

The gentle touch of his hand between her thighs, his thumb teasing lazily her hard nipple, his hot breath on her face, his embrace was too familiar, too safe.

"– if only you were my little sister – I'd caress you like this every night – would you like it? –" He breathed out encouragingly, and she shuddered all over in his arms, feeling her lover's tongue hit the sweet spot inside her again and again, her and her cousin's hips beginning to rub against each other, his manhood unashamedly hard and swollen.

If only you were my little sister.

I want this, she thought.

I want to be what you want me to be.

"– what would your father say at the sight of this – hm? – do you think he would be proud? –" He whispered, sinking his fingers into the throbbing folds of her moist womanhood, weeping with desire, teasing with lazy, slow circles her little bud.

She felt tears under her eyelids as she shook her head.

She didn't know.

She didn't know what her father would say to this sight.

He wasn't there for her.

He hadn't protected her.

"– you like it, don't you? – I can feel you're close – come on his face –" He exhaled and she shook her head, moaning from exertion, feeling something approaching, the tingling tension between her thighs unbearable, her breath heavy and hitched, droplets of sweat running down her skin.

"– g-gods, stop –" She mumbled out with difficulty, feeling that she couldn't take it any longer, and then she was shaken by a pleasure foreign and overpowering, hot and sweet, flowing in waves through her whole body, her lips, her nipples, her fingertips, her silken walls clenching around nothing.

For a moment she heard or saw nothing, heard his soothing whisper, his warm breath enveloping her face, his hands closed over her womanhood and over her breasts just continued to press against her skin, allowing her to calm down.

"You may leave. If you tell anyone about this, I will cut your tongue out." She heard his cold voice, but knew it wasn't meant for her – the man lying between her thighs had risen and simply stepped off the bed, leaving them alone, and she sighed loudly, as if she had just accomplished some extraordinary, demanding feat.

She didn't know why she had sought refuge in his embrace, why she had turned in his arms and snuggled into his body, burying her face in his neck, why she had felt nothing but peace as one of his hands lay on her back while the other slowly stroked her hair.

One by one tears ran down her cheeks, shame, relief and sadness spilling over her heart, making her only able to lie down and breathe. She closed her eyes, concentrating on his scent, the warmth of his body that pulsed almost imperceptibly, his manhood pushing against her stomach, his hands trailing gently over her body.

She thought that he was certainly proud of himself, but she decided that it didn't matter.

She needed his arms, she needed to hide, to disappear, to melt into him as one, not to think, not to feel, not to exist.

She fell asleep.

When she awoke, it was late afternoon – there was no one in the chamber but her, however, she knew it was not a dream.

Her bedding was soaked with his scent.

She wasn't sure who had benefited from what had happened. She decided, however, surprised by this discovery, that she did not regret it and did not intend to think about it again.

It had never happened.

As he had ordered, she was already ready before dawn, waiting for him in the courtyard in her riding attire, his mother, clearly displeased with his idea, tried to stop him, to his apparent annoyance.

"You cannot leave the Red Keep without Vhagar. Who will protect us?" She asked, and her son rolled his eyes, impatient, licking his lower lip.

"I leave you in the care of Sunfyre and Dreamfyre. May my brother be of some use for once. With the help of the gods, we will return in about four days with a new dragon on our side." He said and stepped around her, mounting his horse and nodding at her to do the same.

When they reached Vhagar's lair, the dragoness raised lazily her large head, looking at them curiously – having seen her almost every day, she had already become accustomed to her presence and scent, remaining calm.

"Come." He said, and she moved to follow him, seeing that he had taken in his hands some of the bags his horse had been carrying on its back earlier.

She walked behind him, never coming this close to her, watching as the prince tied the grey bags to the ropes hanging from the saddle.

"What are you waiting for? Climb up." He said, glancing at her impatiently, and she nodded, surprised by his directness.

They both had no intention of showing that what had happened had affected them in any way.

Being with him meant a constant battle for dominance.

So be it, she thought and glanced up, sighing quietly.

She was afraid that Vhagar would not be happy that someone other than her rider was trying to climb onto her back, she, however, merely tilted her head towards her and watched her, not moving from her place.

"Lykirī, Vhagar. Lykirī." Her cousin reassured her as she, panting heavily, climbed with great difficulty over one of the ropes to her very back and sat down in the large leather saddle.

She blinked as her cousin appeared at her side shortly afterwards, as if covering the same distance hadn't caused him any trouble, and sat behind her, pulling the bags up, using the ropes so that they weren't hanging down.

She grunted, leaning forward, hugging the front of the saddle, feeling him all too clearly, his body pressed against her buttocks and back. She shuddered as he slipped his hands under her shoulders, grabbed a couple of the front ropes and called out loudly.

"Sōvēs!"

She squealed, terrified, hugging the saddle as the dragoness suddenly rose up on her paws, moving forward with a loud thump, and closed her eyes as she spread her great wings and flapped them, struggling to slowly lift herself into the air.

She had never experienced something so terrifying and liberating at the same time.

It wasn't until Vhagar had stabilised her flight and was gliding through the heavens that she dared to open her eyes – she froze in awe, seeing clouds all around her, doing what other people could only dream of.

Indeed, there was something wonderful about it, she thought with delight.

In the freedom that flight in the skies offered.

She leaned against the front of the saddle, simply looking ahead with a smile, watching the sun rise in the distance. She drew in a loud breath, feeling her heart beat harder as his cheek pressed against hers, apparently resting in this position.

She felt his erection pushing against her buttocks again, but neither of them spoke.

It was just a man's natural reaction to a woman's closeness, nothing more, she thought.

She knew he was playing with her – she knew he already understood what she wanted.

What she needed.

Tenderness.

Care.

Shelter.

This was why he nuzzled his nose into her cheek, why he persisted in this position: he wanted to break her, wanted her to love what he could be for her.

She felt tears under her eyelids, her eyebrows arching in pain knowing that it was all just a lie.

Her father would never come back for her, and even if he did, it would only be for the sake of the dragon, if she could tame it.

But not for her.

She was of no value to either of them.

As they landed with a thud on the ground in the middle of a wasteland full of hills, evening was approaching. It was only when she opened her eyes, horrified by how intense the landing itself had been, that she realised that her cousin had not chosen this place without reason.

He must have noticed from above what she could see clearly now – vast expanses of black, scorched earth with dozens of animal skeletons.

She shuddered as she heard her cousin untie the bags they had taken with them, letting them fall to the ground, and after a moment he slid down the rope to the bottom, landing lightly on the ground himself.

"Come here."

She made big eyes, feeling that this height terrified her. She swallowed hard, turning her back, grabbing the line and squealed as she suddenly slid down it with far too much speed, thinking she was just going to kill herself.

She gasped as she felt someone's arms soften her fall, supporting her, his impatient sigh told her it was not a graceful jump.

"Get yourself together. We're going to recon. It's fresh tracks, it must not be far." He said, and she nodded, feeling her legs grow all stiff from the long hours of travelling in the saddle.

Her cousin looked around, as if trying to remember this place and how they were supposed to get back here, then moved ahead quickly, making her have to almost run after him.

"When we find it. What should I do? Approach it right away?" She exhaled, following him step by step.

"Mmm. No, you'd better not do anything rash. No sudden movements. You can't make a mistake." He said coldly, and she swallowed hard, thinking in the back of her mind that it was easy for him to say.

However, despite all the absurdity of the situation, she felt excitement.

If she succeeded, she would return to King's Landing on the back of her own dragon.

They climbed one of the peaks, from which they could see clearly in the distance the lying silhouette of Vhagar, the fields, hills and valleys, but not a trace of the dragon. Her cousin pressed his lips together, frustrated.

He thought this would be easier, and the dragon would come to them on its own, she thought with a sneer, but she dared not provoke him, knowing that they were both tired.

"We must turn back. It will be dark soon. We will start tomorrow before sunrise, moving in the opposite direction." He ordered and she nodded, following obediently behind him, looking around at the familiar landscapes.

She had an advantage over him here, she thought.

She knew these places, she knew these people.

So why didn't she feel the need to run away?

When they returned to Vhagar's liege, darkness surrounded them. Her cousin had picked up a few long, thick branches on the way, and when they sat down on the grass he laid them down and lit a fire using a flint he had taken from one of his bags.

She did not ask his permission, which did not escape his notice as she untied one of them and began rummaging through it.

"What are you doing?" He asked matter-of-factly, adding wood to the fire, watching her out of the corner of his eye.

"What did you take for us as nourishment?" She answered with a question to a question, causing him to merely turn his face away from her, trying to control himself for sure and not hurt her with his own hands.

"Bread and smoked meat." He said, and she sighed, pulling out a waterskin with spring water, drinking a few deep sips from it.

"If I had known that this would be our sustenance for the next few days, I would have asked you to bring a bow with us and I would have provided our meal myself." She said regretfully, and his face turned abruptly towards her.

"You don't need to eat. You will survive on water alone until our return to King's Landing." He hissed, meeting her tired, weary gaze.

"I have cooked many times while hunting with my uncle. It's a useful skill." She replied, pulling a woollen blanket from the pouch with which she covered herself.

Although Vhagar lay beside them, they were high between the hills where a strong, chilly wind was blowing.

She knew the night would be difficult.

Her cousin no longer spoke to her, gazing into the flames as if he could see something in them, his past or his future, his silhouette sitting on the Iron Throne or his fall from the heavens.

Finally, he lay down on the uncomfortably hard ground, placing one of his bags under his head, covering himself with the other blanket, and turned his back to her.

They couldn't sleep too close to Vhagar, for there was a risk that she would simply crush them by turning in her sleep. Therefore, they had to lie at a great distance from her, and their only source of heat was the fire.

She closed her eyes, trying not to think as her teeth began to chatter, her body trembling, her hands clenched into fists with each stronger gust of wind.

If this kept up, they'd both wake up with a fever.

"I'm cold." She said.

Silence.

A long one.

"I'm really cold. Aren't you?" She mumbled, guessing that he was suffering as much as she was, but would sooner die than admit it.

Targaryens and their fucking pride.

She stood up and walked a few steps with her blanket towards him, causing him to have exactly the reaction she wanted – he raised himself on his elbow and looked towards her, his jaw clenched in frustration.

"You have no shame."

"I don't care about shame. I'm supposed to die in dragon fire, not from the cold." She said and lay down beside him, slipping under his blanket, covering them with the other to create a thicker layer to protect them from the cold.

He slumped to the ground, letting the air out loudly, looking up at the stars as if he had given up. She embraced him, but not because she sought safety in his arms, but because he was a source of warmth that she wanted to cling to at all costs, hugging her face to his chest.

They stayed like that in silence, not moving – at first his whole body was tense, as if he thought that what she had done was just an excuse for her to slip her hand under his breeches and shamelessly try to seduce him – he relaxed, however, when he realised that all she really wanted was to lie in the warmth, and since he himself apparently felt better, also warmed by her presence, he said nothing more.

"What did you feel when you tamed Vhagar?" She whispered, looking ahead at the outline of the hills and mountains around them, feeling the cool breeze on her cheeks.

She was sure he wouldn't answer and felt herself begin to slowly fall asleep when she heard his quiet voice.

"Relief."

She blinked, surprised, not expecting him to put it this way.

Relief.

"Why?" She dared to ask further, still not looking at him, his heart hidden beneath the material of his tunic and cloak hit hard.

"I gave my family a reason to be proud." He explained, a note of bitterness in his words, as if something in that memory was painful to him.

She pressed her lips into a thin line, thinking with disappointment that she had never been anyone's pride.

Nothing she did mattered – not really.

She felt a single, lone tear run down her cheek onto the material of his leather coat and inhaled loudly, saying nothing more.

She shuddered, pulled out of her reverie when he slided his arm out from between their bodies – she froze when she felt him embrace her, cuddling her into his body, his fingers running through her soft hair as his cheek rested against her forehead.

She snuggled into him, into the merciless substitute of a protector he was to her, feeling the warmth in her chest as he let her face sink into his neck.

She knew that a part of him sympathised with her – she knew that, like her, he understood that in a day or two she might die for his cause, and so in some twisted definition of duty he tried to give her what she had craved all her life as a consolation prize for what she might lose.

It was so pathetic that she clenched her eyes shut and let heavy tears of shame run down her cheeks, her breath hitched and heavy, filled with pain.

She let him do this, let him take advantage of her desperation, the fact that she wanted so much to satisfy his vanity, because of how unavailable he reminded her of her father – by satisfying him, in her mind she was satisfying the man on whose lap she had sat as a small child, imagining that he had given her a second chance.

He created a lie for her to be able to endure what he was condemning her to.

"If you succeed. If you tame a dragon." He whispered, and she froze, feeling that he was about to reveal something vital to her, some secret he had never told anyone. "I will treat you like my little sister. I will care for you, and your place will always be by my side."

She shook her head, thinking how cruel he was, knowing exactly what to say, what to do to break her heart, to bend her to his will, to make sure she never betrayed him.

She cried out helplessly as he hugged her tighter to his body, as he cupped her cheek in his broad palm, rough from wielding his sword, and pressed his forehead against hers in a gesture that was too intimate, too tender, too sweet.

"I will protect you."

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pretty-little-mind33 · 6 months ago

Text

Dave Lizewski x fem!reader

Summary: Being partners with Kick-Ass is far more intimidating when you have a huge crush on him, especially when he won't stop talking about his crush.

Prompt: hurt and comfort - "I'm so sick of pretending like everything is okay."

here you go, my darling @lavieenvalentina! ily! seeing you in my notifs always makes me so happy!

DAVE LIZEWSKI MASTERLIST

BLURB MASTERLIST

The night is humid and hot and nothing seems to be going your way.

First, your costume had shrunk in the laundry making the middle feel three sizes too small. Second, it had been drizzling outside and now your hair is frizzy, and third—your partner, Kick-Ass, has been going on and on about this girl Katie from his high school.

You know Katie. You've deduced you go to the same school. She's all sugary sweet on the outside, but she's been casually teasing you since middle school, which is something you can't exactly tell him considering your identity must remain a secret.

It doesn't help that you don't know who Kick-Ass is either. Hell, he could be one of the stupid popular jocks for all you know and then you'd so feel silly.

"And her hair is so silky and smooth, I wonder how she—" Kick-Ass continues as you walk, grinning like an idiot. You don't know how much longer you can take this agony, but you try and listen to him anyway.

"You okay?" he asks after more rambling because he can now sense you aren't listening.

You pause, stopping at a crossroads and then you turn to him. "I should go home, there isn't any crime happening," you say, needing some time alone and away from him.

"Did I say something wrong?" he asks, his voice low and hoarse. It's the tone that makes your cheeks feel warm and your heart flutters uncontrollably. Behind his mask, his bright blue eyes shine and he's looking at you like some poor puppy who can't understand why his owner won't give him a bone.

"Don't look at me like that," you say, taking his arm and pulling him into a small alley.

"Like what?" he sounds genuinely confused as he leans against the brick wall.

"Like a damn wounded puppy!" you exclaim, throwing up your arms in exasperation, "As if I've kicked you or something stupid. Why do you always have to act like the one who's hurt when all you do is hurt me?!"

The words tumble from your lips.

"I hurt you?" he whispers, his concerned expression obvious even with almost his entire face covered. "How? I thought we were friends. You're the best damn friend I've ever had."

"You don't know me," you interrupt him and fiddle with the latex of your glove, "not really."

"Well, I could know you," Kick-Ass says, sounding very determined. "You're the one who doesn't want to know me. I've told you a thousand times you can trust me. I've even told you my name."

Your eyes widen at this revelation. "What? When?"

"The first week we met, you never told me yours but whatever," he shakes his head and then outstretches his hand, "Here, I don't mind. I trust you. My name is Dave," he says casually.

You suddenly click all the pieces in your head and your smile drops.

"Dave Lizewski?" you whisper, suddenly recognizing his voice. Of course, how could you not have recognized him? You sit next to Dave in Pre-Calculus every single day. Dave hangs around with Katie all the time. You look him up and down.

His eyebrows crease. "How did you know that?" he asks suspiciously.

You think, screw this, and untie your mask from behind your head, letting it drop into your hands. You look up, almost afraid of his reaction.

Dave's eyes widen and he stutters out your name, the syllables stuck in his throat as he processes that it's you.

He didn't consider you a friend at school, but you always helped him in Pre-Calculus when you could so he liked you. Plus, you're gorgeous and he can't deny that before Katie Deauxma, he'd thought of you in inappropriate ways—sometimes he still does.

His cheeks burn bright red.

"It's you," is all he can muster.

You shrug and look away from him. "This is so stupid," you say and then turn to him again, "We're so stupid for not knowing. I mean, we talk all the time."

Dave pulls off his mask. Luckily no one is walking around this dinghy alley to see you both. Your breath catches in your throat at seeing Dave, his hair messy and stuck to his skin, his glasses abandoned and dressed in his Kick-Ass suit.

You start to laugh. You aren't laughing at him but at this absurd situation.

Dave doesn't take it like that and he scrunches up his nose. "Are you laughing at me?"

You shake your head and look at him seriously. "No, I'm laughing because if I had known waking up today that the boy I have a crush on was none other than Dave Lizewski from Pre-Calculus—I think I would have pinched myself."

Your words sink and Dave's eyes widen until he looks almost scared. "What?"

"You know Katie thinks you're gay. That's the only reason she's your friend," you interrupt. You feel the need to tell him, like jealousy and pure venom is slipping from your mouth. Is it mean? A little, but you think it's time someone should burst his bubble.

Dave frowns, your previous statement slipping his mind momentarily. "I know that," he tells you, defensive.

"Then why on earth do you have to go on and on about her all the time?"

"Sorry, I didn't realize I was inconveniencing you, Y/n," he snaps without hesitation, crossing his arms.

"Well, you are," you snap back, glaring at him and looking at him like this, knowing who he is, makes this a thousand times harder.

If Kick-Ass did turn out to be a stupid, meat-head, jock then this would be so much easier. Only he isn't. He's Dave Lizewski and Dave is sweet and he's funny and he's brave and—

"I'm so sick of pretending like everything is okay," you blurt out and bury your face in your hands.

Dave is quiet for a moment until he walks closer and pulls your hands down so he can look at you. "Okay, listen, can we please rewind for a second?" he asks, "y-you said you have a crush on me."

You shake your head and warmth spreads across your cheeks.

"You did," Dave insists.

"Doesn't matter, it's stupid."

"It does matter," he says and his hands cup your cheeks, hair falling and tickling his wrists as his mask hangs from his hand. "It matters because you're lovely and kind and I really like you."

"Not the way I like you," you counter, "you like Katie Deauxma."

Dave winces and he can't argue. His feelings don't just magically disappear, although he can admit that for some reason—after seeing you in this light—something inside him shifted. Something he can't explain right now.

"Y/n, you don't know me either," he tells you honestly, "you may know Kick-Ass a little, and you may like him, but you don't like Dave."

Not yet, you want to finish but you don't. You keep your mouth shut. He has a point.

"Just don't talk about her anymore, will you?"

Dave smiles a little, nodding his head. "Okay. Promise," he looks into your eyes, his gaze flickering to your lips.

He has a really strong feeling he won't need to talk about Katie anymore.

tags: @earth-elemental18

#dave lizewski kick ass #dave lizewski x reader #dave lizewski fanfic #dave lizewski x you #dave lizewski imagine #dave lizewski x fem!reader #dave lizewski x y/n #dave lizewski blurb #dave lizewski fluff #aaron taylor johnson #aaron taylor johnson fic #aaron taylor johnson fanfiction #aaron taylor johnson kick ass #kick-ass #dave lizewski

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steddiehasmywholeheart · 7 months ago

Text

Just thinking about an no-Upside Down au. Teacher!Steve, escort!eddie, SFW, both mid-twenties. Never met Eddie.

Steve has trauma from the way his parents treated him, and nightmares from the mall fire he was in. He usually manages this by hanging out with Robin and having sleepovers once or twice every week as long as she's single, or her coming over for evenings and keeping him safe for a few hours while he naps. It's not the best sleep in the world, but it gets him by.

But then one day, he realises she's going on holiday. For 2 weeks. And he has no idea how he's going to sleep. He can't won't take any medication because of a bad experience, and nothing but someone he trusts being there ever helps him get a good night's sleep. Even if he tried to get a casual fuck over the weekend, the chances are he'll have a nightmare and scare the shit out of them. That's happened one too many times and he refuses to do that again.

He's watching TV one night when the characters on screen start talking about escorts, and suddenly, the idea doesn't seem too crazy. Fast forward a few days, and after a lot of research, he finds himself making the call. He knows it's a lot of money, especially on his salary, but if it helps, it helps, and he knows he hates going a week without some decent sleep, let alone 2. He's bound to get a migraine, and he can't afford to miss work for that.

So, he books in with a male escort, voice shaking and hands sweating, but determined all the same. It's his only hope of surviving.

The week Robin leaves is exactly as hard as he expects it to be, and by Friday he's almost too tired to be nervous. But when he gets home from work and showers, some jitters return, getting much stronger when there's a knock at his door, 7pm sharp.

The guy standing on the other side of the door is utterly gorgeous. Tattoos, leather jacket, messy long black hair, and just a hint of a self-confident swagger that Steve is sure he's muting in an attempt to be professional. Steve just stands there, trying not to let his jaw hit the floor or his eyes pop out of his head. The guy's - Eddie's - smile, isn't helping.

Initially, Eddie flirts a little, trying to put Steve at ease. And it should work. But for some reason, it doesn't. Maybe it's because this is a guy that Steve would fuck, but tonight, he just needs to sleep, and somehow that feels even more vulnerable. But Eddie quickly picks up on it and backs off, talking to him in a soothing tone, and Steve quickly feels himself unspooling, settling into having Eddie in his space.

The rest of the night passes easily. They eat takeout, chill on the sofa, chat, and before Steve knows it, it's 10pm and Steve's eyes are burning. Eddie just lets the conversation settle, smiling gently and letting Steve make the first move. Letting Steve know he's still in control.

Its nerve wracking to go through his evening routine with a stranger he's paying to be there (though for what he still hasn't decided. He'd told the agency cuddling, but that seemed such a big ask right now), waiting in his bedroom for him, but Eddie makes that easier once again. When Steve emerges from the bathroom, he's met with his metal attire neatly folded on a chair, wild hair now tied up in a messy bun, and the man himself in sausage dog covered pjs. He can't help but laugh, Eddie's triumphant grin sending flutters through him.

They settle into bed, and Eddie does ask what Steve wants, but the words don't come. So, Eddie just holds his arms out, and with Steve's consent, gently guides him into his chest. His large, warm, safe chest.

For the briefest moment, Steve remains tense, breath not coming as easily as he'd like. But then he's melting, fingers curling into Eddie's soft pj top, a sound dangerously close to a whimper threatening to crawl up his throat. And Eddie just holds him tighter (though not too tight), murmuring softly in his ear, his voice low and ever so slightly raspy, sending shivers down his spine.

Steve doesn't want it to end. It's perfect. With Robin gone, he hasn't been touched intentionally in a week, and even before that, it's more likely that they're sitting on each other's laps or something. He can't remember the last time he was just held.

"Easy, big boy, I've got you," Eddie murmurs as Steve clutches onto Eddie's shirt even more tightly. "I'm not going anywhere."

He knows he's delusional from the lack of sleep, because right before he drifts off, he thinks he can hear real concern and care in Eddie's voice.

#steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie munson x steve harrington #steve x eddie #eddie x steve #stranger things #no upside down au #escort!eddie

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keruimi · 8 months ago

Text

Your Dream

Pairing: Obanai Iguro x reader

Warnings: Mention of Sexual Abuse, Death, Total Angst

Note: It has a similar plot with my other Obanai Oneshot but why do I feel like this hurts more? Anyways, I am back to writing Kny especially when it's angst. And yes, it's Obanai Iguro again, my favorite character. The only reason I wrote this is because of the Obamitsu Angst in my fyp like stop reminding me, it really hurts. Anyways, I hope you enjoy it because I don't want to suffer alone.

____________________________

It was a normal life I live, working as an average kakushi who is mostly assigned in the kitchen.

When an odd request from Oyakata-sama changes my routine. When he assigned me to deliver meals to the new pillar, the Snake Hashira, Obanai Iguro.

At the age of eighteen, I finally experienced the anger of a Hashira with just my presence.

Knowing I was silent my whole life, I never found the reason why the Hashira glared at me on our first meeting.

I can't even count how many meals have been ignored or thrown whenever I deliver it to him.

Feeding the Snake Hashira became part of my routine that I completely memorize the route of his manor since he doesn't want anyone to be with him.

"Y/n, please take care of Obanai Iguro's health for me"

Those are the words I hold onto as I tolerated the cold treatment of the Hashira.

I lost track of the times I stay outside the freezing cold when he doesn't want to open his door for me.

It became more torturing when my heart suddenly beat faster when he started treating me differently after a year.

When he finally started to accept the food I cooked and delivered to his manor. Even if he can't finish it, I am thankful that it wouldn't become a waste anymore.

I knew our simple interaction progressed more when he allowed me to come closer to his space. Even a job that I shouldn't be doing, I'm doing it for him.

Like cleaning his manor, grinding ink for him, and helping him sort different poetry he has written.

Those simple moments introduce me to the new side of him that I slowly fell in love with.

It made me want to try harder until the walls he built around him completely fall down.

Until he can finally open his heart to me.

But that friendship I tried to stabilize, brick by brick, became nothing when he met her in the Ubuyashiki mansion.

My effort is almost nothing with how easy she manages to make him soften to her.

And I started to look for the reasons why.

The friendship I tried so hard to build is ruined and I felt like I went back to the first time we met.

The cautious aura that made it difficult for me to connect to him.

And I knew those thoughts are really happening when the food I brought is left untouched.

"I have already eaten with Mitsuri"

It was the sentence I kept hearing but I didn't stop doing my duty of making his food for him.

Because I learned to love taking care of him.

Those tasty delicacies I used to love cooking, change when I noticed he was disgusted just by the smell of it.

I adjusted so many things that I completely forgot what I really love.

Just to serve him right.

I prevent the cough that is threatening to leave my mouth as I grind ink for the Hashira I am serving.

As he wrote the letter he always sent to her.

It was breaking me. But I have no right to feel anything for him.

I already knew ever since, that a high-ranking warrior like him is not meant to love me.

But the weak side of me silently yearn that he can return it.

But seeing how in love he is with another woman. I knew I never had a place in his heart.

But just a mere presence that accompanies him in the garden.

I was just a shadow he would never notice. A person that serves him, and he would not change his perspective on me.

I was beside him so I could serve him, not to love him.

I wipe the single tear and escape my eyes before he notices as I force my body to move according to what he wishes.

While he remained clueless of my emotion that I tried so hard to get rid of.

The emotion that broke my heart when I saw the ring in his room while I was cleaning.

I could never look at the mirror just to see how my eyes portrayed the pain I felt when I saw it.

"Obanai-san really liked Mitsuri, don't you?" I mustered up the courage to speak my thoughts with a slight teasing tone as my back faced him.

I bit my lip to stop the sob that is threatening to be heard as I heard shuffling behind me.

"Obanai-san must treat Mitsuri-san right. Marriage is a dream for every woman. Especially when they will have a good man to love" I turned to him with a smile as I slowly opened my eyes and saw how soft his eyes turned because of embarrassment.

I don't know his past. I don't know what he loves.

I don't know Obanai Iguro.

But I know he has a hard time trusting others.

"I hope you both live a happy life" I managed to let out but it came out as a whisper as I took my things and left the room.

I froze the moment I left his manor as the tears I managed to subside finally escaped my eyes as I found myself crying on the way back to the village I live in.

I knew it was coming but my heart won't stop aching. My eyes can't stop crying. My mouth can't stop sobbing.

I really love him.

But he is not mine.

~•°•~

I lost track of the years when the female kakushi started to serve me.

The only woman I allow to enter my manor with the excuse of serving me.

Because I thought of changing myself even a little no matter how much I feel fear or disgusted by a female approaching me.

Because she gave effort to providing me with the most comfortable thing I needed. Especially during my meal time.

Starting with a simple window being opened, creating less flavorful food that I can tolerate.

I knew she was adjusting for me so I let her presence in my everyday life. Until that became like a friendship I was thankful for.

I can talk to someone about things without including battles.

I love her like a family.

That explained how my body felt frozen when I heard the news of what happened to her on the way to my manor.

The news of her being taken advantage of by a man who manages to memorize her route to my manor due to her everyday routine of walking her way there.

The anger I felt was unexplainable that I can find myself hurting a fellow human.

I knew humans can be evil, but I didn't know I could hate them more than I hate demons.

But I thought I made a mistake too.

If I just let her stay in my manor so she wouldn't exert too much energy just for my food, I could protect her better.

I know I'm slowly losing control when my self-restraint almost fell apart when I visited her quarters and I found her silently sitting at the corner of her room, hugging her knees.

As the spark in her eyes completely vanishes.

"She refused to eat nor let another woman near her. When the others approach her, she flinches. We don't know how to approach her anymore" the Kakushi who led me to her room stuttered out as I felt my hand grip the wooden door in anger.

Yet my eyes badly wanted to cry for her.

"Shinobu tried to check on her but she started to cry whether she was near. We just confirm the situation when the evidence of the sexual abuse was present in her body when we found her unconscious in the forest"

"Stop talking" I snap at him who immediately keeps his mouth shut as my snake hiss at him who scurried away.

"Y/n, it's me" I knocked on the door even though it was already open to make her aware of my presence in the room.

I don't know how I control my voice who I thought will be expressed in a trembled tone.

I am a man.

That is the first thought that came to my mind that made me decide to sit at the floor near the door.

"Obanai Iguro, you know me, right?" I spoke again and she kept her silence making my hands tighten its hold on my pants.

I'm not used to this side of her.

"Are you scared of me?" I asked slowly as silence occupied the entire room before she shook her head a little.

"May I come closer?"

With that question, I notice how her hands tighten on the blanket surrounding her making me release a shaky breath.

I never knew I was willing to hurt a fellow human just for her.

It made me want to make the man suffer badly. Worse than what he did to her.

"I'm sorry" I was left speechless when those were left on her lips and I immediately shook my head.

"Don't apologize. You did nothing wrong. It was them that wronged you" I am not good at words but I wanted to completely express my concern and pain for her.

I badly wanted to avenge her.

"It was me who should apologize because I was not there for you"

"I am not your responsibility..." She whispered and I shook my head once again, wishing for her to look at me even once so she can see how badly I am hurt for what she has experience.

How desperate I am to show she was not alone during this time.

"You are. Because you are important to me" I felt tears in my eyes as Kaburamaru slithered his way to her and slowly circled around her shoulder in a protective manner.

"I am tainted..."

"You're not" I firmly stated. "I am the tainted one between the two of us" those words quickly left my lips without any hesitations and she finally had the courage to look in my direction.

"So don't look at yourself that way. For me, you are still the same Y/n that accompanied me" I stuttered out as I tried to stabilize my breathing.

"I will seek justice for you. That's a promise"

I saw how a tear left her eyes as she looked outside the window. Removing her gaze on me.

"In our generation, marriage is every woman's dreams. Is a symbol of acceptance. Is where you will really feel you are loved and chosen by someone" she whispered.

"But in order to be chosen, you need to be pure, compliant, and well-mannered. That's what it takes to be a good wife" she stated as Kaburamaru nuzzled his head on her cheek when he noticed her difficulty in breathing.

I badly want to lend her my shoulder to lean on, an advice to make her mind clear. But in this situation, we both knew she just needed an ear to listen to her.

Someone to comfort her with just presence.

"But if you don't meet those requirements, you will be shunned by society. You will lose the qualification that a wife has."

"Right now, I will not be the wife of someone. I will not be married to a man I will dedicate my life to. Because I don't have my purity that only my husband should have." She whispered.

It was a painful word to state out loud. But right now, I can't read her.

Because she completely closed off her emotions.

"I don't fit the standard that a wife should have." She whispered as she buried herself in her blanket that hid herself from me.

"And it hurted so badly"

I closed my eyes when she spoke those words.

And I hate myself because I can't do anything for her but just torture her attacker.

"What else is your dream other than marriage?" I ask her as she closes her eyes to rest it for a little while.

"I want to meet the one that is willing to spend their entire life with me" it was a hopeful wish.

Silence occupy the room and I thought she fall asleep until she whispered the words I never expected to hear from her.

"I love you..." It was barely heard but I knew it was the words she hide for so long.

That made it known to me that I could grant that dream to her.

But I decide to give her the time she needs to heal from that painful experience.

She needs to heal.

Those are the thoughts I could only think of as I laid her down in her bed in a more comfortable position when I noticed she had finally fallen asleep.

But I never expected that it would be the last time I would see her with her eyes open.

Because when I came back the next day, the news of her death was the one that greeted me.

It was a nocturnal death because her heart failed during her sleep.

It finally felt like my whole world collapsed and my mind completely shut down.

If it weren't for Sanemi being beside me, I would have completely fallen on the floor as I kneel in front of her room.

It hurts.

I wanted it to stop.

But I know that nothing could make her happy anymore.

Because that nightmare would continue living within her for the rest of her life.

I never manage to cherish her smiles more. I only shrugged the moments I have with her because I thought we would stay that way.

That I never knew I was running out of time.

It took every cell in my body to approach her cold body that is covered with white cloth as I kneeled beside her.

I silently slid the ring that she found on my mansion in her finger as tears continued escaping from my eyes as Sanemi just stood behind me.

I lost someone who made me feel like I have the family I never have.

In this life, we were parted to heal.

But I will make sure that her wish will be granted.

"In this life" I started to whisper as my lips lean on her fingers where the ring stays.

"As God as my witness, I promise to take you as my bride. Give myself as your other half" I keep mumbling as I squeeze her cold hand as tears continue to fall from my eyes.

"That even death can never separate us. Because in our next life, I'll make sure, that I will utter this words to you again"

And in that life, you will be alive to hear it

453 notes · View notes

admirationandromantics · 2 months ago

Text

Never have I ever...

Yes, this was a request, and it is not proofread! Anyways, hope you like it, and I'll be working on some more this evening. Don't know if I can post tonight though, but we'll see. Trying to stay optimistic, and finally exams are over so I can actually do whatever I want. Anyways, enjoy, and requests are still open <3

Small prequel to the story (not necessary for this one)

Word count: 2,5 k (Unedited)

The night was still young, music playing and people chatting. Thank god the Washingtons said yes to host, because this type of mess would’ve left me in tears. And we were barely getting started. I take another sip of my drink, hoping to get that good dizzy feeling a little quicker.

“Boo!” Josh yells, grabbing me from behind. I shriek, giving a loud scream. He’s quick to put a hand over my mouth, almost too quick. Like he was anticipating it.

“Jeez, sorry. Don’t scream, people are gonna think I murdered you or something”

I clutch my chest, heart still beating hard and fast. This man will be the death of me.

“You almost did” I whisper, hitting his head. He smiles, taking my hand in the air, pulling it up to his lips. He leaves a trail of wet kisses down my wrist, each peck more sensual than the last. During this, the eye contact remains, strong blue orbs cutting through me. It’s almost as if I can see how hard he wants to ravage me. The thought alone makes me heat up, underwear getting wetter. He notices my blush, which makes his signature smirk form on his lips. Oh… he’s thinking about stuff, that dark and sinister side of him taking over.

“Hey guys… what are you doing?” Jess yells, stopping in the doorway. I jolt away quickly, looking down at my wrist.

“My bracelet fell off, couldn’t fasten it on my own”

She looks convinced, maybe she knows how hard they actually are to click shut. She waves her hand, signalling for us to come.

“Okay, anyways, drinking game and both of you are joining”

“Coming” I say, looking back at Josh. We’d been dating for a while now, though we hadn’t told the others yet. We wanted to figure things out on our own first, check that we matched. If it didn’t work out, it would affect all the others, and we would rather just try to get back to normal.

He’s still staring me down, challenging me to leave him in the dark. I smile, taking hold of his hand and dragging him with me to the living room. Everyone is sitting on either the floor or the couch.

“So, what are we playing?” I ask, sitting down beside Sam. Josh walks over to Chris, nudging his arm to give him room on the couch.

“Never have I ever” Ashley answers unenthusiastically. I know she thinks the game is boring, that she already knows everyone’s secrets. Well, almost everyone. Emily lines up the shot glasses, laying them on the table in the middle of the crooked circle we’ve created.

“Quick question” Sam asks. “Can we only ask about things we’ve done before, or can I ask anything? Like even if I’ve never done it”

“You’ve never played before?” Matt asks, looking over at her.

“Yes I have, but there are different versions of it”

“You can ask anything you want” Jess answers, settling everything. “I’ll start”

“Never have I ever had a thing for someone in this room”

I watch as every single one in the room takes a shot. Hard start I guess. I look over at Josh, who gives me a wink before pouring down the content. I take a deep breath, trying to get over the taste as quickly as possible. This was gonna be a long night. We continue the game, going in a circle so everyone gets to ask a question. Beth goes after Jess.

“Okay, never have I ever stolen something”

Mike, Matt, Jess, Hannah and Josh drink. Emily looks over at Mike with contempt before questioning him.

“When have you ever stolen something?”

“Stole your heart, didn’t I” he grins, kissing her on the cheek. Hannah rolls her eyes, and Jess is looking at them a little too hard. If someone decided to dig into that, I wouldn’t want to be in the room. Matt breaks the silence, asking the next question.

“Anyways, I have a good one. Drink if you’ve had sex with someone in the room”

Everyone but Ashely, Jess, Chris and Matt drinks. I’m actually surprised. I would’ve thought that Jess and Matt would’ve gotten it going once or twice. Ashley and Chris were no surprises though, they couldn’t even confess to each other. It would take some time for them.

I drink down the liquid, noticing Josh doing the same thing. He smiles, a sweet one that makes no one suspicious. I look away, getting to see Sam finishing her glass.

“Something you wanna tell me?” I tease, looking over the room.

“You need to get me more drunk to get anything out of me” she laughs, nudging my arm.

“Okay, my turn” Mike exclaims, grunting a little from the last shots.

“Never have I ever used knives while having sex”

I quickly take the shot, making sure to do it as discreetly as possible. Luckily, most eyes are on Josh, as he drinks up.

“What? Why would you do that”

“You’re sadistic!”

“Was this your idea, or your partner’s?”

Josh just shakes his head in response, refusing to give them a satisfactory answer. I smile at him, trying to hold my laughter as everyone is teasing him. He gives me that known sinister smirk again, sitting up, capturing everyone’s eyes with his movement.

“I think you missed a certain other person in the room who’s also had some experience in this area. Don’t give me all the attention”

“Jerk” I mouth to him, everyone’s heads turning to me. Matt lets out a whispering exhale, and Ashley’s holding her hand over her mouth to stop her laughter. I put my hands up as a surrender.

“I tried something. As if you guys haven’t done freaky shit” I say, my finger pointing over every single person in the circle.

“To build on the sex-related ones” Emily starts, shifting everyone away from me. Thank god.

“Never have I ever been tied up”

I nervously take another shot, but calm down as more people join this one. Both Emily and Mike join, as well as Beth. Josh licks the rim of his glass, eye contact going hard before gulping down the liquid once again.

Hannah is next in line, and I hope for a non-sex one. She glances around the room before taking a breath, the circle waiting in anticipation.

“Never have I ever fucked in my best friends house”

I drink at the same time as Sam, and we look at each other wide eyed. In MY house? She had sex under my roof without me knowing.

“You had sex in my house??” We both shout at the same time. Many others drank as well, but our joined voices make everyone burst out in laughter.

“When was this?” I ask, and she just smiles.

“As if you’re gonna tell me yours. I’m not spilling any more than I have to”

“Well, I hope at least you didn’t spill too much in MY house” I smirk, and she shoves me. A particular loud “What” followed by Josh’s laughter makes us look on the other side.

“Dude, what the hell, I haven’t even hosted yet” Chris exclaims, arms wide in confusion.

“Don’t worry, we were quick, you didn’t even know” he laughs, giving me a little side glance.

“Wait, that means… The only one you could’ve done it with was-” Josh smacks a hand over his mouth, making everyone shout at him.

“Stop!”

“We wanna hear!”

He leans over to Chris, whispering something in his ear. This makes him stop squirming, and he removes the hand carefully as everyone is waiting in anticipation.

“So” Jess begins. “Who was it”

“Can’t tell, bro-code”

She throws a pillow at him, causing a small snicker to escape his lips. The room fills with sighs as they don’t get to know who the culprit is. It’s me, I know it, Josh knows it, and not Chris knows as well. He raises his eyebrows my way, and I mouth a little “sorry” back. We weren’t gone for long when it happened. Just a quick thing in his bathroom while he and Ashley tried starting up the console in the living room.

Sam goes next, facing me with a smug look. “You know, I’m still not over the knife-thing” My eyes widen, and I look at her pleadingly. She turns to the others, loving the power she holds.

“Never have I ever done it outside, in the snow, on Blackwood Mountain”

I thought it was gonna be worse, but Mike and Emily must definitely have done it there. I empty the glass once again, getting more used to the taste as we keep going. Josh does the same, and suddenly, everyone has a look of realisation on them.

“Are you fucking kidding me” Sam exclaims happily, her theories were right. I look over at Mike and Emily, their glasses in front of them still full. Shit. I capture Josh’s eyes, and he’s already realised it. We gave ourselves away. Sam is laughing hysterically, holding onto me for support.

“Like, I knew you were having good sex, but the whole ‘he must’ve learned to use his tongue from the gods’-thing is Josh? I don’t believe it!”

“Sam, shut up” I whisper, and she throws herself backwards, trying to regulate her breathing.

“Wow, so I’m made of the gods?” he teases from across the room, and I roll my eyes.

“Thank god that secret didn’t last long” Chris exclaims, breathing out in relief. Half of everyone here is laughing, and the rest is looking at us, expecting to hear more.

“I hope you talk about me like that to your friends” Mike whispers to Emily.

“Not much to talk about dear”

“Okay fine” I shout, making the room silent. “You want drama, I’ll give it to you” I stand up, looking down at Sam.

“Never have I ever, done the deed with a twin”

Her mouth opens in shock, and people turn to look at Beth, who’s a brushing mess. Got ya Sam. I sit down again, a smirk forming on my lips. “What was it you said again Sam? Something about how incredibly sexy t-mmf” She moves her hand over my mouth, letting only muffled sounds come out. She leans over to my ear, whispering. “I got you, you got me. Even?” I shake my head, ready to let the world know about the things she’s said. “You know, that’s not the only thing you’ve said about Josh”

I give a loud sigh, rolling my eyes and pulling her hand away. “Fine”

During the whole ordeal, I notice Mike has to refill his glass, but everyone’s eyes are still on Sam, not seeing the small action.

Her cheeks are tomato red, and everyone continues asking questions about them, which both refuse to answer. Josh is still looking at me, a subtle smirk in the corner of his lips. His eyes don't falter, staring intensely, undressing me with his mind. His tongue wets his lips as his orbs go down… down…

“Next one!” Emily shouts, interrupting our mental fucking. Ashley is next, but doesn't have one ready yet. I lean over to Sam, smiling as I whisper. “I hope you took the last shot”

“Asshole” I fill her cup, urging her to do it. Her cheeks are still red, though most of us are getting messier and louder. This was a lot of alcohol, and the only ones not in deep were Matt, Ashley and Mike. Mike has a high tolerance, and the others hadn’t drunk much yet. I look over at Chris, and I think he had a few too many beers before we began. He’s still thriving though. Ashley finally finds a question, and Jess hushes us.

“Never have I ever broken in somewhere”

Matt and Josh drink alone, everyone eager yet again for them to spill the beans. Matt starts, not being shy about it.

“It wasn’t anything major, me and some other guys wanted to impress some girls with our skills, and the outside arena was freezing”

Hannah and Ashley smile, they already knows where this is going, and I do too.

“So, we managed to get the lock to the gym building open, and played inside for a couple of hours”

“And was it worth it?” Mike asks, giving him a wink. “Hell yeah!”

Everyone gives coos and whistles while Matt just shakes his head. This must be the most ‘Matty’ crime that could’ve been done.

“What about you Josh?” Beth asks, confused by when he’d broken in. I try to remember some time I knew about, but my mind is blank. I’m also eager to know this one.

“Well” he looks over at me again, and I give an encouraging smile. “Her apartment”

“What?”

I don’t know when he did this. Was I home? How long ago must it have been? He has a key, and he’s had that for a while.

“It’s not breaking in if you have a key” I say.

“What about the time I came through the window?”

“You’ve gone through the window?” I shout. This is news to me, when did he do this? Everyone in the room holds their breath, and some, their laughter.

“When I surprised you in the shower!”

I think back. Some weeks ago, he scared me in the shower. I figured that I just left the door open, but I guess not. I mean, he did more than scare me in there…

“You still went through the window??”

“I feel like you’re focusing on the wrong things”

“No, I’m not!”

Everyone bursts out laughing, not being able to hold it. I look around for support for my cause, but only Sam shrugs her shoulders to me.

“I guess I’ll be breaking in somewhere tonight”

“Not breaking in if I want you there”

“Okay guys, we’re almost done” Chris adds, and he’s right. There’s only him and Josh left now, and after that, we’ll go back to whatever conversations we had before, ready to party the rest of the night. Drinking more than we should.

“Never have I ever cleaned up my best friends house after fucking in it”

No one drinks.

“You’ve got to be serious, man” he whines, done with Josh’s shit.

“Sorry dude, I’ll do it next time”

“There should not be a next time!”

“Never will there ever be a next time in Chris’s place!” he shouts, and everyone drinks in solitary. Ashley does too, and the aggravation that was there is immediately filled with flushed cheeks and silence. They’re both adorable.

“Finally” I exclaim, getting up on my feet.

“Wait a second” Jess interrupts my exit. “We want to know more about you and Josh!”

“No way”

“Like, has he given you over three orgasms in a row?”

I look back, and Josh drinks. Everyone cheers and I walk to the kitchen to grab a beer. Jesus, this was gonna be a long night.

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syneilesis · 1 month ago

Text

[fic] Impact Factor

Impact Factor

Love and Deepspace | Zayne (Li Shen) x Main-Character!Reader | G | 4k words | ao3 link

god, i'm so lovesick. what have you done to me? You tell Zayne that you're co-authoring a research paper. He finds himself wanting and waiting to read it.

A/N: For @seraphiism 's 2024 writing event. I chose Lovesick by Laufey. I know. Zayne? Lovesick? Lmao I don't know if I pulled it off, but I have to write for Zayne at least once.

I gave this fic a single, cursory proofread. Any mistake is still my fault. Divider by @/saradika

“By the way, a professor of mine in college reached out to me last week and asked me if I was interested in co-authoring an article with her on the phenomenology of vocation of the people working in Hunters Association.”

The clacking of the keyboard is crisp and loud in the silverlined office, accompanied by the low hum of the airconditioner. Zayne's attention remains on the computer, updating your status condition. He makes a brief noise to indicate that he's listening, and when he takes his gaze away from the desktop he finds you watching him with a faint grin on your face.

“Do you want me to guess your reply?”

That faint grin grows wide and whole.

“What do you think?”

Zayne leans back and rolls his chair a little farther, reaching out to turn on the printer. The machine whirls to life, chatters.

“You accepted the offer, of course.” He returns to his laptop and clicks on the print icon. “You don't have the heart to refuse your professor.”

“Dr. Zayne, you know me so well.”

Something in the way you said it compels him to turn to you again. Your expression hasn't changed, but the fall of your hair frames your slightly narrowed eyes that sparkle under the bright fluorescent light, like rare midday stars. It staggers the beats of Zayne's heart for two seconds, seizes his throat, and in that sliver of a moment Zayne forgets to breathe.

“Maybe it's because you're transparent,” he says, after retrieving the prescription from the printer. He hands you the paper, and surprise stretches your features. He clarifies: “Supplements. Undoubtedly you will need it when you begin your research.”

“Nothing less from my doctor.” My. The word is malleable around your mouth. And then: “I'm transparent? Is that a bad thing?”

“It's not a flaw.” He signs the healthcare forms you passed onto him. “But neither is it a virtue.”

“Hmm. Then, I guess I'll watch myself.”

His head jerks at your response, and Zayne has something to say to that—something like your not needing to be conscious of how open you are—but then your watch beeps and you apologize for the sudden departure.

Alone in his office, Zayne sinks into his chair and closes his eyes.

▼

That exchange, brief yet odd, lingers in Zayne's mind, like a stone at the base of his brain, next to the stem and cerebellum. He can feel its weight, its matter, solid and bothersome that at one point Greyson stops and asks him, “Are you okay, Dr. Zayne? You seem to be distracted today.”

A flash of memory; the word transparent, your answer. Were it not for the emergency mission, he would have hastened to add that transparency is closely associated with sincerity—and that is a virtue. He imagines a version of you as secretive as a glacier, as closed-off as a fortress, and the dissonance it invites rings discordant in the history between you—you who have always reached out to him first.

His hands itch for the phone that's secluded in one of his drawers, away from distraction, from memory. Zayne is, after all, duty first, the rest a distant second.

“It's nothing,” he tells Greyson. “I'm fine.”

“Maybe it's time for a vacation? You've been busy—busier than usual—lately.”

“I'll take a vacation at the end of the year. Right now, you're needed in the meeting room for a briefing.”

When Greyson clears the area, Zayne turns and sees Yvonne near the entrance of the lobby, studying him, her face arranged in a way that invites him to defend himself for some reason. But he resists the irrational urge.

He meets her scrutiny with a long and stoic gaze, and she shakes her head, wordless, then continues on with her work.

Left in the hallway, Zayne sighs and goes back to his office.

▼

“Dr. Zayne!”

Shapes of different colors coalesce into your reflection on the glass that displays the myriad cakes Zayne's been deliberating upon for the last fifteen minutes. The figure looms larger and larger, until it sidles up next to him and he straightens up, turning to his side.

“What a coincidence,” you continue with a glancing smile, hand on your chin as you survey the available pastries for purchase. “Are you buying desserts too?”

Earlier, Akso Hospital had a rare moment of slowness that allowed its personnel to indulge in a breather, which afforded Zayne to clock out on time. As a treat—and he will never admit this to anyone—he's stopped by the bakeshop on the way home, and to his surprise, here you are as well.

To your question he can only give a noncommittal sound; then to the cashier he points at the sea salt caramel vanilla slice that he's wanted to try for a while now. Both you and the cashier let out an intrigued Oh! before the purchase is processed at the register.

“Sea salt caramel vanilla,” you say with an evaluatory seriousness, “good choice.”

Zayne pinches the bridge of his nose.

“By the way, I've started on the research project. Been doing some preliminary reading since I don't want to disappoint my former professor. So far I'm doing well—the supplements are a great help!”

The supplements. He had an inkling that, as you are wont to do with every mission, you were rushing into this project with all your mind and body, tunnel-visioned, only the end goal visible in your sights. This unfortunately excludes concerns regarding your health, and Zayne is correct: all nighters and skipped meals, both of which erode the state of a person's health. When you are focused on something, that something takes the highest priority, and he can't always be with you all the time to remind you to take a break, or eat healthy food, or drink water. Which is why: supplements. They're not preventative, but at least they mitigate.

And it seems you're telling the truth: no tightness in your eyes and tautness in the shape of your mouth. In this case—in the case of your aspiration to conceal—you have not changed—or at least attempted to hold yourself back. Something in his chest loosens, smooths the tenseness out of his muscles that Zayne hasn't realized is there.

This is something to ponder, but not at the moment.

“I don't have to remind you that supplements are not substitutes for healthy food and proper sleep, do I?”

“Of course not! Even I know that.” But then your expression turns sheepish. “In practice, that's a little ...”

Zayne pinches the bridge of his nose again.

“But don't worry too much about me, Dr. Zayne! I'm taking care of myself just fine!”

“That doesn't instill much confidence.”

“How about this, then?” And you face him fully, a ready smile brimming with its own confidence and assurance, as radiant as an aurora. “If something happens, you will be the first person I'll turn to.”

At that Zayne pauses. The easy trust you bring between the both of you warms his neck, the back of it, climbing up, up, up to the tips of his ears and to his cheeks. He moves on to the cashier, his back on you.

“Try not to let that 'something' happen, but I know you're too stubborn to listen.”

A chuckle, and then: “I can't make any promises, but I'll try.”

This time, Zayne turns back.

“'Try' implies effort, so I am expecting effort.”

You snap a salute, grinning. “Got it, Doc!”

▼

The day after that, Zayne begins to read up on the subject of phenomenology.

▼

It won't be a couple of weeks until Zayne sees you again—but this time it's under the harsh hospital lights and the din of frantic footsteps and rolling wheels, the mixed scents of blood and antiseptic stinging his nose. A Wanderer surge disrupted the southern part of Linkon, and of the hunters dispatched you had been one of them.

Zayne glides around the moving bodies, steps never faltering until he finds you tucked in a corner, cradling your broken arm.

When his shadow falls upon your involuted frame, you lift your head and a rueful grin greets him. Your glass-sheen gaze doesn't escape his scrutiny.

He's wearing his white coat, and both of his hands retreat into its pockets, where he closes them into tight fists. If Zayne tilts his head a little more to the right, he can see a lengthy gash that lines along your temple and into your scalp, covered by your blood-crusted hair. He is painfully aware that this is part and parcel of your profession, the risk that endangers a hunter during a mission. A part of him is thankful that today it is only a broken arm and a couple of wounds. It could have been much worse, and Zayne refuses to imagine a scenario where you come into the hospital drained of vitality. A frustrated sigh threatens to spill out of him, but he endures, and just pointedly shoots you a disappointed look.

“So this is all the effort that you mentioned just amounted to.”

“To be fair I was doing well for a couple of hours until I had to rescue a civilian trapped in a damaged building.”

“That is commendable.” And he means it. But—“Follow that nurse with the brown clipboard. He's in charge of injuries like yours. Can you walk that far?”

Your uninjured hand braces against the wall and you pull yourself up, the motion not quite fluid but not a slow stagger either. Zayne would have assisted you, but it seems that you can do it on your own.

“It's my arm that's broken, not my legs.” A wincing smile, and you start to make your way forward. “I know that you have to take care of other people, Dr. Zayne, but thanks for checking up on me.”

Behind him, a nurse calls his name, a signal to go back to his work. There are other patients who need his attention more than you do, and overall you seem fine, still put together. A broken arm can heal over time, given proper medical care. And Zayne knows, intimately, that Akso does not lack for anything.

Still. It's not entirely on purpose, but Zayne calls your name.

“I—” he begins, as you slow down to wait for whatever he's going to say. His throat struggles, constricting and opening in subconscious reflex. “I'd still rather not worry about you like this.”

In and around the space between you and him, the hospital remains astir—shadows and silhouettes slipping in and out of Zayne's sight—until they give way to the blossoming smile on your face, eclipsing everything from the back to the fore, a pinpoint mark on the map.

Later, even as he tends to his patients, your smile persists in Zayne's mind, an afterimage that refuses to disappear behind his eyelids.

▼

Exactly one week after that incident, Zayne receives a bouquet of jasmines and a box of banana bread. Attached to it is a pristine white card with a line written: Don't forget to take care of yourself too!

The card stays in his breast pocket well beyond his working hours, right next to his beating heart.

▼

Days pass, weeks, months, and Zayne finds himself browsing through phenomenology journals during his break in the hopes of seeing your name in one of them. He knows that you'll tell him once it's published, but there's a part of him that clamors for the first touch of knowledge, the letters that make up your name woven in the glowing screen of his tablet.

At the same time, Greyson and Yvonne have bitten into their suspicions—whatever they are, Zayne refuses to ask—and swallowed the succulence as if it's a juicy truth. Often he sees Greyson glancing at him with a shadow of a smile, a quick sleight of hand that when Zayne fully faces him his expression is already ironed out and professional. Yvonne is no better: all glimmering eyes and knowing grins and incessant questions about his mood. Once, he asked the reason for the barrage of questions and Yvonne ignored the frost in his voice and tittered, telling him that sometimes in life, they have to combat the monotony with exciting things.

It worries him somewhat that you and Yvonne and even Greyson have been getting along quite well for a time now.

But your name still doesn't appear, and it doesn't seem to be appearing in the foreseeable future. Still Zayne searches, his fingers already making a habit of typing your name in the bar, his heart beating for a yes.

▼

At some point, he's asked about your progress.

“It's been going well,” you answer. “Professor made some comments about the part in my results and discussion, so I'm going to revise that. I think we can submit it by next month if we maintain the pace.”

After a thoughtful pause, you rest your arms on his desk, cushion your chin on them, and angle him a sly look.

“Are you offering to proofread my work, Dr. Zayne?”

“I may need a box of red pens for that.”

That jolts a laugh out of you, and you recover by sending a mock pout his way.

“I’ll have you know that I was a diligent writer in college! I won in essay writing competitions!”

“Is that so? Then I suppose your first foray in academic publishing will be a successful ‘accepted with minor revisions’ reply from the editor.”

“Of course! Oh, fine, fine. I won’t ask you to proofread the manuscript. You can just wait until it’s published.”

A small, genuine smile. “I’m looking forward to it.”

▼

Eventually, he receives a text that says, We finally submitted the article! Now we just have to wait 🫣

He excuses himself from a cluster of medical professionals talking about the latest breakthroughs in oncology and parks himself beside the long table of drinks. He texts back: Watch out for Reviewer #2. They’re always the culprit.

It takes a full ten minutes before you reply, and during that period of anticipation four individuals have come up to him and attempted to pull him into a conversation about his accomplishments and recent research—one even braving to entice him into applying to another hospital.

Zayne shakes them off as politely as he can (and to that one poacher he gives a cold and resolute no). When his phone beeps, he turns away and redirects his undivided attention to the screen. All your latest message contains is a single salute emoji and the single-word sentence Gotcha! A laugh startles out of him, which Yvonne—having developed an eagle eye for Zayne in the recent weeks—notices and she scurries over to Greyson, bowing their heads in hushed whispers, glancing at him every now and then.

He's realized what they'd been talking about whenever he's in their vicinity, and he's tempted to refute their assumptions and retaliate accordingly. But the stone-weight in his mind had transformed into a persistent itch that does not choose when it strikes. In most cases it's merely annoying, but on rare occasions it is, frankly, merciless. A good-night text echoes in his dreams, and Zayne wakes with a thick sweetness coating the inside of his mouth. A fleeting touch from your worried hand burns the skin of his arm, the heat seeping into the layers until it reaches the subcutaneous tissue, where it spreads all over his body through the veins. He has to evade your glare to hide the ruddiness of his cheeks. Capitulation is the only option he had to choose in the end, and the idea of surrendering to this melts away the reflexive inquiry of when and how and why—a trait he had to hone as a doctor and a researcher.

What else is left when all the signs are pointing to this one immutable conclusion?

▼

On the day and hour your article is published Zayne is in the middle of a delicate surgery that takes him five hours and two hysterical family members of the patient—even with Evol involved. He emerges from the operating room with good news and exhausted-yet-relieved colleagues, Greyson's smile emerging from the doors the first indicator of a successful operation.

The patient's mother clings to him in tearful gratitude.

He orients the family on the next steps, and as he signs the healthcare forms he discovers a new slice of wound on the back of his hand, thin but lengthy. He has long since accepted that his hands, his arms, will forever be spattered with scars, and if that's the price he has to pay for saving lives, then it's of no consequence to him.

(Once, he had caught your gaze glued to his hands, so he snapped his fingers, startling you into looking at his face.

“What was that for?” you demanded.

“You're not paying attention.”

“I was just—” you bit your lip, torn. A pause, then: “Did they hurt—each one of them?”

He glanced down and studied each scar. Too many, you'd probably think. But not once had they bothered him.

“I never even noticed them in the first place, so no.”

“Okay.” Your eyes were crystal glass and the deep breath you took was stuttering in all its inelegance. “Okay.”)

A sliver of a break provides him the opportunity to sink into reprieve, and his hand gropes for his phone on the desk, peeking out under a sheaf of documents that he has to fill out later.

A cursory look at the screen, and then Zayne is leaping for the computer.

The research article you and your professor had written is kept behind a paywall. Zayne spares a moment to shut his eyes in irritation. He's fortunate that his university library account is still active, so he utilizes that privilege to gain access to the article’s full version, made available by the university’s database.

When the file loads, he syncs it to his tablet, after which he leans back on the chair and settles to read. He can locate which parts you had a hand in writing, and the parts where your style comes out. It isn't his field, but he has read enough to venture that the insights of this paper are valuable. Unwittingly, a proud smile surfaces on his lips.

At the end of the article, in the acknowledgment section, something is curiously written:

The co-author is grateful for the moral and medical support of Akso Hospital's Dr. Zayne. Dr. Zayne, would you like to have dinner with me? As a date. Yes, I'm asking you out.

Zayne’s mind blanks out and the itch returns, scrabbling at the walls of his skull, loud and frenetic and overwhelming all his senses. His entire body warms and the sensation of crawling needles prickle at his skin. Everything is white noise; his heart threatens to jump out of his ribcage. He gets the ridiculous thought that he can't perform a surgery on himself.

The next thing he knows, he's driving his car at the same time dialing your number. The car speakers amplify the ringing tone once his phone is attached to the dashboard. Both his hands tightly grip the steering wheel.

When the call connects, he opens with “What would you do if I hadn't read your article?”

He can practically hear the smile in your voice; it resounds around the car interior. “That's not an option, Dr. Zayne. You would have definitely read the article.”

Laughter bubbles up inside him; he tamps it down. “Confident now, are we?”

“Of course!” A pause; a shuffle of feet. You must be heading to another room. “I hear car engine, where are you now?”

“On the way to your apartment.”

“Wait, don't—go to this restaurant instead. I'll text you the address. I have it all reserved and ready.”

He blinks once, twice, surprise slackening the muscles on his face. “... You haven't even heard my answer yet.”

“You can tell me at the restaurant. And then we'll celebrate with excellent food, excellent wine, and scrumptious desserts.”

“You sound so certain about receiving a positive response.”

“I'm optimistic that way, Dr. Zayne. I'm heading out now—I'll see you in a bit!”

You hang up, and the speakers beep into silence. Two seconds later Zayne presses the hazard switch. The car slows down and then comes to a halt on the side of the road. Other vehicles zoom past him. Without the need to drive, Zayne can finally give in to the urge to exhale aloud and let out a brief yet astounded laugh, forehead pressing against the leather smoothness of the steering wheel.

You've always been transparent. But Zayne has made the crucial mistake of neglecting the fact that you are also clever. If this were a competition, you've already won.

▼

You're already at the restaurant when he arrives, sat on the corner facing the floor-to-ceiling windows, the shifting lights outside dancing over your serene profile. Your elbows rest on the table, where everything is already set up except the food. A vase of red roses at the center completes the picturesque scene.

You lift your head and welcome him with a triumphant grin once he's a few steps away. And when he settles on the chair opposite you, you lean forward and stare at him expectantly.

“You could have asked like a normal person,” Zayne begins.

“I could have,” you agree, nodding, “but I like it this way. I like to get closer to you through the things you do.”

Another moment of Zayne getting caught off-center: the warmth flushing outward from the core of his body like vibrant ink on clean, clear water. He has to lower his gaze from the sheer brilliance of your certainty, the way your patience and care have allowed this moment between the two of you, something that he has never imagined culminating like this: two people sitting opposite each other, in this softly lit restaurant while the world bursts into festive lights outside it. The tender way your hand moves across the table, stopping right before the flower vase, as if affording him the liberty to arrive at a decision Zayne has already made, many, many months (years) ago, just buried under the strata of responsibilities, boundaries, and improbabilities.

Never the when, never the how, never the why. It is, only, sublimely, this.

Zayne sighs with a rueful shake of his head. “It's not yet too late—maybe I should answer by publishing my own research article.” But the hand meeting yours belies his words.

Your smile: pleased, pleasure, like the sun emerging from the winter sky.

He's too occupied with the touch of your hand and the radiance of your expression that Zayne misses the throwaway comment that tumbles past his lips:

“If we're talking about getting closer through doing the things the other does, then I suppose I should propose to you when we're in the middle of a Wanderer invasion.”

And then he realizes what he just said.

Zayne whips his head up, heart in throat, and scrambles for an excuse. “What I meant was—”

“Getting ahead of ourselves now, are we?” Your face is pure indulgence, pure bliss. Your hand squeezes his, not letting go. “Don't worry, Dr. Zayne; I'm looking forward to it.”

And that lustrous smile, sustained. Zayne relaxes and you release him to clap your hands together, delighted.

“Now then! Shall we have our dinner?”

▼

(You have, indeed, delivered in all aspects: excellent food, excellent wine, and scrumptious desserts.)

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