#me: *nods* so she likes ice though huh....yeah I can see that being a thing | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ghostsy · 2 years ago

Note

I really liked what you did kirishima , would it be ok to request Yandere kirishima who slowly falls for the reader ? Kinda like a spotted mind , a slow burn Yandere (seriously love what you did with Shinso their ) hope this ok if not no worries 💗

Hero Insurance

WARNINGS: yandere, possessiveness, blackmail, misogyny, nsfw, smut, slight daddy kink, slight size kink, non-consensual implications

A/N: sorry this took so long, hope you enjoy!

read at your own discretion.

yandere ! KIRISHIMA EIJIRO X READER

“We have got to stop meeting like this.”

“When you stop smashing your way through half the city’s architecture, we will.” She didn’t look up from her clipboard to see the sheepish look washing over the hero’s face, cheeks nearly red as his hair, from previous exertion or embarrassment, she didn’t know–didn’t care.

She sighed, but turned to oversee the construction workers picking their way through the rubble–Jesus Christ, this was going to cost a fortune.

She sent a mental apology to the poor insurance accountants who she was sure were as sick of these heroes as she was–nevermind the half-rate villain being led away in chains somewhere in the background, yelling obscenities and threats and contributing significantly to her growing headache. Annoying.

He trailed after her, “Hey, uh,” She spared him a cursory glance, and he swallowed, “Let me…I can totally help pay for this; it’s uh…the manly thing to do.” She rolled her eyes, turning back to watch a crowd gather at the borders of the police tape secured around what was left of the building and its surrounding area.

“That’s hardly necessary, sir–”

“We’ve been over this, call me–”

“Besides, if you were to personally pay for all the property damage you have committed, say, throughout your career,” She scribbled something down on the clipboard, before shoving it in his face, “You would owe the city approximately…this much.”

She swore his eyes nearly bulged out of his head, and was internally amused as he leaned down and followed zero after zero after zero on the paper with his finger. He stood suddenly, clearing his throat, and avoided her gaze.

“Well, I…” He sighed, searching for the words, “I’m sure I could–”

“Oi! Shitty hair,” His savior came in the form of a familiar gravelly voice, “Get your ass over here! I’m sick a’ these damn reporters.”

Letting out a sigh of relief, he gave her a brief nod before hurrying off to the hoards of adoring fans. She rolled her eyes, turning back to inspect the damage. Well…another day, another massive disaster to fix.

.♡.

“I swear if I have to see that chick one more time,” He huffed, downing his drink, “‘M not sure my manhood could take it.”

“You talkin’ about the Ice Queen again?” He glanced towards the peppy blonde man shoving his way through the doors, and into the bar.

“That insurance lady?” The black haired man at his side questioned, “Ain’t it the third time this month she’s been up your shit?” He laughed, “She must be hurtin’ for it, huh?”

He huffed, averting his gaze, “Hardly,” A shiver passed down his spine in remembrance, “Everytime I see her I feel like I’m getting scolded by my grade school teacher or something.”

“Real sexy grade school teacher, though, huh?” The lightning blonde jeered.

He rolled his eyes, “It’s not like I’m the only hero who’s knocked down a building or two, right?” He turned to the other blonde who scoffed.

“Don’t look at me,” He downed a shot, “I avoid the bitch like the plague; I don’t need another asshole slappin’ me on the wrists fer doin’ my job–press does that for her.”

“I just…” He huffed, “I don’t like that she doesn’t like me,” He turned to his friends, “I’m…I’m a likable guy, aren’t I?”

He was met with laughs, making his cheeks burn as he groaned. He waited as they settled before downing another drink. The raven-haired man ruffled his hair in mock comfort.

“Guess you’ll find out just how likable at this year’s Hero Billboards, yeah?”

.♡.

The universe really did like playing some cruel jokes on him lately, huh? He stared up at the soulless glass building that towered over him–a few signatures missing from the insurance forms. Ha. Of course. Hero work ain’t always takin’ down bad guys and savin’ princesses in their towers, kids.

He huffed, and forced himself inside, hands clenching and unclenching as he stood in the elevator, watching the floors climb. In and out.

God, why was he so nervous? A flash of those dull, condescending eyes; he was surprised she hadn’t turned him to stone the second she’d met his gaze. Weren’t women supposed to be meek and soft?

The lady at the reception desk had certainly seemed so; the way she batted her eyelashes, voice coated in sugar–yeah, that made sense to him–when they looked at him all starry-eyes and empty heads.

He tried to imagine the Ice Queen like that–she did have pretty eyes–what would happen if she looked at him with something other than irritation–nope, too creepy, get that out of my head.

He passed by the main room: dozens of nameless heads and shoulders, hunched over their desks, typing away at computers from within their gray cubicles. Depressing. Turning down a hallway he was met with a row of doors–where was her office, again?

The sound of laughter cut through his thoughts. Children’s laughter? As if on cue, a rush of tiny, unsteady footsteps padded across the floor and straight into him–well, his legs. A soft thud and ‘oof’ brought his gaze down.

“I’m sorry! So sorry, Mister Hero!” A small boy was rubbing his head from his fallen place back on the floor. He stood, brushing himself off, before placing his small hands against the man’s legs, mimicking a sort of soothing motion.

“So sorry. This feel better? All better now?”

He went to respond, but a familiar click of heels interrupted, and the Ice Queen was standing in front of him, leaning down to face the child as a sigh escaped from her lips.

Before she could speak he opened his mouth; he really didn’t want to watch her scold the little boy for being…well, a little boy, “It was an accident,” He ruffled the child’s hair, and the latter giggled, “Really, no harm done.”

She glanced up at him from her position crouched on the floor, brows furrowing as her head tilted in confusion, before turning back to the child, “You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?”

Oh? This was strange. The look on her face wasn’t stern, and her voice was quieter, softer. Kind of…sweet? He must be hearing things.

“Nope!” The boy popped his ‘p’, giving a big, toothy smile, “But Mister Hero got a boo boo; you gotta kiss it better!”

His face burned. It was hard to imagine anyone, forget that it was a child, talking so warmly with the woman in front of him.

“Mister Hero’s a tough guy,” She told the boy, “Besides, I can only kiss your boo boos better.”

“Really?”

“Mhmm,” She stood, taking his small hand in her own, “Really. But if you keep running off like that, I’ll run out of kisses. So be more careful. We have to save them for when you really need ‘em, okay?”

“Okay!”

She turned to face him, clearing her throat as she averted her gaze. No. She couldn’t be. Was the Ice Queen, of all people, flustered?

“Sorry for the inconvenience.” She muttered, bowing slightly before motioning with her head towards an office door in the far corner, “I have all the documents in my office; shouldn’t take long.”

He blinked, opening his mouth to respond, but she turned on her heel, shoes clicking down the hallway as the little boy swung their interlocked hands to and fro. Cute.

She held the door open for him, though he still had to hunch as he walked through the opening. He took in the scene: neat mahogany desk, floor to ceiling windows, shelf, children’s toys littering the floor–children’s toys? The little boy detached from the woman, diving towards one of the brightly colored stuffed animals.

The man maneuvered his way towards the desk, slipping slightly when his foot met a toy car. She caught his arm, eyes still avoiding his own, and her face twisted in a frown.

“The daycare closes early on weekends, no one to watch him, I–” She swallowed, arm pulling from his own the second he collected himself, “It’s not usually this messy,” She huffed the words as if they were shameful to admit before composing herself, shaking her head a bit. “The papers are on the desk.” She ushered him forward, sifting through her drawers before taking out a pen, pressing it into his hand.

He cleared his throat, nodding, “It’s–That’s fine,” He leaned down to sign, striking up conversation to fill the painful silence between them, “Is this your, uh, is this your son?”

She shot him a sharp look, and he was sure if looks could kill he’d burst to flames that very moment. He swallowed, flipping the page to add another signature. Through his periphery, he caught sight of a look exchanged between the woman and child before she sighed.

“Yes.” He waited a moment for her to continue only to be met with silence. Wow. A real open book, wasn’t she?

Flipping through the pages, he double checked the signatures. Sighing, he stood, nodding to her, “Sorry about that, thought the agency’d taken care a’ all the paperwork.”

She rolled her eyes, gathering them in her hands, scanning through the pages before taking something from her desk drawer, and stamping the top page. Setting it in a file on the desk, she met his gaze.

“Thank you,” She cleared her throat, “In the future, hopefully we don’t end up in a situation needing to fill out more paperwork.”

Geez, that's cold. “Yeah, uh, sorry again.” He turned to leave, but a tug on his pant leg caught his attention.

“Hey, hey, Mister Hero,” The little boy waved a toy car in his hand, “Wanna play cars?”

“He has things to do, baby,” The woman interrupted, “I can play with you all you want later.”

“But you’re working now!” He huffed, “Please, please, just for a little–”

“I don’t mind.” He surprised himself and her with the words, but a glance to the little boy’s face brought a smile to his own. He always did like kids.

She looked between them, hesitant, teeth chewing her lip before speaking, “It’s really–you don’t have to. Really, it’s–it’s okay.” Who knew she could sound sheepish. He was learning a lot about the Ice Queen today, it seemed.

He plopped on the floor, cross legged as he took the car handed to him, flashing her a smile, “You kidding?” He turned back to the child, “I love playin’ cars.”

The little boy squealed in delight, and in his periphery he caught sight of a soft look in her eyes, “Thank you.” It was quiet, but the ghost of a smile on her face made something in his chest do a little jump.

.♡.

“You received a package from the insurance agency today, sir.”

He glanced towards his secretary, brows furrowed. God, what did he do this time? He rubbed a hand down his face, groaning, but she continued.

“It’s strange,” She tapped her chin, “There was a note attached; I think it was from that lady that doesn’t like you,” A mischievous smile on her lips, “I left it on your desk.”

“Great. Thanks.” He trudged down the hallway to his office; it was too early in the morning for this.

As he pushed the door open he caught sight of it: wrapped neatly in red colored paper, a thin ribbon tying it together. Huh. There was a neat little note attached, his hero name written in pretty cursive on the front.

Please accept this food as thanks.

I appreciate you humoring my son; he really enjoyed spending time with you.

He also wanted me to inform you that you’ve become his new favorite hero.

I was unaware of your food preferences, but I hope this is sufficient.

Only the Ice Queen could manage to make such a kind gesture seem impersonal. Still, he found himself smiling; underneath all that frost and cold she really was a cute little thing, wasn’t she? It was signed with her name at the bottom, and he realized he hadn’t known it until now; it was kind of pretty, he thought.

He pulled the ribbon from the box, and the paper fell away to reveal a neatly stacked bento box. Peeling the top layer, he was met with a mouthwatering smell. Meat. Fancy little dishes prepared delicately, with care. The other levels contained vegetables and sweets, all meticulously decorated. It was a practical gift, he supposed, but still, she’d taken the time to cook him a meal.

How��womanly of her.

.♡.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

She didn’t think she’d ever sprinted so fast in her life, sure she might break a heel, though, not entirely bothered considering the circumstances. A villain attack. At a goddamn preschool. At her son’s goddamn preschool. Fuck.

There it was. Cordoned off with yellow police tape, a crowd was gathering outside the gates, reporters or parents or both, she didn’t really care.

“Kenta! Kenta! My son–have you seen my son? Please–” She elbowed her way to the front of the crowd, flagging down a police officer stationed outside.

“Ma’am, please step back. There is an active villain threat in–”

“My son’s in there, please.”

“There are a lot of parents here; if you’d just step back–”

There was a crash that sounded like a wrecking ball hitting pavement, and everyone watched with bated breath as one of the walls to the building crumbled away, bricks splitting and breaking from the force.

As the dust settled, she watched as a massive figure stepped from the rubble. Wait a minute. Is that…? He was carrying kids from his arms and shoulders, some hanging on with their hands as they dangled from his limbs–he looked like a fucking jungle gym–

“Mama! Mama! Look who’s here!” The unmistakable voice of her son pulled her from her thoughts. From atop the hero’s shoulder, Kenta was waving his arms, giggling as he called to her.

“All clear!” The man shouted, a sharp, toothy smile on his lips as he scanned the crowd, motioning with his head to the nearly collapsed building behind him, “He’s passed out in the southeast classroom, figured I’d gather the kids first.”

The police made their way into the building as he kneeled down to let the children race from the rubble, and into the arms of their parents. She ducked under the yellow tape, eyes set on the little boy sat on the hero’s shoulder.

“Heh. Sorry ‘bout the wall; couldn’t help the –oof!”

Without thinking, she threw her arms around his shoulders, on her tiptoes as she embraced her son, the other hand hooked around the man’s neck, pulling him downwards a bit into a hunch, so that she could reach.

She was shaking a little, and he wasn’t entirely sure where to put his hands, though, glad that she couldn’t see the red creeping up his neck and cheeks. Awkwardly, one of his hands came to pat her on the back, which seemed to bring her back to reality as she stumbled a bit aways from him.

She cleared her throat, holding out her hands, and he shifted so that the boy could shuffle into his mother’s arms.

She checked his face for marks, “Are you okay?” Inspecting his arms for any signs of cuts or bruises, “Did you get hurt?”

He gave a bright smile, “I’m okay!” He giggled a bit, and she set him down, letting him bounce in excitement on the ground, “You shoulda seen it, Mama! He was so cool; the bad guy was like–” He made an angry face, squaring his shoulders, and growled as he brought his hands into a fighting pose, “But then, but then, boom! And then–”

“I want to hear all about it, baby,” She smiled, “But let’s get you home first, yeah? You’ve got dirt all over you.”

“Mhmm mhmm, okay! But it makes me look cool, right?”

“Super cool,” She turned to the hero now, and he swallowed, willing the heat to die on his cheeks, “I’m sorry that I just–I didn’t mean to throw myself on you, but really, what you did–”

“Just the job,” He smiled, hand coming to sheepishly scratch his head, “Happy to do it, honest.”

“No,” she corrected, and he found himself holding his breath as he studied the intensity in her stare. But he didn’t feel like she’d turn him to stone; he kind of felt…warm? “Thank you. Really. I can’t ever repay you for this.”

“Well, you’re probably gonna have to deal with the insurance money and rebuild, so just add it to my tab, and I’ll call us even, yeah?”

There was a small smile on her face, “Consider your tab cleared.” Was his heart pumping so loudly from the adrenaline or because the quirk in her lips made her whole face brighter? Was that her quirk? Could she speed up his pulse, so that his heart beat out of his chest?

He went to say something, but the sound of his hero name being shouted over the police tape–reporters–interrupted.

He sighed, giving her a nod, “Well, duty calls,” He gave her one more glance as he walked away, “I’ll, uh, I’ll see you?” It sounded casual, but he found himself suddenly nervous.

“Well, if you keep smashing your way through half the city’s architecture, you will.” He didn’t know she had a sense of humor, but, spotting the playful glint in her eyes, he found it kind of…cute.

.♡.

“There’s someone here to see you, sir,” His secretary called as he stepped from the elevator, “It’s that insurance lady, again.” She wiggled her eyebrows a bit in teasing, and he found his face warming as he avoided her gaze. Another bento, maybe?

“Thanks, uh, you can let her in.”

“Oh, I already did,” There was a smug smile on her face, “She’s in your office.”

He groaned, ignoring her cheeky laugh as he made his way into his office.

“Oh!” She called after him, “The Commission called. They wanna know if you’re confirming for the Hero Billboards?”

He nodded, waving his hand in placation, “Yeah. I’ll be there.”

Pushing the door to his office open, he found himself staring at her profile; she was half turned away from him, gazing out the floor to ceiling windows, and he almost didn’t want to say anything, lest he disturb the peaceful look on her face.

His eyes wandered her figure; she really was a woman, wasn’t she? In every sense of the word. Remembering how she felt in his arms, soft too. Soft and small and pretty and womanly. His hands itched at his sides. How would it feel to hold her?

Squeezing the skin of her waist, brushing his thumbs over the bones of her hips; it’d be so easy to pick her up, hands sliding down a bit further, throwing her legs around his waist; she was already against the window; what other expressions could he see on her face, then? Shaking himself from his thoughts, he felt a bit embarrassed. But, he was a man; it was normal to think like this about a woman, right?

She caught sight of him as she turned, and immediately a new look took over her face; it wasn’t an expression he entirely enjoyed, however. She looked agitated, upset, and she squeezed at the fat of her arms as she crossed them, nervous.

“We need to talk.” She pulled something from her purse, unfurling it to reveal a tabloid magazine. More specifically, a picture slapped on the cover: the two of them embracing outside the pre-school, his hand placed on her back, making it look like an altogether domestic scene.

And the title: “THE STURDY HERO BREAKING DOWN WALLS AND BREAKING HEARTS; DON’T RIOT, GIRLS, BUT HE’S TAKEN!” Real creative.

He swallowed his nerves, laughing off the tension, “Yeah, I heard about that,” Avoiding her gaze, “I’m real sorry–the tabloids just print whatever sells, ya know?”

“Can you have them retract it?” He was almost offended with how quick she was to shoot it down, “Please,” Sensing his nerves, she sighed, gathering her thoughts, “Kenta is…He’s not ready for this, even if it is just tabloid gossip. Please, can you ask them to retract it?”

“I–”

“Or if not,” She began pacing, “Can you do an interview? Before this gets out of hand, it’d be best to clear things up.”

He approached her, taking her by the arms lightly to stop her pacing. She pulled from his grip, but stood still. He scanned her face as he looked down at her, and a thought too selfish crossed his mind. No. Don’t go there.

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay,” He soothed her; this would be fine, “I’ll tell the press; you don’t gotta worry.”

She let out a sigh of relief, and he bit his tongue. Was it manly of him to just let it lie? In all those romance movies he watched, the guy always fought for the girl. He used whatever elaborate plots he could to show her he was the one. And, I mean, maybe it’d be good for both of them. He needed to figure out why he couldn’t look her in the eyes without imagining bending her over the nearest surface anymore.

“But,” He avoided her gaze, “I, uh, geez, this is embarrassing.”

She tilted her head, but motioned for him to continue.

“The, uh, you know the Hero Billboards are coming up soon?”

“Yes,” She squared her shoulders as her gaze turned suspicious, “What about it?”

“I think if, well, if I ask for a retraction before, it might tank my popularity ranking,” He swallowed, “Which, totally, is just a number–and not a big deal–I just, would you mind…is it unmanly of me to ask you if we could wait until it’s over to tell the press?”

There was a beat of silence, and he cursed himself in his mind. Of course she’s gonna say no. It’s the Ice Queen we’re talkin’ about. Just cause she’s got a kid, and she makes a killer tori katsu, and her ass bounces when she–

“Okay,” She sighed. What? She met his gaze, nodding, “I did say I could never repay you, didn’t I?”

“I don’t want you to feel like you have to–”

“But, um,” She swallowed, “Kenta was asking about you,” Avoiding his gaze, she cleared her throat, “Do you think you could, um, do you think you could take him out on patrol? Even just once, I think he’d…if it’s not too much trouble–”

God, she was fucking adorable.

“You kidding?” His lips split in a wide grin, “I’d be honored. He’s, uh, he’s a good kid. You’ve done good.”

“It’s a deal, then.” There was that soft smile again, and on cue, his heart sped its rhythm.

“It’s a deal.”

.♡.

The office felt strangely empty after she left. He couldn’t focus. The lights were too bright. His chair was lumpy. The font on the paperwork was too small. His pants didn’t fit right. Oh. His pants didn’t fit right.

He glanced around the office. It was fine, right? It’d just take a moment. Be real quick. Just to ease the tension. It’d help him focus after, for sure.

Fuck it.

He stood suddenly, shutting the blinds to his office; he was pent up. It was her fault to begin with, really. Settling into his chair, he let out a breath, hand creeping under the waistband of his pants, fingers trailing down from the black hairs to grip at the pulsating, desperate source of his current agony, feeling near immediate relief as he began to stroke.

He wanted to take her against the window, didn’t he?

Her thighs squeezing his waist as his fingers dug into the flesh of her ass, cock buried to the hilt inside what was undeniably warm and tight and hers. He’d fuck her deep and slow at first. Savor the feel of her wrapped around him. Make what she thought was hers irrefutably his; mold her pretty cunt to the shape of him. He wouldn’t be able to keep the pace though, ramming her against the glass walls for all of Japan to see, to hear her scream his name. How would she sound if he sunk his teeth into her neck? What would she call him?

Baby?

Love?

Daddy?

“Oh, fuck.” His thumb stroked the angry red tip threatening to burst in his pants, tightening his vice-grip, fingers flexing along the length. Up and down and up and down to the rhythm he’d fuck her to. Faster and Faster. Harder and harder.

Daddy, please! She’d take her lip between her teeth, try and fail to stifle the sounds he was forcing from her throat. A hand tangled in his hair, tugging to find some sense of relief as he hauled her over his desk to play with the jewel between her legs.

He’d leave a trail of bruises down her chest; take one of her pretty tits in his mouth, playing with the nipple on his tongue. Hips snapping roughly into hers as he felt her pulse quicken, breath choked as her hands came to clutch his shoulders, nails sinking in to ease the tension.

He’d make her beg for it.

“Tell Daddy what you want.” His eyes fell closed, hips bucking into his fist as he imagined it. He’d take his hand to her throat, fingers twitching at the feel of her pumping veins, thumb tracing her jaw as he watched doe eyes dilate. Lose all thought save for anything that had to do with him, and how he was fucking her, and how that feeling pooling in her gut was something only he could give her.

Please, Daddy, please! Let me cum. Can I cum?

She’d cry, pretty tears pooling in her eyes as she tried to hold on. Obey him. Please him. Cum for him. All for him.

“Yeah? You wanna cum? You think you deserve it?”

Yes! Please, Daddy! Please!

Her tits would rock from the force as his desk creaked to the rhythm below them. His tongue darting out to lick at his sharp, drooling canines, completely enamored with the feast moaning prettily underneath him.

He’d lean down, forcing his lips onto hers as his tongue explored inside, devouring the sounds from her throat. And he’d pull back once he was sure he could feel her tighten around him, hot air brushing against her lips when he finally released her.

“Cum for me, baby.”

He’d watch her eyes cross, mouth falling open as the knot in her stomach snapped. That Ice Queen exterior melted and soft and grateful. She’d whimper, and look up at him from under her butterfly lashes with hazy, pleasure-drunk eyes, lips bloated and hair sprawled beneath her like an angel’s halo.

“What do you say, baby?”

Thank you, Daddy. I love you.

Shit. Shit. Shit. He bit his lip, brows furrowing as the slick on his hand made his gut start to tingle. Fuck. His shoulders slumped as he caught his breath, surveying his mess. That’s alright, he thought.

It was her job to clean up his messes, wasn’t it?

.♡.

“Oh,” She blinked as she opened the door, “What time is it? Wasn’t I supposed to meet you at your office?”

Nervously, she glanced over her shoulder to a wall clock in the living room. He huffed an apologetic laugh, doing his best to ignore the way the apron wrapped snugly around her waist hugged her curves, and the splotches of flour that reminded him of the labors of a dutiful housewife.

“Nah, you’re good,” He motioned with his head to the boy sitting atop his shoulders, one hand steadying the child, “Kenta was hungry, and there isn’t much ‘sides energy drinks and granola bars at the agency.”

“We saw a whole buncha bad guys, Mama! They were tryna rob the bank, and–”

“You were inside a bank during a robbery?” He caught the sharp turn in her voice, and was quick to correct the child.

“He was safe behind the barricades,” She stepped aside to let them in, “Got a front row seat, right buddy?”

“Mhmm!” He set the child down, and Kenta raced towards the kitchen, “Smells good! What’s for dinner?”

They shared a look as she shut the door, and let out a sigh, “Thank you,” She swallowed, “I’m…He looks like he had fun, so I’m really–”

“Don’t mention it,” He smiled, “Next week’s patrol route should be safer if he wants to tag along.”

“That’s–you really don’t need to…” Was the flush on her face embarrassment or, or was he finally starting to chip that icy exterior? “Are you sure it’s–”

“Oh yeah,” He glanced towards the boy sifting through cabinets in the kitchen, “Kenta’s my number one sidekick, right?”

“Mm!” The boy turned towards them, face stuffed with some pastry as he hummed.

“Kenta!” She scurried over to him, shutting the lid to the cookie jar, “We’re just about to have dinner; don’t go ruining your appetite!”

“‘M not!” He stifled a laugh as he watched the boy cross his arms petulantly, “I got two stomachs; one for food and then a whole ‘nother big one for desert!”

She smiled lightly as she watched him shove two fingers in her face before putting her hands up in mock concession, “Oh, well, it’s a pity that Mama’s only got one stomach then, huh?” Making her way over to the impressive spread on the dining room counter, “I better dig in while I can.”

She plucked a piece of sushi from one of the platters, and he swallowed as he watched her push it between her lips with her fingers, tongue brushing over the tips as she pulled them from her mouth. He tried to will himself to look away, though, she was entirely too focused on the little boy now jumping for the sushi platter to bother with his own leering.

“Not if I do first!” He watched as the boy practically inhaled the food, attention drawn back at the sound of light laughter. Her hand was covering her mouth, but the twinkle in her eye sent lightning into his heart. Pretty.

He huffed a sigh to calm his racing pulse, “Guess I’ll leave ya to–”

“You gotta stay for dinner!” Face stuffed full with an array of food, Kenta’s words were muffled, “Right, Mama?”

He glanced towards her, taking in her hesitant features. Not yet.

“Ah. That’s alright, I don’t–”

“Stay,” He was taken aback by the softness of the word, “I mean…if you’d like, as a thank you for taking Kenta out, stay.”

Fuck. This woman would be the death of him.

.♡.

“You really didn’t have to do this.” She looked at him through the corner of her eye as she handed him another wet dish to towel off.

“Nah, I owe ya for that killer dinner,” He paused, “Come to think of it; I owe ya for the bento too, Ms. Pro Chef.”

She rolled her eyes playfully before turning back to the sink, and the two settled into a comfortable silence before she paused, mouth twisting a bit as her brows furrowed.

“I appreciate everything you’ve done for Kenta,” She let out a sigh, turning to face him as she shut the tap, “But um, this is, a bit…” She motioned around the kitchen, the wholly domestic scene, “Hero Billboards or not, the two of us aren’t actually…”

He watched as she struggled to find the words, “‘Course not,” Stamping out the sprouting disappointment in his chest, he plastered on that hero smile, “But what’s a dinner between friends, right?”

He watched as the trepidation melted off her face. Was the thought of being with him really that bad? Shaking himself from his thoughts he sighed as he watched her maneuver behind him to start reshelving the cutlery and plates.

“Yeah. Friends.” She sent him a soft smile, and he found himself the slightest bit surprised that it hadn’t melted his heart on cue. He wanted more.

She was bent over the counter in a way too sinful to be a coincidence. Was she testing him? Waiting for him to take initiative, prove to her that he was a man? He wouldn’t leave her high and dry the way so many others in her life seemed to–he could be that guy for her.

Eyes trailing to the swell of her backside, he spotted her dress lifted slightly at the fat of her thighs. Would she look at him then? If he took her by the hair, forced her cheek to the counter, smushed her pretty tits against it, and ripped the cotton panties down her legs?

He was sure, looking down at her; she was so small. She’d fucking wail when he forced his cock through her walls. Maybe he could see himself poking through under the skin of her stomach: full of him.

He’d destroy her.

Ruin her for anyone and everyone else. How many times had she chided him for his reckless behavior, for the destruction his hands had wrecked?

He’d repay her tenfold. Those hands could do more than destroy. They’d make her cum again and again and again. Until the only thought running through her mind was him and how good he was fucking her and how goddamn grateful she was to be fucked by, to be loved by, him.

The call of his name brought him back from his thoughts, and he looked over to meet her concerned eyes.

��Are you alright?” She closed the gap between them, and lifted to her toes, tapping his shoulder to bring him down a bit before she pressed her hand to his forehead, “You’re a little flushed; are you sick?”

Well, with you this close to me, I fucking might be.

He straightened suddenly, “Nah,” Letting out a sheepish laugh, “Must be the long hours. Hero work ain’t always the most forgivin’, I guess,'' He huffed a sigh, “I should get goin’ though, yeah?”

“Yeah,” She watched as he made his way to the door, “Okay.”

“I’ll be by some time to take Kenta out on patrol, if that’s still alright?”

She nodded as he slipped his shoes on, and was left a bit confused at the abrupt close to the evening with the click of her front door falling shut.

He let out a breath as he closed the door, leaning against the wood to regain his composure as his hand ran through his hair. He could do this. He stretched his arms over his head as he headed down the steps of her porch.

The cold night air soothed the warmth in his cheeks, but it seemed that a fire more insatiable had been lit in his chest. He strolled casually down the sidewalk, eyes trained up at the grinning moon, making sure to hide the mirroring smirk that pulled at his lips as the camera flashed from the bushes. Right on cue.

.♡.

“I need to get a new secretary.” He joked as he shut the door to his office, catching sight of the woman in his office.

“I don’t think I can do this anymore.” Her mouth was set in a line, hands pulling nervously at her sleeves as her arms crossed.

What?

She began pacing, “I’m really sorry,” She avoided his gaze, “I know you’ve done a lot for Kenta, for me, and I can pay you back with however much you–”

“Woah, woah,” He approached her, stopping her nervous pacing, “What’s goin’ on? Tell me what happened.”

She sighed, looking up to meet his gaze, and he noticed for the first time eye bags forming on her face.

“Paparazzi are showing up to Kenta’s preschool,” She huffed, “Taking pictures of him playing outside, trying to ask him questions.”

His eyebrows raised a bit in shock, but he softened his gaze, “I’m so sorry,” He went to guide her to sit down, “I’ll take care of it, promise.”

He didn’t like where this was going. So she wasn’t in love with him yet. Okay. He just needed more time. She couldn’t leave.

She pushed his hand off her shoulder, “It’s not just that,” She swallowed, “They’re everywhere, at my office, at the daycare, anywhere we fucking go; they’re even showing up at the house.”

“It’s oka–”

“How do they even know where I live?” Her brows knit together, “You know there are pictures of you leaving? At night?”

“I didn’t–”

“Do you know how indecent that makes me look?” She rubbed her hands down her face, breathing out his name, “I’m already a single mother; I don’t need the entirety of Japan questioning any more of my integrity, certainly not questioning my son.”

Wouldn’t most women be flattered by the attention? Whatever; he needed to end this before it got out of hand.

“You’re right,” He placated, “Look,” He sighed, “The Hero Billboards are next week,” Just a little longer and they’d be there; she just wasn’t ready yet, “We only gotta have one more public appearance, and–”

“Public Appearance?” Her voice turned sharp, “You want me to be your fake date, in front of the whole country, just so you can save your ranking?” Her eyes flashed in accusation, “Have you been listening to what I–”

“Enough,” Fuck, he was getting fed up. Didn’t she know how much he cared about her? How much he did for her? “I have been listening; it’s your turn.”

“Excuse me–”

He stepped forward, backing her against the window, and an uneasy look settled on her face. Was this what it took? He just needed to show a little dominance. Be the man. And she would listen. He placed his hand above her on the glass as he leaned down.

“One more week,” Bringing his other hand to her face, one finger outstretched, “That’s all I’m askin’.”

She went to open her mouth, but he shushed her. Oh. This felt kinda good. The way she was looking at him. Hanging on to his every word because, right now, he had the power.

“I’m not done,” He breathed, “One more week. I’ll take care a’ the paparazzi. I’ll take care a’ everything. So–”

Her mouth twisted, a conflict growing in her eyes, but she forced the words in spite of it, “I don’t need you to take care of it. I don’t need you to take care of me. I need you to–”

“Oh, you don’t?” His tone turned mocking, and his teeth bit into his lip as he watched her swallow, “Let’s ask Kenta how much he needs me, why don’t we? You really gonna–”

“You are not his father.” The words were firm, but the tensing of her shoulders betrayed her, and he leaned closer.

“I’m the closest thing he’s got, baby.”

The shock washed over her features before settling on anger. Cute. She pushed him off her. Well, he let her. She was such a weak little thing, after all.

“So this is who you are?” She scoffed, “This,” She motioned between them, “Is over. I refuse to entertain whatever misogynistic tirade you’ve decided to indulge in.” Okay. Less cute.

She made her way to the door, glancing briefly over her shoulder, “Do not attempt to contact me or my son again.” And she was gone.

Well shit.

His tongue smacked against his teeth as he kept his gaze on the door. He was tryna show her that he was the man. He could take care of her, of everything. All she had to do was shut the fuck up and let him. Does she know how many women would kill for that?

He’d earned it. He’d done so much. He’d tried being patient. Tried to go at her pace. Be a gentleman. But, he realized, brats don’t want gentlemen. That’s what she was after all. What she’d always been, he realized. Ice Queen. Queen? The thought made him want to laugh now.

Is that what she wanted? For him to take her over his knee, smack that pretty ass ‘till it was black and blue? Make her cry for her Daddy? Put her in her goddamn place; wash out all her sharp, angry words with his cock shoved down her throat.

Force her to her knees?

Okay. He could do that.

.♡.

“What do you mean someone picked him up?”

“Well,” The preschool teacher swallowed nervously, “He said that you had–”

“He?” Her blood went cold, and in a quiet voice, she breathed his name in question.

“Yes!” The other woman smiled, “So you did approve of–”

She didn’t hear the rest of the words, blood rushing in her ears. She felt sick. What was going on? What kind of joke was this? She stumbled her way out of the gates, collapsing against them outside. Nauseous.

She tried to calm her breathing. He was still a hero. A fucking asshole with no sense of boundaries. But a hero. Right?

She took her hands to her cheeks, smacking herself to calm down. She let out a breath, swallowing the tears as she fumbled through her purse for her phone.

Ring ring! Ring ring! Ring–

“He–”

“Where do you get off?” She couldn’t help the words that spilled from her throat, “Kenta is my son; what you’re doing is essentially kidna–”

“Hey, sweetheart.” She could hear the smugness in his voice, and cursed herself for allowing herself to think for one second he might have been a decent human being.

“Where is–”

“Is that Mama?” She heard the excited voice of her son, and her breath hitched.

“Kenta? Kenta! Where are–”

“Yup!” He interrupted, “Don’t worry, bud. We’ll be seein’ Mama real soon, right?”

“Mhmm!” Came the muffled reply. So she wasn’t on speaker. Good.

“If you don’t tell me where he is right now,” The words were shaky, “I’ll call the fucking cops.”

There was a beat before a deep, baritone laughter filled her ears. He sighed, and she could feel the goddamn smile on his face.

“Hey, Kenta!” He called, “You wanna tell Mama what we’re doin?”

“S’ a surprise!”

“Hear that?” He turned back to the phone, “It’s a surprise. Don’t you worry, Mama,” He exhaled a bit through his nose, “We’ll be home for dinner.”

“What are you–”

And the line went dead.

Fuck. Fuck. Fucking goddamn shitfuck.

She was shaking with anger as she lowered the phone, scared that if she so much as breathed she’d scream so loud it’d bulldoze half of Tokyo.

What the fuck was she going to do?

.♡.

There was a knock at the door, and she ripped it open, shocked it hadn’t fallen from the hinges. She looked up to meet his eyes, something playful twinkling in them. Did he think this was a joke?

“Mama, Mama!” Her gaze was pulled down to the little boy clutching the man’s hand, “Guess what? Guess what?”

“Ah,” He sighed, “Remember, bud. It’s a super special surprise.”

Kenta looked up at him as if realizing something before humming happily. She swallowed as she glanced between them, settling her gaze on the hero.

“Kenta,” Eyes still locked with burning red, “Why don’t you go clean up before dinner?”

“Mkay!” And he bounded off towards his room. When she heard the slam of his door, she let out a sigh, and swallowed, steadying her nerves.

“What the absolute fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“Language, sweetheart.” He sidestepped her, making his way inside, shutting the door behind him.

“Lang–?” He wasn’t serious, “Who do you think you—”

“Shouldn’t curse in front of Kenta,” He smiled, “It’ll teach him bad habits, y’know?”

Oh my god she’d never wanted to punch someone as much as she did now. She forced herself to breathe before settling.

“You don’t need to worry about Kenta’s habits,” He yawned, and she fought the urge to scream, “I want to know what you’re doing in my house, picking my son up from school like you–”

“That’s a funny way a’ sayin’ thank you for the favor.”

“Are you–”

“I know how busy you get,” He moved towards her, and she took a step back, and another until she hit the wall. Not again. “Wanted to give you a break. What’s the harm in that?”

He was looking down at her like that again. Like there was a game they were playing where only he knew the rules. Where he was winning.

“The harm,” She forced herself to speak, “Is that I gave you explicit instru–”

“Y’know,” He leaned back a bit, head tilted to the ceiling before snapping his eyes back to her, “Women are so complicated. Never sayin’ what you mean, what you need–”

“Let me be very clear, then,” She breathed, “Get out.”

He looked at her a moment, and she cursed the universe for not gifting her an invisibility quirk. Any quirk, actually. She was sure that, if he wanted, he could kill her without so much as blinking.

And then he laughed. She stood, frozen, studying his expression before his lips fell into a smirk. In a flash, his hand met her throat, squeezing the air from her lungs, and lifting her to her tiptoes. Her own hands flew up to claw at his, choking on her breath. His face was in front of hers, nose to her own.

“I’m gettin’ real sick of bein’ told what to do,” The edges of her vision were going black as his hot breath met her face, “I think you owe me an apology, baby.”

There were tears forming in her eyes, and she nearly, stubbornly, thought she’d rather pass out than give him the satisfaction. But the distant sound of running water forced her lips to move.

“So–Sor–Sorry, ple-please–”

He released her, and she doubled over, falling into a coughing fit, hand clutching at her own throat, sure of the forming bruises. He huffed a sigh, as if somehow she was inconveniencing him.

He leaned down again as she straightened against the wall. And he smiled. What was–

Before she could blink, his lips were pressed against her own. Her hands came to push at his chest, but he pulled back before she could move. He huffed a laugh, ruffling her hair.

“All good?”

All good? She forced down the protests, and nodded. She didn’t know this man. Didn’t know what he could do.

“It’s gettin’ kinda late, huh?” She realized after a moment that he was looking for an answer.

“I–Yes, I–” She cleared her throat of the raspiness, “I guess it is.”

He stretched his arms over his head, “Think I’ll stay the night, that okay?”

Fucking bastard. She went to open her mouth, but the sound of small footsteps padding against the floor caught her attention. She turned to see Kenta, hair dripping, in his matching set pajamas, making his way into the room.

“Hey, bud,” The man turned to him, “Guess what?”

“What?” He tilted his head.

He smirked as he glanced back at her, “We’re havin’ a sleepover.”

“Really?” Kenta jumped a bit in excitement.

His eyes were still on her. Red and burning and waiting.

She cleared her throat, “Real–Really, baby, if,” She glanced nervously between them, “If that’s what you want.”

“Yeah! We’re gonna have so much fun!”

“So much fun,” The man confirmed, “Right,” Looking around, he made his way to the dining room table, “What’s for dinner?”

.♡.

“Damn,” He whistled from behind her, hands rubbing up her sides, settling on her hips, “You tryna steal my brand?”

He huffed a laugh, lips falling to a smirk as his face fell to her neck, eyes trailing her figure in the mirror in front of them.

“Guess red is your color now, baby.” His nose brushed against her neck as he raised his head, taking in a breath, and pressed a wet kiss to her cheek.

She tried her hardest not to cringe, managing to keep her disgust contained with the clench of her jaw. The dress was beautiful; she would have felt beautiful had anyone else on the planet gifted it to her, but they didn’t, and she didn’t. There was a much too revealing slit running up one of the sides of the dress. With fabric skin tight and blood red, she felt more like someone’s dress-up doll than a person.

“This is it, right?” She sighed, meeting his eyes in the mirror, her own expression dull, tired, “You get your rank boosted, and that’s it. We’re done. Right? ”

She knew logically, in the far back of her mind, that this was about something entirely more sinister than simply a number as inconsequential, as temporary as a hero rank. The crimson eyes in the mirror glowed with a feeling she could only attribute to possession.

But, stupidly, naively, she was clinging to some hope, any hope, that that was what he wanted. Because if it wasn’t, if he wanted any more, she feared she’d break to pieces on her bedroom floor. And if she allowed herself even a second, and the cracks appeared, she’d be burdening her son with the shattered mess that would be her resolve.

So she wouldn’t break. If only to keep that bright smile on Kenta’s face, eyes innocent, shield him from anything and everything big and bad in the world like a mother would. Like a mother should.

She wouldn’t break.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head,” He sighed, a sleazy smile still on his lips as his hands began to move, to grope, “After tonight; we won’t have to play pretend anymore.”

One arm wrapped around her middle, pulling her tight against him, something poking at her back. His other hand traveled downwards, fingers slipping past that easy access slit, and–

“Mama, mama, look!” As quickly as he pulled her to him, he stepped away, turning to the little boy bounding through the door.

“You like the suit, bud?” How generous he was, he’d reminded her. He had all the money in the world to take care of them. She just had to let him. As if it were that easy. Asshole.

But she swallowed the anger, sending a soft smile to her son, taking in the child standing tall and proud in his small, tailored suit, grinning up at them for approval. At them. She faltered a bit before willing the nausea away.

“Wow,” She sighed, making her way to Kenta, crouching down as she fixed his red tie. The three of them really did look like a matching set, didn’t they? “Who’s this handsome man? Have you seen Kenta? I can’t seem to find him!”

“It’s me! Kenta! Here, I’m right here!” He squealed, waving his arms a bit in front of her.

“No,” She smiled wryly, “Kenta likes to come home covered in dirt lookin’ super cool.”

“Well now I’m all dressed up and super cool!” He crossed his arms petulantly, and she relented, laughing lightly.

“Oh, silly me,” She stood, having fixed his tie, “Of course, only Kenta could look this cool.”

“Mhmm!”

The low laughter behind her was like ice water in her veins. Right. He was still here. He came up behind her, arm wrapping around her hips as he smiled down at her son.

“You all ready, bud?”

“Yup!” Kenta jumped excitedly, “And I remembered, just like you said! I got the–”

“Surprise, kiddo.” The man hummed.

“Oh,” Kenta’s eyes widened before nodding intently, “Right. Surprise.” She didn’t want to dwell on the way her son looked at the man beside her with the reverence of something like a father.

The hero sent him a wink, and the little boy gave him a mismatched eye blink in response. She clenched her jaw, fingernails digging into her palms. Days. Days, and he hadn’t budged on this surprise of his. She felt like she’d throw up if she thought about it too long. So she forced it to the back of her mind.

She couldn’t break.

He turned back to her, fingers squeezed at the fat of her waist, thumb brushing affectionately against the fabric.

“You ready?”

.♡.

The lights flashing in her face left her feeling dizzy, and clutching tightly to the man by her side as they stepped from the limo. Blindly, she grasped for her son’s hand behind her as they marched forward, through the chaos.

They stopped in front of a row of reporters. A press line, she realized grimly. She let her mind wander as he fielded questions about the upcoming hero ranking announcement, chuckling lightly as reporter after reporter speculated about the nature and history of their relationship. About the oh so adorable little boy bouncing at their side.

He waved them off after a while, “I’m real sorry!” Sheepishly, a hand came to scratch at his head, “But, the little lady’s not used to all the cameras just yet.” Yet? No, push it down. Smile, she reminded herself, glancing at her son, who was rocking on his heels back and forth beside her. Oblivious. Good.

He huffed an apologetic laugh as the crowd protested, “‘Sides, we’d better get inside,” He threw a disarming smile over his shoulder, a hand raised to the crowd, “Wish me luck!”

They made their way inside, and she scanned the room, Kenta gasping next to her at the gathering of heroes. His heroes.

They made their way to their seats, and she recognized a few of the heroes gathered around them. She zoned out as a few of the men shoved her hero by the shoulder, jeering at him for finally settling down. A few of the women cooing over Kenta; how quaint! God, she wanted to scream.

She was brought back to reality when the grip on her hand turned deadly. Wincing, she turned towards him.

“I’m sorry,” She forced a sheepish smile, “Guess I’m just a little overwhelmed. What was the question?”

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the suspicious gaze of that ash blonde hero. The one who blew the city to bits every chance he got. He scoffed as he sized her up, turning away, downing his drink. She swallowed, turning away in unease.

“How’d this oaf convince ya, huh?” The lightning blonde laughed, “Money? No way a chick as hot as–oof!” One of the women, that pink hero, she recognized, elbowed him in the stomach, and the man doubled over, spitting up his drink, “Shit! What was that for?”

She turned away from the interaction as the woman began to scold him, and a few others took the opportunity to ask about her relationship to their friend.

How’d you get together?

Yeah! Tell us everything!

Where’d he take you on your first date?

It wasn’t the gym, right? Please tell me it wasn’t the gym!

And more. Her cheeks hurt from the forced quirk of her lips, fingers aching under the table from the deathgrip her tormentor had on her hand. She gave them the answers she thought appropriate.

He saved my son’s life.

Just a casual dinner. Nothing big.

His grip relented a bit, and she sighed. Kissing her on the cheek, he leaned back, a lovesick glaze overtaking his eyes that even his friends seemed to notice, because the jeers started up again.

“Alright, alright,” He placated with a smile, “You got your answers. Quit scarin’ the lady, already.”

They protested lightly, but settled. Just in time. The lights started to dim, and a spotlight shone on stage. The entirely too enthusiastic announcer began to speak, hyping up the crowd at the fast approaching ranking release.

As the minutes ticked by on the clock, she realized his name hadn’t been called yet. Most of the heroes at her table had sat by in silence so far. And then the host flashed a knowing smile, reminding the crowd of the moment they’d been waiting for.

The Top Ten.

Oh. Was that it? If he was in the top ten, would that mean she did her job? Served her purpose. Would he leave her be, then?

She turned to watch Kenta, whose eyes were glued to the stage, wide in awe, ears hanging on every word. She selfishly wished he wouldn’t become one of those people who worshiped the hero society she’d found herself trapped in.

But she could see it happening in real time, she supposed. The way he clung to the man who’d saved him from the rubble. The merch and toys that now littered their home, posters plastered around his bedroom walls. The way his eyes seemed to light up at the mention of his favorite hero’s name. She could almost hear the moment her heart started to crack.

All of a sudden, the people around her stood up, screaming. Kenta jumped to his feet, hands raised in the air as an open-mouthed smile overtook his face.

No. 8 Hero.

No. 8.

He reached a hand around her back, twirling her towards him, dipping her as his lips forced themselves on hers, tongue shoved down her throat. The cheers only erupted further. As she was pulled back to her feet, dizzy and unfocused, she barely registered as he made his way to the stage, bowing in thanks.

The rest of the names flew by in a blur, a few of his friends stepping up to join him as the list reached its end. But she paid no mind. It was over now. Right?

It was over. Could it please be over?

.♡.

They were outside again, and the cold night air nipped at her skin. Ushered back into the press line, she watched him desperately as he began to speak to reporters.

What an honor. I wasn’t expecting this. I’ll do my best to earn it!

She wanted to laugh until she screamed. But she was waiting. Waiting for him to say it. Release her. Release them. Say it. Please, say it.

“I owe it to all the support I’ve got behind me.” He smiled, squeezing their interlocked hands, “I really am the luckiest guy in the world, Number 8 or not.” No.

“There isn’t anything I can do to thank her,” He sighed, letting out a sheepish laugh, “But, I did prepare a little surprise.”

He turned to glance at Kenta, “We had a little surprise, actually.” Not that. Don’t say that.

The crowd awed, cooing at the scene, reporters on the edge of their seats, eager to hear more. She knew it was coming. She knew it. And yet, still, some part of her, some stupid part of her grasped for that single thread. She couldn’t fall. If she fell, she’d break.

“You ready, bud?” Stop it. She was starting to lose her grip on the thread.

“Mhmm!” Kenta hummed, fumbling for something in his pocket. “Right here!”

The thread was fraying. His small hands produced a velvet red box, and the crowd took a breath. She watched as her son reached past her, handing the weapon to the perpetrator. She hadn’t the time to process the burning betrayal in her chest. Because suddenly, she was falling.

And then he kneeled, looking up at her imploringly, that twinkle in his eyes sparkling. He’d finally won that game of his that only he was playing. Further down and down. And–

“Will you marry me?” That shark toothed smile flashed up at her; she felt the fangs ripping her heart to shreds.

And she shattered.

#yandere bnha #yandere kirishima #yandere kirishima eijiro #yandere kirishima eijirou #yandere mha #yandere kirishima x reader #yandere eijiro #yandere boku no hero academia #yandere my hero academia #yandere x reader #yandere x you #kiri is feral for milfs you can't convince me otherwise

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lunastarnight · 2 months ago

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Curts teeth

Another writing project, once again inspired by @turkeyinnovember. They made a post about a headcanon of theirs ( this one: https://www.tumblr.com/turkeyinnovember/717345318493110272/i-wish-i-can-just-shtpost-about-recreyo-and-not?source=share), so i tjought I might as well put my own little spin on it.

They had all just finished another scenario, and were now all sitting in their living room, just kinda excausted.

Curt and Christian were both on their phones, Curt playing some shitty mobile game to kill time and Christian looking through social media, Den was fidgeting with a pocket knife she had brought along, Ivan was still just kinda subconciously feeling where he had (once again) gotten stabbed in that scenario, and Kristine was holding an ice pack to her head, having hit it earlier.

But she was also staring at Curt. She had been wondering something for some time, finally unable to hold back and breaking the silence:

"So what's up with your teeth?"

Curt looked up confused. "My teeth?" he asked, thinking he might've just misheard her.

Kristine nodded, "Yeah, your teeth, why are they so weird?"

Curt looked confused, flashing his teeth for a moment. "The fuck are you talking about?" He looked to the others, hoping they could clarify what the fuck Kristine was trying to say.

Kristine vaguely gestured to him. "You know", she tried to explain herself, "why do they get so sharp sometimes?"

Christian laughed, speaking up. "Out of everything that happened, this is weird to you?"

Den shrugged. "Never really took the time to question it, figured it wad just some Multiverse stuff."

Ivan looked over with a small grin. "Gotta agree, sharp teeth aren't that big compared to some of the other stuff."

"Oh, that's what you meant." Curt shrugged. "No, not some multiverse thing or anything like that, this has always been like that, ever since I was a kid." Curt went back to his phone, nonchalantly adding "Probably just what happens when you're quarter Werewolf."

"Huh!?"

"Hm?!"

"What?!?"

The atmosphere in the room immediatally shifted, the other four staring at Curt, all of them having a different version of a mix of confusion and shock on their face.

Kristine spoke up first. "What did you just say?"Curt looked up at them again, raising an eyebrow. "What? Did I never tell you?" Chtistian sputtered in disbelief. "No! You kinda didn't." Curt seemed slightly apologetic for that, and quickly went to explain. "Oh, sorry. Well, my Grandma on my dad's side was a Werewolf, so with my dad being half a Werewolf, I'm quarter Werewolf."

They all just kinda stared at him, still very much confused. "You've never been gone on Full moon nights though.", Kristine muttered. "So what, you're immortal?" Ivan asked. "What, are you gonna turn us now that we know?" Christian said jokingly.

Curt held his hands up in the air, trying to get all of them to shut up. "Hold up, hold up, hold up, one thing after the other.", he said, looking to see if they were all paying attention, "First of all, how do you know I was never gone, did you watch me sleep or some shit?" Curt chuckled, interrupting Kristines sputtered attempt at defending herself as he continued. "But, the reason I was never away was, because I don't really have that transformation thing. Under 50 percent you typically loose most of the major Werewolf stuff like transforming into a Wolf or howling at the moon. Second, I'm not immortal, don't think any Werewolf is, they just have a longer lifespan, but since I'm more human, I will probably not live longer then any of you guys. Lastly, no, I won't. Even if I wanted to, the whole "turning people into Werewolfes" thing is kinda for actual Werewolfes, the only real Werewolf things I have are the teeth, slightly enhanced senses, and nightvision. So, even if I were to try, and bite one of you, the most that would probably happen is that'd taste bad."

They sat in silence for a bit, taking in the information, before Ivan perked up again. "What's that supposed to mean, do you think we aren't clean?"

Curt grinned, leaning back in his seat. "Honestly? Especially you, even just with all the stupid situations you're in every scenario, you probably sweat more then the rest of us, that can't taste good."

And with Ivan trying to defend himself, the usual banter continued as if nothing happened. Curts heritage had been a suprise, but honestly? As previously said, really not a big deal compared to what they were usually getting into, they'd be fine.

#recreyo #Recreyo Crew #headcanons #If anybody got an idea what to replace the Werewolf with #I honestly just did Werewolf cause I had no idea what else to put #but I feel like there's something better I could pick.

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pryllee · 9 months ago

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Sly Kitty

Scara x Fem! Reader

College + Modern AU, flirting with small hints of suggestive ideas, slight use of biker! Scara :D

A/N: Idk what to add in the content things. But I hope you just like this

Taglist:: @swivy123

—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

You let out another tired sigh, reluctantly walking into the warm bathroom. You notice the bathtub is already filled with also water... Thats ice cold.

Taking off your clothes, you settle into the tub, shivering from the harsh temperature difference—the air was warm that made you felt relaxed yet the tub was ice cold.

Atleast it's sure to wake you up now.

Getting out the bathtub causing water to splash below, with a more energized look on your face. You looked at the other pair of clothes on the right, it had black cargo pants and a white turtle neck shirt.

"Hm, this is his moms fashion preferences..."

The colors were basic but you had to admit the pairing was good, honestly. Black and white are basic colors but they seem nice to the eye, it's simple but can feel elegant.

Or does he have the same tastes? Well to be fair, he could've just picked whatever.

But before you wear them, you need to dry yourself, and so you did with a towel.

You step out with the clothes, feeling warm—but still kind of cold... so you rub your hands vigorously closing your eyes till you heard something drop onto a floor causing a small thud.

Purple eyes widening in shock as tea packets and packaged desserts roll onto the floor spilling out of a paper bag.

"Why is she wearing my clothes... Oh my Archons—don't tell me yo.." The womans words are interrupted as Scara rushes to slam his hand on her mouth to stop whatever foul non-sense she was about to speak.

"No. I did not, shes just a classm... friend that came over. She offered to cook for me, and Keni." He spoke in a stern tone.

"Uhm... Is that your mom you were talking about?" You asked, pointing awkwardly trying to be polite with your tone. The lady nodded,

"You can just call me Ei, and Kuni talked about me? Aww how sweet of you!!" Trying to go in for a hug with one foot in the air and arms wide open, but Scara places both hands on her seemingly over-excited face trying to avoid her reach.

She swiftly walked closer over to you, "Speaking of which, she can just keep that outfit, I'm starting to grow out of it..." She sighed, retracting her arms crossing it instead with a saddened tone.

"Oh– uhm, you don't need to gift me it! I'll hand it back after I make sure it's nice and clean after...!" You held your hands low, speaking with a shy tone.

"Oh it's fine really! I'd have so mu...—"

"AHEM. I think we'll get going now, bye mom." He coughed with a fist up to his mouth, his cheeks seemingly showing a light tone of red as grabbed onto your wrist hurriedly leading you to the entrance.

You both put on your shoes, as his mom yelled out; "Haaveee fuun, you two! Wait... what is her name?" The last part being whispered to her self with a quizzical tone.

You both put on your shoes, before he led you outside to a motorbike nearby beside their houses fencing.

"Huh...? Is this yours?"

"Yeah, I use it sometimes. Why do you ask?"

"Nothing, just surprising that you have one..." Hes a biker? When the actual heck did he become one? Also on further inspection hes wearing a compression shirt under the slightly zipped jacket... Wow.

He gestures for you to hop, and you do. He suddenly places a helmet on you lifting the shield enough to see your eyes from underneath.

Also grabbing a helmet from the side, wearing it on his head, "Hold on tight, dear"

You heard something be mumbled at the last of his message—but before you could ask he set off which shocked you a little, grabbing onto the back of his jacket tightly, almost hugging him in the process horrified.

The scenery you both had to pass by was intriguing, even though it was short moments, it was still breathtaking. The greenery surrounding you flashing by.

It was cold, but in a good way. The air smelt like rain with a small presence of nostalgia.

It feels like you've been here before, but you can't remember. The feeling was probably from a long time ago when you were a child.

Till you reached a rather distant shop, surrounded by plants. Chioriya Boutique, the sign read.

"This place mostly isn't open whenever the bigger version of it is open in the city."

Oh, the name seems oddly familiar now.

"Oh, that place thats went trending for its clothing near the Mall?

"Yeah. It's a smaller version for other people that live near here." He answers, with a hint of sympathy in his voice. Stepping inside the shop as a familiar bell was heard from above.

It was empty—or atleast it felt empty. Sighing in the cold air that came for Air Conditioning felt nostalgic, like those old shops. A voice could be heard from the side, making both your heads turn to find the source.

"Hello, welcome to Chioriya Boutique. How do both of you fare today? The seamstress currently isn't here." She asks, returning to her apparent original spot, behind the receptionists desk with fabrics cluttered around.

"Uhm... Fine?" Speaking with a doubtful tone, you answered her question... That was probably rhetorical.

"We're looking for slightly oversized plain t-shirts in her size. Do you have any?" Scara pointed at your torso with his index finger making you smile awkwardly in confusion.

"Yes, we should have some in the back." The woman held her palm out, showing a door on the side apparently being a different section.

"Come with me." He took your hand once again, maneuvering you over into the room.

Mannequins. It filled the room, various types of plain or designed T-shirts.

You felt the fabric, rubbing them with two fingers. How comfortable, it's fine silk, appropriately stretchy a little too.

Most of it seem to be slightly more expensive than the average types, the fine handiwork makes up for it though.

"Hm, I wonder what the seamstress is like..." You whisper to yourself, placing two fingers under your chin in thought, also earning a confused look from him in the process.

"Shes polite enough. A little bold, can be stern too. If thats what you're asking." He speaks, selecting a beige shirt that seems to perfectly fit you.

"How pretty, her choices of color." You smile, this reminds you of someone, yet you can't tell all that well.

"Hm. You remind me of her a little. Your appearance, that is. But I'd choose you in terms of who would be prettier." Showing a mischevious smile at the last sentence, till you smack him in the head out of embarrassment.

"Ugh, shut up with the corny compliments..."

"Don't you like them?"

You scoff in response, "Mainly, no. And what do you mean by me looking similar? Wait no, scratch that. How did you choose a T-shirt that seems to fit me perfectly?" You raise a brow.

"Lucky pick, it wasn't on purpose..." He pauses, wheels turning in his head. "I DID NOT do whatever weird ass stuff you think I could've possibly did." His eyes narrow, in a sarcastic look of disgust.

—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—

Extra A/N: Sorry about this being probably too short, didn't want to make anyone mad about me taking too long for a part 2 though. Sorry! 😭

#prylleewrites—✮#scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x fem! reader #scara x reader #scaramouche #genshin scara #kunikuzushi x reader #wanderer x afab! reader #wanderer x reader #genshin impact x reader

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sabyfangirl · 1 year ago

Text

Alone

After the brothers had a huge argument, Chris accidentally fell out of the Tortuga and into canadian woods in the middle of a snow storm, leaving his guilt-consumed brother to go looking for him with the help of the team.

After another successful creature rescue, the Tortuga team had decided to head North America, Canada to be more specific. Unfortunately, the timing was not the best since there had been serious ice storms and blizzards in most of the areas, forcing the gang to stay inside the Tortuga for what they planned to be a "short period" of time, which quickly turned into days - driving the Kratt brothers insane.

"Martin, turn that racket down! Can't you see I'm trying to read?" Chris yelled from across the room. He was reading a book in his hammock - about science and biology - while Martin was playing the guitar on a floor cushion.

"Well I wanna play my guitar, I gotta do something to keep myself from getting bored!" Martin replied moodily, strumming even harder this time.

They both stared at each other angrily.

From the other side of the room, the girls watched as the tension between the brothers intensified.

"Oh, the storm outside is nothing compared to the one inside," Aviva sighed exasperatedly, Koki nodding her head.

"Yeah, I've never seen them fight before, like ever!" she pointed out with a disappointed tone.

"It's really not like them, we've been cooped up in here for so long it's making them crazy!"

After bearing the sound for one more minute, Chris had enough. "Will you stop playing for just five seconds?!" he snapped.

"You're not the boss of me, so no," Martin said with all of his chest.

"That does it," Chris slammed his book closed, "I'm going to the garage where I can be alone," he shot his brother a hard look from the corner of his eyes.

Martin, barely looking up, simply shrugged. "Whatever," he scoffed while tuning his guitar. Aviva and Koki shared unhappy looks as Chris disappeared out of sight.

"Enough is enough." Martin looked up to find Aviva looking down at him, Koki right beside her. "What has gotten into you guys?" Aviva started.

"You've been fighting over small things lately, and it's getting worse," Koki persued, a firm look on her face.

Martin layed down his guitar and got up. "Oh come on, he's the one who started it!" he said defensively.

Aviva and Koki gave him the uh huh look. He kind of felt as though it was his fault, but wouldn't admit it. He walked by the girls only to accidentally sit on a particular switch.

In the garage, Chris was looking for a good spot to read in peace. "Argh, why does Martin have to be so annoying," he let out with a frustrated tone.

He eventually sat down against a pile of boxes.

"At least he won't be bugging me here," he buried his face in his book... but couldn't bring himself to focus on reading. He looked up and sighed deeply.

"Maybe I should-"

Suddenly, the garage hatch opened right in front of him.

"Oh no!" Chris yelped as he got sucked in, his hands grasping the edge of the hatch as he held on for dear life, having let go of his book as it disappeared into the darkness.

Other objects flew past him, but just as he thought he was going to make it, he got hit in the face by one of the boxes, sending him falling out of the Tortuga.

"AAAH!"

"It doesn't matter whose fault it was, you gotta talk things out with Chris," Aviva insisted.

Martin looked away, arms crossed, but deep down he knew he had to do the right thing. "Okay fine, I'll go and apologize to him," Martin sighed in defeat as he reluctantly made his way to the garage, Aviva and Koki sharing delighted expressions.

"That's more like it."

"Chris," Martin called out as soon as he entered the garage.

No answer.

"I know you're in here somewhere, I just wanna talk-" he stopped short when he noticed the garage hatch was wide open, and Chris was nowhere to be seen.

His stomach dropped. "Chris!" He ran over and looked down from the hatch. It was like staring at a black hole, only being able to see endless snowflakes, but no sign of his brother.

"No..." He stood there for a moment, processing what had happened.

"NO! CHRIS!" Martin cried out, but it was pointless.

He then rushed back to the main room. "The garage hatch is open! Chris is gone!"

"WHAT?!" Aviva and Koki looked stunned.

"But how?" Koki looked over her shoulder. "Someone sat on the switch," she glared at him.

Martin's eyes widened as he realized what he had done. Just a moment ago he felt angry, but now he was consumed with guilt.

"And it's freezing out there!" Aviva paused and slowly turned her head to look at Martin. "...What was Chris wearing?"

The question caught his breath. "Nothing but shorts and a sweater..." Martin's voice trailed off as he gradually felt himself panicking on the inside.

Noticing this, Aviva grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him hard. "Martin focus, we gotta go back and find Chris." Martin took a deep breath and nodded.

"I'll go tell Jimmy to turn back and let him know what's going on," Koki dashed to the pilot room, leaving Martin and Aviva looking at each other with concerned eyes.

"Oh, brother..."

In a snow-covered forest, lay an unmoving body. Suddenly, weak moans started to escape him. The green Kratt was slowly returning to the world of living, the soft but horribly cold touch of the snow making it harder for him to get up from the ground. He gritted his teeth as he sat up and brushed the snow off his clothes before he looked around with blurry eyes; it was pitch dark, with nothing but the harsh winter wind howling in his numb face, snowflakes dancing around him. Part of him was actually grateful he had landed in soft snow. Cold but soft. Though he wished there was such a thing as warm snow, as silly as it sounded in his head. In a shiver, he wrapped his arms around himself as he tried to stand up, almost failing at it. He was so cold, acknowledging that his attire wasn't suitable for the weather. His skin felt like it could easily rip any moment. His teeth chattered so badly, the vibration could reach his brain. A thought suddenly came to him; he dug his trembling hand in his pocket...only to find that he didn't have his creature pod on him. He must've lost it during the fall.

Fantastic.

He squinted his eyes as he tried to spot anything that might be useful; the boxes that accompanied him during his fall were mostly wrecked, some were even sticking out of sharp branches, like marshmallow during a campfire. He swallowed hard as a chill went down his spine. It could've been him.

"This is g-great," he muttered to himself, trying hard not to panic. He had no clue where he was nor for how long he was out cold, all he knew is that he couldn't stand there for too long. "G-Gotta f-find sh-shelter." He picked a random direction and dragged his feet in the thick snow.

"Land the Tortuga right here, Jimmy!" Aviva pointed at a clearing, which could be seen thanks to their searchlights.

"Righty-o!" Jimmy landed the Tortuga, slow and steady.

With no time to spare, the gang got geared up and ready to go out on the search. They all headed to the garage and decided to take the Creetera - Aviva had modified it to make it move through the toughest of conditions, including snow. With Jimmy behind the wheel, Koki next to him and Aviva and Martin in the back, they took off to find their brother and friend... Before it was too late.

"We're coming, Chris."

Everything around him felt cold, vicious, biting and blinding. The wind was roaring in his ears, he had snow in his hair and he was shivering badly. The black and brown thorns wrapped around the forest, almost like teeth waiting to tear at him. Each trudge felt longer and harder than the last. He was getting colder and weaker. He couldn't stand it anymore. All he wanted was a warm bed and a soft blanket, and to think that he had all that and more not long ago. He stopped and looked down at his hands: his fingertips were already turning blue.

Blue.

Martin.

Part of him wanted to blame him for everything, but the other just missed him so badly. He could even hear his voice echoing in his head.

Well I wanna play my guitar, I gotta do something to keep myself from getting bored!

The random cracking sound of wood suddenly snapped him out of his thoughts. His eyes danced around to spot the source of it, when they landed on what seemed to be... a hut.

Wait... A HUT!

Slowly but surely, he made his way to what he considered to be the perfect shelter, but when he got close enough, he began to have doubts; the hut was pretty small, so small that not even a horse could fit in it. It had no door, and even with all the snow, he could still tell it wasn't very solid.

Desperate times call for desperate measures.

Without another thought, he bent his head to enter the hut. It was dark and he could hardly see, but at least he no longer had snow blowing at his face. He walked deeper into the hut, until he found a corner where he sat down. His numb hands touched the ground and he felt smooth, humid grass, which was more preferable than snow. A shaky sigh escaped his chest as he looked around him. A bit of dim moonlight pierced through the cracks and holes, creating a somewhat comforting scene. A weak smile crept across his face, but it faded as soon as he remembered his misery. He also remembered the moment he fought with his brother.

Will you stop playing for just five seconds?!

That does it, I'm going to the garage where I can be alone.

Alone.

Now he was truly alone.

He felt a small tear forming in his eye, but he held it back. He wondered if the crew noticed he was gone yet. He hoped they were already looking for him, having no idea how long he could possibly last out there. The weather was bad enough, but the lack of clothing made it far worse. He calculated the possibilities and the chances he had to survive. He felt his breathing getting faster as the realization hit him. He was freezing. His whole body ached from the cold. He already recognized the early signs of hypothermia; he felt numb, sluggish and his heart rate and breathing had increased. He knew that by staying completely immobile, his symptoms would only get worse. But just as he had the idea of getting up and walking around a little, he heard the loud booming sound of snapping wood right outside, then-

BOOM.

"Stop!" Martin cried out. Jimmy immediately smashed the breaks, and the Creetera came to a halt. Everyone turned to look at Martin who was pale as a sheet.

"Martin?" Aviva approached him, concerned. "What's wrong?

Martin slowly looked up at her, a petrified look on his face. "It's Chris," he swallowed hard.

"What about him?" Koki raised an eyebrow.

"He's hurt, I-I can feel it." He placed a few fingers on the side of his head.

The others exchanged worried looks. "You think you might know where he is?" Jimmy asked.

"N-No," Martin shook his head, still staring into the void. "All I know is that he's hurt." He then looked at them, distress painting his face. "We need to find him fast!"

"We will." Aviva placed a hand on his shoulder. "We promise."

"Uhh, guys," everyone's attention turned to the ginger guy. "What's that?" He pointed at something sticking out of the snow in front of them, illuminated by the headlights.

Martin was the first to hopp off. He went over and pulled the object out of the snow, letting out a loud gasp.

"Martin, what is it?" Aviva knelt beside him.

"It's Chris' book," he managed with a trembling voice, eyes fixated on the title.

"Wait, that means we're on the right track," Aviva said. "...Martin?"

You're not the boss of me, so no.

"Martin?" Aviva shook the blue Kratt. "Snap out of it!"

"It's all my fault," he muttered.

"What?"

Martin looked at her dead in the eye. "This is all my fault. It's my fault Chris is lost out here, it's my fault that he's probably hurt and it's my fault that-"

"Hey, hey, hey..." Aviva cut him off, her voice calm and gentle. "None of this is your fault, we'll find your brother." She grasped his shoulders in a comforting way. "Everything's gonna be okay," she smiled reassuringly.

With glassy eyes, Martin gave her a thankful smile.

"We better get moving," they heard Koki say from behind them. "If he landed here, Chris most likely would've taken...that path." She pointed with her finger, before heading back to the Creetera, followed by Aviva and Martin.

The ringing in his ears grew larger and larger...before it stopped. He gasped as his eyes flung open. The pain was so intense. He tried to move, but his body screamed in response. He put up a shaky hand to his throbbing head, and flinched... He looked down; blood. He felt crimson flowing from the side of his head. Cuts and bruises were all over his body, but he was in too much pain to notice. He then stared at both hands with wide eyes. No!

At that moment, tiny splinters of wood started falling in front of his face. He looked up to find, to his utter horror, a HUGE tree trunk that had burst through the roof, having completely destroyed half the hut. The damage was indescribable. And since the tree trunk was only a few inches above him, Chris used all of his remaining strength to crawl away from it. Oh, the pain was immeasurable. He finally made it to a safer corner, sucking in his fragile, frozen body. He couldn't feel his limps anymore. He then looked at his hands one more time...and his eyes filled with tears. It felt hopeless. He could feel himself slowly slipping into unconsciousness. He clenched his achy chest, his breathing shaky and unsteady. He just wished he could've seen his brother one last time, just hear his sweet voice, or feel one of his hugs.

"M-Martin," his voice was weak and stained with agony. "Help..."

Then the world around him turned black.

Help.

Martin gasped at the familiar voice echoing in his head. He clenched his chest. "Chris?"

"Jimmy stop!" Aviva let out as soon as she noticed. "Martin?"

"He's near, I can feel it." Martin looked around frantically. "Over there!" He pointed at a strange structure in the distance.

When the Creetera got close enough, the crew gasped at the sight. "A tree fell on this hut!" Koki exclaimed.

"Whoa, that's some serious damage," Jimmy let out in awe.

"You don't think...?" Aviva's voice trailed off.

"Only one way to find out." Martin hopped off the vehicle, not forgetting his bag. "You guys stay here, it's too dangerous for all of us to get in."

The crew nodded. "Be careful," Aviva said.

Martin took out a flashlight as he entered the half-demolished shelter. As he walked deeper, he noticed the trunk sticking out of the ceiling, the sky vomiting snow all over. Then, he noticed an unmoving form in the corner. His eyes widened as he held up the flashlight with a trembling hand. When his eyes landed on him, he felt as though he was stabbed in the heart.

"CHRIS!" he cried out, throwing away his flashlight and dropping on his knees. "No, no, no, no, bro, wake up, it's me, Martin!" his voice was filled with despair, holding his face close to his. He then grabbed him by the shoulders and almost shook him, but didn't. He had to remain calm for his brother's sake. He noticed the dry blood on his face, already getting an idea of how it happened. If the trunk were a person, he would've punched them so hard. He then noticed the state of his hands and gasped quietly.

Frostbite.

He gently leaned in and pressed an ear against his chest, holding him close with his arms as he closed his eyes. "Please, please, please..."

...

Thumb. Thumb.

A faint heartbeat. It was shallow, but very much there.

Martin breathed the biggest sigh of relief he ever had, tears welling up in his eyes. He felt like breaking down and sobbing right then and there, but he abstained himself. He quickly wiped his eyes with a sniffle, then dug his hands in his bag and took out a weighted blanket. He wrapped the fabric around his brother's delicate, frozen body, careful not to harm him.

All of a sudden, Chris gave a whimper which startled his brother.

"Martin, is it time to go to school?" his voice was inaudible, barely louder than a whisper.

Martin's heart ached. He gently picked him up bridal-style, his brows furrowing with inquietude. "No, bro, just go back to sleep," he whispered, but it didn't stop his brother from rambling, only making him even more worried. "Hang in there, Chris."

Back outside, the crew was patiently waiting for Martin to show up. Once he stepped out of the hut, Aviva and Koki gasped in horror while Jimmy let out a screetch at the sight of Chris hanging in his brother's arms, with his head all the way back, a sign of his body's complete and utter limpness, blood covering nearly half his visage.

"Is he okay?!" Jimmy cried out.

"His head's bleeding, he's ice cold and he's delirious," Martin said, almost mechanically, positioning his brother in the back of the Creetera, laying his head on his bag. Then he stole a glance at his hands sticking out of the blanket. "And his hands took a beating," he sighed heavily, rubbing his forehead.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and turned around. "Hey, he'll be alright." Aviva smiled warmly, Martin forcing a feeble smile in return.

"Step on it, Jimmy!" Koki earged.

Without a second to spare, Jimmy smashed the accelerator and the Creetera instantly took off like a bolt of lightning.

Soon enough, the team made it back to the Tortuga, the entrance wide open and welcoming.

Everyone burst in the emergency room, Martin carrying Chris behind them.

He layed him on the emergency bed, then rushed off to grab a piece of cloth to wipe off the dry blood covering his pale face. Koki took off his blanket and threw it away, then she opened an IV bag warmer to heat IV fluids up for Chris before administering it to him. Aviva filled up a recipient with warm water before placing it on the bed, then she slowly dipped Chris' hands in the liquid. He instantly let out silent cries, whimpering at the newly discovered pain. "Sorry Chris," Aviva said with a desolated tone, "I know it hurts but it's for your own good."

Just then, Martin walked up to him with a cool washcloth and knelt beside the bed. "Hang on, bro, this will only take a sec."

Just as he pressed it against the wound, Chris grunted, slightly moving his head to avoid the contact. Regardless, he continued the process. Just as he placed the bloody cloth away, Jimmy walked up with a pile of blankets, carefully covering Chris up as much as he could without touching the recipient or the IV needle. He was making a huge effort at hiding his discomfort from it all, being slightly hemophobic and all that. Finally, Martin took care of wrapping up the wound on his brother's head, finishing with the gentle brush of his hand against his cold cheek.

Dead silence. Everyone circled around the bed, contemplating.

"That's all we can do for now," Koki finally said. "We should all go get some rest, it's been a long night."

Martin pulled a chair close to the bed and sat on it. "You guys go ahead," he said, not taking his eyes off of his brother. "I'm staying."

"Martin-" Aviva tried to reason with him but was instantly cut off.

"I said I'm staying," his tone was harsh and intense. Aviva sighed in defeat, knowing there was nothing she could do to make him leave.

"Fine." She walked by him and sympathetically patted him on the shoulder, before exiting the room, followed by Koki and Jimmy.

They were alone. Just the two of them.

Martin looked down at his brother's face, his eyes were closed shut, almost in a lifeless way.

The memory of everything that had happened flashed before his eyes. He sighed heavily, rubbing his face. He hated himself so badly.

Just then he heard a timid knock on the door. It was Jimmy. He walked in with a mug full of tea in his slightly shaky hands. Martin turned around and tried to wear a small smile.

"Thanks, JZ." He grabbed the mug and the ginger guy made his way out of the room.

"No problem."

Martin looked down at his brother's icy face, the cold refusing to go away, and gently lifted his head before approaching the mug to his slightly open lips. Chris drank most of the tea which made Martin feel at ease, then he placed the mug on the side table and slowly lowered his head back on the pillow. He adjusted the blanket around his form as much as he could, his eyes twitching at his fingers dipped in the water.

Another sigh, this one filled with mixed emotions; he was scared, angry with himself, overwhelmed with relief. But mostly, he just hoped his brother would ever forgive him for not being there for him when he needed him. He wished he could've been there sooner, wished he could've done something to prevent this, but all he could do now was hope he'd recover and that his hands wouldn't suffer from permanent damage. The thought formed a lump in his throat. He reached out a shaky hand and brushed it against Chris' slightly warmer face, tears on the edge of his eyes.

"Everything's gonna be alright, I promise," his voice cracked. And before he knew it, tears were streaming down his face. He buried his face in his brother's chest, sobbing in silence. At some point, he drifted to sleep, a protective arm unconsciously wrapped around his brother.

Hours later, he woke to the sound of grunts, followed by a faint call. "M-Martin..."

Martin's head immediately flung up. He looked down at his brother's closed eyes. "Chris?" his voice was hopeful. "C'mon, buddy, wake up." He squeezed his shoulder.

Chris' eyes slowly started to open, not completely, but enough to look at his brother through half-opened eyelids. "Chris," Martin's voice contained a shred of relief, "Can you hear me?"

Chris stared at him weakly, before nodding.

At that, Martin sighed shakily then reached out to feel his temperature... A little feverish, but he was awake and that was all that mattered.

"How are you feeling?" Martin tried to fake a smile to bring comfort to his agonized brother.

Chris opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Instead was a dry cough, followed by a shiver. Martin looked at him with sad eyes. Chris slowly looked down at his hands to find that they were in a recipient full of water, also noticing the IV needle sinking into his skin, like a snake's fangs. His eyes widened.

"It's okay, bro," he heard his brother say with a tender tone. "You're gonna be fine."

Chris looked at him for a moment, then smiled weakly. He then gave him a familiar look. Martin knew what it meant. He leaned in and gently wrapped his arms around him, trapping him in a long embrace.

Chris sighed as he snuggled in his brother's shoulder. If his hands were free, he would've wrapped them hard around him and never let go.

Sniff. Sniff.

To his shock, he felt tears falling on his back. "I-I'm so sorry," Martin sniffled between his words. "This is all my fault, I never should've gotten angry with you."

Chris pulled away from the hug, looking into his brother's eyes. "I-I'm sorry, too," he managed with an unbelievably raspy voice, tears on the edge of his eyes. "I was s-scared, bro... I-I thought I'll never see you a-again, I..." A single tear rolled down his cheek.

"Shh," Martin wiped off the tear with his thumb. "Everything's gonna be fine now, I'm not going anywhere," he smiled warmly, his voice soft and reassuring.

Chris seemed to relax after that. "Thanks bro," he sniffled.

"You get some rest, I'll go let the others know you're awake." Chris nodded weakly and closed his eyes with a quivering sigh as Martin got up from the chair and headed to the door. He stopped, turned around to steal one more glance at his brother, smiling sadly...then left the room.

A few days had gone by, and chris was gradually healing; the hypothermia had completely gone away a few hours after his first conversation with his brother after the incident. His head injury was slowly getting better, and according to Aviva, he didn't seem to be having any internal issues that might've been caused by it, much to everyone's relief. All that was left was the frostbite. His hands stayed dipped in warm water 24/7, day and night, which was driving him a little crazy despite being told a million times it was the best way to treat it. He was mostly scared, however, that his hands would never get any better and that he would never be able to use them again. The thought always nearly brought him to tears, but thankfully he had his brother by his side to cheer him up and bring him hope, every step of the way. The older Kratt kept his word and never left his brother's side, he even went as far as reading him that book he had lost in the snow since he never truly finished it, and it always brought a smile to his little brother's face.

One day though, a miracle occured. Chris woke one morning, his brother sleeping beside him, his head resting on his bed, still sitting on that same chair. The sight always made a warm-hearted smile crack on his face. He always told him to sleep in his own bed but the stubborn sibling refused, not surprisingly. The green Kratt looked around the chamber, a bit of sunlight shining through the window and creating a golden string, his eyes following it until they landed on his hands. His hands. Something felt...different about them. He cautiously sat up to look down at his hands, still trapped under the water, and with slight hesitance, he slowly took them out, droplets of water raining on the cover as he approached them to his face.

He paused for a moment, gulped...then curled his fingers into a fist. His eyes widened, a short laugh escaping him, followed by a cry of joy and relief.

Martin suddenly came back to the world of living, he looked around frantically, still not fully awake. "Chris, wha-" He rubbed his eyes and noticed his brother staring at his hands with an exaggeratedly large smile on his face, his remaining sleep disappearing.

"Are you okay? What happened? Are you feeling worse?!" He shot him with a bunch of questions, Chris only laughing even harder.

"Martin, look!" He extended his hands for him to see; the frostbite was gone. Both brothers cried and hugged and sobbed for a while, they were just so happy.

"See? I told you everything was gonna be alright!" Martin cried, the smile on his face accompanied by matching tears.

"Yeah," Chris wiped his face, the amazing sensation of using his hands again washing over him. "I don't know what I would've done without you."

Martin gasped softly, smiling warmly.

After updating the others on what happened, Martin came back to Chris' room with some tea, his brother finally being able to hold his own mug. He then took out the book for Chris to grab.

Chris reached out his hands, but paused...then lowered them, seeming pensive. Martin looked confused.

"Actually..." Chris snuggled back on his pillow with his tea. "I like it better when you read it for me," he smiled.

Martin looked at him for a moment, then a smile spread across his face. "No problem," he chuckled.

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plaindangan · 2 years ago

Note

Futa!Kyoko and Futa!Mukuro have both had a long and exhausting day. So, the two girls decided to go take a bath together. Considering it’s late at night and they haven’t seen anybody else awake, they figured that it’d be fine to walk into the bathhouse completely naked. However, it seems that a certain lucky femboy had the same idea as them and is currently relaxing in the bath. Upon discovering this, the two girls decide to show Makoto both of their ‘not so little’ secrets.

Disclaimer: Below is content that's more on the racy side! If not for you, you probably shouldn't read!

"The bathhouse is up ahead. Can't wait to just soak in there after the workout I had today with Hina and Sakura." On the left was the ultimate soldier, face filled with exhaustion after the day she had. While she loved working out with two of the fittest members of their group, it never failed to quickly get her almost as tired once it was all over.

To the right was Kyoko Kirigiri, giving a slight nod. "While I might not have been working out, constantly going everywhere to investigate these recent thefts has me appreciate this bathhouse a lot more than usual."

It was dead at night when they had finally decided to take a stroll to the bathhouse. Everyone else would be in their rooms, dead asleep or too occupied in their own thing to even consider bathing this late out. Perfect for too ladies who just wanted some time for themselves. Heck, they even went one step further in their confidence and just walked right to said bathhouse utterly nude. Something first started by Mukuro, but Kyoko eventually got in on the action after back to back nights of literally no one ever discovering them. She has to say...it's not bad!~ There actually was kind of a thrill to be doing something so shameless when so many people could potentially witness her out in the buff. Getting glimpses of her milky bare ass, Mukuro's hard-earned muscles...and both their eight-inch, girthy, boybreaking, cocks!~

Both were futa's, though they each went through great lengths to hide such a fact from the others outside of those they really trusted. Both were perfectly fine with themselves, but its best to not risk any fuss coming about from being exposed. Well, exposed regularly for that is!~

As the two happily chatted away amongst themselves and entered the bath house, they failed to realize an occupant was already in the house after a long day of his own. With an even larger ass than the girl and hips most would kill to acquire, Makoto's eyes was happily lounging about in the bathhouse. Eyes closed and not a care in the world...until he heard the door to it fling open. "Aaaah!! I-I can explain!!....H-huh? Mukuro...Kyoko? What are you guys.....doing....." he slowly trailed off as he had gotten a good glimpse of what was between their legs. Or rather, how they slowly stood quite erect. Being so blatantly out in the open, thoughts of asking about both Kyoko and Mukuro's intentions or them being futas slowly melted as thoughts concerning those cocks dominated his mind. What would it be like to suck on them? Or even...getting pounded by them. In turn, for the girls, this was the first time either really got to see Makoto so exposed as well. They always admired their lucky friend and the fact that he had such a such sexy backside was bonus both wanted to get!~

Eventually, it was Kyoko who broke the ice and walked over to Makoto. "Perhaps, its best to get to talking after we 'de-stressed' so to speak?" she said softly, her own cock an inch away from Makoto's face.

Mukuro's quickly nodded her head and rushed to the other side of Makoto. "Y-yeah!! Explanations can be for later. Fine with that, Makoto?" she asked, though knew it was pretty much a formality and her heart was pounding for the next step.

So, what's a femboy to do with two sweaty, musky smelling, cocks and two women who eagerly wanted to fuck his daylights out? Why...dive right in!

For Kyoko's case, he couldn't help but try to go down on that gigacock of hers, sucking her tip and the juices that came out, licking all of her shaft and fondling her cum-filled balls!~ The detective let out a rather soft moan from such a treatment, holding onto Makoto's head to keep there as he went lower for for her. As for Mukuro? She was always someone that loved a good ass and Makoto's reigned supreme. Grabbing onto his hips, she wasted no time in shoving her dick into him, deep as she could go and thrusting in a steady rhythm. Groping and slapping Makoto's ass until it bright red, she was more vocal of the girls, breathing heavily and was louder in terms of expressing her enjoyment.

"I-I think...yeah, Kyoko we gotta do this more often!!" Mukuro said, speeding up in her approach now. Much to Makoto's muffled delight!

"I-In...indeed. Perhaps...a daily occurrence then? Would that...would! W-would...would that suffice!?" Kyoko was really trying to keep her cool, but Makoto was surprisingly good at quickly wearing her down.

In fact, after a good half hour of fun, both finally came at the same time. One sending warm, gooey, cum down this throat, while the other shot seed after seed into his fat ass. By the time both had finally let go, Makoto was a perfectly filled cum slut and absolutely fucked silly!~ Not to mention dirty again!

But not to worry! Both Mukuro and Kyoko were more than happy to repay the favor by helping scrub the lucky student off again...especially concerning his own sizable cock. Did it result in him cumming hard after a vigorous handjob/blowjob combo from them and becoming dirty once more? Why, yes, but hey no one is perfect! Besides, since this was going to be a daily thing they had all the time in the world to perfect their techniques!~

#DRikusaba-R18 #DRkirigiri-R18 #DRnaegi-R18 #dranonasks

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raging-violets · 1 year ago

Text

Meet Cute // KendallxRiley // Big Time Rush

A/N: So I realized that I’ve written Riley in two different ways the last few years; the angst driven one with her parents dead and the other lighthearted driven one when her parents are alive. But unless you pay attention to the things I write in different fandoms, you wouldn’t really see how they’re the same character but there are fundemental things about her personality that are different with and without the influence of her parents. So, I decided to write two quick scenes to show y’all!

The first version is where her parents are dead, the second is where they’re alive. This is set around Big Time Audition.

Tag List: @partiallypearl @witchofinterest @mystic-scripture @darknightfrombeyond @arrthurpendragon

Version 1

Kendall pushed open the door to the costume closet with light trepidation. Was there going to be more leather all over the place? Or was it going to be an explosion of red, white, and blue with tassels? Either way, he hoped Gustavo got the message that the boys weren’t going to be easily controlled. Then again, Griffin’s assistants—Obdul and Jessica—seemed to be as crazy as Griffin were and thought they were good ideas. (Though he figured, being around Griffin in any capacity of time was enough to drive anyone insane).

“Hello?” He called.

“You’re late!”

The voice came from behind a set of racks that sat in the middle of the floor. Kendall walked over and peered around it, finding a girl teenage girl his age sitting on the floor with a pencil in her mouth an da clipboard on her lap. She looked up at him, eyelashes fluttering behind the long black hair with red streaks that hung straight around her shoulders and back.

“Raleigh?” He asked.

She pulled the pencil from her mouth and said flatly, “It’s Riley. And you’re late.”

“Sorry.” He held out his hand to help her up, brought it back to his side when she stood on her own. “I just…”

“I would be too if I had to wear what you lot did when Griffin was in here,” she continued as if he hadn’t spoken. Once on her feet, she set her clipboard aside and shook his hand. She tilted her head, turning his hand aside. “You play guitar?”

It took a second for him to recognize the change in subject. “Yeah, how could you tell?”

“Callouses,” she replied plainly. “It’s all over your hands, mate.” She slid her hands into the back pockets of her jeans, shifted her weight as she cocked her hip. Looked him up and down, the hint of a smirk coming to her face. “Plus, I reckon you don’t seem the type to be in a boy band.”

“Is that a good or a bad thing?”

“I’m trying to figure that out,” she replied honestly. “Also, you’re pretty brave for wanting to work with Gustavo Rocque. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but he can be a little…”

“Unhinged?”

“I was going to say ‘completely mental’ but that works, yeah?”

“That…probably does work better. It’s really accurate.” Kendall nodded. “And, how many times do you get the chance to try to make music with some of your best friends?” Her eyebrows rose. “Opportunities like this come once in a lifetime,” he said, answering her question. “How could I pass it up?”

“Don’t you have a background in hockey?” Riley folded her arms, studying him. He looked at her curiously. “You have to do your research on anyone you’re going to work with,” she said as explanation. “Hockey, huh?”

“Hockey’s my life,” Kendall said. “I grew up playing it. I can’t imagine not being on the ice…it’s like home to me.” He suddenly felt a pang in his chest, of anxiety. Had he made the right decision? To give everything up and go all the way to California to try and see if they could be a music group? A success? But he also couldn’t sit back and have his best friend be berated and told that he had ‘no talent’ when James had all the talent in the world and then some. “But there’s always time for it. There’s always an off-season.”

“Sounds like me and surfing,” Riley said after a second with a light nod. “I never planned on being in a band, I just want to be in the water.”

“Right!” Kendall’s anxiety washed away with her words. Finally, someone who understood. “The feeling of the stick in your hands, the reverberation of the slapshot you just took, the rush of getting that slapshot into the top corner of the net as it slides by the goalie? Facing off against the line of defenders while you try to make a breakaway for the last goal of the game. Washing out all blood—and sometimes mucus—stains from your jersey but not washing out the memories.”

“Whatever you say, Hockey-Head,” Riley quipped after a second of silence. “You’re lucky you’re cute or else I’m sure that would turn off a lot of people, yeah?” She looked at him suspiciously. “You do have all your teeth, right?”

“Yes, I have all my teeth,” Kendall said with a roll of his eyes. He pursed his lips and made a show of tapping his two front teeth with his fingertips. Then started to smile and play a beat with the tapping from his fingertips. “Hey, maybe Griffin would be happy with something like that?”

Riley sighed, placing a hand on her hip. The other rested on the arm of the couch, supporting her weight. “Something tells me you’re going to be very annoying,” Despite her words, she had a small smile on her face.

Kendall smiled back.

Version 2

Kendall hesitantly stepped into the costume closet. He pressed his hand against the door and pressed it open, expecting to see even more red, white, and blue apparel all over the place. Either that or the massive amounts of leather he and his friends had been forced to squeeze into. His legs still had the rash that even his mom’s best lotions couldn’t cure.

The idea of being dressed in any of those outfits again was enough to have Kendall turn tail and run. But James would never forgive him, especially not after Griffin decided to take a chance on them and sign them after three days of hard work. Logan would’ve ranted at him the statistics of the time, blood, sweat, and tears they would have wasted. And Carlos…he wouldn’t have cared much; everything was an adventure to him.

But he’d never backed away from a challenge and he wanted to prove Gustavo and Griffin wrong. Still, he found himself trembling as he entered the costume closet for the fifth time in the last few days. He found a teenage girl about his age scribbling on a clipboard.

“Raleigh?” he asked, using the name Gustavo had given them.

She lifted her head, brushing her black hair from her blue eyes. A strand of dyed red fell back into her face, and she tucked it behind her ears along with her low pigtails. “Actually, it’s Riley.”

“Oh.” Kendall blinked, suddenly at a loss for words. Partially from embarrassment at having gotten her name wrong—though he should’ve known that Gustavo wouldn’t have gotten anyone’s names right considering he and his friends had almost immediately been reduced to ‘dogs’—and partially because he was stunned from her smile. Was that an accent? “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not,” she replied with ease.

Kendall felt his cheeks burn as he smiled. “I’m Kendall.”

“I know who you are.” She stuck out her hand with a warm smile. He took it, eyebrows widening when he felt the firmness of her handshake. Then they lowered in confusion when she turned his hand over and ran her fingers from his palm to his fingertips. She lifted her head, blue eyes widening in excitement. “You play the guitar?”

“Yeah.” He brought his hand back, momentarily surprised. “How could you tell?”

“A bloke like you doesn’t seem like they’d be in a boyband, yeah?” She lazily waved her hand, moving back through the costume closet to grab a rack of clothes he assumed were for him. Judging by the flannels and skate shoes he saw sitting on it. “Doesn’t really seem like your thing.”

Kendall watched her as she moved, silently wondering if that was a good or a bad thing. Being in a boyband wasn’t his thing, they were going to be a singing group. There was a difference. Still, he found himself smiling at her comment.

Noticing the silence, Riley chuckled quietly and said, “The callouses on your fingers are a dead giveaway, mate.” She rested her arms on the top of the rack and gently rocked back and forth. “So, what made you agree to work with Gustavo? I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but he can be a little…”

“Unhinged?”

“I was going to say ‘crazy’ but…” she shrugged. “Your word is correct.”

Kendall laughed. “Opportunities like this come once in a lifetime,” he said, answering her question. “How could I pass it up?”

“Easily, considering you were slated to become a big hockey star.” She smiled gently when his eyes narrowed. They’d only just met; how could she have possibly known that? “One thing to learn about the industry, everyone is in everyone’s business and it’s only a matter of time until it reaches the public. Whatever you don’t want people to know…I hope you’ve got it under wraps.” She brushed her hair back from her face. “For me it’s only a matter of seconds until something I try to hide gets to my managers. Then again, my mum and dad are my managers.” She paused. “Hockey, huh?”

“Hockey is my dream,” Kendall admitted. He suddenly felt a pang in his chest, of anxiety. Had he made the right decision? To give everything up and go all the way to California to try and see if they could be a music group? A success? But he also couldn’t sit back and have his best friend be berated and told that he had ‘no talent’ when James had all the talent in the world and then some. “I want to play center for the Wild.” He shrugged. “Or the Maple Leafs.”

“Dreaming big.”

“Yeah. But I couldn’t take this opportunity away from James. He’s my best bud, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. There’s always time for hockey, there’s always an off-season.”

“Whatever you say, Hockey-Head,” Riley quipped. She pushed herself away from the rack of clothes and smiled demurely. “I think Gustavo and Griffin may regret hiring with you lot. But, you plan on sticking around, yeah?”

“As far as this takes us.”

She folded her arms. “Ace!” Her eyes dipped over him and for a moment, he felt like he was being X-Rayed. Her smirk-smile widened. “I think this’ll be fun.”

Kendall found himself smiling back.

#big time rush #big time rush oc #btr #kendall knight #oc: riley jackson #kiley #otp: kiley #otp: knight light #otp: hockey head and surfer babe #by: riley #drabble

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panfluidme · 1 year ago

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Growin' Up Wrong (Donnie's Story)

Master Post, Chapter Five

I apologize if I didn't convey the two kids properly. I am really bad at writing kids (I am working on getting better though, so be patient, lol).

CHAPTER SIX: BIRTHDAY IN THE HOSPITAL

It was Donnie's sixth birthday, but it held a somber mood over their heads instead of the joyful ones of the past. Donnie's didn't have many friends, so he didn't throw a massive party, but that never bothered him in the past. He had April and that's all he needed.

But the lack of friends wasn't the problem.

No, it was the diagnosis he had gotten the month before. It was the fact that he was spending his birthday in the hospital. It was that his head was constantly being stabbed.

Donnie just wanted to go home and eat cake with his family just like every other birthday he's had.

He didn't want to be in the hospital. He wanted to be in his own room where it was safe. He didn't want to see the doctors and them tell him that he was going to be okay. He wanted to cuddle up with his dad and watch a Lou Jitsu movie.

Too many things were changing too fast. He didn't want that. He wanted things to stay the same. He wanted to feel the comfort of knowing what to expect next.

Splinter, Carol, Kirby, and April came into the room. In each of their hands, there was a different gift for Donnie. One of the doctors followed them in, a cake in her hands.

"Happy birthday, Donnie," Dr. Huntley said softly.

Donnie stared at her then looked at his feet that were covered by the white blanket on his bed. He didn't feel like celebrating when there wasn't much to celebrate for.

"So, we decided that you get to decorate your room however you want."

"Why?"

"Because you're going to be spending a lot of time in here. Might as well have a room you like the look of." Dr. Huntley set the cake down. "You'll feel more comfortable."

"I don't wanna stay here! I wanna go home!"

"I know, Donnie, but we need to be able to help you. Having you stay here for a while will allow us to do just that."

Donnie pouted and crossed his arms. "I don't need help! I just healthy!"

"Donatello," Splinter said softly as he sat in the chair next to the bed. "I know you don't don't like this, but you're sick. You need help. Eventually, you'll be able to get out of here and stay at home."

He grunted. "Fine. But just cause you said so."

"Thank you."

April climbed into bed with him. She frowned as she got a good look at her surrogate cousin.

His face had lost some color and tears rested in his eyes from the pain his head held. IVs were in his arms and a heart monitor was connected to his pointer finger. She's only seen him sick once or twice as he had an insane immune system, so it was scary seeing him so sick.

"Donnie?"

He looked at her and grinned. "April!"

"I missed you."

"I missed you too." Donnie grabbed her hands. Hers were warm, while his were like ice. Donnie's hands usually did feel colder than a normal human's did, but they were so much colder than normal. "Sorry."

"It's not your fault, Don-Don. I know you didn't want this."

"I'm still sorry. I know you dun't wanna see me like this," he said with a small sniffle.

"I don't, but it's not your fault." April put her forehead against his. "And you're gunna be okay. You're super strong!"

"I am?"

"Uh huh! Super strong?"

"If you heal up well, you'll be able to start training at my dojo," Splinter cut in softly.

Dr. Huntley nodded. "But you've gotta get healthy. Which I know you can do. April's right, you're super strong."

"You think?"

"Yep."

Donnie grinned and giggled. "Thank you."

"No problem. Do you want to open your presents?"

"Yeah!"

Chapter Seven

#rottmnt #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt au #rottmnt leo #rottmnt angst #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt raph #growin' up wrong #cancer arc

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withoutmonsterswebecomethem · 22 days ago

Text

Bryn grinned, “I know. Took a masterclass in telling jokes, can you tell?” He looked off to one side, letting another wave of sickness run its course as he swallowed down the waves. He curled his nose a bit when Benny was talking of negating even dark chocolate. Furthermore, he really didn't pay attention to the sweetness. Perhaps because it didn't seem to matter to him. As his career had begged for a lot of movement, the worry of such things was quite insignificant overall. So more sweet, on top of sweet, wasn't at all a big deal. He gave a nod of his head and looked to the other once again when they asked, trying to verify, if he had had pumpkin-shaped marshmallows, “Oh yeah. Back home, old expired foods were all the rage. I don't think they were the purest form of a pumpkin-shaped marshmallow. But, hey, beggars can't be choosers, right?”

Closing his eyes just when Benny was quieting the Be Our Guest song, he raised his eyebrows, “Wow. That sounded, like, fantastic. You ever consider singing regularly?” He teased. Opening his eyes after a moment's silence, hearing Benny's next comment he glances up, thinking about how to respond to that, “So, you want to be called princess, and invited onto a magic carpet ride? Then, you want to go to a whole new world? Huh. Yeah, you are really in your Aladdin era tonight, aren't you?” Though, he had no room to talk, as he had done something similar, himself. Leaving to restart his life somewhere else.

“Oh. It's a small town, you really had to have messed up for everyone to not trust you.” Though he couldn't really remember if there was anything to add to that, as, he had never really tuned in that much on the town gossip. Being a shut-in for the first couple of years, he lived here, recovering. More or less something along those lines. Absently, his hand moved to rub against a scar under his outfit, on his chest. Maybe that's helped him, he thought, in not being so quick to judge these people, with all their problems. Trust issues, being convinced others in the town hated them, and all. “Oh. Well, uhm. Mindy's nice, if you know them? I talk to them a lot. And. Mio. Annisa. Blue.” He was starting to see he didn't have much in the way of friends, though he had known several others around town, “Uh. Addison. Annaki. Dustin. Ava. I met some guy outside a Halloween store recently, he knows about Godzilla, and that was fun.” All very good people to talk to, If you have talked to?”

At the other's comment on his explanation, he gave a nod, “Yes. It really broke her. That whole thing. Yeah, it is.” He grinned at Benny's questioning and leaned up a bit, “Because. I'm a fire demon, she's an ice demon. And she's innocent and good. And I'm…not. There's something broken in me. And I don't want her to have to worry for me.” He made a face, amused by how into this story Benny was getting, “No. We don't. My color theme is black and white, with purple aura. Hers is a teal blue-green, sea foam-like color. Her hair and clothes are this color. She's also shorter than I am. We both have red eyes, though. She would be happier not knowing I'm alive, I guess.” He shrugged and dropped back down, wishing he had siblings or family. But only for a moment, before brushing it off.

"You're so funny," Benny said with a chuckle. It wasn't funny, but the situation was funny though. He didn't mind the humour at all. "Not even with dark chocolate, really, marshmallows are sweet enough already, don't need to put other stuff on it. Just pure pumpkin-shaped marshmallows." He closed his eyes again, bit his underlip, tried to imagine the actual marshmallows, but found that talking about it made him less eager to eat it. He'd be good if didn't have any more marshmallows or sweets. Perhaps he'd eaten too much. "Yeah? You ate them?" he asked.

Another chuckle, then he grinned and started singing in as low a voices as he could muster. "Be my guest, be my guest, put your spirits to the test, blah blah blaah blah, blah bla-bah, something something and the rest." He hummed in response to the suggestion, trying to remember the movie, it had been long ago, and he certainly hadn't seen the live-action version. He just knew the songs. Or at least he knew the best song by heart. He shook his head. "Or someone who likes to be called princess. I'd probably step on a magic carpet too, to be honest. Fly far away from here." He shrugged, still had his eyes closed, if it wasn't for the cold, he could probably doze off. "Also yeah, wouldn't say it's an easy search to find someone who might trust me."

"Others that are nice to talk to? Alright, pretty, name a few, yeah? Talking is always a good start."

"I appreciate the long explanation," he commented. "Though your poor mother... She lost both her kids? That's fucked up." He still had no idea who it was of course, he could barely remember most of the animated shows he'd seen before on the television, the few there were. "Also why would your twin sister not like to know who you are? You probably look alike, right?" Siblings, that was always a touchy subject, it was easier to imagine he was like Aladdin, an only child.

#▌◊ Benny #Threads

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nemobeatrice · 2 years ago

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The Golden Miners- Chapter 2: A Fun Day

...I couldn't think of a good chapter title.

Ao3

Quotev

Wattpad

Fugo woke up next to Giorno, who looked away but suddenly tossed in bed to face him. He still slept. This moment was unreal. They slept together in Minecraft, and now he was physically here in his bed. Instead of getting up, he continued to lie down there to admire his lover. Time passed while they lay together, and the light angled to shine on Giorno’s eyelids, arising him from his slumber. He woke to Fugo’s smile greeting him and placed his palm on Fugo’s cheek.

“Ah, so this is real,” Giorno said.

Fugo mimicked his actions. “Yeah, it is. I can’t believe it.”

Their faces got closer, and they kissed, embracing each other in bed. Fugo’s fingers brushed Giorno’s soft blond locks.

“My parents wouldn’t allow this.” Fugo sat on the bed, trying to figure out what had happened yesterday. “What did your dad do?”

“Convinced them.” Giorno sat, shrugging his shoulders. “I’m not sure how, though.”

Someone knocked on the door, startling the two out of bed. “It’s time for breakfast,” a servant said.

“I doubt they made food for you,” Fugo said. “You could finish mine.”

“No, it’s alright. Eat. Maybe we could get some ice cream. That probably sounds strange, huh? Ice cream in the morning?”

“Yeah, but I think some stores are open at 9:30 AM. Maybe it’s not that strange.” Fugo looked at the clock. “It’s only eight. Come on. Let’s get dressed and head downstairs. Judging from the aroma, I think the chef just baked something.”

They got dressed and headed to the dining table. To their surprise, the servants made breakfast for Giorno as well. Unfortunately, they had to sit with Fugo’s parents. The boys sat down, eating their brioches and sipping fresh orange juice in awkward silence. Fugo examined his mother, hoping to understand how she became less strict. A zit was on her forehead, but he thought it would be rude to point out and wasn’t looking forward to being chewed out in front of his boyfriend. Curious, he wanted to look at his father, but the newspaper he read covered his face. Fugo then looked at Giorno, who also looked at him.

“Finish quickly?” Giorno asked quietly.

Fugo nodded, and both started inhaling their food and drink, finishing in a few seconds. “Please excuse us,” he said.

The two got up and walked out of the dining room. Fugo peeped from the doorway to see their reaction, and they had none.

“Is it always like that at the dinner table?” Giorno asked.

“They usually talk about the news,” Fugo answered. “You still want to get some ice cream?”

He smiled. “Yeah! I’m thinking about getting two scoops—one chocolate and one pistachio. What about you?”

“I knew you were going to say that. I think I’ll get the usual.”

“Strawberry?”

“Yep!”

The boys headed out, walking the hot streets of Naples on a gorgeous sunny day. A little past 9:30, they found an open ice cream parlor and ordered the ice cream they said they were getting. They continued walking around Naples while eating.

“Fugo, where shall we head next? I was thinking about heading to Ovo Castle. It’s not that far off, right?”

The castle was a few walks away, and they were at the Rotonda di Via Nazario Sauro.

“If we walk south, we should see it,” he said. “Let’s head over there!”

They walked further down, where the Fontana del Gigante was, and bumped into Sheila, who was alone.

“Oh, hey!” she greeted. “What are you guys doing here?”

“We were heading to Ovo Castle,” Fugo answered. “Giorno wanted to see it. I could ask you the same thing. Where’s Trish, and how’s Clara?”

“She’s at home. She asked me to check if the roundabout was full of people. As for Clara, she’s still heartbroken. Let me just text Trish.” She brought out her phone and quickly texted her. “I asked her to come, but she said she’ll stay inside for now. Oh, that reminds me.” She looked at their ice cream. “It’s going to be blazing hot for a few days. I’ll need to buy ice cream. Anyways, can I come?”

“Of course!” Giorno replied.

They walked past the port of Santa Lucia and walked the pier to the castle.

“Wow, this castle is big,” Giorno commented.

They entered, and to the right was a large painting of the town back then. They explored the rest of the castle, but Giorno wanted to head to the top. There, they had a view of the city and Mount Vesuvius.

“That mountain right there is a volcano, isn’t it?” Giorno asked. “When do you think it’ll erupt again?”

“Not sure,” Fugo answered.

“If that ever happens, I hope I’m far away,” Sheila replied.

“Fugo, I just remembered something,” Giorno said. “Remember my lock screen? Will you take a photo with me? Sheila, do you want to take the photo?”

“Sure,” they both said.

Giorno handed his phone to Sheila before standing next to Fugo. They both smiled, and she took the shot, returning to phone to him. He set the photo to his lock and home screen.

“No offense, Giorno, but you look like a tourist,” Sheila commented.

“Aren’t I, though?” He wore a loosely buttoned off-white-colored shirt with light blue vertical stripes, black shorts, and the same sandals from yesterday.

“Yeah, but…” Her thoughts drifted. “We need to go shopping for clothes.”

He looked at his boyfriend. “Do I look bad?”

“You look fine, babe. But do you want new clothes?”

“Mother packed most of my clothes. I want to get rid of them.”

“I know a place.” Sheila smiled.

Trish was there when they arrived at the fancy clothing store. It was unexpected.

“She’ll help us,” Sheila said.

So many outfits were on display and looked costly. It was hard for Giorno to decide until he saw a dark green floral suit.

Trish noticed. “I don’t think green is your color.”

He looked at a mustard yellow suit.

“No, no yellow!” she commented. “Disgusting.”

“What about orange?” Giorno questioned.

“Nothing in this store is orange, but let me look.” Trish wandered the store.

“I have something orange at home,” Fugo said. “Maybe you can try that on once we get back.”

“But your clothes have holes in them,” he said.

Trish returned with a pink and dark blue outfit. Both of them had a boob window. “That should keep you cool. I wasn’t sure if you liked pink, so I got the blue one.”

“I like both. Let me try them on to see if they fit.”

Giorno took the clothes and headed to the fitting room. When he got out, he wore the blue one.

“How do I look?”

“Perfect,” Fugo replied.

“Much better now,” Trish commented. “Try on the pink one!”

He went back in to change and got out. “Okay, what about now?”

“Perfect!” Trish said.

“I think I prefer the blue,” Fugo replied. “You still great.”

“Guess I should change back to blue.”

“No!” Trish stopped him. “Wear pink, please! I came all the way over here!”

“I guess I’ll wear this,” Giorno said. “Am I going to pay this? Maybe I should’ve asked my dad for money before we left.”

“Since you paid for the fan art of our original characters,” Fugo began, “I’ll pay for clothes and anything else you want here.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course.” Fugo went up to him to kiss and hug him. “Now, where shall we do together?”

“I’m not sure,” Giorno replied. “Has anyone heard from Narancia and Mista?”

“Oh, those two?” Sheila said. “I texted them, and they said they were playing Just Dance. It’s been hours. Let me text them again.” She texted and got a response. “Wow, Narancia told me they were taking a bathroom break before playing Just Dance again.”

“They’re going to destroy their bodies at this rate,” Fugo commented. “Maybe we should check on them. Whose house are they playing it at?”

“Let me text him back. It’s Narancia’s house. He says we’re free to join him. Are we going?”

“We need to stop him. Let’s go!”

The four rushed to Narancia’s house. Narancia’s dad answered the door when Fugo knocked, face unexpressive.

“May we come in?” Fugo asked.

“Who’s the other blond?” He gave Giorno a dirty look.

“That’s my boyfriend.”

“Oh, I know who you are now! Dyed your hair blond, huh? Narancia did, too, until it got him into some trouble. Anyways, come on in, I guess. Don’t make a mess.”

They went inside and headed to Narancia’s room. Since Mista and Narancia played Just Dance together, Giorno expected his bedroom to be spacious. It was, but the messy state of it made it look cluttered. Clothes, old missing homework, and things lay on the floor. Sheila covered her nose for some reason despite none of the others smelling anything.

“Do you even clean your room?” Trish questioned.

“Sup!” Narancia greeted them while dancing to Beautiful Liar by Beyoncé and Shakira. His face was sweaty, and his hair clung to his skin.

“If you want to improve your dancing scores, I’d be best if you’d clean up,” Fugo suggested. “Seriously, this place is filthy! Mista, you don’t have a problem with this?”

“Busy!” he responded, focusing on the dance moves on the screen.

“I—Ugh!” Fugo stood in front of the TV.

“Fugo, move your skinny ass!” Narancia yelled.

“If I’m skinny, you should be able to see the screen.”

Mista stopped. “I think we should stop. I’m getting tired.”

“I’m not stopping! Fugo, move! Now!”

He crossed his arms. “Clean your room, now!”

Narancia growled. “You’re not my dad!” He lunged at Fugo and threw a barrage of punches. Giorno tried to get them away from each other, but Narancia ended up elbowing him in the eye and knocking him to the floor.

“You little bastard!” Fugo found a fork on the floor and stabbed him with it.

“Oh my gosh!” Trish said before covering her mouth.

“Guys, please!” Sheila begged.

Narancia’s dad busted the door open, furious. “What the hell is going on here?” He looked at the two boys who stopped fighting. “Fugo, do I have to tell your parents this? And Narancia, how did you get a fork in your face? How did this fight even start?”

“Honey, what’s wrong?” said a woman’s voice. She then appeared at the doorway. It was Mela. “Oh, goodness! Pink boy, is your eye okay?”

Narancia turned around to look at him. “Oh shit, Giorno, I had no idea. I’m sorry!”

His father sighed. “My boy, are you going to explain what happened here?”

He looked down, not wanting to face him.

Giorno noticed this and explained to Narancia’s dad what caused the fight. “Forgive me. I started it. I complained that his room was filthy and asked him to clean it up, but he was in the middle of the dance. I got impatient and blocked the TV, hoping he’ll clean it. Fugo didn’t like how Narancia kept ignoring me, and that’s when the fight started.”

“I knew you were trouble!” Narancia’s father scowled. “Fugo, since I don’t know how to contact his parents, I’ll contact yours!”

“Wait, sweetheart, how many times have you told Narancia to clean his room?” Mela asked.

“Well…” He tried to recall.

“As I thought. No, don’t call Fugo’s parents. Pink boy—”

“His name is Giorno,” Narancia interrupted.

“Giorno, thank you for telling my son to clean up.”

“You’re welcome. Can my friends stay here while I wait outside?”

“Outside? What for?”

“Am I still allowed in here?”

“Of course!” Mela looked at her husband. “Don’t you think you were being harsh towards him?”

Narancia’s dad looked at Giorno. “I’m sorry. I misjudged you.” He then paid attention to his son. “You better clean up right now.”

“Yes, dad.”

Narancia’s parents went away.

“You guys can play Just Dance while I clean up,” Narancia said.

“There’s not any room for us,” Trish said, inspecting Giorno’s eye injury.

“How are you going to explain that to your dad?” Mista asked. “He may be hot, but he’s scary.”

“Wait, you saw his dad?” Sheila asked. “What was he like?”

“Pale and his accent sounded British. Like Giorno, he’s also blond.”

“Wait, you heard a British accent?” Fugo questioned.

“You didn’t? Come on! He sounded like a foreigner.”

“I was enjoying my time with Giorno too much to notice. Hold on. Could I use your computer?”

“Yeah, of course!” Narancia replied while cleaning. He cleared the floors first in case his friends wanted to dance. “Can’t do anything else right now.”

Fugo sat at the desk, turned on the computer, and went on Google. “Alright, so, Giorno, your dad said he attended Hugh Hudson Academy, right?”

“Yeah.” Giorno stood next to him. “Are you looking him up?”

He stayed silent, focused on his research. “That’s in the United Kingdom. Oh my god, look at the tuition fees. I could probably attend there!”

“Oh my god!” Mista blurted. “Giorno’s British!”

Narancia gasped.

“Why are you guys freaking out?” Giorno asked. “I’m shocked, too, but it’s not a big deal.”

“Dude, your dad is British and is filthy rich,” Narancia replied.

“Yeah, I would start demanding answers,” Trish said. “But we should do something about your eye before he starts demanding answers too.”

“The floor is looking clean,” Sheila commented. “How about you worry about that later, and we all could dance?”

“We all can’t play,” Mista said. “Only that number of people can play. Luckily for you guys, Narancia and I are worn out.”

“You should see how good I am at this game,” Fugo told Giorno.

Giorno, Fugo, Sheila, and Trish danced for about an hour until they got tired. Mela came to check on them and brought them water. All of them had fun until Sheila realized the sun was setting.

“Hey, it’s getting late,” Sheila said. “We should probably leave.”

“Man, I don’t want to leave!” whined Mista.

“You can stay here, Mista,” Narancia said.

“Really?”

“Yeah!”

“What about us?” Sheila asked.

“Um, I’ll have to ask my parents,” replied Narancia. “Wait here a second.” He left his room and returned a few minutes later. “My parents said you can stay for the night but have to sleep on the floor. Oh, and we can’t blast loud music past ten. My dad has work tomorrow, and he needs to get up early. Giorno, is your dad fine with it? I already know Fugo’s answer.”

“I’ll have you know that my parents have changed completely,” Fugo said. “It’s all thanks to Giorno’s dad. I have no idea how he did it, but Giorno slept in my house last night.”

“Hoho! Giorno was in your bed?” Mista commented with a smirk on his face.

“Quit being weird!” he yelled.

“I’m just messing with you!”

“But I should call them just in case.” Fugo took out his phone and called them. The others, except Giorno, got close so they could hear. “Alright, they said I could stay for the night. One of the servants is getting our things.”

“Clara is coming by to get our things, too,” Sheila said. “I texted her a few minutes ago. She’s also getting us pizza. While we wait, what are we going to do?”

“Want to watch a movie in the living room?” Narancia suggested. “Oh, maybe we could all play a game when it’s over!”

“What movie will we be watching?” Trish asked.

“Mista and I watched Shrek a week before Giorno’s vacation, so how about Shrek 2?”

The others, except Mista, frowned.

“You guys have a serious problem with Shrek,” Fugo commented. “Seriously, how many times have you guys watched it?”

“Do not disrespect our lord and savior, Shrek!” Mista said. “I hope they come out with another Shrek movie.”

“I’ve seen so many weird artworks of Shrek and Shadow,” Trish said. “I hope they don’t.”

“So, we’re not down for Shrek 2?” Narancia wanted to confirm.

“Have you tried watching something else for once?”

“You still have the movies I brought you last time, right?” Mista asked.

“Yeah, I have two of your favorites: Pretty Woman and The Bridges of Madison County,” Narancia answered. “These movies aren’t something I’m into, but I’ll watch them for you.”

“Let’s just watch one. How about Pretty Woman? How do we all feel about that?”

“Sure, I’ll watch it,” Fugo said.

They went downstairs into the living room. Mista and Narancia sat on the couch, Trish sat on a loveseat and Sheila on a recliner, and Fugo and Giorno sat on the floor. Narancia put in the movie and turned the volume high while Mista closed the curtains and turned off the lights.

“Movie time!” Narancia said. “Sheila, is your sister here yet? I’m hungry.”

“Why would you want to eat my sister, weirdo?” Sheila joked, causing Trish to giggle.

“Hmm, I wonder what a human tastes like,” Mista commented.

“Just stop! Gross!” Fugo said.

A few minutes into the movie, Clara and Fugo’s servant brought the kids their things. Giorno had never seen Clara before, but the brunette woman looked miserable. Didn’t Sheila say she felt heartbroken? Did she break up with someone? He was curious but probably shouldn’t pester her and make her feel worse. Maybe he’ll find out later on some other day, but for now, it was time for Giorno to enjoy this movie.

After about two hours and 25 minutes, the movie ended.

“So, what did you all think?” Mista asked.

“I liked the movie,” Narancia said.

“I enjoyed it,” Trish said.

“Same,” included Sheila.

The blonds nodded their heads.

“Alright, is anyone down for a game?” Narancia asked. “I was thinking of never have I ever or truth or dare.”

“I think I’ll settle for never have I ever,” Fugo said.

“Yeah, I feel uncomfortable being forced to do something,” Trish said.

“Never have I ever it is. I’ll ask first.”

Everyone sat on the floor and got in a circle. Since Narancia started first, Fugo would be next, then Giorno, Mista, Trish, and Sheila, all in that order.

Narancia looked at Fugo. “Never had I ever had sex.”

The other sighed. “You only asked that because I told you Giorno slept at my house.”

Nobody put down a finger.

“Hmm, what a good question?” Fugo thought. “Aha! Never have I ever failed a class.”

“Come on!” Narancia cried out, putting a finger down. Mista also put a finger down.

It was Giorno’s turn. “Never have I ever cried myself to sleep.”

Sheila, Trish, and Narancia put a finger down.

“Mother got sick when she tried to find information about my dad’s whereabouts,” Trish said. “She got so gravely ill, I thought she would die.”

“My mother got sick too,” Narancia said. “What’s your reason, Sheila?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Sheila had a frown on her face.

“Never have I ever, um.” Mista thought deeply. “Cussed out a teacher.”

Fugo put down a finger.

“Never have I ever stolen anything,” Trish said.

Narancia, Mista, Giorno, and Fugo put down their fingers.

She gasped. “Giorno? Fugo? You guys stole something once?”

“Pickpocketing can be fun,” Giorno said.

“There are things that I want that my parents won’t give me,” Fugo said.

“My turn!” Sheila said. “Never have I ever faked being sick to avoid school.”

Narancia, Mista, and Fugo put down a finger.

“Never have I ever posted missed a gold move in Just Dance,” said Narancia. Fugo, Giorno, Mista, Trish, and Sheila put their finger down. “Wow, you guys suck!”

“No way you never missed a gold move,” Fugo said. “What about that time I blocked the TV?”

“There wasn’t a gold move, I think. If there was, I’m not counting that one. You sabotaged me!”

Fugo sighed. “I’m sorry about that. But, Mista, is this true?”

“I had never seen him miss a gold move when we played,” he said. He turned to Narancia. “I can see you being a dancer in the future.”

“Never have I ever forgotten my homework,” Fugo said.

Narancia, Mista, and Sheila put down a finger.

“This isn’t fair!” Narancia complained. “You’re picking things we’d do.”

“Yeah, man, you don’t have to win this,” Mista agreed.

“What do you want me to say?” Fugo asked.

“Something to let us win!” Narancia said.

“Four of my fingers are down! You two lost a whole hand! I’m right behind you guys! Anyways, your turn, love.”

Giorno noticed he and Trish had the same amount of fingers down, and Sheila had three. “Never have I ever poked my eye with an eyeliner.”

Trish put her finger down.

“Never have I ever worn lipstick,” Mista said. Giorno, Fugo, Trish, and Sheila put down a finger. Mista looked at the blonds. “I didn’t expect you two to wear lipstick.”

“It was a one-time thing,” they both said simultaneously.

“What color did you guys wear?” Narancia asked.

“Green,” Giorno said. “It was my dad’s lipstick.”

“I would describe it as a bright strawberry red,” Fugo said. “It went with an outfit I had.”

Before Trish could say anything, she whispered something to Sheila.

“Really?” the dark-haired girl said out loud, which earned a shhh from Trish.

“Never have I ever kissed a boy,” Trish said.

Mista, Narancia, Fugo, and Giorno put down a finger.

“I think you girls are planning something,” Fugo said, looking annoyed.

“We’re not,” Trish said.

“Never have I ever worn the wrong pair of socks,” Sheila said.

Trish and Narancia had their finger down.

“See, we’re not!” Trish said.

“Never have I ever gotten an answer right when called on,” Narancia said, smiling.

Everyone but him put down a finger.

“That is not something to be proud of,” Fugo commented. “Anyways, never have I ever paid for a World of Warcraft subscription.”

Trish, Sheila, Mista, and Giorno put a finger down.

“Well, I wasn’t expecting a question like that,” Trish said.

“Never have I ever kissed a girl,” Giorno said.

Trish and Sheila put their finger down.

“Never have I ever played Dark Souls,” Mista said.

Giorno, Trish, and Sheila had a finger down.

“Oh, this isn’t looking good for me,” Trish said. She had one finger up, but everybody also had one hand down. “Before anyone gets mad at me, I don’t mean sexually. Never have I ever slept with a boy.”

The blonds a finger down, causing the other two boys to giggle.

“Giorno and Fugo sitting in a tree,” Narancia sang. “K-I-S-S-I-N-G!”

Fugo’s cheeks turned red. “Shut up, or I’ll kick your ass again.”

He stuck his tongue out.

“Never have I ever got into a fight,” Sheila interrupted before the two escalated into a fight.

They sighed, putting a finger down. Mista also put a finger down.

Narancia looked at Fugo, who gave a piercing stare. “Uh, never have I ever been tutored by a girl.”

Sheila put down a finger.

“Never have I ever had a fork in my room,” Fugo said.

“Dude, I let you win!” Narancia put a finger down.

“Never have I ever liked my mother,” Giorno said.

Everyone except Fugo put a finger down.

“Damn, now the lovers are fighting,” Mista commented.

Both had one finger up.

“Never have I ever been to an amusement park,” Fugo said.

Giorno didn’t put a finger down.

“Never have I ever been to a concert,” Giorno said.

Fugo didn’t put a finger down.

“Never have I ever read Harry Potter.”

“Never have I ever written fanfiction.”

“Never have I ever watched a Twilight movie.”

“Oh boy, they’re going to be at this for a while,” Narancia complained.

The couple went at it for a few minutes until it was Fugo’s turn.

“Never have I ever played Super Smash Bros,” Fugo said, causing Giorno to put a finger down. “Oh my god! Why did I bring up gaming?”

“It’s fine,” he said. “I don’t mind losing to you.”

The two kissed tenderly and briefly.

“You two need to get a room, my gosh!” commented Narancia. He looked at the clock. “Uh, we guys should quiet it down.”

“Agreed,” Trish said. “I’m getting tired. I’m going to brush my teeth.” She got up and headed to the bathroom.

“You guys go to bed this early?” Mista questioned, looking at Sheila.

“Got to maintain that sleep schedule,” she answered.

“What time do you normally sleep for school?” Fugo asked. “I suggest sleeping at that time. You’ll feel less like shit.”

“Could I at least have the TV on?” Narancia asked.

#jjba #jojo’s bizarre adventure #giorno giovanna #pannacotta fugo #fugio #fugo x giorno #giorno x fugo #jjba fanfiction #jjba fanfic #jojo's bizarre adventure fanfiction

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sunshineistyping · 3 years ago

Note

Yo! If it isn’t too much, a romantic human au Sundrop x Reader?

I absolutely can, Theres a bit more description in this one, but depict him how you'd like!

Shared Lunch

Pairing: Sundrop/Sunny/Sun X GN!Reader

Au: Human Au

Warnings: None

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

“Oh wow, what a beautiful drawing!” You heard your coworker exclaim as you walked past his designated room. He was always the loudest, but that was to be expected since he dealt with kids who had relatively short attention spans. You can't quite remember what ages he deals with since you're usually in the nursery. You tend to be a bit of a floater at work, you're trained to work with every group of children so whoever needs help usually gets you for the day. It just so happens that the nursery is almost always understaffed. A quick glance to the clock lets you know that his group of rambunctious kids would soon be sent outside with another caretaker. Otherwise known as his only break in the day.

You know he doesn't mind being with the kids for lunch too, he’s expressed his love for them often, but sometimes you worry he may overwork himself. I mean you do love his affection towards them but you wish he’d let himself take a break. You nodded lightly as you passed the main office worker and made your way to the back rooms. It didn't take long for you to make a decent lunch for you both, sandwiches, chips, and iced drinks. At this point you knew his favorite foods by heart, though that's probably just because you've made it a habit to eat together. You carried the tray back to his room, a quiet shuffling behind the door being the only sound from inside. At least the kids were gone. You knocked with your free hand.

“Well hello, nice to see you as always!” There he was, your tall blonde coworker with a smile that made your heart melt.

“Hey Sunny, I got lunch.”

“You do, as you have for the past few weeks.” He chuckled and slid the door wider for you. As expected the place was spotless, you're not sure how he cleans the kid's messes so fast but everything was always meticulously organized. You do mean completely organized too, color-coded, numbered, put in alphabetical order. The whole shebang. Yet even then the room never felt stuffy or cold, it was almost like walking into a fantasy world. Every surface had a theme, the ceiling had a day and night cycle, there was dragon laying in the center of the room. It was a bit off looking in the color department, but that's because of something really cool. You'd learned a while ago that each individual scale had a child's name. It was his project, each new kid got to choose their scale and color making the whole thing pop like one big rainbow.

“You like the dragon huh? It's been a while since you last saw it.” You blinked a few times realizing the weight of the tray you'd once felt had long been lifted from your hands and placed at his desk. You turned to him your eyes catching the pale steel color. His eyes were so pretty, so unbelievably pretty. They fit him so well with his fluffy blonde hair and softer features.

“Yeah, it's really something, any new kids?” You ask and make your way towards the seat he'd set out for you. He took a sip of his drink before nodding simply.

“Just one, a little unruly but nothing I can't handle.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm, her names Vanessa, refuses to go by anything but Vanny. She insists that its because she's the bunny princess. You should hear her too, very convincing.” He smirks as he looks towards her cubby, a bunny plush and various other bunny-themed items inside.

“Convincing? Let me guess, you played the part and now you're her servant.”

“You know me all too well,” he let out quite the dramatic sigh before leaning back in his office chair.

“What about you, hm? What's new in the nursery.”

“Oh you know, same old thing as always, cranky babies and naps.” You both make small talk, enjoying lunch together as always. You weren't together or anything, but that didn't stop you from flirting. You never asked if he had a wife, and he did wear tons of rings, but never anything reoccurring on his ring finger. Then again he swapped his rings constantly so it's hard to say. Of course that didn't matter, he didn't like you, he allowed the flirting because it was fun. At least that's what you told yourself, you'd been working together for months and neither of you made a move. So it's safe to say the attraction is one-sided. You glance at the clock.

“Damn, kids will be back in a minute or two. That means it's almost time for me to feed, like, fifteen babies.” You laugh and stand, adjusting your shirt as Sunny goes to walk you to the door in the same routine you've followed every day.

“Make sure you don't drop one like last time.”

“So it's you who's been making those jokes!” You pout and lightly poke him, he laughs once again, brightening like the sun. That's why you called him Sunny. That moment right there, when his smile turns so agonizingly sweet it gives you cavities. That's the entire reason.

“Well, you know me, always bullying you. Now, you should get to bottle-feeding!”

“See you after work?”

“Of course My Love, you always do.” There was a pause, him frozen as he stood in the doorway and you standing in the hallway. Did...did he just? You don't get the chance to speak as his group of kids runs in from playing outside, all being loud. You watch the blonde switch to autopilot, immediately bringing all the kids into his room. He nods as they talk and laughs with them, once they're all inside he takes a pause, eyes locking with yours. He gives an apologetic look, eyes shifting back into his room once or twice.

“We’ll talk about that later, for now, go take care of those kids. It's your job Sunshine,” his cheeks all but burn at the new nickname. He slides back into the room with a little shy smile you've never seen him wear before. How adorable, you hum and make your way back to the nursery. Your world is just a little brighter now. ------------------------------------------------------

#sundrop x reader #security breach x reader #fnaf x reader #fnaf au #human au #gender neutral insert #gender neutral reader

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strawberrykake · 2 years ago

Text

Overworking Yourself

notes: requested. reader practices karate. fluff!

[ fem!reader ] : oikawa. akaashi.

♢ oikawa 🏐💞🥋

“Hey, baby” Oikawa hugs you a little too eagerly, not noticing the throbbing pain of your bruises from a long day of karate practice.

“Agh!” you groan a little, making him pull away immediately to inspect you.

“Sorry, sorry! Did I hurt you?” He notices scrapes on the top of your knuckles, a couple bruises and he immediately knows the cause.

You knew Oikawa is the type who deeply believes that 'practice makes perfect'. Perhaps it’s what you both had in common. Though he respects your tenacity, he hates to see you in this state.

The first time he’d seen you like this, he asked for the names of your opponents, those who got you hurt like this. In the end, you calmed him down and he learned to understand.

He holds you tenderly this time, making sure not to press harshly. Worry fills his brown orbs. You smile weakly, and jokingly say “I’m fine. You should’ve seen the other guys.” Your attempt at lightening the situation succeeds when your boyfriend lets out a chuckle.

Of course, being your biggest supporter, he truly believed in your skills and had no doubt that you could fight back. But he will still spoil you and treat you like a fragile little flower that would wilt at the slightest touch.

“Yeah?” He smiles and it makes your heart flutter from how pretty he is when he does. “C’mon, let me treat you today. My baby must be exhausted isn’t she?”

You decide to play along to his cheesy remark as usual, nodding with a small pout and looking at him through your lashes. “Mhmm.”

Oikawa mimics your pout, grazing your bottom lip with his thumb. “S’okay. I gotchu, baby. I’ll make you feel all better again.” And then he places a kiss to your lips.

Oikawa spends the rest of the day keeping that promise. He made sure you rested well, patching up wounds, gathering some refreshing snacks, face masks and kissing your bruises away.

♢ akaashi 🏐💞🥋

You didn’t have to say anything. The moment Akaashi saw you, his heart dropped and so did the contents in his hands. He rushed over to hold you close, pressing his lips to your forehead as a way of greeting.

“Where does it hurt?” he says softly, eyes darting over your body.

Akaashi was always there for you. After karate practice, he’d be waiting for you outside with an extra water bottle in hand, sometimes bringing snacks or a pack of ice in case of emergency. The compartment in his car also has a first-aid kit ready for use.

“I’m fine, Keiji.” you assure him, not wanting to have him worry too much. “Jus’ a bit tired is all.”

But he’s unconvinced, placing his hand to your cheeks so that you could look him in the eye. “Hmm.” Then, pulls at your sleeve to reveal small bruises. “Honey,” he starts off, sighing. “Tell me where it hurts. I can help alleviate the pain.”

Your heart thumps, realizing how close he was. “Mkay.” Akaashi smiles and leans down to give you a kiss. He can’t believe this cute girl is the same one that knows karate. No one amazed him like you did.

“C’mon, let me give you some ice.”

And as your boyfriend gives you the ice, relieving the pain as he had promised, he wonders out loud: “why do you have to work so hard, huh”. Your eyes flicker to his solemn ones. A small pout forms on his lips.

“Okay, Mr. Setter. I could ask the same thing for you.” You place your hand over his. His pinky finger was wrapped in a bandaid, probably from earlier volleyball practice.

“Guess we’re just too good to back down,” he chuckles. He pulls you in again, making sure not to press the bruises on you. “Just…try not to get more bruises next time, please.”

You laugh at his request. “I’ll try my best, Keiji.”

taglist ｡⋆｡˚ ʚïɞ ˚｡⋆｡

@dai-tsukki-desu @crystal-lilac @remajalabill @ashisbored @yuubabe @luvrzumi

#🍙—reader inserts #🥪—requests #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa x reader #akaashi keiji x reader #akaashi x reader #haikyuu fluff #oikawa fluff #akaashi fluff

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skyesdaisys · 7 months ago

Text

it is now time my my usual live me reaction of rushing to this fic asap

now time for me and sunny's favorite thing. my comments!

“Hank.” Dawn says his name sharper this time, capturing his attention as he stares at Dick with fire burning in his eyes. She nods toward Rachel, who is staring at all of them with confusion. -> Dawn: hank. there is a child in our presence right now, let's not get into love triangle bullshit (though that triangle hardly exists atp)

“You’re an asshole.” Dick replied, still feeling the ache of a fight or flight response tearing through him as he tried to calm down. -> And you're still a dick (pun intended), but I don't judge

“Y/N,” Dawn smiled, walking over to give you a hug after you had set everything down. You embraced her tightly for a moment before she pulled away with a smile. Dick rolled his eyes at this - still annoyed at your presence. He would never admit it, but he was upset that Dawn was much happier to see you than she had been when he had arrived. -> I would've - out of pettiness - kissed Dawn in front of Dick to piss him off, but I also wouldn't out of respect for Hank (rip king 🙏)

“Rachel. Hi.” You cut off Dawn as she made the introduction, giving a gentle wave toward Rachel while she nodded shyly at you. -> RACHEL, MY BELOVED <3333 SWEETEST ANGEL THAT CAN KILL YOU (my best girl, tbh. well, it's either her or kory, depending on my current mood)

“A large black coffee for grumpy pants.” You said, holding out a cup towards Dick. -> YEAH. TELL IT HOW IT IS.

“Dawn, I got your stupid fru-fru coconut ice cream. I had to go to three different stores for it, and-” -> get yourself a man like hank who'll go to multiple different stores to get your favorite ice cream. a true man (take notes, dick)

“Well, isn’t this a real goddamn-” “A real goddamn summer camp.” You cut him off, literally stealing the words out of his mouth. “God, I fucking hate it when you do that.” Hank sighed -> and you should be used to it by now but you know....... I get it

“You know, you always were my favorite.” He replied, quickly changing his tune as he came to grab the treat from you, a snarky smile spreading across his lips. -> of course I am, who wouldn't like me (don't answer that)

You almost added on ‘apparently they like me more than they like you, anyway’ - but you didn’t feel the need to kick him so badly when he was already down. -> and as they should,I'm a goddamn delight to be around. also also at least I didn't get with his ex not long after they broke up, dick (violating bro code)

“Okay, okay, I get it now.” Dick smirked sarcastically, crossing his arms firmly over his chest, making his biceps bulge inside of his button down shirt in a way that was far too appealing. -> literally the description of how he's looking right now like... you wanna fuck him so bad

“You don’t like me spending time with Dawn.” He declared, continuing to smirk at you as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. -> OH....... the idea of me being jealous of you and Dawn turns you on? ofc it does, you fucking hornball

You were never going to tell him - but Dick and his controlling nature had gotten people killed before. -> *cough* Jericho *cough*

You liked Dawn. She was one of your best friends. -> Yeah.... sure.... "friends" (at least in my mind, we aren't just friends)

No matter how angry you were with him, you couldn’t let him die. -> Yeah. She's gonna lose her mind when he dies in season 3, huh?

“My mother - she died when I was about your age.” You told her, knowing that it was likely something she needed to hear. -> Yay! Bonding with Rachel over dead moms <3

“So, wait - are these kinds of powers… genetic?” She asked eagerly, seeming to perk with interest at this. -> She's just like me fr, I would also be intrigued as well

It can always be comforting to know that you’re not alone. -> FOUND FAMILY <33333 (we just need kory and gar, and we'll be all good)

“I don’t appreciate the attitude.” You ground out, looking up at him to find nothing but pure fear staring back at you. “Now - Shut. Up.” -> yes babe, put your man in his place

“What kind of voodoo bullshit is she doing?” Hank huffed out, having just made it down the fire escape himself. “Be quiet and let her work.” Dick told him, waving a dismissive hand in Hank’s direction. -> Yes, babe, defend your girl

AGH. SOOOOO EXCITED FOR THE NEXT PART (will still try to be patient, of course, I respect your process)

One Moment Per Episode With Dick Grayson

Season One, Episode Two: "Hawk and Dove"

Summary:

Even though Dick denies that he needs your help, you can't let other innocent people - like Hank, Dawn, and Rachel - get caught in the crossfire of his stubbornness and annoyance toward you.

So when you have a vision of Dick fleeing back to some of the only friends he knows, you don't hesitate to chase him. And yes - you make sure to bring coffee this time.

Dick Grayson x Fem!Powered!Reader. Childhood Friends/Exes to Lovers. Emotional Angst and Bantering/Humor. Set during Season 1, Episode 2.

Word Count: 6,000

DC Titans Masterlist | AO3 Link

Detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: the reader uses she/her pronouns - I still want to warn that some people might accuse this character of being an OC/might consider this an OC, but the reader received a great reception in the last chapter, so you guys might like her uniqueness if you read this; as usual with my stories, the majority of pronouns used in the fic are you/yours; and other than clothing style and a scar that informs her backstory, the reader's looks are not described and are left vague (as far as race, body type, hair colour, etc. - those things are not described); the reader character does have powers - the reader character is psychic and can see glimpses of the future in dream-like visions; the reader actually has a vision in this one (and there is more descriptions of her visions in general) (looking back, I wish I would have opened the first chapter on a vision of the apocalypse but oh well); the reader and Dick are 'exes' - their relationship was never official (they never explicitly called each other boyfriend/girlfriend), but they used to have sex often (and they both have feelings for each other that they never openly spoke about), and they are childhood friends, so there is a lot of emotional history there; this fic uses Y/N; this whole chapter (and this whole series, really) involves intense criticism of Dick's character - the Titans version specifically - so if you don't like that and if you don't like the Titans characterization of him, then turn back now; mentions of canon-typical violence; non-graphic descriptions of Dick having an infected wound as a child (speaking to his characterization); mentions of non-canon character deaths - happening in non-canon branching paths in the reader's visions (things that don't come true, but have the opportunity to come true if she doesn't interfere); mentions of gun violence; lots of stereotypical monogamous jealousy going on here - some canon, and some not (not the kind of thing my poly ass typically writes, but it does well with Dick's toxic personality, so I like it) - Hank being jealous of Dick and Dawn's reunion, and Dick trying to evoke jealousy from the reader over his past relationship with Dawn (though I have made it clear in the text that Dick doesn't have feelings for Dawn anymore); Dick accidentally pointing a gun at the reader (because of mistaken identity); this time there is equal pining and horniness between Dick and the reader (mostly because I am a simp for Dick in that navy button down shirt, unf); mentions of Dick's past trauma (the death of his parents) and his PTSD reactions because of it; mentions of Dick and the reader having sex in the past and their sexual desire toward each other and some mild sexual themes, but there is no explicit smut in this chapter (there might be some in future chapters); the reader gets injured in a fight with The Family; mentions of Dawn's canon injuries and subsequent coma; I believe that's it for this part.

A/N: I actually wanna say that this chapter was complete and ready to be edited in my drafts, and because of the comments and feedback I got on the last chapter, I actually went in and made some additions to this chapter. People really seemed to like the banter between Dick and the reader character, and there wasn't much of it in this part, so I made sure to add more of it - because if you guys tell me that you like a certain aspect of a fic, I will play up that aspect in future chapters or in future fics. That is why commenting matters. Writers listen to your detailed feedback and put it into future stories - we aren't just looking for comments to stroke our egos. So if you guys like this chapter and the banter in it, know that you helped shape it from what it originally was!

...

Dick had basically told you to fuck off - he didn’t want to be involved, but he already was.

The events were already set into motion around him, and there was nothing he could do to stop it now. So - rather than turn around and go all the way back home, you had simply gotten a hotel room in Detroit, waiting for him to ask for your help, or waiting for some signal that he would truly need you.

You fell into an easy sleep, and soon - that signal came to you.

…

A rooftop. Two old friends. Tense smiles under a beautifully bright day that didn’t suit them.

“She killed someone?” Dawn nods toward Rachel, who is sitting beside the large dove house that Hank built, looking at the gentle animals in quiet fascination. She feels peaceful in their presence. “She’s just a kid.”

That’s what he wants. He wants everyone to underestimate her.

“Whoever they are, they’ve got people in the department.” Dick replies.

He’s talking about the people who kidnapped her right out from under his nose - the ones who nearly succeeded in making her a ritual sacrifice. Just one of many forces that were coming after her. One of many forces that seek to harm her.

“We needed somewhere safe to regroup.” He adds on. “And think about what I’m gonna do.”

Somewhere safe?

“What about Bruce?” Dawn poses.

Of course Dick wouldn’t go fleeing back to him. Daddy issues. He thinks of Dawn and Hank as his true family. The Titans have always been his true family. Since losing the Circus, it’s the only family that he’s known.

Oh. Somewhere safe. Of course.

Dick visibly shudders at the thought of going back to Bruce. “He’s no good with kids.”

That's an understatement.

“A cop, huh?” Dawn gives him a small grin. “That’s one I never would’ve figured.”

Well, he seeks out order. But he's a stubborn, bull-headed person who demands to be the leader at all times. He’s terrible at following rules that he hasn't made - terrible at falling under someone else's authority. He thinks that being a police officer is bringing forth real justice.

It was never meant to last.

Dick knew this. He doesn’t like admitting his own faults. So, he rushes to change the subject.

“How are you?” He asks Dawn, clearly curious.

It’s almost as though he wants her to say that her life has been notably worse without the Titans. Just like his has been.

It's been too long since he's spoken to her. He loves running without looking back. It’s something that he’s very good at.

“We’re great.” Dawn answers, flashing him a smile. She's insistent on this ‘we' - reminding Dick that she's not alone. She's not a single person anymore. “Hank’s feeling the life a little. Age waits for no man, and all that.”

Of course. This should have been obvious to him, but he’s a little too absorbed in his own problems to consider it.

“How bad?” Dick asks the obvious question.

“Two fractures, three concussions in the last year, and a herniated disc.” Dawn replies honestly.

Dick has been through worse. He acts like it’s nothing, but it’s not. He’s the type of man to attempt to put a band-aid on a bullet wound. While traveling with the Circus, he stepped on a nail once, and tried to hide it from his parents - pulled it out himself and only told them when the wound began to fester and get infected.

Fiercely independent and stubborn, even back then.

“Jesus, Dawn.”

Yet, he acts as though this is surprising. He acts as though this isn’t the norm when you exchange your bodily safety for the safety of others.

“We’re still good out there, Dick.” She presses, sounding as though she is trying to convince herself. They need the team. That’s what’s missing. The downfall of her confidence. “Really good. But one slip-up-”

“You should quit.” Dick declares this firmly, confidently. He always believes his own authority as fact. “You both should.”

Deep down, he knows that both Dawn and Hank will never quit. Like himself, they do not take well to ‘retirement’. They will die doing this job or they will find quieter ways to keep doing good - but they will never rest. Rest feels too selfish.

“That’s the plan.” Dawn replies. It feels like a lie coming out of her mouth, and she smiles around the discomfort of it. “As soon as we take out these gun suppliers he’s obsessed with. One more chance to do some good and then he promised he’s out.”

Suddenly, there was a flash of something else.

Guns. Piles and piles of guns. Dawn being shot in the head from behind. Bright red blood soaking into white hair. A sneak attack while they have their guard down. Hank, overwhelmed by grief, unable to consider his own life as enemies surround him.

He is forcefully pulled off her limp body.

His screams bounce off the concrete walls as he is chained up and tortured.

Things never go according to plan, do they?

Dick gives her a sharp look as he considers the possibilities. Almost as if, due to his paranoia, he too can see the future.

He wants to offer his help, or tell them simply not to go, but Dawn steals the words off his tongue.

“You could help us out.” She remarks brightly.

Yes, he could. He should.

Another flash of similar events.

This ends just as bloody. Similar howls of pain echo through the warehouse. Hank is limping as Dawn supports him, but all three of them are alive. They all make it back to the apartment alive.

Dick is working on his personal definition of justice. It’s not exactly clean. (But it works.)

But still, he hesitates.

“I’m out of the life, Dawn.”

Liar.

Suddenly, Hank appears. He is surprisingly quiet for someone so large.

“The hell are you doin’ here, Dick?” He barks out the name like poison - in a harsh, jutting way that many others have done before him.

Everyone becomes tense. It’s an unwelcome reunion.

“Hank.” Dawn speaks his name curtly - a reminder. Mind your temper.

“I had a situation.” Dick tries to explain himself, being far too vague.

But again, how does one cleanly summarize encountering a young girl with powers like Rachel’s and being so unsure how to handle it? And of course, Dick hates to admit being unsure of himself. He hates to admit needing help. He prefers to phrase things delicately - as though this were a choice, a fun day trip, rather than the desperate fleeing that it truly is.

“Nice little reunion you got goin’ here.” Hank says sarcastically.

“You know it’s not like that.” Dick replies.

He is right, but poor at defending himself against Hank’s flare of jealousy. He is so walled off that he doesn’t dare to admit he doesn’t have eyes for Dawn anymore, even in the slightest. That relationship was nice, but those feelings died out long ago. He simply can’t see her in a romantic light anymore because his heart belongs to someone he believes could never want him in return.

Follies for another time.

“Sure looks like it to me.” Hank grunts in return.

“Hank.” Dawn says his name sharper this time, capturing his attention as he stares at Dick with fire burning in his eyes.

She nods toward Rachel, who is staring at all of them with confusion.

It’s her. She’s the reason why we’re all here. She’s the reason we’re all going to be alive years from now.

“What the fuck?” Hank is confused. Reasonable.

“Can we just go back inside, please?”

Good idea.

…

You woke up in a cold sweat, fumbling around numbly to turn on the lamp of the hotel room that you were staying in. Having your mind widen across the astral plane could be absolutely exhausting.

Of course Dick had gone back to them.

Looks like you were headed to DC.

…

“Dawn, you can’t hit this job. Look at the number of security contractors here-”

“Come on, don’t change the subject.”

Dawn was cut off from speaking any further by a loud thud coming from the front door. Something almost akin to a knock. Hank (who had gone out to pick up some beer) had a key, so - that definitely wasn’t him. Rachel was in the guest room watching Game of Thrones -

Dick and Dawn exchanged a look, both thinking the same thing.

There was someone at the door. Someone unannounced.

And whoever was at the door might be someone looking for Rachel - someone seeking to harm her. In the kind of silent communication that had only been developed over years of working together as a team, Dick gave Dawn a nod and she calmly raised from her chair to go and check on Rachel. And then he grabbed his service pistol, flicking the safety off and cocking it - he swiftly walked to the front door, and while pointing the gun at whoever was outside.

It was a clear warning, and also ready to fire if the person tried barging in. Dick opened the door slowly, and peered into the hallway, his heart beating rapidly in his chest as he waited to see who it was.

You.

It was you.

He let out a sharp breath of relief when the information fully penetrated his brain - the fact that it was you standing there, and not someone intending to do him or Rachel harm. Not an enemy.

You were standing there as innocently as ever, wearing a red dress with a beautiful paisley pattern on it - still sporting those same brown leather boots and that same cozy jacket. Again, you looked so damn beautiful, and it shouldn’t have been comforting, and Dick shouldn’t have been filled with want. You were holding a paper tray full of coffee cups - which you had pressed against your breast for balance, and in the other hand, you had a large brown bag that seemed to be full of pastries from the smell.

“Fuck.” He swore sharply, his arm still holding the gun up stiffly - his body still filled with the conflicting fight or flight response pumping through him, unanswered.

You let out a bright laugh at this, seemingly amused by Dick’s tense aura.

“Your greetings get more pleasant everytime I see you, Dick.” You said, nodding toward the gun that was still extended in your direction.

He let out another tense breath, and forcefully unlocked his forearm then, in order to put the gun down. He put the safety back on and tucked it into the back of his waistband as he opened the door fully to let you inside.

“You really are such a warm and welcoming person.” You added on, sarcasm ripe in your voice.

“You’re an asshole.” Dick replied, still feeling the ache of a fight or flight response tearing through him as he tried to calm down.

He knew that you hadn’t meant to scare him - or maybe you had, seeing as you hadn’t apologized, and seemed to find the whole thing entirely amusing. But at least you weren’t someone that he actually needed to shoot. So that was a plus.

“I am not.” You replied snarkily, stepping past Dick and making your way into the apartment. “I’m nice. You told me that next time I should bring coffee, and I did. That’s the farthest thing from being an asshole.”

“Dick, what’s going on?” Dawn called out, stepping out from the guest room with Rachel hot on her heels.

Realization spread across her features when she saw you placing your goodies on the counter as Dick closed and locked the front door.

“Y/N,” Dawn smiled, walking over to give you a hug after you had set everything down.

You embraced her tightly for a moment before she pulled away with a smile. Dick rolled his eyes at this - still annoyed at your presence. He would never admit it, but he was upset that Dawn was much happier to see you than she had been when he had arrived.

“Another friend?” Rachel asked, hovering at the edge of the kitchen, slightly hesitant of you.

“A good friend.” Dawn confirmed, shining her smile toward Rachel. “Rachel, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is-”

“Rachel. Hi.” You cut off Dawn as she made the introduction, giving a gentle wave toward Rachel while she nodded shyly at you.

“A friend who’s not supposed to be here.” Dick added on gruffly.

“Grumpy grumps don’t get danishes.” You said, holding up the large brown paper bag.

Dick sighed and rolled his eyes, wanting to protest about you distracting from the larger point with pastries - but technically, he had asked you to bring them.

“We’ve got… a medium vanilla latte for Dawn,” You pulled the cup out of the tray, now doling out the coffee orders. It was something that you knew partially from memory, and partially from the omnipotence that came with your powers.

She took it with a quiet ‘thank you’.

“A small black coffee with extra sugar for Rachel.” You offered her the paper cup, and she loosened up on her hesitance toward you, eagerly leaning in to grab it. She smiled at the fact that you knew her preference and didn’t question her for drinking coffee at such a young age.

“Thanks.” She said brightly.

“A large black coffee for grumpy pants.” You said, holding out a cup towards Dick.

When he reached for it, you teasingly swiped it back before you actually gave it to him, and he heaved out another sigh.

“Are you gonna tell me what you’re doing here?” He asked sharply as he popped open the lid on the cup and took a sip.

You decided to ignore him.

“And an Americano for Hank.” You went on speaking about the coffee, rather than answering Dick’s question. “What kind of sociopath drinks watered down espresso anyway?”

“He-” Dawn spoke up, about to tell you that Hank was at the store, not even there to enjoy it while it was still hot. But then, there was the sound of lock and key in the door and it came bursting open.

“Dawn, I got your stupid fru-fru coconut ice cream. I had to go to three different stores for it, and-”

When Hank saw everyone gathered in the kitchen, including the surprising addition of you, he glared as he kicked the door shut behind him.

“Well, isn’t this a real goddamn-”

“A real goddamn summer camp.” You cut him off, literally stealing the words out of his mouth.

“God, I fucking hate it when you do that.” Hank sighed, a visible stiffness running through him - similar to the way Dick looked when you said ominous things. He was creeped out and defensive at the same time.

“Would a pecan cinnamon roll make you feel better?” You posed, pulling a smaller bag out of the bag of pastries and offering it to him.

“You know, you always were my favorite.” He replied, quickly changing his tune as he came to grab the treat from you, a snarky smile spreading across his lips.

Dick reached for the brown bag sitting on the counter to get one of those danishes you had mentioned. You saw this out of the corner of your eye, and you snatched it away from him. You had meant what you said. He tensed up visibly but didn’t argue.

Dawn giggled, pointedly looking between the two of you before she reached into the bag herself - of course, only for you to slide it closer to her.

Dick sighed harshly and tried to move on from the subject. “Now, are you gonna tell me what you’re doing here?”

…

It wasn’t long before Dick sequestered you away, demanding answers. He dragged you into Dawn and Hank’s bathroom, actually. This left Dawn to awkwardly fill the space with Rachel, who was wondering who you were, and was asking more questions as she sensed the tension between you and Dick. Meanwhile, Hank scarfed down his pecan bun without a single care about the circumstances of your visit now that he was fed.

You sat on the edge of the bathtub with your arms crossed, looking at Dick with firm calculation, just like you always did, waiting for him to speak. He shoved his hands in his pockets - something that made his whole stance tense and broad and horribly appealing. It was something that reminded you that he had stayed perfectly fit since you had last seen him - and he had nothing but fine, firm muscles under that shirt.

You forced yourself to focus as he stiffened his jaw and stared right back at you.

“Well?” He scoffed.

“‘Well’ what, Grayson?” You nagged back, knowing fully well what he meant.

He sharply rolled his eyes. That seemed to be a reaction that you invoked from him quite frequently.

“Why the hell did you follow me?” He sighed, his breath too tired to be as fully demanding as he intended.

You wondered when the last time he had slept was. He was someone who wore insomnia strangely well, especially considering that Bruce had driven him to be sleepless since his teen years. It was something that he was accustomed to by now, so he never got the ‘bags under eyes’, ‘half dead’ thing that most other people did when they didn’t sleep. He simply looked like himself.

You hated how much internal destruction and self abuse suited him.

“Who says I followed you?” You replied, your natural instinct toward snark acting up again. “Maybe I just felt like dropping by. Dawn and Hank are my friends, too.”

You almost added on ‘apparently they like me more than they like you, anyway’ - but you didn’t feel the need to kick him so badly when he was already down.

Dick let out a quiet growl, reaching up to firmly pinch the bridge of his nose with his finger and a thumb.

Already, you were wearing his patience thin.

You knew that you couldn’t tell him the truth.

One thing you knew for certain - Dick Grayson was a control freak. It was something that had been carved into him by trauma and fully solidified by years of training with Bruce.

That night, so long ago - having his parents slip out from his grasp when he had been so young, while performing a routine that they were known for courageously doing without a safety net. A routine that they were so certain of and knew so well, having never factored in the act of murderous sabotage that ultimately killed them - it made Dick want to obsessively control every single aspect of his life and everyone else’s around him.

Not only did he want to help those around him avoid danger, but he wanted the people around him to behave exactly how he imagined that they should at all times.

He was constantly on the lookout for frayed ropes - for the unexpected variables that might be the downfall of someone that he loved. He felt that his parents’ death had been his fault, that he hadn’t been diligent enough that night, so he needed to be hypervigilant in every other aspect of his life to keep more people from dying.

It was part of the reason that you bothered him so much. You were always unexpected - always a wild variable that he had to chase down. Whether it was your actions, your words, or your reactions to the things that he did and said - he felt like he could never predictably nail you down, and he absolutely fucking hated it. (It was probably also one of the reasons that he got such a fantastic release from fucking you - but that was a box of emotional issues he was not yet willing to open.)

But - being the control freak that he was - he liked to try and control the outcome of your visions.

Yes, you did see the future in your visions. And yes, the version of that future that you saw could sometimes be changed. It was part of the reason that you tried to interfere to stop bad things. You had seen many things before that had never come true - both good things and terrible things.

But you had warned Dick time and time again that the future is not random. You never saw simple flashes of random possible outcomes and one of those realities might come true. No - you saw people’s intentions. You saw the results of the choices that people make.

If someone intended to commit a murder - you would see death. If they changed their mind - you would see life. If someone interfered to stop that murder - the future could change in a lot of strange ways because of it.

Life is a winding path with a lot of branches to it, and when someone makes a choice, some of those branches die off.

Dick Grayson’s controlling, all mighty, ‘need to interfere’ mindset certainly had a way of changing the future. He constantly felt the need to use the information from your visions to force people into making the ‘right’ choice. But sometimes, on the path we choose to avoid our fate, we run headfirst into it.

You were never going to tell him - but Dick and his controlling nature had gotten people killed before.

You had discovered over time that it was better to simply not tell him things - to hold back information until it was the right time for him to hear it.

“Do you actually enjoy being irritating?” Dick rasped harshly at you. “Or is it just something that you’re good at?”

You shrugged. “Probably both.”

He let out another stiff breath.

“Look, I’m here for Rachel.” You said, trying to correct course. “She’s mourning, she’s confused, her powers are out of control. She needs someone to help guide her. Someone who might be able to show her how to keep her powers under control.”

“O-kay.” Dick said, clearly dubious, not fully convinced. He looked at you with his brows firmly knit, and you felt the need to further convince him.

“Look, I’m not stalking you if you think that’s what it is.” You added on. “I had a vision, I saw you and Dawn on the roof-”

“Okay, okay, I get it now.” Dick smirked sarcastically, crossing his arms firmly over his chest, making his biceps bulge inside of his button down shirt in a way that was far too appealing.

Focus - you reminded yourself. Focus.

“What?” You replied, genuinely confused.

“You don’t like me spending time with Dawn.” He declared, continuing to smirk at you as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

More than anything, this left you utterly fucking confused.

“What?” You chuckled, repeating the word like a gaping parrot - a nervous, awkward edge in your voice.

You liked Dawn. She was one of your best friends.

And you didn’t give a rat’s ass if Dick and Dawn spent time together. Especially because you knew that Dick coming here was him fleeing to a friend while in crisis, not him looking for a hookup. Especially not while Dawn and Hank were together. Dawn was nothing if not intensely loyal.

And nothing would have happened while Hank was in the apartment. You had never seen Dick and Hank fight - but Hank was just a bit bigger, and because of his upbringing, he had absolutely no qualms about fighting dirty, even when he was fighting a friend. So you knew who you would bet on in that fight.

So - what the hell was Dick talking about?

Even with your strange sense of omnipotence, you couldn’t tell at the time - Dick was baiting you. Hard. He wanted you to flip out, to get jealous.

It was the emotionally stunted thing to do, but he wanted to see some sense that you cared.

At least Hank going full cave-man mode upon seeing Dick meant that he thought what he had with Dawn was precious and worth protecting. It meant that he saw Dick as a threat.

When you continued to stare at Dick with nothing but confusion, gaping like a fish, he flailed, realizing what a terrible move this was. And for some stupid reason, instead of dropping the subject altogether, he dug himself deeper into the hole.

“You know, the thing with me and Dawn is all in the past.” He said, mentally squirming, waiting to see how you would react. “There’s really nothing going on between us.”

“Yeah.” You smoothed your lips into a firm line, completely uncaring about this line of conversation. “Good for you.”

Perhaps mistaking the annoyance in these words as the jealousy that he was so urgently seeking, his tone completely changed then. Like a child throwing a tantrum, he had gotten the negative energy that he wanted from the interaction - so he kept on digging in.

“Okay, you know what?” He snapped. “If you’re not gonna tell me why you’re really here, then I’m just gonna have to assume that you’re bullshitting.”

“Oh, I’m bullshitting?” You replied, resisting the urge to break into a grin.

He had seen solid proof of your powers on many occasions. He had seen you do things that couldn’t be proven by science. So why was he only accusing you of ‘bullshitting’ right now?

“Yes.” He replied stoically. “You didn’t see anything - you don’t actually know anything. You don’t know shit. You’re probably just guessing, and making shit up as you go along and hoping people will believe you.”

“Okay.” You shrugged.

You were unphased by this declaration. You knew by now to trust your visions - even if Dick was revoking that trust. You knew that you had solid information, and if you didn’t follow it, the lives of the people that you loved were at risk.

You guessed that this was just Dick throwing a tantrum because you wouldn’t share that information with him.

Dick ground his teeth. Unconsciously, he was still intensely frustrated that he hadn’t gotten more of a reaction out of you. Whether it was the information that he was looking for - or some greater sense of anger or urgency that he felt when you were around. But he needed something. He needed to know that you still felt something because of him.

You were always so damn calm. Far too calm for his liking.

“You’re just guessing.” He pressed on. “It’s not that hard to know I would come here. You just fucking followed me because-”

“So you’re saying that all the military tactics Bruce taught you never paid off, and you’re intensely predictable when fleeing under pressure?” You chuckled, pointing out the flaws in his own logic.

Dick flinched.

He hated how uncomfortable your words made him. Squirming in that discomfort - he went low.

“And you’re admitting that you’re just a bullshit carnival psychic like your mother was?”

It was a tender wound.

The moment that your face fell - shifting from mild amusement at your own joke to intense pain and hurt - Dick’s insides recoiled with regret.

“Y/N-” He sighed.

“Nope.” You cut him off sharply, shoving past him.

He let you, finally allowing you to escape the tense air of the bathroom so you could go out and properly catch up with Dawn while drinking your coffee.

…

No matter how angry you were with him, you couldn’t let him die.

Even as you laughed and chatted with Dawn, and got to know Rachel a bit, you couldn’t get the flashes of horrifying possible futures out of your mind.

…

Where is Dick Grayson? Where is Dick Grayson? Where is he?

A crazed family singing showtunes. A skipping rope being used as a whip - knives plunging through flesh. Torture. Pain. Screams.

You saw Dick fleeing with Rachel in the night, believing that he had made the right decision to protect her. Believing that he was keeping you, and Dawn and Hank safe. You heard a sharp screech of tires as he was cut off on a dark backroad by an old-fashioned station wagon with wooden paneling. A car crash. Dick flew through the front windshield - and as he bled to death, his last moments were spent hearing Rachel’s cries for help as she was dragged from the car.

Bad decision.

Dick spoke about ‘some job’ that Hank and Dawn were planning and instantly, there were flashes through your mind of Dawn shot in the head, laying on the floor in a pool of her own blood - Hank’s screams of anguish as he was chained and tortured.

They need his help.

Why were you there?

To stop those bad decisions. Hopefully.

You couldn’t explain it all to Dick - you couldn’t play it all out for him so simply. He was a control freak. If you told him all the details, then he would insist on making a choice. He would insist on running the play. And he might make one of those stupid choices. You had to avoid making the same mistake that your mother had. Don’t give those stubborn, powerful men too much information and trust them to use it wisely - because they most likely won’t.

“You should go with them.” You told Dick, your voice curt - the first time that you had acknowledged him in hours.

He seemed shocked by you even looking in his direction, let alone speaking to him after the comment he had made.

“Look, Y/N-”

“I’ll stay with Rachel.” You added on.

When Rachel eagerly agreed to this, it seemed to seal the deal for him.

He acted as though it was his plan all along.

Whatever made him feel better about it.

…

You and Rachel ended up on the rooftop. She gravitated toward the doves - she found them calming, as she told you.

“How do you know Dick?” She asked you, clearly unable to keep down that curiosity that was naturally biting at her.

With the cool night air whipping at your cheeks, you found it easy to be vulnerable with her.

“We grew up together.” You told her.

“You were a part of the Circus?” She asked, giving a small amused grin at the thought.

“Yes.” You confirmed, mirroring her smile. Sometimes the nostalgia was painful, but unlike Dick, you didn’t try to forget it. “My mother was a fortune teller - a psychic. She was considered one of the best. People would come from miles around, or even follow the Circus from place to place just to have their palm read by her.”

Rachel laughed at this, clearly amused.

“So what - she had a big crystal ball, and she would read the lines on your hand to tell you how long you’re gonna live?”

You shrugged.

“Something like that.” You confirmed.

There was a beat of silence. Knowing what Rachel was going through, you felt the need to confess something to her.

“My mother - she died when I was about your age.” You told her, knowing that it was likely something she needed to hear.

It can always be comforting to know that you’re not alone.

Rachel looked at you with large, piercing eyes - heavy grief still dancing there. It was still so fresh. Your heart ached for her.

“What happened?” She asked.

With her powers, you were surprised that she didn’t already know.

But you thought it apt to explain it to her.

“My mother didn’t just do card tricks and read palms.” You said. “She was special. Special like us, special.”

A distinct look of dawning came across Rachel’s features.

“She had powers.” She said softly.

You nodded.

“So, wait - are these kinds of powers… genetic?” She asked eagerly, seeming to perk with interest at this.

Suddenly, a million long-dead questions about a father she had never known overtook her like a tidal wave.

Obviously, her mother had been perfectly normal. Had she gotten her powers from her father? If she found him, would he be able to tell her who she truly was?

“I suppose so.” You answered meekly, hating that you didn’t know for certain. “I hate that I can’t say for sure.”

Rachel’s face fell at this.

Then, something occurred to her.

“How did your mom’s powers kill her?” She asked.

“It - it wasn’t really her powers that killed her.” You began to explain. “It was more… the way she used them.”

Rachel looked at you expectantly, and you continued.

“Before she died… she saw what happened to Dick’s parents in a vision. How they died.” You explained. “She tried to stop it, and the people who were intent on killing them weren’t too happy about it. So they killed her too.”

It was a fate that you were constantly trying to avoid - stumbling into death while trying to save those that you loved. It was one of the reasons that you put up with so much attitude from Dick Grayson. You would much rather have him alive and giving you lip than have him dead because of some mistake that you made.

Rachel looked pensive for a moment - watching the birds as they rested in their large cage.

“Is that why you’re helping us now?” She asked quietly. “You’re trying to keep us from getting killed?”

“I’m doing my best.” You remarked, anxious hope ripe in your voice.

…

Clustering voices. A tense argument.

It was broken up by -

“Hello there.”

The faux sweetness of a dangerous stranger.

Fear shook you. The sound gave you a sense of deja vu. You recognized them from a far off vision.

Before you could warn the others, it broke into a brutal fight.

You used all the training you had, but you were distracted by Dick being thrown off the roof. Something hit you in the head, hard - you heard Dawn cry out for help, and you saw a cluster of blonde hair and limbs as she went flying.

Rachel screamed and reached out for you and you desperately reached back - you were dizzy and blinking heavily and didn’t even remember being knocked down.

“Dawn! Dawn!”

You heard Dick shouting urgently and then you realized in horror that she might be dead.

Dawn.

You were sluggish and felt wetness on the side of your face that must have been blood, but you forcibly peeled yourself off the ground, stumbling toward the sound of Dick’s voice - toward the fire escape. You tripped down a few of the stairs, your blurred eyes only focused on the shape of them - him crouching over her body, blonde hair splayed across the pavement, limp legs.

She’s not dead.

She can’t be.

When you made it to her, you fell to your knees beside her. With the last of her energy, she locked eyes with you.

Fear. Anxiety. Terror. Trust.

She knew that you would help her.

Her eyes drifted closed, and Dick panicked.

“Dawn, Dawn!”

“Be quiet.” You barked at him.

You needed to concentrate.

“You’re telling me to shut up?” He griped back, his fear and panic foaming up through his lips as intense anger directed towards you. “Shouldn’t you have seen this coming? What happened to-?”

“I don’t appreciate the attitude.” You ground out, looking up at him to find nothing but pure fear staring back at you. “Now - Shut. Up.”

You placed your hand gently onto Dawn’s forehead - you concentrated hard, focusing your powers on her. You couldn’t do anything about her physical injuries, but you could preserve the parts of her that mattered the most. You could keep her spirit alive. You could lock her memories away in a safe place so that she would be whole when her body healed.

“What kind of voodoo bullshit is she doing?” Hank huffed out, having just made it down the fire escape himself.

“Be quiet and let her work.” Dick told him, waving a dismissive hand in Hank’s direction.

For once in their lives, both of the men sat in silence, actually deferring to you and following your lead.

They trusted you to do something good for her, rather than doing more harm.

...

A/N: If you want to be tagged in future parts of this, you can sign up for my DC Titans taglist - just let me know that you want to be a part of that taglist by commenting below, and keep in mind that I have taglist rules. Also, I only have a general taglist for DC Titans fics, not a specific taglist for this series because this series updates sporadically and not on a schedule.

Please do not ask me when this fic will be updated - this fic does not have a schedule.

While this is technically part of a 'series', each chapter is meant to be enjoyed on its own. The overarching plot of the series is still that of the original Titans show, and I won't be making any major changes to the canon of the show - I just intend to showcase smaller emotional moments between the reader character and the canon characters. This is something I want to work on casually in the background between working on other things. This fic is not my main focus, and I will not be rushing to update it or complete it.

To me, this fic is a nice slow casual walk through the woods to enjoy the scenery, rather than a marathon with a clearly outlined route and a specific finish line as other series have been for me in the past.

Comments and reblogs are encouraged, and I am thankful for them - but please keep those comments focused on the actual content of the series - it's plot, the characters, their dynamics, even predictions for the plot of future chapters are okay, as long as you are not asking when the fic will be updated. Please do not spam me asking me to update this or asking me when I will update this - because I am not in a rush to do so. I have a lot of ideas for this series that I am excited about, but I want to work on it slowly and casually because I don't want to lose my enthusiasm for it and I know that rushing will take that enthusiasm away.

If you enjoyed this - great, thank you, I am so glad that you do. But if you expect this to be updated weekly like a factory pumping out stuff on a clearly outlined schedule - then you are in the wrong place. If you are expecting constant updates of this fic and you will be disappointed if it doesn't get updated regularly - you should just block me now and pretend you didn't read it.

But if you are a patient person - feel free to read and enjoy my other Titans works while I am working on updates for this (and working on other exciting things). I particularly recommend reading Your First Kiss With Dick Grayson to scratch that emotionally constipated Dick Grayson itch if this fic left you feening. Also, feel free to send me a message telling me what you thought of this fic or other fics in general.

Also - if you can't get Dick Grayson off your mind - my requests are open. And I would really love some requests for shorter fics with Dick, like headcanons or reactions. Otherwise, comments are appreciated and I really hope that you have a great day!

#dick grayson x reader #ficrecs #tagged #<- because im in her new taglist (via my main blog)#sunny tag

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bitsandbobsofwriting · 3 years ago

Text

A new servant desperately struggles to understand what exactly Merlin is:

A cryptid? Arthur's boyfriend? Simply a dude? The court jester? Something else entirely? Who knows, certainly not the new guy.

The first time the new kitchen-hand, Tristan, saw The King’s dark-haired servant sprinting down the corridor, he couldn’t tell if the man was laughing or crying.

He was fast, faster than Tristan thought possible for someone whose arms were so full of laundry, but he politely steps out of the way, coming to the conclusion that he must’ve been late for something. At least... he did think that, until he turns the next corner to see three of The king’s most trusted knights peering out of windows and into random doors. Tristan freezes in the corridor, he’d heard that servants were treated extremely well here, but he’d only been employed for a few days and he didn’t want to risk anything by pushing past or addressing his betters.

One of the knights, Sir Leon, his brain helpfully supplies, spots him stood there, and his annoyed frown quickly morphs into a friendly smile:

“Pardon me, sorry, I don’t suppose you’ve seen Merlin around anywhere, have you?”

Tristan’s eyes go wide and the grip he has on his tray tightens, but he forces himself to take a breath and answer, trying his best to keep his voice even:

“Merlin is... The King’s manservant? Tall, with dark hair?”

Another knight pushes forward, he looks to be the oldest, with dark hair falling in an almost deliberately tousled way around his bearded jawline. His charming grin seems just a little too wide to be genuine, but Tristan isn’t quite sure if that’s because he’s about to take pleasure in punishing someone, or if he’s just being polite to a stranger:

“Yeah, yeah that’s him, seen him? Arsehole turned our shirts pink in the wash, and something tells me it was deliberate.”

Tristan gulps at the accusation and he takes a shaky step back, but before he can even think of defending the stranger that he now thinks must’ve been crying, the last of the three knights, a giant, if Tristan believed in such things, steps forward:

“Don’t worry, we won’t beat him too much.”

He says it with a grin and a quirk of his eyebrows, but once again the kitchen-hand can’t tell if it was cruel or genuine, if he was being sarcastic or not.

“Uh... yeah, he turned left at the end of this corridor, but I didn’t see where he went after that, I apologise.”

Sir Leon waves away his apology with a smile, looking to the long-haired knight with a raised eyebrow:

“The stables?”

The man grins widely, nodding his agreement as he turns his grin to the giant. Sir Leon offers Tristan another soft smile, murmuring his thanks before moving past him, elbowing the other two to prompt them in to thanking him as well. The three of them march down the corridor with almost vindictive smiles on their faces, and Tristan prepares himself to see a vacancy note, or possibly a funeral invite, posted on the notice board by the next morning.

When he passes a window that evening to see the King’s manservant being carried on the giant’s shoulders as five other knights pelt them with gloves, a grin on every face, he decides that... well... it’s probably best to just not to ask.

The next time he sees Merlin, a few days later, The King is also there.

This is the first time Tristan has been in Arthur Pendragon’s presence, and though the other servant’s all rave on about how awkwardly kind he is, he’s a bundle of nerves. Not even Cook’s stories about how often she whacks The King’s knuckles with a wooden spoon when she catches him about to pilfer something stops Tristan’s heart from racing.

The King was overseeing a few of the servants decorate the main hall for a feast, and whilst Tristan is certain that that’s not something The King normally does, he doesn’t question it, just thinks that maybe the other servants had been telling the truth, and he was a genuinely nice, but normal man.

Merlin stands at his side, and though Tristan can’t hear their conversation, the two of them are clearly bickering over something. The servant can’t help his curiosity, wanting desperately to move closer to find out what sort of things The King allows his servant to bicker with him about; luckily, the table right next to them has yet to be laid, so he moves towards it quickly. He doesn’t even glance at them, terrified of being caught out, but perhaps Merlin surviving the knights non-wrath the other day is encouraging him, and his steps don’t falter. Their words come in to focus, and he has to stop the confused, and slightly horrified, frown from spreading across his face:

“Arthur, I swear to the Gods, if you make me wear that hat again, I’ll piss in your wine and serve it to you in front of a crowd.”

The King scoffs just as Tristan shakily begins laying down the cutlery:

“That’s treason, Merlin.”

“Do I look like I care? Not only will I piss in your wine, I will not hesitate to push you over a balcony at the first opportunity. This hall is high up and it’s a long way down to the gardens. He drank toxic wine and turned loopy and tipped himself off a balcony and went splat! That’s what people will say. I’m not wearing the Godamn hat.”

Tristan has to focus extra carefully to stop himself from gasping; Merlin just threatened to kill The King... that’s got to be a death sentence. Pissing off some knights that he’s obviously friendly with is one thing, but threatening to kill The-

“Ha ha. Very funny. If you can’t tell, Merlin, I’m being sarcastic, I know you struggle with complex concepts like that.”

Merlin just rolls his eyes, crossing his arms as he says with no hesitation:

“My mind is more than capable of coping, My Lord, it’s your belt I worry about being able to cope nowadays.”

Tristan bites his tongue to stop himself from yelping and turns away so neither of them can see his horrified face. The King just makes an outraged noise in the back of his throat, and Tristan can hear Merlin snort in laughter at whatever expression Arthur was wearing to match such a noise:

“Go to the stocks. I want you there for three hours.”

Tristan lets out a confused breath; Merlin threatens to kill The King, and gets playful sarcasm, but he implies The King might be a tad overweight, and gets sent to the stocks for three hours? How is that-

“Yeah... no. Not happening. The feast starts in less than two hours and I still have to help Guinevere organise some stuff in the courtyard, do Gaius’ rounds for him, then put an extra hole in your belt and help you get dressed because, despite being a grown man, you’re still an idiot who’s incapable of putting clothes on in any sort of decent manner.”

Tristan finds himself relaxing a little. This seems to be the norm for them, but surely... surely The King had a line somewhere, and a servant just flat out refusing to be disciplined must be where it lies?

Arthur just scoffs, and Tristan angles his head in such a way that he can see him roll his eyes:

“Fuck off.”

Merlin grins, seeming to cast a suspicious gaze over the room to make sure no one was watching and somehow completely missing Tristan stood just there, before saying quietly:

“You love me really, you prat.”

With that, Merlin reaches up to yank at a lock of The King’s hair before hurrying off in the direction of the courtyard before Arthur can react. The King jumps slightly, clearly caught by surprise as an annoyed flush rises on his face, but Tristan just frowns in confusion when his shock gives way to a softly amused smile.

Huh.

The next few times Tristan saw Merlin made him fear for the servant’s safety. He was being taken on hunts by The King and his knights, that’s meant to be for squires, to learn the ropes and gain experience in tracking and riding.

He supposes it isn’t entirely unheard of for a servant to follow their master on a hunt, but with the way Merlin complains without pause, and The King in turn complains about his complaining, he thinks it would better for everyone if Merlin just... didn’t go. When he brings it up to another servant, a lovely woman named Guinevere who had helped him get unlost at least three times in his first week, she just laughs and smiles at him pityingly:

“I wouldn’t worry, those two have been like that forever, they’re practically inseparable.”

Tristan responds with a rather intelligent sounding:

“...What?”

Gwen laughs softly again, shaking her head and patting his shoulder consolingly:

“You’ll get used to it, they’re just... like that.”

She gives him one more smile before turning to wave the boys out of the gates and walking back to the castle as if this were the most normal thing in the world. Tristan supposes that it probably is.

The next time Tristan sees Merlin leave the city gates with the knights, Sir Elyan, Sir Mordred, and Sir Lancelot this time, it’s distinctly worse. Because he’d caught sight of the patrol rota last time he ran food down to the training ground, and he was certain that those three had a city patrol right about now.

Before he even has time to gape in shock, he hears Merlin’s pleading voice as he trails Sir Elyan like a lost puppy:

“Please, El, I promise to stay out of the way, I will do anything, but I swear to the Gods if I have to spend one more minute around that prat, I’ll hurl myself from the battlements.”

Swearing to the Gods and threating to hurl various people, including himself, from significant heights seems to be some sort of theme for The King’s manservant. Before Tristan can consider the implications of that, Sir Elyan turns to Merlin with a wide, teasing grin on his face:

“You know, I would’ve let you tag along for free, Merlin, but now that you’ve promised me something I feel the need to take advantage.”

Tristan tenses at that, a shot of ice spiking down his spine. He has keen eyes and sharp ears, he knows that Sir Elyan is the lovely Gwen’s brother, Sir Mordred seems to have an... odd worship for the servant, and he’s definitely picked up on the close bond between Merlin and Sir Lancelot, but is this where Camelot’s image comes crashing down in Tristan’s head? He knew that it was better here for servant’s than other Kingdoms, but there are always people who’ll take advantage of their position, no matter where you are. Merlin’s shoulders just drop and he asks in a sulking voice:

“What do you want?”

Tristan grits his teeth, moving his gaze so no one would catch him glaring at the knight as he tries to figure out a way to help, a way to get this virtual stranger out of being... abused, in such a manner. If he’d carried on glaring, he would’ve noticed Elyan’s soft smile and amused raised eyebrow:

“Next time you gather herbs for Gaius, bring back some more of those flowers that you got for Gwen. She said they added vibrancy to the house, whatever that means, but they make her happy, so...-”

Merlin just giggles and nods and Tristan relaxes, looking back to them with a confused smile on his face. That was... actually kind of sweet, he can definitely see the resemblance between the knight and his sister:

“-AND I want whatever Arthur’s having for dinner tonight, his food always looks way nicer than ours.”

Merlin lets out a faux annoyed groan, but then rolls his eyes and grins, nodding:

“Consider it done. Can we go now? I really don’t want to risk him seeing me and giving me some stupid chore to do.”

Elyan laughs and nods, and the four of them begin making their way out of the courtyard and into the city. Sir Lancelot finally joins the conversation, clearly amused as he says:

“You know it’s literally your job to do chores, right?”

Merlin turns to glare at him as Sir Mordred and Sir Elyan laugh, and Tristan only just hears his reply as the castle gates shut behind them:

“Fuck off.”

Tristan decides it would be pointless to bring this up to anyone again, he figures he’ll probably just get the same answer as last time.

The next confusing incident happens only a few days later. But Tristan supposes that at this point... it really shouldn’t be confusing. Gwen was right, he did just... get used to it.

He heard the steps pounding down the corridor before he saw him, but they were coming fast and hard, so he presses himself against the wall, holding the tray to his side to protect it as best he could as Merlin comes skidding round the corner.

He stops just long enough for Tristan to calm himself by spying the wide grin on his face, but he’s quickly sprinting down the hall again, laughing as he waves whatever it is he’s got clutched in his hands. The second set of loud, rapid footsteps stops Tristan from stepping away from the wall quite yet. Just a moment later, Sir Gwaine follows Merlin’s skidded path around the corner, though the heavier man overshoots slightly and he runs into the wall opposite Tristan with a crash and a deep groan.

The rebellious knight gives a wide-eyed Tristan an awkward nod before pushing himself off the wall and following Merlin’s blazing trail, screaming down the corridor:

“I warned you Merlin!! Don’t come between a man and his ale, now give that back you bastard!”

Tristan hears Merlin’s laughter grow louder, even from the two corridors away that the other servant had managed to race to.

He shrugs to himself, waiting for a moment to see if anyone else was going to come barrelling around the corner before sighing, and continuing his journey up to the visiting Lord’s chambers.

It was unusual, he thought, how quickly he’d come to terms with the fact that a servant was sassing The King and pranking the knights and inviting himself on various hunts and patrols that he really had no business on. Unusual indeed.

He’d learnt to ignore it. Or at least brush it off.

In the two weeks since Merlin had (presumably) stolen Sir Gwaine’s skin of ale, he’d seen the servant call The King a long list of imaginative insults (what the hell is a dollop head?), walk around with Sir Leon’s cloak on because he was a little chilly, accuse someone of treason (and somehow been right about it), and threaten to kill at least seven people; including, but not limited to: The King himself, The King’s already dead father, some stuck up Noble (though that was under his breath, Tristan just happened to be stood next to him), and Sir Percival.

And Gwen was... absolutely right. He's just... like that. He's Merlin, and that’s what Merlin does.

So when he turns a corner in a rarely used to corridor to see him pressing The King against a wall, snogging the life out of him, Tristan simply turns around and walks back the other way. Both of them look fairly happy with the arrangement, and they’d probably chosen this corridor for the exact same reason Tristan had: it was out of everyone’s way, and was unlikely to be inhabited.

He thinks it’s odd, how... un-odd he finds it. He absent-mindedly thinks that, with the way they acted around each other, he really should’ve seen this coming. A sudden thought occurs to him, and he ducks into a storage cupboard, laying his tray down carefully as he rummages through the boxes. He lets out a quiet “Yay” when he finds what he’s looking for, carefully picking up his tray with only one hand and nudging the door open again with his hip.

He walks back towards the corner he had just turned (and turned again) making a conscious effort to keep his steps quiet; he places the danger sign, usually used where walls had collapsed or windows had been smashed, in the middle of the corridor, a clear indication of “Do Not Enter”.

He nods smugly at his quick thinking and easy handy work before mentally planning the quickest route to the kitchens and following it hurriedly.

He casually wonders if he has time to circle around to the other end of the corridor so he could put another sign down before Cook gets angry at him for being late. Probably not. At least, not before they... finish up and move on. Hmm. He suddenly panics about the thought of them seeing the sign and knowing that someone had spotted them but... well. Hopefully they would just appreciate it and move on.

Yet again, he decides not to bring this up to anyone. He may or may not have overheard a few of the knights making some sort of bet, and he may or may not want to watch on with amusement as they fail to realise that all of them have already lost.

Tristan smiles to himself; working here had turned out to be rather entertaining, in the end.

THE END

I know it’s short, but I really didn’t know what else to add without it sounding like I was just repeating myself over and over😅

I hope y’all enjoyed it!!

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starlightxsvt · 3 years ago

Text

3 dates | c.sc

pairing ➳ badboy!Seungcheol x female!reader

genre ➳ badboy au, romance, some fluff, angst, bad attempt at humour, gets spicy at the end.

word count ➳ 12.4k+ (i have NO idea how this became so long so strap in for a ride)

warnings ➳ cursing, mentions of killing, mentions criminal activities, slight violence(non explicit), smoking, ma man Seungcheol ain't your typical badboy, self doubt, blackmailing, reader does all sorts of risky things cuz she's a SIMP, blood(nothing explicit), kissing, marking, some breast worshipping, grinding, reader is horny lol. (Please lemme know if I forgot anything.)

synopsis ➳ after one fateful encounter with him you cannot get him out of your head. so you opt to do some crazy things to catch his attention and even snag a few dates with him. only trouble is he isn't the type to stay after the whole disposition is over.

Swirling the third drink in your hand you heave yet another depressed sigh. You are so tired that you feel like you can just slump on the counter and pass out. Maybe it wasn't a good idea to stop for a drink, you alcohol riddled brain thinks.

The plans you had with Katelyn was cancelled last moment; she called to tell you that her thesis submission date was moved forward and so she couldn't hang out with you tonight. You're in the middle of an existential crisis quite literally, the too many part time jobs yet still lack of money and copious amounts of study getting to you. Staring hard at your drink you contemplate if it is worth giving up on college and your dream of becoming an arts major. It sure feels tempting right now, the long hours at the diner and not enough sleep at night proving to be the worst nuisance.

Sighing you put down your drink. It's still early, you should go home and try to catch up on the much needed sleep. You really had no intention of grabbing a drink tonight; you have morning classes tomorrow but you made a last moment decision to stop for a drink on your way back home. You didn't take your usual route to home today, and while trudging through the streets tiredly you came across this bar called Seventeen's. You've heard stories about this place, how it is the home to local gangs and how it's bad people's turf and what not. Your curiosity, probably too much of that made you get inside for a drink even though all the bones in your body ached. The inside is what you expected, nowhere near fancy but dingy, just decent enough. The people inside didn't look friendly and if the chains and tattoos on them gave any indication you'd say the rumours are true; this is the turf of gangs. The drinks taste decent, not the best but not the worst and from the overall look of this place you don't really have a reason to come back.

You're about to stand up from your stool when a large, clammy hand grabs your wrist out of nowhere, making you jump. "Hey sexy, sit down. Let me buy you a drink," the owner of the hand, a large, tattooed middle aged man slurs making your nose scrunch out of disgust. You're wearing nothing that can be called sexy; a plain cardigan and jeans and the way he looks you up and down makes you want to poke his eyes out.

You really shouldn't have come here. Clenching your jaw, you meet his eyes, "What makes you think I'm interested to have a drink with you?"

"Oh come on, why would you be here then, lookin' all nice? Just sit down," the man drawls, an ugly smile on his face. He still hasn't let go of your wrist and it's making you impatient. Looks like you're gonna have to kick his balls tonight. Maybe the self defense classes didn't completely go to waste.

"Get your disgusting hands off me while I'm being nice, sleazeball," you hiss at him, trying to get his hand off. The man stands up growling, "What did you say you bitch?" You're preparing to break his nose when out of nowhere a punch lands on his face that sends him tumbling to the ground. The attacker gets on top of him and twists his arm and you can literally hear a bone snap.

Shit.

"I think she said she is not interested," the man hisses, landing yet another another hit on his face before kicking his groin and getting up. When he turns around and his eyes meet yours, your heart skips a few beats and you almost The man is drop dead gorgeous, someone you would not expect to see here but probably on the cover of a high end magazine. His blond hair is long, crossing the nape of his neck as well as some covering his forehead. What takes your breath away the most is his eyes, the most beautiful pair you've ever seen. They seem to have their own galaxies in them, so deep and mesmerising and decorated with lashes long enough to make you jealous. His dress up, black jacket and jeans, immediately tells you what he is; a gang member.

"You should get home, lady," He speaks in a no nonsense tone, his face cold as ice. But you're offended. "Excuse me? Who are you calling lady? You make it sound like I'm old." You puff your cheeks and cross your arms, trying to appear intimidating. "Besides I had the situation under control, you didn't need to butt in." The man keeps looking at you with that no nonsense look, his features displaying annoyance if you are right and he's clearly not intimidated. The dude on the floor grunts and makes an effort to get up, only to be kicked by your saviour once more. "Hey Mingyu, get him out of here. What was this piece of trash doing here anyway?" The man orders to someone before turning to look at you, "Do you live far?"

"Uh- no, a ten minutes walk from here maybe," you reply unsurely, surprised at his question. The blond haired man nods before grabbing your wrist, "I'll walk you home. Hurry up, lady." You have a feeling he's purposely calling you that and though you start following him out of the bar, you make grunts of protest.

"Oh yeah, why? Trying to find out my address? So you can come later and hurt me like that guy?" You would not be this brazen if it wasn't for the alcohol in your system, after all the man next you isn't a friendly one if the rumours are true. The man raises a brow at you, "Did you do something that requires me to beat you up?" You hiccup at his serious tone. Does he not get a joke? He lets go of your hand now that you're at a safe distance from the bar but still stays close enough to you as your steps are rather stumbling and messy. You aren't fully drunk but your body is tired and feels like will shut down any second.

You really need some sleep.

"You know I'm not that drunk. You don't have to walk me home." You complain. "I'm walking you home because this isn't a nice place you should be alone at night. What happened earlier could happen again." He says not looking at you. "Mhmm," you keep on trudging behind him, "Thank you so much for your kind gesture, sir." You mock him but he doesn't reply, staring straight ahead, completely ignoring you as he walks quietly. In silence you two walk the rest of the path, before finally stopping as your apartment comes into view. At this point it feels like your bones will break and you will plop down on the concrete any second, but you manage to keep standing. "Well, thanks for walking me home." You shift your weight from one foot to another. "And for helping me back there." He shrugs coolly, a bored expression on his face. He's turning to walk away when you call, "Hey- I didn't get your name."

"What do you need it for?" He side glances at you. You shrug, "I don't know. You helped me so I thought it'd be nice to know your name." "You don't need to. Go inside, lady." He says, his tone final and starts marching away. You wait a couple moments before yelling, "Asshole!" and quickly rushing inside your building, partly afraid he's gonna come back.

You won't be surprised if you get killed tonight.

"So you are telling me Choi Seungcheol walked you home?" Katelyn screams in your ear, jolting up from her seat, earning glares from other people at the library in the process. "That's his name?" You whisper-yell, grabbing her hand to pull her back down. "I'm guessing from the blond hair you said," Katelyn shrugs. "Uh huh." You mean back in your chair, "He was hot though."

"Is that seriously all you have to say?" Katelyn whines exasperatedly. "No, I mean, if it wasn't for the way he dresses or talks I would have thought he's a model or something." You murmur.

"Are you sure he didn't hurt you?" Katelyn questions. "Hell no!" You frown. "He saved me from that creepy old dude. I was surprised too. I wish I didn't drink so much, I could have gotten a better look at his face," you sigh. "Seriously?" Katelyn raises a brow at you.

"Girl, you should have seen him. His aura and the way he carried himself was...so hot." You grin to yourself. Katelyn watches you like you've grown two heads. "Are you trying to tell me you have a crush on that gangster?" You smile sheepishly, "Maybe, I mean it's harmless. He was broody yet charming and I'm a girl so.... Also, it's not like he likes me too and is gonna come running whenever I ask him to bang me." You mutter.

"Oh he's gonna break your bones and bang your skull against a wall. That's what he's gonna do."

"Come on! Maybe he isn't so bad. Maybe the rumours are just rumours. Maybe he just looks intimidating and dresses up like that and people thinks he's a gangster." "Really? His name is on every bad thing that happens around here. From illegal racing to murders. Do you know that people say he has killed too?" "Like I said, rumours," you shrug being your stubborn self. Katelyn holds her hands up in surrender, "You know what? It doesn't matter. I'm glad you're alive so let's just put this behind us, shall we?" You don't reply but wiggle your brows at her, a conspirational look on your face. "Oh no, don't look at me like that," Katelyn warns. "Let's go to that bar tonight. Please?" You give her your best puppy eyes. "What are you? Fucking crazy? You wanna get killed?" She whisper-yells, scowling at you. "No. I just wanna take another look at him. Without the alcohol in my system you know. Besides, the place isn't that bad." You reply.

"Well then get killed by yourself. I'm not coming with you."

"I'll help you with your papers for the rest of the semester."

"Shit."

"Well, looks like your wish won't be coming true," Katelyn muses chugging down her fourth glass as you keep playing with your first one. It's nearing an hour since you've come to the bar and there has been no sign of the man you desperately seek. The place is exactly like it was the other day, filled with people who you wouldn't want to mess with.

Yet here you are.

"Let's call it a night," Katelyn sighs. "We're just wasting our time." You know that too but you don't want to leave; not just yet. You are well aware that this is just pathetic but you've this crazy urge to see that man once again. You don't know why you feel this way; you never felt like this before. Why are thinking yourself to death about a complete stranger? Has some kind of spell been casted on you?

"Yeah, let's get going," you murmur half heartedly. You help your friend stand up as she's a little wobbly on her feet and together you make your way through the door. "Should we call a cab?" You ask Katelyn. She shakes her head no and you nod, you arms wrapped around hers to support her in case she looses her balance. You start stepping away from the bar and towards the road to her place until a noise from behind makes you stop in your tracks.

"Did you hear that?" You ask, whipping your head behind. There's no one around and the street is mostly dark other than the light flashing from the name of the bar. You hear the sound once again and this time you can locate where it's coming from. There's an abandoned playground at the back of the bar and you've a feeling that's the source.

Katelyn hisses as she sees you step towards there. "What are you doing!"

"Didn't you hear that?"

"Yes I did. That's why I say we leave!" You ignore her and cautiously keep on stepping forward, mentally cursing yourself for wearing heels. Katelyn follows behind you murmuring all kinds of warnings. "You know curiosity killed the cat, right?" She whispers.

You roll your eyes, "Well I'm not a cat. Just- be quiet. It can be nothing." You both move past the bar gingerly and towards the playground at the back. There are old gallons of oil and abandoned materials just around the corner and you two quickly hide among them. It takes you a while to get adjusted to the low light after you poke your head up from the hiding spot.

You're eyes fix on him immediately. His blond hair makes him easily recognisable amid the darkness. There is a few more people around him, all kicking something in the ground. Not something, but someone. The man lying on the ground groans in pain and you realize this is what you both heard. "Shit," You hear Katelyn curse from beside you. "We need to get going." Instead of replying, you keep your eyes trained on the scene unfolding, holding your breath. You're tranced. Seungcheol lands continuous punched on the guy laying below him and after a moment his writhing frame seems to stop moving as it falls limp.

Fuck.

"You know in movies this is the part where people get caught." Katelyn whispers, her voice hoarse and her hand clutching yours in a tugging motion. "Uh-huh. But I can't seem to move. I wonder if he's... really dead." You whisper back. "Are you fucking crazy!" She hisses. "You wanna witness murder?"

Before you can reply you hear a sound that echoes through the empty field and it takes a second for you two to realise that it came from any one of you two. You don't have the time to figure out who made it as you both are crawling away from the playground without looking back, head crouched low to avoid being seen. You don't know if they heard that or if they're coming behind you, you both just keep scrambling, moving until you're past the corner. As soon as possible you both get on your feet and run like the grim reaper is chasing you, stopping only when you are far enough from the bar.

"I am never listening to you again!" Katelyn yells.

It's been a good few days since your near death experience and you somehow find yourself in front of that bar once again. You and Katelyn have not brought up that incident after that night. You made yourself believe that it was over and came to a conclusion that it is better to forget that man and leave all of it behind, no matter how much your heart disagreed. But it's easier said than done; you may not mention him out loud but in the back of your mind you think of him. He's like a ghost, haunting you all the time, plagueing your thoughts when you go to bed at night. It felt like he was ever existent and there was an itch in your heart that drove you insane.

Maybe that's why your subconscious brought you here, in front of Seventeen's, once again. You were on your way back home from library and you thought you took your usual route, until you realized you were standing in front of that place. But what is even terrifying is that the man haunting your mind stands in front of the entrance of the bar and you blink a few times to make sure you are not hallucinating. He's leaned against the entrance door, cigarette between his lips and from his pocket he fetches a lighter to light the poison in his mouth.

Damn, lighting up a cigarette never looked this sexy.

He hasn't seen you yet and you contemplate running the other way. That's the sensible thing to do but you, not being a sensible person, start walking towards him. Your footsteps make him look up and notice you and like the last time, there is no expression on his face. It's the same bored yet handsome face except now in daylight you can take a better look at him and this time, you notice a little mole on the left of his face, by his nose. Realising he's gonna stay silent you decide to speak, "Hi... It's me... Do you remember me?" Wow. That's such an intelligent thing to ask.

With the monotoned yet serious expression on his face, he goes, "Why won't I? I don't have Alzheimer's."

So he can joke.

You laugh, an awkward, probably exaggerated laugh. "What are you doing here? Did you not learn your lesson last time?" He cuts to the chase, his voice brassy and deep, almost threatening. You want to roll your eyes. "Who are you to say? I can be wherever I want whenever I want, thank you very much." "Well then, have fun getting in trouble like last time." He's nonchalant as he blows a smoke right past you and stands up straight, turning away. "Wait!" You almost grab his hand, desperate to stop him.

What is wrong with you? Your subconscious slaps her forehead. What are you holding him back for? To say 'hello sir, I think you're hot, can you please put your dick inside me'? Seungcheol turns his head back, his eyebrow cocked up.

Why do you find everything about him so attractive?

"Um...I know your name, Seungcheol." You speak, trying to sound intimidating, like knowing his name gives you some power over him. There's something definitely wrong with you which is why you don't want him to leave just yet and which is why you're stalling time. But it seems to have done the job as he pulls the cigarette out of his mouth and turns towards you, an annoyed look on his face. "How do you know that?" The timbre of his tone is deep and it rakes shivers down your spine. "Well, you've built quite a reputation for yourself so it isn't hard to get your name." You shrug coolly. "Well, if you know so much about my reputation, you should know what I'm capable of." His lone is low, almost threating as he starts to take slow steps towards you making you step back out of reflex.

Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. Maybe you will also end up like the curious cat.

"Oh yes, I know. People have got a lot to say about you," you try to sound unfazed, not meeting his eyes that you feel are burning holes on your face. "What are you doing here, lady?" he asks slowly, pausing between each word and glaring at you as he continues to step forward. You can feel his patience thinning.

"I swear to God if you call me that-"

"What are you doing here?" This time his tone is scary, too scary. It makes you lose the ability to speak for a second as his dark gaze bores into you. He has backed you up against the wall behind you and you swallow. Right, what are you doing here? It probably has something to do with a very hot individual and his insanely attractive aura. Scratch that you are a hundred percent sure it has something to do with the blond haired, enticing man in front of you. He's driving you mad and you need to get your fill of him.

"Go out with me," you state and you are sure you've never spoken words more stupid than that. Internally, you cringe and pray that the ground below you would open and take you straight to the fiery pits.

This is the first time you see some sort of expression come across his face; surprise. He looks utterly shocked and somewhat confused. His mouth opens just a little and he squints at you, "What?"

There's no going back now.

"Go out with me. Let's go on three dates." you say once more, looking him in the eye. He seems to appear even more surprised, a dumbstruck look sitting on his face. He observes you quietly for a while and you can feel the gears in his head shifting. You wonder what he's gonna say next. Or maybe he won't say anything but bang your head on the wall and leave you to die alone. "I'm sorry I'm not following," he looks genuinely perplexed. "I want to go on three dates with you. They say after three dates you can figure out whether you like that person or not and I think I like you so..."

I think I like you.

The biggest understatement of the year.

Seungcheol tilts his head, an amused expression on his face as he studies you, those sharp eyes of his settling on yours, "What is your deal, sweetheart?" He crosses his arms, a brow raised. Sweetheart? That's new. And definitely better than lady. You can't deny how hearing him call you that makes your insides melt. "Nothing. I just want to date you," you shrug, trying to keep your wits together. His proximity is driving you wild; you can sniff a faint smell of cologne and cigarette, him being inches away from you. This time he laughs loudly, a mocking laugh you'd say. "Who sent you?"

Oh my god.

You roll your eyes. "Nobody sent me! Do I look like I'm a gang member or something?" "Then I don't see a reason why you'd want to date me," He states, throwing a challenging look at you.

"What if I said I have a thing for bad boys?"

He snorts. "You don't look the type to date bad boys," he mocks. "Who are you to say that?" You cross your arms. "I want to date you because I think you're hot, okay?" You can not believe you just said that. Looks like you don't have control over your mouth anymore. Warmth spreads throughout your face like a forest fire.

Seungcheol narrows his eyes on you, his tongue poking his cheek as he stands in front of you as if trying to read your mind. After a beat he sighs before looking at you, his eyes becoming darker than usual and his gaze unforgiving. "Hey. Does it look like I'm playing house here? Do you have any idea about the shit I do? The dirty work I do? I don't care if you have a fucking fetish or whatever but this is the last time I'm warning you. I don't want to see you around again. If I see you here once more, you're in fucking trouble," he spits and starts stomping away. His tone is serious and you know very well he is not joking, which is why you use your last resort. You're embarrassed at yourself for being so desperate but at the same time you feel shameless. It has almost turned into a game at this point, you want to make him surrender. That's right, you want him to give in. "You shouldn't be like that with me. I saw you, a few days ago. That night, when you and your friends were beating up that guy...in the playground," you casually stroll to come stand right behind him.

You can't believe you are blackmailing a gangster. Your death must be near.

Seungcheol whips his head back, his eyes glaring at you and you can almost see fire in them. Finally, you got his attention.

"My friend also saw it, we both did. You killed him, didn't you? Me and my friend witnessed a murder. What do you say? Should we go to the station?" You can see his jaw clench and you can't hold back a victorious smirk. Moments pass by as your words hang in the air and the tension between you gets thicker. Yet once more he surprises you, breaking the silence with a chuckle, "Well I killed one person, what makes you think I can't take care of another?"

You swallow.

"Well, my friend already knows so if I go missing you can be sure that the cops will come to you first." You throw back at him.

When did you get so wreckless?

Seungcheol stares at you for a few more seconds before shrugging and moving his hand dismissively, "Well then go tell the cops. I don't give a shit." He starts walking back to the bar leaving you starstruck. He stops and turns towards you before opening the door, "Also, I meant it. I hope I don't see you around. Otherwise I may just have to hurt that pretty face."

You don't show up after that.

Mostly because you are embarasssed.

It's been a good while after your last encounter with Seungcheol and you didn't go to the police, obviously. Because you don't have evidence and from what you've heard Seungcheol is pretty influential around here and you don't need to go to an extent to get on his bad side. You're definitely gonna end up dead if you do so, which you don't want just yet.

Classes have just finished and you and Katelyn step out of the classroom together, walking through the hallways and into the main campus. She rambles on about some bad sushi she ate yesterday while your mind remains preoccupied. Maybe you need to get laid. Maybe that'll make you forget about Seungcheol. You just need good dick that's probably why you were so desperate for him.

That's just a stupid lie.

You don't realise Katelyn is calling you until she shakes you by the shoulder and you snap back into reality. You notice her face is as pale as a ghost and following her line of sight your eyes stop on him.

Him. Seungcheol.

What?

You double take, blinking furiously to confirm your vision. He's standing there, in the parking area of your uni, leaned against a convertible Ferrari, a cigarette between his lips. He looks relaxed, like he does this regularly. Students whisper in each others ear while gawking at him curiously. "What did you do!" Katelyn yells. "Nothing!" You hiss back.

"Then why is he here!"

"I don't know!"

Your eyes meet with Seungcheol's and a smirk spreads across his face making you shiver. He stands up straight and tilts his head, an indication for you to come closer to him. "Fuck, he's here for me," you mumble. "Of course he's here for you, dumbass," Katelyn snaps. "Well, if I don't return, you know who killed me." You sigh starting to walk towards him. "Wait- you're going with him?" She asks incredulously.

"Don't worry. I'll keep my phone on. I don't think he's gonna murder me, I mean there are so many witnesses." You inhale deeply, leaving behind a lost looking Katelyn.

Seungcheol says nothing as you stand right in front of him raising an inquisitive brow but he only holds open the door for you to get in. Deciding to follow him you enter the car quietly and a wave of gasps go through the crowd.

There's gonna be talk about this tomorrow.

Seungcheol, still smirking victoriously for some reason rounds the car and gets inside and within seconds you're hitting the road. There's a thick silence for a while, which feels like ages to you. You're overwhelmed, bewildered to say anything; your poor brain still processing what is happening. You're nervous, jittery as you fiddle with you bag and look out on your side, for some reason scared to look at him.

What if he really kills you? He wouldn't, right?

"You're awfully quiet," Seungcheol says matter of factly as he spares you a glance while driving.

"I'm... processing."

"What are you, a robot?"

"Why are you doing this?" You question instead.

"Doing what?"

"Okay, you know very well what I mean. Why are you picking me up from uni all of a sudden? How do you even know I'm a student there?" "I have resources and...you didn't protest at all. You came along nicely," Seungcheol raised a brow at you, a cocky smile on his lips. You don't answer but continue to stare at him, trying to pin him down with your gaze. He finally sighs and pulls the car to a stop by the side of the road, the sudden brake making you slightly jerk in your seat. "I've decided to give you those 3 dates. That's why," He is calm, unreadable and you wonder if this is a prank. Then again, he has no reason to prank you, does he? "Really?" Your voice comes out breathy. "Yes. I thought I'd give you a taste of how it feels to be with someone like me. I can scare people without physically hurting them you know," He says in a menacing tone.

"So what? You're taking me to an underground fight or something?" You question. "Nah, we're keeping it simple today." He smirks as he starts the car again and turns on the radio, an indication that he doesn't want to converse anymore.

Shamelessly you take a good look at Seungcheol; he's dressed in another jacket today paired with a black tee underneath. Today, you notice he has upped his accessory game, his fingers full of rings and chains dangling from his neck. But what catches your attention is a tattoo, something like a dragon and words written in a language you don't understand, peeking from underneath his sleeve. You almost ask about it but decide it'll probably be too much and he wouldn't answer you anyway.

As you do so, in the back of your mind you think you should have dressed better, something cuter, more appropriate for a date rather than a plain blouse and jeans. But then again who knew Choi Seungcheol was gonna show up out of the blue. You're gnawing at your lower lip, lost in your thoughts when the car is pulled to a halt and you realize your ride is over. You're parked in front of a diner called Lacy's and from the vibe that the place is giving, you can tell that this is place where people like him hang out. You raise a questioning brow at Seungcheol who says, "I know it doesn't look fancy but trust me I has some of the best food I've ever eaten." Taking his words for now you quickly type out a text to Katelyn letting her know you're in one piece and get out of the car.

Once you're seated you look around the place which is relatively empty except some men playing pool at the far end. You watch Seungcheol who has gone to the reception booth to place your orders; his posture relaxed as he leans against the counter and talks to the girl standing there. They seem to know each other because their chat takes longer than it should and the girl has a shy, almost flirty smile on her face.

He probably fucks her.

You shake the thought off your head as the gangster comes back and sits in front of you. There's silence for a second as you wonder if you should just ask the questions that run free around your mind. "Are the rumours true?" You blurt out. He's raises a brow.

"About you. You know..."

"Do you want them to be true?" He asks back. "I don't...know," you reply. "Well, I think it depends on each person. If you want it to be true it is true, if you don't it isn't," he shrugs, leaning back in his chair. "Why don't you just give me a straight answer?" you snap. He smirks as if he's having fun but doesn't reply, watching you with his arms crossed. You roll your your eyes, blowing out an exasperated breath. "You know, I haven't seen one like you. Willingly hanging out with dangerous people, going to dangerous places. You say you saw me kill someone yet you're here. You're almost desperate to get in trouble," he observes. "I'm not desperate to get in trouble. I just...I'm just- attracted to you alright?" This is so embarrassing. You need to shut your mouth. "You've been on my mind ever since that night. I wanna see exactly how deep I'm into you." You bite your lip.

That's enough. You will boost his ego through the roof like this.

Seungcheol studies you for a bit before grinning cockily, "Well, if you didn't know, I am trouble baby. Just you being with me might end you up in a mess." Before you can reply, your food is served, that same girl from the booth setting down your plates and looking at Seungcheol for a bit too long with that same stupid smile which he returns. You don't know why but you feel jealous, jealous of whatever these two share, whatever she has with him.

You've lost your mind at this point. You're on a high that is Seungcheol. He has made you forget your morals, made you completely lose your mind. Or maybe you've been too good all your life and seeing him brought out that crazy, thrill seeking part of yourself.

Silently you dig into your food and as Seungcheol said, the food is really good. This is one of the best meatloaf you've ever had and you can't help but moan. Seungcheol watches you with an amused smile before popping a fry in his mouth.

"What's your major?" Seungcheol asks out of the blue.

"Uh- sociology."

"Mmhmm."

You're about to ask him what he studied in college but you assume he probably never went to one so you seal your lips. You wonder what his background is and who his parents are but you don't want to get too personal on the first day. So you ask something else, "How old are you?" He laughs out loud before he deadpans, "Thirty five." "What!" You almost choke.

There's no way he's-

"Why? What did you expect?"

"I... I don't know! A few years older than me? You're kidding right? You don't look thirty five." He has to be bluffing. "And how old would you be?" "You shouldn't ask a woman her age," you try to make a point. "Don't you have any manners?" He smirks,"I don't, sweetheart. To answer your question, I'm twenty eight."

Uh huh.

"Well, I'm twenty one," you mutter under your breath. You don't know if he hears it because he doesn't give any reaction, busy twirling a fry in sauce. The rest of your meal is full of silence as you wonder if your date will end like this; dry and boring. He's awfully silent and seems to be lost in thoughts as he doesn't engage in a conversation. You're about to take your last bite when the silence is broken by him.

"What did you see that night?" He leans over, his elbows resting on the table as he suddenly regards you with a sombre look, his earlier cockiness vanished. His eyes have once again gone dark and his demeanor says he's not being superficial right now. You're caught off guard as you cough loudly, reaching for your glass to take a sip of water. "What?"

"You heard me. What did you see that night? Exactly how much did you see?" He repeats. You're confused. You thought he didn't care about it. He said it didn't matter. So why is he bringing it up now? You've worked hard to push that night in the deepest part of your brain, pretending it didn't happen.

And then suddenly it clicks.

"You!" You point an accusatory finger at him as you catch on to his plan. "You've agreed to go out with me so that you can find out what I saw that night!" Seungcheol groans, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Ugh, just fucking tell me!" He snaps, annoyed that you've found out his little scheme. You scoff, "I thought you said you didn't care? Besides it's not like I'm going to tell the police." He rolls his eyes and leans back into the couch. "Just tell me and let me go."

You're baffled. His actions didn't make any sense and you actually thought he had no other intentions behind dating you but holy shit this sneaky bastard. "You sly little asshole!" You hiss at him. "Call me that once more and you'll regret it." He threatens. You roll your eyes sagging back into your seat, "Whatever." Then an idea hits you. "You know what, I'll tell you exactly how much I saw that night." You have Seungcheol's full attention now as he stares intensely at you, waiting for your next words. "On our third date. When this whole deal is over, I'll tell you. But in return you'll have to keep your promise and take me out on two more dates."

"Oh fucking hell," he groans rubbing his face in frustration. His state makes you smirk and you feel accomplished.

Choi Seungcheol is stressed because of you.

What a day to be alive.

You murmur, "Besides this isn't even a proper date. This was more like an interrogation. But I'll go easy on you and won't make you redo this date." You give him a sweet smile and he sees red. You can literally see fury blaze in his eyes. "Whatever!" He yells and abruptly stands up. "I don't have time for this. Your stupid play date is over. I'm dropping you home."

Before you can reply, he's marching towards the door. You've to admit this wasn't the best date but at least you've trapped Choi Seungcheol.

It has been a good week after your so called date at the diner and you haven't heard from him. You expected him to call or text you since he was gracious enough to ask for your number but he didn't. You now realize it was a mistake to not get his number; you had asked him for his when he took yours but being the prick he is he denied to hand over his number to you. You should have forced him to, you sigh. As you sit in the library the ping of your mobile distracts you from your racing thoughts as you realize you have a message. Picking the device up you tap on the notification. Even though it was from an unknown number, you have no trouble figuring out who it is from. A smile graces your lips as you read the words over again.

I'll pick you up from your house tomorrow evening at six.

That's all it says and that is good enough to send a thrum of excitement throughout your body.

You have not held back in dressing up today and you realize it's been a long time since you've dolled up yourself. A long before the clock strikes 6 you are ready; dressed in a cute pastel top and a matching skirt. You've also went ahead and applied makeup, not too much but just enough to maybe catch his eye. Maybe.

You wonder what he has planned for today.

A text from Seungcheol saying he's here has you flying out of your apartment as fast as your feet can carry your desperate self to see him. He stands in front of your apartment with his convertible, dressed in a white jacket that matched his pants. You take a deep breath before walking towards him, trying to calm all your nerves down.

"You know I expected to hear from you earlier. I've been waiting all week," you voice makes his head turn around to meet your eyes as you are skipping towards him with a teasing smile in your face. "I've been busy," he shrugs coolly, his eyes going over your whole body, from your legs to your face. He doesn't hide that he's taking a good look at you, in fact does it unashamedly.

You wonder if he likes what he sees.

Someone dressed up today," he comments. "Too bad we aren't going to a place where you can show off your pretty clothes." You frown, "Where are we going?" Seungcheol holds open the door, a mischievous smile on his face. "I've decided to grant your wish." With a confused face you get inside the car, the gears in your head running. What does he mean?

"I'm taking you to an underground fighting ring," he says with smirk as he reaches for something behind his seat. He pulls out a large hoodie and tosses it towards you, "Put this on. Otherwise you are going to attract a lot of attention and you don't want that." You gulp, taking the hoodie and putting it on you. You're slightly embarrassed. You were so excited to try this outfit but it's not like you knew he was taking you to a fight club. Hell you would have dressed like a guy if you knew. You shrug on the hoodie and it falls almost to your knees but it's huge and comfy and most importantly it smells like him. There's a hint of cologne, nothing too strong; a subtle, expensive scent that makes you want to take a deeper sniff. You wonder if you can keep this with you.

Stop it, pervert.

Seungcheol's voice pulls you out of your haze, "You can take it off later. Just wear it until we're out of there," he says and brings the engine to life.

Then you actually think about it. Underground fighting ring? Holy shit. You were only kidding when you mentioned it. Admittedly, you're shocked, somewhat horrified. Everyone knows it isn't the best place to be at especially for someone like you who never had such an experience. Seungcheol must have seen your expression because the smile on his face gets bigger, "Why? You not up for it?" His voice is teasing.

He's challenging you.

Oh well.

"Of course I'm up for it," you square your shoulders, keeping your voice cool. "Bring it on."

Seungcheol leads you into a bar and then through a door at the back that leads down to a lot of stairs, reaching a place similar to an underground parking lot. Quietly you follow Seungcheol, staying as close to him as possible, your bodies occasionally touching. He leads you to a pair of double doors and from the other side you can hear men shouting and chanting.

This is it, I guess.

Seungcheol throws one more smile at you before pushing open the doors as you scramble to follow him closely. The sight that greets you something you only see in movies. There's a boxing ring where two people are throwing punches at each other and surrounding them from all sides is a wild, loud and excited crowd. They continue to cheer loudly as the two men in the ring continue to box and you hear their grunts and groans.

Holy shit.

Swallowing your eyes meet Seungcheol's who is regarding you with curiosity. "What do you think?" He has to speak loudly for you to hear over the screaming throng. "Uh... It's loud," you say dumbly as you try to think of a reply. But it's too loud for you to even think properly as you take in your unfamiliar surroundings. You see a tall man approaching towards you and out of reflex you shuffle closer to Seungcheol until you realize it's his friend. The guy from the first night. He and Seungcheol grin at each other, patting their backs as they talk close to each others ears. You gawk at them curiously and realize they must be talking about you because his friend takes curious glances at you occasionally. His friend is tall, really tall and well built but unlike his body his face is sweet and puppy like, almost cute. When he grins his canines pop up just like a puppy and you wonder if all his friends are good looking.

After he's done chatting with his friend Seungcheol pulls you close and says, "This is my friend. Mingyu. Always stay near him, you hear me? Don't stray away unless you wanna get hurt." His eyes are stern as he pins you down with his stare but you have other thoughts running in your head.

"What do you mean? Where are you going?" You yell over the noise.

He just smirks at you and starts taking his jacket off. "About time you see how we do it around here." His tone is cocky as he hands his jacket to you, "Hold this for me. And stay close to him."

Giving a look at Mingyu Seungcheol starts walking away towards a door that you're guessing is the changing room.

He's gonna fight.

"Wait- but-" Mingyu stops you with a hand on your shoulder and offers you a kind smile. "It's fine. Just stay with me." He then ushers you towards the crowd, spotting a place where you can get a good look at the ring. "Do you guys do this often?" You look up at Mingyu. He smiles sheepishly, "Not me. I tried a few times and I always end up beaten to a pulp. But hyung does this often, he's really good."

"Uh huh, I'm sure he is," you smile dryly. "This is your first time watching a fight, no?" "Definitely." He grins, "Watch carefully then. It's really fun."

You have your doubts on how watching people beat each other up can be fun but you don't comment anything, instead chew on your lip anxiously. Seungcheol really didn't have to go this far? What if he gets hurt badly? Is he trying to impress you?

Don't flatter yourself, your subconscious rolls her eyes.

As the loud cheering that had died down ensues again, your train of thoughts are halted as you see Seungcheol in shorts and his hands covered in boxing gloves, step into the ring. You can't help but ogle at his naked torso, his finely defined and chiseled muscles. He has the perfect body, not too bulky, not too lean just the right amount that gives you a hard time taking your eyes off him. He seems to have noticed your gaze because the second your eyes meet, he throws a haughty, knowing smirk at you. Embarrassed you avert your gaze elsewhere.

His opponent is a muscular man who's growling and banging his chest with his fists, a gesture of intimidation, you suppose. You are definitely intimidated and you wonder if Seungcheol can actually win against him.

The fight starts with a whistle and in mere seconds they are on to each other, throwing punches left and right. Your eyes have a hard time keeping up with them and their fast reflexes and your hands fly to your mouth as a punch lands on Seungcheol's face, followed by repeated blows as Seungcheol falls back. There's a moment of silence as he wipes his bottom lip and you realize there's a cut.

He tilts his neck, popping the bones and glaring at the other man before launching himself on top of his opponent. The next moments are a blurry mess, Seungcheol beating the guy repeatedly until he ends up on the floor but he doesn't stop there. Seungcheol ends it with a sharp jab to his spine and you have no doubt the other man has broken bones with the ways he howls in pain. The match comes to an end like that as the people cheer wildly while Seungcheol steps down from the stage. Mingyu grins at you happily as if what you witnessed was just a regular occurrence, something you should be cheerful about. Shaking your head at the situation, you let out a deflated sigh.

Their life is really so different than yours.

Seungcheol seems to be in a very good mood after the fight as he buys you both some sandwiches and drinks from a deli after you both step out of the bar. You both sit down at a park nearby to eat and watch the night sky. "You know, I thought you were gonna lose," you speak after taking a few bites of the sandwich. Seungcheol scoffs, "You underestimate me, sweetheart. I've been doing this for a long time."

"Do you enjoy it?" You ask quietly, focused on peeling the wrapper from your food. You feel Seungcheol's stare on you. "Yes. Why? Are you scared already?"

"No. I was just... curious. Your definition and my definition of fun is totally different." You murmur. "Of course. What did you think? I go to the mall and shop and watch movies with my friends when I'm bored?" His tone is sarcastic. You bite your lip. "No I didn't. It's just...I feels different now that I have experienced it first hand." Seungcheol offers nothing more, taking a sip of his coke and leaning back into the bench. A silence stretches between the both of except the rustling of the wrapper of your food. "How long have you been doing this?" You blurt out. He frowns at you and you don't expect him to answer but he surprises you.

"For a long time."

He doesn't offer anymore and you don't have the heart to prod him for an actual answer. "And how long do you plan on doing this?"

"What?"

"I mean... don't you have any other plans. Like...do you wanna keep doing what you are doing for the rest of your life? Don't you wanna like... settle down maybe?" Your voice is soft as if you are talking to a child. Seungcheol looks annoyed. He doesn't speak for a while as he stares at the ground, a frown etched to his face. You're about to take back your question when he replies, "I really don't think you understand. I've been trying to tell you that my life is completely disparate to yours. So I don't think like you. I don't have plans like you but neither am I expected to follow a certain pattern like you. I can do whatever the fuck I want, ___. So don't look at me like you pity me. I'm the last person here that should be pitied. " His tone is sharp and it makes you feel bad, like a sensation of needles pricking your heart. "I didn't mean it like that. I'm sorry," You whisper, feeling timid as you look down at your lap. He mutters, "Don't go poking your nose in other people's business. Specially people like me."

He's right. You shouldn't have asked that. You are not close enough to ask things like that. After that there is a silence, this time, an awkward one. There's palpable tension in the air and you feel jittery. Should you just ask him to take you home?

It's still early and truth be told, you don't want to leave him just yet. You only have one more date to go and judging by his reaction, he is in no way interested in a relationship. You heave out a long sigh. You knew very well what you were getting into, yet you couldn't stop yourself. Seungcheol is like a poison, the sweetest one, the one that has you addicted and unable to let go, no matter how much it hurts.

This is a fucking mess.

"Let's get going. I have plans," Seungcheol announces, standing up. You want to protest but you feel like you have ruined the mood, so you follow him mutely to his car.

The drive to your house is awfully quiet, to the point you want to scream out of frustration. Seungcheol seems to be lost in his head as he makes no move to talk. It's like you are alone, but you're not and it's worse, the air full of tension. Soon you have reached your house and he stops the car but keeps the engine rolling, indicating his rush. He keeps still and stares ahead while gripping the steering wheel as you step out of the car in silence. "Thanks for dropping me home," you say lamely, your voice meek. You turn around to walk away but his voice stops you in your tracks.

"I promised you three dates and I will keep my word. I expect you to keep yours, ___. I hope you will tell me what I want to hear when we meet next time." His tone is sharp with an edge of threat and you barely get to nod before he drives away.

It's not until you're inside your apartment that you realize you still have his hoodie on. Quickly fishing out your phone you type out a text.

I'm sorry, I forgot to return your hoodie.

After a while, his reply comes.

Keep it.

You watch Katelyn as she fills her lunch tray with food before walking over and taking a seat opposite to you. She looks extra radiant today, which probably has something to do with the way she's dressed; a bright colourful outfit which undoubtedly she put a lot of time into considering. She has a date, with a guy she has been talking to for the last few weeks. It reminds you of your pitiful situation and you sigh, trying to shrug off those thoughts.

It has been a good couple weeks since you last saw Seungcheol and you have not exchanged a word after that night. In the back of your mind you wonder if he is even alive. You want to message him, you really want to because you are going crazy but after how your last date ended, you can't bring yourself to. You are scared, exactly of what, you can't put your finger into.

The entire situation you have put yourself into is fucking scary. They say you become sure of your feelings after three dates but it did not take that much for you. You already are very certain about your feelings for him and how deep they run exactly and you also know that in the end you will be left scarred. He would never be yours. He has probably forgotten about you or decided that it is not worth another date to figure out what you saw that night.

You let a desperate, pitiable sigh.

"I know you are hiding things from me but I understand that you are not ready to talk yet. But I want you to know I am here for you okay?" Katelyn's voice makes you blink your way out of your thoughts. She squeezes your hand tightly and gives you a reassuring smile and you're left feeling guilty.

"I ...I will tell you. Soon. Just give me a bit more time," you whisper. She nods in understanding. A grateful smile touches your lips as her words make you emotional. Then there's a ping from your phone letting you know there's a message. Without giving it much thought you open the device and your eyes go wide.

I'll take you out for dinner tomorrow night. Wear something formal.

You wait outside your apartment for Seungcheol. Your day has passed by in a flurry of excitement and nerves as you carefully picked your outfit and did your hair and makeup. A soft baby pink dress that stopped just above you knees adorns you as your hair rests just above your neck in a loose bun.

You are fiddling with your fingers as you think about how this night is gonna end and wether you will ever see him again when a car screech that grabs your attention.

Seungcheol's convertible has taken a stop in front of you and you see the man getting out the vehicle and take big steps towards you.

You're mesmerized.

Perhaps there is not enough word in this world to describe his looks or perhaps you've simple lost the ability to speak; either way, you just stand and stare, drinking the godly man that stands in front of you. He looks delectable, completely flawless and agonizingly gorgeous in his sharp black suit and pants, with a silk black shirt underneath, the top couple buttons undone that reveals a beautiful porcelain skin. His hairstyle completes the look, parted to one side in a sleek way and showing his forehead and oh god is it sexy. You realize you have a forehead kink, if there is anything as such.

If you weren't in love with him before you are now.

He looks ravishing, and you wonder why it isn't illegal to look this good. It should be because you have completely lost control over yourself. Nothing exists in your world except for him and you feel paralyzed, unable to do anything but drink him in. You wonder if you are even worthy to stand beside him.

"____?" Seungcheol calls you, snapping his fingers in front of your eyes. He must have been calling you while you were eye fucking him. "Oh! Um, hi." You're flustered. "You- you look really, really nice." It isn't enough but it's what you can get past your lips. A knowing smirk kisses his lips before he teases, "Well, you look really, really nice too." Motioning you to his car he says, "Shall we? We'll be late for our reservation."

"Yeah, of course," you say, hurrying over to his car, embarasssed at your foolery. Seungcheol must have noticed you ogling him like that. But you don't really care when he looks like that. It is his fault for looking so devilishly handsome and idly you wonder if he did that on purpose. If he's deliberately teasing with, trying to make you the most miserable before letting you go with a slap of reality to your face. Pushing away those plagueing thoughts, you sit up straight and clear your throat as Seungcheol comes to sit beside you and brings the engine to life.

A decently long and quiet (except for the music from the radio) but not quite uncomfortable car ride later, Seungcheol stops in front of a really fancy and expensive looking restaurant just by the sea. You did not except him to take you to a high end restaurant, otherwise you would have put some more effort in your looks.

Feeling slightly out of place you quietly follow Seungcheol into the beautiful European styled building after he hands his keys to a valet. The interior is dripping with polished furnitures and extravagant chandeliers and marble floors as guests dressed elegantly have their dinner. As you look around the place in awe Seungcheol talks to the receptionist who then guides you towards a staircase that leads to a pair of large double doors decorated with gold which then, opens to a large balcony. In the middle of it sits a table with two chairs and an unceremonious gasp escapes your mouth as you realize this is where you will be having dinner.

The man from earlier takes his leave as Seungcheol helps you sit down before taking a seat for himself while you take in everything, overwhelmed with all your surroundings. Why did he put so much effort for a lousy and fake date?

"What do you think?" He asks with a smirk as he rests one of his elbows on the table.

"I'm overwhelmed," you reply quietly, honestly. He chuckles, "Well this place has really good food and a fantastic view so I thought it wouldn't bad for our last date."

Last date.

"It's really beautiful. I don't know why you did this but thank you, really," you murmur, eyes on the satin table cloth with intricate golden lining. Everything about this place is so pretty.

"Well, I decided it would be beneficial for me to extract words from you if you are wooed," his words have a teasing tone to it and his demeanor is completely different from last time, giving you a whiplash but you are not sure if he's fully joking. Before you can say that you are definitely wooed, a waiter appears to take your order and you leave the duty of ordering to Seungcheol since he seems to frequent this place. Prior to his leave, the waiter pours you Seungcheol's champagne of choice and then, you two are alone once more.

Reaching for the flute, you quickly gulp down the champagne to soothe your dry throat and to calm all your nerves.

Over dinner you talk about your uni and your parents back home and the farm they own. While Seungcheol mostly keeps quiet he doesn't ignore you but listens carefully, occasionally passing glances your way or commenting. He does not offer anything about him, which you expected and you don't ask any questions about him either. Instead you try your best to keep his interest in your words despite the lack of it from his side.

After a hearty meal of poached lobsters and wagyu beefs and creamy soups comes dessert; a chocolate orange mousse with spiced fruits and yogurt sorbet. You start eating your dessert in silence, the occasional crashing of waves filling the complete lack of sounds.

This location is truly magnificent and breathtaking, almost having a feel like you're in a fancy resort in a luxurious tropical island. It is undoubtedly the most beautiful place you have ever been, let alone have dinner at and you wonder if you would ever have the chance to visit some place like this had you not met Seungcheol. The man in question, continues eating quietly, seemingly lost in his thoughts. He looks lovely as always, if not more and you try to burn this image in your mind for you to look back at later. You want to ask him so many question, you want to tell him so many things but you're scared. Sacred if you do so this moment will break, scared it will annoy him and end your final date all too early. So you bite your tongue and finish your food as he does and after your plates are cleared away, you are served another expensive champagne as an end to your luxurious dinner.

Even though Seungcheol doesn't say anything, you assume it is time to spill the beans, to say what he has been wanting to hear from the beginning. You have teased him enough and it is time you give him what he deserves. Taking a deep breath, you open your mouth. "Me and Katelyn heard noises from the playground that night so we decided to check. It was pretty dark and we were tipsy but I recognized you and you were... beating someone up. We stayed there and watched until one of us accidentally made some noise. We were scared that you heard us so we ran. That's all that happened."

You have Seungcheol's full attention now as he listens cautiously, his sharp eyes trained on you. Gulping, you clench your hands together underneath the table, waiting for his reaction. There seems to be an eternity of silence as Seungcheol simply stares at you as if he's debating whether your words are true or not. It's torturous, awfully agonizing and when you can't bear it anymore you're about to speak but he beats you to it.

"I didn't kill him." His voice is quiet. You let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding. Somewhere in the back of your mind you believed it, you believed he wouldn't be cruel enough to kill someone just like that and as soon as he speaks those words you believe him, without a doubt, without a second of delay.

"I believe you." You whisper, holding his gaze. "That asshole deserved what he got. He shouldn't even be alive but I let him go. He's in a hospital now, if you are wondering." You nod quietly. It's scary how much you believe him, how much you trust him even though he is pretty much a stranger.

There's a moment of silence as you bask in his presence before he speaks, "____, men like me, we aren't the nicest people. But we are needed, the cops need us around. People like me do the dirty works for people like you so y'all don't face troubles. We do things in an unconventional way but that's just who we are. We aren't as bad as the rumours say but we definitely aren't someone you should be with." You open your mouth to protest but his sharp gaze makes you stop. "If you have not understood it yet, let me say it out loud. I am trouble. People like me is always bad news. Whatever we did until now, I hope you forget. That's the best, ____ trust me. I think we both got what we wanted so let's call it a night." Just like that, he stands up, not waiting for your reply.

You gawk at him, baffled as he pays the bill and starts walking away. Tears burn the back of your eyes and you bite your lip to hold them back. The ending that you had expected has taken place but you are having a hard time accepting it. Your subconscious reminds you that you deliberately got yourself into this even though you saw this coming. So there is no one to blame for it but you. Grabbing your purse, you stomp your way out of the restaurant and towards Seungcheol's car.

Seungcheol barely acknowledges you as you both get in the car and he presses the key to the ignition. You are fuming in your seat, his words and the way he dismissed you cutting you deep. His words come to you, I think we both got what we wanted. You want to laugh. How can he possibly think that? Is he really so stupid or is he deliberately ignoring your interest in him? You want to smack his perfect face, curse and scream at him but all you can do is sit still with your arms crossed as steam comes out of your head. Is he really not curious about your feelings? Does he possess none for you? Does these few days with you mean nothing to him? You have so many unanswered questions. Leaning back into your seat, you close your eyes and let out a frustrated sigh.

It feels like in the blink of an eye the drive to your place is over as Seungcheol halts his car in front of your apartment. He does not utter a single word, doesn't even spare a glance at you while patiently waiting for you to get out of the car.

Asshole.

You inhale deeply, trying your best to gather yourself together as you take off your seatbelt and turn towards him.

"Seungcheol?" Few seconds pass before he looks at you. Words are stuck in your throat. When your eyes meet his, you become mute, overwhelmed with emotions as your words die in your tongue. He keeps staring at you, not opening his mouth but waiting for you to speak. "Is this goodbye?" Your voice breaks.

"I believe we don't have any reason to see each other. We both got what we wanted," He says without batting an eye. You're left bemused, one step away from landing a slap on his face. How dare he say that?

"Do you really believe that?" Your words come out as an accusation. "I wanted to go out with you because I thought I have feelings for you! And I do! And my feelings have only increased since I first saw you. I want to see you again, Seungcheol. You may have gotten what you wanted but I didn't." Your fades into a whisper as tears burn the back of your eyes.

Seungcheol stays quiet, staring ahead, his brows knitted as if he's annoyed. "I promised you three dates, ____. And I gave you that. It's over. Your feelings? You'll get over them. It's better to be in pain for a while that be with someone like me."

"You can't say that! I get to decide for myself!"

"____," he sighs, rubbing his temples. "I'm a bad man. You should leave while you still have a good image of me. You'll get hurt because of me and I've caused enough pain to enough people. Just...go. Just forget me." You stare at him as frustrated tears roll down your cheeks. He doesn't meet your gaze but turns his head the other way. You are angry, infuriated and heart broken all at a time. Clenching your fists you inhale a shaky breath before reaching for him.

Before you can chicken out, you tilt his face towards you and quickly press your lips against his. Seungcheol seems to be shocked as a small gasp leaves his mouth but you don't let him push you away. Instead one of your hands come to rest on his thigh as he other cups his face to keep his mouth against yours. You kiss him with all you have left, pouring in every bit of passion and love for him as your tongues intertwine. By the time you are both breathless, Seungcheol gently pushes you back and peers into your eyes. "That's all I can give you, ____." He says, his voice the softest you have heard. You are broken into a million pieces and as much as your heart wants to cling to him, you suddenly feel tired, deflated like a popped balloon. Your emotions have drained you out and left nothing and right now, breathing almost seems too painful for you. Taciturnly, you grab your purse and step out the convertible. You hear another door shut behind you but you don't look back as your heavy steps carry you to the entrance of your building. When you are about to enter your apartment, you accumulate all your strength and courage to spare one final glance at him.

Turning around you see Seungcheol standing by his car, hands in his pockets, simply watching you. Even though your eyes are locked on each other, you don't see any emotion in them. He looks like the same expressionless, mysterious man you saw the first day. The man you fell in love with. Taking in his gorgeous features one last time, you bite your lip and turn away, forcing yourself to walk inside your apartment building.

Your chapter with Seungcheol ends here.

Epilogue

A/N : Okay so idk why this fucking app is being like this but it says I reached the maximum of 250 blocks but I thought tum1r didn't have a word limit?? Anyway so I've decided to break it up and put the rest of the fic in another post. Please click epilogue to read that.

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