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seongwars · 2 months ago

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Romancing Doctor Zayne ⟡ Part 1

Pairing: non-mc!matchmaker x zayne Genre: Regency era! Idiots to lovers. Fluff, humor, a dash of angst. MC/non-MC appears as your older sister, Sylus is your brother-in-law Summary: Dr. Zayne Li is a brilliant physician who's completely useless in social settings. You're one of Linkon's most sought after matchmakers tasked with finding his perfect match. What could go wrong when feelings get involved? Word Count: 11K--there will be a part 2!

a/n: it's finally here! this took me forever to write and i'm not quite done with my hiatus yet but because pride & prejudice is on netflix it inspired me to finish the first part of this fic.

You had never intended to be a matchmaker.

It had all started, rather embarrassingly, with a misplaced observation at Lady Talia’s estate last year. She had been hosting one of her elaborate afternoon teas and the conversation was just lively enough to make up for the lackluster company. Amid polite chatter, you had offhandedly remarked that Mr. Gideon seemed far more open and talkative when seated next to your dear friend, Simone.

Within a month, Gideon was calling on Simone with great enthusiasm, and not long after, they were formally courting. You had thought it a happy coincidence—until the morning after their engagement was announced, when Simone's parents arrived at your doorstep unannounced, beaming as though you had single-handedly saved their daughter from ruin.

“Oh, Y/N, we cannot thank you enough!” Her mother had gushed, clasping your hands between her gloved ones.

“If not for you, dear Simone might have—” She had stopped short, as if only then realizing who exactly she was speaking to.

“Might have what, my lady?” you inquired, tilting your head.

“Nothing, nothing. Just that we are so grateful for your keen insight. What a gift you have!”

Indeed. A gift you hadn’t fully appreciated until it happened again.

Dr. Greyson and Tara, brought together after you casually noted how often he seemed to linger near her at social gatherings. Then Lord Jeremiah and Miss Yvonne, whose mutual affection had gone unnoticed by everyone but you.

At first, you had brushed these successes off as coincidence, but when grateful families began inquiring about the monetary aspect of your services, you realized there was something to be made of this.

A spinster you may be, but you were a spinster with a talent.

Your family, of course, had their opinions. Your parents were entirely unimpressed by your newfound profession, scoffing at the irony of a spinster making a career out of love matches.

“You spend your time making matches for others, but what of your own?” your mother had asked.

Without missing a beat, you had taken a sip of your tea and replied, “Well, Mother, some of us prefer to keep our hearts and bank accounts intact.”

Your father had choked on his biscuit.

Your elder sister, on the other hand, had been much more supportive, though that may have had something to do with the fact that you'd been the one to nudge her in the direction of Mr. Sylus Qin, after nearly three years of will-they-won't-they nonsense. After a number of twists, turns, and misunderstandings, the two had finally married.

“Caleb! Oh, how good to see you!” your mother exclaimed, beaming as she welcomed your ever-cheerful neighbor into your home.

It wasn’t even noon yet.

Your father made a disgruntled noise behind his newspaper, turning a page with more force than necessary. You, still nursing your first cup of tea, resisted the urge to groan into it.

Caleb Xia was a morning person. Not just any morning person, but the sort who greeted the dawn with unbridled enthusiasm, who had probably already been up for hours tending to business and charming the entire ton before you had even considered leaving your bed.

It was unnatural. Even more unnatural was your mother’s relentless meddling in attempting to match you with Mr. Xia. But you had always known he was destined to be an eternal bachelor—especially after having his heart broken when your sister married Sylus.

“Mrs. Hunter,” Caleb greeted warmly. “Always a pleasure. The garden is looking rather lovely this time of year.”

Your mother preened at the compliment, as she always did. “Oh, you are simply too kind, dear.”

“Yes, entirely too kind,” you muttered into your teacup, earning a sharp look from your mother.

“Speaking of kindness,” Caleb took the seat across from you, helping himself to a scone from the spread as if he lived here. Which, frankly, he might as well have, given how often he turned up unannounced.

“I seek your wisdom.”

You took a slow sip of tea, eyeing him warily. “It will cost you.”

“Miss Hunter, this isn’t just any work,” he countered, helping himself to another scone.

“This is an opportunity.”

You frowned. “Opportunity for whom?”

“For you, of course. And my dear friend, Dr. Zayne Li.”

You hummed, pretending to consider, but the moment he said doctor, the glint of profit flashed before your eyes. Doctors were wealthy. They tended to be responsible, successful, and, most importantly, willing to pay handsomely for assistance in re-entering society.

“Go on.”

Caleb’s grin widened. “He’s a brilliant physician from Bloomshore. Kind, respectable, completely useless in social settings. If left alone, he’ll probably marry his medical books.” He pointed his butter knife at you.

“I thought, who better to guide him to the perfect match than you?”

“Does Dr. Li know you’re putting him up to this?”

“No. But! He will be grateful once he realizes what a fine service you’re providing.”

A doctor seeking to marry? That was a premium case, easily worth double your usual rate. Perhaps even triple, if Caleb’s assessment of his abysmal social skills proved accurate. You could already envision the eager mamas flocking to you, desperate to have their daughters matched with the elusive doctor.

“When is he expected in Linkon?”

“Next week.”

“Well then, it seems I have my work cut out for me. Tell the doctor that if there’s a match to be made, I shall find it.”

Dr. Zayne Li arrived in Linkon under blue skies.

Medicine had carried him through countless towns and estates, but social calls had never been his strength. He preferred his work, things that could be studied, measured and understood. People, however, were another matter entirely.

He exhaled, scanning the streets of Linkon with a creeping sense of weariness. The city was far livelier than Bloomshore, larger, louder, closing in from all sides with a restless energy that threatened to drain him.

“There you are,” Caleb greeted him with outstretched arms. “A little road-worn, but none the worse for wear.”

“I would have been content to arrive without an audience,” Zayne remarked dryly, brushing a bit of dust from his sleeve.

“Ah, but then I wouldn’t have the pleasure of informing you of your first obligation.”

“And what would that be?” he asked, already suspecting he would not like the answer.

Caleb’s grin widened. “A ball.”

“I’m not interested.”

“W-Wait!” Caleb caught his arm as he turned to leave.

“At least hear me out.”

“There’s nothing to hear. I do not dance nor do I have any desire to engage in frivolous social gatherings.”

"W-Well, that’s where you’ll meet my friend,” he said, clearing his throat. “Suffering from, uh, spinsterism.”

Perhaps referring to you as a "dear friend suffering from the dreadful affliction of spinsterism" had not been his finest moment. But in his defense, he had been desperate to convince Zayne to come to Linkon and cooperate. And now, thanks to his own loose tongue, he was stuck in an ever deepening pit of his own making.

Zayne straightened, suddenly intrigued by Caleb’s words. “I don’t believe I’ve ever encountered such a condition in my studies. Is it a chronic affliction or an acute one?”

Caleb blinked. “Uh—”

“The symptoms,” Zayne continued, eyes narrowing in curiosity. “Are they progressive? Does it worsen with age?”

“Well—”

“Has it been observed in married women, or is it exclusive to the unmarried? What are the physiological manifestations? Fatigue? Nervous palpitations?”

“Definitely some nervous palpitations.”

Zayne hummed, already lost in thought. “Fascinating. And what treatments have been attempted? Dietary changes? Bloodletting? Surely, if it’s as prevalent as you claim, there must be documented studies on the matter.”

“You’d be the first, Dr. Zayne,” Caleb coughed. He clapped the doctor on the back and steered him forward.

“Come now, we must make haste. We wouldn’t want your patient to waste away before you can examine her.”

Zayne’s brows furrowed in concentration as he trailed behind Caleb, his mind fully engaged in the absurdity of his own making.

“I must get my hands on these studies at once. I assume the condition is more prevalent in certain social classes?”

“Oh, definitely.” Caleb was fully committed to the bit now. “Particularly among well-bred young ladies past the age of five and twenty.”

Zayne muttered something about early onset cases and socioeconomic correlations as he strode ahead, completely unaware that he was the subject of Caleb’s greatest prank to date.

⟡

You stood near the entrance of the estate, offering polite curtsies to members of your family’s social circle, clients former and current as they arrived. The evening was lively, brimming with the chatter of Linkon’s elite. Yet, despite the spectacle, your thoughts were preoccupied with one particular arrival: the esteemed Dr. Zayne Li, whom Caleb had all but pleaded you to take under your wing.

You had wondered what he might be like.

Caleb had described a man of great intellect, one of the finest medical minds of his generation. A physician of both discipline and skill, a most promising acquaintance, Caleb had assured you. But dreadfully lacking in social graces.

At last, you spotted them. Caleb, striding forward beside him, a tall, serious looking man with green eyes that flickered across the crowd like he was searching for the nearest exit.

“Ah, there she is!” Caleb declared, far too loudly.

“Dr. Zayne, may I present my dear friend, Miss Y/N Hunter. The very picture of grace and resilience in the face of her most unfortunate affliction.”

You shot Caleb a look that promised retribution before turning to his companion with a stiff smile.

“Dr. Zayne, it’s a pleasure.”

The doctor studied you with an assessing gaze, his brow slightly furrowed. “You appear…surprisingly healthy.”

You blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“For someone afflicted with spinsterism,” he clarified, tilting his head, as though he were trying to reconcile your appearance with a dreadful prognosis.

“No pallor, no visible signs of deterioration…”

Your smile froze. Slowly, deliberately, you turned back to Caleb.

“Excuse us, Doctor,” you said, voice dripping with sweetness.

Without waiting for his response, you yanked Caleb behind a nearby pillar, making sure to drag him just far enough away so Zayne couldn’t hear the imminent disaster that was about to unfold.

“What,” you hissed, “did you tell him?”

Caleb held up his hands. “Now, before you get upset—”

“Caleb!”

“I may have slightly misled him into believing spinsterism a medical condition.”

You stared at him in disbelief. “A medical condition?”

“In my defense, he took the idea and ran with it before I could clarify.”

“You implied I was wasting away, didn’t you?”

“…Only a little?”

“I am going to strangle you!” you seethed, hitting him across the arm with your fan.

You straightened yourself, taking a deep breath to regain your composure. You couldn’t stay mad at Caleb forever—well, you could, but for now, there was a much more pressing matter. With one final glare you turned on your heel and made your way back to where Zayne stood.

“Doctor,” you began, smoothing your expression into something far more pleasant, “I do apologize for the interruption.”

You shot Caleb a sharp look before turning your full attention back to the doctor.

“I assure you, I am quite well, despite the rather imaginative condition Mr. Xia has misdiagnosed me with.”

Zayne blinked, still processing what had just happened. "I...see. No harm done, I hope."

“None whatsoever! Well, Doctor,” you said, lips curving into a smile, “I shall consider it my duty to make your suffering more bearable.”

“That is very generous of you, Miss Hunter.”

Without hesitation, he held out his arm in polite invitation. You gladly accepted, letting your gloved fingers rest lightly against the fabric of his sleeve as you entered the ballroom.

As you wove through the ton, you let your gaze drift over the gathered company, taking careful note of the ladies in attendance. You had done this many times before, matchmaking for friends and acquaintances alike, but this particular challenge intrigued you more than most.

Zayne was not entirely socially inept, nor was he entirely withdrawn, but there was a guardedness about him. He would need a particular kind of match; someone patient enough to understand his quiet nature or charismatic enough to pull him effortlessly into conversation.

You stole a glance at him. He had not spoken since entering the room, but his emerald eyes flitted across the ballroom, as if cataloging details in his mind. A man accustomed to observing, rather than being observed.

“Are you always this silent, Doctor?” you asked, tilting your head to study him.

He blinked, as though pulled from his own thoughts. “Only when there is little to say.”

“Observation is a useful skill,” you mused. “As is conversation.”

“A skill I have yet to master, I’m afraid.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Then it is fortunate you have me as your guide.”

“And what, precisely, do you intend to guide me toward?”

You smiled, stepping slightly closer, letting the words linger between you for just a moment.

“Perhaps, if you believe in destiny, your soulmate. Or rather, a suitable marriage prospect.”

Zayne was not a man who responded to flattery, nor one easily drawn into idle conversation. He should have dismissed the notion outright, as romantic pursuits were a distraction, an indulgence he had never allowed himself due to the nature of his work. But something in your words, and a glint in your eyes, made his pulse stutter briefly.

“You seem far more interested in speaking with me than surveying prospects,” he remarked, with the slightest hint of amusement in his tone.

“I cannot very well find you a match if I do not first understand the man himself.”

He hummed, considering your words. “An admirable approach. Though I wonder…do all your cases earn such dedicated attention?”

“Only the particularly difficult ones.”

Zayne exhaled a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “Then I fear I may be your most challenging case yet.”

Undeterred, you lifted your chin. “I do enjoy a challenge, Doctor.”

And with that, you set about proving it.

Over the course of the evening, you introduced him to a variety of eligible ladies, each one possessing qualities you thought might complement his quiet nature.

Miss Callahan was certainly lovely, though you suspected her boundless energy wore Zayne out with his clipped responses. You could practically see him retreating from her overwhelming energy.

Miss Harper had been your next choice. She was sweet and soft spoken, who seemed more suited for Zayne’s temperament. Yet, as their conversation unfolded, you couldn’t help but notice the way she nervously smoothed her skirts, her gaze darting about as if searching for reassurance.

Then there was Lady Fairchild. Intelligent, poised, and confident. She launched into conversation with ease, but her impatience for hesitation was clear. Not that it mattered, Zayne was already meandering backward, preparing his escape.

It became evident, after a handful of introductions, that Zayne was not easily impressed, or perhaps, not interested at all. No matter the charm of his potential matches, he remained politely distant, maneuvering himself toward the quieter edges of the gathering. You found him there, lingering near the terrace, loosening his cravat.

“I take it that none of my carefully selected matches have won your favor?” you teased, stepping beside him.

Zayne exhaled, a quiet, almost imperceptible sigh. “They were all… perfectly pleasant.”

“And yet, here you are, standing as far from them as possible.”

“I find prolonged socializing…exhausting. I have never enjoyed being the center of attention.”

Your expression softened. “I suppose I should have considered that before parading you about the ton. My apologies.”

His lips twitched, as if he found something about your words amusing. “You needn’t apologize. I suspect Mr. Xia would have had me subjected to far worse if left to his own devices.”

You burst into laughter and Zayne found himself watching you more closely than he should have. There was something undeniably bright and effervescent about you, particularly in the way you laughed so freely. And yet, when you looked at him, it was not with expectation or disappointment, but with understanding.

You had not dismissed his discomfort or insisted he endure it for the sake of social decorum. Instead, you had acknowledged it.

His reluctance to engage with the others had been genuine, but as the evening wore on, he realized his avoidance had not been due to mere disinterest. It was not conversation he minded, it was who he shared it with.

And somehow, with you, it felt…effortless.

“If I must continue enduring such engagements, I may require more guidance,” he said, leaning in ever so slightly, as if drawing you into a conversation meant only for the two of you.

“Perhaps a bit of gentle coaching?”

“Well, Doctor, if you are willing to put in the effort, I shall gladly offer my expertise.”

Zayne held your gaze a beat longer than necessary, the edges of his lips curling into something almost like a smile. He had never been one for idle conversation, nor for the relentless pursuit of courtship but for you, he found himself willing to make an exception.

Caleb had seen a great many things in his life, but returning home after a long day at the military post to find Dr. Zayne Li standing stiffly outside your front steps, was quickly becoming his favorite source of entertainment.

And, as expected, in true Caleb fashion, he crashed breakfast the very next morning, making himself comfortable at the table. Without so much as a greeting, he reached for a generous serving of plum cake, tearing off a piece as he shot you a knowing smirk.

“I have to ask,” he drawled as he approached, “are you tutoring the poor man or have you taken it upon yourself to personally vet his prospects?”

You rolled your eyes. “I am simply assisting Dr. Li in social etiquette.”

“I’ve never seen Zayne take such a keen interest in socializing before,” he mused, reaching for another bite of cake.

“Strange, don’t you think? He’s always been content with books and yet, here he is, dutifully showing up at your door for lessons.” He propped his chin on his fist, eyes gleaming with mischief.

“Interesting, isn’t it?”

Across the table, your mother raised an eyebrow at the exchange but wisely chose to remain silent, sipping her tea.

You ignored Caleb’s relentless teasing, but despite your best efforts, you couldn’t deny that Zayne Li’s presence had become unexpectedly intriguing. What began as mere social lessons had turned into a routine.

Twice in the past week, he had arrived under the guise of refining his social skills. And yet, more often than not, those so-called lessons seemed to transform into long conversations about literature, contemporary issues, and the absurdity of high society’s unwritten rules.

Zayne sat across from you in the drawing room as your supposed lesson on proper introductions unraveled into yet another conversation, this time about the novel that had taken the ton by storm.

"You mean to tell me," you said, shaking your head with amusement, "that you have never read Snowy Serenity?"

"I was not aware it was required reading," he replied, one brow lifting as he leaned back in his chair.

"Dr. Zayne, how are you ever going to capture the attention of ladies if you do not know Snowy Serenity?" you teased, folding your hands in your lap with an air of mock seriousness.

"I was not aware that my success in courtship depended upon my knowledge of serialized fiction."

You gasped in mock offense. "Serialized fiction?" you echoed.

"It is only the most talked-about novel of the season! If you wish to hold a lady’s interest for longer than a dance, you must at least feign some familiarity with it!”

"And I suppose you are offering to educate me on the subject?"

"Naturally." You rose, crossing the room to retrieve your well-worn copy from a small stack of books before placing it in his hands.

“Consider this an essential part of your guidance. If you wish to navigate the intricate social landscape, you must be prepared to discuss this novel moment’s notice.”

“And if I fail to read it?”

“Then you shall never know the joys of a thoroughly engaging conversation with any lady of good standing,” you teased, resuming your seat.

Zayne turned the book over in his hands, his fingers brushing the slightly frayed edges of its cover. It was well-loved, he noted. You had read this more than once. The thought of you lost in its pages, utterly engrossed, made something flicker in his chest.

“If I am to read this,” he said at last, his voice quieter now, “I trust you will be available for…discussion.”

You brightened at the prospect. “Naturally. It is my personal copy, after all. I expect a full report."

He huffed a quiet breath of amusement, shaking his head, but made no effort to refuse the book. As he bid you farewell and descended the steps of your home, a question lingered in his mind, persistent and unresolved.

You were intelligent, well-read, and effortlessly social, qualities that should have made you a sought-after prospect. At seven-and-twenty, you were the same age as him, yet you had not married.

The thought followed him, settling into the quiet corners of his mind.

Why?

“Oh! Doctor Zayne! Before I forget!”

Your voice rang out just as he reached the gate, and Zayne turned to find you rushing past the door, barely able to contain your enthusiasm. You were speaking a mile a minute, laying out your latest plan—the boat races, the ideal setting, the eligible young ladies you were so certain he had to meet.

Zayne stood there listening, but his thoughts had long since drifted from the topic at hand. He wasn’t focused on the event, nor the prospects you were so quick to name.

Instead, his attention was fixed on you.

The way your eyes sparkled when you spoke, so full of life, so passionate about what you believed in. The way your hands fluttered, gesturing animatedly as you painted the picture of the future you were trying to shape for him. And despite your seemingly endless energy, the way you never seemed to tire of trying to help him, trying to guide him toward something you thought he needed, even if he hadn’t asked for it.

But as he watched you, Zayne realized that none of that seemed to matter at that moment. It wasn’t the boat races, nor the eligible ladies, nor the carefully crafted plans that held his attention.

It was the way you believed in everything you did, the way you believed in him, even when he wasn’t sure he deserved it.

⟡

The day of the boat race had arrived, and while the rest of the ton was content to picnic along the riverbanks and observe, you had viewed the event as an excellent opportunity to introduce Zayne to eligible young ladies rather than simply a leisurely afternoon surrounded by the finest families in Linkon society.

It was perfect.

"Now, remember," you began, tapping your fan against your palm as the two of you strolled past clusters of well dressed ladies.

"You may be broody, but only just enough to be intriguing. If you tip too far into outright scowling, they’ll think you despise them rather than merely possessing an air of dark mystery."

Zayne, walking easily beside you, let out a quiet hum, not in protest, but in pure amusement. "And here I thought my mystery was my most appealing quality."

You shot him a knowing look. "It’s positively dreadful for conversation."

"And yet, you seem to enjoy conversing with me just fine," Zayne pointed out.

“I enjoy a great many things, Doctor. You’re simply fortunate to be one of them.”

It was a lighthearted deflection, meant to turn the conversation back in your favor, but the way Zayne’s gaze lingered made your heart stop for a moment.

Ahem. "You must also ask follow up questions," you continued, scanning the gathering until you spotted a promising group of young women beneath a flowery pergola.

"A woman enjoys speaking about herself, but she’ll think you a great bore if you simply grunt and nod. Make an effort, Dr. Zayne. Feign interest, if you must."

“Then shall I practice with you, Miss Hunter?”

“Me?”

"You seem to have very strong opinions on the matter," he said. "If I were to practice my charm, shouldn’t I know what you find interesting?"

You opened your mouth, but no immediate response came to mind. Again, why was he looking at you like that?

Caleb, who had been chaperoning you a few steps behind, let out an exaggerated groan and threw his hands in the air.

"Are you even trying to meet anyone else?"

Zayne, still entirely at ease, turned his head slightly, just enough to acknowledge Caleb’s presence. "I am here, am I not?"

You ignored them both, pressing forward toward the pergola, where a small gathering of young women stood in a semicircle, chatting beneath the shade. This was the perfect setting, the perfect opportunity, so why did you feel suddenly, inexplicably unsettled?

And then you saw her.

"Ah, Miss Hunter. What a pleasant surprise."

Your mouth felt dry. "Lady Qi," you greeted, keeping your tone as neutral as possible. Formerly Lady Evelyn Xander. Now Lady Evelyn Qi.

She looked past you, taking in Zayne at your side, then Caleb a few steps behind.

"Quite the entourage you have today."

Caleb exhaled a dramatic sigh and acknowledged her with an incline of his head. "Lady Qi."

Evelyn let out a soft chuckle before turning back to you. "Are you enjoying the races?"

You tightened your grip on your fan, willing yourself to focus.

"I can’t quite possibly enjoy the day when there is work to be done," you said lightly, though there was an edge of honesty beneath the jest.

"Ever the dutiful matchmaker, I see.” Evelyn waved a hand gracefully. "My husband was keen on attending, so here I am, though I would much rather be at home away from this dreadful heat."

My husband.

The words were spoken so effortlessly, so naturally, that they should not have affected you at all. And yet, they still served as a reminder of a reality that you could have never had with him.

"Rafayel always did have a taste for grand occasions,” you replied sweetly.

"That he does," she chuckled, oblivious or perhaps not. Her gaze flickered over you, sharp and assessing, before she turned her attention elsewhere.

"Oh! But I’m so glad you came when you did, Miss Hunter," she continued smoothly.

"It’s quite the coincidence, really. I heard you’ve been helping a certain doctor navigate Linkon society, and as luck would have it, I happen to know a young lady who is also looking." She turned slightly, gesturing gracefully.

"May I present to you Miss Diana Carter."

Diana Carter was lovely.

Her dark hair was pulled into an elegant chignon and there was a self-assured grace that suggested she knew exactly how others perceived her but had mastered the art of wielding it to her advantage.

She stepped past you offering Zayne a charming smile. "A pleasure to meet you, Dr. Zayne."

Zayne inclined his head politely, his gaze steady. "Likewise, Miss Carter."

"Diana is a dear friend," Evelyn continued.

"Well read and quite interested in the medical sciences, if I recall correctly." Her eyes flickered between Zayne and Diana with unmistakable purpose. A perfect match, her expression seemed to say.

"I do believe you both would have much to discuss."

You straightened your shoulders, willing your smile to remain effortless. "Well then," you said lightly, "let’s see just how charming our Doctor can be, shall we?"

Zayne shot you a look, one brow raised as if he found your words amusing, but you ignored it.

“I’ll be off," you said, your voice steady despite the strange unease stirring in your chest.

"My brother-in-law, Gods bless him, has impulsively decided to partake in the races. I shall see you later, Dr. Zayne—er, Dr. Li.”

You turned before you could second guess yourself, your fan tightening in your grip. The moment you took a step away, Caleb fell into step beside you.

And yet, for some inexplicable reason, the ground beneath you felt unsteady. You swallowed, forcing yourself to breathe evenly. There was no reason, no reason at all, for the uneasiness creeping through your chest, the sudden weight pressing against your ribs.

You had brought Zayne here for this exact purpose. To meet eligible young women. To find someone who suited him. And Miss Diana Carter suited him. She was beautiful, poised, intelligent—exactly the sort of woman who would compliment him in every way. Exactly the sort of woman he should be drawn to.

So why did it feel as if the air had become too thin?

⟡

You inhaled sharply, shifting your gaze to the water where the rowers were making their final preparations. The river glistened under the afternoon sun, its gentle ripples at odds with the sudden unease pressing against your ribs.

“You’re frowning,” your sister pointed out.

"It’s nothing," you said, adjusting your posture. "I’ve just been experiencing tightness due to my corset."

It wasn’t entirely a lie. The stiff boning pressed insistently against your ribs, but that wasn’t what had your chest aching in a way you couldn’t quite place.

Your sister hummed knowingly, but whether she believed you or not was unclear. "I did warn you not to have it laced so tightly."

"It isn't too tight," you argued, even as you shifted uncomfortably.

The starting horn sounded, and the crowd erupted in cheers. Rowers strained their muscles under the sun as they surged forward. A sharp cry rose from the banks as one boat veered too close to another, its occupants scrambling to correct course before they lost precious seconds.

You joined in, clapping along with the rest of them, willing yourself to be swept up in the excitement.

And yet the tightness in your chest remained.

You told yourself it was your corset.

And if you kept telling yourself that, perhaps you would believe it.

The excitement from the boat race buzzed through the air. A few yards away, spectators were still clapping and calling out congratulations as the rowers made their way back onto shore. And at the center of it all, grinning like a man who had defied fate itself, was Sylus.

He stood victorious on the riverbank, drenched from head to toe, his hair plastered to his forehead, and his shirt clinging to him in a way that mortified your sister. From this distance, Zayne could see your family gathered around Sylus, their faces alight with pride and celebration.

"Dr. Li?"

"My apologies," he said smoothly, forcing his attention back to his companion. "You were saying?"

"Only that I find medicine to be a rather fascinating subject."

"And what is it about medicine that fascinates you, Miss Carter?"

"The intricacies of it, I suppose. How the body is both fragile and resilient all at once. My father has quite the library on the subject. I've read most of his books on anatomy."

Zayne's brow lifted faintly. That was not the sort of answer he had expected.

"You've read on anatomy?"

"Is that so surprising?" Her dark eyes sparkled with amusement.

"Only that most ladies I know would find such books rather...clinical."

"I find them practical. There’s a comfort in understanding how things work, don’t you think?"

Zayne's lips twitched despite himself. Practical. A word he had always valued. A word he had always found reassuring. And yet, her answer did nothing to ease the inexplicable tightness in his chest.

Diana Carter was precisely the kind of woman he ought to be courting. Composed, with a beauty that would have turned heads in any drawing room. If he had met her under different circumstances, he might have genuinely enjoyed this promenade.

Despite his best efforts, his gaze drifted, once again, across the pond, where the soft hum of conversation and laughter floated through the air. He caught a glimpse of you, standing beneath the shade of a willow tree, your fingers absently tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. It was an unremarkable gesture, one you must have done countless times before, and yet—

He looked away quickly, but not quickly enough.

"You seem distracted, Dr. Li," Diana observed lightly.

Zayne’s gaze snapped back to her, his posture stiffening. For a moment, he was certain she had caught him staring, certain she could see straight through him.

He knew better than to let his attention drift. You had reminded him, more than once that presence mattered, that eye contact and genuine engagement were the keys to making an impression.

“No one likes a man who appears disinterested, Dr. Zayne. Even if you are brooding, you must at least be brooding with intent.”

"My apologies," he said again, his voice steady. "It’s the heat, I expect."

"Perhaps a respite from the sun is in order, then," she suggested.

"My mother often hosts small gatherings at our estate. Nothing as grand as this, of course, but I daresay a cup of tea and a shaded veranda would be far more agreeable than enduring this dreadful afternoon heat."

It was an invitation. One that any man with sense would accept.

It wasn’t as if he had any other engagement. It wasn’t as if he had any reason to refuse. This was precisely why he had come today, to meet an eligible young woman, to entertain the very idea of courtship. To prove that he was capable of doing so.

"That is generous of you, Miss Carter," he said at last, his words carefully measured.

"I would be honored."

Across the pond, you caught sight of Zayne and Diana, promenading at an easy, unhurried pace. The sunlight filtered through the canopy of trees, making the world around them seem otherworldly. They looked comfortable together.

Zayne, walked beside her, listening attentively, and you can tell he was engaging based off of Diana’s reactions. It was everything you had wanted for him, everything you had planned.

A slow breath left your lips. You were proud of this. It was, after all, one of your greatest achievements to date. Hadn’t you orchestrated this from the start? Hadn’t you taken Zayne under your wing, guiding him through Linkon society so he might find a match precisely like Miss Carter?

And perhaps, perhaps you could give Evelyn Qi some credit for her introduction, though you’d rather not.

This was the logical conclusion of all your efforts. The payday was to be immaculate, your reputation as the greatest matchmaker in all of Linkon would spread, and you would graciously accept your accolades with a modest smile. Future generations would tell tales of your legendary ability to pair the most impossible of spinsters. A lifetime of smug satisfaction awaited—

Oh.

Why did it suddenly feel as though the air had been squeezed from your lungs?

The pain had started the moment you stepped away from the pergola. It was irrational and inexplicable, a quiet but insistent ache you couldn't name. You rolled your shoulders, as if the movement might shake off the sensation. It was the weather, surely. The heat. The wretched afternoon sun.

"Are you unwell?" your sister asked, as soon she caught sight of the way your fingers trembled against your bodice.

"Just a touch of discomfort," you reassured her, forcing a steady breath. "It’s nothing serious.”

Still, you could see the doubt in her eyes, the way her lips pressed together in a firm line. You had never been the fragile sort, nor one to complain of ailments without reason.

"There’s no sense in you lingering if you’re not feeling well," your sister said firmly. "I’ll have Sylus fetch the footman and have them bring the carriage around."

You opened your mouth to protest, to insist that you were more than capable of enduring the rest of the afternoon, but the words faltered. The excitement of the boat race suddenly felt distant, like you were standing behind some invisible barrier, watching it unfold rather than being a part of it.

Reluctantly, you nodded, lifting your skirts as you stepped away from the shaded picnic area toward the waiting carriage. With each step, a strange sort of exhaustion settled over you, as if the very act of walking was more effort than it should have been.

Zayne sat in the sitting room of the Carter Estate, his fingers resting lightly on the delicate porcelain cup before him. Mrs. Carter, seated across from him, observed him with polite curiosity, her sharp eyes missing nothing.

"It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Dr. Li," she said, stirring a lump of sugar into her tea.

"The pleasure is mine, Mrs. Carter. Your home is…exquisite.”

Mrs. Carter hummed, clearly measuring the sincerity of his words.

“Don’t overdo it,” you had instructed. “A well-placed compliment, a touch of charm, but never flattery for flattery’s sake. The moment they sense you’re pandering, you’re done for.”

"I imagine it must be the envy of many,” he continued.

Mrs. Carter sniffed, clearly pleased. "We do take pride in maintaining a certain standard."

"When in doubt, appeal to their sense of status. Mamas like to believe they’ve built something worth admiring. Recognize that, and they’ll be much more inclined to approve of you."

Mrs. Carter continued, "I understand you have traveled quite a bit. Medicine must keep you rather busy."

"It does," Zayne admitted, setting his cup down.

"Chansia, in particular, was fascinating—so much to learn from their medical practices. Their use of herbal remedies alongside surgical techniques is something I hope to integrate into—"

He stopped himself just in time.

"Never let them think you are too busy for their daughters," your voice echoed in his mind, teasing yet firm. "A man too devoted to his work is a man who will neglect his wife."

Zayne cleared his throat, smoothly shifting gears. "But I’ve always found time for good company." He glanced at Diana with an easy smile.

"After all, what is life without moments of leisure?"

Mrs. Carter’s expression softened just a fraction and for a moment, he allowed himself to revel in the small victory.

Then, the door opened.

A footman stepped inside, bowing slightly before addressing them. "Doctor Li, Mr. Xia has arrived with urgent news."

Zayne barely had time to process the words before Caleb appeared behind the servant, his usual carefree demeanor replaced with something bordering on urgency.

"Zayne!"

He turned sharply at the sound of his name.

"Y/N isn’t well," Caleb said, breathless.

The cup in Zayne’s hand stilled, and his pulse quickened. His mind raced ahead, already picturing the worst.

"Excuse me," he said curtly.

Without a second thought, Zayne strode past them to the waiting carriage, all thoughts of charming Mrs. Carter forgotten.

"How bad is it?" His tone was tinged with something Caleb rarely heard from him—genuine concern.

Caleb hesitated, waving a vague hand. "Oh, well, she said it wasn’t serious, but she looked rather pale, for all we know she could be on death’s door—"

Zayne didn’t wait for the reassurance. He was already shutting the carriage door. Fine or not, he needed to see you for himself.

By the time he arrived at the Hunter estate, his mind had already conjured the worst possible scenarios. He barely waited for the footman to announce him before striding inside.

"Where is she?" he asked, his voice clipped with urgency.

A maid blinked up at him, startled. "Miss Y/N? She’s in the drawing room, Doctor. Shall I—"

Zayne didn’t wait. He was already moving.

But when he stepped into the parlor, expecting to find you pale and frail, perhaps even draped dramatically across a chaise in some near-fainting state, what he found instead was…

You.

Perfectly upright. Reclining comfortably with a book in hand, looking for all the world as if you hadn’t just been dying an hour ago. A tea service sat on the table beside you, steam curling gently from the delicate porcelain cup.

Zayne’s jaw tightened.

You looked up at his arrival, blinking as if surprised to see him. "Zayne?"

"Miss Hunter," he greeted flatly, arms crossed. His gaze swept over you, taking in your relaxed posture, the untouched plate of pastries, the distinct lack of impending doom.

"You seem…remarkably well for someone allegedly suffering from chest pains."

You were confused. Yes, you were experiencing chest pains, but you didn’t appreciate the accusatory tone in his voice.

"I was unwell," you said, sitting up straighter. "But a moment of rest, and I’m quite recovered."

"Recovered," Zayne repeated dryly.

"Forgive me for the misunderstanding. Caleb made it sound as though you were at death’s door. I thought I was rushing to your bedside, not intruding on tea."

"That menace.”

Muttering curses at Caleb under your breath, you barely noticed Zayne step closer, until he knelt beside you without a word, his fingers brushing your wrist, pressing gently against your skin. Your breath hitched.

"You don't need to—"

"Be still," he interrupted, his voice softer now, more like a request than a command. His thumb moved in slow, methodical circles as he counted your pulse, his brows furrowing slightly in concentration.

"I'm not dying, you know," you pointed out.

"No," he agreed. "But humor me."

Your heart was beating perfectly fine, perhaps a little quicker now that his hand was still wrapped around yours, but that was neither here nor there. After a moment, he seemed satisfied, releasing you with a quiet hum.

"Your pulse is steady. Did you experience other symptoms?”

Your lips parted, but for a second, you forgot what you were going to say. Zayne was close, closer than he had any reason to be. The afternoon light cast a soft glow over his sharp features, highlighting the curve of his cheekbone, the green of his eyes that seemed to search for something unseen. His fingers, warm and sure, lingered just a moment longer than necessary against your wrist before he finally released you.

Your heart fluttered.

You cleared your throat, trying to steady yourself. “It was just a bit of tightness in my chest,” you admitted.

“I did feel like I was on uneven ground.”

Zayne nodded, listening intently.

“When did these symptoms begin?”

You were not going to tell him the tightness in your chest had started the moment you left him with Diana Carter. That would be mortifying. Unacceptable. A completely ridiculous thing to admit.

“Well,” you began carefully, lifting your teacup with studied ease. “It’s difficult to say. Perhaps when I was with my sister, although the weather certainly didn’t help…”

You trailed off, suddenly hyper aware of how closely he was watching you. He was not just listening, but truly paying attention. His posture was composed yet open, his expression unreadable save for the faint crease in his brow.

Had he always looked at you like this?

And then it struck you. This was all the etiquette you had painstakingly drilled into him. The art of attentiveness, the careful balance of presence without intrusion. Every lesson, every refinement of social grace, now seamlessly woven into his demeanor.

Yet somehow, it felt…different. It was intimate.

Zayne exhaled, his sharp gaze assessing you one last time before leaning back slightly. “It doesn’t seem serious. I’d prescribe rest,” he said firmly.

“And if the pain persists, you’ll let me know.”

You hummed, lifting your teacup to your lips. “Doctor’s orders?”

“Precisely.”

A comfortable silence settled between you, broken only when you tilted your head, watching him with quiet curiosity.

“How was your promenade with Miss Carter?”

“She invited me for tea.” He hesitated, his gaze dropping briefly before flicking back to yours.

You hummed, keeping your expression carefully neutral. “And yet, here you are. How fortunate for me.”

It wasn’t, really. Or maybe it was, but you didn’t particularly feel like acknowledging the thought of him accepting her invitation.

Zayne smirked. “Yes, well I was in the middle of charming her mother, but I swore an oath as a physician to prioritize my patient’s well being. Besides,” He reached for a macaron, “it would be a terrible waste to leave these unattended.”

You scoffed, plucking a pastry from the tray. “How very selfless of you.”

“I do my best.”

Rolling your eyes, you took a bite before adding, “You realize, of course, that you now owe Miss Carter an apology for abandoning her.”

Zayne made a vague noise of acknowledgement, though his attention remained fixed on the spread before him rather than the prospect of penning an apology.

“Zayne.”

He glanced up, expression utterly unrepentant. “I’ll do it later.”

“You will write to her.”

“Of course.” He took another bite, chewing thoughtfully before adding, “Eventually.”

⟡

“I see you’ve been spending quite a bit of time with Miss Hunter,” Caleb remarked, chalking the tip of his cue stick before lining up his next shot.

He had grown curious, given Zayne’s frequent visits to your home over the past few weeks since your supposed health scare. For a man who had always preferred solitude, Zayne now seemed unusually preoccupied with your wellbeing, checking in, ensuring you were resting properly, lingering even when there was no real reason to stay.

“I noticed you have a rather impractical weakness, Dr. Zayne.” You tapped a finger against the table as you watched him pick up another card.

Zayne raised a brow, selecting his next move with careful precision. “Do I?”

“Indeed. You have an undeniable penchant for sweets.”

“That is hardly a weakness.”

“Perhaps not in the medical sense, but it is rather unbecoming for a man of your supposed discipline.” You gestured toward the plate of biscuits beside him.

“I have seen you reach for those at least three times.”

He picked one up without breaking eye contact. “Four,” he corrected before taking a bite.

You smirked, shifting a card between your fingers. “A man of science you may be, but if a lady believes you to be as sweet as the confections you so adore, she may be more inclined to consider you as a suitor.”

“So you believe an excess of sugar may enhance my marital prospects?”

“Precisely.” You placed a card down with confidence.

“A bit of sweetness never hurt anyone.”

“And what of you, Miss Hunter?” He leaned in, plucking a card from the pile.

“Are you likewise swayed by sweetness?”

You swallowed, fingers tightening ever so slightly around your own hand of cards. “I suppose I do not mind it. Though, truthfully, I much prefer sincerity to sweetness. Sweets are fleeting. Sincerity however, lingers.”

As if drawn forward by an unseen force, he shifted closer. Just slightly at first with his forearms resting on the table. His fingers toyed idly with a card but his eyes never left yours.

“In your expert opinion as a matchmaker, Miss Hunter, would you say that my affections are merely confectionary…or something more enduring?”

Your pulse quickened as Zayne’s gaze flickered downward, perhaps to your lips, or to the card still between your fingers. Without thinking, you leaned in as well, only enough to test the boundaries of his bluff. His lips parted as if he might say something, but he didn’t.

“I suppose I shall have to keep playing to find out.”

“She needs consistent monitoring. Symptoms of the heart can be unpredictable,” Zayne replied, carefully angling his cue.

He took his shot, the ball striking with precision, but Caleb, ever persistent, was not so easily shaken.

“I suppose that’s why you’ve spent more time with her than entertaining potential matches. A Miss Diana Carter, perhaps?”

Zayne’s jaw tightened. He had, in fact, spent several afternoons at the Carter estate, dutifully fulfilling the social obligations expected of a man in his position. Diana was charming, intelligent, and had a sharp wit that could keep up with him, yet—he hesitated.

“If you’re implying something, Caleb, I assure you, your efforts are wasted.”

“Of course, of course,” Caleb drawled, his smirk deepening.

“I’d never dare suggest that the esteemed Dr. Zayne Li is growing fond of a certain matchmaking lady.”

Zayne turned his attention back to the game, ignoring him but Caleb didn’t miss the telltale pink dusting the tips of his ears.

“You know,” he continued, his tone almost idle, “she was courted once.”

Zayne’s grip on his cue stick tightened, his knuckles going briefly taut before he forced them to relax. He tilted his head slightly, feigning mild curiosity.

“Is that so?”

“Lord Rafayel Qi,” Caleb supplied, taking his shot.

The billiard balls scattered with a sharp crack, but he took his time straightening, watching Zayne’s reaction. A flicker of something passed over his face. Annoyance? Interest? Perhaps both.

“Shame, really,” Caleb went on, retrieving his glass and swirling the amber liquid inside. “They were quite taken with each other.”

He took a slow sip, letting the words settle as Zayne lined up his next shot. Caleb didn’t need to see his face to know he had struck a nerve, from the slight flex of his fingers to the subtle tightening of his jaw.

“He did not marry her?”

Caleb smirked behind his glass.

“No,” he drawled. “Rafayel’s family had matched him with Lady Evelyn Xander.”

The colonel sighed, shaking his head. “A tragedy, really. A man letting duty dictate his course. A noble sacrifice, some might say.”

Zayne didn’t respond. He took his next shot with just a bit too much force, the cue ball ricocheting hard off the edge.

“I hear the Qi’s will be hosting pall mall on their grounds in a few days,” Caleb remarked, idly spinning his cue stick between his fingers.

“Will you be inviting Miss Carter?”

Zayne made a vague noise of acknowledgement but said nothing. His focus had drifted elsewhere.

“Or,” Caleb continued, watching him closely, “perhaps Miss Hunter would be the more suitable choice? She’s quite ruthless.”

The Qi estate and its sprawling grounds stretch as far as the eye could see. Bursts of vibrant flora painted the landscape in splashes of color, dotting the numerous pathways and fountains that were hidden about the estate.

Zayne stepped forward, rolling his shoulders back as he aligned himself with the ball. With a smooth and precise swing, he struck the ball cleanly and it sailed through the wicket, drawing murmurs of approval from the onlookers.

You hadn't expected him to be this athletic, but the fluidity of his movements and the quiet confidence in his stance made it clear—he was no stranger to competition.

“With your luck, Dr. Zayne, I’m not worried about losing this match at all,” you grinned.

Zayne smirked and he leaned in just slightly, “I prefer to think of it as skill.”

“Of course, you’re naturally gifted in all that you do.”

“I think my performance speaks for itself,” he teased, eyes gleaming with a playful challenge.

There was something undeniably charming about the way he said it. It was self-assured but not arrogant, teasing but entirely sincere.

You stood beside Zayne, resting your mallet over your shoulder. The day after his billiards game with Caleb, he had arrived at your home with spring in his step.

“I hear you’re quite skilled at pall mall.”

You glanced up from your book, arching a brow. “Did Caleb tell you that?”

Zayne said nothing, but the faint flush on his cheeks was enough. You closed your book slowly, watching him. He was not a man prone to idle conversation or casual invitations, which made his next words all the more intriguing.

“Do you have any plans this Friday afternoon?”

“No. Why?”

His fingers twitched at his side before he clasped them behind his back, as if reining himself in. “Would you care to join me for pall mall?”

A slow smile spread across your lips, excitement bubbling to the surface. Before he could say another word, you were already straightening up.

“Say no more, Doctor,” you replied, brimming with enthusiasm.

As the match continued, you happened to glance across the lawn and spotted a lone figure standing off to the side. Lord Xavier Shen of Philos, with his golden hair and striking blue eyes, looked entirely unbothered by his solitude, though he seemed more likely to drift into a nap than to seek out company.

On a whim, you called out, “Lord Shen, have you any interest in pall mall?”

Xavier blinked slowly, as if processing your words took a considerable effort. Then, after a beat, he ambled forward.

“I suppose it would be an amusing way to pass the time,” he mused, his voice light and unhurried.

Caleb gave you an incredulous look but said nothing as Xavier took his place among your party, accepting a mallet.

Xavier Shen was heralded throughout the ton for his beauty. Despite his delicate stature and tendency to drift off to sleep in the most unexpected places, which often led his mother to fuss over him, there was an undeniable boldness beneath his refined exterior.

With a slow blink, Xavier lined up his shot, looking more like he might nod off than make a proper swing. Then he struck the ball with unexpected force. The resounding crack echoed across the lawn as the ball launched into the air, soaring far past the intended wicket.

A stunned silence fell over the gathering as heads turned, tracking the ball’s trajectory as it disappeared into the distant shrubbery. A faint thunk followed by the startled squawk of a bird confirmed that the ball had, indeed, landed somewhere it absolutely should not have.

“By jove! That was magnificent, Lord Shen!” someone applauded.

“Incredible!” another cheered.

Caleb shot you and Zayne a smug look, rocking back on his heels. “Well, well. It seems I’ve been blessed with a secret weapon.”

For the first time since the match began, victory actually felt within reach. He had expected Xavier to be more of a decorative presence than an asset, but after that display of sheer power, Caleb could practically taste the win in this round.

You grimaced, adjusting your grip on the mallet as you lined up for your turn. “That was well beyond the bounds of fair play!”

Caleb only smirked, but before you could take your shot, the sound of approaching footsteps drew your attention.

“Dr. Li.”

Your shoulders stiffened, grip tightening around the mallet as you turned to see Diana striding toward your party. She was effortlessly composed, as always, her dark hair neatly tucked beneath her bonnet, a parasol resting elegantly in her hand. She looked as if she had stepped out of a world far more dignified than this scrappy game of pall mall.

From the corner of your eye, you caught how Zayne turned fully to greet her, softening just slightly. A small smile tugged at his lips, polite, but warm.

“Miss Carter.”

Something in your chest tightened.

With a sharp exhale, you turned back to line up your shot, pouring every ounce of whatever was churning inside you into a single, decisive swing. You barely had time to register the impact before the ball went flying, landing completely out of bounds.

“Oh, fuck me,” you hissed.

Caleb let out a bark of laughter. “Well, that’s one way to show off.”

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face, but Xavier only let out an impressed whistle.

“You’ve made the game much more interesting, Miss Hunter.”

You shot him a dry look. “You flatter me, my lord.”

“Only when deserved,” Xavier replied smoothly, inclining his head. “Shall we?”

Zayne, still lingering behind with Diana, observed as you effortlessly fell into step with Lord Shen, the two of you exchanging lighthearted words while making your way to the next wicket.

It was, in truth, rather unfair how instinctively you understood others, how effortlessly you commanded attention without the slightest attempt. Conversation seemed to come to you as easily as breathing, as though you belonged everywhere and nowhere all at once.

And yet, for some reason, it bothered him more than it should.

“Doctor,” Diana drew him from his thoughts. “I must introduce you to Lord Rafayel Qi. I’m sure he’ll be pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Zayne stilled, his brow furrowing slightly at the name.

Lord Rafayel Qi. The man who once held your heart. Caleb had mentioned him once before, but now, the prospect of finally meeting him stirred something unexpectedly sharp in his chest.

What kind of man had once held your affections? What did he have that had drawn you in so completely?

Before Zayne could so much as nod, she whisked him forward. You barely registered Xavier speaking at your side, your attention fixed on Diana leading Zayne toward Rafayel, her arm still linked with his, drawing him seamlessly into her world.

Rafayel stood tall, every bit the man you had once loved, his presence commanding and impossible to ignore. Dressed impeccably, he guided his wife with a hand resting lightly at the small of her back. Evelyn, for her part, maintained her cool composure as she greeted acquaintances and guests.

She was beaming as she made the introductions, her enthusiasm unyielding. Zayne, composed as ever, offered a polite nod in greeting, his expression unreadable as he met your former paramour’s gaze.

And for some reason, it bothered you.

But it shouldn’t. This was the role you were meant to play, to ensure that Zayne, Diana, and all the unmarried of Linkon society, found their happiness.

Yet that same sharp feeling took root in your chest, the same one that had nearly consumed you at the boat races. It crept in, settling deep in the hollow of your ribs. Your fingers curled against the fabric of your skirts, grasping for an anchor, but the world beneath your feet felt unsteady.

Xavier’s eyes narrowed with concern as you clutched your chest. “Miss Hunter?”

“If you’ll excuse me, my lord,” you forced a small smile as you turned, but before you could step away, he moved slightly closer, lowering his voice.

“Are you quite well? Perhaps I should escort you—”

“No,” you interjected quickly. The tightness in your chest sharpened, but you swallowed it down, inhaling sharply, willing the ache to subside.

“I’ll be fine,” you insisted, though the words felt empty even to you.

“Truly.”

⟡

As the weeks passed, Zayne saw you less.

At first, it was easy to dismiss. You were busy, preoccupied with your work. This was, after all, the height of the season. It made sense that you would be swept up in a whirlwind of events and introductions. And yet, as your absence stretched on, something settled uneasily in his chest, a quiet, creeping feeling he dared not name.

“You haven’t insulted me once since I sat down. I’m growing concerned,” Caleb said, feigning heartbreak as he lounged in the chair opposite Zayne.

Zayne barely glanced up, stirring his tea absentmindedly. “Must you always assume the worst?”

“When it comes to you? Yes.”

Caleb studied him for a long moment, his gaze narrowing slightly, as though piecing together a puzzle he’d been turning over in his mind. After a few seconds of silence, he leaned back in his chair, the faintest smile playing at his lips.

“You’re dissociating. And I can’t help but wonder if it has something to do with a certain matchmaker.”

The sudden flush of color in Zayne’s cheeks was all the confirmation Caleb needed. He exhaled sharply, setting his spoon down with a quiet clink.

“That is ridiculous.”

“Is it?” Caleb mused, arching a brow. “I must say, your visits to her home have been less frequent these days. Perhaps it has something to do with Y/N being sent away?”

Zayne froze, his entire body going stiff.

“Sent away?”

Caleb hesitated, suddenly realizing his mistake. “It’s not—” He cleared his throat, shifting in his seat.

“It’s not as dire as you seem to think. Her family physician insisted she stay with her sister.”

His stomach twisted. He had been careful, so careful, to keep his distance. To remind himself that you were a professional connection, nothing more. And yet, the idea that you had been unwell, that you had been sent away, alone, without him even knowing, left a bitter taste in his mouth.

“She was ill and no one thought to tell me?”

Caleb shifted uncomfortably. “It wasn’t—”

“Wasn’t what?” Zayne snapped. “Any of my concern?”

Caleb exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face. “Zayne—” He stopped himself, reconsidering his next words.

“Are you not about to move forward with formally courting Diana Carter?”

Zayne didn’t respond right away.

He should have nodded, should have sighed in that resigned way men did when discussing matters of duty. He should have confirmed that yes, of course, he was prepared to court Diana Carter formally.

It was expected after all, given all of the time you’ve spent tutoring him just so that he could charm Diana and her family. But instead of thinking about Diana Carter, all Zayne could picture was you.

Were you being tended to? Was someone there to care for you, to ease whatever ailment had sent you away? His attention snapped back to Caleb as he noticed the pause in the conversation.

Caleb’s brow furrowed, his fingers nervously tapping on his glass, his eyes avoiding Zayne’s gaze.

Zayne’s impatience grew. "Where is she? Where was she sent?"

Caleb shifted uncomfortably, clearly reluctant to answer, but Zayne wasn’t giving him an option.

“Does it matter? She’s taking time for herself. Which, frankly, she deserves.”

“Caleb.”

Zayne could feel his patience fraying.

Caleb groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “You’re impossible, you know that?” He muttered something under his breath before finally revealing your location.

“Whitesand Bay.”

That night, you rushed home, your heart pounding, not from exertion, but from something far more insidious. A tight, unrelenting pain had you clenching your chest, while your fingers tingled uselessly at your sides. You tried to steady yourself, but your legs wobbled beneath you.

Your mother noticed first. The moment she saw you gripping the doorway for balance, your breath coming in short, shallow gasps, she was at your side, calling for the servants, demanding water, a chair, anything to steady you.

Which was how you found yourself subjected to Dr. Ulysses’ diagnosis of emotional duress.

A statement that, of course, sent your parents into a flurry of panic.

“What does that mean?” your mother cried. “Is she dying?”

“It means,” he said, with the patience of a weary saint, “that she requires a change of scenery. I suggest she take residence with your other daughter at once.”

And so, you had been unceremoniously sent off to your sister’s estate in Whitesand Bay, where the seaside was supposed to heal whatever affliction had taken hold of you.

Yet, despite the distance, the whispers of the ton still found their way to you. You tried to ignore them, retreating into the quiet of your own mind, willing the words away as if sheer force alone could make them untrue.

"Dr. Li is planning to return to Bloomshore! And Miss Carter has been seen in his company so often. Surely she’ll be going with him?"

"It’s only natural that a proposal would follow!"

And now, here you were, lying motionless on the floor of your sister’s drawing room, staring blankly at the ceiling, mourning a fate that had not yet come to pass, but one that felt inevitable.

“What are you doing?”

“Wasting away.”

“Care for a pillow?” Sylus chimed in from the doorway. Your sister shot her husband a withering glare before turning back to you.

“You cannot possibly lie there forever.”

“Dr. Ulysses recommended I take residence here and I am doing just that.”

She sighed, moving to sit on the settee beside you. “For someone who insists on matchmaking others, you are alarmingly terrible at managing your own affairs.”

You had always maintained a fine line between yourself and your clients. It was strictly professional, nothing more. You had spent years matchmaking, priding yourself on identifying the subtlest signs of romantic inclination in others.

But now?

Now you were beginning to question your own sanity.

Perhaps it was the relentless pressure of your work and the constant need to anticipate emotions before they were even felt.

Perhaps it was exhaustion, making you see things that weren’t there. That had to be it.

And yet, despite the demands of your job, at the center of all these expectations and obligations was a certain doctor.

He was intelligent, perceptive, and shy, not cold, as so many wrongly assumed. He was measured and thoughtful, with a dry wit that caught you off guard and lingered long after a conversation had ended.

Perhaps you had grown accustomed to his attention. To the way his gaze always seemed to seek yours in a crowded room. You had spent so much time considering who would be a good match for him that you had never stopped to consider what it might feel like to watch him be matched.

“If you’re so keen on finding something to do,” Sylus remarked, far too amused for your liking, “perhaps responding to a letter from Lord Shen may be in order.”

You sat up, furrowing your brow. “Xavier?”

The maid approached, placing the letter in Sylus’s hand before you rose up from the depths of the floor and snatched it from him. Ignoring his protest, you unfolded the letter and began to read aloud:

Dear Miss Hunter,

I hope this letter finds you in better health.

My mother, by way of your mother, has informed me that you are recuperating in Whitesand Bay. I imagine the sea air must be a welcome change, though I confess, I have never spent much time by the coast myself.

I will be passing through Whitesand Bay on my way to Philos to visit my grandfather. Is it true that the seafood is as remarkable as people claim? I have heard outrageous tales of oysters the size of one’s head.

Wishing you a swift recovery.

“You’ve made a little friend,” Sylus cooed.

You shot him a look, tucking Xavier’s letter against your palm. “I simply invited him to join our party at pall mall. The man was standing off to the side on his own.”

“One would suspect they were avoiding him for a reason. Perhaps they fear his mother’s wrath,” your sister quipped.

“Lady Miranda of Philos could strike fear into anyone’s heart.”

You hummed, considering the thought. Xavier’s mother was indeed an imposing woman, it was no wonder her son found himself on the fringes of society, few were willing to risk her displeasure.

You hesitated, fingers grazing the edges of the letter. “I suppose I will write to him,” you admitted.

“It was kind of him to reach out.”

As you returned to your room with Xavier’s letter in hand, you sat at your writing desk and smoothed out a fresh sheet of parchment. But as you dipped your pen into the inkwell, another thought crept in, unbidden.

Zayne.

You froze for a moment, your hand hovering above the parchment. It was for the best that you didn’t entertain such notions. He was a busy man bound to his job and future bride. And you...you were merely his matchmaker. A professional connection. Nothing more.

With a steady hand, you began writing, but the weight of Zayne’s presence lingered in your chest.

Part 2

#zayne x reader #zayne love and deepspace #lads zayne x reader #regency au #love and deepspace x reader #l&ds x reader #lads x reader #love and deepspace #lads zayne #li shen #lads #lnds zayne #Zayne #zayne fluff #idiots to lovers

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cntloup · 1 year ago

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Mafia!Simon x Bartender!Reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

You've been working here for ages, in this once rusty old bar which is now adorned by lively colors and music, turned into the best nightclub in the city, serving the best drinks and entertainments with the most beautiful dancers.

All in all, you have witnessed the worst and the best of this place.

And you have come to know the people who own the place.

In fact, you know them like the back of your hand, even better than themselves one might say.

You're bright and perceptive, and working as a bartender in a place like this where it is jam-packed with important people all the time has its own perks.

With a little bit of booze and honeyed words you bring out everyone’s hidden side and in no time, they’re spilling their deepest darkest secrets to who seems like just a sweet, harmless bartender.

“Here you go.” you say to Simon, placing his usual Kentucky Bourbon on the counter, “Thanks, dove.” he says and brings the glass to his lips.

“You know... I say don’t fuck around with the Russians!” you remark while drying the cups and placing them on the shelves.

They asked your opinion on the matter since you’re their most trusted ally outside the group. As a matter of fact, they consider you part of the group by now.

He chuckles before saying “That’s what I told Price.”

“So why is he doing this?” you ask regarding cutting a deal with the Russians and Simon shrugs.

You’ve had a weird feeling about it since they mentioned it to you.

“Well, if any of you care about my opinion, don’t do it. It just doesn’t feel right to me.” you say with a shrug and look over to find him deep in thought, eyebrows furrowed and gorgeous brown eyes focused on somewhere far away.

Gods, he’s so handsome! You've been fond of him for some time now, and by the looks and little touches he gives you, you’d say the feeling is somewhat mutual.

Out of all of them, he’s always been the closest to you.

And he’s been your biggest protector all throughout this wild ride you’ve been on together.

He always keeps an eye on you in case any of the customers gets too close and makes you uncomfortable; God forbid if any of them gets touchy, they’d be digging their own grave by doing that.

You come back from your daydreams after hearing him clear his throat.

You notice you’ve been staring far too long, choosing to ignore the faint smirk on his lips.

“Sorry... just thinking about the deal.” you lie and dip your head, busying yourself with cleaning the cups and hoping he won’t notice your burning cheeks.

“Well, I'm off to meet John now. I'll make sure to give him your opinion too.” he says while standing from his chair, “Thanks for the drink.” he offers a small smile with a nod.

“You’re welcome, Si... and I'm sure he won’t listen to me. His mind is set on the idea and that’s that. Not that I would ever question his decisions. I have too much respect for the man to do that. He must know something that we don’t.” you mention while grabbing his glass and placing it in the sink.

“I can assure you that he values your opinion just as much as you do his. He'll think about it. Don't worry.” he says while gathering his stuff and placing your tip on the counter, a hefty envelope, so generous as always.

“Simon! I can’t accept this! This is... too much! You do this every time!” you exclaim with a frown, nudging the envelope in his direction.

“Take it. I insist. You can renovate your apartment. Last time I was there, it was a bloody mess!” he teases with a playful smirk.

“HEY!” you say in mock annoyance while throwing the rag in your hand at him.

“My apartment is fine as it is, thank you very much!” you retort, failing to hide the smile forming on your lips.

You take the envelope hesitantly after so much persuasion on his part and wave him goodbye, feeling butterflies dance in your belly as thoughts of him linger in your mind.

You dip your head and go on with what you were doing, lost in your own world and not noticing the dark shadow lurking in the distance and standing in a corner, carefully observing the place, and most importantly... you.

#simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #cod x reader #ghost x reader #cod fanfic #ghost cod #cod ghost #ghost call of duty #call of duty #cod mw2 #cod #mw2 #cod modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty x reader

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theastrohub · 8 months ago

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friendship synastry 👯‍♀️

@astrobaeza observations vol. 3

in conversations and the use of synastry, it’s often associated with romantic relationships. however, while love is a central theme in life, friendship is equally, if not more, significant. after all, the strongest relationships often begin as friendships or platonic connections. even though you don’t typically consider astrology when forming organic friendships, examining your friends' charts alongside your own can offer insights into how you can better complement each other's lives.

*disclaimer: these are my opinions. if you have a different take, share them in the comments please and thank youu.

to compliment this post, I am now offering friendship synastry readings for $40! this service will provide you an outline of the compatibility between you and (1) friendship of your choice, karmic aspects, the purpose of the relationship and how to strengthen your bonds and be a better friend. PM me for a sample reading, only 5 slots are open for right now!

here are some observations I had:

彡 their planets in your 1st house 一 love at first sight. first house synastry amongst friends is like the friend you made your first day of junior high and became the godparent to your child since you are that locked in. I say love at first sight because much like it, you guys were probably very drawn to each other immediately and maybe became inseparable. this makes for a powerful bond where they strengthen your self image and identity, helping you become more confident in self expression. everything flows quite easily whether it be communication, vitality, beauty, and/or harmony. this is one of the best synastry placements in my opinion as it's the most open-ended and the pros outweigh the cons.

彡 their planets in your 2nd house 一 the hype-man / woman friend. the friend who you go to for outfit and makeup opinions, the one you give your haul to when buying new things. the person that can really boost your confidence (and also make you feel really bad about yourself). the friendship is focused on money - making but especially spending it. you guys love to go out to eat, try new things, and be a tad bit boujee together. this is also someone who shapes your mindset as this is probably a friendship on shared values (if it's healthy) - **they have a direct impact on how you feel about yourself. if your self image is unstable, this synastry can be detrimental to your wellbeing so be careful.

彡 their planets in your 3rd house 一 the yappers. there is a mutual love of talking specifically to one another. your minds are on the same page as is your intellect and it makes for a lovely bond on shared interests. according to my poll, most of you guys are mercury-dominant. my mercury-dominant readers, find you a friend you share 3rd house synastry with!! this will make you feel more comfortable in your innate self-expression and have better quality of friendships.

彡 their planets in your 4th house 一 the my friends are my family placement. this friendship dynamic makes for someone who feels very safe with you. the bond, irrespective of what you guys do together, is built on a foundation of trust and reliability. you guys most likely are very close, maybe your families are very close or familiar with one another. you guys spend time at each other's homes hanging out a lot, maybe you have sleepovers. you are familiar with one another's cultures, maybe this is a friendship on shared backgrounds or cultures.

ex 1: lilo and stitch share 4th and 11th synastry. they care for each other like family <3

彡 their planets in your 5th house 一 girls just wanna have fun! you guys do everything together and see each other as the fun friend or the goodtime friend. this can be bad but for the most part the pros outweigh the cons. you lovee each other's company and seek each other out whenever you're about to go do something fun. this is the friendship where you share your dating life with, maybe go out to meet people with or talk about love matters with. you might have more dating options being friends with them. they can show you something you are missing when it comes to matters of casual dating and encourage you to put yourself out there more. this synastry also indicates a relationship where your kids might be very close with them as well, or view them as a prolific " cool aunty/uncle" figure.

彡 their planets in your 6th house 一 workout buddies. you guys most likely workout together, share new diet fads and weight-loss tips together and keep each other healthy. maybe one or both of you are athletic or athletes and you inspire each other to really sweat. there is a lot of wisdom to be shared here in matters of work and routine and they can illuminate something you are missing or aspire to do for your job. this friendship dynamic is centered around being of service in practical matters that will help long term. the friend who either uplevels or diminishes your lifestyle.

彡 their planets in your 7th house 一 the friend who's a significant other. since seventh house synastry in romance is considered ideal for "marriage", this is the friendship that truly fulfills your platonic love languages. when your bf or gf is being annoying, they are right there ready to love on you! just joking, but in its best, this synastry really serves as an example of how you want to be loved in a romantic partnership. this is the friend you talk about deep romantic commitments with and your ideal partner, your relationship problems, and have right by your side when taking that big step in getting married. this friendship is centered around the more serious aspects of life like marriage, if you want to start a business, long-term partnerships. the friend you might trust to do business with or manage your business. friends I've had this synastry with I go to for help with the real stuff. members of the opposite gender that I've had this synastry with I've ended up crushing on or vice versa. at its worst, this can result in a friend who openly dislikes you and may even bully you.

彡 their planets in your 8th house 一 the friend who's damn near a significant other. someone who transforms you, for good or for worse. much like 11th house, they show you how to manage your money and resources and to take pride in them. someone you can trust with heavy stuff, the person you go to when you need to cry or vent. this is the friend that will keep you in check because they really do care about you and your emotional well-being. the friend you talk about your s3x life with or lack theorof -- the friendship where nothing is weird. a negative manifestation is someone who tries to control you and your resources, is way too obsessed with you and overpowers your autonomy. can cross major boundaries without you realizing.

ex2: Blair and Serena share 4th and 8th house synastry. their intense friendship is characterized by major transformations and sharing of ahem resources (men and clothes lol)

彡 their planets in your 9th house 一 philosophical friendship. you guys come from the same religious or spiritual background, have a connection through shared belief systems, may be the friend you met in high-school or university or through some form of formal learning. the friend that traveling with can shape how you view the world or the friend that wants to travel with you. someone who expands or limits your belief system about yourself and the world. you love sharing ideas and having deep conversations with them as they are receptive to these talks.

彡 their planets in your 10th house 一 you achieve new social standings together. they might love being seen with you, love going to important places. they might expand your reputation or lead you to alignment in matters of your career and legacy. on the flipside, they can harm your public reputation. you most likely have similar ambitions and this friendship keeps one another on the straight and narrow. this is a little bit more stale, but good for ambitious individuals. you guys strategize together, plan for the future, and can even build an empire through continuously bouncing ideas off of one another. they are very supportive of your professional ambitions and want to see you accomplish your biggest goals and be there every step of the way.

彡 their planets in your 11th house 一 you achieve goals together. this is for people who value dependable, stable friendships centered around longevity and shared vision for the future. like instead of a power-couple you're a power friendship duo. someone who can help you make money, someone you love socializing specifically networking with, the friend that shows up for you time and time again. the visionary friend that supports your craziest theories and dreams. the friend you introduce to your other friend groups without fear of overlap or not fitting in.

彡 their planets in your 12th house 一 spiritual friendship. they see you for who you are, and who you might not even see yourself to be. they highlight traits that you want to embody more of, and can really almost gentle parent you in new directions. this dynamic can result in a mentor style friendship and can grow into a deep bond that transcends mundane things. I've seen this synastry in friendships where one person guides the other into a new religion or way of living life as a whole. they can heal any wounds to your subconscious mind and help you process anything that's cumbersome mentally. this can be very beautiful, and develop into an unconditional bond, where they are there for you through thick and thin. on the flip side, they can be someone who is elusive and seeks to secretly harm you under the guise of friendship.

pt 2 coming soon.

thank you for reading 💋

@astrobaeza

for more: [ paidservices ₊ masterlist ₊ tips ] // gif by @bffspo + @gossipgirlfanblog

#friendship synastry #astrology observations #astrology notes #astro community #astrology tumblr #astrobaeza #astrobae #astrology #astro notes #astro observations #astrology community #lilo and stitch #serena and blair

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thebluester2020 · 1 month ago

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[SDV] "Kinky"

Summary: He was about 99% certain you'd reject him when he approached you at the saloon one night. When Sam and Abigail had gone home for the night, and it was just the two of you, Sebastian had finally worked up the courage to address the tension between the two of you! One so palpable that he could almost taste it, and you could as well. Which is why...the word 'no' didn't even come close to coming out of your mouth when you agreed to have a one-night stand with the town's local recluse.

Warning(s): Dirty Talking (On the reader's side!), Cowgirl, Sprinkle of Dacryphilia (Pussy so good that Sebastian's reduced to tears), Switch!Sebastian, Switch!Reader, Mutual Masturbation (for a little bit),

Side Note(s): SDV Bachelors having one night stands with the farmer/reader is actually my new favorite trope now 😩

Sorry this didn't come out yesterday y'all, I got roped into a college party last minute—

"Do...you want to have a one-night stand with me?"

He hardly had any other ideas about how to phrase the question to you.

He couldn't be playfully flirty like Sam or have a poetic coyness to his words like Elliot. Hell, he was certain that even Shane would have a better time finding a way to word whether or not someone would like to sleep with him! For Sebastian, however, he was...awkward. Hell, he was hardly able to look you in the eyes after he had popped the question.

Your eyes were wide and your mouth slightly ajar.

The few minutes you took to decide upon your answer were the most grueling few minutes of his entire life. But...when you had said yes?

The poor man nearly choked on his own air, especially when he already had it halfway solidified in his mind that you would tell him to go fuck off with a disgusted look on your face! Yet, the blush that began to rise to your cheeks was unmistakable, and it only continued to grow as you admitted to him that you've been harboring a small thing for him since you both first met.

"So..." You started to say after a minute of silence. "Do you—Do you want to come back to my place?" You suggested.

You giggled at how quickly Sebastian nodded his head, the man even stuttering out a nervous 'Sure' as if he were still trying to come to the fact that this was really happening to him! Not only did you admit to him that you thought he was attractive from the moment you both met, but you were now holding his hand and leading him out of the saloon and back to your farm! He felt like a lost duckling almost...however, it was hard to think about appearances and whatnot when tonight was about to be the night his wet dreams finally came true.

. . .

Thus, that's how both of you ended up where you are now.

On your couch in the living room, playing with each other's sexes while Sebastian's mind swam with just how dirty you were. "F-Fuck..." He mumbled into your mouth as you kissed him, grateful that your eyes were closed while Sebastian's eyes were glued to how your hand massaged and stroked his leaky cock. He was sooo wrong for thinking that you were innocent, all those blushy, nervous looks directed his way whenever he'd look over to you or said a greeting to you had to have been just a show for the masses!

The way you parted from his mouth, a few strings of your spit still connecting the two of you together until it was broken by you lowering your head to his dick to spit on the tip. It was sinful, absolutely filthy. Especially the way you teasingly licked his tip before you rose your head to smash your lips against his once more, your tongue shoving into his mouth before a broken moan left your lips when he gently pinched your aching clit. "Sebastian..." You moaned into his mouth.

He chuckled at how your ministrations on him faltered a little, giving him the confidence he needed to speed up how his fingers danced upon your clit. Sebastian took his lips from yours, bringing them to your ear before he bit down onto your ear lobe. "Feels good?" You could feel the smirk that began to creep onto his lips. Yet, you hardly had any fight in you to try and bite back at the loner as your thighs twitched at how he began to play with your cunt, gathering the slick that oozed from your clenching hole before he'd flick your clit and repeat the process.

"Had I known you would've been this eager to fuck me—" He pressed a kiss to your neck, a soft moan leaving his lips as he inhaled your scent. "—I would've asked you sooner..." You felt yourself heat up at his words, your thighs twitching even more around his hand as even more moans and whines slipped from your lips, the knot in the pit of your stomach beginning to tighten more and more in anticipation of your oncoming release. Sebastian didn't mind how your hand began to slow before stopping completely in its ministrations, the sounds of your sweet moans and cries of his name...begging him to give you more, it made the throbbing ache in his cock all the more bearable as he focused on bringing you to your release, each flick of his finger or him teasingly slipping into your wanton hole before immediately taking it away only serving to somehow drive you closer and closer to your orgasm.

You were so sweet. After all this was done and he had fucked your pussy into the shape of his cock, the thought of taking things further with you...it didn't sound half-bad to the recluse. Your teary eyes looking at him as if he had personally hung the moon and stars in the sky was far too addicting to allow anyone else in this town to try and steal away from him.

"So cute farmer," He chuckled as he brought his face closer to your own. "Y' gonna cum on my fingers?" He continued. "All I'm doing is flicking this needy clit and that's enough to make you like this?" You could only manage a huff before you mustered up enough strength to take his face into your hands before smashing his lips to yours, effectively shutting him up as your tongue slipped between his lips. The delicious groan from Sebastian was enough to finally make you tip over the peak, your hips bucking into Sebastian's hand a few more times before you cried out into his mouth, tears of pleasure slipping down one of your cheeks before you had started to whine from overstimulation.

And thus, Sebastian parted from your mouth, his eyes hazy with need and desire as he stared into your watery orbs for a few seconds more before he finally took his fingers away from your cunt.

He stared at his dripping fingers before he slipped them into his mouth, groaning at your musky taste. "You taste good," Sebastian said.

As you slowly came down from your high, you had just barely caught onto the recluse's words through the slight buzzing in your ears. But...unlike moments before when you were embarrassed and ready to blush at a moment's notice, you only giggled at his words instead as you turned your head to face Sebastian. "Really?" You hummed before you took hold of his wrist and brought his fingers to your mouth.

Sebastian's cock jumped at how you so boldly slipped his fingers into your lips, the feeling of your tongue licking across his digits and sucking them...oh, he could only imagine how your mouth would feel on his cock, doing the exact same thing. But, the time for you to suck him off would have to come later. All he could do was think about how your cunt would feel wrapped around him— "You up for another round?" You asked.

"Are you?" He laughed.

Your mouth left his fingers with a lewd 'pop' before you could offer Sebastian a simple smile. You had gently pushed him to lie down on your couch, giggling at the rather adorable way he gasped in shock. "I am, " you said, doing your best to contain your excitement. "Mostly 'cause...you saw me tear up from how good your fingers felt on my pussy. To thank you, I should do the same, right?"

Without waiting for a definite answer, one that probably wouldn't have come to begin with due to how shocked Sebastian was at how easily you took control of the situation, you lined your cunt up to his rock hard cock, twitching and leaking as if begging for your attention. You giggled. "How ever did you manage to hold out for as long as you did, Sebby?" You chuckled as you grabbed ahold of his cock, a soft moan leaving Sebastian's lips. His breaths grew quicker and quicker as you lowered your cunt to the tip of his dick, the heat of your cunt so close to hisdick nearly driving him insane as he tried to buck up to feel your cunt. One that was met with you quickly taking your pussy away from him as you mockingly laughed at him. "So impatient..." You tsked at him.

"I suppose I have to give you that though, I was pleasure-drunk with how your fingers flicked my clit." Before allowing him to respond, you suddenly sunk your pussy down onto Sebastian to the base. The moan that tore from his throat was something you could easily get addicted to. The softness and neediness of it all filled your entire body with warmth as you leaned your body forward to press gentle kisses to Sebastian's face as a small apology. "Sorrysorrysorry Sebby," You repeated over and over again. "My pussy felt too good for you to handle all of a sudden?"

When Sebastian felt that he was able to look you in the eye, he looked at you with a cute pout. "Ha...ha...j-just wait for a minute—Ah!"

You smirked as you playfully cocked your head to the side, you weren't expecting Sebastian to let out that type of noise. "Oh?" You hummed as you firmly planted your hands onto Sebastian's chest. "What was that? You sounded so cute, Seb!" You praised.

And like before, you interrupted Sebastian with another slam of your hips down onto his abdomen, steadily finding a comfortable rhythm for yourself, one that was able to continue to make your one-night stand continue to cry and sing out for you as cutely as he currently was!

"F-Fuck! Y/N...please...!" He begged as he threw his head back, his hands weakly grabbing at your hips in an attempt to anchor himself. Your pussy felt sooooo good on his dick, each lewd 'plap' or the sticky sounds of your arousal pooling at the base of his cock making his cock twitch and throb inside of your wet cunt. "Feels good?" You said, a mocking copy of his earlier words to you.

"You're so cute when you cry baby...this pussy feel too good for you to hold it in?" You panted to him. Your moan was mixed in with a laugh when you felt Sebastian's cock throb inside of you once more, desperate whines and moans leaving his lips as he felt his orgasm creep on him embarrassingly fast. But, he tried to endure it if it meant that you'd continue to fuck yourself up and down his cock, each movement from you making his head spin and feel as if he were floating closer and closer to heaven— "Don't get too pussy drunk and pass out yet, Seb—fuck...—I like seeing your eyes as I fuck this leaky dick of yours."

You felt your face flush even harder when Sebastian only responded with a needy whine. "C-Can't help it...your pussy feels too good—AH!" You pouted when Sebastian once again let his needy moans and whines interrupt his sentences once more, trails of spit cascading down the sides of his kiss-swollen lips and causing you to tap his cheek a little in an attempt to get him to focus.

"Focus baby..." You punctuated your words with swift kisses to his lips and forehead, licking your lips afterward as if the recluse tasted like a sweet treat. And, in your opinion? He did. With each slam of your hips, adorable 'aht ahts' left his lips as his grip upon your hips tightened more and more in tandem with his cock beginning to throb even more eagerly inside of your cunt. He was close, and you knew it. Yet, as much as you were into it, seeing your one-night stand cry out for you, his glistening spit wetting the sides of his mouth like some cheap toy. You felt yourself closing in on your orgasm as well, the way the veins of his cock glided against your walls, the tip of his cockhead pressing into your spongey g-spot...it felt so good that your head began to spin, your hips beginning to stutter in their movement ever so slightly.

Something that Sebastian managed to notice through the fogginess of his lust. "A-Are you close—Shit...fuckfuckfuck..."

You nodded your head. "C-Close...!" You whined back to him as you allowed your chest to collapse against his. It was then that Sebastian took control, wrapping his arms tightly around your torso before he planted the soles of his feet against the couch, fucking up into you like a man-starved. "Y-Yoba...!" He cried out, his voice ringing through your ears. His eyes lazily opened to look at your face as he chased his high, your eyes threatening to roll into the back of your head as his head immediately tilted into the palm of your hand when you placed it against his face. "Fuck...Y/N..." He continued to pant. "You feel so good! I-I can't get enough of your pussy."

The soft smile you managed to give him before you pressed your lips against his own was what made him finally tumble over the edge. Ropes and ropes of his hot cum flooding your insides to the brim as the feeling made you reach your high as well. The two of you stilled against one another as you relished in your shared highs, you and Sebastian's mixed cum beginning to ooze from your pussy despite his cock still plugging you up.

When both of you finally came down from your highs, you were shocked at how obvious the lovesick look was in Sebastian's eyes. You giggled. "You're so obvious with your looks, Sebby," You teased. "What? My pussy was so good that it's got you falling in love?" You weren't expecting him to nod his head, as much of a shock it was for him to figure out that you were secretly freaky as hell...he wanted more of it, more of your touches and more of your pussy sliding up and down his cock. He wanted more of your kisses as well as the way you looked at him; he couldn't just give this all up!

"Can...can we see each other again?" He asked. "I...reallyyy like you."

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lizzy06 · 9 months ago

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Tamaki Amajiki x Reader Fics Recs!! (Tumblr/Ao3/Wattpad)

My Hero Academia Fic Rec Masterlist

His Sun ✨✨💖by alkhale (oneshot, fluff, humor) "I-I've always thought you're like the sun!" Your laugh hits his ears and you smile, bright and shining. "Is that supposed to be a bad pick-up line, Mr. Suneater?" [COMPLETED]

DoubtPt1 |Part 2| Part 3✨✨💖 by @onyxiana-is-obsessed (soulmate au, fluff) Everyone in the world has a soulmate and Tamaki Amajiki is no different. The thing is, he’s terrified to meet or talk to his soulmate because he’s scared they could a villain. That is… until he’s finally able to talk to you. [COMPLETED]

Roses and Butterflies ✨by @tamabbyboi (oneshot, soulmate au, fluff) Soulmate au! In a world where whatever you write on your skin shows up on that of your soulmate, you and Tamaki fall in love via marker and make the perfect pair. [COMPLETED]

“if you ate pussy does th-” “y/n do no finish that sentence” ✨✨ by @bakugohoex (oneshot, fluff)in which you had been shot by a quirk that makes you say your thoughts aloud, the big three come to class 1a, you’re long time crush and friend tamaki gets made to answer questions and you stupidly raise your hand. [COMPLETED]

silent admirer | tamaki amajiki x reader ✨by madaraxwbu (fluff, angst, smut)what's tamaki to do when he realises that he's falling in love with one of the most popular girls in school? [COMPLETED]

Blissful Contact✨ by feelingthorny (fluff, eventual smut)He was often nervous, sweating, and seconds away from fleeing any conversation, but despite his trouble in social situations, Amajiki found himself pursuing you: the barista who caught his eye, whose quirk lets his body do the talking for him. [COMPLETED]

A Nudge in the Right Direction✨ by Vanya_Instance (fluff, both are shy)If UA had an award for the most nervous, awkward and self-critical student then you and Tamaki would tie for first place. [COMPLETED]

Manifesting Love✨ by Vanya_Instance (oneshot, fluff, humor) Tamaki Amajiki makes the accidental decision to book off Valentines Day. The office is gossiping, the media is in a frenzy. Who's the lucky Valentine? It's no one. Seriously. He just wanted a day off, but when the media are about to eat Pro-Hero Suneater alive, you come in to save the day. [COMPLETED]

Assistant to the Hero ✨by @dira333 /Fogfire (fluff, humor)With three years at the agency under your belt, you’re more than ready to take on one of the bigger sidekicks of Fatgum and you know that you’re capable of assisting Suneater. All you need is a chance. And if the ongoing interviews are any indication, he hasn’t picked his new assistant yet. [COMPLETED]

The Study of Poetry✨ by EntranceToInfinity (oneshot, fluff, humor)A short, sweet story of falling in love with Tamaki- (or, in which you literally stare at him and embarrass yourself) [COMPLETED]

Amajiki/Reader: Blossoming Romance by KawaiiDeku(fluff)Amajiki has a tell when he's in love, one he has trouble hiding. [COMPLETED]

So, Fuck Marry Kill? by insanityrunsinthe_family(college au, fluff, humor, explicit words(?))You came over and sat down with her and your two mutual friends, Togata, and Amajiki, and saw that she was deep in thought. She noticed you and sat up on her knees. “Oh! Oh, (Y/N)! Fuck, Marry, Kill! Amajiki, Togata, and me.” [COMPLETED]

Bon Appétit by EntranceToInfinity(friends to lovers, fluff, humor) Everyone deserves a bit of fun in their lives. And if you get your laughs from watching a dark-haired elf boy eat, is it really so bad? [COMPLETED]

Set Us Up - Amajiki Tamaki x gn! Reader Oneshot by milk_breadx (oneshot, fluff) Mirio and Nejire have been trying to set you and Tamaki up. [COMPLETED]

It's because you're cute by MizPotatoBiscuits (friends to lovers, fluff, smut)Being friends with Nejire got you roped into the big three, becoming friends with them and enjoying their presence. Training hard you end up at the same hero agency as Tamaki Amajiki, the cute socially anxious bean. [COMPLETED]

Dear Fellow Traveler by Katonyx(smut)Getting the Suneater to come out of his shell is definitely an undertaking in itself. But what if a certain purple haired pro hero is just waiting for you to make the first move? [COMPLETED]

butterflies in your stomach✨ by @orphic-osamu (oneshot, soulmate au, fluff, hurt/comfort) whatever scars your s/o gets appear on you as well. [COMPLETED]

a butterfly | tamaki amajiki x reader✨ by madaraxwbu(fluff, smut, angst)what's tamaki to do when he realising he's catching feelings for his hot-headed underclassman? [COMPLETED]

Honey & Chamomile by Pixelwisp(oneshot, friends to lovers, fluff, childhood friends)Tamaki Amajiki gets the soft fluffy love story he deserves. [COMPLETED]

remember me by moegan(onesot, flower shop au, flower language, fluff) Tamaki Amajiki saves a civilian. He doesn’t expect her to buy him coffee and teach him about the wiles of floral culture. [COMPLETED]

Choice Words by Amberzard(oneshot, pure fluff)Reader is a member of UA's class 1-A and is blown away by the introduction of the Big Three (and an ass whooping from Mirio--). However, reader is impressed by Tamaki in particular. After all is said and done, reader rushes to Tamaki to give him a few choice words. [COMPLETED]

Balanced by ScatteredScribbles(oneshot, fluff, humor)The two of you fall into a familiar rhythm. Your hands tangle into his hair while his settle into their usual spot at your waist. For all of your differences, there was no denying that the two of you just fit. [COMPLETED]

of sleepless minds by ActuallyNonsense (collection) a collection of amajiki tamaki x reader oneshots/drabbles ． [COMPLETED]

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our-hextech-dream · 6 months ago

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i haven't seen anyone fully articulate what i personally felt disappointed by wrt viktor's s2 persona and ending so i guess i have to do it myself even tho i'm bad at talking!! can someone who is better at this just read my mind and say it fancier and more coherently?

agency, the loss of

i have seen people already mention the way disability came into play at the end and what a wild choice it was for jayce - born able-bodied and healthy - to be the one to tell viktor - trapped in a body that was actively killing him - that actually your disability is a part of you and made you who you are and you owe everything to it. ... huh? jayce (by which i mean the writers), do you think without his disability, viktor wouldn't have still been a genius? yes, viktor is disabled - that's not even remotely what makes him a compelling character and power player. it is his mind not his body that makes him who he is. the fact that he had to waste almost his whole life fighting against that body to achieve anything is the entire crux of his frustration - imagine what he could have dedicated his mind to if he weren't constantly struggling to find a way just to survive another year, another month, another week, one more day. have you thought about it? because he has. so yeah that whole conversation, trash. bruno mars just the way you are ass one direction that's what makes you beautiful ass argument. viktor was not going crazy over cosmetic surgery, he was trying not to die.

but it strikes me as just one more expression of an overarching theme for s2 viktor - that of the complete and total loss of his agency. (more on a meta level than in the show itself, but also in the show!) i said after act 1 that viktor had died in that explosion and jayce was going to be chasing that corpse until the end, and i was correct. viktor bounced from one mindset to another, never seeming to have any consistent ideology of his own that couldn't be changed as soon as the plot demanded it. at any given point he was just kinda... wandering around, doing some random shit with the powers that worked through him. gone was the viktor who used his own hands and mind to influence the world directly, to bend it to his will. i always always felt this and i stand by it - taking viktor's abilities as an inventor and scientist away and turning him into some arcane mage jesus figure was a mistake and a disservice to his character. arcane said no this boy wasn't smart or determined, his ability to build and invent and seek and learn don't matter and never mattered, he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time and as soon as the arcane got its goop on him he just became the most specialest magic pixie dream boy to ever live and his own goals, dreams, ideals, morals, talents, skills, and hard work ceased to matter in any meaningful way. he never had to work to master magic to be able to use it to further his goals, because he immediately stopped having goals.

viktor became a non-character. he became whatever ideological and technological threat level the show needed to challenge to heroes and never more. he ceased to have any control or understanding over what was happening to him, rather he just gave up and decided to use his magic indiscriminately for whoever made the most convincing argument, a choice that would have been completely antithetical to his character up to that point if he'd still been alive. 'fuck zaunites, sure i'll turn them into robots so a foreign power can use them to attack and take over piltover and zaun, who cares. it's not like these are the people i've spent 30 years of my life trying to protect and save.' <- something viktor would never ever ever have agreed to! ever! no matter what! they have played us for absolute fools.

ambiguity, the loss of

the thing i wanted the most and was expecting because of the way viktor's original lore was set up was that the series would end with viktor and jayce unreconciled and with mutually exclusive worldviews, both fully believing they were right and the other was misguided but not evil or irredeemable, setting them up for future conflict. this felt like what was being set up when arcane made it a plot point that jayce was being convinced to turn hextech into weapons while viktor started getting unethical and unhinged with the experimentation. they both had good reasons to do what they did - and i'm absolutely not going to insult jayce's intelligence by claiming he was just manipulated into it by anyone, give me a fucking break - but the point was that both of them were doing something the other thought was misguided and dangerous. and they also felt that if they could just make the other person see their completely logical and rational pov, they could fix the divide between them and make up and be best science buddies again.

but then at the end arcane completely gave up on viktor having any belief in his own ideals. it just turned into 'aw actually he was just lonely all along and none of that science stuff or difference in morals or worldviews mattered bc he's got a buddy now and he's completely unequivocally on jayce's side. :)'

it was like. insanely selfish. as in, self-centered, concerned *only* with the self. the viktor i liked, and the one i wanted to flourish and hoped arcane would canonize, was someone who was entirely dedicated to zaun, to righting the wrongs of piltover and helping the people in the way he thought best - no matter what jayce or piltover thought about it. an ambiguous villain, just like all the other really well-written ones in arcane.

accountability, the loss of

viktor killed people. not sky, who was an accident despite his fixation on her; i'm talking at least a hundred or more zaunites during his stint as the machine herald. he ripped their minds out and made them play house with him, then turned them into weapons of war for ambessa's siege, and all of those people - primarily sick, desperate zaunites - died. this was always the entire crux of the conflict between (league) viktor and jayce giopara. viktor was willing to destroy people and use their bodies for his own gain unapologetically because he thought what he was doing was a blessing and the people were better off under his control because they would never feel fear or anger again. agree, disagree, depends on your view of free will and human nature, but the fact is that everyone who came to viktor hoping for a chance to be healed so they could pursue their own dreams and lives had those dreams and lives ripped away from them and they never got justice or even a single scrap of acknowledgement from the narrative.

in arcane, the horror of viktor's actions just... fade away into the background. viktor and jayce waltz off into magicspace together, leaving viktor's dead, ruined victims for piltover and zaun to deal with. he doesn't return their minds or bodies, he doesn't even seem to remember or care about what he had just been doing to other sentient living human beings. he's not sorry, he doesn't feel regret, he got what he wanted (a friend) and fuck everybody else.

because the narrative just shrugs and handwaves and says no no forget all that it doesn't matter it was just the hexcore or whatever, viktor becomes a flat, uninteresting character. he loses the depth that villains like ambessa and silco had, villains who had their victims validated by the story, who faced challenges in their arcs specifically because of the people they had hurt despite thinking they were doing the right or noble or most important thing. and not just the villains! even the heroes had to wrestle with the people they stepped on on the way to their lofty goals. but not viktor. he just floats away scot free, completely blameless, having no affect on the world and the world having no affect on him.

on arcane's status as the new canon lore and the Implications™

reminder that arcane is somehow supposed to tie into the world of runeterra at large, but now viktor and jayce both have been seemingly entirely removed from it. if it only mattered that they knew the people we'd already seen them interact with, okay, i guess. but that isn't the case. they both have a ton of connections to other champions - from regions other than p&z even - that haven't been introduced and don't have any plausible explanation for how they could have met in the past, which means they should have been set up to meet somehow in the future. implying that jinx escaped and has gone traveling the world is the perfect way to incorporate her in-game relationships with people like lux - she could have met her while traveling! but jayce and viktor don't get that plausible continuation of their story and development of further relationships - they just disappear out of existence. (ambessa also has this problem because they killed her, but unlike jayce and viktor she does have a huge amount of unexplored backstory where she could have spoken to (for example) swain and hwei and shyvanna at some point.)

note 1 - jayce and viktor are so old that they don't have any voice lines in game when meeting other champions. but other champions who are either newer or who have had voiceover updates do talk to them, which is how (aside from the old lore) you can infer that they do have relationships with other champions including ones who weren't in arcane.

note 2 - maybe riot actually doesn't care and none of the champions are really supposed to know each other or be involved in each others' lives canonically, they just have random quippy voice lines that imply that. which would fucking suck. having the lore of the game have no impact on the game itself and vice versa would objectively suck. if the characters talk to each other on the rift and say something interesting, i want that to have meaning. i want to be able to extrapolate the state of the world and the relationships between the characters from the things they verbally say with their mouths. i'm not arguing about this. the voicelines should be seen as the most high irrefutable canon that there is for the game because it is the ONLY source of lore in the game itself.

anyways there's my bible i guess. i miss evil laser robot viktor i want him to perform unethical brain surgery on me (fixing my adhd but also turning me into his personal puppet attack dog) and then give a weapon to a child so they can kill their bullies.

#league #arcane #viktor #jayce talis #hextext #also i'm not like devastated over it. i've seen worse endings and way worse character assassination.#this is just my onion ya know.

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cryptictongues · 10 months ago

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The Sun Lives in His Eyes

pairing: Vincent Valentine x Fem!Reader rating: Explicit (MINORS DNI; 18+) word count: 6.9k summary: You try on swimsuits for Vincent, and he doesn't know how to handle it.

warnings: porn with feelings, angst, teasing, lots of dry humping and making out, come tasting, sexual tension

Spoilerwise, I made it so the emotions after the second visit to the Golden Saucer were present but didn't get very specific as to why aside from the keystone and what the stone is needed for (which is in the OG game too). Other than that, this is pretty spoiler free!

Also, just to add, when trying on bathing suits, please for the love of GOD keep your underwear on. Don't let your bare cooch touch it.

Please read my pinned post before following me! Minors and ageless blogs will be blocked as this blog’s content is NSFW.

[AO3 link]

It was midday in Costa Del Sol and it was alive as usual. The beach goers were all in their swimsuits, with their beautiful lays and their skin that had been kissed by the sun. The sky was as blue as can be with a slight overcast of clouds. Booths of a multitude of items for sale and fun games that make the atmosphere of the area feel like one big fair. It was a refreshing change of scenery, especially after the last 24 hours.

Traveling back to Costa Del Sol was no easy task, especially when exhaustion, anger, and disappointment have infiltrated the air. With the failure to retrieve the keystone, the direction of the group had faltered. No one had a clue where the Temple of the Ancients was located, and the future seemed bleak. That was until the mysterious man, the one you have grown very attached to, had suggested using the Tiny Bronco’s radio to try and intercept the signal from the Turks to retrieve the coordinates.

Vincent Valentine: the epitome of peculiar. A man, a beast, a creature of mystery. You and everyone else’s first interaction with him being an almost fatal one, for the bestial side of him was quite destructive. He was fairly fast for a creature of his size, strong reflexes, and phenomenal perception. He wasn’t a normal beast, but of course he wasn’t: he was still a human underneath it all. Which is why once he had transformed back into his original form, the brokenness and anguish that appeared on his face was apparent. You remember vividly how he had looked directly at you, stunning you in your place as you wondered what you had done to receive such a stare.

You never thought you’d make contact with those eyes again with his lack of interest in coming along. So, it was a surprise to see him hop on the Tiny Bronco, explaining the sins he must atone for. It made sense, but a weird part of you sensed that it wasn’t the full truth, especially when he kept looking your way during his tiny monologue. It stirred something within you, having never felt an intensity such as his before. All in all, however, he was a quiet one, kept to himself, and very much an observer.

A very, very good observer.

Something that drew you to each other was neither of you were talkers. You’ve always been the reserved one of the group, not minding wandering around on your own while the others stayed together. The introvert in you enjoys the peace and quiet when able to have it, even though you love your found family. You assumed Vincent relates in some way because after the arrival to Costa Del Sol the first time, he has lingered by your side ever since. You didn’t mind the company, especially when there was a silent mutual understanding between you two.

What you did mind, however, was how utterly insane he’d make you feel. You don’t know if it’s all in your head, but day by day you swear he is advancing his way into your heart and loins. It started with simple glances that led to subtle grazes of his covered fingers on your exposed ones. The intimate moments have gradually increased, which have haunted your dreams in the most intimate of ways.

Back at the Golden Saucer, you and Vincent had been off on your own together. You both had stayed in the Queen’s Blood gaming area for a while, playing stacked games since you both were considered pros amongst most people. It was the last round, and you had a slight lead. You were waiting for him to take his turn, watching him contemplate his hand. You were hoping, praying even, that he didn’t see how you had set yourself up to win.

But of course, he had seen right through it. Once he plucked the card he wanted to use from his deck, you already knew it’s game over. You had let out a groan before he could put it down and the look in his eyes shifted as quickly as they had shifted back in amusement.

“You don’t even know what I am playing.”

“I can take a wild guess.”

“Hmm, is that so?” He had hummed, leaning in as close as he could without his body messing up the board. He had held his card between two of his left fingers, dangling the damn thing in front of you. “If you guess the specific card I’m about to play correctly, you win.”

You were in shock as he was one to never willingly gamble his wins. In your dysfunctional brain, you had thought about all of the cards he had in his possession. Vincent’s biggest asset as a player was knowing how to use his cards, often using ones that didn’t seem to do much on the surface. You had thought long and hard, debating between which cards he could have considered, before deciding there was only one that made the most sense.

“Grandhorn.”

Vincent chuckled, putting his card down, and low and behold the Grandhorn appeared. It boosted his score a point above yours, but it hadn’t mattered. You had won.

“So, I guess I won since I guessed correctly?”

“I suppose so, but I expected nothing less.” He had leaned in once more, a glimmer in his eyes as he looked you dead on. “Smart girl.”

The way he had said it had made your insides curl with delight. Having someone like him be so teasing and flirty in his own way with you had you flushed, and you knew he noticed. Before he had said anything to send you into another flushing fit, you had quickly gotten up and told him exactly what you wanted to do next.

You had dragged him over to the G-Bike game, insisting to play as you’ve always wanted to ride a motorcycle, even if it’s just in simulation form. However, within 30 minutes, you were flinging yourself left to right with frustration with the lack of ability to get at least a one-star rating. It wasn’t until you had felt a weight behind you, recognizable leather clad arms wrapping over yours, did you realize how fucked you really were. His body was pressed right against you with every limb touching your own. His fingers had curled over yours and his breath was brushing against the sensitive skin of your ear.

“ Give me the glasses ,” he murmured.

“Let me take you for a ride.”

Needless to say, you had to excuse yourself. You had felt a tinge of embarrassment at how you reacted, but it was quickly stomped out by how much you needed to relieve yourself. You had felt bad leaving Vincent alone to wander a place that was outside of what he was acclimated to, but the hormonal teen in your brain was screaming at you to do something.

You had been thankful that everyone was out doing their thing because the minute the hotel door was shut, you were on your bed with your hand down your pants. All you could think about was how good he felt against you. He was warm and you could feel everything; from the buckles, to the leather creases, to the outline of his long cock you felt pressed against your backside. With every twist and turn, your bodies would shift, and it created a friction so teasing that you couldn’t have helped but whimpered.

You had thought about his groans when you would accidentally push back on him. The sound had vibrated on your skin, proving how close his mouth was to your neck. You remembered how his cock twitched against you. Those thoughts had only made you rub your weeping cunt more, leading to more devious ones. You wondered what would’ve happened if you had just kept grinding on him. Would he have lost control? Would he have been as flushed as you had been 30 minutes prior? Picturing images of him flushed below you as you worked each other up had sent you spiraling into release, biting your arm so as to not cause any alarm.

You had a hard time looking at him the next day without your mind wandering to something sinful. Things have toned down since due to the interruption of plans, but his gazes have stayed firm. You could always feel the stare of his eyes burning into you, and it never failed to make you squirm and plunder.

Presently, all of you were on the dock, discussing the coordinates Vincent had found over the radio. A game plan was being formed, an agreement that the rest of the day should be one of rest and preparation before the journey tomorrow. The party started to disperse, some with tasks like gathering supplies and booking rooms for the night. You were left to your own devices, debating on what you wanted to do to pass the time. You look out onto the water, and you don’t know if it is the heat or the exhaustion in your muscles, but going for a swim sounded absolutely divine.

You heard the metal clanking of Vincent’s shoes behind you, making you turn around to greet him. The thoughts back at the saucer were begging to be reminded but you pushed them back, not sure if you would survive those them with him in front of you. He greets you with a hum, hovering very close to you to the point you have to look up at him. Damn, he is so tall!

Clearing your throat, you greet him back with your thumbs twiddling with each other nervously. “So, is there anything you want to do today?”

“That is entirely up to you. Wherever you’d like to go, I’ll follow.”

Your breath starts to shutter, but you cough to cover it up. You didn’t want to make it obvious how much he is affecting you right now, even though you are sure it didn’t matter what you did. He always knew.

“Well, this may sound crazy, but I kind of want to go swimming.”

“Oh?” His head tilts, eyes amused.

“Y-yeah, but I know you cannot be comfortable in this heat. I wouldn’t want to keep you in it.”

“I can manage.”

You laugh because of course he can. “If you say so, but I will need to get a swimsuit. You don’t mind coming with me to buy one, do you?”

He shakes his head, moving to your side to allow you to lead the way. You both start walking towards the bathing suit booth up ahead and as usual Vincent’s fingers linger by yours. There is no touching, but you can feel them right by you, causing your fingers to twitch. It’s driving you mad, and you are tired of him teasing you to the point of insanity. So out on a whim, confidence boosting, you let your hand grab his metal one. You feel his walk stutter, but he quickly recovers to let the gold claws wrap around your own.

You lead him to the booth right past the dock and start to look around. There are so many options, and you can feel yourself become a little overwhelmed at your choices.

“Is everything okay?” Vincent was behind you. You guess he can see the tension in your shoulders as you peruse the different styles.

“I guess I just don’t know what would be best to wear.” You admit.

The young woman running the booth must have been waiting for an opportunity to sell because the next thing you know she is right in front of you. “Good evening! Would you like some help?”

“Oh, uh…” Before you can utter anymore words, she continues her pitch.

“It is no trouble! I can curate some of our different pieces so you can decide which ones you like best!”

Before you can decline again, she is already ushering you to the changing booth, basically shoving you in. “I’ll be right back with some swimwear!”

You peek out and you can see Vincent about to walk over to the seller, irritation clear on his face. Shit.

“Vincent, come here!”

He turns to you before walking up. As he stops in front of you, you see how much his eyes are flared, burning more red than usual. You aren’t sure how to calm him down, not seeing him like this since the incident at Shinra Manor. You reach out, letting your palm rest against his cheek, hoping that will somehow ease his mind.

“She shouldn’t have put her hands on you. She is lucky to still be standing on her two feet.”

The protective nature he was exuding was endearing, but also very sexy. You put those thoughts on the backburner, bringing your hand to his neck to stroke the irritation there.

“I appreciate you looking out for me, but I promise it’s okay. I’m okay.” You reassure, squeezing his skin right above his collarbone. “Let me try on what she offers and then we can get out of here.”

“Alright, here are a few pieces I think would go perfectly with your style!” She hands you the pieces, and turns to Vincent, clueless to the absolute annoyance he wanted to convey in that moment. “I apologize, sir, but let’s give your lady friend some privacy.”

You see his eyes flare again, and you quickly shoot your other hand out from behind the curtain to keep him facing you. “It’s okay! He can stay!”

“Well, if you insist! Just no funny business you two!” She winks at you both and walks back to her station. You gulp out of a nervous habit, even though there is no spit to swallow. Is it that obvious that you two have some unspoken thing for one another?

“Okay, um, let me try these on.” You squeeze his arm in reassurance before going back into the changing booth. You close the curtain and lay out the pieces you were working with. You inspected each one, and you came to a horrifying conclusion: these were very revealing swimsuits.

There was nothing wrong with revealing swimwear, in fact you actually quite liked the ones the lady picked for you. However, Vincent was right outside and would see you in one of these. Would it be too much for him to see you so bare? You are very covered up in your usual attire, so this is a complete 180 and leaves little for the imagination.

You decide to try one on anyway, picking the one-piece swimsuit that is all black and has a long v-line cut. You strip away your clothes, and slip the suit on, adjusting it so everything is even. You go to tie the string in the back, but you can already tell it will be a challenge. You try to tie the knot, but you could feel yourself getting frustrated, grunting in aggravation as the tie keeps going undone.

“Are you okay?” Vincent called from outside, obviously hearing you struggle.

You sigh in defeat, ready for some assistance. “Um, I think I need help tying the string in the back. Can you give me a hand if I come out?”

You hear him hum in agreement, and you open the curtain and quickly turn your back. “Just the one string please.”

He hums again and gets to work, grabbing the two ends and crisscrossing them before pulling tightly. You hear him shuffle closer to you, and once again his breath is on your ear. “Is that tight enough for you?”

You freeze. He said it so quietly that you wonder if you are hallucinating but you know what you heard. He is teasing you again. He is trying to rile you up like he did at the Golden Saucer. Well, two can play at that game.

“Yes, that is good. Please tie it.” You feel him take a step back, and he ties the strings to ensure they stay together.

Once you feel his hands pull away, you turn to him to show off your swimsuit. It hugs you in all the right places, quite comfortably, and it covers you aside from the middle of your body. The v-line shows off your chest, covering your breasts and getting narrower until the point stops down at your belly button. You feel sexy and seeing Vincent’s reaction was the cherry on top.

You watch as his eyes take in your form. You see them wander from your chest to your sternum and it is crazy how much the red of his eyes get smaller as his pupils blow wide. His fingers tremble against his side with slight movement in his arms like he wants to reach out for you, but they stay in place. His control is absolutely astonishing.

“Vincent? Do I look okay?”

His eyes snap away, coughing in the process like he didn’t just eye fuck you. He rubbed his neck, forcing himself to look anywhere but towards you. “Yes, it looks fine.”

You release a smirk, feeling almost powerful seeing this man react the way he had. “Okay, well I am going to try the other ones on.”

You go back inside, and giggle quietly to yourself. It felt good to tease him. With how much he teases you, with how much he riles you up, it is his turn to be on the receiving end of torment. You rip off the one piece, and decide to put on one of the two pieces you were given to try.

The one you decide to put on is a dark red bikini. The top clips on, so you didn’t need assistance this time. You look in the mirror and you notice how much the top pushes out your breasts. The flesh sticks out, making them look so much bigger than they were. You don’t know if Vincent was a boob man or not, but all you can think is you can’t wait to find out.

“Hey Vincent, can you tell me if this looks okay? I’m not sure how I feel about this one.”

You push the curtain open just as he turns to look in your direction, and his look is priceless. You see him take a heeded breath, one hand turning into a fist and the other gripping his side in what appears to be a hard grip. You hold back a smile, not wanting to give hints to your actions, and walk towards him. You are now standing toe to toe with him, looking up at a man who clearly was losing his cool.

“Vincent, are you okay? You don’t look so good.” You coo, placing two fingers against his pulse point under his chin. He lets out a grunt at the contact, and your mind is reeling at how fast his pulse is going.

“Vincent, what are yo-”

“I’m fine.” He grunts, taking your hand away from his neck.

You let it drop, and turn around to the booth. “Just one more and we can go, okay? I’ll be quick.”

You don’t give him another glance as you go back in. You fist pump the air in success as giving him a taste of his own medicine was truly a sight to behold. You are ready to go in for the kill with the last one, which is another bikini. However, this one was black with stretchy black laces that wrap around your stomach. This one felt like a good in between from the other two, but you feel this one will affect him the most. You don’t know why, but something about the intricacies of how it covers your body is simply seducing.

You finish putting it on and you can’t help the excitement you feel. Out of the three, you like the way this one fits you the most. Not only is it comfortable, but it is an absolute confidence booster. It fits your body well and the laces across your waist accentuates it beautifully. Not only was this the swimsuit you would be purchasing, but you are excited to show it off to Vincent for another reaction.

You rip open the curtain, cutting right to the chase, only to see he is no longer where he once stood. You hop out of the booth, looking around for the spiky black hair and red cloak, only to see him nowhere in sight.

“You looking for your boyfriend, babes?”

You turn to see the seller approaching you, the word boyfriend not even registering. You just want to find him.

“Yeah, did you see where he went?”

She nods over to the dock, back where the Tiny Bronco was located. “He went onto the dock. He seemed to be in quite a rush.”

You quickly thank her. You grab your things from the changing booth, and quickly round up the gil for the swimsuit you were wearing. “Thank you, keep the change.”

You run back to the dock and see the Bronco’s door slightly ajar. You push the door open, not wanting to alarm him as you climb on. You see him sitting on the bench in the very back, hands clutching his head and breathing heavy. Alarmed by how he is reacting, you make yourself known and slowly approach where he is sitting.

“Vincent, are you okay?”

He grunts roughly, fingers visibly clutching his head harder. “You need to get off.”

You contemplated your next move. You could listen and get off, let him calm himself down. But then you think what if he can’t calm down? What if his mind spirals from his thoughts? Would you leaving really make things better or worse?

You think back to the time when you first met him, how defeated he looked after he had transformed back. How he had stared you down, taking your breath away at how utterly disheveled and beautiful he looked. He had been alone for so long, and that thought turned your rational mind off. You weren’t going to run. He needed you.

“Vincent, I am not going anywhere.”

His head shoots up, his eyes crimson and face scrunched up like he was holding himself back. He notices your final change of the evening and the growl he lets out is feral. “You,” he snarls, “better not take a single step more.”

You stop again, realization hitting you like a freight train. Did I do this? Did I go too far?

“Did I do something to upset you?” You ask quietly, afraid of what his response was going to be. “If I did, I am so sorry.”

He doesn’t respond, still looking to the ground although his breathing has subsided slightly. You approach him again, this time making it so you were only a foot away.

“You don’t want this.” He mutters.

“What do you mean?”

“I am a monster. The baggage I bring with me, the absolute madness that stirs from within. I don’t know if I can control myself, and that scares me, which means it will scare you.”

You can’t understand what he is saying. “You don’t scare me, Vincent. You could never scare me.”

He grunts out a laugh, like he doesn’t believe a word out of your mouth. “You don’t understand what primal thoughts are going through my mind right now.”

“Well, try me.” You reach out for his face, wanting to touch him, but his right hand grabs your wrist.

“You don’t know what you want, so stop this.”

You feel like you could cry. The whiplash you are receiving after he has gotten under your skin only to rip himself away is too much. How dare he make your blood run hot and then make it go cold in an instant? You rip your arm away, taking a step back. Your gaze falls to the Bronco’s floor, feeling stupid at your attempt to draw him in. Your arms wrap around your body, sequestering it away from his gaze.

“You don’t know what I want, so stop putting words into my mouth.” You choke out. Your fists are clenching on your tummy, anger starting to bubble to the surface. “I know you know how I feel about you because you wouldn’t continue to rile me up the way you do if you didn’t. I wouldn’t react the way I do if I didn’t. Truthfully, I love it. So don’t you dare tell me that I don’t know what I want.”

Everything goes quiet. The only thing that can be heard is the heavy breathing on both of your ends. Your anger disappears and is replaced with disappointment. You don’t know if there is any way to convince him, and you aren’t going to be made a fool in the process.

“I know what I want.” You say softly. “I have desires too.”

It all happens so quickly, your body jolting forward until you are straddling his lap. You gasp, immediately feeling his hard on against your own clothed slit. He’s bigger than I thought, you think, for a man so skinny and sculpted . Two golden claws tilt your chin up, forcing you to be face to face with him. He is much taller than you, so he is slightly over you as he closes in. His breath fans over your lips, eyes erratic and glazed.

You let out a shaky sigh, letting your hands travel up to his face, cupping his cheeks gently as if to let him know what he wants to do is okay. “Do it. Show me you want me too.”

Lips press against yours instantly. It’s intense and intimate with the way he still has a hold on your chin and the way his free arm wraps around your waist to keep you grounded against him. You don’t know if it is the way he has you pressed to him or the way he surrounds your senses, but you feel calm. Even with the aggressive nature of his kisses, it is like he has seeped under your skin, a venomous serum to calm his prey down before he devours. You want more. You need more.

Your hands travel up past his temples to the back of his head, curling your fingers around his black locks. You pull delicately, not knowing how keen he was on pain, only to hear the most delicious whine leave his mouth into yours. You take the opportunity to let your tongue touch his, already becoming addicted to the way he tastes. His grip got tighter on you, trying to pull you in closer even if it wasn’t possible. There was an urgency in his actions as if what you two were doing was too much yet not enough.

His erection was starting to react more and more against you. You could feel yourself growing restless with the need for some sort of contact. You work to shift your knees slightly, spreading them out more across the bench, and start to grind against the shape of his length.

A growl from the deepest part of his throat rips out into the open. The claws of his gauntlet let go of your chin and latch to your hip. You stop your movements, thinking he was going to stop you, but he does no such thing. He pushes you down further onto his crotch, moving you himself to urge you to keep going. You follow his movements, letting him guide you back and forth on his cock. All you can think about is how large he is, and how good he feels against your pussy. However, it still isn’t enough.

You move a hand down to your bottoms, sliding the part covering your heat to the side to get more friction. You can’t help the moan that leaves you the second your clit rubs against the leather of his pants, the roughness different from that of the silk. You move your hips faster, not skipping a beat as to chase a release.

“That’s it,” Vincent growls against your lips. “Just like that.”

His encouragement sends dopamine right to your brain, giving your hips a mind of their own as you continue to rut against him. Your hips start to tire, becoming noticeable as your knees give out slightly before you readjust. Your mind begs you to keep going, begging to keep your pace so you can reach any type of peak.

Your knees collapse again, and next thing you know your knees are no longer on the bench but spread far apart by Vincent’s thighs. His garbed hands are on your ass to keep you right where he wants you, and with the motion of his own hips he is rocking up into you slowly with firm pressure. You release his lips, your head resting on his shoulder as he grinds up into your cunt.

“Fuck, Vincent,” you drawl out, gripping his hair tighter with the hand still there, your other hand finding purchase on his shoulder.

Vincent was having none of that, his right hand shoots to your head to pull it back to face him. What you see invigorates you, as Vincent’s eyes no longer had a red presense. They were the color of the light of day before dusk. The whites of his eyes were illuminated, and his canines had elongated drastically.

“Is this what you wanted?” Vincent hisses. “Do you still want this?”

The self-pity in his eyes was becoming, and you weren’t having any of that. You were not about to have the man, who is making you go crazy by just nuzzling his long cock into your nethers, get distressed by disillusions. Your left hand drops from his head, dipping down where both of your crotches meet. The tips of your fingers dip into your dripping cunt, the evidence clear as day on his leathers. But if you must show extra proof, you will.

You stuff two of your fingers into your hole, still making eye contact with his yellow orbs as you let your face contort. Your fingers come out covered in your sticky fluid, translucent webbing formed in between your fingers. You bring it between your faces, your eyes bold and lips curling devilishly. “Does this answer your question?”

You don’t know what possessed you, but you let those fingers touch his lips. You pull his lower lip down, seeing if he would let his tongue travel out for a taste. You hum approvingly when he lets the tip give a small lick, and moan all together when he starts to lick them clean. Seeing Vincent obey such a small, unspoken command was the sexiest thing you have witnessed to date, and it makes you want to push him even more.

You pull your fingers away, causing him to follow them to continue getting his fill. “Look at you,” you purr. “Like a kitten begging for milk.”

“You are one to talk.” He grumbles, thrusting his hips up so it rubs right against your clit. “You’re the one rubbing your bare cunt against me.”

A high-pitched moan wrangles from your throat as he bounced you up and down, followed by a sex drunken laugh. “Why don’t we change that?”

You push his chest so he is leaning way back on the bench, allowing you to steady yourself as you unbuckle his belts. As soon as you open his fly, his bulge pushes outward and you can hear the sigh of relief leave his lungs. Your hands dip into his underwear, pulling the elastic down to release his cock fully. His cock springs up, precum drooling from his swollen head. Your hand wraps around the tip, squeezing to see another pearl form. Your thumb sweeps over it, gathering as much as you can, before bringing it up to your mouth with the need to taste him.

If Vincent’s eyes could glow brighter, they would have blinded you with the way he was watching you. You let your thumb pop out of your mouth, letting some spit travel down your hand before rubbing it over his cock. You readjust once more, angling your hips so your clit would connect with his tip with each roll, and sit right back onto his lap. You both cry out in unison, both of you sensitive and in dire need of release. You crash your lips against his as you roll your hips in a slow, yet firm rhythm. Your hands grip at his hair, loving the way he ruts into you when you pull on it. You don’t hold back, too far gone to tease the daylights out of him, moaning into his mouth every time the head of his cock kisses your bud.

Vincent wasn’t faring any better, his volume only increasing at the friction. He releases your lips, his head falling onto your shoulder with a long groan. You feel tiny prickles against your skin, his fangs grazing it as he kisses and sucks on your flesh. His hands go over the strings of your swimsuit, gripping the skin of your waist to pull you closer.

His mouth proceeds up your shoulder to your jaw, nipping your pulse point before licking it. The difference between the movement of his hips and his lips is drastic. His lips move slowly, caressing the skin after every love bite he gives you like you are delicate, while his hips buck into you with conviction. It is like he doesn’t know whether he wants to cherish you, or prove to you how much of a monster he can be.

Both of your essences are mixing as you continue, creating easier movement and a more heavenly feeling. You can feel yourself getting close to your release, hips flying back and forth trying to grasp onto it. It isn’t until your hips give out, a frustrated whine leaving you as the peak downtrails.

“Don’t you dare give up on me.” Vincent orders into your ear.

“Fuck, I can’t,” you sob, the ache in your hips and knees showing as you start to slow down.

You don’t fully comprehend what happens next, not until you feel the cold metal of the Bronco’s floor on your back. Vincent yanks your bottoms down your legs, exposing all you have to offer to him. He is on you, hunched over you as he thrusts against your fully exposed cunt. You can’t help but shove your head into the crevice of his neck, wailing at how fast he is going. You are surprised he hasn’t accidentally slipped in with how wet you are, the sounds coming from your nethers making that more apparent.

“I am so close, fuck!” You whimper. You are on the cusp. You needed something. Just a little push to put you over. “Please, please, please, Vincent! I need it so bad! I need you!”

You feel his fangs against your shoulder, nipping and licking the same spot over and over again. A warm sensation fills you, not registering it until the piercing pain of his incisors sink into your skin. It hurts so good, the combination of pain and pleasure shooting through your system. It sets the tone for your release, causing you to scream into his shoulder. It is electrifying, ecstasy filling in the gaps as your orgasm rolls in waves. Vincent wasn’t far behind, and something about your blood must have sent him into a frenzy. His hips are going inhumanly quick, and after a few more thrusts he ejects his fangs from your body as he cums.

His moans echoing into your ear has you gripping onto him harder, comforting him as he rides out his high. Fingers stroke the hairs on the back of his neck, hushing him soothingly as his body shakes. It isn’t long after he starts groaning, his grip tightening on your thighs.

“Are you okay?” You ask worried, lifting his head so you can get a good look at him. But what you see stirs something from deep within your chest.

You don’t know if it’s because golden hour has reached its peak, but he looks ethereal. His fangs were no more, but there was blood that has stained his mouth. The beams of golden light reflect off of him, his pale skin shining from the light perspiration on his face. He looks so beautiful in the sun’s rays, like an angel wrapped in light. His eyes slowly open, and a soft gasp leaves your lips. His eyes were no longer illuminating yellow. His eyes, the vibrancy of them, have transformed into the sun. Their usual molten color is bright like the sun's surface. His usual orange rings that surround his pupil are golden, and you can see your reflection in the deep black.

He takes a minute to gather himself before nodding, a sigh passing through his lips before sitting up on his knees. You peer down to your lower half, which is now covered in his seed and your own mess. Vincent’s eyes are glued to your mound, his cum having pooled there from his heavy release. After a moment, he takes his leather glove off his right hand, skin pale and blue from the veins protruding. His fingers dip into his cooled cum, letting it collect on his fingers before pulling his hand away.

“Vincent, what are yo-” you start before you watch him bring his fingers towards your lips. He lets them hover, waiting to see if you would be as keen to sampling him again like he did with you.

A light chuckle leaves your lips. He is just full of surprises.

You sit up on your elbows, your mouth pressing light kisses to his fingers before indulging. Your eyes flutter close, a quiet moan rumbling from your chest as take in his taste for a second time. He tastes neutral, nothing too bitter or too musky. It tastes exactly as you expected. Because it was him, he tasted absolutely delectable. And you can’t get enough.

“Look at you,” Vincent mimics your tone from earlier, smirking in the process. “Like a kitten begging for milk.”

His fingers leave your mouth, making you chase after them until he kisses you suddenly. The iron attacks your senses pleasantly, and his humming tells you that his seed is having the same effect on him. You both stay there for a while, just kissing in each other’s mess, and before you know it the sky has turned into its orange hue before the nightfall.

You decide to pull away first, bringing your hands to his face to soothe the sweat dried skin. “I don’t want this to end, but we should get going. The others may be wondering where we wandered off to.”

He hums slowly, like he was debating whether he cared or not, but ultimately decided to sit fully up. He puts his cock back into his leathers, getting himself situated before he helps you stand up properly. Your body doesn’t feel real from how drained your muscles are, and you think he can tell by the way he guides your hands to his shoulders. He brings your bottoms over to your legs, and urges you to put your feet through the openings. Using his shoulders as leverage, you do as he silently instructs and he pulls them up until you are covered. You look down and see the cum has dried on your skin, and the thought of anyone possibly seeing it makes your cheeks burn, knowing you’d never live it down.

“Do you think anyone will notice?”

Instantly, like he was already planning to do this, he undid the buckles of his cape and wrapped it around your shoulders. With him being such a broad and tall man, his cape covered you very well and hid the evidence of your coupling.

“It gets cool during nightfall. It won’t be suspicious.”

“But what about your pants? There is cum on them too.”

“Truthfully, I don’t care.”

You pull the cape closer to you, inhaling and exhaling his scent, filling your brain with a sense of safety. Vincent believed he wasn’t deserving of you, that he was a danger to you and others. But when you feel such a sense of security with him, how can he not see that you need him?

He finishes putting his glove back on, flexing his fingers before he goes to open the door of the Bronco. Your brain reacts first, hand grabbing his arm before he could expose you both to the outside world. You needed to know something. You needed to know if he still feels how he felt earlier.

“Vincent, can I ask you something?”

He turns to you, curiosity peaking. He places his golden fingers over the hand gripping his arm, signaling for you to ask your question.

“You don’t regret what just happened, do you? I’m not going to wake up like it was yesterday, am I?”

There is silence, and you mentally hit yourself for the lack of confidence, your voice having dropped to a whisper. Your head drops again, worried about what was about to not be said, before you feel a gentle kiss on the top of your head.

“There is nothing to regret,” he murmurs. “Especially when it comes to you.”

You lift your head up, eyes meeting his, before letting a smile form on your face. His facial features match your own, and he brings you in for a sweet kiss before you two return to the others. You don’t think about them though, because all you can think is that he let you in.

He willingly let you in.

#vincent valentine x reader #vincent valentine #vincent fic #vincent smut #ff7 rebirth #final fantasy vii #ff7 x reader #my fics

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the-summ0ning · 7 months ago

Text

𓉸ྀི Linger 𓉸ྀི PART ONE

Roomie!Nick Folio x Fem!introvert!Bookworm!Reader

Word count: 5.1k

Awkwardly avoiding your hot roommate after him walking in on you listening to your guilty pleasure was easy enough, you thought, until it wasn't. Not when you had all the same friends, and you were all in a cabin in the woods for Noah's birthday, and Nick shows up looking like said guilty pleasure.

!!!THIS PIECE IS PURE FICTION ABOUT REAL PEOPLE, NOT YOUR THING TURN AWAY. BUT AGAIN IT'S JUST FICTION AND NOT HOW THESE PPL ARE IRL!!!

CONTENT WARNINGS: swearing, recreational drug and alcohol use, awkward romcom moments, fluff, yearning.

A/n: hahah spooky season is upon us and I wrote this after I had insomnia for over 24 hours after the wildest week of having the flu a few weeks ago, and have been sitting on it debating if I wanted to post this. This could be a totally considered self-indulgent, maybe cringe, but oh well it's my digital footprint & I have to live with. But welcome to my first fic on this blog, and my first piece posted at least for the BO guys in general, had to show the cinnamon roll Folio love first. thank yewwww and enjoy

⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧⛧°。 °⛧⛧°。 °⛧⛧°。 °⛧⛧°。°⛧⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。

The universe had a painfully ironic sense of humor. Noah Sebastian and his friends, with their twisted embrace of clichés, unknowingly played right into its hands.

After years of running in the same circles, Noah had grown to resent sharing his birthday with Halloween—except for the rare occasions when he leaned into the theme completely. This year was one of those times. A slasher-themed party in a huge cabin in the woods for the weekend. Cute. Real fuckin’ cute.

If it weren’t for the fact that you’d promised months ago to make all the baked goods—long before you knew the party theme—and that his closest friend and bandmate happened to be your roommate, you would’ve bailed. But you were a good friend, one who loved your friends and kept your word. Even if it meant enduring the mortification of being around Folio, said roommate, fighting the urge to disappear into the woods every time he glanced or came in your direction.

Because Folio knew your dirty little secret.

One you hadn’t even shared with your closest girlfriends. A secret you’d intended to bury in the deepest corners of your feral little brain—until Folio, of all people, unearthed it. He’d come home early from a fishing trip because of a storm and found you in your natural state of debauchery: high, sprawled on the couch, blasting a dark romance smut audiobook through the living room’s soundbar to a concerning decibel. To make matters worse, it was during the most graphic part, and not just any audiobook—this one had sound effects. And masks. And filthy, filthy things.

You’d nearly combusted when you saw him standing in the doorway for who knows how long, looking bemused, at you giggling and quietly squealling into a throw pillow. You scrambled to pause the audio, but of course, the universe wasn’t on your side, and your phone took its sweet time. Long enough for him to hear everything.

It’s not like you were about to do anything. You weren’t physically aroused, just mortified that he now knew what you listened to when he wasn’t around. Mortified as if his living room had been christened by your smut. Mortified he probably assumed you touched yourself to it when he wasn’t there—or worse, that it was some deep, dark fantasy of yours. No that totally wasn’t your guilty conscience projecting or anything.

You’d only lived with Nick for four months. Four months of being around him more than you ever had since meeting him through mutual friends years ago. Before this, you could count on both hands the number of times you’d been alone together. Not that there wasn’t any issues with him, you just considered the two of you as polar opposites to think he’d actually want to be around you or you’d have enough in common to pass the basis of ‘acquaintance’ or ‘mutual friend’.

He was funny, the kind of guy who made your cheeks hurt from laughing at his corny jokes. He was charming, with that Southern hospitality that always seemed to melt your insides, and his country twang made you melt just that much more. You hated how easily he could make your social anxiety melt away at parties, offering you a hit of his joint or a cigarette and small conversation when he noticed you hadn’t your usual friends you clung to. Confident, magnetic, always ready to be rowdy, a through and through extrovert, everything you were not.

You were an extroverted introvert–at best. A pessimistic optimist. An awkward rain shower on a sunny day. The house cat who only craved attention when it suited you, having zoomies when no one was watching.

That’s exactly what the embarrassing night felt like—your version of a cat caught in a burst of energy when it thought no one was looking. Except Folio was looking. And all he did was give you that dopey smile, the one with the gleam in his dark chocolate eyes, and made some smart-ass remark before disappearing into his room.

“So, this is what you do when I’m not around. Cute.”

As if he were the amused owner, catching his pet in the act.

He never brought it up again, but you both knew. And it gnawed at you. Maybe you were again projecting and he hadn’t thought much of it, but still!

And now, of all the costumes in the world, famous slashers, any other character from a horror movie, or crashed out and went with a basic t-shirt in the same vein of the theme of the party. No. He had chosen to wear a Ghostface mask. You, meanwhile, were dressed as a cheesy, slutty Casey Becker from Scream. It wasn’t planned. You’d done your best to avoid him the last two weeks, conveniently ever since the theme had been known to you. Quick hellos and goodbyes, or hasty exchanges with those days.

But tonight, at the party, there was no escaping him. Between leaving early before he even woke, helping with decorations, and playing the mom friend throughout the night for your own friends, you made yourself scarce. Dodging him became an art form. Until, of course, he cornered you.

You were about to refill Matt’s drink when Nick approached, his Ghostface mask pulled up. He tossed Matt’s empty cup, and handed you a cup of red jungle juice (with gummies shaped like body parts floating the mix of fruit of course), his hand casually settling on the small of your back, guiding you wordlessly toward the quieter part of the yard by the small shed by the brush of woods. The touch sent an unexpected chill through you, even though you tried to ignore it. You turned to protest, but he tapped his ear, signaling the blunt tucked behind it.

You rolled your eyes, laughing under your breath, and let him lead you to the shed. As much as you weren’t ready to talk to him, you hadn’t taken a break all night, and the excuse to get away from the crowd and babysit your friends was tempting. Your social battery ticking away faster than anticipated.

“Didn’t realize you were such a great party planner,” he said, leaning against the shed as he lit the blunt, his eyes catching under the faint glow of the solar lights.

You shrugged, struggling to keep your voice casual as your heart raced and cheeks warmed. His presence was overwhelming, making you hyper-aware of everything—the slight brush of his fingers when he passed you the blunt, the way his lips curled when he smiled. Even the music felt like it was conspiring against you, with Deftones' haunting melodies filling the background, stirring things inside you that you wished would stay buried.

“It was a group effort,” you mumbled, staring at your shoes to avoid his gaze. The warmth of his hand on your back lingered, leaving you unsettled in ways you weren’t prepared for. But when you glanced at him, his eyes were fixed on you, his brow furrowed like he was trying to figure something out.

“Nah, I didn’t do anything. I’m just here to boost morale and be the life of the party,” he chuckled, though the sound felt a little forced. As if he was trying just as hard as you to keep things light, keep things normal.

He passed the blunt back, and you took a hit, trying to calm your racing thoughts. You couldn’t help but wonder if he thought about that night too. It had been weeks, but it still felt raw in the fiber of your being, especially now with the tension hanging between you.

“And I know half of these ideas were your asshole suggestions, after searching kid halloween party on Pinterest.” He added, smirking. “But they love it. Noah loves it.”

You smiled despite yourself, taking another hit quickly to hide it, the warmth of his compliment stirring something soft in your chest. “Glad to hear it. Sometimes I worry my trolling gets taken a little too seriously.”

“They thrive off it,” he said, his voice quieter now, more thoughtful. He gestured for you to keep the blunt, taking a swig of his drink instead. “All for you, bub. Roomie blunt.”

The nickname hit you harder than you wanted to admit, a surge of affection mixing with the ever-present tension. His voice, low and soft, carried a weight that made it feel more intimate than it should have. You swallowed, trying to push the feeling down. Deflect, deflect, deflect.

“Matching costumes and now roomie blunts?” You teased, though your voice sounded breathier than you intended. “Are we hitting new roommate milestones?”

He laughed, but it was quieter this time, almost shy. “Didn’t mean to steal your thunder.” He said almost apologetically, there was still an edge of smugness maybe arrogance. “I tried to wear a t-shirt with just Michael and Freddy on it, but Jolly told me to ‘piss off and I wasn’t wearing that to our best friend’s birthday party.’ Drove me to a Spirit before we picked Noah up, it was like the only thing left close to the theme.” He explained. “I didn’t even have a plain black shirt. Had to flip this inside out.”

“Oh Jolly said ‘fuck you thought’ for real.” You giggled, the effect of the cannabis hitting you as you rubbed the rough inseam on his shoulder that you failed to notice when he walked in tonight. It was comical and relieving to know this wasn't a jab at you now, and just a half-ass last minute idea--typical Folio fashion.

“Wait for it, wait for it,” he pointed a finger up. Balancing the cup rim between his teeth, his drink splashing on himself as he pulled his t-shirt up exposing his torso as he clumsily tugged his shirt toward you to see a print of Michael Myers and Freddy Krueger holding hands in a meadow.

Through puffs of smoke, you full out cackled, now holding his shoulder for support. “What? Did you think you were too tough to dress up for Nowah’s birthday party?” Mustering your best baby voice in between your wheezing, the tension breaking for a moment. But even as you laughed, your eyes lingered on him a second too long. On the sharp line of his jaw, the curve of his mouth, the way his dark ochre eyes seemed to trace your every movement, as if he were studying you, waiting for something. But then he pulled the mask down, breaking the easiness of the moment.

He smoothed his shirt down, mocking your laugh. “The fuck am I gonna do with this after?”

Well…

Even with his shirt inside out, with alcohol spills staining it, and ash from your blunt speckling his clothes, the look did things to you--he looked good. The mask, the way he carried himself, all of it stirred something deeper. Your mind flashed back to that audiobook, to the night he caught you—and suddenly, the faceless man from the story wasn’t faceless anymore. It was Nick. It had always been Nick, lurking in the corners of your thoughts, even when you tried to deny it for several months before. You had buried the attraction you felt towards him well enough, denying that maybe your harmless crush was something more. Letting the term roommates be your boundary for him, not wanting to make an arrangement of living with an attractive acquaintance that you had festering feelings for even more awkward.

Despite your best efforts, you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks. And even though your mind screamed at you to say something, to make a joke, you were too caught up in the moment—the way his presence pressed into yours, the unspoken tension crackling between you like static.

You handed the blunt back, your fingers brushing a second too long with his, the touch jolting something within you. “I’m sure you can find other uses for it, Bub,” you said, but the words came out softer than you intended, almost like a promise.

For a moment, neither of you moved. His hand lingered near yours, his dark eyes searching your face, as if he was waiting for something—waiting for you to break the silence. The air between you felt heavy, charged, like the moment could tip in any direction. Your heart hammered in your chest, your breath coming a little too fast. You were standing so close now, the night’s sounds fading into the background.

Your lips parted, wanting to say something, anything—but the words caught in your throat. Maybe this was your chance. Maybe you could make sure things weren’t as weird as you imagined it to be. Or maybe you could take that small step forward, close the gap between you, and see where it led.

But instead, you took a step back.

“Thanks for the morale boost! Gonna go beg Ruffilo to play something less whiny and horny now!”

The moment stretched, taut and unspoken, as you turned away, nerves rattling inside you. You felt him watching you as you sauntered off, the weight of his gaze burning into your back, the unspoken tension still thick in the air.

Deflect! Deflect! Deflect!

But as you walked away, your heart still pounding, you knew the moment between you wasn’t over. Not really. It lingered, hanging in the air like a storm cloud waiting to break. And you couldn’t help but wonder if next time, you’d have the courage to step into it.

。⋆༺♱༻⋆。

Nick let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding as he watched your denim skirt ride up slightly with each step you took away. He swallowed hard, the familiar pang of frustration settling in his chest. Admiring you from afar had become second nature to him, an unspoken routine he’d never quite managed to shake.

You perplexed him, right down to his core.

Every time he felt he was getting closer to understanding you, to unraveling the mystery of what made you so magnetic—you were gone. Slipping through his fingers just as quickly as you’d come into focus.

It had been that way since Matt and your friend first introduced you all those years ago. At first, he found your quietness cute—a stark contrast to the loud energy of your other friends. But as you started coming around more, he saw there was so much more beneath the surface. The dry wit, the easy charm you showed only to those closest to you, the way you seemed to light up in the right company. And then there was the obvious—he had been attracted to you from the moment he laid eyes on you.

But the more you intrigued him, the further away you seemed to drift, casting him aside without even realizing it. It gnawed at him, deeper than he liked to admit. Nick Folio wasn’t used to this—he could get anyone to open up, to be themselves around him with little effort. But you? You were a challenge he couldn’t crack, and it was driving him crazy.

It baffled him how Matt had convinced you to be roommates in the first place. Living together hadn’t helped his case at all—if anything, it made things worse. Since the moment he’d walked in on you listening to your smut audiobook, he could feel the shift, how you’d started shutting him out. He wasn’t oblivious to the way you avoided him now, keeping your distance, as though that moment had broken some invisible line between you.

But it hadn’t, not for him. If anything, he loved that glimpse of who you were outside the parties and hangouts. Seeing you comfortable, in your own space, high out of your mind, letting your guard down enough to geek out over something you clearly enjoyed.

Did you think it made him see you differently? Did you think that knowing your private little quirks would change how he felt?

If anything, it made perfect sense. A girl like you, attractive, smart, with a mind that clearly wandered far beyond the surface—you were bound to have something like that. Hell, now he understood why your nose was always buried in your Kindle. He’d probably be the same way if he had something that compelling.

He had hoped the blunt he’d offered earlier would serve as an olive branch, something to ease the tension between you. But now, watching you skitter away, retreating from him again, he wasn’t so sure.

“There’s the kingpin,” Noah grinned lazily, coming up beside him clapping him on the shoulder as Matt trailed behind.

Nick tried to muster a smile, but it was clear something was weighing on him, his usual carefree demeanor dulled by the conflict that tugged at him deep inside.

“What’s wrong Folio?” Matt was the first to ask.

“Nothing, just clearing my mind a bit.” He lied.

“Yeah, okay.” Noah snorted, trying to tug the mask on top of his head down. He was clearly tipsy, enjoying himself. “If you don’t want to talk about it, whatever—but I know what will really help clear your mind.” The lazy grin turned sinister.

The drummer merely raised his eyebrow waiting for an answer.

“Manhunt—slasher style.”

。⋆༺♱༻⋆。

Would it really be a slasher-themed birthday party if Noah hadn’t forced the remaining guests into a game of manhunt, despite how dark it was and how most people were borderline drunk? No, only Noah would think this was still a good idea. You didn’t mind, though. It distracted you from your exchange with Nick—finding hiding spots, giggling quietly, getting chased, and chasing your friends around. It felt cathartic, especially in your tipsy, cross-faded state.

Noah was too far gone to establish real ground rules anyway. The only rule was that nobody hid past the brush of the woods, and he was always the seeker. Brush, cabin, shed, backyard—fair game for your large group of friends. It was the third and final round now, and most of you were out of breath, legs aching, too close to rolling an ankle in the dark. The adrenaline was wearing thin, and the nostalgia for childhood games had run its course. You were all gonna feel the aftermath of this in the morning.

“Once you're found, head to the fire pit, pop a squat, and call it quits for the LOVE of god,” Matt groaned, hands on his hips, out of breath.

With all the cabin’s lights off, the vast space was hard to navigate. Maybe calling it a cabin was underselling it. This was a huge luxury lodge, a weekend splurge to comfortably fit the group with several bedrooms and rooms to hide in. You’d found a bedroom on the second floor at the end of the hall, away from everyone else, deciding to hide alone instead of pairing up like some of the others. You didn’t want to change your spot like you had the other two rounds you played outside. This was it, and you’d let whoever come to you to find you.

You weren’t sure who’d claimed the room earlier in the night when everyone arrived, but it didn’t matter now. The large bed in the center had ample space underneath for you to squeeze under. The bed skirt fell perfectly, hiding you completely as you curled up, knees pressed against your chest, mouth against the sleeve of your knitted sweater to stifle any sound.

Your heart pounded as you heard the seekers stomping clumsily through the halls, doors creaking open, followed by screeches of defeat from your friends as they were found. Finally, Noah and Davis's triumphant laughter echoed through the house, growing distant as they led the captured outside.

For a moment, you thought you were safe. You let out the breath you'd been holding, relaxing slightly. The steady thrum of your heartbeat began to slow, and you debated slipping out the back door to claim victory, imagining the disappointed faces of Noah, Davis, and the rest when you emerged triumphant telling them to suck it.

But then you heard it—a single set of footsteps at the end of the hall. You froze. Your pulse roared in your ears as a familiar laugh echoed down the corridor.

“You guys suck at this game!” Nick’s voice rang out, smug and teasing. Faint bickering followed from outside, Noah and Davis shouting back that they were done, ready to drink by the fire.

Nick scoffed. “Fuckin’ amateurs didn’t even check my room. There’s still people hiding!”

You tensed, silently praying, Please, don’t be in his room. Please, don’t let this be his room.

But your luck had run out. You heard the door handle turn with an agonizing slowness, the door creaking open.

“Bryan, I swear, if you’re making out with your girlfriend in my room instead of hiding—” Nick’s voice trailed off as he stepped inside. You could hear his confusion as he scanned the seemingly empty room. It was his room, of course. The one place you’d somehow ended up hiding.

You bit your lip, heart pounding in your chest as he walked around. His footsteps were soft, deliberate. The room was dark, but you could see the faint glow of his phone’s flashlight as he swept it around, peeking under the desk, inside drawers—absurd places no one could possibly fit.

You started to hope he might give up. His footsteps retreated toward the door, and you exhaled softly, relaxing ever so slightly, your body tense from being curled up so tightly.

But then you heard the closet door swing open with a creak. “Got you!” he shouted abruptly, his voice playful. You jumped, your head hitting the wall behind you with a soft thud. You bit down harder on your sleeve to stifle any sound, praying he hadn’t noticed.

The door closed again, and there was a long silence. Then his voice dropped lower, a teasing edge creeping into it.

“I knew there was a little mouse in here.”

Your eyes flew open in shock, blood rushing to your face. No way. Was it just coincidence? Or had he somehow found out—about the pet names in your books, about your... tastes? Did he find your Goodreads somehow?! You screwed your eyes shut tighter, wishing you could disappear.

Suddenly, a warm hand grabbed your ankle and yanked you out from under the bed. You shrieked as you tumbled out, blinking into the blinding light of Nick’s phone. He was doubled over, laughing, thankfully with no Ghostface mask on.

“Where the hell did you get that from?!” you demanded, fed up, voice hushed but furious.

He was still chuckling, genuinely confused. “Get what from?”

“‘Little mouse?’” you hissed, jabbing a finger into his bare chest since he discarded his shirt after the first round. “What the hell is that?”

He raised his hands in surrender, amusement dancing in his eyes. “I don’t know! It just seemed fitting.”

“You didn’t snoop through my bookshelf?” you accused, heart racing for entirely different reasons now.

His brow furrowed. “Why would I go through your bookshelf? Where’s this coming from?”

“You know where!”

“I don’t, though!” His voice softened, growing more serious. “You really think I would go through your stuff?”

You hesitated, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. “I don’t know... you caught me listening to my smut—”

Nick had the audacity to huff a laugh, and it sent your blood boiling all over again.

“It’s not funny, Nick!” You glared at him, horrified by how quickly this night was spiraling out of control. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go tonight.

“It’s not,” he agreed, but his grin remained. “But it kind of is. Because that just confirmed everything I thought.”

You crossed your arms, defensive. “What did you think?”

“That you got weird about me seeing you... be yourself.”

You scoffed. “I did not.” You did.

He said your name quietly, and it made you look at him, caught by the softness in his voice. “I don’t care that you were geeking out over some dirty audiobook. I thought it was cute.”

“I was not.” Your face burned. “And it’s not cute.”

“What would you call it then? Fangirling?”

You grimaced, crossing your arms tighter. “No.”

Nick exhaled, leaning against the desk. “Look, I’m not trying to make this a thing. Relax, okay?”

But relaxing was impossible with him standing there, shirtless, casual like he hadn’t just crawled into your head. He was so nonchalant, while you felt like you were teetering on the edge of something far more dangerous.

Finally, he turned on the lamp in the corner, casting a warm glow over the room. His eyes softened as they met yours, and he gestured to the bed. “Can we sit? I’m not trying to argue, and my legs are tired.”

You stared at him, defiant for a moment longer, before finally sitting on the edge of the bed. He rolled the desk chair up to you, knees nearly brushing, close enough that the warmth of his skin made the air between you thrum.

“You’re a brat, you know that?” he teased, his voice low.

“I’m not a brat,” you muttered, looking down at your lap, “I’m just... embarrassed.”

The silence stretched between you, heavy, until Nick broke it with a sigh. “I said the wrong thing. But I called it cute because... let’s face it, I know you, but I don’t *know* you.”

You glanced up at him through your lashes, his face softer now. The tension in his shoulders had eased, and his eyes held something you couldn’t quite name.

“I could say the same,” you admitted quietly.

“Yeah, but I’m a simple guy.” Chortling to himself. “Half my body shows almost all my special interests.” He gestured to his tattoos, the ones you’d seen countless times but never really looked at until now, trying to avoid finding yet another reason to be drawn to him. “You? You’re a mystery to me. I’ve known you for years, and lived with you for months, but I’ve never seen you just... let your guard down. Sure, in rare passing moments that I wished I could see more of, because I love seeing you light up when you talk.”

Your heart twisted at his words, warmth creeping up your chest, but before you could respond, he added, teasing, “Now I know you’re the quiet girl who secretly geeks out over porn—”

“Nick!” You groaned, immediately burying your face in your hands, the heat on your cheeks unbearable.

Nick laughed softly, tugging your hands away from your face, his grip warm and grounding as his thumbs traced gentle patterns over your knuckles. "Relax, relax, it's our secret," he murmured, his voice softening into something almost tender.

Your heart raced, pulse quickening as the air between you thickened with unspoken tension. His laughter faded into a quiet intensity, and for a moment, the space between you felt charged, like you were both standing at the edge of something neither of you had fully acknowledged yet.

"I like it... that we have a secret just between us," he confessed, his voice quiet and uncertain, as if he wasn't sure how you'd react.

His words hung in the air, and you froze for a beat, the weight of them sinking in and nearly taking your breath away. When you looked up at him, his brown eyes-usually playful-were filled with something deeper.

There was a warmth there, an affection that made your stomach flip as you watched him nervously lick his lips.

Your face felt hot, and you weren't used to being in such an intimate moment with him, your hands still held in his. But despite the closeness, you weren't uncomfortable. If anything, you realized how close the two of you actually were when his eyes dropped to your lips, and your pulse fluttered even faster.

When he started to lean in, your body moved instinctively, meeting him halfway. His lips brushed against yours-soft, tentative, and a little chapped from the night's activities, but sweeter than you could have imagined. The faint taste of jungle juice lingered on both your mouths, and his hands stayed gently on yours, as if he was afraid to push further.

Hesitant, like he thought you'd pull away any second.

But you didn't want to run this time.

The kiss, as surprising as it was, had a way of grounding you-settling the storm of thoughts and emotions swirling in your mind.

You found yourself pulling your hands free from his and sliding one up to the nape of his neck, your fingers grazing the buzzed part of his hair, while the other rested on his shoulder, gently tugging him closer. Your touch seemed to ease his hesitation, and he responded with a firmer grip on your waist, his hands warm against your skin as he deepened the kiss.

The tension of the past weeks, all the uncertainty and confusion, melted away in his touch. His lips fit perfectly against yours, and as he grew more confident, the kiss became less restrained, his hand gripping your waist tighter as he gently guided you back onto the mattress. You both smiled into the kiss, the weight of his body pressing down on you, though he propped an arm by your head to keep from crushing you entirely.

In that moment, with the world outside fading away, you were in a kind of bliss you hadn't felt in so long. The feel of his lips, his warmth, the way his tongue softly brushed against yours-it was all-consuming, and you could have stayed there all night, wrapped up in him.

"Did Y/N kill you, Nick?!" Noah's drunken laughter rang through the wooden door, followed by the sound of Davis and one of your friends giggling along with him. The sudden intrusion startled you both, and you froze, your breath catching as the door handle rattled.

Nick groaned quietly, reluctantly pulling away from you, the absence of his touch making you ache in a way you hadn't expected. You quickly sat up, trying to smooth your hair and fix your sweater, your cheeks still flushed as you glanced over at him. He, on the other hand, seemed unbothered, walking casually to the desk to grab the half-smoked blunt from earlier before making his way to the door.

"We were just deciding if we wanted to finish this," Nick said coolly, holding up the blunt as he opened the door, playing it off like the two of you hadn't been making out just moments ago. His calm demeanor caught you off guard, while you were sure guilt was written all over your face-your hair messy, your cheeks still warm, and your sweater slightly askew as much as you made yourself presentable.

Your friend peered over Nick's shoulder with a playful smirk, narrowing her eyes at you.

"Without us? How rude. You're now officially obligated to share-let's go."

Nick shot you a sheepish smile before offering his hand, extending it toward you as the others started to head back down the hall, unaware of what had just transpired between the two of you.

You hesitated for a second, your heart still racing, before taking his hand and letting him pull you to your feet. The moment might have been interrupted, but the charged energy between you was far from gone.

The universe did have a painfully sick sense of humor after all.

。⋆༺♱༻⋆。

A/n: pls lmk your thoughts as writing this I had so many ideas of how I wanted this to go, and the ending was weaker than intended but this is what I got after being up for over 24 hours 🤷🏼‍♀️ but I will be writing a part two 👹

#nick folio x reader #nick folio fic #nick folio 🍯#bad omens x reader #bad omens fic #nick folio #k8e writes #nick folio fanfiction #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens imagine #nick folio imagine #nick folio blurb

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five-thousand-loaves-of-bread · 1 month ago

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yea some of my support needs only feel right ask paid carer or family do but think many people who not depend on other people care every day not understand (or refuse to) how much community & community care & mutual aid go into many of our lives—sometimes our community our friends our support system help us willingly, or bridge gap inaccessible Official services can’t/don’t provide, n we help our friends n community back willingly.

when care needs not met my friends—willingly—help out they help look out for wheelchair accessibility feature they help me call doctors n other places that hang up on me without word because mechanical AAC voice they help me move n pack they help pick what clothes good for weather they help with back zippers n buttons when lose my they help me use microwave they drive me they help with ER times they look after me when go out n they still look after me even now thousands miles apart. n am look after them in my ways we share joy share sadness share anger when go through traumatic times we go through together am look after their access needs n thru their medical episodes n let them indefinitely borrow my mobility aids am not need anymore n let them put their stuff on my wheelchair. because we friends n it what friends do n we build our own lil queer trans disabled communities n future with authentic trust n care n mutual aid. they not my PCA it not same n anyone can easily see that fact but friends will be just as insulted as me if people devalue their efforts just because of that.

our care needs not just a service it not just transactions we not just consumers of service. many people who not depend on other people care every day not understand, or refuse understand, or even do understand but not care abt it because it nothing do with them, that there so much barriers to Official personal care attendants, that be our level of disability not include manifest PCA into thin air as symptom, that many of us simply not have them - it should not be privilege to have basic care but it be force that way.

it make sense that [people who do understand (they may even work in disability field) surface level of PCA process n how hard it be but not care abt it because it nothing do with them or their role] not understand [how much mutual & community care go into our lives]. because understand that mean they first need care abt us n see us as important n entangled part of their own community, that community members should help other community members.

people who not depend on other people care go on n on about appropriate-ness n liability (to them) n keeping all other people who not depend on other people safe protect them first n foremost before us, so quick to lecture us “educate” us as if we not live this life, that real life a lil more complicated than what they learn in textbook or “most classic case” or laws—

—send message of. we not care abt what happen to you, we not going help. but moment our community of people who not need other people care need be in your direction we need make us safe by make your life hard. nevermind that you probably already done background checks n qualification check (if there any because… well that another post maybe), or very real reason why it not done (something abt urgency of need every single day basic needs care to physically not die). nevermind that, if harm ever do happen, then.. idk… person they routinely see naked, hold power over, n can literally easily physical overpower, may be first under harm.

but our carer our own n so their mistake our own—literal adult with their own minds n motivation n upbringing who our lives depend on who hold power over us. no one protects us from what may come from that but everyone scream when there even chance others mayyy be uncomfortable.

#loaf screm #severely disabled #severe disability #high support needs #medium support needs #mid support needs #disabled #actually disabled #cpunk #cripplepunk #cripple punk #actually autistic #actuallyautistic #< relevant to both #long post

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sugar-petals · 1 month ago

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since hybe keeps on mumbling how they don’t exactly know when to bring back bangtan because quote “BTS' share of overall revenue is not likely to be as high as in the past” and they will significantly deprioritze them (silly, delusional, eyeroll-worthy, oblivious, rude, greedy, foolish, the audacity: a damn rennaissance is about to happen! the whole fandom is emerging from the woodwork ffs), we need to take matters in our own hands getting everyone on board, enjoying what’s about to happen, and hype this calm before the very exciting storm up. in other words: silence, corporation!

the ones that give and gave you all that money are talking now. we’re all still here! it doesn’t matter how much BTS will make because it would always suffice to keep them going (otherwise, they’d be long disbanded), nor is it of concern how old they are, what the trends may be, anything. it matters that they are back. full stop! as the phenomenon they are, and as friends, artists, cultural forces, support systems, as people. military is hard! plus, and that seems to be the good ole main concern: it even doesn’t matter how popular anyone else is by that time in 2025. or later because companies can mess anything up. man... we gotta stick together.

good for that other group or artist if things are happening for them. most idols barely make a living and have to repay huge debts. and besides: if, for instance, chungha drops a viral quality banger one week before BTS returns like it’s her fantastic baby i will do what? rejoice! because holy shit, two cool new songs! and hybe will still make cash anyway, as even more eyes are on the industry. and more old and new fans gather. who would have thought! even if BTS’ main market rivals perform amazingly: imagine how huge and buzzing the award shows and charts and switching on the speakers will be. this will be like spring.

if bts not being on top is the worry — uh, how unrealistic — i guess hybe wants to insult everyone in this equation (and rage bait?!), even themselves: hilariously weak stuff right there. the golden eras of k-pop and music generally were marked by several great, bustling groups being excellent parallel to another anyway, with several contrasting trends emerging simultaneously. the bland eras had monopolies, a uniform look, meh production vibes, and nothing major happening 90% of the time, and the overall quality dragging everyone down, down, down. that’s not what we want!

i want this thing blowing up like every group releases their gangnam style on crack all at once. my feed spammed with shiny thumbnails, fan cams, announcements, shows, reactions, like an LSD trip. any groups and solo artists dropping and bumping their hits nonstop ring ding dong style until the fans collapse from excitement and not keeping up. i want mutuals on my dash yelling “WHAT... I MISSED /THIS/ WHILE I SLEPT?!!” constantly again! period! i want my brain melting from all the viral dance breaks and catchy rap parts and insane choreography and new hair colors and the wildest ever beats. come at me! i think that fans can handle being blasted with fun music and novelty from all directions 😉

cause, pay attention hybe honey, that’s what liking music is all about. even if fans prefer one artist/group over the other. yep, it is possible. who wouldn’t have a good time if all the big groups went off: there’s something furiously cool happening for everyone! a good kpop generation has a firework of big, BIG releases in a short(er) period of time, without overworking idols of course. and that’s what we need now, awakening from the slumber. bts’ military discharge is the starting signal for exactly that. hybe doesn’t know who they’re handling. they should be screaming “omg let’s gooo, look at them” the loudest! this shit is like the one piece time skip, hello?

i can’t believe penny pinching is still supposed to be the problem. do they even know which group they’re talking about? just ludicrous. these 7 guys had and always have the midas touch. even yoongi who couldn’t even afford a single proper meal or the bus home from bighit is now worth a heavy 50 million bucks. there is no sense in fearing they’ll tank financially. hybe has zero trust and doesn’t know the fandom dynamics at all. as soon as jungkook even does as much as tie his hair back we are activated like purple sleeper agents.

even if bts totally fumbles and disappoints with the most awful regressive slop in history, a boring album, lost their spark, go through media turmoil, whatever, unless some producer totally goes off the rails and copies someone else word by word and note by note, it would be impossible not to pay attention to them anyway. i repeat. popularity and increasing revenue are never an issue with them. raise your hand, who thinks RM will greenlight a song that only two people enjoy and click on? hybe acts like the stadiums will be empty. does their CFO have amnesia? if the oasis reunion sells out in one hour, can you imagine what’s going to happen here?

i also don’t buy that they need a year’s prep time. far 2026 comeback?! many idols only took 2-3 months after military discharge. both sides are full of happy anticipation, idols and fans. yes — coordination, rehearsing, plans, tour, getting used to it all again, hair growing back, not rushing, subunits, hyyh anniversary, rest, military is an abrasive 24/7 job, other things also need organizing, i get it. but hell, yoongi once said he comes up with one or two songs each day. his head must be brewing with stuff that bts can drop in some considerable time, and i’m not being avaricious here. not to mention that namjoon probably has 10 poetry books worth of lyrics written in the meantime and will not hesitate to bring his writings to the table.

if i was jimin my dancing feet would be dying to move in sync with everyone else sooner or later. i’d drop whatever content i wanted and enjoy being back. the audience reaction boost alone will accelerate everything, it might even be scary how much of a deal this will be. but basking in the early joy is the topic now! i want people theorizing like mad what’s gonna happen lmao, that’s the most fun! so let’s get this party started. we’re gearing up, there’s no stopping army anyway once it all gets going. and we’re cooking with imagination, too.

imagine a lead song that’s catchy like butter, lyrically hyped-up like the cyphers, dynamite-level impactful, a full-on banger like not today, adrenaline-laden like fire, and colorful like DNA. i’m not asking for too much, they’ve done it before. they are bts. it all comes down to who’s (co-)producing. that’s what i’m worried about. so my wish producer or force behind the scenes if hybe goes the american way (of course they will) would be someone pharell-esque. upbeat, refreshing, it has to match bts’ golden theme thread throughout their career. i wouldn’t mind the weeknd for a more melancholic B-side.

it doesn’t have to be completely ice cream bubble gum at all, it could be anything in fact, and the new artistic direction remains to be seen later. the curiosity is one of the best parts. let’s focus on that! my feeling is that they slightly pick up where they left off, tie loose ends together, reprise their best elements as a tangent, and then present a whole new thing immediately. they’ve always been referencing with their work while innovating, this will be no different. yeah, the task of a whole new song/album carrying on the story is pretty difficult. settling in, too. i see why hybe thinks its risky, sure. i’d feel the pressure and required effort, too. but it’s bts! whatever they are cooking up will be of interest. i rest my case, this is going to be huge.

#blowing off steam like the ghost of daechwita just possessed me #bts #bangtan #bts comeback #military discharge #namjoon #jungkook #yoongi #jin #jimin #taehyung #j-hope #hoseok #k-pop #kpop #hybe #i'm so curious what's awaiting us!! sound off in the comments what you think the concept will be

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curiousochako · 15 days ago

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What did Horikoshi mean by “Please read Manga Volume 42 and use your own imagination for that answer.” A importance thread

During the events of chapter 431 Katsuki and Izuku had the discussion back in the car scene where there is an importance on what it means to have people that are special to you. Katsuki emphasize to Izuku that it’s important to not give everyone special treatment because then the meaning itself dosen’t carry much weight if you view everyone the same way. He indirectly tells him to do an internal dive into his own heart to figure out if he has someone he views as special.

Shortly after that scene we then cut to the class 1A reunion where everyone gathers together to celebrate Shoto becoming the number two hero on the hero rankings. After the dating conversation gets brought up by Ashido which it then gets revealed to the reader that Kuroiro and Kinoko from class 1B began dating and shortly after that we get Kaminari and Jiro joking to everyone on how they did not begin dating.

Then we get Deku’s internal thoughts where he begins to question if there is a side of himself that he has not discovered (which chapter 431 directs the reader to the realization that romance was something he never explored for himself). Bakugo’s quote on how “Giving special treatment to everyone means that no one is really special to you”. Starts to play a role when Izuku is staring at Ochaco smiling and beginning to come to that conclusion that he indeed is in love with her.

Once more Deku thinks back to the conversation that he has with Bakugo after class 1A decides to go home for the night. We then get Ochaco’s perspective of her thinking back to some of the memories she had recalling her own feelings to Izuku. Here we are shown that it isn’t only Izuku who wanted a chance to talk to Ochaco more then usual as she is going through similar thoughts on the matter.

It’s important to keep in mind that Ochaco wasn’t the first one to confess but it was Deku as he was the one who ran all the way to find her. Deku says “I really want to talk to you, Uraraka. And not just today. From now on to” this is his way of confessing that he has fallen in love with her and wants to be in her life for as long as they live. Horikoshi wrote Izuku’s confession subtly but in a way that makes it clear that the answer to whether they do end up together is through his words. Ochaco’s expression also says it all.

Finally we reach this famous panel of Izuku and Ochaco looking directly at each other after Toga gives her speech about wanting Ochaco to live a life as she directly says to her “I’ve lived exactly the way I wanted to. And since I loved you so much, Ochaco, my wish is for you to live exactly like you want to!” the conversation Ochaco has with Toga is importance because she has holded on to the pain of not being able to save Toga from death and we see that Toga is helping Ochaco be more open and honest with her feelings which directly ties into her arc about not suppressing her feelings.

The last thing Ochaco says to Izuku on the speech he gave is that she feels the same way as he does about wanting to get closer.

The original question that led to Horikoshi’s answer asked “Did Ochaco finally confess her feelings to Deku? and with everything that has been presented in chapter 431 the only part of the chapter he is telling reader to imagine is Ochaco’s return confess to Deku since the chapter ends with them mutually agreeing that they feel the same way. It’s heavily implied that she most likely opened up more to Izuku about her feelings after the famous hand holding panel on the last page of the manga. Which is more then likely what Horikoshi was referring to and fans using their imaginations to piece together the answer to the question.

#bnha #my hero academia #izuocha #mha #ochaco uraraka #izuku x ochaco #midoriya izuku #bakugo katsuki #toga himiko #Izuocha analysis #Izuocha meta #kohei horikoshi #dekuocha #dekuchaco #dekuchako #ochadeku #dekuraka #bnha manga spoilers

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grim333z · 2 months ago

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hey mutual TWD fic writer!! hehehe..heh (deranged)

I too have an unhealthy obsession with TWD, and with writing fics…and with your fics (oneshots, basically).

I was wondering if you could do something where the reader saves Carl from some kinda scary situation (obviously x reader.) Every fic is always him protecting them, and he seriously needs some protection. Especially after all he’s been through. :(

Bonus points if the reader used to be someone Carl didn’t trust, but is now redeemed!

So interested in your response, lmk what you think. :3

[I THINK THIS IS SOMEWHAT ALONG THOSE LINES? lmk how I could make this better because I swear my writing has gotten a bit rusty]

NFWMB~

Carl x gn!reader

Warnings: Panic attack, SA mention, twd stuff. ANGST.

The weirdly sickly sweet sent of rot and the guttural moans of the undead linger, far off in the distance. The walls seem to get more constricting as you fumble your way around the cold warehouse, the shelves somehow still untouched after all these years stretch up to the ceiling.

You'd followed the usual scavenging protocol. Get to the location. Split up in groups of two or three until someone finds whatever shit you're looking for. in and out. Easy, you'd done plenty of these before.

However, you wound up partnered with Carl. He'd never seemed the most...trusting of you. He had any right, too. He'd seen you on the opposite side of those chain link fences, stood with a rifle in hand beside the governor. It's not easy to just...stop, seeing someone as a threat even this long after . And he had any reason to be weary, growing up surrounded by nothing but death, facing not just the dead but the living.

The cold chipped-black painted torch weighs heavy in your hand, same as each weapon strapped firmly hugging your hips. Your eyes scan the sun-faded text on each box. The run was for solar panel parts. It was really just reading boxes until you found the one labelled with just what you needed.

You'd sent Carl to the other side of the room, the intention to meet in the middle, or call out if you found what you were looking for, splitting up usually wasn't the best idea, however he could handle his shit and you could handle yours.

So far, its going well...minimal, walkers, a few who'd strayed in over the years, found themselves unable to get out. Their starved flesh a chore to move as they reach out to you from the floor. You almost pity them. For a moment, they almost look like a young child reaching out for its mother. Before you remember they're bitey little fuckers who want nothing more to chew you up like a rotisserie chicken.

The gentle quiet beat of two feet ring from the other side of the room as Carl makes his way around, a pause in the rhythm every now and again as he pauses to inspect the labels on the boxes.

You pull yourself back on task, Inspecting each box. Eugene had been intensely specific on what he needed, giving a detailed briefing on what to exactly to look for, down too the plastic needed to make the equipment he needed.

You're pulled from your thoughts by the shuffle of feet growing louder and closer. The growls followed, visceral sounds falling from rotting vocal chords. Your fingers fiddle down in the general direction of your holster, feeling for the cold metal in the darkness while trying to simultaneously watch out for anything heading in your direction.

Your heavily worn fingertips locate the smooth of the handle, slipping it out into your grip, holding it out. Change of plans: The equipment could wait because the walkers quite simply wouldn't.

You headed in Carl's direction. His foot steps still following their previous calm rhythm.

Though you pick up the pace at the sudden pause... there wasn't a struggle, at least it didn't sound like there was. The growls grow louder and the shuffling closer...You can almost smell the rot, see the teeth coming at you, snarling and smelling like iron, oozing with the sweet crimson of the poor soul it had last mutilated.

A muffled yelp rings from where the footsteps had once been, followed by the heavy thump of what you can only assume to have been Carl hitting the floor. You swiftly turn the corner to see him narrowly avoiding the snapping jaws of two walkers, propping his knee up to keep one at bay, his arms keeping the second one away, his eyes dart around at the group of nearly two dozen dead grows ever closer, knowing if he lets one sound slip they'd swarm.

You swing into action, swiftly yanking your smooth heavily worn bowie knife from its sheath, and plunging the sharp metal blade into the weirdly soft flesh of the walker constricting the boy. You kick the now limp body away from him, pulling him up and away from the other walker, holding him up. He lets out a yelp fighting with everything in him to get away from you, "Don't fucking touch me" Falls from his mouth in-between deep, heavy breaths. "Carl, be quiet." You snap, looking around for somewhere clear enough to wait out the horde. "Stop, let go." He pants, squirming in your grip. "Shut up, you're practically fucking begging them to eat us alive." You snarl, the words coming -out whispered yet firm, now was not the time to grow a trusting relationship with him, your main goal to simply get the two of you out still breathing. "Please... just let me-" Your hand finds its way to his mouth, partly as self preservation, he was gonna get the both of you killed, it wasn't firm or constricting his breathing just enough to get him to shut the fuck up while you look around for somewhere to hide, deciding you'd much rather opt for the flight part of fight or flight.

Your gaze lands on a door, a heavily sun-faded and rusted sign reading staff only. You drag the two of you in, shutting the door behind you. The rooms even smaller, darker and claustrophobic than the last. Carl slumps down beside a bucket and mop, drawing his knees to his chest as it rises and falls fast and aggressively and you can see the tears threatening to fall from his eyes as he looks at you eyes wide. "Are you bit?" You question noting his unusually sweaty completion and the way his head has fallen limp against the cold wall behind him. He shakes his head, letting it drop onto his knees, curling up into himself, while trying to be as far away from you as possible.

His heavy panicked breaths find themselves morphing into ragged sobs, "shit..." You whisper, slipping down to the floor, the cold painted wood of the door pressed up against your back. "I- Carl..." You whisper, you voice and gaze both growing softer, gentler as you look at him, curled up in a trembling little heap across from you. He says nothing in response, each sob growing drier and more breathy. "I needed to... get us out of there." You whisper, knowing your feeble attempts at comforting him were more than likely going to fall short.

He responds via weak nods, he knows Why you did what you did and part of him feels an overwhelming guilt for reacting in this way, for his lack of gratefulness.

"I didn't think, Carl. I didn't- I didn’t realise. I just wanted to get somewhere safe." Each word is said hesitant, filled to the brim with caution, like you werent entirely sure if your words would help or make it ten times worse.

"I know." He croaks, the words small and shakey as they escape his lips. Your eyebrows curl in part confusion and surprise, you'd been convinced he'd never trust you, that this was it, every atempt you'd made to somehow get his trust had gone completely out the window, hell, you'd even started to accept it,somewhat.

"You know?" You whisper watching his head lift slightly, glancing at you in the darkness. He nods, trying to blink away the last of the tears, his breaths less fast and panicked...now more deep and heavy, more like he's trying to ground himself with them.

"S'ok...you didn't realise" He whispers, stammering through each word. "im sorry..." is all you can manage to say, your eyes laced with uncertainty and almost fear, unsure if you should look at him. He doesn't say anything, just looking at you silently from across the room.

"Are you hurt...?" You question, and you can faintly see the way his brow twists in confusion at the sudden change in topic, you'd been so caught up in fumbling an apology that you hadnt even thought to check him for any injures. "I didn't...hurt you? Did I?". His gaze softens gently at the genuine care in your words, a vast difference from the speed and lack of care tangled into your words, he knew it now that in all reality it was fear talking. "M'okay." He mumbles. You find yourself scooting over too his side of the room, whether to try and comfort him, or too take a look for yourself, you didn't know.

"I'm fine, Promise." He huffs, and you let out a breath you hadnt even realised you were holding. Slumping down against the cold wall, looking at the small boy beside you.

"If you wanna hate me. I get it." You whisper, trying to convince yourself you'd be okay with it even after all the time spent trying to gain even a hint of trust with him. "I don't." Hums, looking at you.

#the walking dead #carl grimes #carl twd #chandler riggs #the walking dead carl #twd carl grimes #carl grimes x f!reader #carl grimes x gn!reader #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes angst #carl grimes fluff

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thedeviltohisangel · 1 month ago

Text

Over the Handlebars//Fools Rush In

a/n: a direct continuation to part 1 which can be found in my pinned post! thank you for the love and support on part 1! the rest of this may or may not be chronological so if you have any requests for these two, please send them my way. xoxo

Dr. Robby has decided that he cannot go on with his life if he thinks there is even a chance of him and Dr. Larson being more than an attending and a resident. So one night on the roof, he tells her just that. But his bullshit is more transparent than he thinks.

The cold bit into her skin but she enjoyed it. The way it burns through her nose and into her lungs and spread to fill the emptiness of her chest. Everything felt better with a little fresh air. Her headache was gone. Her nausea was settling. Her blood was pumping again. She had made it through the shift. And she could make it home to her bed, too.

“It’s a little bit cold out here tonight, isn’t it?” Charlie didn’t jump in surprise because she had been expecting him. The first day she was at PTMC, she found herself on the roof after shift. And he had been there too. He had been standing at the edge and contemplating the night sky and she had silently sat against the HVAC unit. Not a word was said between them. It wasn’t the time or the place to talk about the night they had spent together. Nor did it feel appropriate to rehash any of the cases they had worked on together all day. They were content to just simply be.

“Feels good. I think my cheeks have been flushed for the last hour.” Robby knew they had been because had been watching her. Today he had watched her expertly reduce a hip, intubate a patient without a camera to guide her and successfully remove a battery from a little boy’s nose. He had watched her because he found it impossible to look away from her.

“Here, I don’t need my newest resident getting a fever.” It felt strangely intimate to watch him shed his hoodie and offer it to her. To see the flash of ink on his biceps that was normally hidden by the sleeve of his scrubs.

“Thank you.” She pulled the collar to her nose as subtly yet shamelessly as possible. The scent of him lingered and wrapped around her like a blanket of safety and warmth. She remembered the feeling of being in his arms, enveloped in his very essence. This was as close to getting that back as she was ever going to get. “And I also don’t just mean for the hoodie. For accepting my application midway through the traditional term.” Robby shrugged.

“Your resume was the most diverse I’ve seen. A perfect fit for an emergency department, especially one as busy as ours. I knew you’d be an asset to our team.”

“My dad he…he lives in a trailer park on the outskirts of the city. He needs someone to take care of him so…” Charlie wasn’t sure why she was sharing the reasoning behind her transfer. And why she sounded so embarrassed to be discussing her father’s living situation.

“He’s very lucky to have you,” he answered. He leaned his elbows onto the barrier so he could look up at her and have unfettered views of her face. Watching her work downstairs was one thing but admiring her in the moonlight was another thing entirely. He could be convinced that Artemis was jealous. “I did come up here and interrupt your moment of peace and privacy for a reason.”

“Not interrupting,” she furrowed her brow, “I like our happenstance mutual silence on the roof.” She was beginning to look forward to it even.

“I wanted to apologize for the first day. When Dr. Mohan introduced us and I was other than welcoming.” That had been days ago. Almost two weeks. Had he been agonizing over his words for that long?

“I didn’t think you were. No need for an apology.”

“No, I implied that the night we actually met was one we should pretend never happened. And I shouldn’t have done that. In order to be colleagues and for me to be your attending, we should clear the air.” Charlie blinked and consciously worked to close her mouth that was falling agape.

“It was just two adults enjoying a night at a bar. That’s all, right?” So maybe her voice faded to a whisper as she lost the strength to say the words she didn’t believe at all. And maybe they made her throat raw with the way she had to claw them from within. If that was what he needed to hear in order to reconcile his own feelings, she would find a way to say it. She had to find a way to get over her desire to have both. The career path she had chosen did not leave any room for anything else. And certainly not with someone who clearly didn’t want her.

“It was…nice. And under different circumstances, maybe-”

“Please don’t.” She couldn’t stomach the idea of the words that were poised to come next. Some version of a speech on timing and responsibility. It was the last thing she needed echoing around in her mind. “I should go. Let you have your turn up here.” Charlie knew she would never be coming back to this roof again.

She nearly tore the sleeves from his hoodie with the ferocity she used ripping it from her body, pushing it into his chest with a little more force than necessary. “Have a good night, Dr. Robby.” He winced at her tone but didn’t try to stop her as she turned and walked through the door that led back into the hospital.

That wasn’t how he had wanted the conversation to go. He had hoped he would be able to find a tactful balance between keeping things professional and conveying how he had truly enjoyed the few hours they spent together that night. Robby had been successful at neither of those goals. And instead he was just left wondering how he was supposed to fix something he wasn’t meant to want in the first place.

----

Jack had taken to lingering around the ED a little bit longer when it came time to doing his shift change with Robby. Not because he missed his friend and was feeling sentimental, he would never admit if he was, but because he was endlessly intrigued by the way he looked at the newest resident on his shift. Dr. Larson. She was beautiful and smart and had seemingly befriended everyone who worked in the Pitt. Except for her attending physician.

Abbot had noticed the way Robby’s eyes tracked her every movement. The way he spoke to her a little softer or got to her a little quicker when she was asking for his advice on something. It wasn’t hard for him to deduce that maybe his brother in arms had a little crush on the young woman. It couldn’t hurt to play a little game and find out.

“How’re the residents holding up on day shift? Any of them still smiling?” Jack asked as he mindlessly clicked through the charts on the computer to make sure nothing needed his signature before he departed.

“They seem good. Nothing for me to be concerned about.” But he wasn’t looking at Jack when he responded. He was looking at Charlie.

“What about the transfer? What’s her deal?”

“Why all the questions?” Robby laughed with a scratch to the back of his neck. He reached for an iPad and began to scroll through pharmacy stock numbers to avoid the line of questioning from his friend.

“Just curious if you think she’d want to get coffee with me is all.” Bingo. It had the exact effect that Jack had been hoping for. Robby’s eyes were snapping up to him and drilling into pinpoint lasers as they zeroed in on the target. He looked more sniper than doctor.

“Since when do you…Were you really wanting to…I don’t think-” There was no version of this sentence he could finish that didn’t end in Abbot knowing exactly the forecast of the storm raging inside of him. But Robby couldn’t ignore the jealousy that spiked under his skin with the mere implication of Charlie spending time with someone in any way close to the time they had spent together the other night.

Jack merely grinned that wicked smile that told you the feats he was capable of. “Does Dana know?”

“There is nothing to know.” Robby blindly reached for a second iPad and clicked on the first chart he saw, broken finger from a fight with a filing cabinet, and immediately picked it as his first consult of the shift.

“She’ll see it in your eyes even if you don’t mention it. Just weigh which option is worse,” Jack smirked as he finished packing away his backpack and zipped it tight. “Look, I know after your last two relationships, you’re a little bit gun shy. And I know you had a good night with that woman at the bar last week but you may never see her again. It’s no use lingering-”

Robby swears he didn’t mean for anything to flash across his eyes. Whether it was a look of understanding, a look of shut the fuck up or a look of agony he wasn’t sure. Either way, Abbot, the insightful fuck, took it upon himself to interrupt what that look meant. And it stopped him right in his tracks with the most devilish grin that had ever been worn since the fallen angel himself. “Dr. Larson is the fucking woman from the bar.”

“I never said that.”

“Your eyes did.” The iPad went back into the charging stand and Robby offered Jack his full attention. “Please tell me you’re gonna fucking do something about it,” Jack asked, his voice dropping to whisper. He had learned about the night Robby had with Charlie on an early morning while on the roof. As they often did, Jack was contemplating the value of that last inch of concrete before the wide open air and his friend had shown to remind him why a step backwards wasn’t always a bad thing. And Robby had talked about that night. How he had seen a beautiful woman and just wanted to get a closer look. And how getting closer had made him want to hear her voice. And how hearing her voice had made him want to learn her name and so on until he was branding his name to the skin of her neck and seeking salvation in the way she said it back.

It was to remind his friend, and himself, that for all they had been through there was still something within them others could see. It hadn’t mattered to Charlie that he was a doctor because she hadn’t even known. She had seen him and wanted him just as he had her. His broken pieces weren’t worn on his sleeve, warding away strangers with their jagged edges the way Robby had convinced himself they were. And even if they were, she had grabbed his hand and squeezed tight in spite of the potential for pain.

One second of your life could hold more feeling than all the others combined. And Robby had told Jack that in those seconds with Charlie, he had learned to love the companionship of another person again. Learned to love the feeling of eyes breaking down walls. Learned the world was still full of laughter and smiles and gasps and moans that were worth eliciting and exploring and reveling in.

“I can’t. She has her whole life ahead of her. It would be a reputation that followed her everywhere.”

“Already assuming she’s leaving, are we?” Abbot slung his bag over his shoulder. “Guess I’ll ask her about that coffee.”

----

Charlie rolled her neck as she tried to focus on the words in front of her. It was new study on different treatment options for septic shock but she was having trouble preventing the words from blurring together.

“What are you doing here? Shift ended almost an hour ago.” Robby had walked by the lounge once and restrained himself to a quick glance at her. But then the second time he had indulged a little bit further. Noticing the way she tapped her pen to her mouth. The way her mouth quirked to the side to blow a strand of hair away from her face. The huff of frustration as she underlined a particular sentence. He could find peace just watching her like this. He could be settled. Which is why he had to disrupt it.

“Well, in the divorce, I figured you would win custody of the roof so I chose a different spot.” It was impossible for her to head straight home from work. She needed time to decompress and the walk wasn’t nearly long enough for that. The silent evenings overlooking the city with Michael as comfort had done exactly the trick. But after their last conversation, she figured they weren’t meant to happen anymore.

“If that was how that came across, I didn’t mean it. I don’t have full custody of the roof. You can still have visitation rights.” She smiled at him and he took a chance by pulling out the chair next to her and taking a seat.

“Duly noted.” Charlie turned to face him and he could see the exhaustion settling into her face. Her beautiful, soft, perfect face. His arm moved to rest on the back of her chair and ached to move closer but he fought the desire. This was pushing a boundary close enough. Fo fuck’s sake he had been the one to ask for space and distance. The one who told her their night together had meant nothing. He had to back up his words with actions or he’d be trapped in the what ifs forever.

“I’ll see you on Monday?” he whispered, low and slow. In a way that her spine tingling and toes curling. And she’ll blame the exhaustion when she replays this moment in her head over and over again later. But just because he said their night together never happened doesn’t make it true.

Her fingertips landed on the apple of his cheek and she smoothed them down over his beard with a reverence he’d only see at Temple. Like he was worth a damn. Worth something sacred. Worth risking salvation to touch. “Not if I see you first,” she whispered back. She smiled, not moving her hand, and he smiled back. There was something about sharing a burden that made everything brighter. There was something about that light guiding the way towards something greater. And there was something great about seeing a path to happiness. It was just the thorns along the way that made him flinch.

#the pitt #the pitt hbo #the pitt x oc #the pitt fanfiction #dr. robby #michael robinavitch #dr robby x oc #michael robinavitch x oc #noah wyle #dr. robby x oc #jack abbot #jack abbott

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zorrasucia · 1 year ago

Text

Teach Me Tonight - Part 7

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Deleted Scene] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] Part 7: [Deleted Scene] [Part 8]

Reader x Carmy Berzatto (The Bear FX)

Rating: Explicit (3k)

Tags: Smut, Set sometime after the opening of The Bear, Porn with a little plot, Virgin!Carmy, Fluff, Miscommunication, Angry Sex, Nightmares, Domesticity, Morning Sex, Mutual Masturbation, Both Carmy and Reader have a bit of a praise kink

Summary:

Glimpses of every day life and sharing an apartment with Carmy.

"I'm sorry, okay? I am! I won't use your ingredients without asking- just- please calm the fuck down!"

Your small argument from closing time had escalated on the way home to the point where you were screaming at each other by the time you slammed the apartment door behind you and followed Carmy to the bedroom. You had fought before, of course you had. But this was probably the worst one so far.

Carmy stood on the opposite corner of the room, hands on his hips, breathing heavily.

"Do you know how fucking expensive imported black garlic is?"

"I don't, but I have the feeling you're going to tell me," you spat, petty, the whole sentence leaving a bitter taste inside your mouth. You backtracked."I'm sorry. I'll pay for it, okay?" you tried to appease him even as your blood was boiling. "Listen, when I moved in, I was ready to make some compromises. I downsized my closet, I sold some furniture-"

"I didn't ask you to do any of that," Carmy interrupted you.

"Carm," you gave him a stern look. "I'm only saying that you could be more understanding about shit like this. We share the fridge and the pantry. I'm sorry I assumed I could use the stuff inside without asking, it will not happen again," you repeated, then inhaled deeply. "Just- I can't help feeling this isn't about that."

Carmy looked red in the face, angry like you had only seen him inside the kitchen, pacing and flexing his fingers. You couldn't believe he was actually losing his shit so severely over a steak and some garlic - even if it was a super expensive steak and black garlic.

He looked at the ceiling. "It is about you touching my shit without asking. It is about you leaving your things on the kitchen table when I need it to work-" he clenched his jaw. "I'm sick and tired of not knowing where anything is in my own fucking apartment!"

You had organized the closet to fit your stuff, and put Carmy's vintage denim and your bigger dresses in storage. You still had to get a desk for your sewing machine and work stuff, in the meantime it had stayed on the kitchen table, which, in your defense, had remained unused for most of your stay.

"Why didn't you say anything?" you asked in exasperation. "I've been living here for three weeks! You could have said something instead of bottling it up until it was-" you gestured vaguely in his direction, "whatever this is!"

"I like you being here, I didn't want to scare you off!" Carmy groaned.

"Carm, did you think I would leave if we didn't agree on where the shirts are supposed to go?"

He shrugged. "Dunno. Dunno!"

"You can tell me things, Carm!" you crossed the room until he was close enough to touch. His eyes looked like the sky before a storm. "You can tell me anything."

"Then why are you so fucking mad?" he said defiantly.

"Because I don't like when you yell at me like I'm just another chef in your fucking kitchen," you said, it was something you had been keeping quiet since your fight started. "I'm not getting paid to put up with this shit."

It struck Carmy completely quiet. And you regretted it the moment it left your lips. You had almost found some middle ground and you had trampled all over it. He took a step closer and stared at you, his eyes dark and angry, the space between you felt charged.

Before you knew what was going on, he grabbed you by the back of the neck and kissed you roughly, biting on your lips, mouth wide open. You pressed on his chest with your hands - you were still too mad at him. But his hands were strong and his tongue was relentless and you could feel yourself getting wet from the mixture of anger and lust - and who knew those two emotions were so close to each other?

"Fuck, I can stop," he said, barely separating his lips from yours, breathing hard. "You want that?"

You pulled on his shirt, bringing him towards you, kissing him back with just as much fervor. Then, using that same grasp, you moved him to the edge of the bed and pushed him hard, his curls bouncing as he fell on his back.

"I want you to fucking apologize, Carmen," you climbed on top of him, straddling his waist. You leaned over and trapped his wrists with your hands, above his head. Even putting all your strength into it, he could wiggle himself free at any moment, but he didn't; he stayed down and looked at you hungrily.

"I'm sorry," he said, a little too cocky for your taste, a smirk barely hidden on the side of his face.

You ground your hips against his, feeling his cock harden underneath you. He rolled his eyes and arched his neck. He looked beautiful, like a marble statue.

"What was that?" you asked, stopping your movement abruptly and getting close to his face.

He whined. "I'm sorry," and it sounded more truthful this time.

"Mhmm, that's more like it."

You kept holding both of Carmy's wrists with one hand, while the other moved downward, going underneath his shirt and playing with his nipple, massaging and pinching gently until he closed his eyes and hummed in bliss. Then you stopped.

"Fuck you," he said, letting out some leftover venom from your fight.

You smirked - why was this so hot?

You got your answer immediately after, when Carmy got free and turned you over, fast and aggressive, like he rarely was in the bedroom. He caged you with his arms and legs, all taut muscle and shaking breaths.

"What about you?" he said, his voice low.

"What about me?" you tilted your head. "I apologized like ten times, Carm. And I meant it."

"You said some fucked up things just now," his breath tickled your face as he studied you from every angle, like he was a wild animal and you were his prey.

"I did," you admitted. You arched your neck, trying to get close and... What? Kiss him? Bite him? You weren't sure. He put one hand on your throat, not quite a caress, closing his tattooed fingers around it. You squeezed your thighs together, blood flowing with need. "I meant some of that too."

"Which part?"

"That I don't like when you yell at me," you said honestly, the moment a little cheapened with how horny you sounded.

"That all?" Carmy's voice had turned hoarse from screaming and you wished you didn't find it so attractive.

"Yeah," you exhaled.

"Good," he said dryly and got up, freeing you, but you remained immobile.

Suddenly, he yanked hard on your jeans and underwear, leaving you bare in seconds.

"Fuck, Carmy."

You hated how needy you sounded, how wrecked you felt as he licked his hand and finally put his fingers inside you, how good he was at making you crumble... You let out a pleading and pathetic sound as he touched your clit roughly and finger fucked you a little too hard.

Then, he took his fingers out without a warning, leaving you empty and out of breath; his hands ghosted the insides of your thighs. You grabbed at his wrist, begging to be touched again. Carmy climbed on the bed instead, hovering above you, kissing you ferociously.

"Eager?" he teased when you started raising your hips to rub on his jeans.

"Impatient," you replied, trying to wind him up.

It worked - his eyes darkened again.

"Hands above your head," he ordered and you obeyed. He took your shirt off carelessly, your bra was almost spilling out with how forceful he was being but he didn't bother taking it off. The whole thing was angry, urgent, and so fucking hot. Carmy was undoing his belt and you used the pause to scoot backwards, just enough to reach your bedside table.

"Hurry the fuck up!" You threw a condom at him, hitting him square on the face.

Carmy gave you a look that was half exasperation, half amused lust. He unbuttoned his jeans just enough to take his cock out, then threw the empty wrapper back at you. He grabbed your legs and dragged you closer, forcefully, the duvet wrinkling underneath you.

"I swear I'm gonna-"

You didn't let him finish. You fisted the collar of his t-shirt and brought him down to kiss, biting on his lower lip, then soothing with your tongue. You opened your legs wide and tugged at the belt loops of his jeans - there was something arousing about him being almost completely clothed and you being almost naked.

"Fuck me, please, fuck me," you begged into his mouth, way past any sense of pride you had at the beginning of the fight. Carmy wasn't any better, rushing to obey the moment you said it.

"Fucking need it," he groaned as he entered you. It wasn't clear if he was talking about you or him - not that you had time to think about it before he started pounding into you. You felt every inch of Carmy's cock as it went in and out.

"So fucking good," you rasped to the side of his face. It spurred him on and made him go faster and harder - your moans got louder and louder. He covered your mouth with his hand.

"The fucking mouth on you," he mumbled low. You clenched your pussy in retaliation and watched as he rolled his eyes and lost his rhythm. "Holy shit, you're gonna kill me."

You ran your hands under his shirt, tracing the contour of his muscles, feeling them quiver and strain as Carmy tried his damnedest to keep going, one hand on the mattress and the other keeping you quiet. Part of you smiled in satisfaction knowing he was getting tired and wouldn't last.

"Shit. Fuck me," he whined and stopped for a moment, sweating and panting. He finally uncovered your mouth, conceding defeat.

"Want me to take over?" you asked with a chuckle.

Carmy sighed and fell on the mattress beside you. "Still mad at you," he said, the sound pitiful with how hard he was breathing.

"Good to know," you climbed on top of him, straddling, lowering yourself on his cock, making him arch his back with pleasure. "I'm still mad too."

You rode him mercilessly, your hips slamming against his, hands on his chest, his eyes marveling at the bounce of your breasts. You took him right to the edge and left him hanging, the veins of his neck bulging as he groaned in frustration.

You clicked your tongue, swaying gently. "Not coming until I do."

"Yeah?" he arched his eyebrows, taking the challenge for what it was.

His hand moved from gripping your hip to where your bodies connected, his thumb finding your clit and caressing it. Your legs shook involuntarily, a spark going through you.

He grinned.

"Oh, fuck you," you sighed, your neck arched, looking at the ceiling while you bounced on his cock. He knew just what he was doing - making you tremble and moan with every gentle touch.

"Come on," he urged you, meeting your thrusts, fucking into you, hitting your G spot almost by mistake.

"Fuck," you gasped, biting your lip to stop from screaming.

You rode him much faster, something desperate and feral taking over you. Carmy's eyes widened when your walls started fluttering around his cock.

"Are you-? Can I-?" he asked in a choked out voice.

"Yes, yes," you managed to say, squeezing the wrist of the hand that was touching your clit so deliciously as your orgasm started taking over every one of your senses. "Yes, Carmy."

He tensed underneath you, flushed all over, eyes closed, and his lips forming a beautiful 'O'. You stared, waiting patiently for him to open his eyes.

He looked up at you, soft, grateful, a smile curling his lips.

"C'mere," he beckoned you downwards, meeting you with relieved kisses, breathy laughter filling the space between you. He caressed your back, tugging on your bra straps until you were somewhat covered again. The tenderness of the gesture warmed you all over.

"You okay?" Carmy asked and you nodded, nuzzling your nose against his in the process. A pause. "Hey. I am sorry. I was angry and-"

"I know," you fixed his hair, all sweaty and sticking on his forehead. "I'm sorry too."

He kissed your shoulder lovingly.

"I like you being here," he said. "I just- I need time to figure it out. That okay?"

"Yeah," you traced the line of his nose with your finger. "We'll figure it out together, baby."

You kissed him sweetly and he rolled you over to your side.

"I'll go to the thrift store tomorrow," you said, cupping his face. "Buy a desk and shit."

Carmy smiled. "I'll fix the pantry. Put labels on my shit. Make room for your things."

"I think that's the most romantic thing you've said to me," you joked, giggling when he tickled your sides.

"Shut the fuck up!"

He laughed with you, leaving kisses on your face and throat.

You woke up to the sound of Carmy talking in his sleep. Most of it was gibberish, quiet mumbles as he thrashed on the bed, the one word you could make out was 'Mikey' - over and over. He winced and let out a pained sound. You got closer and held him, your arm across his chest.

You knew he had nightmares, you'd been there for a couple of them, but sleeping every night with him meant you saw much more of it. It broke your heart how many you had missed, how bad he hurt...

"It's okay, Carmy," you soothed softly. "I'm here, baby, it's okay."

He woke up with a startle, breathing fast.

"Fuck, sorry," he sat up and ran his hands over his face. "Bad dream."

"I know," you waited for him to settle, giving him space.

After a while, he laid back next to you. You moved slowly, gently, touching the side of his face and caressing his hair, calming him down.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Uh," Carmy looked up at the ceiling, blinking hard, "there was a fire. Just so much smoke," he cleared his throat. "And, uh, Mike was there." There was a long pause. "Did I ever tell you he planned to set the restaurant on fire?"

"What?" you froze.

He hummed. "To cash the insurance money, you know," he reached for your free hand, intertwining your fingers and bringing them close to his chest; his heart was pounding.

"I'm sorry, Carm," you waited for him to say something but he stayed silent, vacant. "It feels so weird that I never met him."

"Probably for the better, to be honest," he said dryly. There was something dark about the way he said it.

"Hey," you squeezed his hand, trying to ground him. "What'd you like about him?"

"About Mike?" he said looking at you. "Uh- He was warm. He told the best stories, took care of Nat and me, gave the best hugs... A real big brother, you know?"

You nodded.

"Started getting tattoos because of him," he said, flexing his hands to show the ink on them. "He was so cool, and I wanted to be that."

"I think you're pretty cool," you said sweetly, kissing his knuckles.

"Thanks," he said through a sad smile. "Richie says he was all wrong by the end of it..."

"Wrong how?"

"He wasn't warm anymore, he was, uh, like a fryer fire, I guess. His stories didn't make sense. Kept forgetting shit. A mess, you know?"

"Maybe that's why he pushed you away," you said softly. You knew Carmy felt guilty for his time in New York. "He wanted you to remember him like he was before."

"Maybe," he conceded, looking up at the ceiling.

You stayed like that for a while, caressing his arm, tracing lines on his skin.

"Would you-" he said, then stopped.

You turned to face him. "Yes?"

"Would you hold me?" Carmy asked, his blue eyes open and vulnerable.

"Of course," you smiled and shifted on the bed to spoon him, his back to your chest, your arms around him, leaving gentle kisses on his shoulder blade. You could feel his heartbeat settle as he went back to sleep.

"Love you, Carm," you said right before you drifted off.

You woke up to the feeling of Carmy kissing your face softly. You hummed, content. When you opened your eyes, the bright light of late morning was all over your bedroom.

"Didn't hear you coming in last night," you said, your voice raspy with sleep.

"Got in late. Bad day," he raised his hand to touch your hair, staring at the way it caught the light. "Nat forced me to take today off."

"That bad?" you asked, a little concerned.

Carmy moved his fingers to the worry lines on your face, soothing.

"Not really. Someone talked about work life balance in her last Al-family meeting and she's all about that shit right now," he smiled. You loved to see how he looked soft with sleep, relaxed for a little while.

"Have I told you I really like her?"

"You might have," he said playfully, then leaned over to kiss you. It was a gentle thing, his lips lazy on yours and his body flushed as he hugged you.

You took his shirt off, not out of lust, just wanting to get more warmth from his skin on yours. You slowly started kissing his tattoos. You liked the ones on his arms and hands; they were familiar, whenever you thought of Carmy it was the image you conjured. But you loved his other tattoos, the ones nobody else saw, the secrets he kept and only shared with you. You left kisses on his shoulder and his chest, running your fingers on the ink on his ribs and right above his hip bone.

"I've missed you, Carm," you confessed.

It had been a hectic couple of weeks. You had barely seen each other, mostly just sleeping on the same bed, saying good night and good morning before each of you left for work.

"Missed you too," he replied.

His hands roamed your body, tugging gently at the fabric of your sleep shirt, helping you out of it, all while kissing you. You melted in his arms, pliant as he rolled you over and started leaving pecks on your skin.

"Carmy," you sighed. His lips left imprints on your jaw, your neck, your collarbone, and your chest. He stayed there, kissing the top of your breasts, the side, the valley between them, and your nipples. Your pulse was racing and you wondered whether he could feel it with his mouth.

"You're so soft," he said, his exhale giving you goosebumps. "Smell so nice."

"You smell nice too, baby," you giggled. Carmy's hair still had a lavender-like scent from his night shower.

"Mmm..."

He kept kissing. Your belly, your hip, the wrinkle that formed between your mound and your thigh. There was something so like devotion in the way that he moved; it wasn't about filling some selfish need to get his dick wet, he wanted you to feel loved.

"C’mere," you called him back up, to kiss his lips fervently, your hands buried in his hair. When you parted, he smiled, his eyes were still sleepy. He looked so comfortable, so soft...

Your hand traced again that tattoo on his hip, then moved downward, to the hair on his navel, and lower, touching him over his boxers. He was half hard, his nose buried in your neck. When he groaned, his chest rumbled against yours.

"So nice," he said. "’m too fucking tired to fuck you like you deserve, though."

Your free hand caressed the back of Carmy's neck, holding him closer.

"Just want you to relax, make you feel good," you whispered, moving the hand on his cock back and forth, slow, loving.

He moaned, then shifted a little on the bed. You didn't realize why he was moving until his hand snaked its way inside your shorts.

"Oh," you squirmed a little at the feeling of his fingers.

"Too cold?" Carmy asked.

"No, it's okay," you leaned to kiss him. "It's okay," you repeated.

You kept on touching and kissing, everything in that sort of clumsy haze, one of your legs over his. You needed this: being with him without the rush of being late, no urgency, no fucking as fast as you could before Carmy had to run to the restaurant. You had all the time in the world - you could count the freckles on his face and stare at the blue in his eyes as he mumbled sweet nothings into the morning air.

His free hand touched your wrist, guiding it to the head of his cock, the sluggish rhythm you had set just enough to make him roll his eyes and kiss you hard, drowning a whine against your lips as he released.

"Love you so much," Carmy mumbled.

You kissed the side of his face. "I love you, I love you," your voice came out choked and high.

Without you noticing, the constant massaging between your folds had built up too. You came with a long exhale, closing your eyes for a moment, lightly squeezing his side.

"Wanna stay here forever," he said after a while of just looking at you and caressing your back.

"Just sleeping and fucking all day," you replied tiredly.

"I'd like that."

[Deleted Scene]

[Part 8]

@th3h0nkz @faephoria @wadupppp

#reader moves in with carmy; shenanigans ensue!#it's three separate days/nights in case it wasn't clear lol #carmy x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto fanfiction #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x you #carmy x you #carmy berzatto smut

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