#best skate brands

[meriablog]

#skate #skate clothing brands #skate clothing #skate style clothing #skate clothes #skate vlog #skaters clothing #skater #skater fashion #best skate shoes #whats happening to the skate clothing brands? #skate fashion #skate vlogger #ranking skate shoes #ranking skate brands #best skate decks #skate style #skate or die #skate fashion tips #skate brands #inline skating clothing #worst skate shoes #best skate brands #skate shoes review #skater outfits

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

THE SOUND OF SILENT GRAVES (X)

NAVIGATION || RAVISHING ALLURE MASTERLIST || NEXT: CHAPTER XI

PAIRING: Nikto x F!Reader (Soulmate AU)

WORDCOUNT: 15.5k

WARNINGS: Angst, threats, exploitation, stalking behavior, very dark/toxic modeling standards/expectations, body issues, scar descriptions, mentions of past intimacy, broody/stubborn Nikto, brief smut, etc. (Series 18+)

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

Your mind doesn’t remember the first time you looked in the mirror and saw the beginnings of the flaws. Perhaps your nose was a bit too strange—lips a bit too…there the second you turned thirteen. Maybe fourteen. Fifteen. You know it started slow, like all poison does; the point to where you actually begin to pay attention to the chains around your neck. 

Your eyes hadn’t left where Nikto’s sweatpants sat so well over your hips for at least five minutes. Usually, you’d pick at those flaws here, on the cold bathroom tile with the black and white wash of nothingness. But this is distraction enough to block it out, at least for now. 

You smell like him. 

You’d noticed after you had woken up for the second time and had found Nikto gone—his thigh no longer the firm pillow to your skull. It startled you, admittingly, and you thought it was unlike him, but then your ears had picked up on the barked Russian sentences outside the bedroom door, drifting in from under the wood as your haze cleared. Best guess? He was on the phone with someone while you kept getting the rest he said you needed; you could only speculate how he got out from under you without making your eyes snap open. But, yes, it was undeniable that every ounce of your skin was bathed in his scent; marked, branded as if a sheep. 

Rotting wood coated in gunpowder, and gnawing metal that peels back flesh. 

It’s stuck in your nostrils as you itch at the side of your nose, blinking away from your reflected visage as if it’s on fire. 

Focus, you plead, and you don’t even know to whom. 

So much had happened, that the thought of your brain calming down was impossible. Nikto knew. He knew about the purpose of the parties, he knew about your doubts and fears, he knew your body. 

As you exit the bathroom, your mind slips into a dark thought—maybe learning to care about someone turns you into a bit of a stalker of your own. No one else could say they knew you as well as Nikto now does: your fears and your hopes. Not even Alyona, you flatten your lips at the realization, and you consider her your best friend. 

“Jesus,” you groan quietly after a moment, pushing your palms into your eyes with a heavy sigh. 

It can’t be past noon now, and you can’t run from this forever. 

The phone on your nightstand is taken up, and, sitting back on the bed, your eyes dart and skate past the tossed party dress on the floor, wishing someone would go out and burn it already. As the visible tear in the lace catches your attention, along with the slashed corset, there’s an unmistakable twitch at your lips, that only makes your chest tighten immediately after.

Clearing your throat, you turn back on the device and try to give it your undivided, though anxious, attention. The sound of sharp Russian beyond the door gives a sliver of comfort. 

But still…why hadn’t he woken you up? There’s a sliver of confusion that takes place in your mind, but you push it back softly.

The first wave of notifications is expected, and exactly the same as it had been before breakfast. 

Kliment Fedorov, Alyona, your Mom, even the investigators—texts and calls, ranging from clipped sentences to long paragraphs. Thumb hovering over the screen, you raise your opposite hand and rub at the base of your skull, a low sound in the back of your throat. There was so much, you didn’t even know where to begin. You should be worrying about the stalker, not your job. 

But…when had you not been worried about your job?

Just another thing to make me lose my mind faster, you think. God, this is getting to a point where I’m starting to not care if they get rid of me—at least then I’d be able to make my own decisions. You start with Aly, and you quickly slap the call icon just to ease your shaky fingers of the stuttered typing they would have had to do otherwise. Phone to ear, the ringing only persists for two seconds before there’s the hurried panic of static and a frantic voice. 

“Seraph!” 

“Aly—” You try to quickly calm her down, mouth open with the half-formation of speech.

“Bastard! Why did you not call me?!” The woman snaps, and your ears twitch, your body flinching at the guilt that grows. “I have been up all night and worried most of the morning—damn you. Everyone at AMA is silent and Fedorov won’t let me into his office.” 

That’s right, you had told her you’d call her after the party—when you’d talked to her after seeing Nikto’s back tattoo. 

After you’d touched his ravaged flesh. 

Your face heats slowly, head tilting to the floor as you clear your throat. It was all wrapped in tissue paper, those memories. The storage room, the way those pale eyes had dug into your form in that damned dress, wanting to try and compliment you in his own strange way but being unable when you degraded yourself so consistently—unsure of himself. It was addictive seeing such a frenzied and numb man walking on cracking ice.

But that doesn’t make you any more sure of yourself.

“I meant to,” you hurry into your explanation, waving a hand even if she can’t see it. “You know I wouldn’t leave you wondering unless I had a good reason.” 

Alyona huffs over the line, silence falling as her anger tapers into a line. “...I need to put a bell on you, Солнышко.”

You close your eyes and sigh, fingers moving to push into your nose bridge. 

“Yeah,” your mouth utters. “Honestly, it’s not a bad idea, Aly.” 

It isn’t long before there’s the low plea—that heavy insinuation. You know she’s still now, waiting for you to begin. “Tell me, then.”

Face tightening, you pause and listen for Nikto. You still hear the muted conversation, and occasionally, the stomp of heavy boots along the floors. He’s pacing. 

What’s going on out there? Who was he talking to? You wonder silently, perplexed. Nikto had made many phone calls before, and while he preferred to be in a nearby area and speak in his mother tongue, they hadn’t been as long as this—nor as snappy. Shaking your head, you suppose it’s a problem for later, and in the back of your mind, every word that he’d ever spoken to you rattles like rocks. 

You were nervous around Nikto now, and that doesn’t make any sense to you.

Doesn’t the nervous part come before getting touched in the back of some dark storage room? 

You grunt under your breath, clenching your jaw; becoming more and more like Nikto as the days pass, it seemed. 

“I didn’t sleep with Tarkovsky,” your words are breathy and low. Trying to hide. “...Nikto stopped it.” The heavy pause is enough to make your palms sweat. “Aly?”

“Perhaps I judged the beast of man too early.” You blink, tilting your head as your eyebrows draw in. “Christ, Seraph. I’m relieved, of course I am, but what will Fedorov do once he finds out?”

“He already knows,” you relay. “Nikto wasn’t…subtle about his refusal to let me go.”

“Blood?” Aly asks.

“And bone,” you sigh. 

“Shit,” the woman over the line grumbles. “Do you…” she trails off slowly. “Do you think AMA will keep you on?”

“This hasn’t happened before,” you shrug to yourself, hearing Nikto speaking louder. Your eyes dart to the door, and as you blink, your fingers run your thigh in a self-soothing motion. “I don’t know. Right now I’m debating if it’s even worth it.” A painful chuckle. “Any advice?”

“Keep the bastard around long enough to break someone else's bones.” Aly’s laugh is sharp and smooth. “Show them what happens when they do anything he doesn’t like.”

“The night wasn’t all bad,” you try to defend his personality a smidge. “He’s not some monster, Aly.”

“I wasn’t implying that,” there’s the sound of moving fabric from over the call, and Alyona is most likely in a fitting room herself, taking up your call as she rushed out of a photographer’s shoot at light speed. “...You like him, then? Truly? Or are you just enamored by his capacity for violence?”

Your body slows at the obvious jest, taking it seriously. Face stilling, you blink at the wall across from you. Everything else blurs for a moment, memories slashing to every opened car door and meal made with expert hands. Organized magazines on your tables and cleaned dishes. There was something funny about the way you enjoyed the stretch of his sin coating you like blood over the visible flesh of a masked face.

Nikto wasn’t a good person. You knew that.

“Yes,” you whisper regardless, feet shifting below you. “How can I spend so much time with someone and not like them?” Your words try to reason.

“Very easily,” the Russian woman scoffs, not wasting time. “You know what I mean, Little Seraph. Don’t try to push me off like I am stupid.” A low hum. “When you talk about him, your breath goes light.”

“It does not,” your voice tightens. 

“Denial,” Aly sighs. “The first sign.”

“Oh, shut the hell up,” you groan, standing up and beginning to walk the room casually. You enjoyed the banter—the teasing: you two were good at that. 

As soft chuckles waft around, your lips twitch into a smile. “He’s not horrible. That’s all I’ll say.” 

“No beast?”

“No, no beast. A stubborn brute of a dogish ex-soldier?” You roll your eyes, and the commotion outside of the door takes on a different tone. You pay it no mind. “One hundred percent.”

“You like strays, yes, Seraph?” Alyona’s line crackles.

“I was burdened with a good heart,” you joke with a chuckle, nodding. As the second of silence draws, you reluctantly push out, “I need to check in with everything else.”

“Then I’ll leave you to it,” is the easy reply. The next sentence is troubled. “...If you’re kept, will you have to go to the rest of the parties?”

You don’t get to reply, because there isn’t a moment to think above the sinking in your gut and the sudden shove of the door. Head snapping up, the phone is tilted from your face as your eyes bug wildly. 

Iakov makes it three steps into the room, searching for you, before a growled shout and a ruthless hand connected with his suit’s collar. Watching wide-eyed, you see the way the pale-haired man is dragged out with a loud call of alarm.

Mouth agape, all you utter is a quick, “I’ll call you later,” before rapidly hanging up and moving as fast as you can to the door.

Shoulder hitting the frame, you stutter as you right yourself swiftly. “Nikto?”

“Go back to bed,” the black void grunts, gloved hand releasing Iakov with a violent shove. The two men are in the living room, your guard glaring with venom at your media coordinator as he stumbles back, nearly falling to the floor. 

“She can’t!” Iakov meets that fire with fire, strengthening himself. His face is a tone darker—eyes sharply snapping. “Fedorov has been waiting all day to have a meeting, and I won’t have my job on the line because of some entitled bra—!”

Nikto’s hand re-wraps itself around the man’s collar, jerking the fabric, and in turn, the smaller body forward until the rough fabric of the lower half of his mask is nearly brushing Iakov’s nose.

“I will cut out your tongue,” Nikto eases out far smoother than you’d heard thus far in your many days together. 

Your heart skips a beat.

“...Okay,” you say under your breath, face on fire as your coordinator freezes like a bird under a cat, a flash of rage simmering in his expression. The tension was palpable.

Truth be told, you’d never seen Iakov so unmanaged before—hair this way and that, suit ruffled not only from Nikto but from the apparent running of hands. He was always so put together. You swallow down your shaky worry. 

You’d never known him to be anything but respectful. It was like a knife to the chest to see such a rabid switch of emotions—of personality. Christ, it was damn near wrong.

“Nikto,” you say quickly, and the brute only tilts his head your way, not looking at you as his fingers tighten. Your tongue darts to wet your lips. “Please.”

Iakov is pushed back once more, and your guard grunts, light gaze unwavering as he backs up only a half-step nearer to you, widening his shoulders as the trunks of his arms cross his chest. Suddenly, thoughts of sex, power, and a stalker boil down to the sight in front of you instead, and the great confusion gets larger still.

Nikto is back in full gear, and here you are in sweatpants and an oversized shirt. When had your Russian bear managed to change? Had he left the bedroom far sooner than you’d thought? And…why? Keeping the Russian in the side of your narrowed eye, you take a breath and quickly address the greater problem. 

I thought Nikto was only on a phone call.

“How did you get in here?” Your voice is low, riddled with exasperation and a tinge of stiffness. Would Nikto even have let someone in without talking to you first? It seemed unlikely.

Iakov sneers, clenching his jaw—the void beside you is silent. 

“Key.” Long fingers disappear into his suit, peeling out the gray face of a hotel room key and holding it between two fingers. Eyes pierce you, narrowed with a wave of horrible anger and swirling contempt that makes your breath hitch as if under the scrutiny of a wolf.

Your lungs hold themselves in your ribs like prisoners at the confession; eyes widening. 

Key?

Nikto levels out slowly, shifting with canid-like movements. “Walked in when we were speaking to the investigators over call.” He breathes out a rumble. “Nearly shot his head off.”

“You would have had a harder time than that, Хуй,” Iakov barks, dress shoes clicking as he slaps a foot forward. 

Heart hammering, your anxiety dances—questions muddling. Paranoia. Why would Iakov be allowed to have a key to your room? Had he always had one when you were sent out to parties?

What if he’d walked in before….?

Shaking your head at the implication, you step in before Nikto has a chance to jump the man, snapping out in a fashion that was unlike you, but came from both a place of desperation and nervousness. Your face pulls into a sharp display of panicked anger.

“Both of you shut up and listen!” Nikto freezes, eyes flashing instantly to shock. After a moment, any discernible emotion vanishes from his pale eyes, and he blinks down to you; shoulders lowering as if a display of submission.

While you can’t see it, Nikto’s heart sputters. He hadn’t expected that from you. 

Even back in Yekaterinburg, you were more prone to letting the course go calm—letting others lay themselves over you to avoid confrontation. You were still like that, of course; that was plainly seen in your unwillingness to explain before the party what was going on, but an outburst like that Nikto had never seen before. 

He watches you closely but remains mute even if his throat cages in a grunt of surprise.

Iakov freezes as well, neck snapping over like a fish on a hook. He was rageful and arrogant, you could now see it plainly. Even if he was always composed, you weren’t blind to the looks he would give you when he passed you in AMA—the discreet touches to the back of your shoulders or arms when you’d be given schedules face-to-face. 

You were stuck in a circle of distrust and lustful eyes, and the only reprieve was a man with more blood on his hands than a butcher holding a pig’s heart. 

Trying to calm yourself, you shake your head softly.

“Iakov,” you utter at the glaring face, hate and disgust stuck behind pupils. “Explain it to me.”

“You fucked it all up,” he growls, and Nikto’s gaze snaps to return to a pale face. Yet he still doesn’t interfere, hanging around like a puppy lacking his needle teeth. Muzzled. It doesn’t stop his eyes from sparking, however. “There is no deal with Tarkovsky! You know what that means, Seraph?” His hair is flattened down by a fast hand, tongue licking at his lips. “No money. Fedorov is wringing my neck! Why have you not answered the phone?!” 

“I was resting,” you mutter stiffly, face a tension-ridden mess. Glancing at Nikto and his tight pupils, the Russian doesn’t look over, only his hips moving in a small shuffle. You clear your throat with a small ache starting to form at the base of your skull. “Just got up.”

“It is past noon,” the shorter man barks. “This is absurd!” 

“Lower your tone,” Nikto utters. 

“I will speak what I will,” Iakov’s expression is like a knife as you stuff your shaky hands into your pockets. “Seraph needs to listen to what I tell her to do before—”

“Before what,” your guard interrupts, tilting his head. Around him is a false calm that somehow seems more violent than if he was yowling like a mutt. Your lips thin into a line. “Hm? Speak. You were doing it not a second ago.” 

Your coordinator stills and he wisely keeps his tongue from flapping.

“We will say it only once more,” you watch Nikto from the corner of your eye, breath trapped in your throat as his hips tighten and arms slip to hang by them; gloved hand flexing where the lack of a digit is glaring at you. “Watch your tongue.”

“I’ll call him,” you comply to Iakov’s complaints after a moment of heavy silence, face on fire and your chest being hit by every palpitation of your heart. Your mind is airy, and that scent of rotten wood is back as your legs push in on themselves. “I’ll explain what I can and—”

“Too late,” is the hissed answer. “He already gave me my workload. You’re going out tonight if you still want your job.” Your spine goes rail-straight. “This is the last chance, Seraph,” the pale-haired man spits. “This is it—you’ll put on what I have for you to wear, you’ll give yourself to the man who wants to invest into AMA, and you’ll keep doing what I tell you to. Your dog,” Iakov stares at Nikto for a long while, opening and closing his hands like he wants to say more, but only growls, “will do as he is ordered.” 

Nikto is about to punch him, you can tell by the roll and shake of his wrist. In an instant, you have your hand grabbing at his bicep, barely applying pressure beyond the initial grasp and yank. It does the trick though. 

Nikto’s body halts.

“Give me the key and get out,” you say in a monotone to the raging coordinator. 

Iakov looks like he’s going to fight on that, and your unease at his presence gets larger. The knowledge that he had access to your hotel room the entire time makes your muscles writhe with something dangerous—alarm bells. But the stalker isn’t here with you, is he? He’s back in Yekaterinburg unless there’s something you don’t know about.

Before you can pull on your guard’s arm again, Nikto pounces and slaps the key to the floor, which skids along the white tile as you gasp softly. Great hand connecting with a shouting Iakov’s collar, Nikto doesn’t let go as he begins dragging the man away like a toddler with ease, dress shoes scuffing the floor. 

Face loose, your eyes follow as the Russian grasps the door handle, yanks the barrier open, and tosses the coordinator out with a snarl. 

“You need to obey what I tell you—!” The scream is cut off as the door is slammed shut in Iakov’s face ruthlessly. A lock clicks in place, and that’s the end of it. 

Nikto stays to stare through the peephole, eyes beady and chest heaving with heavy breaths. Under the mask, his skin is taut with feral tension. 

In his youth, the Russian had been unswayable in his anger—a fact that resulted in many a school fight and bloodied faces, usually not only his own. It’s what brought him to the military, to be completely honest with himself. A lust for something he could control like a pocket knife in his hand, but bigger than two teenagers wailing on each other in some field while a gaggle cheered them on. Split knuckles and cut lips. One thing never got any easier, though. 

That damn spark of animalistic loyalty.

He’d formed some bond with you, that was certain. Mutual gain? Who knows. Bodily need? Maybe. Actual care? …Curse him, but perhaps. Yet, hold his toes over a fire if he didn’t feel a horrific rage at some man he could break over his thigh speaking to you like that. 

He feels your gaze on the back of his head even now, as he watches that media coordinator scurry off like a rat, and he flashes to the ongoing gag the two of you had formed. 

Looks like a Shrew. Little rodent.

Nikto sighs under his breath, fingers coming up to rub at his covered chin, scraping gloves against the thick canvas. He backs up with a scoff and stalks away. 

“The man is weak,” Nikto says to you, keeping a tight side-eye. “Get a better one before we dispose of him.”

You strangle down a quick laugh, mouth slowly opening as you think over your words. The comment, said in that rough and sandpaper-like accent, flows through you like water. You should be put off by it, you think to yourself in the back of your brain, especially after the explosion in the bakery and the death of your three previous guards; of Yefim.

Yet…

Your throat tightens. “You think he was being serious?” You ask. “About the party tonight? My job?”

“You are not going.” It’s immediate. 

“Nikto,” you frown, stepping forward as he brushes past you to grab his phone that was sitting on the coffee table. “There are parts that I won’t be a part of again, but I know that you know, that I need to keep my position at AMA. With any hope, showing up will be enough—I can speak, persuade, the person who—”

“Why?” he spits, shoving the device away as his pale eyes glare, head tilting. 

If you knew any better, you’d compare this to a boy pouting. Just perhaps a bit more serious. 

“Oh,” you vaguely motion with a hand, sarcastically uttering as your heart slows now that it’s only the two of you. “I don’t know—food, rent, the ability to live comfortably. You know, the usual.”

Nikto huffs, taking out his baretta and placing it on the table before the cleaning rag is slipped from his belt. He sits down near the neatly folded blanket and perfect pillows, silent. You’d have to keep this conversation going later, there was a low curiosity in your stomach. His phone—the speaking you’d heard from the bedroom. 

“Who were you talking to before I came out?” Walking forward, you listen to the click of dark metal as Nikto takes apart his gun piece by piece, setting them all down in a well-thought-out order. He glances up, and you see his lashes dip in a blink. As usual, his expression is unreadable while behind that mask. You almost missed the balaclava—at least you could see the outline of his lips that way.

“Anything important?”

“Investigators,” Nikto grumbles. “They have taken Sergi into custody, but can get nothing out of him,” he pauses, troubled though you can’t see it as your eyes widen, body going to sit beside his own before intently listening. 

“That’s perfect!” You speak, a smile overtaking your lips. “Maybe that’s why I haven’t gotten any more texts from the stalker. Do you think that they’ll keep him there?”

“No,” you still, smile freezing. “They cannot.” Pale eyes stare into your own smoothly before they break away. Nikto clears his throat, fingers twitching as more bits and bobs are polished. “DNA does not match those found on the letters from your lockbox. It is illegal to falsely detain someone for over forty-eight hours. He will be released unless further evidence is discovered.” 

It’s a slow moment before you swallow down the sharp disappointment in your gut, attention darting from the silent Russian to the table. 

“Oh.”

Nikto’s muscles tense the longer this silence permeates, eyes unconsciously darting back from his gun to you. After a long while, he sighs aggressively, dropping the rag and the slide he had been polishing without thought as it thumps to the table.

“Птичка,” he turns, and you blink back to him just to notice the instant tension as your eyes lock. 

Such grays and blacks make up his being, that you wonder if color even mattered when it came to him—you already know those shades of in-between things, and Nikto could certainly be described as in-between. The activities of the storage room flash behind your vision, and your lips part softly. 

But something isn’t right. 

You’d thought that maybe Nikto would always be something of a blank slate to you—obviously, you could tell when he was frustrated and such, but anything beyond that was still up to your imagination. But it’s especially telling when you can understand the way he hesitates to touch you when his hand rises. 

The limb moves to your bicep before the Russian drops it back down, turning back to his rag, and gets back to work with the lines beside his eyes visible as if grimacing. Beyond the anxiety, and the paranoia, you find the hurt burns sharper than those two ever could.

Not to mention the uncertainty. 

You stare openly for upwards of three minutes, hesitant with the white noise in your brain overtaking your thoughts. 

Nikto’s head is thumping—attacking every ounce of common sense to be found. The picture on his phone; the implications. The stalker wasn’t Sergi, because Sergi was at this very moment still detained and had been since last night…how could he tell you that? A man who was already horrible with words, so used to barking out his true feelings to soldiers and civilians alike. He can’t be that with you. Not anymore. He doesn’t want to be. But he’s stubborn—he’s prideful. Arrogant. It’s easier for him to figure it out himself than burden you, and in many ways, you were the same beast.

Mutt, mutt, mutt. Golden chains around supple flesh.

Nikto opens and closes his mouth many times, not knowing how your heart is cracking piece by piece; so averse to speaking about yourself. He’d left while you were still asleep to make the phone call himself to your investigators, not able to stare at your face any longer or feel your flesh. It had made his attention slip, and his focus fail. 

The lack of control where he already had so little. He couldn’t take it, and in that, he felt dirty. Tainted. 

The knowledge that someone had a picture of you in perhaps the most vulnerable moment he’d ever seen you in was worse, still. Like the blood on his hands was smearing itself over you, dipping along your waist and hips; sinking its dripping knuckles into the tight clutch of your welcoming walls. Fingerprint marks over your navel, clawing. 

Nikto flinches subtly in his seat, a low sound echoing in the back of his throat. He wishes he’d never known the color of blood if only to not be able to imagine it along your pretty skin. 

The Russian had only been thinking about it when you were sleeping, a slow infection seeping in as it always did—the stalker had been just behind him and he hadn’t heard a thing. The thought was enough to nearly make him vomit.

It was an utter disgrace to his skills. 

He can’t be distracted anymore; not now. Not when he feels the fingers digging into his scars, the cuts, the drags of knives, and the burn of fire. He needs that control back. Some semblance of stability. 

You try not to show how much you’re taken aback—how much Nikto’s sudden distance is a physical pain to you. The dead air settles, and you feel your pulse through your skin like a wound. 

“...Anything else, Nikto?” Your voice is deathly still. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe you had pushed something too far. 

“...Нет.” The Russian’s fingers are hovering over the pieces of his gun, dismantled and laid bare to the overhead light of the blinding hotel. This place is cold; sterile. You’d said it before and you’d say it again—this was not a place you’d want to live. Now…even less so. Nikto clears his throat as you stand jerkily, sending a glance that lands on your throat and not your eyes. “There is nothing.”

You nod quickly. 

“Good. I’m, uh,” your tongue wets your lips, and pale eyes try not to follow the motion even as he finds it like a siren call. Control. “I’m glad. I’ll figure out the details about the party tonight and get back to you.” 

Nikto’s shoulders froze, but by the time his damaged brain had caught up with his mouth, you were already back in the bedroom and shutting the door with a soft hand. 

A blue gaze sticks to the barrier, but not a single sound creates so much of an echo as the seconds draw into minutes. 

“Enough,” Nikto orders himself, turning back to the table. Lips shifting into a deep frown, there’s little in the way of understanding his own actions, but wasn’t that the norm? Distance lets him think—thinking means solutions. Solutions for you; solutions for him. 

But the feeling of your warm flesh is addictive, and there are moments in between the flashes of bloodshed that circulate when your brushing fingertips scrape down his back—a bear to a deer, but now he’s not too sure which is which. There’s a need to consume and eat down sustenance until his face is bloody and raw again, that half of a Glasgow smile ripped open and hanging, brutality ingrained into his psyche by way of pain and pleasure. 

You touching him was both.

Being near you was both.

Knowing about that picture he’d been sent was worse than the former.

Nikto had thought to tell you, he’d been getting better with that, but then he’d truly thought it over and in his own way wanted you to be safe from just one more violation. It was how he was—a silent, brutish, mutt-like hired gun. He was smart, though. 

And, damn him, he liked it when you smiled. 

“Focus on the task,” he grunts, his knuckles under his gloves surely white from how hard he handles the metal of his beretta, stress cleaning even if he doesn’t know it—doesn’t acknowledge it.

His tight-pupiled eyes keep dragging themselves back to the door.

—

The hotel stayed in a suffocating silence even as the stylists came and went. They didn’t say a word as the hours lengthened—nervous, if you had to guess. The story of ‘the guard who snapped a man’s wrist in one motion’ had made its rounds quickly; gossip always on loose tongues. 

You’d had a call with Fedorov. You think you had only gotten through it because you’d dug your nails so hard into your hand, that the initial scrape of cartilage had distracted you from the threat of being fired. The beady-eyed CEO had been less than pleased, and that was all you wanted to comment on; to even think about.

“I’ve heard troubling things, Seraph. Very troubling. What is this about your guard? I had thought we had come to an understanding about it. Tight leash, yes?” 

Your fingers skate the smooth front of the newest dress you’ve been given, and you play with the dangle of cold metal around your fingers. Rings. You don’t know if they’re gold or silver, nor the gems set into them, but you know they’re elegant—just as the fabric you wear is.

There’s no great slit here, not in this form-fitting sleeve of white. Two pieces of fabric move up to cover your breasts and meet at a collar around your neck of the same silk, the train extending from the back of that collar that trails the ground. Lace, of course. Your shoulders are bare, just as a good ninety percent of your back is; only stopping at the small of your back where the fabric is once more tight to you. Pearls and feathers create a beaded version of a corset, tantalizingly caressing your bare flesh. 

Your first thought is that you’ll freeze in this, but the second is how you’re going to walk in the heels—a silk strap looping your ankle before a big bow meets your eyes.

And the third is even worse.

“I think I’m losing my job tonight,” you whisper, blank-faced and knowledgeable of Nikto once more waiting where he had been before. A vicious repeat, a hopeless deja vu. 

A pawn in someone else's game.

Your fingers tap your abdomen in broken intervals. There had to be a way out of this, you try to tell yourself. 

Think. 

But your mind always drifts back to the damn ex-soldier that’s in the living room. His attitude today—his distance from you was like taking a bullet to the gut. You should be celebrating the detainment of Sergi, of possible breakthroughs even if the DNA didn’t match. 

The baker’s boy knew something, that was a fact. 

But nothing. No joy—no jokes or sarcasm. 

As you look at yourself now, you can only now recognize the expression of utter defeat you wear so plainly like a burial shroud. This was a cruel game. But there was something truly frightening about how close you and Nikto had become in such a relatively short period. Akin to soulmates finding one another, except for the simple fact you didn’t believe that was what the two of you were anymore. 

It had been a brief hope, truly. But one that you’d wanted more than anything, and you don’t know why. You don’t know why you let him touch you; let him be so near—it runs around your brain to speak itself in tongues just like the rest. Problem after problem. 

One at a time, you turn and exit the room, not looking at yourself longer than you have to. 

Nikto stands stiff by the door, already in his suit and balaclava—M13 and Beretta back where they belong respectively. The knife, you have no clue, though you know it’s somewhere. 

There are no compliments from the two of you. No speaking. So quickly something flipped on its head. Pale eyes dart, but when they meet yours, drip and drag away to the coat rack as you grab for your jacket. As your attention tries not to linger, you see him momentarily peel back his eyelids at the sight of your elegant dress but say nothing beyond a garbled sigh.

The air was so thick, that it was nearly enough to display how idiotic and childish the two of you were for acting like this.

You open your mouth and push out, “Ready to go?” 

In the hours you’d taken to get ready, the Russian had come up with a plan. 

He nods to you now and opens the door, allowing you out as he stays behind, making sure the lock clicks as you glance over your shoulder. Beginning to walk with him just a foot away, Nikto runs over his idea once more. 

With any hope, the stalker now had a personal vendetta against him for getting physically involved with you—he’d been looking up studies in his spare time while you were getting dressed; tapping his fingers along his phone stiffly. 

Only one sentence stood out to him, and it still stands out now as you go to wait in the elevator ahead of his looming form, eyes to the ground and hand massaging the back of your head. 

‘Stalkers like to get their target isolated; they’re selfish. They want the person all to themselves and dislike anyone who can possibly get in the way of that. Whether it’s a romantic partner, family, or friends, if they pose a roadblock for the stalker it can result in added stress or an urgency to act.’

Nikto moves to stand beside you, shoving a firm finger to the ground floor button and glaring at the wall, lips stiff from under fabric. 

If the man would come after him, then it would get you out of the spotlight at least for a short amount of time—perhaps it would even be enough to catch him. 

Maybe tonight, Nikto wonders silently, eyes narrowing as his feet settle. He will be there. We need to be ready. 

Your lungs breathe down a slow breath, taking in oxygen until your chest rises with the swell like a bag in the wind. This feeling is something you don’t know if you’ve experienced before beyond the sensation of having to relearn your limbs after your accident; an expectation and a draw, something just there but out of sight. 

Inebriating instability. 

Instead of your hands being shaky, now your mind was. 

Nikto is so close—so there beside you. You wanted to reach out to him, to hang off of his arm. To be something. It was pathetic of you, especially after he’d already assured you that you both would deal with the uncomfortableness of your prior affair. 

Was this his way of dealing with it? Avoidance? He didn’t seem the type, and you’d already known that he wasn’t. 

So it’s bigger, your face pulls in. But what? Why this…hesitation?

Your eyes spark. 

Hesitation, no. In the elevator, your arms tense as the small sound of the metal box meeting the ground floor echoes; Nikto also darts his head up, deep in his thoughts. You both share an unexpected side-eye, before the doors open and you hurry out on unstable feet as your face burns. This is fear. 

“What are you afraid of?” You whisper to yourself, hearing those boots behind you. 

At the Russian’s unease, you find your own doubling just as simply. 

Who could make a bear afraid of the forest?

—

As you enter the party, you go about business and try not to stay on the fact that you have just gone through one of the most uncomfortable car rides you’ve ever experienced.

Passing off your jacket and hearing the doors close behind you, your curated smile dims to an imitation of happiness, shoulders drooping. 

Nikto had only touched your arm to guide you along the sidewalk to this more humble residence—not at all like the previous party you’d been to. Every step and click off your heels had welcomed the same nervousness, however. 

You still didn’t know what you were going to do, but right now, it was more important to just calm yourself to a state of taking it moment by moment. If it all came down to it, would you need Nikto to guard you again? Order him to break more bones? Welcome the spray of black fluid and gray meat? 

“Nikto,” you address the Russian as he blinks over, fixing his hold on his M13. He doesn’t like this either—he doesn’t understand why you don’t listen to him and go to events like this. Nonetheless, he’ll follow and steer you clear of any situations you shouldn’t be in. It was his job to watch you, not force your hand.

Pale eyes level with you before they go to survey the foyer. “What is it?” 

“When all of this is over,” you utter, walking forward. “What will you do?”

The Russian pauses, heart stuttering. What would he do? That wasn’t the question he thought you were going to ask, but it’s a welcome distraction from the mess of his head. 

“Go back to KorTac,” he breathes, elbow brushing yours with his voice like rocks. “The contract will be over. I will not be needed anymore, да?”

You tilt your head, licking at the corner of your lips to push back the bead of fear that had settled into your stomach. “That makes sense,” your mind pulls a flat-falling tease. “But who will tell me what color of the paintings on the wall?”

Nikto’s hidden face is a stiff reflection of your own, scars tight. It’s a strange thing, he understands, the pressure on his chest that grows stronger. He’s so used to keeping secrets…why was this so hard for him?

“The blonde woman will be at your side, no doubt,” he grumbles, looking away from the image of your beauty and the silk of your dress. “She will tell you. I am not the only one able to understand the need for it.” Those feathers and pearls make a strung corset of utter angelic purity. 

Blood on my hands. 

He’d already tainted you enough, hadn’t he? When did sex suddenly become important to him? Weighted with…with care. There were so many times he could carelessly get his fill and leave with nothing mattering to him—just another way to get off and forget the formalities of waking up next to someone and making breakfast. 

But wasn’t that exactly what Nikto had willingly done with you? Willingly sat near you for breakfast, willingly allowed you to coax him into bed to be a pillow, willingly touched you? Like a loyal beast, he had. He had. 

You were a horrible creature. A beautiful, lovely, creature. Disgusting. Awe-inducing. As holy and as blasphemous as all of the monsters that sit on his shoulders; the ones he cannot name.

Nikto’s fingers pull into soft fists, and his gloves stretch. He grunts as your face falls a bit at his reply, your head nodding as he clenches his jaw until his molars scream. 

You were messing with his head again. It wasn’t like he wanted you to not understand his motives—he needed to focus. 

“I didn’t think Iakov was like that,” you change the subject as you both awkwardly move into the party, voices moving along the airwaves as you enter the large living room. “I’ve never seen him so angry.”

“Men like that care about money and power,” Nikto answers, keeping your body nearest to the wall as he sticks to your right. “He will never forgive you for letting him lose it.” Pale eyes jump from one set of curious gazes to another. “It is not in his nature. Waste of skill.”

“Isn’t money what everyone wants?” You mutter, staying close to him and nodding politely at those who look your way with digging gazes. “That's why I’m here.”

“You are not the same,” is the swift answer, shifting vision stilling on a man with blond hair that moves through the crowd, camera sitting around his neck as dark eyes meet Nikto’s own. The guard blinks, and the individual is lost to the crowd.

Looking at you, the Russian’s eyes narrow. “You are not selfish, did we not explain ourselves enough earlier?” 

“You said I was good,” you explain slowly. Not good enough to keep?

“I did,” Nikto grunts. “I say what I mean. We do not lie.”

“Too prideful for that,” your mouth pulls into a smile. “Aren’t you, Big Guy?”

His eyes swirl, low amusements littering the pale orbs like a sly cat. “Да, вот именно.” 

You huff, not understanding the words, but knowing they’re agreeing with you. It’s as if a glass wall is dissecting the space between your bodies. You can see Nikto—hear him and feel his presence, but you can’t touch him; can’t get the smudges off without a rag. A blurry mess of black and white, not a slash of color to be understood. 

This separation was thin but still there.

“What aren’t you telling me?” You have to finally push as you stop near the back of the room, as far away from anyone as possible, but it isn’t at all private. Eyes turn and fingers shift over wine glasses. It was quieter here, too. Not so blatant in its display of choking wealth, but still rich if decor was anything to go off of. 

Nikto’s amusement vanishes instantly, and he’s back to a careful blankness.

Stopping as well, he only waits a second before uttering, “I do not tell you many things, Seraph.” 

“You know that’s not what I mean,” you bounce off of him, hands moving up to motion softly as your face twists. Shame hits you in the chest, and you take a shaking breath. “...I knew it would end up being like this if you found out about all of it. All your job stated was a simple protection contract, not some—”

You stop yourself. 

Pale eyes don’t blink once as they keep themselves tight to you. Nikto lets his mind calm before he speaks. “Why are we here?” 

Your brows shift, and you open and close your mouth. “I don’t know. I’m hoping my boss might give me some credit for just showing up and not—”

“Then we are going now,” he growls, attention flying from one prying person to the next. There are too many eyes here—too many ears. Nikto knows who might be lurking. 

“Why,” you lightly push back, chuckling sarcastically. “I’m not in any danger, Nikto. At every turn, there aren’t any stop signs at the side of the road—at least here I have a grab at good wine and company that doesn’t hide the truth from me.”

Pale eyes flare. People start to turn your way. There’s a pause as if there’s something the Russian wants to state, but it fails on lips that you barely see rise from under his balaclava.

“I told you I do not lie, woman,” Nikto grunts, stature ridgid from where it spreads like a steady corruption; a shadow lengthening. 

You had always avoided confrontation—always. You hated it, and, currently, you hated this as well. But the stress was getting to you, the threat of losing everything on top of your own life. Nikto had become a lifeline, and now he was trying to pull back. 

Why?

Your face turns, and you stalk away. “Then do me a favor and stop telling me half-truths.”

—

If steam were able to come out of your ears, you would have filled the room with that heavy layer of your anger. Nikto was still stapled to you—unable to leave after what he now understood might come to fruition at these events if he did. 

So, you both stood. 

Silent.

Stoic.

Unsatisfied.

A dog without a bone left longingly glancing as if its eyes could speak all the words that needed to be explained on a human tongue. 

Your hands push at the base of your skull, massaging the forming headache that had grown from when Iakov had let himself into your hotel. You can’t wait until these parties are over—until you can get another call from the investigators saying that your stalker has been apprehended with Sergi’s statements. There needed to be a happy ending to this; needed. 

This can’t be all your life is meant to be. 

You didn’t come here thinking that you would be sleeping with someone. Currently, as you’re sipping down the second glass of wine brought to you, you can see the head of the man you’re supposed to be attending to. 

Borya Belov, or something close to that. Your coordinator had sent a text, but you’d barely looked at it and the picture attached. Large and middle-aged, he was up and coming in the city, generating impressive amounts of money and influence through his iron and steel plants. He knew your CEO, too—old family friends. 

Your eyes tear themselves away before he can look in your direction, frowning heavily. A rock and a hard place. 

You were foolish if you thought that by you being here it would allow you to keep your job without handing yourself over. It seems you’ve been foolish a lot lately. Your gaze sneaks to look at Nikto and only finds a rigid pole in his place. No under-the-breath jokes or knowing glances. No indecipherable emotions. It was just blank.

Shaking your head lightly, you bring the wine glass to your lips and take a large sip, letting the swell of it fill your mouth before it slips into your throat; tasting the bitter edge. With all of the blatant mess of emotions, it wasn’t any wonder why anyone hadn’t come over to talk to you. 

“All of these things are the same,” you speak to yourself quietly, trying not to sweat as Nikto’s body shifts closer when Iakov walks past the two of you stiffly. The pale-haired man sends you a dark look and you bite your tongue, eyelids narrowing with unease. 

Get dressed, speak gossip, get used, repeat. 

Already the trap had settled, routine following like a pet. 

Your fingers run over the glass in your hand, nails dragging as Nikto’s eyes stare from the side, thighs tightening before he rips his attention back to the party. He grunts and tilts his head, shoulders rolling. 

Focus.

It’s in the atmosphere of a taut rope that you hear the thin conversation from not that far away. 

“Look at him.”

Your ears quirk, but you don’t think of it much as you drink down the last dredges of your wine, licking at the corner of your mouth—careful of the lipstick. It was a group of women all turned into one another, muttering quickly and giggling even more so. 

“Which one?”

“The big bastard, obviously. How much do you think he eats, hm? I’m betting an entire kitchens worth a day.”

Pausing, your spine slowly begins to straighten up, face stuck staring into the wall far across the room. 

“I bet he’s hideous under all of that. Look at the mask—see?”

The round of muffled laughter behind silken gloves makes your heart jerk inside of your ribs as one of the photographers passes by Nikto and you, fiddling with his camera in his hands.

Beside you, the Russian either hears what’s going on and ignores it, or can’t and is simply not moving because he found someone in the crowd to pay attention to. 

Looking over now, you’d place your bet on the first. 

Nikto’s eyes are void, tiny pupils stuck in on themselves as he stares at nothing—his M13 is strangled under the grip of black gloves, and that little sliver of skin you see from his wrist has visible tension in it. He cracks his neck silently, sets his feet, and pretends.

Watching as he’s so apt to do to you, your anger-ridden face steadily freezes the longer your ears strain themselves to hear above the clink of glasses and useless chatter. Work and pleasure are zapped from your mind.

“You think so?”

“I am willing to bet on it—a thing like that is hiding its face because it has to. No soulmate, either. Go up and speak to him; I want to see.”

“But…what if he does have a soulmate? That woman beside him, isn’t that the one from Yekaterinburg? They could be—”

Nikto’s fingers twitch, eyes flashing. 

“If I had a soulmate that had to hide his face from me, I would think he was a beast. No one would want to be within five feet of that.”

Few things made you angry. 

Liars, cruelty, and the rest of the normal points that were on the list everyone keeps. But there was something particularly special about how you hated someone talking about Nikto like that. Forget him hiding something from you, forget his distance and his inability to speak about his emotions—you still cared about him deeply. The words he’d said to you, how he carries himself; his blunt honesty. 

Your heels are hitting the ground before you can remember you’re here to not make a scene.

“Excuse me,” you say, slipping into an easy smile as you nearly trip over your own feet as you settle near the group. All of their eyes widen, some turning around to lock gazes with the sudden arrival. “Could you repeat yourself for me?” You chuckle without humor. “I swear I had thought I heard you talking about my guard over here.”

Your chin moves to allow your eyes to settle over your shoulder, looking back at Nikto who had walked two steps after you initially before seeing where it was you were stomping to. His wide eyelids are snapped back like book covers, darting from you to the women as if utterly confused.

“That one,” you point casually before turning back. “The, uh,” your body leans a bit closer, hand coming up to your grinning mouth, “beast.” 

The gray shade on some of their faces darkened, a few stuttering through a Russian and English jumble of words. 

You blink at them as a familiar shadow begins to sit over you, heavy boots connecting to the floor. Your face burns, but there’s truth in your words—in your conviction. 

“Seraph,” Nikto says quietly in warning. 

“One moment,” is the response he gets. Pale eyes are stuck to the back of your head. He doesn’t know what to do, but in his throat, there’s an airy feeling stuck there that he can’t describe. It swells in his chest first, spreading through his veins.

Nikto was always used to being the one to stand in front of you. 

His heart is pounding, and he doesn’t know how to tell you to stop—that it doesn’t matter. The bigger question he should be asking is if he wants you to. The man wasn’t unused to comments. He can take it. But that fire behind your eyes rendered him speechless.

“His name is Nikto,” you say firmly. “Not that I expect you to remember it,” you tilt your head, looking them up and down. “In fact, I think it would be better if you didn’t.”

Huffing, you’re acutely aware of everyone watching, and your previous anxiety over your work is null. Disgust breeds like death flies. 

None of this was worth it. 

“Nikto,” you utter purposefully, setting your glass down on a side table and stepping behind. One of the Russian’s hands hovers over your back, the weapon resting on his chest clicking as it shifts. “We’re leaving. I don’t know why we came in the first place. There are more important things to worry about.”

“...Understood,” he levels, voice deep. Nikto blinks a few times, face under his mask layered with heat. There was no focusing when it came to you—his iron will was being smoothed down like a rock in water. 

You push past Borya Belov without a glance, looking to the side to see a shock-stricken Iakov burning you with his orbs. There was nothing for you here. 

Heels clicking over the floor, your dress ripples out behind you, unable to think beyond the deep insult you had taken on Nikto’s behalf. What gave those women the right to say anything? Especially about his appearance. 

When physical looks meant so much to you, you dreaded that being placed on someone else as well. Even if it was apparently obvious that Nikto suffered just as you did.

“You did not have to do that, Птичка.” A hand grasps your upper arm and guides you away from the table you were about to run into as you both enter the hallway stiffly. “It does not affect us. Useless opinions—they do not reflect my character.” Jumping only slightly from being ripped from your thoughts, your head darts over. 

You frown into a hidden face, Nikto stuck on the site of your pulled expression. 

Cute, he silently thinks in that jumbled mess of a brain before his memories flash to the sight of that picture on his phone. The hand leaves you in an instant, moving back to his M13.

“I know I didn’t,” you breathe sharply, shaking your head. Closing your eyes, your shoes halt as you stop.

Nikto follows suit, pausing before turning back with a furrow of his brows.

It’s a special thing, the way your desperation bleeds into your sentence. “Will you tell me what’s going on with you, or not?”

He stares, body pausing under your attention. 

“Nikto,” you breathe, far enough away from the main living room to indulge in a bit of horrific truth. “I like being with you,” your words slip. “I mean with you, with you. Y’know? I like you near me—watching over me. I don’t want this to become something that jeopardizes what we’ve built up. I’m not asking for a relationship, or even for you to tell me that you care about me, I just…” you fail to finish, eyes breaking off to glare at the floor; fighting against the sting. “You’re making my head spin,” your words dip lower, and Nikto flinches. “Just…tell me what’s wrong. You’re not acting right, and you’re worrying me.”

You don’t think you’ve been looked at this intently before now. Not by boyfriends, not by flings, or crushes. It’s a bare thing, Nikto’s eyes. A landscape of pale gray tundras and white snow—you don’t know what he’s thinking as he stands there like some Greek statue; Aries personified and dropped right in front of you.

You want that blood of his, that malice and incurable damage. Not to fix it—not to change what’s already scored into flesh—but just to see those eyes soften as they had a handful of times before.  

A war god and a white bird. 

Nikto’s throat bobs in a slow swallow as you finish, pulse hammering as his gloves suddenly constrict his hands far too much. He doesn’t want to tell you. He doesn’t want to explain why his distance is more for his benefit than yours. 

You push once more.

“What are you so afraid of?” 

“You.” He grunts stoic-like, and all of it falls into a swift silence thereafter. Your breath is taken on one great rapturous theft. Nikto stares as your jaw slackens, mind going blank. 

He darts his eyes away and tilts his head. 

“...Come. We do not want to be here any longer.” The Russian’s body is next to yours and in a fast movement, you find yourself being gently prodded along to the front door, jacket grabbed from the side of it and settled over your shoulders. 

Grasping at the corners, this moment is verging on irreparable—you’ve never found yourself so thrown off course besides when the inevitable advances from the stalker had come to you. 

Your hands shake in unsteady intervals as you blankly stare ahead. 

Me? 

The car is cold when you get into it, pulling your jacket closer as you slip across the seat—Nikto grabbing the long trail of your dress and making sure it stays inside. The man sits next to you, grabbing and slamming the door with a fist thumping the window twice. 

Under you both, the engine starts up and the tires push against the concrete. 

Your eyes ogle Nikto, and not once do they leave them even as the Russian pointedly ignores you by keeping his head locked forward. His body moves to the turning of the car, and your phone in your jacket pocket is going wild with call after call as his feet shift to steady himself unconsciously. It’s all a blur of needless sound and emotion. 

“Me?” Your voice finally finds itself; breathless. 

Nikto doesn’t react, spine so straight, the seats of the vehicle don’t touch anything. His fingers over his gun twitch before he grasps the cold metal harder to stop them. 

The Russian tries to halt the way his eyes want to gravitate to meet yours, trying to think over every face from the party and who had made any attempts to get near to you; just in case something pops up tonight. Yet, the hitting pain in his ribs is akin to something ripping them open with a fork, mutilating an entrance to his heart just to take and grasp it in soft hands.

He was never taught gentle love. Nikto was taught to grab and rip at it, to claw into it with fangs until there was blood on his face, seeping down his throat to settle in his stomach—hoping it might find a way to spread to his soul. 

Iakov had a key, the man catalogs, trying to fight his quivering fingers as you just can’t seem to look away from him with those eyes of yours. Does he have motive? Perhaps. We need to add him to the list regardless. I did not see any repeating faces from last night here unless they were in another room or waiting outside. 

Pale attention briefly pauses to the driver of the car, strong jaw clenching.

Drivers? Stylists? Who else could be here and not be noticed even by me? 

Eyes flash to the previous party again, back to the crunch of bone under his grip. Hands trailing flesh, ripped lace, and silk that pools at his dress shoes. The feral rubbing of a gun between two panting bodies. It should have been enough stress relief for the both of you—Nikto wasn’t lying when he equated the affair to something he could look past. He wasn’t new to flings; he considered himself a master of them in his youth. It wouldn’t have made him think any differently about the job, except for that one pin-pointed problem:

He was right behind us. 

Nikto’s mouth goes dry, anger brewing. He blinks to stare out the window, and your gaze is still present as if a knife to his throat.

It doesn’t leave once.

—

The hotel room is seeped in an eerie level of silence. 

You’d long since called Iakov—said a firm and swift answer of, “I’m done with the parties,” and hung up before the yelling could start again. 

You’re not even sure if you still have your job at AMA, but that’s for a later date, it seems. Not having an income was worse than the emotional turmoil that had settled right on your chest.

Leaning in the window seat of the bedroom, you keep your legs tucked in close to you with the curtain stuck at your back, head resting against the glass. White lights twinkle, but the places that aren’t illuminated are too dark to focus on—an amalgamation of shadows like a veil. The night was always difficult for you and your sight, but right now you think it’s best to just sit here and stare, even if it’s at nothing. 

Your eyes drag slowly along the thin view of the street below, feeling the cold seep in through the glass, softly easing the headache that pulses at your temple. 

“He’s…afraid of me?” The door to the room is slightly ajar, a sliver of light from the living room making its way in. Your face twists. “What does that mean?” 

You pose no threat to him without something like a gun, so it couldn’t be that. And what had changed since this morning? He’d let you lay next to him—see a part of his face. You’d traced his tattoo with willing fingers; Nikto hadn’t pushed you away then. 

What had happened? 

There’s a small squeak of the metal hinges of the bedroom door, and your head rises quickly. 

Nikto stands there, in only a white button-down shirt and his dress pants; normal mask re-stiuated. Blinking gently, a thick pause emanates before you glance down at his hands and see a soft display of an olive branch. 

The gruff hired gun holds a tiny, white, tea-cup. 

“Magnolia,” he huffs, not moving an inch as he motions with his hand, the ceramic material clinking. 

You stare, oversized shirt all to cover you besides your undergarments. You’d long since lost the sense of embarrassment of bare skin—particularly yours. 

Pale eyes slip to caress the image of your flesh bathed in the sliver of warm light, your curious eyes stuck on him as his feet re-situated themselves. 

“You remembered?” You ask, trying to sound casual beyond the surprise. 

Nikto blinks, voice muffled. “I do not forget when it comes to you,” he hums, accent thick. “Drink.”

Softly standing, your bare feet hit the coldness of the floor, yet you feel it little. Walking over to stand in front of him, your hand reaches only to bounce off the small tea plate instead, fingers flinching back lightly from the miscalculation. Your face heats, and you’re about to utter a quick apology before Nikto’s hand captures yours. 

Gasping under your breath, the warmth that seeps through his glove goes bone-deep as he manually wraps your digits around the handle. Nikto grunts in satisfaction and lets you take it to you, keeping the plate which he lowers his hand with.

After a moment, you clear your throat and say while staring down at the liquid, “Where did you get this?”

“Bag.” Your brows tighten.

He sighs gently. “We packed it. You forgot, yes?” 

“Oh,” you nod. “Yeah, I didn’t even realize I had left it behind. Thank you, Nikto.”

The Russian nods once, and then pivots to walk back to the living room, leaving you standing there as the sound of rummaging items in the kitchen echoes. Holding the mug, the tea rippling under your unsteady grasp, your head shakes itself in slow exasperation. The man wouldn’t talk about this unless you pushed him…but would that break the unsteady relationship you’d been trying to build?

“All of this is so confusing,” your lips mutter before your body follows after Nikto, slipping out into the light of the room as you blink rapidly in response. 

Locking sights on Nikto as he cleans up the counter, your form is wracked with an impending sense of nervousness. Damn him and his mask—you didn’t have something you could hide your emotions behind. 

It was times like these when you wished your mother was warm enough to ask advice from, that your father wasn’t back in the USA with limited involvement due to the peaceful contact order. You were alone here, except for Aly. But this was something that only a parent could help you with, and you were fresh out of those. You doubted that your mom knew everything going on—you weren’t about to tell her you’d allowed a ruthless killer to get you off in a storage room after you’d seen him snap a man's wrist back. 

Nor that you enjoyed it. 

It falls on me, your breath is thin as you breathe it down, steadily moving to set the teacup to one of the many tables holding useless decorations. You scowl at the boring interior design unconsciously before your focus locks in. 

What you had to do was bring up your points clearly and smoothly—

“Why are you standing there doing nothing,” your eyes widen as Nikto fluidly turns to look over his shoulder directly at you. His gaze narrows behind Kevlar and canvas. “If you want to say something, speak.”

“I want you to tell me what’s gotten you acting like a constipated bear,” you blurt out. 

It’s almost funny the way his eyes flinch. 

Nitko grinds out, “We do not understand.”

“You do,” you huff, crossing your arms as your voice bounces off the walls. “I don’t have infinite patience, believe it or not.” Inside of your sockets, you feel your gaze soften; voice lowering to the level you’d raised it. “I think I’ve been honest with you, Nikto. I’m not trying to push you into a corner. You know that. I need an explanation,” you take a breath, “and you’re going to give it to me.” 

Pale eyes move to the side, and you visibly see the large Russian’s body fighting itself both internally and externally. You had noticed a few things from the time you’d come under his protection, some obvious—Nikto valued cooking and a clean place to rest; he liked reading, and a silence built on mutual respect. Nikto’s fingers twitched when he was either nervous or trying to focus. He tilted his head when he needed to think. 

You liked to think that you knew him quite well, despite it all. You especially knew his fraying patience. 

Nikto’s shoulders roll, bones cracking from under the button-up. His masked face is the only thing he feels gives him protection. A cover. 

“It is not something,” the man begins slowly, trying to convince you, “that you need to concern yourself with.” 

Your lips thin out, feet taking you forward as you shiver from the cold of the hotel. 

“Nikto,” you utter again, softly knocking your side into the counter before you can stand in front of him yourself. He looks down at you, chest moving up and down in slow breaths. 

You know the horrors that live under that fabric. The great scars—the burns that had slipped into your dreams as you’d laid on his thigh like a child afraid of the dark. You can remember the dips of them under your fingertips; the trauma that bleeds still. 

You’d called him beautiful, and of course you had, but the very base of it still left you cold with a betraying sense of sickness. Same with the lower half of his face, which you’d only chosen to see a glance of. It was a deep rolling of your stomach. You cared more for the marks he had put on, willingly, himself; the tattoos. Dark ink.

But that didn’t stop you from reaching out to him—responding to that addictive pull that had always seemed to be there from the moment you’d first met him in the Consulate Building. 

Your fingers hover over Nikto’s pec, right above his heart as you swallow saliva and stare with parted lips. Piercing eyes give way to nothing, but there’s a knowledge in the heart that beats above your waiting touch. 

You tilt your head and wait silently.

Nikto’s pulse moves his flesh, and he can feel every drop of blood under his skin. 

“It does not need to be explained to you,” he tries again, his firm words now only comparable to the sensation of rocks thrown along the sand. Salt-stained throat raw as your fingers brush his shirt. “Seraph,” Nikto attempts a tone of authority.

“Call me by the other one,” you mutter, and it’s pathetic the way he responds to your request in that hotel kitchen. Like a soldier following an order. A whining little dog beholden to a white-lace collar.

“Птичка.”

Your smile makes him want to rip himself away from you and take a cold shower, maybe stare at his scars; even break his mind again before it slips away to thoughts of your curling lips and your shining eyes. 

“That’s it,” you whisper, and your hand flattens over his heart as his gaze breaks away to the simple contact, blinking in confusion as his flesh pulls tight. “That’s the one.” 

But he was more surprised when he didn’t flinch rather than when he shivered. 

It’s only after a small moment of nothing that he lets himself bathe in the warmth of your skin and the scent of your perfume as it slips under his mask. A mask that has seen far too much death for you to bear. Then he’d want you to bear.

Your words make his bones ache.

“Tell me,” you urge, as perfect as a bird’s dew-coated feathers.

Nikto’s vision is stuck only to you, and his greatest fear is that this is all it will ever be bound to—not by honor, the man had no such thing, but by utter devotion. There was no lying about it now as his lips parted, those cut and torn-up things like a ragged jigsaw puzzle of pain. He cares not about soulmates or brain trauma. Blood or bile.

He cares about the sound a silent grave will make when his bones are the ones that chain themselves to rest beside yours. 

Mutt.

Now that, maybe, would seem an honor-coated title to carve into his corpse, but only if it was in reference to his affection for you.

“Picture,” Nikto grinds out, fighting to step closer to the addictive sensation of your touch. The warmth. The pound of blood. You listen silently, and not once do those eyes separate.

“Sent to my phone.” He pauses, and suddenly his voice is very low—you can feel it in your chest as it rumbles the walls, the floors; the bedroom door. It’s difficult to say how you feel when he explains it to you, there’s something relieving in knowing, though. Yet, it still makes your throat close in on itself. “Of us.”

“From the stalker?” You ask, already knowing the answer but hoping it might have just been a fluke. 

Pale eyes don’t blink.

“Да. From him.”

You take a large breath, nodding as your fingers quiver over Nikto’s dress shirt, creasing the fabric slightly. He takes a quick glance down at them again, and his own twitch at his sides.

“...Don’t tell me the details?”

“Never,” the Russian sighs, clenching his jaw. “Я бы этого не сделал. We did not want to explain, regardless.” 

You shrug as well as you’re able, hand beginning to slowly slide off of him. “Still,” your lips pull into a steady smirk, though it lacks enough amusement to make it convincing. “I’m glad you told me—I was getting worried that it might have been by fault you were acting strange.” 

“My emotions are,” Nikto struggles for the correct word in English, grunting as his mouth closes under his mask. He glares at the wall behind you as if a toddler without a snack.

You tilt your skull, tiny chuckles wafting out of your mouth. 

“Stuck, Big Guy?”

“Enough,” he grumbles, feet re-situating themselves from under him. 

Your hand is only a millimeter away from his flesh before his grip finds your wrist and brings it back, digits caressing to press into your pulse. You blink quickly, air getting stalled in your nose. 

Nikto’s eyes slowly dip to stare at your hand, and you notice the shades even more clearly now that you’re so close to him—though they’d always just be pale gray to you, there were moments when you wondered the true color. A silly dream, seeing as you wouldn’t know how that color would look anyway, but, still. 

The Russian’s large fingers turn your wrist. 

“Your heart is racing,” he mutters. If having your bodyguard check your pulse was something that you found attractive, now was only the realization of it. 

Your face suddenly feels like you’re walking on the sun, and a small noise in the back of your throat makes Nikto’s attention leave the fast thump of your blood.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Your breathless question eases out past your lips like a soft flutter of wings. 

“Hm,” Nikto hums, and you can also see his throat bobbing. His hold squeezes, his face looming just the tiniest bit closer to yours. 

The Russian takes a chest-rising inhale and speaks.

“I am not good,” he mutters, eyes moving the dips and drags of your face—it feels like his gaze is touching you when he stares like that; studying your visage as if he’d be tested on it. “We are not…” He blinks, and his pupils are small voids of inky corruption. “Perfect.” 

You wonder how often he’d found you in his mind, and feel both foolish and hopelessly lost in his shadow.

“I never said you were,” you murmur back, seeing the wickedness in his heart. Painted on his skin. “I think it’s lovely.” 

Here is where this should end—you’d both had your fun previously. You’d been sipping your sugar water like a little hummingbird; reveling in the intimacy of that storage room. You should be thinking about the stalker, about your job, about what will happen tomorrow when you open your eyelids to light through the curtains. 

Not about how Nikto’s fingers would feel digging into your hips. Not the panting of fast breaths. Not how the color of his eyes would be, perhaps, the most beautiful shade you could ever hope to imagine in your damaged brain. 

“Nikto,” you breathe, body light. He’s as still as a statue above you, not saying a thing. “What color are your eyes?”

“Blue.”

And then you’re being picked up as if a doll by the back of your thighs and hefted up with a throaty huff akin to a boar. Your forehead connects with his, and your arms wrap his neck to hang off with crossed wrists. 

“Blue?” Your legs tighten around his waist, squeezing as the man’s nose pushes into yours. Breath bounces off the mask, your eyes flutter at the firm press of fabric prodding at your underwear. You fight a small whine, bodies tight to one another. “Your hair?”

“Brown,” is the puff from under the mask, and tiny pupils dilate the longer you hold eye contact.

Your hips roll, and Nikto’s strained grunt reverberates against your chest. “Tell me it in Russian.”

“Карие.” He growls, fingertips digging into your flesh like the teeth of a bear trap. Nikto thumps past the place where you’d set your tea, completely forgotten by everyone just like the previous tension was. 

When the two of you were together, things managed to get out of hand quickly—at least, emotionally-wise. You both were utterly hopeless, just as the room was now far from the cold monochrome wash of white. It was bathed in spraying sparks lit behind your eyes when one of Nikto’s hands staples itself to the base of your back, just above the curve of your tailbone, and angles your core further into the growing prod of his erection. 

You gasp as your pelvis jerks, face twisting up with your pulse impossibly increasing. 

“You are curious,” Nikto pants, pushing past the bedroom door with a shoulder as the handle smashes into the wall. Not that you care. “You push me, Woman. Leave my head loose and my body aching.” You feel the way your core burns, aches, nearly, as your underwear gets wet with the anticipation of flesh. 

Your lips sear Nikto’s soul when they push to the canvas of his mask—just as they had in the storage room though now it’s harder to feel. 

“Don’t act like you don’t like it, Big Guy,” you whisper, tongue darting out to lick at your lips, eyes half-lidded. 

That pull between the two of you only seems to increase as you’re dropped back to the bed, head pointedly planned to slap a pillow as you involuntarily gasp. Your shirt is ruffled up to your breasts, and the sheets are around you like a cocoon of expensive finery—eyes darting to Nikto, you find his gaze easily standing beside the bed. 

He stares at you like you’re the greatest meal ever placed in front of him. Forget the items he cooks, forget the things he’d eaten, even forget the way it satisfies him; nothing could compare to even the thought of what he now has. 

You’re staring at a man with blood on his hands and wishing he would spread you open already. 

Nikto’s chest bounces with a pleased noise, gaze shifting to study your bare legs and arms—the stain that coats your underwear, spreading by the second as your thighs tighten in on themselves to trap the chill. Your face is on fire, and your lungs heave.

His ravaged hand grasps at your knee, coaxing them back open as he says a simple order with a raw voice, “Keep them open.” 

You’re not embarrassed with how you listen, letting the limbs be forced back to display your instinctual need to the large Russian. Your thin whine is choked back as his fingers run up and down your clothed core, teasing. 

Nikto chuckles, and you shiver. 

“We do like it,” he breathes out in response to your previous comment. Pale eyes dart to find and lock with yours—not leaving as his index and middle finger find your clit, pressing firmly and lightly rocking up and down. Your hips jerk as you bite on a shocked moan, relishing in the sudden ricochets of electricity that run your bones. 

Head tilting back, you bite your lip and pant out, “Nikto, yes.”

His fingers leave just as quickly as the words do you, and your desperate eyes move with near pain until your hand darts to grapple onto Nikto’s wrist like a cat. He lets you try and guide him back firmly, to no avail, before you grit your teeth and glare at him, opening your mouth.

Yet, the Russian’s hidden face finds your ear with no trouble and leaves your upcoming words frozen.

“But we like it better when you are too choked on pleasure to think at all.” 

Nikto moves back, taking his other hand and making yours release him before he steps away. He blinks, watching your aroused state as you stutter over your sentence; smirking to himself and tilting his head as if you’re an exhibit in a museum. The man grunts, now free grip able to slide to his belt slowly and fiddle with the buckle.

“Y-you’re horrible,” you grumble, eyes unable to stay on the image for long before you have to slash it away so you can breathe. The clinking of metal

“We did warn you,” Nikto pauses, his voice so laced with smugness that it seemed an insult. “Птичка.” 

Your lower body shifts, trying to satiate the urge for stimulation. 

Breathing heavily, you raise your forearm and put it over your eyes, expression tight as you try and focus. Your ears twitch to Nikto’s steady undressing, hearing the pull of dress pants and the unclipping of a thigh holster. Each sound sends a pulse directly to your weeping slit, and it becomes so strong that Nikto can only watch as your other hand slips under the elastic of your panties. 

He stops himself instantly, his eyes pulling back as he pauses. Slipped out of everything besides his shirt, boxers, and obviously his mask, Nikto’s shoulders tense wildly at the sight in front of him.

Your body is tight as you begin to breathe heavier, lips slightly open as your fingers idly roll your bundle of nerves a bit harder. Hips jerking every so often, your fingers stretch the fabric of your garment as your toes curl. 

“Fuck,” you breathe, jaw clenching and eyes closed from under your forearm. 

Nikto is firmly planted, the firmness in his boxers now seemingly to a point of no return—his fingers twitched to dig into your skin, his eyes stuck to how you were playing with yourself. Clothed in only a large shirt that was bunching up further to allow a glimpse of your breasts and hearing those tiny little noises escape your mouth…

“Harder,” Nikto grunts, his own hand slipping into his boxers as he hisses in pleasure at the state of himself. Firm in his grip as he wraps his fingers around the hot pulse of his cock, groaning when his thumb slips along his tip to collect the beads of pre-cum.

Your breath hitches and through your soft pants, you sigh as your arm slides, “I think I know how to—”

Your fingers twitch harshly as your eyes flutter open to lock onto the scene in front of you, causing you to moan before it strangles off with a quick noise in your throat. Eyes wide, you watch Nikto begin jerking himself off one slow stroke at a time, his thighs tense as his other hand moves to unbutton his shirt one at a time.

There was something so inherently intimate about seeing the other in the throws of self-pleasure, half-clothed and desperate for something that can’t be named. The chain of events was building, and some concerns needed to be addressed, but it isn’t fair to have to put your life on hold for them—necessary, yes, eventually. But Nikto’s eyes were so hellishly pale, and your hands were shaking, and the scent of sex was permeating inside of your nose. It’s different than the storage room, it’s hinged on the knowledge that this bear of a man is afraid of you, which in and of itself is unfathomable, and that he was in such a sour mood simply because he had been trying, once more, to spare you from the unseen threat. 

He had done it with the birds in the box, he’d done it when you’d gotten the first pictures sent to you, and he did it every time he let you hang off of his arm. 

You push your digits across your clit harder and whine out as Nikto’s open dress shirt slips to his waist, the cuffs rolled up as bare skin meets the darkness of the room. That sliver of light from the door was all that was needed, the barrier having slowly crawled its way back from where the Russian had shoved it, to witness the bulge and dip of scar tissue—the shades of hyperpigmentation. 

And you wanted to drag your nails along all of them.

“Смотреть на себя,” Nikto’s chest heaves, the bulk of his frame just the same as when you’d touched along his back. His hand inside of his boxers stutters, and his eyes flinch closed for a moment, masked face tilted. “Хорошим слушателем. Good for us, hm?”

“Touch me,” you ask, unconsciously mirroring Nikto’s pace as the sensitivity of your core heightens, leaking out to stain your underwear to the point it’s no use to keep them after this. Your spine is tight—begging to be arched just as your cunt begs to be filled. It tightens over nothing, and you whimper with a push of thin breath. “Please, Nikto, you filled me so well last time.”

His eyes glint, that Russian pride bleeding to fill the cup in his abdomen. Nikto smirks, but you can’t see it above the large hand that goes to grip your face, angling it to him as his other hand continues with the wet slapping of his cock. You want to see it—you want to watch it. Damn him he’s making this into a game of cat and mouse.

“What is that? You like when we fill your tight cunt, Птичка?”

Your face burns, and your eyes study his own as your pace below increases—rotting wood taking root beside sweat and pheromones. 

Nikto’s grip squeezes and you hear the rutting of flooded skin more clearly as he looms over your body, both fucking yourselves for no other reason than liking the sight and the sounds of the other.

“Answer.”

“Yes,” you stutter, unable to stop the thin noises from your mouth that follow—the cord in your abdomen pulling until taunt. “God, yes.”

“Not God,” the Russian chuckles before he groans, forehead connecting with yours as it rocks to the rabid abuse of his own hand, trying to imagine the sensation of your walls against them instead of his calloused fist. Your flesh would be softer than his ever could be, and the knowledge of that is enough to reduce him to a mindless beast. His breath hitches tightly, his hand moving rapidly, unconcerned about how fast his release is finding him just by hearing your little pleas. “No, Seraph, there is no God in this room.”

When he drinks down the sounds you give him he feels your body tense one final time, your lips flattening as your eyes flutter—only seconds away from your orgasm, perhaps. 

Nikto’s hands leave your face, and so does his forehead. You barely notice, truth be told until it’s not a second later that fingers are gripping the hand down your panties and dragging it out just as your hips begin rising off the bed. 

“No!” Your desperate keen echoes off the walls, eyes snapping open to rip your head down to the scene. Nikto was lacking his shirt, boxers are gone, and as he staples your arm beside your head, his body drags itself atop yours until his weight is as firm as stone. “Nikto, why did you—?”

“Hush,” he utters, knocking your leg up over his hip in a swift thrust that leaves the leaking tip of his dick prodding against your sopping cunt. Your eyelids flutter at the sensation, painting only to have your breasts shove into a sweaty chest.

“So close,” you beg, the feeling of your release draining away, leaving you irritated and unsatisfied. 

Your hips roll in a play to find friction, and the feeling of Nikto’s happy trail seems promising as you grind up into it, but there’s only so much you can do when the man’s other hand snags your waist and pushes you down.

You glare heatedly up into blown and smug eyes. 

You know better than to ask him to remove the mask, and now that you look at it, maybe that wasn’t the worst thing in the world. There was something alluring in those eyes, set into the dark void around them, deadly and numb, yet showing more emotions than anyone else would be able to tell besides you. 

“Let us help,” Nikto pushes himself up, grinding into your core as your glare breaks away into blown need. “I have something better than fingers. Show you how good it can be, yes? Show how you are supposed to be treated, Little Bird.”

Your hands slide up to his shoulder blades and he groans under his breath, taking in the sensation of nails along flesh, catching on the scars until they settle. Had he not imagined this before? Had he not fantasized? Desired? Sinful, yes, but he’d do it again if he could still feel the wet fluids of your arousal coating his abdomen. If this was the outcome of Nikto becoming locked in his own stoic emotions, there was a part of him that was greedy because of it.

There was no possible way that this was going to continue…right? 

His ears twitch to your voice as your legs shift to wrap the top of his hips, dragging his pelvis ever closer until he’s fighting the wave of agony by not having your cunt pulse around him. 

On your part, there wasn’t an ounce of hesitation.

“Then show me.”

It’s easy to slip the tip of himself inside of you—there’s enough fluid to render even the thought of dry friction impossible. Nikto's body shudders at the sensation, though it’s only a small portion of what you both need.

Your head rocks back, fingertips digging into the Russian’s shoulders as you both curse at the stretch of your folds. You hadn’t been able to gawk at the build of the man tonight—both too desperate for release—but thinking about how he gives small thrusts to help himself along, his eyes not moving from you unless to blink, you’d safely say he was well-endowed.

“Fuck,” your lips quiver, sweat at your brow. Through the whimper, you moan, a large thumb finding your clit and rolling as the sound of squelching echoes between the groans and whines. You’re both nothing but damn animals. “Could have,” you gasp, and Nikto stops before you shake your head and pull him closer. “Could have given a girl a warning, Big Guy.”

His strained chuckle only makes your core welcome him more, and the feeling of textured veins and warm flesh steadily driving itself home was addicting. Sex had never felt as fun as this. As safe.

Nikto made it safe.

“Apologies,” he grunts out, great form above you before you feel the nested base of his pelvis connect with yours. 

You both shake and your face is open with a pleasure-driven emotion as the Russian slides his head to your shoulder, his breath echoing from under his mask into your ear. He licks his lips, grip on your waist and arm pulsing with steady intervals of—tense, release, tense, release…

“Are you—”

“Fucking hell, please start moving,” you gasp out, grinding into him as the string on Nikto’s caution flees like a loose animal. 

His hand travels back from your waist to your hip, the other to the back of your neck, and as he staples his forehead to yours, he grinds out a quiet, “да,” and moves himself out of you nearly all the way as your eyes roll to the feeling. 

When the bed starts knocking the wall, there’s little to the imagination as to what’s taking place, and the steadily rising sounds mean nothing as sheets rustle and skin slaps faster, both sensitive from such near releases earlier. There are mutters in Russian, fast, harsh things that hold no venom—slow mutters that make your legs go numb long after both of you had finished. 

Nikto was right: for such a brute, he did know how to treat a woman. Well, maybe he just knew how to treat you right. 

Multiple times.

TAGS:

@anna-banana27, @random-thot-generator, @midwesternwitchery, @pumpkinwitchcrusade, @halfmoth-halfman, @alpineswinter, @blingblong55, @cryingnotcrying, @lxne20, @not-eclipse, @theecoffeebean, @phoenixhalliwell, @h3ll-guttz, @tiinkerbell, @genjilvr, @azush4rp, @escapefromrealitysm, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @finnigansxz, @cowboybaby2, @delaynew, @doggydale, @zapphir, @littlemisstrouble, @xxtmoe, @grizzersmamma, @andreas-river, @blogdddxx, @jade-jax, @emthegrace, @lovebugmsyd, @makariaspresence, @noisyprofessorhoundsalad-blog, @scythebot, @blueoorchid, @kra-rino4ka, @caramlizedtomatoes, @strawberymilk,@frazie99, @homicidal-slvt, @develised, @crispyhusband, @cathnoneofyourbusiness, @ghostslittlegf, @generalcloudtraveler, @azsteris, @rvjaa, @creminemisinthehizzyforshizzboy, @comsyki

#ravishing allure #cod #cod x reader #cod x you #call of duty #x female reader #call of duty x you #mwii nikto #nikto x reader #cod nikto #nikto #cod modern warfare #call of duty mw2 #cod mw22 #mw2 2022 #mw2 #call of duty x reader #cod mw2 #call of duty modern warfare #modern warfare 2 #call of duty mwii #cod x female reader #x fem!reader #female reader

[sunarc]

Synopsis: Falling for gojo was one of your worst mistakes, but loving him when you know he could never love you back was an even bigger mistake.

CW:gojo is an ass, fuck boy gojo,angsty, situationship, oral f receiving, alittle blood not during sex, ownership, reader gets jealous, reader is a bit possessive, fuck boy gojo, 5.1k words

A/N: this is for @honeybleed ‘s RnB collab! i am super late but yeah lol

tags: @eveningatthemoviesnetwork

Being around Satoru made your palms sweaty. It was embarrassing to say, but you couldn’t help the bubble of emotions that seemed to burst inside of you when he was near. His presence alone could send your heart on a never-ending race. His eyes could make you melt within seconds with just one look. You always found yourself gazing into them, wondering what secrets they held. They’re so bright, so blue, and so pure. His eyes alone could cause emotions you had never experienced before. You could stare at them for days, stuck in a blue trance that you never wanted to escape. You knew he wasn’t good for you. You had told yourself you needed to let go a thousand times before. When you first laid in his bed, allowed his fingers to graze so delicately against your skin, and allowed his lips to press against your body with lustful hunger, you knew he’d be trouble. You knew he was bad for you when he held your body close to his, caressed your skin with his tender touch after a steamy session, and told you he enjoyed being friends with you. Yet somehow you continuously found yourself being drawn into him, constantly breathing in his musk while he held you close, constantly pushing your feelings away just so you could have one more intimate moment with him.

‘This is the last time’ It was a mantra that went into one ear and out the other. You could never seem to follow through with it whenever you found yourself wrapped in his arms.

You sat silently in the backseat of Getou’s car, fiddling with the wheel of your brand-new skateboard. You weren’t a skater. You had never stepped foot on a board before. It was embarrassing to say, but you had only brought a board because you thought it would give you more time to spend with Satoru. You were overwhelmed with nerves, practically holding your breath the entire ride. You felt like an overfilled glass waiting to run over. One little drop, and you’d spill like a glass of milk. This was the first time you were skating. You had only agreed to go because Satoru promised to teach you. You recalled his bright eyes shining with excitement as you asked. The way his lips curled upward into a sly smile as he pulled your naked body closer to his made you melt. You wanted to be covered in the warmth of the light that seemed to radiate off of him.

“Something on your mind?” Shoko asked, blowing smoke in your direction.

You coughed and waved the cloud of cigarette smoke away before giving her an angry look.

“Just nervous is all,” you whispered.

“Don’t be nervous, skating is like walking, anyone can do it." Satoru turned around from the front seat with a bright smile and chipper voice.

"Oh, that's not-” Getou started but was soon cut off by Satoru’s intoxicating voice.

“And besides, if you break a bone, then you’ll officially be a part of the skater community,” he said as if it were an initiation into the skater world.

Shoko nodded her head hesitantly. "Well, I can agree with that part. The first time I broke a bone was after I landed a 720 flip, the best bone break I’ve had to this day.”

You sat nervously listening to the three of them share past stories of the bones they had broken. If you weren’t nervous before, you were damn near shitting yourself now.

“Thanks, guys, this conversation helped so much,” you said, sarcasm dripping in your voice.

Gojo turned around, giving you a smirk that made your heart flutter.

“Don’t worry, if you fall I’ll be there to catch you,” he gave you a wink.

The smallest things could make your heart feel like it was about to explode. You bit your lip in a failed attempt to hide the smile that was forming. He was like a burst of sunshine through a terrible storm, always there to make things better. You hated admitting it, and you’d never actually say it out loud, but you were in love. Head over heels in love with Satoru. Being around him made you feel like you were floating on cloud nine bursting with an overwhelming feeling of devotion. You could only pray that he felt the same. You were stuck in an intricate web of wonder. Did he love you the way you loved him? The way he’d make you feel when he was around screamed yes, but everything seemed to lead you in the opposite direction. You couldn’t bring yourself to ask him for the nth time what the two of you were, only to get the same reply of “We’re just chilling,” paired with a passionate kiss to take your mind off of it. You didn’t want to 'chill'. You wanted passion. You wanted the kind of love shared between Achilles and Patroclus, where he’d walk for miles wailing your name because he craved you in your absence. The kind of love like Orpheus and Eurydice, where he’d travel to the depths of hell just to bring you back to him. You wanted the kind of love where he would memorize the thrumming of your heartbeat so well that he’d recognize you just from the sound of it alone. You craved his love almost in an animalistic way, you craved him.

“We’re here people.” Getou’s voice pulled you from your manic thoughts.

You looked around, observing every person in the park. Everyone seemed so professional compared to you. You got out of the car, standing to the side, awkwardly swaying side to side holding your board. Your nerves were getting the best of you as you compared yourself to those around you. Their scratched and dirtied skateboards mocked your pristine, untouched board. You didn’t belong here. You felt anxious watching everyone with experience skate around you.

"Breathe, babe.” Shoko leaned next to you on the car. "You look like you're about to have a heart attack."

You let out a soft laugh. Satoru and Suguru had run off to start skating, leaving you and Shoko behind.

“I feel like an unprepared freshman entering high school. Everyone seems so good here,” you exclaimed “I feel like I'm going to embarrass myself in front of him” 

Shoko already knew about the ‘him’ you were speaking of. She had warned you a million times before to be careful with him, and every time you just brushed it off as her being too worrisome.

“I had a feeling,” she said, lighting her cigarette “You were sweating like you were in a sauna in the car.”

You scoffed and brushed your palms against your pants.

“I was just a little hot!" you exclaimed, making an excuse.

“The windows were down."

“I just want to impress him,” you whined childishly.

She rolled her eyes.

“You want to impress the same guy who just left you in a place you’ve never been before?”

You turned around to see the man of the hour mingling with Suguru. He was poking the cheek of a tall, blond-haired guy who looked as if he was completely over the entire interaction. You turned back to Shoko with an eager smile.

“He’s just excited. He’ll pay more attention when he’s teaching me." You excused his behavior as you grabbed her hand, dragging her over to the two.

You walked over to the chaos, reminding yourself to take deep breaths.

“Hi,” you chimed in, embarrassed at how your voice somehow cracked.

Satoru turned to you, giving you a welcoming smile, and from just a glance, you felt a whirlwind of emotions.

"Hi." His voice was soothing.

It was just the two of you. No intimidating skaters, no Shoko reminding you of how he isn't good for you, just him and his gentle voice.

“Ready to skate pretty?” The nickname made you swoon.

You nodded your head eagerly. Satoru grabbed your hand, pulling you away from the group. You followed behind him with a longing smile. You felt like the main character in a movie living out your dreams. His hand was so soft. He was warm. You never wanted to let him go.

“Welcome to my world, pretty girl. You ready to become one with the board?” He asked as he held your face with a serious gaze.

You were in a somewhat secluded area of the park. You nodded your head, too focused on the way his eyes glistened in the sun to focus on his words.

"Alright, get on the board,” he said, letting you go.

You were in an empty space away from what you considered experts, but Satoru somehow considered novices. Geto and Shoko were off skating doing tricks you could only dream of.

“Will you hold my hand?” Your voice was soft as if you were afraid of his answer.

Gojo was a kind person, one of the friendliest guys you had ever been with. You knew he’d say yes, but you somehow feared a reaction from him anyway.

“Of course,” he said, slipping his hand into yours, his eyes watching you steadily. His smile was soft as he watched you. You stepped onto the shaky board. You felt like a baby, learning to walk for the first time. As you were gathering the courage to place your other foot on the board, you slipped and fell into him. His hand wrapped around your waist as he caught you. You were pressed against his chest, gripping his arm tightly.

“I told you I’d catch you,” he whispered gently.

This was the Satoru you had fallen in love with. The one who would catch you no matter what. He held you up straight on the board, holding both of your hands.

“We’re going to move now, okay?” He spoke lowly. His voice was comforting. You felt like you could do anything with him around.

He took slow steps, moving you on the board. You wobbled, leaning into him ever so often. You let out a soft laugh when you picked up speed a bit.

“You’re doing it,” he laughed with you, proud of your accomplishments. “I bet you’ll be a better skater than me in no time,” he whispered the words as if they were meant for you and you alone.

You smiled with a wordless reply.

"Satoru,” you heard Getou call for him.

Satoru’s eyes were trained on you, keeping you balanced as he replied quickly, “Hold on."

You held onto him as he walked with you on the skateboard, allowing you to get used to being on the board.

“I’m gonna let go soon, okay?" he spoke “Don’t panic, just keep your balance and breathe.” His voice was steady as he spoke to you.

You felt so at ease listening to his gentle words. Confidence surged through you as he gently pulled away, setting you free to sail. You let out nervous laughter as you continued rolling. You stood up straight, feeling braver.

“I’m doing it, I’m really doing it, Toru,” you called out to him, excitement racing through your blood. You turned your head in the direction he had previously been, searching for his smiling face, only to see him gone. Your wide eyes filled with disappointment as you turned your head, searching for him.

“Satoru?” You called out for him.

Your attention was so focused on the blue-eyed boy missing in action that you failed to see the upcoming railing blocking your path. Before you knew it, your body was going one way and the skateboard the other. You lay face-first on the ground, groaning from a mixture of pain and embarrassment. Your mind could barely focus on the pain from your bleeding knee due to fear that he had seen you fall. You sat up, watching your skateboard slowly roll away from you. What a great day to wear shorts without knee pads. Shoko walked over to you and held out her hand, which you gladly took. Your eyes searched for the boy who had failed to catch you. Your heart felt as if it had been sliced into pieces once you saw him. He was far off, standing with Getou and a girl with short brown hair. She was, in simpler terms, gorgeous. Gojo threw his head back, laughing at something she was saying. Not only was she pretty, but she was also funny.

“So much for being there to catch you,” Shoko grumbled as she helped you stand straight.

“Who’s that girl?” you asked.

Your eyes stared woefully at the two. It wasn’t like you were jealous, of course, he could have friends who were girls.

“You’re bleeding are you okay?”

“She’s really pretty." You spoke, lost in thought.

“It’s not too bad I have some bandages in my bag.”

“Do you think he saw?”

“I don’t know; let me check.”

Shoko turned to look at the three mingling. Gojo was leaning into the girl, smirking softly as she spoke to him, never breaking eye contact. His hand moved to push a stray hair behind her ear, and you watched as a soft blush appeared on her cheeks. You felt like you were third-wheeling with how intimate their conversation seemed to be. Getou was long gone skating with other friends, leaving the two behind. Her eyes stared into his with that same look you knew all too well. Those damn blue eyes were trapping her in the same way they did you.

“She’s really pretty.”

“I wonder where I’ve heard that before.”

“Do you think she’s a good skater?” You wanted to tear your eyes away from them, but you couldn’t pull away from the sight of him flirting right in front of you.

“Stop comparing yourself." You fell silent at Shoko’s words, “Her beauty does not invalidate yours.”

You looked down, ashamed of your jealousy. You couldn’t help the anger and jealousy that boiled inside of you watching him mingle with someone who wasn’t you. Shoko wiped your knee clean as she continued her rant.

“Stop letting his validation define your worth,” she whispered.

Disappointment was laced in her voice. It wasn’t that she was particularly disappointed in you. She was disappointed in how you completely lost yourself in Gojo. He had somehow controlled your every waking being. His passions were your passions, and his dislikes were yours. You were engulfed in the desire to be everything he wanted, yet there he was right before your eyes, proving to you yet again that you were nothing more than just a pretty girl who gave it up to him.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice was barely above a whisper as you watched Shoko sit next to you.

“Don’t apologize to me, apologize to yourself,” she said as she lit another cigarette. “And don’t forget to forgive yourself; that’s the most important part.”

You sat in silence, watching everyone around you. Shoko promised to stay with you for the rest of the day because she was tired of skating. She sat scrolling mindlessly with her head on your shoulder. Your eyes scanned the park, never failing to land on the boy you just couldn’t seem to get out of your head. His attention was all over the girl you had deemed a goddess in disguise. She was pretty, funny, and a damn good skater. You watched mesmerized at the tricks she was pulling off.

"Damn, she’s good,” you whispered.

“That could be you if you want to practice some more, don’t worry, I’ll actually be here," Shoko commented

You sat for a moment, contemplating the idea. Skating wasn’t really your thing. You were slightly disappointed that you were just coming to this realization after paying damn near 100 dollars for your board.

“I actually don’t think skating is for me,” you admitted.

Shoko hummed in response, too engulfed by a TikTok video.

The sun was finally going down when Getou walked over skateboard in hand.

“You two kids ready to go?” You nodded your head like a child as you stood with Shoko.

"Satoru,” he called across the nearly empty park.

You peeked behind him to see Gojo whipping his phone out, handing it to the girl who had captured his attention for the day. You rolled your eyes and began limping back to the car. The pain of the scrape had eased, but you still wanted to clean it when you got home.

“Need help?” Shoko walked up behind you.

“No thanks,” you said softly, wanting to be alone for a bit.

She patted your back and gave you a soft smile before running ahead to jump onto Geto’s back.

"Asshole!” he yelled as he stumbled, trying to find balance.

You smiled at the two and continued your slow pace.

“Pretty girl, wait up." You turned around to see a smiling Gojo chasing you.

You silently cursed yourself at the feeling of your heart skipping a beat because of the nickname he always called you.

You rolled your eyes before turning around. You knew he’d catch up to you with his long legs.

“Hey, what happened? Why are you limping?” His voice was filled with worry.

You stopped in your tracks, feeling the rage suddenly boiling over inside of you.

“Oh wow, now you care." You practically yelled.

He flinched from the sudden outburst. He had never really heard or seen you so angry.

“You promised to teach me how to skate.” Your pointer finger stabbed him in the chest. “You promised to stick with me. You promised to catch me if I fell,” you continued.

His mouth hung open, too surprised to form words to speak.

“I was bleeding from my knee and you were too busy flirting to even notice.”

He stared silently, allowing you to continue.

“You didn’t pay attention to me, not once while we were here, and you now have the nerve to ask what happened?!” You scoffed, rolling your eyes, and began limping towards the car.

Gojo grabbed your hand, pulling you back to him.

"Wait, I’m sorry.” He gave you a soft pout.

You hated the way his wide eyes had such an effect on you. “I shouldn’t have abandoned you today. I’m a jerk, I’m an asshole, and whatever name you want to call me.” His fingers rubbed circles into your skin as he attempted to ease your anger.

“You are an asshole and a jerk. I’m glad you noticed.” You made an attempt to pull away, but he held your wrist tight.

“Let me make it up to you.”

“How are you going to make it up to me?”

“Come back to my place, and I’ll show you.” His arm wrapped around the small of your back, pulling you in close.

You were breathing in his familiar scent. Your heart was beating so hard in your chest that it was impossible for him not to hear.

“I don’t care about any of your sleazy tricks, Gojo.”

You pulled away.

“Gojo? What happened to Toru or Pretty Boy?” He was chasing after you pulling you back into him. You didn’t want to feed his ego, not when you were seething with anger.

“Listen, come over tonight, no sleazy tricks, no asshole or jerk Gojo, just me, you, and whatever you want to do. I care about you, and I’m so sorry I made you feel like I didn't. Let me make it up to you.”

He stared at you with a pleading look. His wide eyes held so much desperation as if his world would fall apart if you said no.

"Please,” he begged, waiting for your reply.

You rolled your eyes and let out a deep sigh.

“Fine Gojo. I’ll come over.”

You wanted to grab the words as soon as they left your mouth. You should’ve said no. You should’ve stood your ground. You should have made him feel the way he made you feel when he openly flirted in front of you. You wanted to scream because, for some reason, you could never pull away from him. It was as if he held a magnet that you couldn’t help but pull into.

You sat silently in the car, preparing yourself to sit angrily in Gojo’s home. Why even go at this point? Perhaps you knew you were never really angry. More so, you were jealous. Why couldn’t it be you that he wanted to be with all the time? Why couldn’t he whisper sweet nothings into your ear that made you giggle like a schoolgirl? Why couldn’t he just reciprocate your love? It wasn’t that he ‘couldn’t’ he just wouldn’t do it. Part of you knew that, but some part of you still wanted to try.

When Getou pulled up to Gojo’s house, you tried to ignore the disappointed headshake Shoko gave you. You wanted to ignore the insistent feeling of dread bubbling inside you, screaming to get back in the car. You had planned on standing your ground. Of course, you weren’t going to sleep with him. Last time was the last time, and that was final.

“Get comfy, let me go grab some new bandages for your knee.”

You sat on his couch, taking steady breaths. Every time you came here you felt as if it were the first time. Your palms were sweating profusely. Your heart felt like it was seconds away from jumping out of your chest.

Gojo came back with a first-aid kit. His touch was so soft. You couldn't even look at him when you had so many emotions bubbling inside you.

"Gojo,” your call of his name was followed by complete silence as he focused on rubbing ointment on your knee.

"Gojo,” you called out to him louder. You know he could hear you.

"Toru,” you groaned, annoyed with his silence.

“Yes pretty?” He looked up at you with a playful smile.

You give him a pout.

“I- I need to say something." Your face is filled with frustration. You had to get this off your chest.

“I’m all ears.” He finished bandaging your knee and placed a kiss on it to top it off. He sat crisscrossed in front of you, his hand gently rubbing up and down your calf while giving you all his attention.

"Um, well.” You didn't know how to start.

Your attention was all over the place. His hand was still massaging your calf. Your thoughts were tracing back to the events of the day.

“What do you want from me?" You looked down, frustration covering your face.

"How can I show you I love you and you finally understand?” You clenched your jaw while unconsciously caving into yourself.

"I will always love you how I do, but I need you to feel something more for me than just lust." You hadn’t realized the tears that were beginning to fall. Your emotions felt like they were overpowering you. You wanted to scream, Why won't he choose you? You felt so small like the room was slowly growing smaller. You wrapped your arms around yourself, suddenly feeling so vulnerable—too vulnerable.

“I wish you needed me. I want to be your number one,” you whimpered.

Gojo’s palm softly grabbed your face, wiping away your endless stream of tears.

"I—please let me make it up to you. I care about you so much, pretty,” he said, pulling you in for a kiss.

His lips felt like heaven. He was intoxicating. You breathed him in like a drug that you were unknowingly addicted to. His hands dragged hot trails on your skin as he deepened the kiss. It was filled with fire and passion you could've sworn he was telling you he loved you with his touch alone. You hated how you fell so easily for him. One touch alone, and he left you feeling weak in the knees. You wanted to pull away. When his hands dragged you to his room, you wanted to pull away because last time was the last time. When he dragged his lips down your naked body, apologizing with each kiss, you wanted to pull away. When his fingers peeled your panties down while his eyes focused on your face, watching your every reaction, you wanted to pull away. When his tongue licked between your folds, you knew you were far too deep to pull away.

“Spread your legs for me, baby, let me show you how much I care.” His voice was silky as his warm tongue pressed against your core. You arched your body into him, loving the way his tongue massaged your warmth. Your moans grew louder as his pace quickened. Gojo was eating you out as if he had something to prove. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling your body impossibly closer. His tongue lapped at your clit at an unrelenting pace. His groans vibrated against your core, leaving you a complete mess. Your hands gripped the sheet desperately, attempting to gather yourself. You were so close.

"Fuck, please- “ Your whimpers were cut off by another moan. Gojo was taking every part of you. The way he slurped your juices left you feeling embarrassed. How could he make you fall apart for him so easily each and every time? He pressed wet kisses to your thighs in between swallowing your essence messily. Your hands moved to his shoulder, clawing desperately. You were stuck between needing him and wanting nothing to do with him.

“Fuck, Toru, I hate you so much” you whined as you grew closer to your orgasm.

It was true. You hated him, every ounce of him. The way he made you feel, the way he could have you wrapped around his finger within seconds, the way he could have you trembling just from his tongue.

You felt like you had no control over your body. You were at his mercy, constantly giving yourself away to him.

"Wait, w-wait Toru” you whined 

He pulled away with a deep breath. His face was drenched with your juices.

“You did so well for me, pretty girl.”

He crawled up to be at eye level with you. His lips pressed against yours, and once again, you were trapped in his soft presence. His hand gripped your waist, holding you in place while he positioned himself at your entrance. You could feel the beating of his heart against your own. It was like a drum to a song you had memorized over and over before.

“You still mad at me?” His voice was lower than before.

Of course, you were. One little orgasm wouldn’t change how you felt. You nodded your head. He rolled his tip against your clit earning a moan. His cock dipped into you, stretching you out with each inch.

“How about now?”

You couldn’t focus on his question. Your mouth hung open as you tried to adjust to his size.

He sat up and pressed your legs to your chest.

“That's okay, baby. Just lay back and let me make you feel good.” His voice was sultry.

Gojo rocked his cock in and out of you, smiling at the way you moaned. His eyes stared down at where the two of you met, captivated by the way you sucked him in.

“That’s it, pretty girl. Take this cock. So good for me.” His hands pushed down onto your thighs, folding you so he could have easier access.

The feeling of his cock gliding against your walls left you speechless. Your eyes were rolling back with each thrust. You felt butterflies in your stomach as he whispered how you were his good girl.

His.

Something about that word made you melt.

“Tell me who’s pussy this is."

"Yours,” you moaned, as if it were engraved in you to acknowledge yourself as his.

“It’s your Toru, always,” you whimpered.

You fell for him all over again.

This is the last time. You knew it was a lie.

His hips moved in circular motions as he pushed himself into you.

“You like that, huh?” He knew exactly how to make you feel good. He knew your body better than you.

“You like it when I fuck my pussy, don’t you?” he grunted. "Yeah, you do. Take this cock, baby, it’s all yours.”

Your heart fluttered. You felt a sense of possession as the words spilled past his lips.

"Mine,” you whispered. The words were probably hard for Gojo to hear over his grunts as he plunged his cock into you. “All mine,” you whimpered.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum,” he groaned. “You want my cum, baby? Want me to fill my pretty pussy to the brim?” He said, looking down at your shaking figure.

You were far too gone, still reeling from the possessive words being shared between the two of you.

Gojo thrusted into you sloppily as he neared his orgasm. His thumb circled your clit urging you to another orgasm.

“Make a mess for me, let me see how sloppy my pussy gets.”

You moaned loudly, shaking and shivering, as you were overcome by your orgasm. Your eyes squeezed shut as your juices sprayed against Gojo’s abs while he continued thrusting into you.

"Oh, Fuck Toru,” you whimpered.

Your watery eyes opened to see Gojo’s lust-filled gaze. His lip was pulled between his teeth as he fucked roughly into you, chasing after his orgasm.

“Cum inside of me, Toru. I need it, please." Your pleads were all Gojo needed before spurting his seed into you, whimpering about how good you were for him.

He leaned down into the crook of your neck as his thrust came to a halt. Your arms wrapped around him, holding him tight. His body felt so warm on top of you. Your mind went from a fucked out blur to a mess of thoughts. Your love-struck eyes gazed down at his still form with realization. You were more than just a body he could fuck; at least that’s what you were constantly telling yourself. It was so easy to say these things, but once his lips were on yours and his hands pulling you free from your clothes, you couldn’t find it in yourself to put these words into action.

Gojo pulled out of you to lay beside you. He pulled you so you were resting on his chest. You lay silently, staring into the darkness of the room.

You knew this had to be the last time. You knew you had to let go, and you knew you had to forgive yourself for taking so long to let go. You knew it was a bad religion to be in love with the brightest shade of blue. When he pulled out his phone to text the pretty girl from the skate park, asking to hang out with a winky face, you knew he’d never crave your love the way you did.

#gojou satoru x reader #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo smut #jjk gojo #jujutsu gojo #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo angst

[itsjusthockey]

A Nonsense Christmas - Jack Hughes

(Fruitcake EP Series)

Finally.

Enjoy

Comment and interact, love u guys that do. Makes my night

w.c: 2,083 (credit to gif maker) (don’t steal my work)

“Isn’t this illegal?” You ask, following Jack down through the tunnel of the very dark and very closed Prudential Center. “Or at least frowned upon?”

He snorts in front of you and turns to meet your eyes, a cocky smirk playing on his lips as he leans toward you, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly.

“Being me has its privileges, baby.”

He throws you a wink, and you roll your eyes as far back as you can as you continue to follow him down toward the devil's locker room. You’ve been to the Devil's barn many times before, but never when it was this late and very obviously closed. This little rendezvous wasn’t your plan. Things that are this extravagant usually aren’t.

You are currently in Jersey, but only for a few days. The hockey world was about to go on break, and Jack had begged you to fly in before you both headed to Michigan for the holidays. You were a bit hesitant, but after a few bribes from your boyfriend, you ended up in Jersey.

Tonight is your first night, and all you want after a long week of finals and a tiring flight is to land face-first in Jack's bed and stay there—Jack has other plans. As soon as you land and drop your stuff in the apartment, he is quick to shoo you out the door again, explaining he has a surprise date night planned after your miserable finals, and you are going to love what he has planned.

At the moment, the only feeling that is plaguing your mind is nervousness. Jack’s too cocky, and he has a slight bounce in his step which usually means he’s up to no good.

You follow behind him diligently, and soon enough, you both enter the locker room. The space is as lovely as you remember it, and you follow Jack over to his stall, which is conveniently next to his baby brothers. You watch with slightly narrowed eyes as he grabs various items from his locker and hands them to you.

It isn’t until he opens his little cubby that everything falls into place. There inside is a brand new box, and when he opens it in front of you, his stupid little smirk grows even wider.

“You like?” He proudly pulls the new Bauer skates from the box, handing one over to you.

You take in the brand new pair of skates. They’re beautiful, custom, and just your size.

“You, sir, are evil.” You give him a false mean glare, but you’re slightly being honest with your statement. “You really bought me skates and trapped me here to force me to ice skate?”

He shrugs his shoulders again, smiling. “Yes, I did.”

You roll your eyes at the boy in front of you. You’ve been together for a while, a long time, and while you’re dating one of the best hockey players in the league, you can’t ice skate for shit. It’s not for a lack of trying; you really have given it your all, but you’ve just had terrible teachers. Jack has tried to teach you many times. Many, many times, to no avail.

The first time, you almost ended up with a trip to the emergency room. The second time you landed so hard on your back, you thought you were paralyzed. The third time, you almost got a concussion. So it’s simple to say you’ve tried your best, but you’ve decided to leave ice skating to the professionals.

“Come on, baby, tonight’s the night, I feel it.”

You follow him out of the locker room toward the ice. You pause when you get there, suddenly feeling a sense of nostalgia. The lights are on in the center ice, and you have to admit it looks serene and slightly beautiful in the late evening. You’ve only ever been here when it is bustling with fans, and you feel a little special getting to see it this way.

“Come on, stop stalling.” Jack teases, patting the bench for you to sit.

You follow him and seat yourself in front of him. He’s smiling big, and he looks ridiculously happy. He’s always like this when he’s here; he has a certain energy when he’s close to a rink. You’d never tell him this, but you love it when he tries to teach you, even if you are wildly nervous.

Jack kneels down, immediately getting to work. You wince slightly as he pulls the skatelaces impossibly tighter around your foot. He quickly loops them around and tucks them into the sides, ensuring there is no possibility of you tripping, which you may or may not have done before.

“There, how’s that?” Jack gently pats your ankle as he looks up at you, still kneeling on the floor.

You shake your feet around, and the brand-new Bauer skates don’t budge a bit; it’s really tight and slightly cutting off blood flow, but you would rather have that than a broken ankle.

“Feels good.”

He smiles again, standing up and grabbing your face. He pulls you in for a quick kiss, then sits next to you, pulling on his own skates. You watch as he tightens them in record speed, and soon enough, he’s launching himself across the boards.

You glare at him as he races around the ice. He skates forward, backward, and even does a little spin. He’s laughing as you’re watching him move around fluidly, and once he’s done, he skates back to you, leaning over the boards where you’re standing, safely behind the danger.

“Stop showing off J, you’re not cute.”

He barks out a laugh at your bitterness, but he smiles sweetly and extends a hand for you to grab. You hesitate, watching his open palm for a minute before you finally pluck up enough courage and swing yourself onto the ice.

As soon as your foot makes contact with the ice, you fall a bit forward, and Jack steadies your waist. You give him another glare when you catch his amused stare. He’s enjoying this way too much.

“Okay, baby, you ready for the basics?”

You nod and watch as your boyfriend goes into full teacher mode. He tells you how to go, how to change directions, and you’re off. You feel pretty good. You haven’t been injured yet, but you seem to be skating better than you ever have. Maybe it’s the fact that you’re on professional ice; maybe their talent is seeping in.

You’re moving pretty fast, actually very fast, and Jack has let go of your hands, letting you glide on your own. It isn’t until you’re getting a little too close that you realize he forgot to reach you, the most essential part of ice skating.

“Wait,” you screech a bit. “How the fuck do I stop!”

Before you can do anything, you smack into the boards and fall on your ass. You hit the ice pretty hard as you go down, and as soon as you fall, you just lay there accepting defeat.

You hear Jack's loud and annoying laughter before he gets to you. He skates up so close, and he hovers above your body, looking incredibly pleased with himself.

“You were doing so good. What happened?”

You huff in annoyance, and he holds out his hands to help you up. Once you’re back on your feet, you throw him another glare.

“I’m not having fun.”

He smiles and skates in a bit close, moving to kiss your pout away. He does, and when he pulls his face back, he gently moves a piece of stray hair out of your face.

“You’re doing good. It just takes practice.”

You nod, and a newfound sense of determination fills you. This is just ice skating, literally Jack's job, and you will fucking master it if it kills you. More so, you know for a fact that there is a family skate coming soon, and you want to impress people. You know you have it in you, so you grit your teeth, use Jack to push you, and you’re off again.

An hour later, you’re quite impressed with yourself. You’ve managed to skate around and haven’t fallen once. You’re moving good, and you’re finally able to keep up with Jack to a certain extent.

“You better watch out J, I think the league might replace you with me.”

You wink at him as he watches you proudly, and you can tell this means a lot to him, so even if it means you’ll fall a few times, you’ll do this every day.

“You’re a natural.” He circles you, and you try your best not to knock into him. “You just needed to get out of your head.”

You nod, smilingly, and you both skate for a little longer. Eventually, you grow a bit tired. It’s been a long day, and you find yourself skating toward the devil's bench in search of some much-needed water.

Jack reads your mind and beats you to the bench, swinging himself over and grabbing the water bottle. He grins a little bit and melts your heart. He shakes the water bottle and holds it high. You oblige and tilt your head back as he squirts the water into your mouth. He misses a bit, causing the water to dribble down your chin. You sputter a bit and wipe at your face, playfully glaring at him.

“Oops, my bad," Jack says, chuckling as he wipes the excess water off your cheek with his hand. "Looks like I need to work on my aim."

You shake your head, feigning annoyance, but you can’t help but find his boyish antics endearing.

“You're lucky you're cute," you tease, unable to hold back your laughter.

Jake grins impossibly wider, his eyes twinkling a bit with mischief. "Well, I guess I'll have to make it up to you then."

He reaches out and helps pull you safely off the ice. He makes quick work and cups your face with cold hands, leaning down to kiss you softly.

The familiar tingle of excitement rushes through you as your lips meet, and you melt into his embrace, warming yourself up. His kiss is passionate but sweet and tender; it sends shivers down your spine. The light sounds of the empty area fade, and you find yourself getting lost with him.

After what feels like an eternity, you pull apart, breathless but grinning from ear to ear. Jack's blue eyes sparkled as he looks at you with all the affection in the world.

“Better?" he asks with a smirk, his hand still resting on your cheek.

You nod, your heart swelling with happiness. "Much better," you whisper, unable to hide your adoration for this hockey-playing heartthrob in front of you.

You sigh wistfully and see the twitch of a smile tug at his lips as you cup his jaw and tug him down to meet you in another gentle, lingering kiss. The warmth of his touch sends a rush of emotions through you, and you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

“Are you hungry?” Jack whispers in your hair.

You nod and loop your arms through his bent elbows, crossing it over his back. You press a soft kiss to his jaw, and he pulls you back toward the locker room. It doesn’t take long for you both to pack up, and you’re very pleased with the successful date night. It isn’t often you get to do things like this, and every time you do, you’re reminded how special your relationship is.

Ten minutes later, you’re packed into the Range Rover, and Jack is speeding toward his favorite late-night burger place. When you pull in, you see the hanging Christmas lights, and you’re reminded of the season. It’s Christmas, and you get to spend time with him, lots of time.

He leads you in hand and hand, and you can’t help but feel utter joy as you eat and spend the rest of the night together. The holdings season is shaping up to be the best yet, and you’re unbelievably excited to spend it by his side.

#fruitcakeseries #hockey #hockey boys #imagine #nhl imagine #hockey fic #hockey imagine #hockey x reader #nhl hockey #nhl x reader #jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagine #nhl blurb #nhl24 #nhl fic #nhl players #nhl #nhl fanfiction #nhledit #nj devils #new jersey #devils hockey

[leonw4nter]

hii could you do some re2r leon hcs abt him dating a figure skater? love your fics smm <33

RE2R!Leon Headcanons on dating a figure skater!

RE2R!Leon x GN!FigureSkater!Reader (Also my first request ever!! Thanks anon &lt;33)

RE2R!Leon who would drive you to and from practice everyday if he was free. He also offered to massage your sore arms and legs at the end of a strenuous practice, making sure you also ate well in order to restore your energy.

RE2R!Leon who is the resident figure skating expert in the Raccoon City precinct, knowledgeable on the jumps, scoring systems, the best brands of figure skating outfits to buy from, etc. He knows all these because you explain the mechanics of your sport to him any chance you get– laying in bed at night, mid-chew of your food, when he’s driving and you suddenly remembered that you haven’t said anything in a long time today.

RE2R!Leon who would make sure to attend all of your performances, near or far. He’s willing to call in sick just to watch your performance, if the station isn’t super busy. If the station really needs him, he’ll try to catch your performance on the box TV in the break room. 

RE2R!Leon who saved up before spending the first six months of his salary to get you new skates since your old ones were barely hanging on for dear life yet you insisted they still worked just fine. The skating apparel store personnel also gave him care instructions, him taking out a notepad and jotting down care instructions. Like the thoughtful boyfriend he is, he also picked up some grease for the blades and leather conditioner.

RE2R!Leon who would be the loudest person in the whole arena, the staffers and the people reminding him many times to keep the hollering down and he apologizes, even if he’s bound to do it again.

RE2R!Leon who always comes running to you with flowers in one hand, arms wide open to engulf you in a warm hug. He’s practically sobbing because he’s so damn proud of you, his camcorder full of shaky footage of you skating and him yelling. He’s got another camera in the pocket of his jacket, this time full of photos of you (some of the pictures blurry).

RE2R!Leon who nearly masters the art of styling your hair; name it and he’ll do it near perfectly (there’s always room for improvement and new ways to style your hair). Same goes for your makeup; he used to confuse concealer and foundation and now he knows which is which. He remembers the amount you use on your face and what brushes or sponges are used for each product. Sometimes, he even offers to get your brushes and sponges cleaned.

RE2R!Leon who flails his arms and tries not to fall on his ass on the cold ice when you took him out for an ice skating date. You suggested that he use the walkers that the establishment offered for newbies but he turned it down, saying he can just hold on to the side or hold on to you. After you taught, explained, and demonstrated all the moves you do for skating, he’s highly impressed and in awe especially now that he’s seeing the mechanisms up close.

RE2R!Leon who brags about his award-winning partner to the other officers in the station, showing the multitude of pictures he has of your awards. He might even show videos of your routines too, the officers complaining of slight motion sickness or not understanding anything because the footage is so shaky.

RE2R!Leon who will absolutely scream “that’s my girl/boyfriend right there!” or “see that person over there? The one in maroon! I’m their boyfriend!” to no one in particular while the people around him could care less.

RE2R!Leon who hypes you up before it’s time for him to go to the stands and for you to go in the holding area for the contestants, giving you kisses and playing upbeat music on the drive to the venue. He’s giving you so much hugs and words of encouragement, you feel your confidence spike.

RE2R!Leon who ran from the stands and tackled you, crying, when you were hailed as one of the winners. You were both in tears, laughing and smiling broadly but you swear that he cried harder than you did.

RE2R!Leon who will still come running to you with arms wide open to engulf you in a bone-crushing hug, flowers in one hand even if you didn’t place on the podium. At the end of the day, you did your best and he’s the proudest boyfriend ever. In his eyes, you’re the best skater there is and will still celebrate you no matter what.

RE2R!Leon who will listen to the song you finally found for your routine, his lovely partner seeking double approval for their music choice. That song would end up stuck in his mind for a week, even if it’s not his usual taste. While sitting in his patrol car or filing reports back, he’d randomly start humming “Hopelessly Devoted to You” or “Take My Breath Away” and giggle to himself because he remembers seeing you glide on the ice so gracefully. 

RE2R!Leon who doesn’t mind being the guy that people ask to hold their cameras so they can take a picture with you. He’s just some dude and you’re there, the topic of a nine year-old’s female sports icon essay for a subject at school.

RE2R!Leon who felt guilty when you had to pull out of a competition that takes place a state away from where Raccoon City is, flight tickets and hotel accommodation fees above what you two normally earn. He didn’t like seeing you dejected, a little farther from reaching the Olympic dream you want to achieve and sulking in your room. He promised to work harder and saved more money so he’d be able to support you financially in your dreams.

RE2R!Leon who will blast a Spice Girls or Madonna song and dance to it, making himself look stupid in front of you just to make you smile for even a little bit. Would do anything to help you get over a bad day. He’d suggest you doing his makeup to test out how a makeup look you’ve been eyeing might look; the powder is making his nose slightly itchy but he tries not to flinch so he won’t smudge the eyeliner you’re doing on him while you’re sitting on his lap, his hands resting on your waist or the small of your back.

RE2R!Leon who is your number one fan! Aside from whatever encouragement he’s showering you when you’re competing, he’s truly doing everything and more just so he can help you reach your dreams. On days that are either boring, best, or the worst, he will be there for you no matter what. He truly believes that you’re perfectly capable of being on your own but he’s thankful that you’re letting him into your life. He’s not the richest man in the world nor does he have a fat bank account but he’s doing everything in order to be able to provide for you, a small smidge of what he is willing to do for you.

NOTE - I finally finished 1/3 requests in my inbox, YEAHHH!!! I started on this one yesterday before I fell asleep, finished the rest of it while at school, and finished making the post just now :)) I've been gone for a while bc school and I'll probably be gone again for quite some time bc work is starting to pour in some more. I got a perfect score on a math drill today so I'm pretty happy about that, my (richer) classmates also organized a prom kinda thing bc we didn't get to have prom so I'm excited about that one :)) Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this headcanon and again, big BIG thank you to anon for sending this request in!!!! I hope I managed to live up to your expectations :))) I <33333 UUUUU!!!!!!!

The hanging star divider is made by @benkeibear , the images are colored by me (sourced from Pinterest).

#resident evil #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy fluff #leon s kennedy #fluff #leon scott kennedy #leon s kennedy fluff #biohazard #resident evil 2 #resident evil 2 remake #resident evil headcanons #leon kennedy headcanons

[penguinsnoot]

20 Anime You Should Watch

I’ve been getting into anime again recently, and thought I’d share some that I like! These are in no particular order. I gave very short, simplistic descriptions of each show, but I recommend looking them up for full summaries to get a better idea of what they’re about.

1) Cells at Work! (2 seasons, 22 episodes) [Comedy]

Anthropomorphic cells living in a human’s body. Focuses on a red blood cell that frequently encounters a white blood cell during dangerous bodily infestations and illnesses.

2) Kaichou wa Maid-sama! (1 season, 26 episodes) [Comedy, Romance]

Focuses on the female school president of a previously all-male school who directs and rules over them harshly. She secretly works at a maid café, which is discovered by a popular male classmate of hers. 

3) Ouran High School Host Club (1 season, 26 episodes) [Comedy, Romance]

Student Haruhi Fujioka stumbles upon a host club in the prestigious Ouran Academy. After accidentally breaking an expensive vase, she must work for the club to pay off her debt.

4) Lost Song (1 season, 12 episodes) [Music, Fantasy]

Rin is a girl from a small village who dreams of singing in the capital city. Her singing has the power to heal any wound. Rin and her brother, Al, journey to the capital when their home is attacked by soldiers hoping to capture Rin. Finis, who also has a magical voice, performs for the royal palace. She falls in love with a soldier named Henry and must hide their relationship from the prince. She and Rin have intersecting destinies and both struggle with the terrible circumstances that life throws at them. 

5) Clannad (2 seasons, 47 episodes) [Drama, Romance, Supernatural]

Delinquent Tomoya meets ill Nagisa and they become friends. Along with four other girls, Tomoya decides to help Nagisa revive the school’s drama club. He finds himself helping each girl with their respective problems and learns that life may not be as dull as he once thought. 

6) Fruits Basket (3 seasons, 64 episodes) [Drama, Romance, Supernatural]

Homeless Tohru Honda moves in with members of the mysterious Soma family. When she accidentally learns of the family’s curse of them turning into animals when embraced by a member of the opposite sex, she resolves to help them figure out how to lift the curse. 

7) Kamisama Hajimemashita (2 seasons, 25 episodes) [Comedy, Fantasy, Romance]

Offered a home by a man being attacked by a dog, Nanami is surprised to find a seemingly abandoned shrine. When she tried to leave, she is confronted by the spirits of the shrine. Tomoe, the fox spirit, leaves angrily when he realizes it is not the land god, Mikage, who has entered their home and that he instead sent a human girl as replacement. Refusing to remain homeless, Nanami decided to serve the shrine and ends up forming a sealed contract with Tomoe when she kisses him. 

8) Princess Jellyfish (1 season, 11 episodes) [Comedy, Slice-of-life]

Tsukimi is an introvert with a love for jellyfish living with other socially isolated women in Tokyo. One day, she meets someone beautiful who looks like a princess and helps her save a jellyfish from a local pet store. The beautiful princess is revealed to actually be a crossdressing man named Kuranosuke. Despite their aversion to men and socializing in general, Kuranosuke resolves to help the women become more confident in themselves. 

9) Soul Eater (1 season, 51 episodes) [Action, Comedy, Fantasy] 

Follows three sets of meisters and their weapons as they fight demons and witches to obtain the status of Death Scythes. They attend a school founded by Lord Death and learn the best ways to recognize and defeat these evil entities. 

10) Yuri on Ice (1 season, 12 episodes) [Sports, Romance]

Figure skater Yuri meets champion skater Victor, who claims he is going to be Yuri’s new mentor. Yuri accepts and goes on a difficult journey of training in the world of competitive ice skating. 

11) BNA: Brand New Animal (1 season, 12 episodes) [Action, Fantasy, Comedy]

Michiru, after becoming a newly formed beastman, travels to Anima City, a safe haven for people like her. After witnessing an explosion during a celebration, she is confronted by detective Shirou Ogami. They team up to pursue the criminals involved with the explosion and discover why Michiru has suddenly started to turn into a Tanuki after being human all her life. 

12) Japan Sinks: 2020 (1 season, 10 episodes) [Drama, Sci-fi] 

Ayumu and family’s life is turned upside down when an earthquake strikes and obliterates Japan’s structural integrity. The Mutou family must find a way to survive and get out of the country before the entirety of Japan sinks into the ocean. 

13) Toradora (1 season, 25 episodes) [Drama, Romance]

Gentle yet fierce-looking Ryuji forms an unlikely friendship with sharp-tongued and violent Taiga. They try to help one another confess to their crushes while growing closer along the way.

14) A3! (2 seasons, 24 episodes) [Drama, Slice-of-life, Comedy]

Izumi confronts the loan sharks who are after money from her father’s run-down theater. She plans to bring the theater back into the spotlight and pay of the debt with the help from an all-male acting troupe.

15) Monthly Girls’ Nozaki-kun (1 season, 12 episodes) [Comedy, Romance]

Chiyo has a crush on her schoolmate, Nozaki, and confesses to him, but he mistakes her as a fan of his manga and gives her an autograph. Saying she wants to be with him, Nozaki invites her to help him with his drawings. Chiyo hopes that by helping Nozaki, he will eventually take notice of her romantic feelings for him.

16) Wotakoi: Love is Hard for Otaku (1 season, 11 episodes) [Romance, Comedy]

Narumi and Hirotaka knew each other when they were younger and end up working in the same office. They decide to start dating, but find that their respective interests make it difficult to create romantic situations. 

17) K-On! (2 seasons, 39 episodes, 1 film) [Comedy, Slice-of-life]

Five high school students become friends and bandmates as they form the next generation of their school’s Light Music Club.

18) Violet Evergarden (1 season, 13 episodes, 2 films) [Fantasy, Drama]

Amidst working for a ghostwriting agency, past soldier Violet Evergarden learns to reconnect with her feelings while trying to understand the final words her commander left her with.

19) Given (1 season, 11 episodes, 1 film) [Drama, Romance]

Prepared to give up music for good, Ritsuka changes his mind after meeting Mafuyu. He gives Mafuyu guitar lessons in the hopes of making the other boy the lead singer for his band. 

20) Rascal Does Not Dream of Bunny Girl Senpai (1 season, 13 episodes, 1 film) [Drama, Romance, Supernatural]

Sakuta suffers from puberty-syndrome and sees a bunny girl that is invisible to others. When he meets the girl in real life, he realizes she’s going through her own problems and becomes attached to the bunny girl. 

#anime #anime rec list #anime rec #anime recommendation #anime tv show #anime list #cells at work #maid sama #ouran high school host club #ouran koukou host club #lost song #clannad #fruits basket #kamisama hajimemashita #kamisama kiss #princess jellyfish #soul eater #yuri on ice #bna #bna: brand new animal #japan sinks 2020 #toradora #A3! #A3 #monthly girls' nozaki kun #wotakoi #wotaku ni koi wa muzukashii #k-on #violet evergarden #given

[lovebeatriceplz]

My Larry Johnson headcanons 👻🎸

General and dating

- His room is a mess 24/7 but he's not a slob. It isn't like a health hazard but it's just never neat, something is always out of place.

- A huge sleepyhead, most of your dates are smoking sessions and taking really long naps together.

- He might appear scrawny to some but he can fight. He'd never start one, but blv he's going to defend himself or someone else. Not ruthless or brutal but he's got a nasty fist (he'll bite their ankles).

- Loves watching you get ready. Whether it's doing your make-up or your hair, or styling your clothes, he wants to watch.

- Once someone confused his eyebags with a smoky eyeliner look and asked him what brand. Now he watches tutorials on YouTube with Sal.

- Is a metalhead but is open and listens to all kinds of music, especially the ones that you recommend.

- He likes to experiment with kissing. Sometimes he kisses you like a royal and then he's inhaling your face😭.

- Can never go wrong with neck kisses though so he just goes for that most of the time. He also bites, but not like love bites more like a little Chihuahua, i digress.

- Has an old, beaten down pair of converse that he just refuses to toss out.

- Tells you everything, especially things about his dad. Sits up at night and talks to his father about you. When he can't do that, he'll talk about you with anyone that comes his way.

- Terrible at skating, popped his ass a couple of times.

- Is low-key down bad for you. Don't worry he's not a pervert, but he'll take any opportunity to get inside your pants.

- He's not a jealous person, like ever, for no circumstance.

- Has a nice singing voice but he prefers to play instruments instead, says he can feel the shit outta it more.

- Takes pictures of cats he see together and sends them to you, captioning it "us".

-Also takes pictures of you, you are 98% of his camera roll. He does it secretly as well, you could ask him "wait- when tf did you take this!?" And he'd just be like "🧍", i digress😭. Has a bunch of forehead pics.

- Supportive in anything that you do, not just you like anyone, his friends, his mom, anyone.

- Has no self - preservation and might self harm without realizing it's self harm. You have to stop him sometimes and help him to acknowledge his limits.

- Has really good hair genes. It grows back very fast, so when he impulsively cuts it (which happens often) it's back to normal in a good amount of weeks.

- First time he had s3x with you was... shocking?. Bro was hungry, not aggressive, just felt a little desperate. He didn't know he was touch starved until he met you.

- Thinks your drop dead gorgeous. Like he's mesmerized, and loves to just stare at you with those lazy eyes like your the best thing to ever happen to him.

#yeah so I'm kinda in love with him #like come ere my lil stinky opposum🤭 #anyways #larry johnson #larry johnson sally face #larry johnson sf #larry johnson x reader #larry johnson x you #larry Johnson hcs #larry Johnson fic #sally face #sf #sally face x reader #sally face x you #sally face x y/n #sal fisher #ashley sally face #travis phelps #headcanon #fanfiction

[sericasong]

Nestling・✦ drabble

noun - a young bird not yet old enough to leave the nest.・✦

Dad Keigo. Dad Keigo. Dad Keigo dad Keigo dad Keigo. This is mostly just rambling after @takami-takami's incredible work reminded me of this idea as a whole.

Keigo is a father.

It repeats in his mind every second of the day.

Keigo is a father.

No, he's never raised a child, and it's such a terrifying thought that he might not do well, but god dammit, Keigo knows how to love someone with every atom in his body. So that's just what he does.

It's handy, he thinks to himself, that he has all the budget of the country's number two hero at his disposal. It means he can spoil his little ones so much that he could take a sponsorship from the dictionary just to get his picture by the word indulgent.

You thought Keigo adored buying you anything you love before?

Well, you're right. But you're still going to have to adjust your standards of lavish, because he refuses to have anything but the best for his children. Not in fancy name brands or high prices, no- it's all the things they enjoy, all soft blankets and fluffed pillows and favorites favorites favorites in every category.

He tries not to overdo it, he really does. In fairness, he's not the kind of parent to let their kid skate by without growing as a person- he doesn't want them to be coddled like he often gets, and he wants them to learn and develop properly.

Can you really blame him for giving in a little more often than he probably should, though?

(You can, but he's so soft and so happy when he gets to see them smile. It makes it a lot harder to be mad.)

It suits him, fatherhood. The training that raised him, the cameras that chase him, the Commission that hones him like a knife, oh, they're nothing in the glow his family gives. He's dreamed of shelter like this for years and years and finally.

Not the glare of steel nor the polish of stardom are brighter than Keigo in this sanctuary, this gentle home he's made with you. A simple thing and a safe thing and he's so proud to say it's his.

And though his past may follow him in shrouds of somber shade, he much prefers the teeny shadows that patter after him in tiny shoes.

Oh, his little nestlings.

#mha hawks #mha takami keigo #mha keigo takami #takami keigo #keigo takami #hawks x reader #takami keigo x reader #keigo takami x reader #serica rune #fluff ✦

[jishyucks]

Love On Ice! — psh

‣ pairing: park sunghoon x reader

‣ genre: fluff, friends-to-lovers

‣ wc: 2.7k

‣ summary: After weeks of stalling, you finally let Sunghoon take you skating—and with how close you two are, you hope he mistakes the beating of your heart for the beat of the music.

‣ warnings: reader kinda sucks at skating and it’s embarrassing considering they have a crush on Hoon, more focused on the reader’s thoughts and feelings so we’re oblivious to Sunghoon’s thoughts and feelings

‣ an: honestly had no idea where i was going with this but i think it's pretty cute,, i half-assedly proofread this but I think it's okay! please enjoy!!

Series Masterlist

Fuck, you really don’t want to do this.

Sunghoon leads you into the small arena, an obvious pep in his step. 

Between the both of you, he seemed to be the only excited one—understandable, considering ice skating was his forte, his second home, and his first love. There were many reasons Sunghoon had to anticipate this; just as many as you had to not. 

For several weeks, Sunghoon had been pushing for you to go skating with him because he went swimming once in your favour (as much as he was opposed to it), so he figured it would only be fair for you to go ice skating. 

“At least you won’t be at risk of drowning,” Sunghoon had said, “I just inhaled a gallon of pool water, it can’t be this bad.”

And at that point in time, you agreed, simply because you did see it as a fair deal. 

But as time passed, you realized that you really didn’t want to humiliate yourself in front of Sunghoon, not when you had the fattest crush on the boy. It would be embarrassing to imagine yourself slipping and sliding on the ice like a baby taking its first steps. That would keep you up at night. 

You even used your athlete card to stall, telling your best friend that you didn’t want to hurt yourself in the middle of your extensive training. And, sure, Sunghoon understood completely—he was an athlete after all—though he started getting a sense that you were stalling for no real reason. 

What finally pushed you to go skating was the fact that Sunghoon took it upon himself to buy you brand-new skates, even asking his little sister to break them in for you. That way, even if you refused them, there was no way he could return them. 

“Are you sure we’re even allowed to be in here?” It was late in the evening and long after closing. The ice looked like it was just gone over by the zamboni and you’d feel bad if you and Sunghoon were to ruin it again for the night. 

He’s still leading you around the rink and toward the waiting area for the athletes. Once you both reach it, he plops his gym bag down on one of the benches and gestures for you to follow. 

“I spoke to coach and he allowed me to,” he says, “So we have it all to ourselves.” 

Despite how confidently Sunghoon replied, he was lying through his teeth. He did ask his coach if he could use the rink after hours, but his coach didn’t exactly hear him. So really, you and Sunghoon weren’t allowed to be there, but what was the worst they could do? Kick him off the team? 

Sunghoon sits down and pulls out his skates and you follow. You watch and mirror everything he’s doing. He slips his sneakers off before he loosens the laces of his skates, then beginning with his right foot, he slides the skate on. 

Sunghoon’s fingers begin to pull at the laces, starting from the front of the shoe. You watch as he tightens them, looping the white string around his fingers and then pulling outwards. He works his way up, finishing it with a simple double knot before he pulls his training pants over top of his skate. 

What the fuck? 

You’re left wondering how the hell Sunghoon had done that so quickly, but then you recall that he’s probably been doing that for years. You take in a deep breath before bending over to try and do what he’s just done, fingers failing to find enough strength to tighten the skate as much as you wanted it to. 

You let out a huff before you try pulling on the laces again, only to be met with the same results. 

“Here, let me help.” 

Unbeknownst to you, Sunghoon had been watching you attempt and fail, secretly finding your effort cute before he did offer assistance.

Sunghoon kneels down in front of you, taking the laces between his fingers before he starts lacing them up. “Just let me know if they’re too tight,” he says, working his way up the skate, “They need to be snug.” 

You nod even though you know Sunghoon can’t see you, keeping your legs steady. Sunghoon finishes before you know it, patting each of your feet before pushing himself up from the ground, “Those feel good?” 

“Yeah, thanks,” you say. The skates feel foreign on your feet, but they’re comfortable—like two tight hugs around your ankles—now it was all about how you would be managing to balance when you stood up. 

With one shaky breath, you scoot forward on the bench and lift yourself off. Surprisingly, it wasn’t that difficult to stand on skates. Sure, you needed to be a bit more conscious of your balance, but it wasn’t as tough as you thought it would be. Sunghoon leads you to one of the openings, yanking the door open. He steps out onto the ice in excitement, doing a quick lap in the time that it took you to waddle over to the gate. When he notices that you’re waiting at the entrance, he glides over to you with his arms out. “Let’s go. You ready?” 

Blinking at his outstretched arms, you shake your head, “Huh? I-I thought you were gonna give me those granny walkers.” 

Honestly, you should be ecstatic that Sunghoon was willingly offering you his hands, but realistically, you knew you’d melt right then and there by the contact. Besides, the granny walkers were practically the equivalent of a life jacket at the pool. It was just fair for you to ask for one of those because you provided him one. 

“That’s five minutes to the storage room and back,” he whines, urging for you to take his hands, “So it’s either you hold my hands or you raw dog it.” 

“I’ll just… uh–raw dog it.” You snort at Sunghoon’s choice of words and gesture for him to back up so that you can step onto the ice. You watch where your feet land, helmet on your head weighing it down slightly because it’s still a bit loose on your head.

“Okay~ Whatever you say~” Sunghoon sings. The man starts to skate around the rink, showing off with simple twirls and one-footed glides. He watches you from the corners of his eyes, your fingers gripping onto the ice rink’s boards. 

You’re tottering sideways along the perimeter, scraping some of the ice as you go. The combination of the fresh ice and sharp skating blades wasn’t ideal for you, feeling yourself slide without you trying. 

It takes you a moment to realize just how tense your leg muscles were, afraid that if you were to relax, you’d be on the floor wiped out. 

“Fuck,” you mutter. You’re pushing your weight against the boards, breath growing shaky every time you try to let go. You don’t quite trust yourself to hold yourself up. It feels like the second you let go of the edge, you’re going to lose your balance. 

Oh, fuck it. 

“Hoon?” You call out. You don’t exactly see where he is on the ice because your back is turned to the rink, “Hoon.”

You hear the sharp scrape of ice before your best friend appears next to you, brows raised with a small, patient smile on his lips, “Yes~”

Without saying another word, you hold one of your hands out for him to take. You refuse to look at him, knowing that he’d end up teasing the hell out of you and giving up so easily. 

Sunghoon immediately understands your request. He gently takes your fingertips in one hand, extending his other hand in anticipation of your second arm joining in the hold. With a gentle pull, he leads you toward the center of the ice, making sure you're keeping your balance. 

You were so tense that the thought of melting in Sunghoon’s arms had completely slipped your mind. It felt as though your knees were going to buckle, but you tried to keep your knees bent—something that you had picked up from some tiktok you saw a while ago on ice skating.

“Okay, I’m going to let go now,” Sunghoon warns, dropping one of your hands. The warmth of his hand is replaced with the cool air of the building. 

“Wait! Not yet!” Your empty arm sticks out, trying to grab hold of air. Despite your balance, there was that lingering thought at the back of your mind telling you that you’d fall on your ass if Sunghoon let go. 

Sunghoon is quick to take your hand in his, and it immediately calms you down. “I’m not gonna let you fall.” 

And although the comment makes your heart start running a marathon, you glare up at him, “You better not.” 

He laughs and distances himself away from you, remaining tethered to you with your joined hands, “Okay, to move forward, I need you to start marching on the spot like this.” Sunghoon demonstrates what he wants you to do and you easily mirror it. 

The skates beneath your feet bring you forward and you feel yourself relax in the slightest. 

“You’re doing it!” Sunghoon cheers, “Okay, to stop, just slowly point your toes inwards like this while bending your knees.” Sunghoon tries his best to show you what to do while keeping your hands in his.

You nod and you do exactly what he says, and surely enough, you both skid to a halt closer to one end of the rink. “This… this is not too bad.”

As you gain a bit of confidence, Sunghoon suggests, "Want me to let go of one hand?"

You glance at him from underneath the rim of the helmet and consider the idea for a moment. Part of you wants to prove that you can do it on your own, but another part still needs that stability that he’s providing. Swallowing your pride, you admit, "Maybe just one hand for now."

Sunghoon nods and releases your right hand, slipping to your side. “Are you sure you haven’t skated before?” He pulls you carefully behind him, turning so that you both wouldn’t be bumping straight into the boards—and surprisingly, you turn with ease, keeping your balance as you do. 

You nod stiffly, “I’ve rollerbladed? But that’s not the same.” He shrugs, “It’s the same in some sense.” 

Your eyes fall to the sight of your hand being held delicately in his. The skating has only distracted you from the fact that you were indeed hand-in-hand with Park Sunghoon. 

Shit.

It’s gradual, but you feel it. Beat by beat, your heart begins to pound stronger against your chest.

At first, you ignore it, slowly following the circular path that you and Sunghoon had begun to make after a few rotations. But as Sunghoon continues giving you tips and tricks he’s learned over his many years of figure skating, the more you realize that you can’t actually understand what he’s saying. 

All you could hear was the rushing of blood in your ears and the muffled thumping of that cursed organ behind your rib cage. 

It’s ridiculous, really—how something as simple as your best friend holding your hand is doing this to you—but you’d like to think it’s because you’ve been hiding these damn feelings for far too long and it’s trying it’s best to dig itself out of you.

Then, you hear your name and the heat enveloping your hand is gone. Blinking pulls you back to reality. You see Sunghoon skating away from you, leaving you dab-smacked in the middle of the rink. 

“Wait, where are you going?”

Sunghoon yells a ‘Hold on!’ over his shoulder and climbs over the judges’ booth. He plays with a few buttons, fiddling with the soundboard before pulling his phone out of his pocket to connect it. 

It takes you a few moments to process that Sunghoon is going to play music. 

Sunghoon's voice carries across the ice as he shouts, "I thought some music would make it more fun! Got any requests?" 

You shake off the initial surprise and manage to croak out a response, "Uh, anything is fine!"

He grins and starts scrolling through his playlist. After a few beats, the distant sound of a melody begins to fill the arena. You take notice that he chose a rather dramatic song, one that was rather theatrical, before he skates back to you, extending his hand once again.

"Ready for a little dance on ice?" he teases.

There goes the beat of your heart again. It skyrockets the second he slides to a halt in front of you, like some ice prince that’s been pulled straight out of a book. You chuckle nervously, feeling a mixture of excitement and anxiety. "I don't know about dancing, Hoon."

He takes your hand himself, “I promise I won’t let you fall.” And you couldn’t bring yourself to reject his invitation, almost as if the song and the warmth of his hand had put some kind of trance on you.

Sunghoon leads you into a series of simple moves, his expertise evident in the grace of his movements. Despite the nerves, you find yourself enjoying the rhythm of the music and letting Sunghoon guide you around the centre of the ice. 

As the song reaches its climax, Sunghoon suggests, "How about a spin?"

You hesitate for a moment, “Oh, I don’t know about–” 

Sunghoon dismisses your uncertainty, lifting your arm above your head. And like the expert he was, Sunghoon has you spinning in one spot, guiding you into a semi-graceful twirl. Surprisingly, the movement feels natural, as if you were floating on air rather than gliding on ice. 

Sunghoon takes it upon himself to slow you down, grabbing your shoulders to stop you completely. “How was that?”

“It was fun!” you say, “But… dizzy…” 

Sunghoon nearly overlooks the fact that you were entirely inexperienced with all of this and unfamiliar with the sensation of spinning (whether it was on ice or not). 

You attempt to step forward to prevent yourself from falling, but instead of the skate's blade making contact with the ice, the toe pick hits it, causing you to stumble forward and collide with Sunghoon's chest. 

Sunghoon’s caught off guard, not expecting you to fall forward, and this sends him falling backward and onto his back with you wrapped securely in his arms. The air knocked out of him the second he hit the ice and the both of you are clutching to each other for dear life.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” you say. You can’t find the power in you to get up, “That was my fault, I’m sorry.” 

Sunghoon’s groaning underneath you, trying to catch his breath. “It’s fine, don't worry about it.” He lets his head fall onto the ice, eyes squeezed shut to stop the stars in his eyes. 

Practically chest to chest with Sunghoon, you use one arm to lift some of your weight off of him, “It’s not fine. You could’ve been badly hurt!” 

A soft laugh escapes his lips and he shakes his head, “I’m the one who spun you, Y/N… It was all–” Sunghoon finally opens his eyes to look at you and he’s thrown off guard, fully not expecting you to be right above him, “My… fault…” 

The next song plays over the speaker, slower than the last. It completely shifts the atmosphere, one you couldn’t quite name, but it matches it perfectly. Your heart fails to conceal how you feel and the music does nothing to hide its thumping. 

Sunghoon’s arms are still holding your waist, heat seeping through his thin jacket and through yours, but he doesn’t choose to let go. Not now. Not when…

“Y/N…” 

Sunghoon gently lifts one hand, cradling your cheek in his warm palm. His eyes flicker down to your lips, perfectly aligned just above his thumb.

You can't ignore the subtle shift in his attention, but a nagging doubt creeps in, making you question the reality of the moment… because maybe you were just seeing things…. maybe your heart was messing with the way your brain was functioning.

Perhaps this was impulsive, but you choose to lean in, though slowly, to make sure you had time to stop yourself if you misinterpreted everything. 

And perhaps it wasn’t a mistake because Sunghoon does nothing to stop you.

taglist: @tytrackfebreze @hoonieji @niinjo @dinonuguaegi @mrchweeee @ariadores @reignessance

an: 3/4 done 👀

#Enhypen #sunghoon #Park sunghoon #enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines #enhypen fluff #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon scenarios #Kpop #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #sunghoon x reader #enhypen x reader

[luffyvace]

Katsuki Bakugo x Shoto twin reader

These are for my good friend irl :) ENJOY!!

btw this is written with fem! Reader in mind. Yes I will likely do a male reader version dw 💗 (i don’t think it’ll have shoto twin reader)

So bakugo in a relationship huh? Not the first thing I’d think he’s into but hey, it’s already happened now! 🤷‍♀️

About kats and todo’s beef tho….

at the beginning I mean

katsuki isn’t the type of person to lump people in with your siblings or wtv

buttttt if you and shoto are similar/have similar personalities or interests he might somewhat dislike you at first

if not he doesn’t mind

but it’d especially tick him off if you and todo gang up on him in fights/arguments

but again he decides his opinion of you based off what you show him him or how you present yourself

which is why he didn’t remember most people’s names at the beginning of the show

bc he didn’t have anything to remember them by-

he may come up to you on some sunny callin you icy hot 2.0 n stuff but if you assert your dominance and show him you deserve respect then he lets go of that quickly

not out of fear but because katsuki doesn’t really pick on the people he respects

best jeanist is a great example of what I mean!

if your relation to todo is really similar however

he might find you a bit more annoying at first

he just thinks of you as the off brand version of todoroki until you give him a reason to respect you 😗

Although if your talking more mature kats when it’s like s4 around then he’s more likely to view you as your own person first time around

he also doesn’t do any of that crap anymore and doesn’t mind that you and todo are twins

he used to always mutter ‘your wretched brother’ this and that

but he cut that out

i mean unless you nipped it in the bun back then 🤪

and to do that you likely have to humble him

So after that phase is over nicknames can range from a shorter version of your name to aliases he/people have given you

like how shoto’s quirk is hot/cold so he calls him icy hot

But whatever he comes up with for you isn’t said with a bad intent by him, of course

And w/ cooking you already know his is FIRE 🔥🔥💥💥

like it’s canon this man can cook like 💃💃🕺👯‍♀️👯‍♀️

(that’s you dancing bc his food’s so good)

GET YOU A MAN LIKE KATSUKI. GET YOU A MAN THAT CAN COOK. 💥💥💥

he be using all types of seasoning so you KNOW it ain’t dry

especially if your a spicy food lover

like I feel he genuinely doesn’t get people who doesn’t like spicy food

he may think your a bit of a wimp..🤓

If you inherited endeavor’s fire quirk he finds it useful that you can lite his barbecues or make fire for cooking in the woods for example

he still heated that explosions don’t work 🤦‍♀️

but ngl he’d rather you than shoto sooo..����‍♀️

For love languages his is quality time, acts of service and a bit of gift giving

with quality time he likes to ice skate with you since (if you inherited the ice quirk) you can withstand the cold

He’d try to impress you by saying he’s not that cold (even with a coat on) but he actually is

why would he admit that tho

he’s actually cold don’t torture him by staying longer than you need to

(or do I ain’t gonna judge 😂)

kats likes challenges because it makes him feel accomplished once he completed them

So he likes to do freezer challenges!!

(basically it’s this challenge where you go into a walk in freezer and see who can last the longest—don’t try this at home I’ve only seen this on YouTube and idk if that’s the actual name)

and of course your immune to the cold so it’s easy for you

so if he beats you it’ll make him feel proud

don’t think that just bc your his girlfriend he doesn’t compete with you

there’s no way he’s seeing an opportunity to become the number 1 hero and not taking it to let his girlfriend be happy

don’t blame him who would……

when you first get into your relationship things might be a little awkward and you may or may not be a little intimidated by him

which if you are he feels sorta bad and he doesn’t want you to be

he doesn’t want people he cares about to think he’s some monster

if you were just come class b rubbish what does he care what you think?

but your his girlfriend and probably his first of course he cares what you think of him!

you likely address this early because he doesn’t like the feeling it gives him

so no worries :)

if you were never intimidated by him tho

its probably just awkward silence..

even more so if you were as aloof as todo was back in the first season

or if your just a quiet/socially awkward person

kats isn’t awkward he just doesn’t really know what to say either..

deeper in relationship tho!!

things are a lot less tense and more casual

a thing you do a lot is kinda just be sprawled in bed together doing your own thing

not necessarily cuddling but your both just comfy

you guys have picked up on your couple routines and habits and what not

so things have definitely smoothed over

thankfully

with baths kats prefers not to take them together

like he just doesn’t see the point

and it’s prob quicker separately

yeah no he’s not doing it

if you’ve been together for years by now, however

he might let you wash his hair

only cuz he likes the way you scrub/scratch his scalp

its relaxing

he still doesn’t wanna do it all the time tho

You two def always work out together

so at least that

he always makes sure you pack everything before going to train/work out

he’s more meticulous than you know and it annoys him when one of you forget something

“it’s fine katsuki just leave it!”

”no I’ll just go run and get it it’s fine!”

you might as well wait bc he just has to have this one thing

idk why

you guys take a good amount of water breaks and such but you go really hard core while your at it

He’s probably either silent or a yelling motivator..no in between

Your friends lowkey ship you guys

and tease you

mina tries to get you to do pranks on katsuki

mostly bc she gets more backlash if she does it

LOL

like little stupid pranks like drawing on his face or acting like your cheating 😊

THATS NOT A LITTLE PRANK BUT SHE TRIES TO CONVINCE YOU ANYWAY-

“give in to peer pressure!” >:(

Dont katsuki will explode

LITTERALLY-

ok my bad but I just had to put at least one bad joke in there..

💥💥

HOPE YOU ENJOYED!!

I had fun writing this and it didn’t take long at all :)

#bakugou katsuki #anime #anime and manga #luffyvace #mha #mha bakugou #mha bakugo katsuki #mha bakugo x reader #mha bakugō #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha bakugou #dynamight #bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki #bakugo x y/n #bakugo x you #katsuki #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugo mha #katsuki x you #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugo #bnha #bnha x reader #bnha headcanons #mha headcanons #mha x reader #mha x y/n #x y/n

[yuwigqi]

Batfam members by which obscure Olympic Sport(s) they would be (its a stunt for charity or something):

Bruce: His inquisitive nature leads him to ask: Is there a limit on how many Sports You're Allowed to Compete In? Not for him. He wins gold in Golf, Diving, Badminton, Greco-Roman Wrestling, Ice Dancing with Cass (she's not going to prom of course, so this is his best chance at a father-daughter dance) BMX Racing, Men's Skeet (he has nothing against sport shooting! Honest!), Dressage, and Weightlifting (wait? 860 KILOS??), and Beach Volleyball (Dick is his partner). In fact, he already did sports with Dick and Cass! Why not all his kids! Badminton with Bette (she's basically his niece, come on now), Tennis with Jason, Luge with Tim (Tim literally falls asleep on top of him), and 3x3 Basketball with Damian and Duke.

Kate: Kate runs a poll on twitter asking for the "Straightest sport possible" and that's how she ends up doing a fucking 50 kilometer race walk. Why the fuck is walking an Olympic Sport?? I don't know Kathy, its for charity, just do it please. So for one day, Kate turns into Karen, and speed walks 3. Fucking. Hours. Kate is tempted to melt her Bronze of course its fucking bronze medal down into parts for nose piercings out of malic

Luke: Obvs wants to go into a combat sport. Which is why Dick purposefully tells he he wouldn't be able to do anything else, and dares him to try Artistic Gymnastics. He gets Gold in Rings and Silver in Pommel Horse and Vault

Dick: Dick wants to challenge himself by doing the other Gymnastics he's never done. So he signs up for Rhythmic Gymnastics! But...it's a women-only sport. Which is why Dick comes out as genderfluid and is a woman specifically for the games (cue Tim being fucking furious at Dick about enforcing negative stereotypes). And naturally, Dick wins. But also....you know...he kind of really feels...empowered with she/her pronouns. Like....it feels right. And thus, it took winning an Olympic Sport for Dick to realize he was bigender all along.

Bette: She's like actually a Tennis player, so that. Also, she idolizes Dick and wants to impress him with her super good Gymnastics skills. After winning the gold she bites it in tradition, and it actually bends. She actually ended up with a fucking poorly made tin medal fuck this is so embarrassing noone look at me

Babs: Curling, another weird fucking sport. It's basically like shuffleboard on ice. And honestly, like, its not an athletic sport. Honestly, you probably could do it in a wheelchair. And a huge part of it is technique and intellect. It was MADE for Oracle. After she wins Tesla reachers out for a sponsorship deal to make a robotic wheelchair, and Babs makes a working spaceship just to fucking spite Elon. She also hacks X and removes all the X branding, literally turning it back into Twitter.

Jason: I kid you not, in 2024 they will add competitive breakdancing To the Summer games. Jason is on the first U.S. team. It...you know there were worse ways to make money on the streets than street performing...and you know...it was fun too...I made like $74 one day outside an iHop. No shit fuck Babs don't look for it please don't fuck no please

Tim: Skateboarding has also been recently added to the Olympics. Tim isn't allowed to put his Superboy stickers on it because Young Justice happen to be involved in several international incidents.

Steph: Everyone remembers Steph lived in Africa, but no one even bothered to ask her about it, much less ask which country. Ethiopia, thank you for asking. Curious how they offered her citizenship right after she announced her Olympic plans. Steph wins gold in Speed Skating, giving the continent of Africa its first ever medal in the Winter Games. (She mentions this every single time possible)

Dami: Modern Pentathlon is by far the weirdest fucking sport in existence, but Dami loves it. He gets to swordfight, shoot things, and most importantly. meet a horse.

Cass: Karate kata. Cass in a combat sport would just be unfair, so she does the Kata, just showing off the execution and form. Ice Dancing with Bruce, as mentioned earlier. Her outfit is based on the Black Swan, of course. Frustratingly Bruce is much better at it than her, and she's unsure why. Until it dawns on her she's competing and he's having fun with his daughter. After she stops caring about scores, they two get the highest score in history.

Duke: Artistic Swimming. 2024 is the first year men will be allowed. "No Bruce, I'm isn't going to use my powers to see easily in the water, god." And showing off his abs to that pretty girl in his Women's Studies Elective is definitely not part of his choice of sport. Nope. (She's turned off by his puberty acne, and Duke cries in his room for 8 days straight)

Harper: No Bruce. No Steph. Fuck you Cass. No. No. No. Hey Harper, just wanna let you know, as part of the charity thing, we're doing a gala, and Bernard's busy. Do you think Cullen would like to go?...Fine Tim, I'll do it, for Cullen. Harper of course needs to do something to make an impact though. If she's gonna do this shit, she might as well have fun with it. Which is why she starts a one-woman crusade to add a new sport. It takes petitions, conferences, and a few million dollars in charitable donations to the IOC...but a new sport is added, and Harper Rowe because the Olympic's first ever gold medalist in Sumo Wrestling.

#This was fun to make #Batman #Batfam #Bruce Wayne #Dick Grayson #Kate Kane #Luke Fox #Jason Todd #Bette Kane #Barbara Gordon #Stephanie Brown #Cassandra Cain #Tim Drake #Damian Wayne #Duke Thomas #Harper Row #Alfred of course makes them take group photos with their medals when they get home

[from-izzy]

the warmest winter | tbz choi chanhee | new

"She has a date with me tomorrow."

​PAIRING » tbz choi chanhee (new) x fem!reader​ TROPE/AU » ​childhood friends to lovers, fake dating au, non-idol au!, high school au! GENRE​ » fluffy fluff with a touch of angst, reader is a skater! (has her hair up in a bun), chanhee is very jelly of juyeon (hehe), but also chanhee is just jealous in general (...hehe), fake dating (i tried my best ahhhh), juyeon makes an appearance as jealous chanhee's rival WORD COUNT » 5805 ESTIMATED READING TIME » ~21 mins WARNINGS (lmk if i missed anything!) » very inaccurate depiction of skating in general (writing this made me miss skating...), very fast proofreading (twice)

navi/masterlist!! 🤍

hi @astrae4 !! yes, i'm your secret santa!! 🤭 sorry (not really hehe) for tricking you into thinking otherwise 🫢 it was very cute and funny to hear you say "it's definitely not you" when we were on call 🤣 had my camera been on, i wouldn't have gotten away with it 😫 just to let you know that @heemingyu was also playing along too (thanks for that and reading this, honey bee!) 😁 don't be too mad, dek! 😭 i'm innocent—

There are many good things about having a best friend who has known you since you were in diapers. 

For you, the funniest reason would be how you would dead stare him across the room, with the straightest and plainest face, him directing one back at you. It sends the others into a fit of confusion, worries and frustration as none could ever figure out what’s in the duo’s minds. The chaotic reason would be that you would both wreak havoc together. Like that one time during the last day of primary school when you both decide to fill up thirty water balloons to their full capacity and throw them to any of the teachers in the outdoor field, fearless of the possibility of getting in trouble as graduation was around three hours after. The embarrassing reason would be that Chanhee would come to cheer you on your sport, luxuriously with his branded clothes from all his hard work, holding his big handmade slogan to support you as you glide across the ice to your routine. He would always get an earful from you after but he got his karma when you came in, dressed in highlighter yellow, sitting on the front row seat to his singing performance. 

It’s the day that everyone has realised that the two of you are menaces to society. 

The comforting reason, and is one of the biggest reasons why you two are still stuck to the hip after a decade, would be that when your lips are pouted, eyes glistening with tears, hugging your knees to your chest and whimpering your worries in the night, Chanhee would sit beside you wordlessly. Patiently waiting for you to cry your feelings out, patting your back rhythmically as he sometimes let time pass by scrolling through his phone, occasionally showing the funny reel on his screen to get you to join in his laughs. For him, the moment of calmness when you both would hit the breaks to your chaotic lives would be the best ones too with Friday nights becoming obligatory ‘brake time to get a break from society’ which can sometimes be too much.

But this Friday is a bit different. 

Your final skating competition before you graduate high school is coming up in less than a month and despite the nervous butterflies growing in your stomach, you’re still very much excited to participate. You’re somewhat confident that you’ll do well, especially with all the experience that you have and the achievements and trophies that show off your hard work. But all of that didn’t stop you from agreeing to the voice in your head that tells you to put your blades on and just bask in the cold. Feeling nervous is a given but you have to believe in yourself that you can win this scholarship to your dream university. 

The blades of your skates glide smoothly across the new ice sheet that has recently resurfaced once more. This is the second time that you had to step out of the rink and it shows the duration that you’ve spent without thinking much. Even when the doors to the public were closed, through your coach and her connections to the people who work at the rink, you were able to stay for even longer. Staying on the ice also meant that you were separated from your phone, leaving everyone on delivered for another two hours. 

But Chanhee knows your habits, driving to the ice rink and pushing the still-unlocked front door to see you skating leisurely without a care in the world. He smiles warmly behind his blue scarf, delighted at the little smile and satisfying self-cheer when you land correctly, scratching the ice with your achievements once again. Silently, he sits down on one of the benches, going on his phone but still occasionally looking at your dancing figure once in a while.

You don’t know how you missed a whole hour of another person’s presence—or maybe it’s because you’re so used to and comfortable with him that you don’t notice him—but you literally almost trip from the ice and the edge of the ice rink when you spot your best friend with his Hello Kitty beanie that you gifted him this year for his birthday.

“Slow down.” He tries to hold his laughter when you let out a puff of air, annoyed at your clumsiness. “You should come eat. I’m sure you forgot about that.”

The mention of food and the familiar takeout bag from your favourite place brightens your face, the corners of your lips lifting immensely and you kick off your shoes, tiptoeing in the cold and wet puddles to quickly fill up your stomach after a successful practice session. 

“Knew I could count on you.” 

“Duh.” He rolls his eyes playfully. “I feel so bad for your stockings, I swear.” Commenting on your slightly damp black fabric. 

The only response he got was the way you rub the watered part onto his pants, him shrieking and sliding himself away from you on the bench, only for you to of course follow him. In the end, when he reaches the end of the aluminium seat, he only groans and tells you off, giving an empty warning that he’ll never pick you up and buy you food ever again. When you put your tongue out, making a funny face to him, his cheeks blush hues of red and pink in the dimly lit seating area—you didn’t see it though as you were too focused on the flavours bursting in your mouth. 

When you fully focus back on your food once again, leaving him in his little world, Chanhee buries his lower face further into his scarf, away from your field of vision. He leans a little bit back to make sure he can just admire you without being too obvious. His heart flutters when his mind replays back to your mischievous and cute face, and the way you didn’t mind being so close to his face—though he was freaking out about it all. 

But how could he ever tell you? Because he can’t even explain to you when he started to fall for you. Was it that time when you ran to him at primary school, winging about how you needed a friend to get ice cream? Or that time when you stayed by his side and continued to support him when he hit the hard times while he was preparing for his first performance in high school? What about that time when you would just lay on his shoulder and listen to his worries, completely understanding his thoughts, never judging him through words or facial expressions?

He can’t even make sense of it to himself. Let alone with you.

“I’m annoyed.” Your voice trails off in the big area but it reaches his ears easily.

Judging from the way your feet kick the air and the accommodating tone of your voice with your words, Chanhee’s lips pull into a straight line. “Another one?” followed by a deep chuckle and a frustrated sigh from you. 

“It’s not that funny, okay? You know I’m bad at rejecting…”

He ponders the thought behind your words, nodding as his memories play the series or tears after politely and in some cases, not as kindhearted, rejecting the ones who made an advance for you. When asked why those tears were showing, you commented how “it didn't feel right” and alternatives to “he didn't feel at home. He likes me because of my appearance. He's never even talked to me!” 

Chanhee wishes that it would never be like that for him. But it's okay, for he would never tell you his feelings for you anyway.

The realization weighed deeply in his heart, resonating hurt throughout his entire body. He glances over at you, hopefully discreetly, with how much love he could give you at any time. Impulsively, acting with a tinge of jealousy and possessiveness, the suggestion curled out from his tongue without another thought.

“Date me instead.”

Your feet stop kicking the air and both of your bodies are now stiff with widened eyes, as if the cold finally got to you guys.

“What?”

It sends Chanhee into a momentary faze and the blush on his cheeks spreads through not only his face but his entire body.

“Fake!” 

“HUH?”

“Like, fake dating!”

Then the implications behind his words finally sink into you. You didn’t realise this before but the idea does seem great for someone like you who has been trying to get people off your case. It’s tiring, especially when you can’t find a proper connection with either of them—none of them was better than your connection with Chanhee.

“For once in your life,” Your hand gives him a firm pat on his shivering shoulders, “you have come up with a great idea.”

Playing off the slight hurt in his heart, knowing that from your words that you didn’t see him anymore than just friends, Chanhee bravely flashes you a smile. “Do you want to or not?”

“...what’s the catch?” The growing grin on his face tells you everything. “I know you, Choi Chanhee. There’s no way something as taxing and effortful as dealing with me, has no catch to this agreement. Tell me!”

“The catch is,” he takes off his scarf, exposing the lower half of his face to you. Carefully, he wraps the dark blue material around yours, no longer seeing the exhaling white air, “that you get to listen to whatever I say.”

Adding a little touch to this, he bops the tip of your nose earning a deep grunt and shove from you but your hands still held on to the top edge of his scarf, enjoying the familiar scent and warmth that came from it. 

“Does that soothe your chaotic mind?”

“Mhm.” You hum in agreement, feeling your neck loosen from all the tension from the previous regular meetups that you both will have. Especially with you being so busy the entire time, it was nearly impossible to meet up with Chanhee unless he was the one going all the way for you. 

“Nothing will change.” Chanhee shrugs. “We’re just…us. Everyone is already thinking that we’re dating anyway so the only thing that'll change is more hand-holding and all that.”

“No kissing!”

“W-Wha--Of course not!” This time, you were shoved back. “Who wants to kiss you anyway? You literally drool in your sleep!”

“Hey!” With each growing rebuttal, so did the echo that bounced within the walls, “Don’t say that! You know how lonely, I am! That’s so mean!”

The laughing boy didn’t do much to ease you, just sticking a tongue out at you. He did, however, reach out to hold your icy hand. It made him frown, the little mountain growing on his lips. Suddenly, the gap between your body closes with him wrapping a secure hold of your waist. Confused by the sudden proximity, you let out a string of stutters as you look up to see him already staring at you.

“W-What are you…doing…?”

“We’re dating now.” He shrugs nonchalantly, “You have to get used to this.”

“No one is here, Chanhee.” 

He has never been one to initiate skinship. It has always been you cuddling up to his side like a koala, clinging and dragging him to every single place that you wanted to go.

“J-Just…leave me alone and let me hug you.” And he did. Your upper body twists to completely face him and your chin goes over the scarf to rest on his padded jacket. The height difference is why he had to bend to your figure, basically slumping over you but neither of you minded. With a clear of his throat without another word or action, he lets you go, stands up and asks for your hand. “It’s too cold. Let’s go, I’ll drop you home.”

“Wait Chanhee…” 

You drag the last syllable and the hand that reaches out for you slowly lowers. Chanhee sighs, knowing that it can't be good judging from the tone and the way your lips pull sideways.

“I need to rant about my upcoming duet routine.”

“Oh.”

He remembers the first time when you did perform once with someone else. Of course in group work, your effort and contributions matter just as much as theirs would matter to you. But your first (and what you hoped to be your last) partner ruined all potentially happy thoughts about performing with someone else. It sucked that even though you both did win a place at the podium, the stress and effort of basically choreographing at least ninety percent of the routine was not worth the bronze medal on the podium.

For a short while, it killed you to be on the ice and you refused to even step back there without a pressing reason. You're thankful that your coach has always been an understanding one because if she wasn't, your career in figure skating would be shredded at this point. Chanhee did help too, reminding you of the joy and laughter, even making himself borrow some skates from his friend. It led to bruises and him face-planting into the pile of snow but at least he got to see the way your eyebags disappeared over time.

That's more than worth it for him.

“You'll be alright.” He reassured first, kneeling to get into eye level with you even though yours is downcasted. He knows that your mind would go back to the past. “You got a shit partner but you'll be fine. I promise you that you'll do better this time.”

“I hope…”

“Who is it with this time?”

Despite breathing the cool air whenever you could, you could never get enough of it. 

“Lee Juyeon.”

Something inside him stops. Time didn't though because from his peripherals, he noticed how you stood and skipped your way down to the ground floor, patting your outfit dry as if some sort of ice or dust had dirtied it. He hears your announcement, shouting that you will get your things ready from the back room and miraculously, he lets out a croaked answer in return.

Lee Juyeon. 

Everyone in school loved him, Chanhee included. Most wanted to date him, others wanted to be him while the remaining loathed the way he was perfect in every way. In short, Lee Juyeon is the total opposite of Choi Chanhee. 

He prefers to spend his days quietly in the library alone while Juyeon prefers to attend parties. While Chanhee would be in his bed sleeping in the morning, Juyeon would be taking his daily morning run before rushing back home to shower and get ready for the school day. When Juyeon would be in his weekly student council meetings, Chanhee would eat ice cream at that nearby restaurant, basking in the sweetness after a stressful day.

This unfamiliar feeling sends Chanhee into a slight brain freeze when he imagines you both not only close physically but the fact that you will be near the perfect boy for the majority of your time—and the fact that he won't be able to spend time with you because you'll be busy with other priorities—makes the green feeling inside his chest grow with the devil snickering inside his head. He was still so deep in thought that he didn't even notice you wave your hands infront of his face despite having his eyes seemingly on your face.

“It's almost midnight.” You say, opting to drag him out of the building with a hold of his clothed wrist. “Daydream later, loser.”

Oh, you're so right about that. And he's in deep trouble about it all. 

What he didn’t truly prepare for, however, is the number of times that you would leave him on delivered, responding to his messages from the beginning of the day to the end in one go, buzzing his phone repeatedly when he’s doing his final skin routine before sleep takes over him. He’s still understanding, knowing how the competition is important for you. At least she still answers me back right? He reassures himself while throwing the face mask away, the cooling air on his face suddenly turns his mind back to the short ‘date’ from the other day. 

He still remembers the pink checkered shorts that you paired with a simple button white long sleeve. Your hair is freed in the wind, taking the scent of your shampoo—to him. The struggles of keeping his palm dry when it’s around yours, and the bigger struggle to keep his skin neutral void of any redness whenever he catches a glance of your smile.

“Once more!” You plead, handing your phone back to him after switching back to the camera app. 

Despite the roll of his eyes, he’s thankful that the device hid his face from yours, even if it’s only a while. He focuses on the screen and your figure, arguably more than the technology. He directs your poses: hands collecting your hair into a bun, looking down at your feet while the other shot is one of you puckering your lips, looking to the side with a quick peace sign.

Both became his lock and home screen using the excuse of making the relationship more believable—we know more than that though.

It fuels his hate for himself and Juyeon when he texts you that he finished the final part of the routine, asking if you’re free to test it out with him.

After that, school was the only place where you would exchange smiles, stick out tongues, share food, hugs and even kisses on each other’s cheeks, Chanhee only found himself in deep trouble. The public display of affection did make other boys leave you alone, gulping and scurrying away in masses when he would throw them a side glare, his hand on your waist tightening his hold each time. 

It would drag your attention to him, whenever he does that. Such a new feeling, yet fluttering and intimate. You would clutch the loose fabric of his shirt, hand once relaxed on his chest. Brown eyes would run over the creases of disgust and the lines of fury across his usual soft, kind face. Whenever you would ask him for a peek inside his mind, his eyes would quickly turn to the ones that he would usually show whenever he would laugh and nag you to put your upper body back inside his car in the late-night drives. Or when you would do your night routines together every single time, without fail—for your information, it’s been two weeks since then.

Sure it’s all for show, but two weeks ago when he proposed the idea, it seemed that nothing had changed for him and even though he’s glad that no one is crazily chasing after you anymore, it hurt that he feels like he’s been abandoned by you. Heck, he hasn’t even taken you out for a ‘date’ yet. Friendly date, ‘fake’ date. The label that you would put on it didn’t matter much for him as long he took some of your time.

So now, with the owl hooting outside his window, dressed and ready to sleep with his Hello Kitty pyjamas, something is telling him to pick up his keys from the handmade bowl that you both messily painted as kids, go for some drive-through to pick up your favourite food and drive to the ice rink.

The sight that greeted him when he did reach his destination caused the paper cup in his hand to spill all over the rubber of the ice rink. The low-pitched clatter stops the laughs that erupt from you and the male who had his arms wrapped around your waist, his defined chest pressing comfortably against your exposed back due to your outfit, is the one who straightens his back first, noticing the painful gaze from outside the rink.

But again, Juyeon is everything Chanhee isn’t. 

The way that Juyeon let out that signature ‘oh’ of his with the sickening way that he hollers a greeting to the envious boy, not even bothering to throw a discouraging comment that would hurt his pride and would then rightfully give a reason to hate him that has a glad upturned smile on his face, Chanhee would’ve run straight back to the door that he opened excitedly before. Just like your skating partner, you also let out an ‘oh!’ at his presence and he couldn’t help but think that now, Juyeon isn’t taking away his time with you anymore but also the way you speak. 

Leisurely gliding your way towards the railing of the enclosed rink, the anterior side of your forearm rests, your feet still making little circles on the part of the rink that wouldn’t usually be given that much attention to professional skaters like you.

“Having fun?” It came out more venomous and spiteful than he thought. Even his eyes widened slightly in fear, seeing a similar look in your eyes. But he maintains eye contact with you, the paper of the takeaway scrunching rapidly under his hold.

“I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone. See you tomorr—”

“She has a date with me tomorrow.”

“Wait, Chanh—”

“Right?”

It’s so impossible to miss. Not with the way that maybe if Chanhee blinks, the normal act could’ve probably sent his eyes into a newfound breakdown that he has been trying so desperately to hide. Especially not in front of Juyeon, he’s not about to cry now. 

Your chest raises, inhaling the stuffy air to your beating lungs. Lips parted to start speaking your thoughts and Chanhee watched with a more definite crease between his eyebrows as you could only articulate the sounds of some familiar words, unable to audibly tell him anything. For what seemed like forever, you both just looked at each other. You tilt your head every single time your best friend directs his attention away to his house slippers back to your eyes. Beneath the tough exterior that he’s putting on, it’s easy for you to see how something is troubling him. 

The first one is his attire. Unless you were in a life-or-death situation, there is no way Chanhee would stain the white satin button-up and long pants. There was one time when you were begging profusely for a late-night snack and spontaneous hangout but even then, he just nodded and hummed into the phone, telling you that he needs to “keep the white pure, away from the sins of the outside world.” 

Juyeon quietly leaves the scene, hand giving a tight squeeze before disappearing for the night.

“Let’s sit down?” You offer, uncertainty clouding your judgement. 

The bench awaits patiently for you, the jacket lazily slopped over it. You’re so tense and unsure about the situation that even taking the steps up the dry stairs was so quiet—more silent than the shaking exhales that the puff of coloured air made due to the cold. Your fingers brush against the fine hair of the material but you didn’t put it on yourself. The tips of your hair flip around to see your best friend not even anywhere near the bottom step, still frozen in the same place as before.

Knowing that you won’t be in the mood to skate after whatever confrontation and conversation you’ll have with him, you pack your bags, slipping off into comfortable shoes for running—if you really have to. Chanhee’s bangs fell over his eyes easily with the downward tilt of his head, a miracle that his neck wasn’t cramping right now. From the shadows on the ground, a long line goes over his head and his shoulder lazes a new heavy material. The body part tries to shake the warmth stubbornly but a click of your tongue is what stops Chanhee from flopping around like a dying fish.

“Did you know my dad used to be in the mafia?”

It’s supposed to take you both out of this challenging atmosphere but you know that even though his eyes are hidden because of his posture and his grown strands, he isn’t going to return the playfulness. The strap of your backpack is the only one that knows your nervousness, croaking due to the leather material, your nails probably engraving this moment into its skin.

“Juyeon…huh?” 

A broken laugh comes out from you, eyes wandering to the background space around his head area. Has the wall always had that crack on the wall? Oh…how is the fly surviving in this weather? Is it raining outsi—

“Do you like Juyeon?”

“W-What?” Why did the question hurt so much to hear? “I’m dating you, Chanhee.”

“I don’t think anyone believes it to be honest.” He shrugs, adamant about staying focused on the topic. “I just wanted to know,” His eyes dart around the place, anywhere but to you, “wanting to know if you’re part of the ninety percent of our cohort that likes him.”

“Oh.” It was out of nowhere but being suspicious isn’t the right word to describe it. It was more to curiosity as to why Chanhee would just ask such a thing all of a sudden. “I do think he’s attractive.” You shrug leisurely, unaware of the screaming in his head. “He’s a good partner too.”

Chanhee tries his best to mask the growing ache in his chest, blankly nodding. “He is your type after all.”

“I have a type?” One of your eyebrows rises, “I didn’t even know that myself.”

“Right…” Finally, the food is shoved into your chest, just like how it’s always been. If so, then why did it hurt you when he told you, “Date him then.”

An immeasurable kind of clench was made by the muscles around your heart.

“W-What?”

Thank god you changed shoes because he stormed out right after.

Your phone also became silent, no more life was given to Chanhee. What annoyed you most wasn’t the ‘good’ news that spread to the boys but the fact that he would make it so obvious that he hated you whenever you would make your presence known to him.

“Talk to him after this.” Juyeon encourages you, handing your bottle of water from his hand.

“I can’t.” You huffed. “He treats me like a plague.”

You quite literally cannot have this in your mind right now. The competition is in a few hours and you messed up both of your rehearsals for tonight. The slight pain that throbs from your lower palm will be, you swear, used to slap someone who truly deserves a wake-up call. As the sun rose each day for the past week, it also burnt along your hopes that Chanhee would talk and ease your worries so that you could dance freely, marking your perfect twirls on the ice that shines along with you. 

Juyeon’s eyes relax, sending you a slumped smile with half-lidded eyes. “Does he know about tonight?”

You did indeed send him a message about today but you’re doubtful that he would come. You even tried bribing him with free food but maybe the boy knows that your anger might turn to something more, saving himself from your hits and complaints. 

But you’re just unaware of what he’s truly trying to save himself from.

The sunset marks the start of the open doors. Relatives, schoolmates, acquaintances and even strangers bustle through with their appropriate clothes—including a young girl with short sleeves that you are sure would throw a fit to ask her mother for a jacket—all gathered to support the skaters, especially those who have university representatives to impress.

With the cute bright pink mittens, the waving hands catch your attention quickly. You send a quick wave back to your sister who waves the supportive banner she made, along with your parents who gave you thumbs up, placing their hands around the circumference of their mouth to shout and holler at you.

It’s all so awesome.

But it would’ve been perfect had someone else come.

The realisation makes your heart drop. Chanhee has always come to all your competitions without fail but this one, when everything is on the line. Before you have to completely push your phone away, your thumbs search for his contacts, automatically just checking in your recent section. Even though the relationship between you is ambiguous, you couldn’t find it in you to change his name which implies a romantic title for him.

It seems right.

It seemed that no one should have that title but him.

Your eyelids collect as much water as they can before it spills onto the phone screen. It seemingly glitches the words on the glass, distorting your spam messages for him. “Just come…please…” you whisper before texting him the same exact words that you just said.

But he decides to crush the final hopes that you ever had in him, leaving you on seen once again. The familiar shout that gathers all the players rings through your ears and Juyeon’s figure behind you also tells you that it’s time to push Chanhee aside for now.

“He’s not my boyfriend, Ju…” The truth spills out and even though the boy has things to ask, he decides to let you rant before going. “But I want him to be.”

You know this now with the distance he puts between you. 

It’s suffocating. 

More than dehydration. More than the minus temperature. More than the scratch on your hand.

“I just want him, Juyeon…” Beads in your eyes, shaking lips and true feelings. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He nods, wishing the best for you. “I knew that my feelings wouldn’t be reciprocated.” 

It lifted off a weight in your chest, knowing that Juyeon’s reassurance that you would both still stay friends. You both sway beautifully on the ice, balancing and leaving the audience in awe, judges in amazement and competitors in envy. If there is one thing you can take away from this, is that for you, being on ice with someone else can truly be fun. You both promise to meet each other on the ice next time, in the future, professionally and relieve this perfect teammate chemistry once again.

And now, you’re shaking your limbs, trying your best to ease your nerves.

Still no sign of him.

You force your neck to look down, just focusing on the marks of the moulded plastic and leather, plunging the front spikes of the shoes into the floor.

“That’s…going to make a mark.”

That voice.

The one that could ever stare at you with a blank stare and contain his laughter. The one that would leave others in fear whenever a sinister smile and wiggling of eyebrows would be sent to each other. The same one that stands beside you, taking the blame alone when the drenched teacher finds you both.

The same one that would usually sit by your sister and make the banner with her, splashing on extra glitter and Hello Kitty stickers. The same one that would lend his luxury brand accessories, not getting mad if you accidentally broke it.

It propels you forward to his already half-opened arms, waiting for you, always reserved for you. Just as you promised to yourself, Chanhee takes the hits on his chest, listening to your words and letting his clothes seep your cries.

“I know, I’m sorry.” One hand encircles your waist from behind, the other patting your hairsprayed scalp. “I won’t lie that I skipped the one you did with Juyeon but I know your parents recorded it so,” he shrugs, “but I’m here for the main performance. Yours.”

Your small chuckle made him do the same. “You’re not wearing a stupid outfit.”

Chanhee hums. “I thought I would be a very supportive friend and won’t embarrass you for this event.”

“Boyfriend.”

“W-What?”

“You’re my boyfriend.”

It leaves him in a daze but he knows that you weren’t joking. To him, his gulp seemed a bit loud but maybe with the way you slowly left his arms, you might’ve missed it. 

“I love you, Chanhee.” Your eyes searched for rejection but all he did was blink at you rapidly. You took this as a sign to keep going. “I think I always have and you being idiotic just made it clear to me.”

“O-Oh…”

“D-Do you—” You shake your head, waving your hands the same way to him. “Actually don’t tell me! Let me skate first. J-Just watch me…”

When was the last time Chanhee has seen you so flustered? It leaves him breathless and his heart soaring and he knows within himself that he wants to be the only one to ever put you in that state. He gives a nod, a smile plastered on his face. You thought he would join your parents on the bench but he stays near the entrance of the rink, giving your lower back the lightest touch, whispering you a final message before you enter the spotlight.

The message rings in your ear the whole time. The music suddenly fades but every time you could catch a glimpse of Chanhee, you know that he didn’t say it for you to feel flustered and fail. 

And fail, did you not. 

The reward on the podium with a gold medal hanging around your neck sends you many obstacles of representatives who want you to join the team. But they could wait.

Just like a few minutes ago, your arms circles his neck, pushing Chanhee’s lips to your own. A few seconds before your lips meet him, the boy lets out a little ‘hmph’ before he softens, his eyes closing in the same time and way yours does. The way the cold replaces the warmth of his lips leaves you both chuckling even when he momentarily pushes you away to save himself from the tickles that you gave his waist. But once again, the words that he whispers against your shy lips remind you that his eyes have always held the same love that you have given him and the way your lips move passionately in sync with his, tells you that he wasn’t playing around with his words.

With your heart.

With you.

“I love you,” he tells you with his lips.

The motives behind his proposal with this whole fiasco become clear and the redness on your face is no longer due to the energy-consuming routine that you just performed. It deepens when he gives you his mittens, slipping them through your fingers and messaging each one with care. It deepens further when he lends you a fabric to keep your throat healthy so that you can confess to him again. It deepens even more when he realises that you’re shivering after the adrenaline of your sport drains you and he wraps his scent around your uniform.

“Thanks for making my winters warmer.”

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 tags (send a dm/ask if you would like to be here!): @deoboyznet 📢❤️ @k-labels 💙🤍 @k-films 🤎🎞️ @kflixnet 📺🍿

#deoboyznet #dbn: holiday party #k-labels #k-films #chanhee x reader #choi chanhee x reader #chanhee fluff #chanhee angst #chanhee imagines #chanhee scenario #tbz x reader #the boyz fanfic #the boyz imagines #the boyz x reader #the boyz x you #tbz fluff #tbz imagines #tbz scenarios #the boyz #tbz #the boyz new #the boyz scenarios #the boyz chanhee #chanhee #tbz chanhee #tbz new #choi chanhee #chanhee tbz #new x reader

[cuttergauthier]

Neighbours

Quinn Hughes x Female reader

Warning: against, fluff, cussing, alcohol

word count: 3.7k

let me know what you guys think🤍

April 2022

I moved to Vancouver 2 weeks ago for work even though I can work from home. I wanted a change so I decided to move. I'm a clothing designer. I started the summer before I started going to university. It was hard trying to juggle a clothing brand and university at the same time especially since i was doing extra classes during summer since i wanted to be able to finish a semester earlier so i could go back home for summer & be settled in Vancouver for when i come back in September, but i was able to make it work.

When I first started I would only make 1 shirt in all sizes and sell them, it took a while to be able to make money off it, but now the clothing company is doing really well, It’s an online clothing store. I sell both Women & Men clothes from comfy to fancy.

I’ve always wanted to open my own store and I thought Vancouver would be perfect for that, most of my buyers are from canada.

I was born in Plymouth Michigan, i grew up in a lake house, my parent’s love it here, so do i, during winter my dad, my older brother and i would go skating on the lake, it’s one of my favorite things to do during the winter, during summertime we would go on boat rides almost every day. 

I went to the University of Michigan, I graduated in June, it was the best 3 and a half years, now I'm on a new chapter of my life. I 

I am still getting used to Vancouver. I don’t really know where everything is yet, it’s only been 5 days and i can work on my own time as long as i meet my deadlines, so i’ve been walking around Vancouver. It was a pretty chilly day but it wasn’t too bad. We are now at the end of April.

It took a while before moving here to look for an apartment, And to get everything settled since I’m American i needed to apply for a work visa, it took a while before i was accepted.

I finally found a cute coffee shop so I made my way inside and in line to order. I looked at the menu to see what I should order. Once I decided to go with (favorite coffee order) the line was shorter and it was only a cute guy in front of me and I.

When I finally ordered, I made my way to the pick up station. The cute guy got his drink before me and walked out. I got my drink a second later and left the coffee shot. I started walking back to my apartment since I still have some unpacking to do. 

I’m walking and looking around me, Vancouver is truly a beautiful city. I looked in front of me and saw the cute guy was going in the same direction. He looks familiar but I can't figure out why.

I saw him getting in the same apartment building I live in, maybe he lives there too. I made my way inside to see the elevator doors about to close. The guy looked up from his phone and saw I was walking that way, so he put his hand to stop the doors from closing.

I smiled as I walked in and stood next to him, to see he selected the same floor as I live on.

“Thanks for holding the door,” I said thankfully.

“No problem,” he said. He looked so serious like he didn’t have any emotion in the fact that i said thank you.

“I’m yn” i said

“Quinn” he replied before looking down at his phone.

He looked pretty tired, maybe that’s why he doesn’t seem to want to talk. But so am I, so I can't judge. 

The doors opened on our floor and we both started walking to our apartments. We are both going the same direction.

Once he stopped at his place, I stopped at mine which was the one next to him.

How have i not noticed him till today, since i’ve been here, it looked like no one lived there.

I saw him look at me before he opened the door. I looked at him as we made eye contact for a second. 

“See you around neighbor” i told him smiling before walking in my Apartment and closing the door behind me. 

I really hope I see him again. I smiled before continuing to unpack my stuff.

1 week later, May 2022

I finished packing my suitcase to bring back home with me. I was finally able to finish unpacking the furniture and everything else in this apartment so I thought I would finally go back home, since it’s warmer there right now then it is in Vancouver.

I made sure everything was turned off and made my way out of the apartment with my suitcase. As soon as I locked my door, Quinn opened his and got out with his suitcase. Looks like I'm not the only one who seems to be leaving Vancouver.

I made my way to the elevator and I saw him do the same. I made sure to wait before pressing the lobby button. 

“Thanks” he mumbled

“ no problem… Are you going to Vancouver?” I ask him, trying to make conversation.

He looked at me confused for a minute, before he shook his head. 

“Going to see friends and family” he replied 

“That’s always nice,” I say. All he did was nod, I guess he’s not one for conversation. 

We both got out of the elevator and made our way outside, i had ordered an uber so that I wouldn't have to wait. It looks like Quinn did the same thing. Once my suitcase was in the trunk the driver started making his way to the airport. 

I texted my parents to let them know I was on my way to the airport.

I got my bags checked in and made my way to my area. I found a spot where no one was sitting and sat down. My flight is only boarding in an hour but I like coming here earlier in case it’s ever busy.

I saw that my brother had texted me, he’s only 1 year older than me, he's 23 but he’s my best friend.

Big bro

Yo, are you on your way yet?

I chuckled, of course he’s impatient 

Me

Just got my bags checked in, we are only boarding the plane in an hour

Big bro

Please hurry, I miss you!

Big bro

Also before i forget, apparently the hughes brothers bought the lake house next to us that was for sale, i met one of them yesterday and some of his friends they all play pro hockey, one of the brothers plays for Vancouver, Jack said he should be getting in today & the ones i met are really cool, they’re around are age, so looks like we’ll have a fun summer🤪

Me

Oh good, at least it’s not another older couple who would complain every time we try to throw a party when mom and dad go away for the 4th of July😂 & wtf obviously i heard about then you idiot, kinda hard not to when we both went to a school where a bunch of hockey players went to. Also I met the youngest Luke at university, Nick introduced me to the freshman at the beginning of the year.

Big bro

I know right😂 oh cool then i guess you’ll know one of them! Anyways see you soon kid!

Me

See ya!

I smiled, hopefully I won't be stuck hanging out with a bunch of idiots the whole summer, but at least we aren’t the only ones our age.

I was scrolling through instagram. In the corner of my eye I saw someone sitting in one of the seats in front of me.

I looked up and saw Quinn, looking like he’s going to Michigan.

He looked up at me so I smiled.

When it was finally time to board the plane, I went and sat in my seat. I'm thankful that i got the window seat, a few seconds later Quinn sat down in the seat next to me.

“Looks like we’re both going to the same place” I said. 

He just nodded.

I looked back at him with a small smirk, I have a feeling that I’ll probably annoy him on the flight.

“You’re not much of a talker, are you?” I said teasing him, every time i try and talk to him, he looks like he ins’t interested in talking to me.

“Not really, do you need something from me? i’m not interested, okay, i get enough people trying to get with me just because of who i am i don’t need to have one who’s going to try the whole plane ride back to michigan” he said a little annoyed.

That was rude, why would he think I wanted anything from him… then it struck me that’s why he looked so familiar when i first met him. He’s the guy my brother told me about the brother who plays for Vancouver. He’s Quinn Hughes. He’s also Luke's older brother. How the hell did I not figure this out earlier? Luke told me that his oldest brother played for Vancouver, I just didn’t think he would be my neighbor and having him hate me.

Once I made the connection my eyes widened.

Quinn rolled his eyes.

“See you clearly know who i am, so just leave me alone” he said annoyed.

I scoffed.

“Don’t be so full of yourself, Luke’s my favorite anyways. I also didn’t recognize you until now, not everyone is going to recognize who you are. I’m also guessing you’re going to the lake house you and Jack just bought right?” I said. He’s pissing me off, and since he doesn’t know we are going to be neighbors or that I know Luke, I thought I would creep him out a little bit.

His eyes widened when I said that.

“Omg are you some kind of stalker?” He said in disgust.

I chuckled at his expression, he looks really creeped out right now.

“Not a stalker but according to my brother who met Jack yesterday we are about to be neighbor’s… again.” I said

“I’m sorry… what?”

“Oh My brother texted me earlier turns out you and jack bought the lake house right next to my parents house, looks like we’ll see each other a lot this summer” i said smirk 

I heard him curse under his breath.

“You better not go anywhere near our house,” he said.

“that’s funny because i can promise the second Luke sees me, he’s going to invite me over” 

“Like hell he is” he said laughing like there was no way that would ever happen.

“I don’t care if you guys play hockey, i’m going to go after you just because of fame or money. And Just so you know, I already know luke. I met him in September when he started at Michigan since I'm friends with Blanks. He's a good kid, i would help tutor him with calculus, i think of him as a little brother, same with the other younger guys. I even met your mom for fuck sakes and she was nicer than you are right now” i said, 

I could see a look of regret on his face. He sighed.

“Look i’m sorry okay, a lot of people try to get along just because of who I am , same with my brothers. Can we start over?” He asked.

He looked sincere, and I nodded, i know my brother will most likely hang out with them a lot this summer, so we should probably get along.

“I’d like that” i said  

He smiled 

“I’m quinn hughes, it’s nice to meet you” he said

“I’m Y/n Y/L/N, it’s nice to meet you too” i said.

We ended up getting to know each other for the rest of the flight. I told him about what I studied at university and what I do, along with a few funny stories about Luke and some of the other freshmen. He told me about hockey and his family. It was nice actually talking to him, and I really hope we can be friends since we are neighbors in Vancouver and now in Michigan.

Michigan 

When our flight landed we made our way out, and went to baggage claim.

I texted my brother to let him know, he said he was waiting with Jack and Luke since both Quinn and I were on the same flight.

“Looks like my brother is waiting with yours” I told Quinn as we started looking for them.

“I see Jack, come on,” he said. I followed him to our brothers

When my brother saw me, he pulled me in a hug, making me laugh.

“I miss you too Y/B/N” i said

“Y/N” Luke said when he saw me and pulled me in a hug.

“Hey Luke” I chuckle.

“You guys already know each other?” Jack asked, confused.

Luke let go of me and looked at jack.

“Yeah, she’s friends with blanks, he introduced us in the beginning of the year, she’s also the reason why i passed calculus, thanks for tutoring me by the way” he said 

“How did she tutor you if she lives in Vancouver?” Jack asked again, you could tell he was so lost, it was funny.

“I’ve only been living in Vancouver for 2 weeks now, i graduated from university of Michigan after Christmas” I said and he nodded.

“Oh make sense, and you’ve met quinn?” 

“Turns out we’re neighbors in Vancouver” quinn answered, i smiled at him.

Our brothers started laughing.

“What are the fucking chances” luke said

“Yeah seriously, now you’re also neighbors here” my brother said

“I know right,” I said.

“Let’s get going” quinn said impatient 

“Yeah, yeah let’s get grumpy,” Jack said.

Quinn rolled his eyes at him which made me laugh.

We made our way to the car and Jack drove us to the lake house.

Jack parked in his driveway and we all made our way to the trunk.

My brother took my suitcase before Jack turned to look at us.

“I don’t know what your plans are today, but we are having a bonfire tonight, you two are both welcome to join us” he said smiling.

“Thanks jack, that sounds fun” i said

My brother nodded.

“Yeah man we’ll be there” my brother said

“Great, then we’ll see you guys tonight”

“Blanks and a few other wolverines are here by the way, I won’t tell them, you’ll be able to surprise them” luke told me. I smiled and nodded before my brother and i made our way to our house.

As soon as we got in the house my parents hugged me.

I talked to them about Vancouver and how Quinn was my neighbor there and now here which made them laugh.

Then I went up to my room to unpack. By the time I was done it was 6:30 p.m. so I went to take a shower since I was all sweaty. Once I was done I got dressed in some Black Lululemon gym shorts and my blue Michigan hoodie.

My dad made food on the grill for dinner so I made my way down to eat since it’s already 7:30 and I am starting.

I sat down at the island counter on the chair and my mom gave me a plate. 

“Thanks mom,” I said smiling.

“No problem honey” she said, placing a kiss on my cheek.

“When you’re done eating we’ll go next door. Jack said they started the fire even though it’s still light out, and you can bring alcohol if you want or he said they have a lot so we should be good.” My brother told me.

“I think you still have some (favorite alcoholic drink) in the fridge from before you left for Vancouver, bring it with you if you go” my mom said before making her way to the living room with my dad.

I finished eating so I put my plate in the dishwasher and looked in the fridge for the drinks my mom was talking about and there were still 6 of them so I put them in a bag. My brother and I made our way next door. 

I saw Blanks was standing with his back to me talking with Luke. Luke saw me but I told him not to say anything. I gave my bag to my brother and ran up and jumped on his back.

“What the hell!” blanks screeched.

I laughed.

“Surprise!” I said before getting down.

“Yn?” He was surprised to see me. I nodded before he gave me a hug.

“I live next door '' I said happily, a big smile made its way on his face.

“This is about to be the best summer ever” he replied, making me laugh.

“Want to know what funny blanks she’s our neighbor here, and she’s quinn’s neighbor in Vancouver” Luke told him and i rolled my eyes, with a smile.

Nick let out a gasp.

“For real? Oh that’s awesome, like seriously what are the chances” he said

“I know right, also Luke, are you going to tell everyone?” I ask, chuckling.

Luke nodded, smiling.

“Everyone has to know” he said, like it’s the most obvious thing ever. He walked away leaving me alone with blanks.

“So, how is it like living next to Quinn?” He asked, smirking.

I rolled my eyes.

“Oh shut up” I replied, he laughed.

“No but seriously, how is it?”

“Fine i guess, he’s pretty quiet, but he kinda hated me until we got on the flight and sat next to each other, he thought i was some crazy fan” i said and nick burst out laughing i didn’t even know if he could breathe.

“What’s so funny?”

“Let me guess, you were nice and always tried to make conversation with him?” 

“Yeah…” I said and he shocked his head.

“That’s what a hockey player with think most of the time when a beautiful girl tries to talk to him and especially if you see him everywhere and end up on the same plane as him, he’s gonna think you’re following him, it’s just an instinct” nick said

“Yeah i know, but i really didn’t recognize him until after my brother told me about them buying the house next door to me and then accusing me of wanting something from him, then i saw the resemblance to Luke, so i kinda creeped him out a bit about telling him i knew exactly where he was going “ i said and nick chuckled.

“Of course you did… Quinn is a good guy though so i don’t doubt you guys won’t become friends… or maybe even more than friends” he said smirking.

I pushed him back.

“Oh shut up, let’s go see everyone else” I said, laughing.

We made our way to everyone else. Blanks introduced me to the guys. They all sound really nice.

We sat around the fire and drank, the guys were sharing funny stories. Nick told the story about how Quinn and I met. I put my hands on my face to hide the embarrassment. The guys laughed

“Seriously Quinn?” Luke asked 

“Look sorry but you never told me about her” Quinn replied.

We continued talking and sharing stories for the rest of the night. Some of the guys had already made their way inside to go to bed since it was late. My brother had gone back home, now it was only Quinn, blanks and i.

“I’m going to head up to bed before I pass out here” Blanks told us, making me chuckle.

“Good night blanks,” I said.

“Good night you two,” he said, smirking. I’ve known him for 4 years, he’s totally up to something.

“I should probably head to bed too, I don't want to be too tired tomorrow” I said, yawning.

Quinn turned to me and smiled.

“What?” I ask giggling.

“If I ask you on a date, would you say yes?” He asked, making me smile.

“I would,” I said blushing.

“Well, yn would you like to go on a date with me tomorrow night?” 

“ i would love to” i said smiling

“Perfect, I'll pick you up at 6:30 p.m.” he said and I smiled.

We said goodbyes and I made my way home.

Once I got into bed, I fell asleep with the biggest smile on my face.

September 2022

Going on that date with Quinn was the best decision I could have made. It went really well that we went on 3 more dates until he finally asked me to be his girlfriend.

We spent as much time as we could together this summer. When the guys found out we were dating they laughed since Luke had told everyone what happened when Quinn and I first met.

We have been in Vancouver for a little bit now, Quinn came back in August for training camp, i got back last week. I know how hockey season can be, but I also know Quinn and I will make it work. We’ll be seeing each other a lot since we are neighbors.

Quinn had practice this morning but he told me last night that he would come by after lunch.

He’s been stressed lately, he hopes he can have a better season than last year, i don’t blame him.

It’s now 12 p.m. when I heard the door open. 

“Babe, I'm here and I brought food,” I heard quinn. 

“I’m in the kitchen,” I replied. 

He made his way around the corner and smiled when he saw me.

“Hey beautiful” he said, making me blush.

He chuckled, he put the food on the counter and came over to me and kissed me. When we pulled away our forehead touched each other. I looked at his eyes to see he was doing the same. 

“I love you” I said happily.

“I love you more” he replied before leaning in and kissing me again.

Being with him, nothing could make me happier.

#nhl fic #nhl fluff #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #nhl blurbs #nhl blurb #nhl #hockey imagine #hockey blurb #hockey fic #hockey #umich imagine #umich blurbs #hockey fanfiction #quinn hughes #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes blurb #quinn hughes imagine #luke hughes #luke hughes blurb #nick blankenburg #jack hughes #trevor zegras

[wttcsms]

🏐 wttcsms written works, haikyuu ;

last updated feb 23, 2024

( 🏐 )  ⸺ 𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐔 𝐌𝐈𝐘𝐀  ✩ ✭

one shots & drabbles and i can't make you stay (in this broken place) — ( nsfw )  i sin too much to pray for you — no one can believe that one of the most powerful crime lords in the underground world of japan, atsumu miya, is wrapped around the finger of a naive girl like you, but love doesn’t really care about boundaries anyway. take care of you — ( nsfw ) atsumu just wants to give you everything he can offer: an easy job, a brand new car, a baby… wanting was enough (for me, it was enough) — ( sfw ) "He carries your confession home in the to-go box from the diner. It’s heavy, matching the American theme of burgers containing his weight in meat and fries slick with oil and grease. The two of you are walking together, and he wants to ask you, specifically, what did you mean when you told the team you liked me?" paper rings — ( sfw ) the tiffany blue ring box currently resides in the second drawer of his night stand, unceremoniously buried underneath several pairs of calvin klein briefs. when you know, you know — ( sfw ) atsumu considers marriage to be a trap, until he realizes that even a lifetime commitment to you isn’t long enough

headcanons & concepts ✩✮   : domesticity with atsumu — ( sfw ) ✩✮   : ex!atsumu seeing you're engaged to oikawa — ( sfw ) ✩✮   : how atsumu says i love you — ( sfw ) ✩✮   : atsumu and you having "non-dates" — ( sfw ) ✩✮   : atsumu's green flags — ( sfw ) ✩✮   : dating atsumu — ( sfw ) ✩✮   : dad!atsumu — ( sfw ) ✩✮   : mastermind inspired — ( sfw ) ✩✮   : atsumu randomly showing you his camera roll — ( sfw ) ✩✮   : in a world of boys, he's a gentleman — ( sfw ) ✩✮   : atsumu as a college interviewer tiktoker — ( sfw ) ✩✮   : husband atsumu using ur purse — ( sfw ) ✩✮   : you're the first person atsumu wants to tell anything to — ( sfw ) ✩✮   : the miya divide — ( sfw ) ✩✮   : girl dad atsumu — ( sfw )

multipart afterglow — ( nsfw ) finding out that his hot supermodel girlfriend is dumping him for some baseball player? that sucks. finding out via her red carpet debut with her new man as her plus one? sucks a bit more. having this happen to him the same day he just lost the last game of the season? yeah, it’s starting to feel like the universe has it out for him at this point, right? but atsumu miya is nothing if not petty, childish, and immature. he’ll get back at her. after all, there’s a secret dating app created by publicists and agents that pair up perfect matches for brightening up any celebrity’s public image. all atsumu has to do is pay a pretty sum of money to convince the media (and mainly his ex) that atsumu miya is still on top of the world and living his best life with the best (albeit, fake) girlfriend ever. unfortunately for him, his perfect match just so happens to be you — his first girlfriend, his highschool sweetheart turned sour, and the first girl who ever broke his heart. you know what they say: when it rains, it pours.

( 🏐 )  ⸺ 𝐓𝐎𝐎𝐑𝐔 𝐎𝐈𝐊𝐀𝐖𝐀  ✩ ✭

one shots & drabbles customer satisfaction — ( nsfw ) you go above and beyond for your customers...

headcanons & concepts ✩✮   : engaged to oikawa when atsumu's your ex (yikes) — ( sfw ) ✩✮   : ex husband!oikawa still in love with you — ( sfw ) ✩✮   : ice skating au — ( sfw ) ✩✮   : royal au — ( sfw ) ✩✮   : learning about the tradition of giving the first slice of cake to who you love the most — ( sfw )

multipart forever golden — ( nsfw ) everything is going fine: you just graduated with your first degree, you get to work alongside your older brother for the 2021 olympics, and you think now might be the perfect time to finally jumpstart your dating life (atsumu miya certainly seems cute...). there's no time for you to think about torn acls, shattered dreams, and the fact that this was never your original goal in life. and there's certainly no time for you to worry about tooru oikawa, the boy who practically grew up in your house now turned into the man who poses as your team's fiercest competitor. you definitely don't have the free time to remember how he's the first boy who ever had (and subsequently broke) your heart. or that the two of you went from practically joined at the hip to total strangers for the past four years. you don't even bother wondering why he suddenly wants to repair the broken bond between you two, and you totally don't give in to him (except for the times that you do... which is almost all the time).  yeah. everything is going fine.

( 🏐 )  ⸺ 𝐊𝐈𝐘𝐎𝐎𝐌𝐈 𝐒𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐒𝐀  ✩ ✭

one shots & drabbles rapture — ( nsfw ) his tenacity and stamina prove to be a deadly combination indeed. you know you make my cold heart warm with a touch — ( nsfw ) how else can kiyoomi show you how close to his heart he keeps you than by fucking into you so deep, you’re pretty sure you can feel him reaching for yours?

headcanons & concepts ✩✮   : how kiyoomi says i love you — ( sfw )

( 🏐 )  ⸺ 𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐈𝐎 𝐊𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐘𝐀𝐌𝐀  ✩ ✭

one shots & drabbles as the world caves in — ( sfw ) they say your life flashes before your eyes when you die. if that’s the case, then that explains why kageyama only sees you.

headcanons & concepts ✩✮   :  kags' act of service — ( sfw ) ✩✮   : tobio craves your attention — ( sfw ) ✩✮   : vampire hunter!reader x vampire!kags — ( sfw ) ✩✮   : he responds to all your texts individually — ( sfw )

( 🏐 )  ⸺ 𝐇𝐀𝐉𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐙𝐔𝐌𝐈  ✩ ✭

headcanons & concepts ✩✮   : domesticity with iwaizumi — ( sfw ) ✩✮   : shoujo concept with iwaizumi — ( sfw )

( 🏐 )  ⸺ 𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐀  ✩ ✭

one shots & drabbles it's the same damn thing that made my heart surrender — ( sfw ) you never do get over your first love. / you fell first, he fell harder.

headcanons & concepts ✩✮   : domesticity with suna — ( sfw )

( 🏐 )  ⸺ 𝐖𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐉𝐈𝐌𝐀  ✩ ✭

headcanons & concepts ✩✮   : marriage of convenience with ushi — ( sfw ) ✩✮   : underground fighter ushi — ( sfw )

( 🏐 )  ⸺ 𝐓𝐄𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐎𝐔 𝐊𝐔𝐑𝐎𝐎  ✩ ✭

one shots & drabbles in every universe, it's still you — ( sfw ) in all the universes, in all the different versions of you and kuroo, you’re certain of two things: that he’s always a good person, and that you love him.

headcanons & concepts ✩✮   : fake dating au — ( sfw ) ✩✮   : business school academic rivals to lovers — ( sfw ) ✩✮   : kuroo tweet — ( sfw ) ✩✮   : dad!kuroo is the best — ( sfw ) ✩✮   : single!mom reader x kuroo office romance — ( sfw )

multipart get him back! — ( nsfw ) so, in an attempt to get back at your ex - who posted a sex tape of himself cheating on you with your best friend - you decide that you’re going to upload your own film, and it’s going to be even hotter than theirs. you don’t anticipate your class’s teaching assistant being your co-star, especially considering that he’s the one who took your virginity, and after all was said and done, you ran out on him. but there’s no running from him now, especially whenever your tape does better than expected. now, you’re one of the hottest up and coming content creators on the platform, and the cash is too good to let this opportunity go to waste. what starts as a petty revenge scheme results in a lucrative business partnership with three simple rules: profits are split 50/50, all videos remain faceless, and this newfound partnership means absolutely nothing. just because you two fuck on a daily basis does not mean you’re friends, and you’re certainly not lovers. then again, things hardly ever are that simple.

( 🏐 )  ⸺ 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐄 𝐊𝐈𝐓𝐀  ✩ ✭

one shots & drabbles paper rings — ( sfw ) shinsuke kita is a creature of habit.

headcanons & concepts ✩✮   : influencer!reader x kita — ( sfw )

( 🏐 )  ⸺ 𝐎𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐔 𝐌𝐈𝐘𝐀  ✩ ✭

one shots & drabbles xoxo — ( nsfw ) just thinking about recreating the infamous maison margiela kiss button-down shirt for your boyfriend osamu

headcanons & concepts ✩✮   : the miya divide — ( sfw )

( 🏐 )  ⸺ 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐉𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐈  ✩ ✭

one shots & drabbles everything's blurry but you — ( sfw ) barely in your baby twenties, and you think life is so over for you. then, while at rock bottom, you run into futakuchi, and realize that 1) he’s kinda pathetic, and 2) someone else’s pathetic-ness totally distracts you from your own. so, guess you two are in it together.

#wttcsms masterlist #masterlist #haikyuu x reader

[nyxlaufeyson]

Quite Alright

Winter Masterlist - Loki Oneshot Masterlist - Main Masterlist

POV: Second

Ship: Loki x Reader

Type: Fluff

Wordcount: 1,581

Prompt: "Ice Skating"

Synopsis: You teach Loki how to ice skate.

When Stark announced to the team that they were going ice skating, Loki wasn’t sure what to think of it. He could understand what it must mean, but what he couldn’t fathom was why one would want to skate on ice. Wouldn’t that just result in injury?

He swept it to the back of his mind, since he had better things he had needed to do at the time. However, now that they were standing outside of the ice skating rink Tony had rented out for them, Loki wished that he had put a little more effort into figuring out what ice skating was and how to do it. He certainly didn’t want to be made a fool in front of the Avengers.

It couldn’t be that different from dancing, Loki figured, and he was quite good at that. He would simply observe some of the others go onto the ice first before doing so himself. Surely, how hard could it be?

You walked beside him, clearly excited for the expedition. As soon as you entered the doors, a chill nipped at your skin. It wasn’t anything too bad, considering you were wearing a sweater, but it was still noticeable. Loki, on the other hand, barely felt a thing. If anything, he felt more comfortable in the chill given his genetics.

All of you checked out pairs of skates-and these were brand new skates, too, so you didn’t have to worry about foot fungus, thanks to Tony-and made your way to the benches right outside of the ice rink.

“Are you excited?” You asked him, and he feigned a small smile and gave a nod. You narrowed your eyes at him. “Wait a minute. Have you ever been ice skating?”

He thought about lying, but he opted for telling the truth. “No, I have not.” He said, tying the laces to the skates. “But I have no doubt it will go smoothly.” 

You chuckled. “You say that now, mischief, but when you get on that ice you might change your mind. Lucky for you, I happen to practically be an expert. I’ve gone ice skating lots of times.” You finished putting on your shoes, standing up. “Although, granted, it has been a while. But muscle memory, all that jazz.”

Loki stood up to the best of his ability with the skates, and met you where you were standing on the entrance to the ice. He used the railing to help support himself. 

You stepped up onto the ice, wobbling at first until you managed to balance yourself. Some of the other Avengers were already on the ice, while some opted for watching before trying it out for themselves. He watched you do a lap around the rink to get your bearings back. 

After the lap, you circled back around to him. “You ready?” You asked him, and he hesitantly nodded and stepped onto the ice. Immediately, he lost his balance and nearly fell face-flat on the ice. Fortunately, he managed to grab ahold of the railing to steady himself. 

“Norns!” He cursed, surprised at how unstable the skates on the ice were. He may be a frost giant, but that didn’t help him balance on the ice with a small piece of metal lifting his feet off the ground. “How do you people do this without sustaining significant injuries?”

You giggled at his struggles, waving a hand. “Oh, we do. My friend actually sprained her ankle ice skating once. It must have been bad, because she was in a wheelchair for like a month. I had to push her around and everything.”

Loki widened his eyes, and you sensed you hadn’t said the right thing. “Of course, it’s preventable and I’m totally sure it won’t happen to you here today.”

This didn’t seem to calm him down a whole lot, but you didn’t really know what else to say. Maybe telling people stories of bad things that happened doing something while they were doing said activity wasn’t a great idea.

“Just… Follow my lead, okay?” You said, and he nodded after a second of contemplation.  “So, the first step is learning how to glide. You alternate between lifting one foot and another until you’re comfortable.” 

You gave him a little demonstration, and motioned for him to do it. He carefully tried the motions, still holding onto the railing. 

Smiling, you have a little clap. “Exactly! Now, while you’re gliding, the next step is to lift one foot, set it back down, and lift the other. Then you just repeat the process.” 

Since he had to come off of the railing, you gently took his arm to help steady himself. He thought about declining your help, but he was too worried he would end up falling without it, so he let you.

He tried out what you said to do, and he managed to do it. Unfortunately, when you let him go, he fell on his ass. His face turned red, but you just laughed and offered him a hand up. 

You recognized that he was embarrassed, so you offered consolation. “Falling is normal, especially when first learning.” Thor grunted nearby, and you gestured to him on the ground. “See? Point made.” 

Loki took your hand, hoisting himself up. He was still slightly embarrassed, but felt better after seeing his brother take a much more insulting fall. 

“Now, if you move your feet like this,” you moved your feet in an oval in-and-out motion, “you can move ahead on the ice without lifting your feet.”

He did the swizzles rather well, and you smiled. “Perfect. Now that I’ve taught you some of the motions, you need to know how to stop. Watch and learn.” 

First, you ‘stopped’ without being in motion in the first place, just to show him what it looked like. You stood with your feet together, then pushed them apart while skating forward, finally sticking one out sideways and bringing you to a stop. You then got some traction going to show him what it looked like in motion.

You had him practice at a standstill, and after he got that you let him do it after skating a short distance. He did fine, and you grinned at your teaching skills.

“Want to go around the rink now?” You asked, and Loki looked around, clearly skeptical to do so. You offered your hand. “Here, I’ll hold your hand if that will make you feel more stable. Can’t guarantee I can stop you if you start to fall, but I can try nonetheless.”

You didn’t quite understand how intimate an offer like that was to Loki. Like before, he considered declining, but some part of him wanted to hold your hand. So, he took it gently.

Once his hand was in yours, you became aware of the intimacy and blushed. Holding hands while skating was something you had seen couples do countless times, yet it was never something you had experienced. Of course, Loki was not your significant other, but he was your friend. And, you would be lying if you said you didn’t wish to become more than that. 

Loki cleared his throat, and you embarrassedly realized you had zoned out. “Sorry. Got distracted.” You said, very quickly glancing at your hands. “Ready?” 

He nodded, and you both set off to skate. You skated up to and past other Avengers, all of who seemed to be having a good time. None of them noticed you and Loki holding hands. Or, at least, nobody said anything. 

It was a friendly gesture, anyway, even if the both of you wished it was not.

All went well, and you had circled the rink a few times until you met your first hiccup. Tony wasn’t going in the general direction that everyone else was going, and ended up cutting you off. To avoid hitting him, you and Loki had to veer to the right. Unfortunately, in doing so, you lost your balance.

You stumbled, falling, bringing Loki down as well. You sprawled your hands out to try to break your fall, but you didn’t meet the ice. Instead, you found yourself on top of Loki, who had broken your fall. 

Startled, you asked, “are you okay?” He nodded, not seeming to be in any significant pain.

“I used magic at the last second to cushion me. Are you alright as well?” You nodded. Now that it was clear the both of you were physically in check, you became aware of your position.

His eyes glanced at your lips. Your eyes glanced at his lips. You both looked back up at one another’s eyes. The tension was too much to bear, and you slowly lowered your lips down to his, giving him enough time to push you away.

He didn’t push you away, and welcomed your lips with enthusiasm. The kiss was cold, but when his tongue ran over your lips it brought about a certain warmth. 

When it was over, you opened your eyes and realized Tony was standing right beside the two of you on the ground.

He looked to be in a state between shock and discomfort. “Well, I was going to ask if you both were alright, but…” 

Loki flashed Tony a grin, wrapping his arm around your waist. “Oh, I can assure you Stark, that we are quite alright.” 

You chuckled into his chest until you both had to get up so you weren’t run over by the others.

TAGS: (Comment or inbox me to be added/removed; along with what to be tagged for): @michief-dream @iceeericeee

#loki #loki fanfic #marvel #loki fluff #loki friggason #loki laufeyson #loki oneshot #loki x reader #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki x yn #loki fanfiction #loki odinson #loki/reader #loki/you

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader [1.4k] fluff, first dates and roller-skating.

It was three minutes to seven in the evening, the sky outside bubblegum pink and tangerine. Summer in Hawkins brought marshmallow clouds, fireflies, the smell of campfires and s’mores. 

Seven o’clock brought the rumble of a car engine, butterflies in your stomach and the crunch of gravel as Steve pulled up outside your house. You barely heard your mom’s response as you yelled out that you were leaving, that you’d be home later, before the door slammed shut and you were flying down the driveway. 

If there was a skip in your step, a lightness in your feet, you would have denied it to anyone else who asked. But you couldn’t hide the grin that lit up your face at the sight of the boy. 

He was watching you from the open car window, a small smile on his lips that grew as you neared and he was lit up by the glow of the sun, the scattered light that hid behind the tree branches. 

It all felt too much, like lemonade bubbles in your tummy, first kisses, last dances, the touch of a hand trailing up your bare thigh, skimming over places no one had seen before. It was brand new, it was entirely unexpected.  

If anyone had told you that you’re going out with Steve Harrington, you would’ve called them a liar. 

Honestly, you weren’t even sure if it was a date. Fighting monsters and demons and saving each other’s lives over the summer had brought you closer to the boy than you ever thought was possible - but you guessed that trauma and nightmare inducing moments in another dimension would do that to a friendship. 

You hadn’t really thought much of it when he asked, mumbling something about the roller rink one night, his eyes on his steering wheel as he dropped you home after work. You’d nodded, a small but confused smile on your face, and if it hadn't been for Dustin and Lucas grinning and exchanging rushed whispers from the back seat, you wouldn’t have assumed it was anything different from any other babysitting night out. 

But this time his car was empty of kids and Steve's eyes were bright as they watched you climb into the car, cheeks a little flushed. A strand of hair had fallen into his eyes as he set you with a gaze, fingers flexing on the steering wheel and there was something in the air that made everything feel electric. 

Your skin was buzzing, nerves tumbling over you in the best way and you watched how the boy's breath hitched and caught in his throat as you smoothed your skirt over your bare legs, material falling over your thighs. 

“Hey,” you finally managed to say, voice shy and soft, and you grinned at how silly it all suddenly seemed. 

This was Steve, the boy that had run across Hawkins with you all summer, hand clasped around your own as he pulled you into his side, out of danger, into safety. You’d followed him into the darkest depths of a lake, went to war with him, cried with him, opened your bedroom window and your arms to him in the early hours of the morning. 

But he was looking at you a little differently, now that the threat of something dangerous wasn’t lurking over both of your shoulders, in the back of your minds. 

His eyes were soft, bright, happy, like the summer night outside. 

“Hi,” he greeted in response and there was something about the sound of his voice that made you melt into the seat a little. 

Steve took a deep breath as he let his eyes roam over you, eyes still a little shy but he didn’t try to hide the way his lips twisted into a smile, the pink tint that flushed over the planes of his cheeks. He was a far cry from King Steve of Hawkins High and you didn’t think you could’ve loved it more. 

He thumbed at the edge of your skirt, a light material that shifted easily under his touch and your chest burned when he grazed the skin above your knee. 

“This is pretty,” Steve murmured and his eyes flicked up to meet yours, “you look really pretty.”

And god, this was really starting to feel like a date. 

The drive into town was quiet and quick, the sound of the radio filled the car, static buzzing gently between each song and you didn’t say much, nerves tumbling over in your tummy. But, every now and then, you’d catch Steve’s eye and you both grinned, bright and wide and real and laughter would break the tension. 

It made the air feel thick and heavy, just like the summer heat but god, it was intoxicating, all consuming and you never wanted that feeling to end. You could feel his gaze on you at every stop sign, every red light and you knew he was just as nervous as you felt. 

It made you feel better, it made you feel proud, pretty, powerful. Shit, it made you feel like a teenager again, lovesick and messy with your first crush. 

You watched him with a bitten back smile when he pulled into the parking lot and jogged around to your side of the car to open the door for you. He smelled like cedar and mint as you stepped out and into his space, almost chest to chest and suddenly everything felt a little more real as he looked down at you. 

That same smile was on Steve’s face, soft and warm and it made you feel giddy, too warm. He tilted his head to the doors, the whole front of the building lit up in lights and neon. 

“Wanna head in?” 

You nodded and had absolutely no idea what to do with your hands. Did you hold his? Did he want to? 

It felt torturous to walk into the roller rink, the backs of your hands brushing against Steve’s, fingers brushing but neither of you made any move to take the others. You felt like a school kid again, nerves jittering and after taking a side look at the boy’s profile, you could see he was chewing on the edge of his lip, looking just as conflicted as you felt. 

Fuck. 

You let Steve pay at the desk after he set you with a look that told you no arguments and some of the tension cracked and fell away when you rolled your eyes and nudged your shoulder into his bicep as thanks. He grinned at the contact, bright and brilliant and the world stopped when he placed his palm on the small of your back, gently leading you over to the lockers and benches. 

The hall was lit with tiny lights, bubblegum pink and aquamarine, a disco ball spinning in the middle that sent reflections scattered across the floors and walls. It smelled like cotton candy, popcorn and artificial cherries, like childhood and everything safe. 

You whispered to each other as you pulled off your shoes, tying the roller skates to your feet and laughing at the sparkly wheels on Steve’s. He was pressed into your side on the bench, his head bent to yours as he mumbled something about pulling off any look. 

You were still in Hawkins, still in the same dimension, the real world, but god, you couldn’t help but feel like this was a little bit of magic. Steve was warm and solid against you and when he stood up and looked back down at you, it felt cosmic. 

He held out a hand, a half smile on his lips that betrayed how confident he was acting. 

“If I pretend I don’t know how to skate, will you hold my hand?” He asked you, all false bravado and flirt as he tucked his bottom lip between his teeth. 

You looked up at him, eyes sparkling and cheeks sore from smiling, “you wanna hold my hand, Harrington?”

He huffed out a laugh at your teasing, a grin on his face and you could’ve sworn he was blushing, that it wasn’t just the lights that were glittering across his face. 

Steve eyed you, one brow lifted, “don’t act as if you don’t wanna.”

You slipped your hand into his, his palm rough and warm and you could still feel the outlines of the scars he had there, the marks and scratches he bore from keeping everyone safe. 

Your breath hitched, your face flushed warm and when Steve tangled his fingers between your own, the lights suddenly seemed brighter, the air electric. 

It felt familiar, it felt brand new, it felt like something you could get used to and Steve was looking at you in a way that made you think you wouldn’t have any other choice. 

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fic #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things #steve harrington fluff #stranger things fic