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#zero spirit in those words
deeva-arud · 4 months
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Deeva Årud - Club Wear Voice Lines
When Summoned: Lights dimmed, tension building up… Are you ready to feel our rhythm? Summon Line: Playing music with friends is fun, I’m glad to be here even though I’m starting to feel a bit nervous.
Groooovy!!: We’d be delighted to see you at our next show. Spotting a familiar face among the crowd is always nice. Home: “Let’s rock and roll”, as some would say. Home Idle 1: I joined the Pop Music Club on my second year. Perhaps it’s quite a drastic change from my previous club but… it’d be a lie to say I’m not enjoying my time here. Home Idle 2: Most of the time I’m the one suggesting we should practice, but somehow Lilia, Cater and Kalim always distract me with all these unknown snacks and gadgets. Sometimes I have the feeling they do it on purpose… Home Idle 3: I need to warm my hands, it’s hard playing an instrument when they’re cold. Home Idle – Login: *humming Piece of My World* Ah- sorry, I didn’t see you there. Can I help you with something? Home Idle – Groovy: I’ve been playing violin and other instruments since I was a kid. My family has always had a connection with music and I’ll gladly continue this legacy. Conveying your thoughts and feelings through sounds is quite satisfactory. Home Tap 1: My first concert with them? Since it was the first time I’d be playing in front of many people, I knew I’d have a hard time trying to look at the audience. Cater noticed and told me to look at him so I could feel less overwhelmed… Let’s say I didn’t expect him to be so literal. His clones substituted the audience because no one came to see us. Home Tap 2: Hm, my violin? Indeed, it’s not the same one I use at Mostro Lounge. An electric violin is more suitable for the club’s activities. I’m surprised you noticed it. That means someone’s been paying too much attention to the musician playing ambience music… That was a joke. Home Tap 3: Kalim and I joined the club in the same year so I got to see how much he’s improved his drumming technique. It’s impressive. Certainly, Lilia’s been an excellent teacher to him. Home Tap 4: I like the idea of having customized masks for our performances. Maybe I should mention it once we have enough funds. Home Tap 5: I recently accepted to do some vocals just for our club sessions. You can come see us, but please refrain from telling everyone else. At the moment, I only feel comfortable singing for a few people. Home Tap – Groovy: When it comes to a band like this many wouldn’t think of a violinist, but that actually gives songs an interesting feeling, don’t you think? Duo: [DEEVA]: Ready for a shocking performance, Cater? [CATER]: Ready as ever, Dee-chan!
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literaila · 3 months
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one in the morning
gojo satoru x fem!reader
summary:
"satoru. where did you get these kids?"
warnings: slight angst, awkward child rearing, a bit of arguing, and pining (of course), slightly ooc gojo
a/n: because i am a sucker for little megumi
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*
year zero. year one.
it's not that you're not expecting the call. except that you're not. 
like not even a little bit. an asteroid coming down and destroying only you and your apartment building is slightly more likely than satoru gojo calling you in the middle of the night, like he hasn't done in the last six months. 
the last year, really.
a year ago you would've known who it was immediately and probably would've cursed satoru out for calling you at three in the morning to see if you wanted to go get ice cream with him (and then you would've gotten up and put on your shoes to find him outside of your room, already grinning). 
but now you have to check the caller id. 
you blink around in the dark--struggling through the dregs of dream you're still waking through--and sigh. 
unfortunately, you've never had quite enough willpower to ignore this phone call. shoko has called you an idiot many times--too many times, actually--telling you that satoru's attention-seeking habits are not your responsibility. not that she's had to say that in a while, though... and it's not like you're going to sneak out in the middle of the night with him anymore--you can't sneak out. you have your own house. there’s no yaga to look down on you disapprovingly here. 
and he hasn't called you in six months. you haven't even heard about him beyond some irritated remarks from yaga, and shoko's knowing glances when you try to nonchalantly bring him up.
and still. 
it takes you a moment to pick up the phone, your thumb hitting the answer button before your mind can stop you. 
"satoru?" you whisper, listening to the breathing on the other end. 
there's some muffled moving around, and then a breath, and then someone in the background speaking, and then-- 
"i need your help." his voice is quiet like he doesn't want anyone to hear what he's saying. 
what time is it? have you ever heard satoru say those words before? 
your first thought is that he's on another mission. that there's a cursed spirit and he needs some assistance. but when has satoru gojo asked anyone for help with a cursed spirit? when has he ever needed it? suguru was typically there to keep him from-- 
you pause, sitting up in bed. this might be a nightmare, but usually, you're more accustomed to them. "where are you?" you ask him, speaking in the same soft voice. 
you expect him to name off some city, some house, some country that you couldn't possibly get to. you expect him to crack a joke, say something to you about being lost without him, or laugh at how serious your voice sounds. but he only murmurs, "at your door." 
like it isn't a completely crazy thing to say. how does he even know where you live? 
"it's one in the morning," you say, frowning. some small part of you wants him to actually be there, expecting a knock to come from the void of your hallway. and the other, much bigger part, thank you, wants him to be joking. 
"i know," he sighs, and the receiver is muffled again, and then, "can you open it?" 
"what's going on?" 
"please," he repeats. there's no joke to this. this is not satoru asking you if you want to go get donuts at six in the morning, or milkshakes at midnight. "i'll explain. i just need your help." 
you bite back some remark about how he hasn't needed your help for the past year. about how he hasn't called, hasn't texted, and hasn't even asked about you since-- 
but you stand up, trying to untangle a knot in your hair. you hang up on him without answering. your heart gets a bit of satisfaction from that. 
and go to your door, giving yourself two seconds to prepare for the real-life satoru in front of your face. blue-everything eyes, you think, wall white hair, and a stupid smile. 
but when you open it, your eyes drift to his (sort of) like they're already sure of where exactly he might be, it isn't just him. 
there's a little boy--as tall as satoru's waist, with dark hair and furrowed brows to match--standing in front of another little girl--the same dark hair, but blank face--glaring up at satoru like he's kidnapped both of them. 
your eyes widen as you realize that he probably has. 
"this is basically every kid's dream," he's telling this boy, his playful voice like they’ve known each other for years. "i got you candy and i'm letting you stay up late. why aren't you normal?" 
"why aren't you?" this boy retorts, and his voice is hard. unreasonably sarcastic for such a small person. it might make you giggle, the obvious tension between the two of them, if you weren't so worried about these kids' poor parents, freaking out at their disappearance. 
the little girl is the first to notice you there, and she waves, her face much softer, much more exhausted than the boys in front of her. but she doesn't look frightened; not concerned with wherever this strange man has taken the two of them. 
and satoru looks up at the motion, his mouth turning as he looks at you. 
the little boy frowns, but his eyes settle. there's a brief moment where he watches you and you think that he's about to start begging for your help, but then it's gone. and his eyes trail back to satoru, still angry. 
you blink, swallowing at the three of them. this is not ice cream.
"satoru," you get out, eventually. "where did you get these kids?" 
*
"okay," you set a glass of water on the coffee table, trying to put on a normal smile. your hands are shaking, so you tuck them under your sleeves. "i'm sorry i don't have a lot of extra blankets, but if you get cold i'll go look through some boxes and see what i can find." 
it's been ten minutes with them inside your apartment, and you already feel like you're doing something wrong. satoru, obviously, just briefly introduced the two of them to you, before you grabbed his arm and dragged him--along with the kids that trailed behind--into your apartment. 
you'd hissed at him about how it was cold, and one in the morning, and they needed to be asleep. he only smiled and asked how you were. 
so now they're cuddled up on your couch, with your only spare blanket, both of them with dreary eyes. you're trying not to look too closely--to check if they've been crying, or if they're harmed in any sort of way.
the little boy--megumi--nods and tsumiki smiles at you. 
how four little eyes can look so appreciative, you're not sure.
satoru is leaning against the wall behind you, watching you move around these children like it's normal, and you have to bite your tongue to keep from screaming at him.
"is there anything else you need?" you ask them, trying to be softer than you are. you should’ve taken that babysitting job when you were twelve; you’re completely out of your depth here.
megumi shakes his head. 
"no, we're good," tsumiki says. 
and you seriously want to get them to a hospital. where did they come from? why does satoru have them? is he insane? are they insane? have you just dreamt this all up?
"okay, satoru and i are just going to go talk in the kitchen for a bit. come get me if you need anything." and you smile again, taking a couple of hesitant steps as they both look away from you to the show that tsumiki put on when you handed her the remote. 
at least they're not outside anymore.
you drag satoru into the kitchen, thinking about knocking the wind right out of him. he's always been particularly punchable, but right now he's even more so. 
and he's smiling adoringly at you. 
“satoru," you grind out, trying to keep your voice down. he leans against your countertop, crossing his legs. 
and he hums inquisitively. “you know, i don’t think megumi likes me very much.” 
“satoru.” 
“not sure…" he scratches his head, white hair falling over his sunglasses. "i mean he’s kind of a weird kid but still. i took them to the store to pick out anything they wanted and neither of them got anything. even when i showed them the different cakes they had in the bakery. there were matcha rolls today, too. do you think they’re robots or something?” 
“satoru. where did you get those children?” your voice is a step away from furious. 
why is he here right now? why does he just barge into your life at unprecedented moments, acting like nothing has changed between the two of you? 
acting like you haven't missed the sound of his voice or the way he speaks with his hands, or how he's standing right next to you, warmth radiating off of him like a toxin. 
“is that important right now?” he asks. “we’re talking about their spending habits.” 
“i’m talking about you. tell me that you didn’t steal them from the park and that i’m not obligated to report you.” 
“are you serious?" he shakes his head at you, his voice still teasing, calm as ever. "you think i’d just take some random kids home with me?” 
“i don’t know!" you tell him, finally breaking--your voice is raised, and you almost don't notice. "i don’t even know how you got here, or where you’ve been in the past six months, or whose children those are because they are certainly not yours.” 
he pouts. “you don’t think they look like me?” 
“you’re too pale.” 
“that’s rude, you—“ 
“whose kids are they? now, satoru.” 
you hope your face looks intimidating, but honestly, your demand is more like a suggestion when it comes to satoru. he can listen or he can leave. 
you don't know which one you want more. 
there’s a beat of silence where he rubs his foot on the ground, messing up your tiled floors probably. and then he sighs, relenting. “…toji zenin’s.”
he could’ve said anything else and you wouldn’t even care. oh, he found those kids abandoned in a warehouse on a mission? cool. oh, he found some long-lost cousins? great. if it were anything else, you would've waved him off and told him that he needed to get them new clothes, or something. 
but this? 
“what?!” 
“shh. you’re the one who said they need to sleep," he tries to look around the corner of your hallway, even though you both know he doesn't need to.
you’re gawking at him, but, really, can it be helped?
“toji zenin?!”
“well technically fushiguro according to the records i dug up. but zenin nonetheless...” 
“you stole his kids?!” 
“i didn’t steal—“ 
“he tries to kill you so you kill him instead and take his children hostage?!” 
this would be a wonderful moment to wake up.
satoru waves this statement off, frowning. “you’re really brushing over the ‘tried to kill me’ part. what? you don’t care about me?” 
“why do you have them, satoru? what are you planning to do? torture them for information?" your eyes are wide and your heart is panicked. "they’re kids—“ 
he scowls. “of course not.” 
“then what? tell me everything, starting from when toji tried to kill you.” 
“why do you automatically think i did something?" he complains. "it’s not like i asked zenin to kill me first. i didn’t bait him into slicing my throat open.”
“because you always start the problems.” 
“not true. sometimes i solve them, and sometimes i—“ 
“how did you find out about them?” 
he sighs. “he told me about megumi, before he, ya know,” and then he makes a motion across his neck. and a terrible noise that supposedly indicates death. 
you don't even mock him for it “why?” you ask. 
“megumi might inherit the zenin technique. he’s worth a lot to the zenin clan, and i guess that toji made a deal with them.” 
“you guess?” 
“well, it’s not like i had a whole lot of time between the resurrection and murdering thing to ask him. i didn’t invite the guy out for tea so he could tell me about his pride and joy," his voice is riddled with sarcasm, so you can't decide if he's joking or not. 
he is the most infuriating person you've ever met. 
“so what? he asked you to keep megumi away from them?”
“no, he didn’t seem the sentimental type. maybe he told me cause he didn’t want megumi to grow up there, or maybe he told me so i could claim the prize money for myself.” he shrugs. “it doesn’t matter.” 
you glare at him. “oh, it doesn’t?”
“no. i asked megumi what he wanted and this was it. he doesn’t want to live there and leave tsumiki behind, or have her live in that misogynistic shithole.” 
“how old is he?” 
satoru almost winces. "uh, six?”
“you don’t even know how old he is?” you close your eyes, shaking your head. 
“he’s in first grade! we haven’t gone through all of the basics yet.” 
“and tsumiki?” 
“…nine.” 
“satoru.” 
“i’ll figure it out. megumi acts like he’s fifty years old anyway, so what do i care?” 
you can practically see him rolling his eyes. 
“what do you care?" you repeat, mocking. "you just told me that megumi made this decision for himself. he's a kid. he probably doesn’t understand—“ 
“he understands that if he goes to the zenin clan his sister will suffer in whatever way they deem fit. i mean, you know what it’s like for girls there—especially without any cursed energy.” 
“you cant just make this decision for them on a whim, satoru. have you thought any of it through? where are they going to stay? who’s going to watch them when you’re sent away? where are they going to go to school? what if megumi does inherit his cursed technique?” 
“all of that doesn’t matter. i'll figure it out," he waves off the topic of their lives like it's a mere suggestion, "what matters is that i keep those kids from being subjected to a life of servitude and competition. that they get to be kids while they can.” 
you swallow. is there a way not to be frightened by this? “i know—i know where you’re coming from," you give him a weak smile, trying not to yell, or fight, or question this so much that satoru shuts down. "it’s nice of you to be… worried about them. but this isn’t like taking in a lost kitten, satoru. these are children.” 
“do you really feel the need to point that out?” 
“yes. what do you know about kids?” 
he smiles, wide. “nothing!” he exclaims. “that’s why i came here. and you’re already doing a great job.” 
you frown. “what do i know about kids?” 
“well, you like them, don’t you?” 
“what?” 
“when we went to that daycare center during second year you played with all of the kids. you like them," he nods as if affirming it himself. 
you went to a daycare with satoru once to take care of a grade three curse and apparently, it's led him to insanity. 
“you’re comparing my hide-and-seek skills to taking care of those two kids on my own?"
“i mean, i’ll be here too...” 
“taking care of three children on my own?” you correct. 
satoru pouts. 
you think about what suguru told you after riko amanai died; about satoru and the shift within him. some sort of manic strength he hasn't uttered a word about since. 
but you continue, swallowing. "what's this really about?" you ask, softly, trying not to be mad, or worried, or concerned about why he came here to you. "it's not like you to... take responsibility for something you're not responsible for." 
his pout turns into a frown. you can see his brows furrow. "you don't think i'm capable of helping people?" 
"i know you're capable. but why? why now? i mean, it's been a year since toji died, and you're just getting them now? you suddenly remembered what he said to you?" 
"i had to figure out the logistics of toji's deal." 
"okay," you shake your head, "but still. why not have a family take them in? find someone who can give them a relatively normal life before they're pushed into all of this?" 
satoru's face is blank. "no. what happens when megumi is eight and his new 'parents' put him in a hospital because he's seeing things that they can't?" 
for the first time since he's walked through your front door, he sounds almost serious.
"i--" 
"what happens when they're afraid of him because he draws in cursed energy? when his 'family' rejects him like yours did? like suguru's did?" 
"satoru." 
"honestly, do you think that's any better?" he gestures to your living room, to the kids he's proclaimed responsibility for. "if he does inherit his technique then the zenin clan will go looking for him anyway, and he won't be able to protect himself because there was no one to teach him how. no matter where he goes he's going to be ripped away from tsumiki, who seems to be the only thing he actually cares about. he didn't even want to know--" 
"is this about suguru?" you ask him, the words falling before you can catch them. 
satoru stills. you can see every one of his muscles tense. preparing for a fight. "what?" 
"are you trying to... make up for his decisions? do you feel guilty? is megumi supposed to replace him?" 
"replace him?" 
"i know you think that you can take care of everything on your own, satoru, but you can't. it's not your fault that toji died. and it's not your fault that suguru left--" 
"it is my fault." he says, so softly the words are almost caught before they can reach you. "it is." 
you shake your head. you should've had this conversation months ago. a year ago, before any of this could happen. 
"c'mon, y/n," he continues, no laughter, no smile, no swagger. "i saw what was happening. everyone did. but i was his best friend. i was supposed to be there for him." 
"suguru didn't want you there. he didn't want you to be a part of it." 
"well i could've stopped him. even if i couldn't save suguru--" his voice cracks on his name. "i could've saved everyone else. but i didn't." 
"that's... that's a ridiculous suggestion. how are you supposed to kill your best friend? why should you have to save everyone? why would you even--" 
"megumi isn't some replacement. he's a little boy, and if i'm not there for him then he's going to be stuck with his family. just like i was. he's going to be used for his cursed energy and who knows how he'll turn out? if he'll kill people recklessly like toji, or die trying to do the right thing?" 
you're silent. 
"i'm the only one who can protect him from this," satoru says, and you realize that he's been thinking about this for the past year. that every second since he almost died, this has been on his mind. "they're not going to touch him if i make it clear that i won't let them. i won't--i'm not going to let him become someone he doesn't want to be." 
you sigh. "satoru..." 
his body moves at your voice and he smiles again, shaking off whatever anger you drew out. it's almost a complete shift in who you're talking to. like the stakes no longer matter to him; these kids are just another obstacle to face, a power to control. 
like he's remembered the role he's supposed to play. 
"besides, someone's going to need to take over for me eventually. i might as well train him myself." 
you cant see his eyes, and that’s probably good. you wish someone else were here to take your side, explain to satoru that he’s just a kid himself. that he shouldn't have to take care of everything on his own. 
because when it’s just you, he always has the upper hand. he always gets his way. 
"okay," you say, eventually, after you realize that you'll never win this fight. that you don’t want to fight with him at all.
"okay?" he repeats. "so you'll help me?" 
"help you?" 
"yeah. why do you think i brought them over here?" 
you pause. "you want me... to what? raise them?" 
"with me, yes." 
"are you kidding?" 
"no. you're probably the only person i trust to help." 
the words do something almost indescribable to your body. the person you were a year ago would've cried out in relief, would've clung to him like glue to paper. 
but you frown instead. "seriously?" 
"you've already taken care of them better than i could. look." he drags you around the corner to where tsumiki has her head on megumi's, both of them snoring softly, folded into the blanket you gave them. 
the tv flickers in the background, bothering neither of them. how they've managed to fall asleep with all of the yelling that's been going on, you don't know. 
"see? they already feel safe around you." 
"they're exhausted," you correct, but feel yourself soften at the sight of them. they are kinda cute without the scowl or concern plaguing their faces.
"we're going to be great parents," satoru coos, slinging an arm around your shoulder. 
you push him away. "we are not their parents. we are... permanent babysitters. nannies." 
satoru fixes you with an amused look. "okay." 
"and you still owe me an explanation. i want a complete narrative about what you've been doing for the past six months. and how you found the two of them." 
"okay," he steps closer to you again like you won't notice. 
"and--" you don't have anything else. it's one in the morning. how clear is your mind supposed to be? "and you're paying for anything they need." 
"uh huh." 
eventually, you sigh. it's a surprise that you've lasted this long. "fine. i'll help you. but only because they'd probably die if they spent more than twenty-four consecutive hours with you." 
satoru doesn't say anything--not to whine or roll his eyes--and it's a small acknowledgment, a thank you he doesn't have to say out loud. he'll take this win, at least. 
the two of you watch them, relaxing into the wall. 
after a minute satoru whispers. "by the way..." 
"what?" 
"i didn't tell megumi that i killed toji." 
you turn to him. your eye might as well start twitching. 
"what? he said he didn't want to know--" 
*
you're sneaking into the kitchen when you notice him sitting at the table. his hands are crossed in front of him, his eyes focused on a stain you haven't been able to get off of the wood. 
he's very small, you realize, watching him. his hair is messier than it was the night before, sticking to his head like he slept slumped against it. 
he's not doing anything, really. just sitting there. you can see his legs swinging in the air. 
and before you can prepare for what to say to this little boy who you're probably going to be spending a lot of time with, your mouth is open. "hey," you say to him, just whispering. 
tsumiki must be sleeping. 
megumi looks up, quickly, like he wasn't expecting you to be there. his eyes are wide like he's been caught doing something he wasn't supposed to. but then he slumps down again and gives you a brief nod in acknowledgment. then looks back down, because the table is very interesting.
you wonder how many mornings he's woken up alone, with no one to tuck him back in.
"can't sleep?" you ask him, standing across from him and leaning against the table. 
"this is when i usually wake up," you recall his voice the night before when satoru was teasing him, rougher than a boy's should be. but it's soft now, quiet. 
it's probably seven if the clock on your bedside table is to be believed. 
"you were up pretty late, though." 
he almost rolls his eyes, remembering the events of the night before. 
and you can tell that he doesn't really want to talk to you. he doesn't know anything about you, or what you want with him. why should he trust you? 
you clear your throat. "how old are you?" 
he looks up again. "six. why?" 
"satoru wasn't sure." 
this time, megumi actually rolls his eyes. you're familiar with this sort of annoyance directed at satoru, so you smile, just a little bit. at least there's something you can relate to. 
"and tsumiki?" 
"seven." 
you nod, stepping away. 
what do you say to a boy who has been dragged into your home by a maniac? 
you sigh, clearing your throat again. "are you hungry?" 
megumi's eyes narrow. there's a brief second between the two of you, where some sort of understanding passes through his eyes. who was the last person to make him breakfast? 
and then he nods, slowly. 
you smile. "okay. c'mon, let's see if i have anything you like." 
*
next part.
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bitchlessdino · 8 months
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I have this in mind, maybe svt member x reader where they are classmates from college, they are close but not THAT close lol. Until one day they started talking about house prices and how the rent is so expensive, but still with the desire of living alone, so he (maybe hoshi or woozi) proposed that they should find a place together to split rent. It started as a joke, but then they found a really good place and decided to try to live together for at least one semester.
so yeah at first everything is great since both of them are always busy, so they dont really see each other that often around the house.
until it could be that they are sexually frustrated and start a friends with benefits relationship (but in secret, so their circle of friends dont know about it). However, reader always had a big crush on him, but never said anything. idk what else to say
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Pairing: college roommate!soonyoung x afab!reader Genre: smut Word count: 5.9k tags: pwithplot, established friendship, roommate au, friends to fwb, pining, pervert!reader, pervert!soonyoung, mentions of alcohol, mutual masturbation, blowjobs, missionary, doggy, praise kink Summary: When it comes to the economy and needing a roof to live under, having a roommate is your best option, especially as any desperate college student. When arrangements are made with Soonyoung, a friend you admittedly have a visceral lust for, things take a turn one messy night. Making this arrangement more of an edible arrangement. author note: so i may have run wild since hoshi posted those thirst trap photos haha. im very proud of the header i made for this. this was something i planned on posting before my unprepared hiatus, and hopefully i'm still in spirits on continuing this. please anticipate more of me and remember that writers love interaction, criticism or not <333
Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @homerunhansol @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @6969lilithcat @wonuhour @camisun93 @emmmui @toruro @jeonride @novalpha @nvmrljk @feat-sun
“That’s funny, Soonyoung’s looking for a place too.”
You looked over at the man in question to see him mid-feast on a sandwich bigger than his face as it puffed his cheeks full like a common squirrel. “Why are you looking for a place? I thought you made plans with Seokmin?”
The man struggled to swallow down the larger-than-life bite, barely managing to do without scratching the back of his throat before answering. “His parents convinced him against it. I should’ve known he’d back out when he didn’t know how to do his own laundry.”
“Do you know how to do your own laundry?”
“I know there are colors and whites, detergent and softener—I’d figure it out.”
“I’m hearing a no…”
“Youtube exists. How hard could it be? But yeah, I’m looking for a place.” He set his sandwich aside to lean in closer, washing down any remnants with a swig of his Jihoon’s stolen Coke Zero, who at the moment couldn’t be more distracted with Physics paper. “It’s not easy that’s for sure. A single bedroom is way too much on its own and anything bigger I can barely cover half of.”
“Here’s an idea,” Mingyu suggested like it wasn’t on his mind for the fifteen minutes you’ve been complaining about being essentially homeless, “Why don’t you guys figure something out together?”
“Really? Me and Soonyoung?”
Your counterpart couldn’t help the offense washing over his face. “What’s wrong with me?”
“I don’t know if you’d be a good roommate.”
“What makes you roommate of the year?”
You rolled your eyes. “We’ve known each for what, a semester and a half, and I don’t know what your living habits are. I’ve basically lived alone all my life with my parents working all the time. How do I know you won’t push all the housework on me?”
Scoffing, his lips twisted up in a cocky smile. “You’re looking at the flail youngest of two who did almost a decade of housework for a hundred dollar allowance for a week. I don’t waste Pinesol, I hand wash dishes, and I keep my 50 pairs of shoes neatly out of the doorway and in pristine condition.”
“You can do all that and not operate a washing machine?”
“The buttons and colors confuse me.”
“So,” Mingyu interrupted again, “How about it? Sounds like you guys a both a little desperate. The housing market isn’t getting any lower.”
“I guess you don’t sound all to bad to live with then,” You replied with a tinge of a tease.
“What do you bring to the table?” Soonyoung interjected.
“Discounts for food at my work, a Netflix account, a pack of scrub daddies, and a decent amount of disposable income for half an average month's rent and fun stuff if we ever get bored. Down?”
Soonyoung stroked his chin as if to think, but his head, the deal sounded as good as it can get. If he was being honest, he was desperate, but after the berating, he couldn’t let you know that. “Add in some salon-quality shampoos and conditioners and we have a deal.”
You groaned. “Fine, for a semester for now, but you’re getting laundry stuff and learning how to use the machines.”
You hadn’t expected to be apartment shopping with Soonyoung looking like a pair of newlyweds, but here you were doing exactly that. There wasn’t anything particular about him that bothered you, (except maybe the harboring attraction you had for him since freshman orientation that you blanketed over with over argumentative banter and an aloof attitude when he was around).
But as far as you knew, you were morning and night.  Sure, you’ve gotten along in social situations, but you knew how drastically different your lives were. When you aren’t working, you were a homebody and he’d bring bodies home. He lived differently than you did to put it plainly.
And perhaps the idea of waking up with him every morning possibly shirtless and/or naked frankly made you both terrified and aroused all at once.
The moment you shook his hand to agree, you were already feeling some regret, but hey, maybe that’ll actually do you some good. Maybe you’ll finally get over this school crush on this unattainably hot guy after seeing how disgusting he is leaving his underwear and socks in every corner of the place. It’s inevitable things can only go down from here, right? Right?
“A few ground rules should be in order.”
Soonyoung nodded, putting away the remainder of the edible arrangement gifted to you by your collective friends in the fridge. “Like what?”
“Chores should be switched off every week so we know how to handle all types at all times, but we do our own laundry. No exceptions. Dinner is a group effort. If we get takeout, always tell the other at least an hour in advance and costs are split. Groceries are bought biweekly with a set budget.”
“Strict, but ok. I’ll do my best to follow them. Anything else?”
You were reluctant to bring up this last one. You cleared you through, taking a second to properly form the words before letting them out. “If we have someone that we’re getting involved with, it’s either done at their place or in an empty apartment with plenty of notice.”
Soonyoung can’t help but bust out a wide and perfect grin, crossing his arms seeing the timid expression on your face. “Fine. I’ll make sure when I have sex with someone, it’s under those guidelines.”
“Ha, thanks,” You awkwardly respond, “I’ll abide the same.”
His eye narrowed at you dubiously. “Wait, you’ll actually get around?”
“Why are you doubting me?”
He chuckled, shrugging smooth broad shoulders through his black sleeveless tee. “You just don’t really seem about that. There’s nothing wrong with it, but—“
“You don’t know every detail of my intimate life so butt out.”
His arms rose up in defense, nodding along. “Alright, okay. If that’s all, I have a few rules of my own.”
“Okay. Have at it.”
He mused to himself for a few seconds. “Bathroom schedule: first come first serve.”
You nodded, easy enough.
“At a few hours of the day, the living room becomes an at-home gym when needed.”
Okay, that one had a little kick to it. “Alright.”
“And we have a safe word.”
You blinked back at him, heart pounding a little louder than it should, legs clenching as if they were being pried apart, and sweat burning the temple of your forehead with the unnecessarily dirty thoughts running through your mind. “A w-what?”
“A safe word,” he repeated as a matter of fact, “a word we can use when there’s conflict and something wrong and we just completely stop what we’re doing.” He grinned a little. “It’s not just for sex you know.”
You shoved him, earning his chuckle. “I know that, jerk. But fine, what do you suggest?”
“…Tiger.”
“How did I know that’s what you’d say?”
“Because we’re good friends.”
“How about ‘hamster’?”
He frowned. “No.”
“But look how effective that was.”
For the most part, things went smoothly. It helped that things got busy and tasks barely needed to get done with the exception of laundry. You saw each other more in your friend group gatherings than at home in your shared arrangement, and despite everyone knowing you live together, neither of you made it a point to make a big deal about it, even if everyone else does.
The countless times you had to fight Seokmin, Jeonghan, or Jihyo about the possibility of something developing between you and your new roommate romantically pained you with their inaccuracy. It seemed left and right that’s all everyone could talk about since it was arranged. It seemed as if there was nothing better up for discussion. Soonyoung dealt with it all the same, being constantly asked what kind of nefarious doings are being done behind closed doors that no one knows about. It always came as a disappointment when it was broken towards them that nothing was happening and that nothing ever will.
Even to you. Surprising enough.
If you learned anything from living with Soonyoung, it was harder than you expected it to be, especially with a still festering crush that is only developing into something almost tangibly heart-wrenching and stomach churning. It seemed to have taken a turn for the worse when Soonyoung started to take advantage of the home gym more due to the massive heatwave in town. 
The damn pull up bar.
You’ve only realized the time you’ve wasted after hearing the kettle whistle you put out apparently ten minutes ago. Your mind was too clouded by the flex of his biceps lifting his body in the air. Or the contracting and releasing of his shoulders that were lightly misted by perspiration. Or were too preoccupied with wanting to lick off the veins of the poor man’s lower abdomen. Or thinking about what those arms could do flinging you upside a—
“Oh, early class?”
“Uh, yeah. There’s a lot more traffic today, so I'm getting there earlier than usual.” 
His feet landed on the ground with a thud and he grabbed a towel to wipe over the sweat that was making his body glisten like glaze on a smooth buff donut. “I’m guessing you have no time for breakfast then?”
“Unfortunately,” you respond, quickly pouring your tea into your thermos before getting to your shoes, “I was gonna grab something at the Starbucks on campus after.”
“Here.” He tossed something from a box behind him and watched as you flimsily caught it from the front door.
“Oh.” A protein bar, a good one from your experience of raiding his side of the pantry. “Thanks.”
“And cancel all previous engagements. Dinner’s on me tonight.”
You squinted at him, “Why?”
“We’ll have something nice for once tonight,” he grinned, “be home at 8 tonight.”
Soonyoung’s plan for dinner was a free courtesy of Mingyu who found a nice little gig as a sous chef in a trendy place uptown. The whole circle celebrated together and you only got around to knowing after Soonyoung kept you updated on news knowing you’d be too busy to look at the giant groups chat you’re in. You should’ve been appreciative. That should’ve been your first instinct, not…entitlement. Not envious of him making eyes and flirting with the waitres. Not embarrassment for expecting something more from his brazen invite to dinner with you.
So, by then you’ve had a bit to drink. Okay, a lot to drink. Just enough to drink to have you stumbling on the center dance floor that garnered the attention of prying eyes. At that moment, nothing really mattered. You knew where lines lie, but lines eventually blur.
One second, you’re alone swaying to Britney Spears’ “toxic”, another second, Seungcheol’s crotch is up against your ass. It was a nice sentiment since you were definitely craving a bit of attention tonight, although you weren’t sure if you could look your friend in the eye again after that. Fortunately for you, it only got so far until a shapeless, but familiar, body pulled you away from the scene, forcibly putting you away in a bright yellow car. With your many failed protests, they managed to reach the footsteps of your building and finally reached for keys in their front pockets to open up your apartment.
“Hold still. Please…God, I am not sober enough for this.”
“Soonyoung….” You whined like a lost child.
He gripped you tighter by the arm to lock you in place, preventing you from falling. He was used to being taken care for and the grass was not greener on the other side. He has a lot of people he needs to apologize to. “Almost…okay, okay. I’m in. Go. Go shower and sober yourself up.”
You tugged him at the wrist, pulling him towards you. “Shower with me…”
He scoffed, a smug smile forming on his face. “You have no idea what you’re saying. Go before I make you, and I really don’t wanna have to make you.”
“Fineee…”
Logic flew out the window tonight. Not paying it a second thought, you began stripping yourself of your clothes in the middle of the living room, from socks to immediately your shirt. Soonyoung’s eyes nearly shot out of his skull as he scrambled to cover you in your abandoned shirt before it almost hit the ground.
“Undress in the bathroom please.” Even in your intoxicated state, you could feel the tension of his muscles brush against your back, causing the heat to creep up on your skin.
You let yourself melt into him giggling, turning your head back to meet his cautious eyes. “Maybe you’d like to help with that.”
You can see the bit of shock in his eyes, fluttering back to something more composed once he internally reminded himself this was the ramblings of a drunk person. “You really don’t know what you're saying.” He then pushed you inside the restroom, holding the door by its knob, “Shower and brush your teeth. I’m not letting you out until I’m sure you’re done.”
“Soonyoung…”
“Please, just do it.”
Eventually, he finally convinced you to do as he asked and he hears the shower running, but a mere second later a thud follows. You busted out in a fit of pain, slipping on the already wet floor and immediately your roommate comes running in concerned. “What happened?”
He turned his head the second he processed your fallen body on the ground was bare naked. Shower water poured down on your head, drenching you from head to toe, and glistening your body like a wet dream. Your eyes lit up at him in a timid demure, barely covering your intimate parts with your arms and hands. He coughed dramatically, pinching himself to find restraint, and repeated his quarry of concern with avoidant eyes before you pointed out the obvious, “I fell.”
“Hold on to the rails, that’s what they’re for,” he groaned.
“Sorry.”
He sighed, slightly glancing. “Do you need help?”
You shook your head even when he wasn’t looking. “No, I think I’m good.”
“Good. Just be careful and tell me when you’re done.”
And you’re alone again.
You pulled yourself up from your pathetic state and then the warm water run through your features, letting out a loud sigh. You finished up the best you could, ridding yourself of a night full of grime. Grabbing a towel on the rack, you wrapped it around your damp nude before letting Soonyoung know from the other side of the door. He finally let you free from his handmade prison before watching you go scurry to your bedroom in a concoction of drunken embarrassment.
You muttered to yourself scoldings for letting something like that happen, clenching your legs together in bed the moment you hear his round of shower hit the tiles through the thin walls. A groan unexpectedly sounds off abundantly clear, and your shameless thoughts take action while he’s preoccupied. 
Still naked, you let the towel fall to the ground and you crawl under the sheets of your bed, not caring in the slightest about your hair getting your pillows wet. Your hands slowly trail down to your chest, ghosting over your skin until the pads of your fingers finally found what’s between your legs. You moaned at your self-discovery. Filming your fingers with your filthy arousal, a smile derived from self-indulgence shaped on your face. There you let your fingers slide between your folds and you shudder.
Meanwhile, Soonyoung couldn’t get your image out of his head. The glimpse alone was enough to make him think of you in compromising positions. Lips around his angry stiff cock, your tongue sliding against the veins of his shaft. He’d then hear the wet suction, the vibrations of your mouth humming around his skin, moaning his name like the perfect dessert you were. He groaned again to himself, pressing his length against his abdomen, not thinking you’d hear.
But you do. In fact, it’s so coherent, it makes you wet enough seep past your thighs, trailing down your legs. Your fingers plunged in you deeper while the palm of your hand rubbed against the shape of your clit. Your hips heave up from the mattress, pressing deeper into your palm as the image of Soonyoung’s face stayed a constant in your intoxicated head.
Soonyoung could hear your moans through it all, even if you didn’t think they did, and you only further fed his imagination. He braced against the wall behind him, thrusting into his fist with gritted teeth. The squeeze he had on his girth was merciless and all he had to rid of his overwhelming sin. In his head, you batted your pretty eyes back him, trailing your hands over his body, mouth gaping that looked ready to be filled one way or another. He threw his head back, whispering your name softly. “Oh, baby…you look so good swallowing my cock.”
You felt tears soak your eyes, swallowing a desperate breath.“Mmh, fuck…just like that please…”
“Gonna fuck your pretty pussy…” His thrusts roughly pulled himself at his base, clenching the life around it.
“You’re so deep, fuck, you feel so good—“
“You’re gonna make me cum—“
“Shit, I’m gonna cum—“
“Shit—“
“Shit—“
Simultaneously, you both were freed of your tension, a sudden release of breath escaping your lungs. The spilled cum fell at Soonyoung’s feet, melting in the heat of the water before it followed down the drain, while you fell slumped in bed in your own filth. You lazily reached out for your towel to clean the rest of the mess, tore away your dirty sheets, and settled into a tired slumber.
Soonyoung, overwashed with shame, hung his head down as he quietly cursed to himself. He shut off the shower head and reached for his towel. He finally concludes this evening, having taken a load off. There wasn’t much left on his mind that night, only teh thought of wanting it to be over.
The morning comes sooner than you realize and you find yourself at the mercy of a shirtless Soonyoung like most mornings, except this time he wasn’t doing pull-ups. Instead, he walked to you, a vigor to his stride and he decidedly met your eyes, while you were still focused on his body.
“You’re not very good at hiding things,” he said with a knowing smile.
“Soonyoung—“
“Should I just give you what you want? Should I fuck the shit out of you until all I can hear is my name?”
An answer was caught in the tightness of your throat when he lifted you off the ground and instinctively made you wrap your legs around his bare torso. The heat of his body is all you could focus on until he planted you flat on your kitchen counter, parting your legs to reveal the sudden bareness beneath your oversized t-shirt.
He licked his lip, tensing up his abdomen excitedly before he found home between your thighs. Your fingers threaded through his hair, crying out in soft breaths, and pulling his head back to meet his pretty eyes glossed over with lust. 
He mumbled into your skin, specifically one thing. And he said it over again and over again. Unable to make out what he says, you asked him to repeat it more clearly. It was then he rose up to the surface, a sticky sweet sheen of your arousal in his lips before he drew them close to your ear. His breath fanned your skin, shivers running down your spine, and finally what he says makes sense.
“Wake up.”
Your eyes ripped open like the ground beneath you should’ve. You ran a hand over your face, groaning at your own dismay. “What the actual fuck…”
It took a minute for you to pull yourself out of bed, groggy and with a raging headache to blow over throughout the day, only to be met with nearly an identical circumstance you met in your dream. Your roommate’s bare back stared back at you as brightly as the morning sun. You shrunk back at the reminder of your dream, walking on eggshells towards him to reach the fridge. “Morning.”
Soonyoung coughed on his water recognizing your presence, timidly greeting you back.
“Plans today?” You asked.
He nodded, “Yeah, classes in the afternoon.”
The silence couldn’t be more deafening.
“You.”
“Yeah, me too. Will be back at home at 9 after work.”
“Cool.”
“Cool.”
And soon you parted, embarrassed that encountered ever happened.
The rest of the day, there was much of seeing each other like most days, but this particular instance felt there was more of a reason to it. Even when it came around to your mutually available time at lunch, you made the extra effort not to run into him. How could you?
After making a pass on him and making the half-conscious decision of touching yourself to him while he was in the shower?
You’d be insane to go about things as if they were normal. They weren’t. 
When you came home that night, he was home like he always was, yet nowhere in sight. You knew he was home when you noticed his bike locked up where it normally was and shoes placed at the front of the door. You were tempted to call out his name but refrained when you reminded yourself you were yet ready for that confrontation yet.
Unfortunately for you, you didn’t have a choice in the matter as  Soonyoung seemed to be already walking out of his room, shocked to see you actually home despite it being the time you said you’d be home by. “Hey…”
“Hey.” You let your stuff down before heading to the kitchen. “Did you eat yet?”
“Uh, yeah. I got pizza with a few Chan and Seungkwan.”
“Cool. I’m just gonna make myself something real quick.”
“Alright.”
“Did you need something?”
“Hmm?”
You pointed to his door. “You came out of your room.”
“Right,” he quickly scanned the floor before claiming nearly finished bottle of water on the couch's corner table. “W-water. I got thirsty.”
Obviously, it was an excuse, but you weren’t going to point it out with your lack of backbone. “Okay, well, I’m out here if you need anything.”
“Yeah. Okay.”
Before he retreated back to the room, a halt was squeezed out of your throat, catching him in his eager steps. He turned to you with unfocused eyes, hard swallowing in an attempt to calm himself down. “What is it?”
“I need to get this off my chest. Yesterday…I’m really sorry for everything yesterday.”
He sighed. That’s what all that was? “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”
“Also. Shit, um. I don’t know why I’m saying this because it's not like it matters. Well, it does a little bit. It could totally come off wr—“
“Hey,” he interrupted, “I doubt it’s as big a deal as your making it out to be, and I’m okay with not knowing.”
“But you should know actually.” You steadily approached him, letting out an exaggerated exhale. “Yesterday, you were showering and I don’t know what got over me. Well, I was drunk, so I guess there was that bit. Anyway, I heard you, you know, and I guess I—“
“Touched yourself when I was in the shower?”
You shut your eyes, preparing yourself for the worst. “Okay, we’re getting right into it, but yeah. It just felt weird not telling you, I just—“
“You knew I was masturbating?”
“Well, yeah? It was obvious if I’m being honest. Not the point. I invaded your privacy and indulged in it. I don’t know, maybe it’s been a while since…I just want to apologize.”
“For what, overhearing me whack myself off,” he took a step closer, eyes a lot like your dream meeting yours, “or for cumming to the thought of me?”
You breathed out through your nose. In and out. Your eyes for the life of you could not stay steady. “B-both?”
“If we’re being honest here, I should come clean too, shouldn’t I?”
Your hand steadied on the couch, almost letting the force of gravity pull you down along with your sanity, but tried maintaining eye contact as if that would change the dynamic even a little bit. “About what?”
Soonyoung finally found the humor in the situation to smile, one that caused the stagger in your step. “About how your face would come up when I touched myself in the shower.”
“Soonyoung—“
“You can be mad at me, but I won't be mad at you for doing the same thing I did. I don’t regret it because that was the best orgasm I’ve had in mon—“
You silenced his lips with your own, launching you into him until all you felt was the heat of his furnace of a body. His hands claimed the small of your back before pressing your curves into his hollows. He received your lips feverishly, moving against you as if in heated debate, and crashed your body into the furniture closest to you. 
“Didn’t know you were this eager,” he mumbled, “you should've told me.”
Your hand gripped his hair, your teeth taking his bottom lip between and pulling, emitting illicit whines that filled your stomach with warmth. Your leg propped to his side, embracing him hungrily there wasn’t even space to breathe. His hips knocked back into you, his bulge grinding against your clothed heat as he arched you over the back of the couch.
“You’re a bit mean. I like that.” He giggled.
“Shut up,” you mumbled.
“May I remind you, you kissed me.”
“And I can back out right this second.”
“Oh, but we can’t have that,” he utilized his upper strength to lift you off the ground looped tightly around his torso, a gasp leaving your lips. You reunite with his eyes that are now leveled with yours. You’ve looked into them before but it shocked you with how dark they are, how earnest they look. “You see it, don't you? How much I want you? I see it in your eyes too.”
“T-this a tactic you use on all people you sleep with?”
He shook his head. “Just you, and only because I really want you.”
Your hand planted against his cheek, the curve of your palm hugging his jaw. His breath hitches from the mere tenderness in your eyes. His body has ever only told him he was you carnally and raw, but that gaze. If he would just bottle that gaze and show off like a trophy.
Your hand crawled over to the nape of his neck, there your digits ran up his hair, pushing him innately close to yours, and you whispered cautiously, “We can never tell the others.”
“I’ll take this to my grave if it’s what you want.”
You nodded. “Good boy.”
He transported you to his room, dropping you on his mattress with him to follow. Your lips stay glued together a perfect mold, tongue clashing in a union that you’ve only even dreamt of having. Soonyoung only briefly pulled away to reveal his torso. He was firm, flushed to the touch, and heaving under the heat of your palm.
You gasped as he pressed his body against your touch, smiling against your skin as he asked if you liked what you were seeing. All you could do was nod, somehow lost in the trance that you never wanted to escape. His mouth took your neck, roaming starved as his hands undressed you down to your underwear.
“God, you’re gorgeous.” He slipped you out from your sleeves and made skin contact. Chest to chest, waist to waist, hips to hips. You sense his want through touch alone and for once being wrong felt so incredibly right. What a relief to know, he felt what you did. “I never wanted someone this badly before.”
“Soonyoung…”
He nipped your neck, teeth scratching against your skin. “You say my name like that, I’ll have no choice but to ruin you. Be careful around me. Or don’t. I’d show you a good time either way.”
“You’re—mmp—such a…ah—s-sweet talker.” You could hardly talk back. He made love to your skin as if he’d done it before, touching every pressure of your body like a skilled lover, both attentively yet without remorse.
“I’m only saying what I’ve been thinking. Like how desperate I am to feel myself between your thighs.” He tugged down your underwear to your feet and let the fall to the ground, allowing your legs to hook around him. “Or how your lips taste like caramel coffee, the candy you eat every time you need a ‘pick me up.’”
“You pay attention to that?” You asked, fiddling over the button of his pants.
“I don’t make an effort to, I just do.” He found your hands, aiding you in your efforts, soon you heard the sound of fabric hitting the floor. He held your gaze still, guiding your hand over his hard cock, taking from the base up to the shaft. You swallowed memorizing his shape, his length, his weight. There was so much you wanted to be able to share with this part of him alone. “Now it’s your turn to pay attention to me.”
Your lips stretched over your cheeks. “What makes you think I don’t?” 
You trace over something particular with your other hand, something that bulges at you even with his pants on. You lifted yourself to sit up, folding your calves behind your thighs. Stroking his length with one hand, you admire your veins leading down his lap with the other. “I’ll have you know, my patience is admirable. It took a lot within me to blatantly ignore these pretty veins you have on your stomach.”
“Someone’s never called them that before,” he chuckled, “no one’s even acknowledged them before.”
“I guess no one’s been privileged enough to see them as often as I do. Lucky me.” You thumbed over the blue, scrapping over its stroke as you lowered your head and your lips wrapped around the head. You covered his underside, tugging  your lips around him, and watching his jaw drop lower when you began covering more of his length.
“I’m the lucky one,” he acknowledged, his hand dropping to the crown of your head before caressing the length of your hair. “You should see how good you look sucking my dick right now. I’m never gonna see this image without wanting to cum on the spot.”
You steadied yourself at his hips, tongue gliding over the underside, and you hugged your cheeks tighter around his girth. Eyes fluttered back at him, and you wretched to take more of him, already felt him hit the back of your throat. When you heard him moan, it fed you more encouragement, giving your best efforts to fit all of him. You coughed at the tightness in your throat but remained resilient. The vicious substance of your saliva coated him from tip to base as your hand stroked him repeatedly, pushing him deeper into you until your vision grew weary. 
Soonyoung told you to take it slow, stroking the back of your head with a gentle hand. You inhaled him for as long as you could, the sounds of your efforts growing dim the deeper he made it past your mouth. Ultimately, tears ran down your cheeks, oxygen cut from your airways, and you felt no choice but to pull him out, resting his cock between your fingertips as you gasped for breath.
That breath was quickly stolen when Soonyoung dived in to claim it, his body caging yours. His weight against yours was comforting, enticing, addicting. He moaned your name sweetly like a song, and it filled your stomach with embers of desire. “You’re so hot…I’d make you do that again if I wasn’t worried about killing you.”
You pathetically scoffed in an attempt to cover up discomfort. “That? Pff, I’m fine.”
He grinned, kissing you long and deep. “You’re so cute when you lie. I’ll make sure to return the favor now.”
Pulling at your thighs, he dragged them towards him, barely touched your eager heat, and his twitch urging you to pull him close. He leaned over somewhere behind you to tear open a condom, rolling it over himself. As he drew closer, so did you, feeling the inviting head of his cock glide over your wet cunt, you trembled in thought. Soonyoung, just—
“Put it in me.”
“Now, now. I’m not going anywhere,” he smiled cheekily.
“Soonyoung,” You whined.
Your impatience is rewarded when he plunged himself in slowly, but completely, embracing the stretch of your walls as he filled you out. “So…needy...”
His initial thrust is deep, strong, and then he landed another, quickly adjusting to the plush of your pussy. You held your thighs back to your chest, and spread your legs wide for him. Your pretty lips weren’t shy with praising him, asking him for more of his pretty cock, and earning just as you ask. “You’re mind-numbing, shit…what a good fucking pussy…”
“Your cock’s so g-good in me…you feel so good inside me, Soonyoung…”
“Fuck, say my name like that again.”
He flipped you on your stomach, pressing his fingers into your as he found his pace from behind you, ramming into you until your cunt has tasted every inch of his cock. You gasped as his hand maneuvered you to push back against him, like a toy to be played with he used every bit of you, your energy, your sexuality, and he embraced it. You felt amazing. 
“Soonyoung, I’m—ah—I’m gonna cum.”
“You’re gonna cum around my cock? Hmm? Is that it? My cock fucking you that good?”
You bit into his cheeks nodding, in the urge to respond before the wave of arousal crashed into you. You were clenching your stomach as his name came in tidal waves, grinding towards him to prologue the high. Loudly, you cursed, balling the sheets underneath you into fists. 
Soonyoung nodded proudly, the shaky view of your body trembling beneath him fuels his ego and it’s not long before he orgasms, filling the condom until it nearly burst. He pulled out of you finally, quickly discarding the trash before he joined you in bed, hugging your fatigued body to his side and there was silence. Only silence.
And breathing. Mainly Soonyoung’s. And that went on for a good fifteen minutes until someone spoke again.
“I’m glad I waited for that.”
You looked up at your roommate curiously, the smile on his face felt warmer every time you saw it. “What was that?”
He met your gaze, hand softly moving over your hair. “I feel like I’ve gotten closer to you. I always wanted that.”
“Really?”
He nodded, planting a chaste kiss on your forehead. “Who knew sex would make us closer friends?”
Your body ran cold, in the distance you could hear the shattering of glass far off from reality. You stayed frozen under his touch as he embraced you closer to his naked body, hooking his chin over your neck. “We should do this again. I wouldn’t mind getting used to this.”
That’s what you were scared of. Getting used to this. To this arrangement. To the sensation of his cock inside you. To the sense that it’d never be more than you hoped it would be. You’d never have Soonyoung be yours, but you knew somehow you’d always be his.
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animezinglife · 1 month
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Nyx Headcanons
Headcanons for my favorite little bean, because we don't talk about him enough.
He 100% inherits Rhys's "earth-shattering" power. That extra chapter where Feyre and Rhys were deciding on a name and basically felt powers shifting in the Force when Nyx came up makes me firmly believe that.
He's a good, sweet kid but also goes through a few phases where he's an absolute nightmare to raise through no fault of his own. Nyx is a happy baby, but has zero concept of his power when it starts to show, leaving one very tired High Lord and High Lady when he shatters a window in his nursery when wiggling his arms excitedly.
He's an intuitive little guy though and very quickly figures out he needs to be careful when Feyre and Rhys try to teach him to get a handle on that power. He learns this the hard way after accidentally nightmisting one of his toys.
Nobody for the life of them can figure out why he adores cranky Auntie Amren so much. Though he's not old enough to explain it, he thinks she's another child to play with. Cassian suggests this and Amren nearly rips his head off.
Nyx is a full-fledged mama's boy. He adores Feyre and is a complete snugglebug with her. He's also very protective of his mama.
That said, he idolizes his dad too and copies everything he does. He follows Rhys around and mimics everything, right down to trying to copy the High Lord's graceful swagger. Feyre, naturally, absolutely melts at the sight of him waddling after his dad with one hand in his pocket looking too cool for school on his tiny little legs.
Nyx is obsessed with Starfall, and his first-ever painting is a finger painting of him with his parents under those stars. Rhys gets misty-eyed when he sees it.
He's besties with Kallias and Viviane's little snow angel. The fact they're the same age is perfect--when the grown-ups are too boring tending to one courtly matter or the other, Nyx and his friend can easily pass the time playing in the snow. Nyx already has met his match in the realm of snowball fighting, and takes a new tactic or two back to absolutely wallop his uncles. Rhys could not be more proud of this fact.
Nyx takes his role as Eldest Cousin very seriously, but there's one cousin in particular who absolutely does not and will not listen to a word he says. Guess whose kid that cousin is.
Nyx takes a little too much after his mother sometimes in that he befriends every semi-civil demon-thing or dark spirit that walks the face of the earth. To Uncle Cassian's absolute horror, Nyx is apparently friends with Bryaxis...and Bryaxis loves this kid.
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Halloween prompts year 2 day 15
Hood remained silent, even as he clenched the gun tightly in his hand. He hadn't even seen a hint of green portals or blond elfs but 200 witnesses couldn't all be wrong.
All of them had stated that a white haired meta with a gas mask was working with a blond elf with a leaf mask and that they had been the ones kidnapping the kids and teens of Gotham.
Jason had heard stories of fairies snatching kids and infants, sometimes swapping them out with a sickly one of thier own. But there were no trades that Jason knew of. Only missing kids.
Hell, all of the biggest child gangs around Crime Alley and the Narrows were gone.
As in gone gone. Not a single member was left nor any trace of where they could have been taken to. As much as he hated to admit it, he might need to ask for help from the Justice League Dark...
---
Link stared down at the kids from his rooftop perch.
They looked...cleaner. Happier. They had gained a healthy amount of weight, no longer stick thin and weak looking. They had season appropriate clothing without holes and others hidden away in chests and armours for the coming seasons far off from now.
His spirit friend, Phantom, had panicked a bit after he realized what they were doing was trafficking, but calmed down once he pointed out that these kids would have a much better life in Hyrule than they would have had in the rotting trashpit that was Gotham.
If they would have lived much longer at all
Still, thier presence here was mutually beneficial. Hyrule had lost over 80% of its population in the Great Calamity and they were no where close to regaining the population they once had. All of thier forts, training areas, ect were specifically targeted and destroyed in the attacks and gardians and monsters were left in the ruins to ensure they could not rebuild what was lost
Which led to the bigger issues at hand. All the empty occupations.
The castle, and thus castle town, were ground zero for the disaster that wiped out the Hylian peoples. With it many businesses and trades were lost. Hyrule had few soldiers and those they did have desperately needed armor, weapons and training.
That wasn't all. Hudson construction had attempted to repair Castle town and eventually the castle, but they were wood workers, not stone masons. They knew little of the craft that was needed.
There were lessons and information in the castle archives covering most of the jobs and trades, as well as how to proform them, but the princess didn't see it as a priority. They didn't have the people necessary to teach these crafts and the castle and town surrounding wasn't really a priority anyway. Not with all the people who still needed help around the kingdom.
Phantom helped a lot too. Other than helping them build towns for the kids (the child gangs actually really liked having a town all to themselves) he did a lot of other random jobs around the kingdom, much like Link himself.
Unfortunately, his next trip to Gotham lead to a run in with the "Red Hood" and the phrase, "Was that a fucking fruit grenade?!" Link did not know what the word "Fucking" meant but the Hood man would not tell him. He is learning a lot of new words from this guy, words that Phantom appearently didn't like cause he loudly scolded Red Hood like a naughty child the first time they met. It was hilarious to see this tiny 15 year old tell off a giant tank of a man.
Link couldn't see the mans expression due to the odd red helm the man wore, but he could tell he was cowed, even if just a bit. Then he began speaking to someone who wasn't there while pressing his finger to the side of his helm where his ear should be. Is Red Hood ill? Does he have a mind sickness like the ones Phantom told him of when describing his parents? Or is this something Link doesn't yet understand...either way he doesn't think he's getting more children for Hyrules future in this trip...or anytime soon if those ominous masked people landing on the rooftops around them had any say in the matter.
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teamatsumu · 9 months
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What if the Seireitei had a Human Resources Department? And what if you were in charge?
Summary: With the kind of antics these shinigami get up to every day, it was only a matter of time before the higher ups felt the need to create an HR Department to deal with the day to day messes. Here’s a little drabble about how it all started
Word Count: 2,062
Warnings: swearing, bad humor, mentions of violence
next part
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Sometimes it was hard to believe that the gods didn't have it out for you. Especially when you ended up in situations like this against your will and through no fault of your own.
The corridor was completely silent despite the amount of people that it held. It’s almost like everyone knew how fucked they were, and they were praying with every fiber in their bodies that somehow, they would not get killed at the hands of the Captain Commander today.
You stared at the large “1” written on the wooden doors in front of you, hands clasped so tightly in your lap that your knuckles turned white. Your heart was beating so hard it almost hurt your ribcage. Next to you on the bench, Ikkaku shuffled, and you resisted the urge to deck him across the face. He was injured enough as it was. And frankly, no punch you could land on him would do any good. You had zero hurting power in your body.
Once again, you wondered which otherworldly spirit you had pissed off to get where you were.
Squad 4 was supposed to be a safe choice. You had asked to be put in it for a reason when you graduated. Far, far away from the fighting and pain. No conflict. Just helping people, healing injuries and staying inside where there were no battles. You would take any amount of scut work over whatever the hell those other divisions got up to. And you were good at your job. You handled medical emergencies well, you were a boss at getting through paperwork. Lieutenant Isane would cry tears of joy at the sight of you almost daily since you were singlehandedly keeping the admin side of the division afloat on your own.
So why did it have to come to this?
After what seemed like an eternity, the wooden door cracked open with a deafening sound and a head poked through it. The Shinigami’s eyes scanned the crowd outside until they fell on you. You felt your throat knot. He gestured for you to come to him before disappearing behind the door again.
You stood up on shaky legs, deliberately trying not to look at everyone around you who was now staring at you with pity in their eyes, no doubt. You unintentionally caught eyes with Captain Kuchiki, a calm slate gray that seemed to settle your nerves just a bit. He gave you an almost imperceptible nod, and some strength returned to your legs. You were grateful he was there, despite him not having any involvement in the situation.
Well, it was his Lieutenant on the line so maybe some involvement.
The Shinigami led you down a long hallway silently, your almost numb legs following behind. You felt like a baby deer with how unsteady you were. What were baby deers called again? Foals? You had no clue. Your mind was fried at this point. You tried to send a short prayer to the gods above, but then you remembered they were the ones who put you here in the first place so maybe praying to them wouldn’t be too good of an idea.
The Captain Commander certainly had an air about him. The table he sat behind in his office made him look grand. The office was almost like a balcony, overlooking a magnificent view of the Seireitei that you would have loved to admire under less precarious circumstances. You kept your eyes on the desk he was seated at, bowing low and standing straight as a rod until the Shinigami who brought you there had shut the door behind him with a click that echoed in your very soul. Then, it was silent.
Yamamoto Genryuusai was looking at you with a hard stare. You felt the horrifyingly embarrassing urge to burst into tears.
“Explain.” He said.
What came next was the worst word vomit known to mankind.
It had started two days ago, as festivities for New Years were just beginning to unravel. You had been on night duty, a post you wouldn't wish on anyone. Holidays almost always ended up with someone landing in the Squad 4 barracks with injuries. A bunch of drunk soldiers with weapons and the ability to fight felt like a disaster waiting to happen. But what happened next was ten times worse than what anyone was anticipating.
The fight was pretty standard. Some drunk Squad 3 member had thought it would be a good idea to taunt Squad 11 members by calling them brainless idiots who only knew how to swing a sword. It was a fist fight that escalated when Yumichika and Ikkaku stepped in. Somewhere in the commotion, someone had broken a bottle of sake on Yumichika’s face.
This, of course, caused a complete meltdown on Yumichika’s part, who could feel the cuts on his face that would potentially leave scars. He lost his shit and proceeded to beat the crap out of everyone around him. A very, very drunk Ikkaku and accompanying Renji thought that was the best solution in their alcohol-addled minds. The rest was history.
What had landed into Squad 4 was over 20 extremely injured Shinigami, a flurry of broken limbs and blood. The biggest issue was that this had involved a Lieutenant and two seated officers. Once Captain Unohana got wind of it, it was all over. This kind of violence wouldn't fly under the strict Captain’s nose, and she had reported the whole matter to the Captain Commander. That immediately put Captain Zaraki and Captain Kuchiki’s asses on the line since it was their officers involved, and since you had been the attending who received every case in Squad 4, you were asked to report to the Captain Commander for a full explanation on the matter the following morning.
That morning, extremely hungover Ikkaku and Yumichika had shown up at your barracks, pleading with you to save them. Apparently their Captains had been furious, and both of them were being considered for a major demotion. And Renji? Lord, Captain Kuchiki would make sure Renji never saw the light of day again.
While you made them tea to try and stave off their headaches, Yumichika had given you an honest recounting of the whole situation, and it made your heart soften. They really had just been there to break apart a fight before Yumichika’s face got involved. And as you looked at his bandaged face, knowing full well the extent of the damage underneath, (you had been the one to heal him after all) you felt your heart swell in pity.
So you had agreed to the impossible task of trying to make them appear like the victims in this situation. In front of the fucking Captain Commander. What were you thinking? Curse your empathy and curse the fact that you had somehow befriended these people.
“So according to you, Fifth seat Ayasegawa was there to break up the fight?” Captain Commander Yamamoto’s voice was grumbly and low.
You nodded. A drop of sweat rolled down the side of your face and you were breathing hard. You twisted your fingers behind your back, jaw locked so tight it made your teeth hurt.
“You realize he was singlehandedly responsible for incapacitating 11 out of the 20 injured men?”
You closed your eyes. Fucking Yumichika. That fucker.
“He only responded to an extremely hateful and violent attack on himself, sir. He was not the instigator. As the healer who received him in Squad 4 barracks, I can guarantee that his condition was horrifying.”
“So you agree with his decision to retaliate the way he did?”
You shook your head immediately. “No, sir. I do not agree with it, but in the uh, inebriated state everyone was in at the time, including the sight of his comrades injured and charged comments against his Squad, I can understand why he acted the way he did.”
The Captain Commander appraised you under a weighted stare which made you gulp heavily.
“You have an admirable track record, Sixth Seat Y/L/N.”
What? You blinked, not knowing how to respond. He knew about you. Well, of fucking course he did. He couldn't have summoned you here with no knowledge of who you were. But being referred to by him unnerved you.
“Your account for the event of New Years Eve is very diplomatic.” He continued. “If I go off on what you have told me, I am left with no one to blame this whole situation on. It seems this will just be written off as an unfortunate accident.”
You nearly bawled.
The Captain General closed the file in front of him, leaning back and placing his chin on his bony knuckles. His eyes fell shut, yet you felt he was closely watching your every move.
“You may leave. And inform everyone that they will receive a written warning for their involvement. You will receive a letter too, but of a different nature.”
You nodded and bowed instantly, turning around to walk out of the office. When the door shut behind you, you choked on a gasp and keeled forward, resting your hands on shaky knees. Fuck. Fuck. That was so intense you could cry. You would cry, actually. The tears were coming on. You sniffled.
Someone cleared their throat and your head shot up, looking at the Shinigami who had led you here. He gave you a look that told you he knew how you felt, before gesturing you to follow him out.
On numb, trembling legs, you walked out of the Squad 1 barracks, immediately being greeted by all the parties in question. Ikkaku,Yumichika and Renji crowded you, looking at you with hopeful eyes. You looked at the half bandaged and swollen faces in front of you and felt the horrifying urge to laugh.
“You all will get an official warning. No lasting consequences.” You managed to choke out.
The air that lifted at your words left behind an atmosphere so light it nearly made you collapse, you swayed a little as you sat down on the bench, watching Renji collapse in relief while Yumichika slumped into a wooden pillar. Ikkaku was looking up at the sky like he had just received redemption from the gods themselves. You held back more laughter.
Captain Zaraki let out a heavy sigh and stretched, patting you on the head with a heavy hand in his show of thanks before shuffling off, hands deep in his pockets. Captain Kuchiki sat next to you on the bench smoothly, staring at his Lieutenant with disdain.
“I must thank you.” He said, not looking at you. “I was convinced this would end poorly. You have surprised me, Sixth Seat Y/L/N. And I assume you surprised the Captain General too. I have not known him to be lenient in the years I have worked in the Gotei 13.”
You stared at the Captain as he got up once again, each move as pristine as the last. He walked over to Renji and let out a pained breath at the sight of his Lieutenant.
“Stand, Renji. You will still face the punishment I have set for you.” He stated simply before turning to walk away.
“Yes, Captain.” Renji’s voice was small and muffled. The corner of your lip twitched.
Yumichika sidled over to where you sat, tears in his one visible eye.
“I love you.” He breathed, making you snort.
“I want you to stay as far away from me as possible from now on.” You stood up, feeling better now after seeing the relief your friends felt. You were of course, being dramatic. But you were sincerely so drained you wouldn’t mind sleeping for a week.
And sleep you did. In fact, you had completely forgotten the Captain General’s words until the next morning, when a Shinigami showed up at your barracks with a letter in his hand. You stared at it in confusion until you saw the name of the addressor on the envelope. Your eyes widened and your heart fell out of your ass as you remembered the words.
“You will receive a letter too, but of a different nature.”
With trembling fingers, you tore through the paper, frantic eyes trying to make sense of what you were reading. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
“What the fuck is a Human Resources Department?”
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A/N: Should i make this into a series? Im contemplating it. Pls let me know!
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pokechbi · 9 months
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Hi! i love your post so much🫶 i was wondering if you could make a head canon on how 141 and konig would comfort their plus size SO if they were feeling self-conscious?
only if you’re up to it!!
Keep writing..it’s so good:))
Hi Anon! TYSM for the ask <3 I love to hear that you enjoy my writing :') makes me feel all giddy hehe :)) This was such a good request, I actually would like to make it a bit longer! I've got so many ideas for this <3 LMK if you want me to add the rest of the team ;) I hope this one met your expectations :)
In Your Skin
TF141 & Konig comfort plus size (fem) reader
NSFW, MDNI !!! (yk i had to add some seggsy time, what can i say)
CW: Body image issues
Fem anatomy used
WC: 1.5K
As always, enjoy loves!
Simon Ghost Riley
Will start off gently comforting you, caressing your body and leaving kisses & hickies on every inch of you. He'll make you keep eye contact as he does this, squeezing and worshipping every single part of you. He'll also make you repeat after him, slurring out which parts of you he adores most and why.
"I love your plump little belly, wanna know why?" He'll say, sloppily kissing you up and down, landing on your underbelly, biting the sensitive flesh like it's his last meal. "Gotta have something to hold onto while I'm fuckin' 'ya, right love?"
"God, you know how I adore those thick fuckin' hips and ass of yours. How they jiggle against my cock while I pound that wet little cunt between your legs." He'll say, leaving bite marks all over your hips.
"My my, and look at those sweet, thick thighs. How can I not love 'em. How they wrap around my head as I lick your sweet pussy out. I'd die happily between those thighs."
And when he's finished making you repeat every single word, he'll fuck you so good that you forget your own name, as punishment for daring to insult what's his.
John Soap MacTavish
Soap is such a gentle lover. After all, he's just a big softie for you. When you talk bad about your weight, his heart can't help but break and send a jolt of pain through his core. He knew there wasn't much he can do besides show you just how goddamn beautiful you were.
"Oh, lass. That's not true. And if anyone has anything different to say, I'll disembowel them. How's that sound, love" His Scottish accent was enough to lift your spirits, taking you out of the funk that had been plaguing your mind about your body. He won't stop until you're smiling, even if he has to ruthlessly tickle you until you piss yourself.
He'll then carry you to the bed as if you weighed nothing, slowly undressing you and worshipping every inch of skin on your body. He'll make you keep your hands on him, slurring out things he adored about your curvy body. He could be rough when he wanted to, but when you were like this, he wanted nothing more than to handle you like a flower and nourish your spirits.
At times like this, he couldn't care less for pleasuring himself. Sure, your body made him want to empty his balls on every part of you, but he prioritized your pleasure when it came down to it. He knows you're too shy to ask, so he'll do any and everything he can think of that would make you feel good.
If you ever refuse his lovings, he'll keep pressing and do the things that make you weak in the knees until you accept. Your self consciousness never bypassed him, and he would never think to leave you alone when you were like this. He'll make you sit in front of him, naked, and force you to say everything you love about yourself and why. And God forbid you dare to refuse, he'll bend you over his knee and spank you until you do it.
"Good puppy. That wasn't so hard now, was it?"
Captain John Price
Price has a zero-tolerance policy for you saying anything remotely self-deprecative. When you start to talk about hating your body, he'll stop it right in it's tracks and put you in your place. He was usually a laid back kind of man, but you were his. And God help anyone who disrespected what belonged to him.
Price would do whatever he could to make you feel confident again, and that included submitting to you completely. He'd order you the sexiest lingerie he could find, something dark, powerful. He wanted you to feel like the goddess you were, even if it meant letting you do what you pleased to him while he sat back and enjoyed it.
He'll set aside a night off from his duties to make his way to you, letting you tie him up while you did whatever it is that made you happy. He let you dominate him, edge him, wrapping himself around your finger as you embraced your femininity.
And once you were yourself again, completely confident in your body once more, he'll put you back in your place as his woman. He'll eat your pussy for nearly an hour, overstimulating you to the point of tears. He'll bend you over and fuck you afterwards, not giving you a chance to breathe as he pounds into your very core. And once he was done fucking you, he'll make you get on your knees and fuck your face until you were amounted to nothing but a slobbering, crying, cum drunk overstimulated mess under him.
And during your aftercare, he'll reassure you that you're his, and he'll never get it up for anyone else but you. He'll caress you, make you embrace every part of yourself. He'll touch you gently, making sure you knew that you were his very own goddess.
Kyle Gaz Garrick
The first time he had ever learned about your self-image issues, his jaw hung open in shock. This man had seen some things on the battlefield, but hearing you speak such untrue things about yourself took the cake. He spent some time thinking about how to approach the situation, not knowing how to handle you at such a fragile time.
So he did the only thing he knew would never fail him. He took you by the jaw, staring into your eyes as you cried out against his face.
"Kyle! You're hurting me!" You whine, the lie rolling off your tongue. You liked it, and he knew you did. You liked when he roughed you up, sending a familiar wetness to accumulate between your thighs. He'll push you around, your back up against the wall as he slipped his hand under your clothes. He breathed heavily as he lifted you up, grabbing at your body and molding your flesh to his hand.
"You hate your body so much you'll cry, huh? Apologize, or I'll fuck you so deep and so hard, you'll have something to cry about." He demanded. You nodded your head, slurring out apologies, your voice shaky with everything ranging from fear to arousal.
Once he felt that you were regretful about your words to yourself, he'll take a more gentler approach, whispering the things he loved about you and why. He could do this for hours, so he does. He'll lull you into a deep relaxation as he runs his hands all over your body, playfully pinching you and tickling you.
He'll start from the hairs on your head, and ending at the color of your cute, painted toes, leaving gentle kisses in his wake. You found yourself becoming more confident in yourself, slowly learning to love every part of you as much as he did.
Konig
There was no getting past Konig when you felt that familiar bubbling of body image issues in your head. You hinted at it slightly, trying to fish compliments from him. He instantly knew what you were doing, since he wasn't far behind you. He'd dealt with hating himself before, specifically his damning size. So he knew exactly what you meant when you were hinting at these things.
He'd waste no time in throwing you over his shoulder, spanking your ass as he carried you to whatever flat surface he could bend you over. You could say plenty things about yourself, but nothing struck a nerve in him more than when you spoke badly about your body, or weight. He knew what it was like to hate himself, to avoid mirrors and eye contact in hopes he could turn himself invisible to the world.
"I'm not going to sit back and listen to this, liebe" He says frustrated, running his hands along your body, kneeling in front of you and kissing your skin.
He'll do anything in his power to make you feel good again. And that included staying on his knees in front of you, begging you to love yourself again. When he did this, you couldn't help but tear up at the sight. The biggest man you'd ever seen, on his knees on the brink of tears because you called yourself bad names.
You'd caress his head in your arms, promising him to love yourself, to let go of those toxic thoughts that kept you from being your best self. And after he'd determine your words truthful and genuine, he'd stay on his knees, throwing your leg over his shoulder. He'll take his frustration out on your cunt, spitting and slapping and sucking all he can, making you cum and squirt and cry so many times, you forget why you were crying in the first place.
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lilacxquartz · 10 days
Text
Please, Don’t Go | One Shot
Fem!Reader x Yandere Shoko Ieiri
About:
Shoko has lost almost everyone close to her, so when you turn up half dead in the medical bay, she decides that she wants to keep you forever. Once she fixes you up, of course.
Tags/themes:
Mild yandere, she’s very protective. Oral sex, everything is consensual. Basically porn/smut with a little plot. Slight warning for light violence, but it was to set up the scene. Fem!Reader x fem!character.
Word count: 3k
***
“This is fucked up.” You said as you leaned against the rails, huffing out a puff of smoke—your eyes bitterly staring off into the distance.
“Right.” Shoko agreed, lighting up her own stick as she joined you. Her arm brushed against your shoulder, offering idle comfort as you both surrendered your gaze of the fiery red sky.
At least you were getting one last sunset out of tonight, before you’d have to assist on the mission. You didn’t want to go, you weren’t strong at all. But you were called in to fulfil your duty and you had zero rights to refuse.
“Think I got a chance at all?” You sighed, throwing the cigarette to the ground and rubbing it into the concrete with your shoe.
“I want to say you do,” she sighed, her demeanour stiffening just a little, she was tense and it showed, despite being neutral in the way she carried herself—her uncertainty was finally slipping through the cracks, “but who really knows.”
“Encouraging.” Your response was sarcastic and you smiled, but you swallowed down dread as you did so. Your eyes watered just a little as you felt dizzied from the prospect.
Fighting a special grade cursed spirit? You didn’t stand a chance at all. Your presence to the scene was likely just fodder; a distraction to keep it at bay for a split second as those who could hold their ground on the battlefield scrambled to form a plan to contain it.
You felt sickness rise within you next, some type of festering nausea that swelled within your core. Your head hurt as you struggled to retain focus.
You really didn’t want to go.
You wanted to live.
“If you’re able to, try to survive at least a little.” Shoko spoke up after a painful moment of silence.
“Hm?” You hummed, suddenly grounding yourself.
“I can put you back together, I think, if you manage to keep your critical areas in tact,” she said, her voice ripe with care, “I’d really hate to lose another friend again. It’s just so… lonely.”
“I mean, I’ll try?” You half scoffed, half laughed. You didn’t want to die for certain, you’d do your best to be one of the lucky few who would only meet at the verge of death and not at their final end.
“Good.” She said in a somewhat scolding tone. “You’d better.”
***
By the time you got to the scene, everything was more or less in shambles.
You managed to make it through the waves of the dead, leading a trail as to where you had to go like a matted pile of flesh, blood and bone. You sighed as you knew that you were likely the next in line to be paved into that ill-fated road, your body shuddering as you approached a presence that you could even bear to witness.
It saw you from the very moment you entered the scene, a mile or two away. You could feel its invading eyes linger and seep into your soul as the stare pierced you, as if warning you to not take a step closer lest your life would end.
You dared approach it anyway, understanding your duty to fulfil as a sorcerer. Even if you were to topple and succumb immediately, then that had to be done—your life was only mere, slight in comparison to the others that you’d have to save in the surrounding area.
You thought back to Shoko’s request.
To your promise.
You’ll try to drag this one out, to buy the minds plotting for victory some time, but you’d also try to not meet your immediate end if you could help it. You didn’t want to leave her entirely and utterly alone, because whether or not she saw you as what you saw her back as, it felt all simply too cruel to condemn her to such a twisted fate.
The special grade taunted you from the moment you faced it, its eyes eluding contempt mocking you as it locked its sight onto your body. It was objectifying almost, his mouth—drooling, salivating at the sight; you felt hunted, like a deer walking into the belly of the beast rather than towards the forested horizon that promised safe escape.
Its voice deep and trembling, echoing within your body’s core as his words shook you, you could feel it vibrate against your throat as your skin prickled with goosebumps, enveloping your very being.
What happened next was quick—brief, sudden and swiftly done, you weren’t even properly conscious to bear witness to the horrors done unto you within the limited amount of time that you had. All you could understand was that you were standing at one point, then smeared against the asphalt the next.
Your body burned and it ached, bones stuck in unnatural places, bending as though to just barely snap, kept in by pure miracle alone. Your eyes felt dry, as if sand filled your waterline, to even blink, feeling as though you’d crumble.
It was a waiting game to bleed out, to wait for death to come and claim you. Your eyes darkened, your body numbed.
Your attempt didn’t even make a dent, but it wasn’t in vain.
You did your part, now it was up to everyone else.
***
You awoke some time later in a bed, so warm and plush and comforting—was this a hallucination? Perhaps your mind was allowing you to live out your final moments in a dream, how nice of it to do so, if it was truly that.
You felt everything you could, the smell of clean laundry and the sensation of cool air wisp against your raw skin, enveloping it with comfort. You laid against soft linen, hearing the gentle hum of someone familiar in the background, the smell of tea drifting to your senses as the comfort continued to build.
You pinched yourself to ensure this was real and much to your surprise, it indeed seemed to be. Every feeling was correct and your body was put back together, but how—and why were you back so soon? Were you really back so soon?
Your eyes drifted around the room again, scrolling from side to side as you tried to figure out where you were. You weren’t a corpse rotting outside against the pavement, but you weren’t quite back at the campus either.
This felt personal. From the scent of incense burning by the window, velvet smoke drifting into your nostrils as the wind carried the scent inside. Your body was intact, fingers clenching and brushing at the warm bedding that your body laid upon.
Through the door entered a familiar face; her eyes so worn and tired, dusty hues of exhaustion settling on her face. Shoko’s complexion wrinkled a little, the extensive work she put through to keep you in one piece likely taking a huge hit out of her very being.
“I was beginning to think you wouldn’t wake up after a while.” She sighed, her hip dipping against the frame of the door. Her fingers latched onto the handle.
Just how long has she spent doing this?
“How long was I out for?” You croaked, your own voice surprising you. You sounded so stiff, so tense. Your words barely made it out of your throat.
“A week, almost.” She said, walking inside of the room and scanning your body on the bed. The way that she did so seemed expertly crafted, as if studying her own handiwork with fixing you back together.
Her eyes seemed dark though, there was something beyond that caring gaze, something not exactly sinister but not quite good either. It was all surely subtle though as she soon corrected her stance, relaxing her posture as she sat along the edge of the bed.
Her hand trailed over to you as you initially thought it was out of affection, only for her to tighten something that looped around your arms instead. Your eyes snapped to the confines she placed around you, realising that your ankles were bound too.
How did you not notice this?
You supposed that you were out of it when waking up. Your mind still wasn’t in a correct place.
“Hey…” You softly said, your mind finally catching up now that you didn’t feel so groggy.
“Don’t struggle,” she hushed you, her fingertips now dancing against your lips as though to silence you, “please, don’t struggle for me.”
“This your idea of being funny, then?” You asked, trying to keep things light in case that this was all some strange joke.
“It’s my idea of keeping you safe, be grateful.” She sighed, her body leaning in over yours as though to find comfort in your frame, you groaned just a little as you didn’t quite feel entirely healthy just yet.
“You’re serious?” You frowned in response instead, feeling her painful comfort as she refused to budge. You tugged along at the confines, finding that they were oddly strict and your body felt a little too weak to protest properly.
“Everyone just keeps dying. Do you know just how close you were to following them?” She simply asked, sitting back up once again. She wasn’t joking as much as usual, her words carrying extra weight as she stared you down with those tired eyes.
“But you’ve fixed me, so I won’t go anywhere-“
“Correct, you’re not going anywhere, but I’ve also done something stupid. Something I maybe shouldn’t have.” She said as her expression tightened, a look of pure regret.
“And what’s that?”
“You’re categorised as killed in action, I put the paperwork through to confirm it. You won’t be returning.”
“You did what?” Your tone shifted to something confused, you didn’t understand where this was going any longer.
Your mind reversed just a few seconds back—you focused on something small she just told you, it stuck out so painfully sore in the slew of words she otherwise fed you:
(You’re not going anywhere.)
You were supposedly marked off to be dead.
Her face and the way she looked so stiff told you that she was being serious, but even then, you refused to register it as such, maybe this was all elaborate. It wouldn’t be unlike her to be so deadpan and scarily authentic just for her to tell you that it was a joke all along—you begged for her to tell you it was one after all.
But the punchline never came.
“I don’t want you to go out there again and get killed.” She defended, immediately jumping on the backpedal.
“So you told them I died so that I wouldn’t go back?” Your voice raised a little.
“You were dead on the table when they sent an assistant, or close to it. Then I just… patched you up on my own terms once they were gone. Everyone’s too busy for a proper funeral anyway.”
“Shoko…” You sighed, your head falling back flat against the pillow. Your eyes glued to the ceiling above you as you processed her insanity.
“You’re not leaving me,” her tone darkened, her voice carrying something spiteful almost—you’ve never heard her speak this way, “you won’t be like them, you won’t die and leave me here all alone—but look, I’ll keep you safe.”
“And what about when I inevitably walk out of here alive?” You sighed.
“You won’t.” She hushed you. “You’ll be alive, I mean, obviously… but, you won’t be leaving.”
“So, your plan is to keep me inside forever then or what?”
“If I have to.” She seemed to conclude that this was it anyway, based on how she promptly sat up and got up to walk back out of the door.
“Shoko.” You persisted, feeling still weak from the battle, your body aching for recovery. Thankful that she brought you back, but otherwise wary of what she kept promising you.
“I’m bringing you something to help you recover, but only once, so be good for me and actually eat up.” She said, demanded almost. Her command was laced with utter care, her will begging for you to comply and live for her sake, if barely your own.
She came back after that moment, her hands cradling a tray as she slid it over to you in silence as you struggled to sit up to take it on. On it was a cup of steaming tea and some okayu to help you recover.
You weren’t all that fond of rice porridge, but you did suppose that you were her patient and you needed to eat something simple, something healing.
You ate it as you were told, your body yearning to recover as you did so. The warmth of everything settling in your stomach, keeping you warm and comforted and satiated to boot.
Her weary eyes watched you as you ate, as though relaxing at the sight of you replenishing your health. She held against your side of the bed, her eyes slowly closing as you finished up your meal—suddenly fluttering open when her ears met with silence, the sign of you completing your meal.
“Thank you.” You said, unsure what to say.
She didn’t respond, yawning as she carried the dishes out. You could hear her back meet the surface of the door, the dishes clanging against the tray as she settled against the floor, as though grounding herself right outside the room.
This wasn’t like her… to struggle at the sight of you. There wasn’t a single unserious thing about her going on for once and it was brutally striking to see.
Maybe you did need a break though.
Maybe you could give in for just a little bit.
Perhaps she would even heal too.
(But she wouldn’t. She refused to.)
***
It took about another month of soft exchanges between you and her gently protesting for your freedom. She’d let you use her shower—bathroom. She’d let you breathe fresh air on her balcony, to hold your hand when you’d stumble just a little, whatever damage that special grade did seemed to be permanent.
Something not even her reverse cursed technique could fix.
“You’re almost better,” she would say, monitoring your progress through it all, logging every single thing she possibly could to hurry up your recover, “but you’re still staying with me.”
“You’re never letting me go?” You would then ask, warming up to it just a little. You almost wanted her to promise you it, your mind surrendering to her will.
Her responses would be similarly rooted along the same vein, it would be either a never or some other long and distant time before she could let you out of her sight, always returning you to your confines when she had to go somewhere.
The aftermath of the fight left you permanently weakened, or at least that’s a state you assumed you took on after it—your mind lingered at the possibility that this was done on purpose, but that idea bordered on insanity so you let it go.
(Unless?)
You’d sleep with tight restrictions, the concept of freedom beyond the packed little flat a slowly fading pipe dream. She would often be back with takeaway or some booze, ready to share something familiar and comforting with you as you would slowly get better and better.
You’d watch movies with her on the sofa, be with her as she filled out even more paperwork for both of your slowly dying out allies, you’d sit there in painful silence as if to reminisce about the company that was no longer existent.
But as you got better, all your good health did was sicken her—you quickly understood it as obsession, a burning innate desire to keep your life ongoing and close.
Today was a day that Shoko finally allowed you a gentle freedom, the confines finally releasing from your slumber as she now felt confident with your loyalty.
“You’re staying for me, aren’t you?” She purred, her hands tracing lines against your wrist, leaving behind affectionate shivers.
“I suppose.” You finally warmed up.
“If you leave me like that again though, I’d just get you back in that little state.”
The threat was muffled as she had promised you such a thing in a hushed whisper. Just loud enough for it to register with you, but quiet enough for it to slip by you had you not been paying attention.
Your hunch was slowly being proven correct, even if she didn’t admit it directly to you. Your weakened state was likely a fabrication, an attempt of deception and dependency.
But you somehow didn’t mind.
The idea grew on you and you were tired of just barely surviving each and every single time. Whether it was cowardice to think in such a way or not, you didn’t quite care anymore.
“I won’t leave.” You promised her and slowly, her calmer and more carefree side seemed to show once more.
“Yeah?” Her tired voice asked.
“Of course not.”
“You’d better not.”
The silence that brewed beyond that point was almost loud, somehow. Your breathing meshed with her own as her tired eyes found comfort in your own—your state relaxed her, a piece of company that wouldn’t succumb to the unforgiving lifestyle you’d both found yourselves entangled in.
“So, let me take care of you,” Shoko said after a while, her voice suddenly relaxed once again, just like how she used to be before work got the better of her, “let me make you mine.”
You didn’t reject her this time, unlike the first time that you did so many years ago. You felt some sort of dependency linger, wanting for her to care for you and to give into her emotional demand.
After seeing near death so clearly, you wanted for her to promise you life again and again.
As such, you found your body feeling heavy as it relaxed, your heart rate fluttering as she crept closer, her soft hands pressing their palms and sweeping over your face, cupping your cheeks as her lips slowly moved towards your own.
She then connected the kiss, leaving an aftertaste of bitter coffee as she continued to press herself down, your tongue reacting to her own as it entered your mouth, pushing it from side to side as you exchanged a kiss.
Slowly, her hands brushed down your body, to your shoulders, neck and chest; her feel was intricate as the touch leftover lingered on areas you had a positive reaction on—nothing was forced, you wanted this, you wanted her back. Especially right now.
For her to comfort you, to soothe you.
Her lips trailed down as her hands explored your body, planting a path of kisses down your neck and past the middle point of your chest. Slowly, her hands slid down to your hips, her mouth following in pursuit as she made it past your stomach, down to your hip line and then just beyond.
“You’ll let me take care of you forever.” She said, not even asked. It was a demand.
You nodded as your breath shuddered, her eyes locking with your own as she received unspoken confirmation that it was okay for her to continue.
In her pursuit, she drew the fabric of your shorts off and slid your underwear off until you were completely bare. Her eyes scrolled around your sex, taking in the sight of you delicately and then drifted back towards your face, just as if to give you a heads up in advance—that this was going to happen, that she would make you feel good if she could help it.
Silence followed as yet another inaudible agreement was forged; her fingers parted your folds as her face pressed inwards, the feeling of her tongue immediately seeking out and meeting with your clit. The muscle flicked and circled the nub as you felt your thighs tighten, repeating only motions that drove out reactions. Slowly but surely, she got both a taste of you—and what you liked.
Your back arched in the bed as the pleasuring sensation began to build, feeling a rising wave of bliss that tingled within your stomach and finalised at a breaking point—your breathing shallow, your voice emitting higher pitched gasps caught on and off in the back of your throat.
Your hips rolled against her tongue with rising pressure, her hands holding against the sides of your thighs as she continued to feverishly suck on your clit—alternating between that and teasing the now swollen bud, sending you over the edge if she could help it.
The bedsheets tore as your nails clawed against them, ripping fabric in the heat of the moment—your body slowly beginning to tremble beyond a controllable limit.
You continued to rock on her tongue, grinding on pure instinct alone as the rising sensation now begged for violent release; you couldn’t hold yourself in any longer as your hands sought comfort as she offered you her own, interlocking your fingers into place as you squeezed—almost, almost—!
Shoko was nearly out of breath too as she brought you over your limit, your insides coiling as your peak neared its end, it was sudden and intense as the pressure reached its threshold and finally, your body succumbed to a final release.
Your breathing stifled, sharp breaths cutting through your lungs as the waves finally rolled through. Your inner legs tingled as your body finally gave permission for an end to manifest, toes curling and your grip relaxing, your mind blanking into bliss.
It was over—yet you felt it all linger after, your breath slowly coming back to you as you let the pleasure ride out a final time.
Her fingers trailed towards your warmth to play with you after, although gently as sheer delight formed in her eyes as she felt just how wet you were and just for her. She swirled two fingers inside as she finally pulled back and laid her head just outside your thighs.
It didn’t take her long to climb on top of you after, using your body as a source of comfort, making her bed right on your frame.
“You’re mine forever,” she whispered as she tightened her hold around you, her tired voice letting out one final yawn, concluding her intentions, “I’m never letting you go.”
It was then that you didn’t mind all of a sudden.
You wanted to stay, after all.
With her. For her.
94 notes · View notes
frozenjokes · 2 months
Text
Toys Like Tape Measures (And A Brand New Splint!)
tw for drugging, though only in the medical sense. however, because of the language barrier, Mumbo doesn’t understand what’s happening really, so if that makes you uncomfortable I would skip
“Alright, so here’s the deal,” Mumbo heard Scar before he even reached the clearing, and he couldn’t be more excited. Scar was back, (and Grian was there too) he was finally back after being gone all week! “Today we’re going to fix that splint- ope- don’t make that face at me yet, let me explain, let me explain. I promise it will be 100% safe.”
“So many things- so many things, Scar, but you are not a doctor, much less a veterinarian- how do you even think this is going to work? Mumbo won’t even let us touch him, what makes you think anything about this will be safe?”
“I’ve been doing a lot of research, Grian! I’ve talked to every large animal vet I know, and a few fish people as well! This big ol’ bag on my back you’ve been nagging me about has everything we’ll need! Well, except the fish. You’re going to have to catch a few of those.”
“Scar! Fishing in this spot isn’t even very good and you know it, if you needed fish, why wouldn’t you bring any.”
“Forgot.”
There was a small silence before the two humans burst into the clearing, climbing through the path they’d ended up making through the brush by walking through so many times. Mumbo surfaced to greet them, though they were still preoccupied with each other.
“Of course,” Grian groaned, sighing as he threw down his bag, “Guess I’ll get to it then.”
“That’s the spirit!” Scar beamed, patting the other human hard on the back, who made a soft oof sound before scuttling away, moving to hide its face from Scar as it turned a reddish color. Odd. Usually Grian would yell at Scar for doing something like that, rightfully so (Mumbo still didn’t understand why Scar would randomly hit his friend), but instead Grian was far more meek. Had something happened? Maybe since Scar was hurt, Grian was taking a more passive role than normal. Mermaids were gentler with sick friends as well, and Mumbo knew quite well he could get away with more when he was unwell.
But it was good to see Scar looking healthy. His shoulder was still bandaged, visible under his shirt, but he couldn’t be feeling too badly given his bright demeanor, and his movement didn’t seem to be impaired at all. Thank goodness.
If it was even possible, Scar brightened further when he spotted Mumbo, happily throwing off unnecessary clothes before hopping right into the water, showing absolutely zero signs of fear. Oh, that was a weight off Mumbo’s back; he didn’t even realize how worried he was about Scar being afraid of him until now, until Scar very clearly wasn’t. Good, good..
Mumbo met Scar in the shallows, deep enough that he could keep his tail from dragging on the sand, but shallow enough where he could navigate with his hands; he was in near constant pain even with a week to recover, and while slow, pulling himself along the bottom with his hands caused the least agony on his tail. His splint was sufficiently broken now, only getting more uncomfortable with every passing day. At this point, Mumbo was just waiting for it to fall off; trying to figure out how it was attached was far too painful, though he had tried briefly a couple of times (with little success).
“Hello, Mumbo!” Scar greeted him, “I’ve got something you’re going to like. I’m pretty sure you like human stuff, so you’ll get a kick out of this.” Scar held up a small silver object, round, but not quite circular. Mumbo moved to get a closer look, though he couldn’t lift himself very far out of the water, so Scar crouched down to get it closer. “Tape measure.”
Mumbo squinted. “What.”
“Tape measure.” Huh. Weird word. Usually human words weren’t that long, though, maybe Mumbo had only learned the shorter ones. Was this a human tool? Mumbo attempted to snatch it, but Scar was faster, jumping back with a surprised look on his face. On his perch, Grian laughed.
“I told you! I told you he’d try to take that, and you won’t be getting it back.”
“Well he can have it if he wants, but not before I’m done!” Scar huffed, then turned back to Mumbo, speaking sternly, “No.” Mumbo stared, unamused. He could have guessed Scar didn’t want him to have its human tool, that didn’t change the fact that he was going to take it.
“Scar,” he tried, reaching out a hand a little slower. Maybe it wouldn’t see? ‘Your human object. Give me.’ he continued in a whistle due to the lack of human words, but Scar only huffed, an incredulous smile across its face.
“No!” Scar repeated a tad more forcefully, but Mumbo could see the smile on his face, he knew well enough he could keep trying. Mumbo moved a little forward, hoping to get within reach, but Scar stepped back, then back again, rolling his eyes, “You’re going to make measuring you really difficult, Mumbo.”
“Yeah,” Grian said from across the way, a small laugh in his tone, “I’d say I’ve got plenty of time to catch something.”
“You will, but this is not the reason!” Scar yelled back, pointing an accusatory finger, but the smile never left Scar’s face, and soon his focus was squarely back on Mumbo (who definitely hadn’t tried to snatch at the device while it was distracted).
The tool made a soft whirring sound as Scar pulled on one end, a flat yellow line appearing from inside the device, then snapping back when Scar let go. Whoa. What was that? What was the purpose? Scar moved a little bit closer, pulling the yellow line further this time, but when Mumbo managed to touch it, the line snapped back into the silver device with a sharp crack. Huh. Was it alive? Maybe it was shy? It looked a little bit like a snail..
“What.” Mumbo said, hoping for more information, but Scar only put his hands on his hips, making a show of his annoyance.
“I can’t show you if you keep trying to take it from me!” Nonsense. Guess Mumbo would just have to take it to figure it out for himself.
The next thirty minutes was an odd dance of Scar struggling to keep his distance while also trying to line up the tape measure with Mumbo’s body, and Mumbo would be lying if he said he wasn’t enjoying the game. The tape measure hurt if it snapped back on Mumbo’s hand, but if anything, that only made the game more exciting. Even with the limited use of his tail, he found himself splashing far more than usual, a certain recklessness brought about only by play. He didn’t even want the tape measure anymore (lie), he just wanted to keep up the game. Scar did not like the game as much, less and less as more time passed, but Grian seemed amused at least, occasionally looking over to laugh when Scar stumbled or outright fell over.
“I could use a little help here if you don’t mind!” Scar called, and Grian laughed again, the sound coming out more like a cackle.
“I thought you had it handled? You kept insisting you were fine, what changed?”
“He just won’t stop moving! Listen, I’ve measured plenty of animals, but they don’t usually have hands! He’s being impossible- he knows I’m not trying to hurt him and he knows I need him to stay still and he’s just not listening! On purpose! This was supposed to be easy!”
“He looks like he’s having fun, I wouldn’t want to rain on his parade.”
“Grian! Help me!” Scar cut himself off with a yelp as Mumbo lunged for the tape measure, but he didn’t get far with his limited mobility, so Scar stepped easily out of reach. He was lucky Mumbo couldn’t use his tail, lucky. With another short laugh, Grian got up from where he was fishing, making his way gingerly off the rocks and giggling as he went before stepping into the water as well. Ah, so another challenger joins the fray!
Though, with Grian holding one side of the yellow line, Mumbo couldn’t quite grab at it anymore, the whole thing bending and snapping like it might break in two if Mumbo wasn’t careful. And that wouldn’t do, no no, how could he figure out its purpose if it was broken?
Instead, he stilled so he could watch instead- wow the line went out so far! How much could fit in there? How far could it go? Mumbo moved to follow the humans’ movement, but they seemed to want to pull the line the length of Mumbo’s tail, chirping nonsense to each other the entire time. At least Scar looked excited; it was always nice when Scar was happy, nice enough that Mumbo didn’t mind all that much that their game was effectively over. Mumbo didn’t love how close they were getting, but a small flash of his teeth was enough to get Grian’s attention, who communicated to Scar in Mumbo’s stead.
It wasn’t very long before the two of them were satisfied though, Grian easing the yellow line back into the tape measure. Mumbo took his chance, lunging as quickly as his impaired mobility would allow, but Scar surprised him by turning around instead of jumping away like normal. While Mumbo was scrambling to keep himself from running face first into Scar’s legs, the human tossed him the tape measure, the thing plopping heavily into the water. Mumbo gaped for a moment before grabbing it, but when he resurfaced, Scar was walking toward the shore, chatting away with Grian like the tape measure didn’t mean anything at all. Well.. okay.
No matter! Mumbo had a new toy, and first he wanted to know just how long this yellow line was. The answer was very long. Mumbo lodged one end under a rock and swam as far as the line would allow, and while he was quite impressed with the length, he was even more excited when he let go of the metal base, the whole thing shooting back in the other direction. Yes! Yes! Mumbo did the same thing at least seven more times before getting a little bored, then experimented with the tape measure above the water, where it snapped back much faster. The height of his fun was setting the end of the yellow line under a rock on the surface, bringing metal end to the other side of the cove, then letting go and watching the thing skirt across the water, splashing all the way. He was relatively sure he made some sort of trill or other noise in his excitement, as Scar and Grian’s laughing caught his attention. Mumbo cringed a little, suddenly very aware of their eyes on him, but his embarrassment was short lived, outweighed by the joy of funny human trinket.
Mumbo would have spent the rest of the day playing with the tape measure, but something else caught his eye. Scar was working on something- no, he was making something. Mumbo had never seen a human make something before- not in the way Mumbo liked to do! Scar’s creative process looked very similar as well, which is to say, all the materials he brought were strewn all over the grass, wildly unorganized as he fiddled with different parts. Most of his materials were long metal rods, but there were also some leather looking pieces, and what looked like parts of white tubing as well. What was he up to?
Mumbo shimmied as close to the shore as his tail would allow, hoping to grab Scar’s attention. “What. What. What,” he said in human, hoping the extra emphasis would translate through the repeated words.
Scar looked up, clearly amused, but seemed to struggle with explaining, starting and stopping speaking several times before settling with, “For you.” Not very helpful, and Scar knew it, making a couple of vague gestures at Mumbo before giving up and going back to his project. Well.. that was fine. Mumbo would just have to watch.
Scar was mostly focused on the leather piece, positioning it in a circular way and winding the metal through to create a cage-looking structure. The leather was adjustable too, Scar fiddling with a buckle on the front to make the entire thing wider or smaller. Mumbo was particularly fascinated by the white pieces though, much flatter than the rods, which Scar only weaved through one side. Why? He tried to ask again what the human was doing, but was only offered the same non-answer.
“Oh!” Grian made a surprised noise from his place on the rocks, and Mumbo saw his line tighten. If only he was fast enough to snag whatever was on it off the hook, but alas, Grian was already reeling in a decent sized fish. Scar hopped to his feet and Grian let out a celebratory noise of his own; it was so cute how humans got so excited about every catch. Though, in all fairness, Mumbo would have been quite chuffed catching a fish that size, especially this hungry. Maybe if humans really didn’t eat the fish they caught, they’d be open to sharing.
Grian scooped the fish off the line with a net, maneuvering the hook out of its mouth before walking it back toward the shore to Scar, who cheered all the while.
“Right,” Grian said as he hit the sand, “You want to give this to him? I’m assuming you’re going to drug him or something.”
“That’s the plan. I was considering a tranquilizer, but I don’t want to make this experience traumatic or anything, and hauling a big ol’ rifle out here might put a damper on some of the trust we’ve established. Hopefully this way he’ll just be real relaxed, maybe even take a nice little nap.”
“You’re not trying to put him to sleep? What are you giving him?”
“Not necessarily, but I doubt he’ll be able to stay awake. Trust me when I say he won’t be in pain, definitely not. And I brought a cone, too, just in case he freaks. I came prepared, Grian, prepared I tell you. I’m no large animal vet, but you could say I’ve been quite involved in many a procedure.”
“Scar, what are you giving him?”
“Like.” Scar paused, tapping the smile on his lips, “A lot of morphine.”
“Morphine?”
“Works on fish. Mumbo’s big, he can handle it, and anyway, it’s the safest option for everyone involved. Are you worried about our friend, Grian?”
“I’m not- how did you even get morphine, Scar?”
“Scar’s not taking any more questions at this time, please call back later. In the meantime, hand me that fish so we can get this show on the road. I’ll stay with him as long as he needs me, but I’m not expecting anything to go wrong here. Still, the sooner we start, the better.” Scar got to his feet, taking the fish net from a gaping Grian and heading back to his bag. Mumbo couldn’t quite see what he was doing, but Grian followed quickly after, fretting the entire time. What, was something wrong with the fish? Scar didn’t seem to think so.
Maybe Grian hadn’t wanted Scar to give Mumbo his catch, but Scar did regardless. Mumbo was more than happy to accept the gift, only throwing Grian one mildly guilty look before devouring the whole thing. He didn’t feel very bad, not really; clearly the humans ate well enough, and given he was having a hard time hunting right now, this seemed fair.
Eating only served to brighten his mood, and with the slight weight off his chest, watching Scar continue working on his human device was all the more fun. Grian went back to fishing on his rock, but he was acting more anxious than normal, stealing glances toward Scar and Mumbo just about every time he cast his line. Though, it didn’t take very long for Mumbo to stop caring, far more intrigued by whatever Scar was up to. It was crazy how much better he was feeling; usually the joy of eating didn’t carry so far after a meal, but when Mumbo was this hungry..
And then it hit him; he wasn’t in pain. The lightness he was feeling was from the lack of hurting- oh that couldn’t be good. What kind of fish was that? He hadn’t even looked! Please say he hadn’t accidentally poisoned himself… Mumbo didn’t feel nauseous though. And if he’d poisoned himself, he imagined he’d be feeling a lot sicker. And he had so much energy! Anyone with this much energy wouldn’t be poisoned, that would be ridiculous! He should do something- go somewhere- hunt- he could do anything! … Nevermind.
Not in pain, no, but tired, goodness, maybe he was dying. Probably not. But maybe. Honestly, he didn’t care all that much. Scar was looking at him an awful lot now, though Mumbo wished he would focus on his invention instead so Mumbo could figure out what it was before he died. Hm.. It kind of looked a little bit like his splint, didn’t it?
The gentle touch of skin on scales. A presence around his neck, tight, mildly uncomfortable, but not enough for Mumbo to want to do anything about it. A crack, loud enough to frighten him, to open his eyes, but there was no pain, so it must not have been bone. Something was draped over his eyes, dark like home. It was nice. A couple of clicks told him of Forces, big and near and moving; he should probably swim away, but that’d be quite a bit of effort, wouldn’t it. Maybe another time.
His fins rose and fell with the presence and absence of touch. Not unpleasant. Not until they tried to lift him.
Pain like thorns lit his blood, everywhere, pain, pain- Some sort of noise escaped his throat, something animal, and he moved without coordination- it hurt, everything hurt now. Distantly he heard them, humans, why were humans here? Talking, they were talking nothing, repeating the same words again and again, “It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay.” Couldn’t they see he was in pain? Why weren’t they helping?
Too much time passed before his attackers released him, but wasn’t sitting in the water the same as before. It was awkward, unpleasant honestly, but he stopped struggling quickly. Too painful to move. Too much effort.
He wanted to curl up. Somewhere dark, somewhere enclosed and safe. Something hard stopped his movement. Guess that was that.
But maybe that was fine.
Whatever had been there was gone now. Nothing else was trying to hurt him. That was good. That was enough.
The humans were talking. They were loud, Mumbo could hear them, though his face burned just slightly, a dry feeling. Was he above the water? It didn’t much concern him.
“He’s still asleep, Scar.”
“That’s fine. Normal, even. He’s going to be fine; if he was going to have any bad reactions, I’m pretty sure we would have known by now. I’ve been keeping an eye on his breathing, and it’s stayed consistent this whole time. He’s okay.”
“You said four hours. It’s been five.”
“Yeah, for a human on a human dose. I also told you I don’t know exactly how it’ll work on a mermaid. I doubt anyone knows. I gave him quite a bit more than a human dose anyway, and I’m pretty sure he needed it. He was freaking out when we were trying to get the splint on.”
“I just don’t like the fact that we drugged him without being sure how he’d react.”
“I don’t know what else you wanted me to do, Grian. He was not going to let us touch him, and I don’t think there’s any world in which we could have explained what we were trying to accomplish. Tail injuries could be fatal for mermaids, we don’t know. How’s he supposed to eat if he can’t swim? It’s not like we can weigh him. This was the safest option.”
“You really think we couldn’t have explained it to him? He’s smart, Scar, he’s really observant.”
“I don’t know, I think there’s a chance. But what would happen if he got scared? Even a human might’ve panicked, even if they knew every detail about what we were doing. And you know how strong he is- I’ve still got bruises on my arms from where he grabbed me. He could have hurt himself or us completely by accident.”
A long silence. “I know.”
A longer silence.
“So when’d you change your tune?”
“What?”
“About Mumbo. Nearly every day two weeks ago you made sure to remind me how you were totally going to kill him and sell all his parts or whatever, but I haven’t heard a peep from you since Monday. Did you come out here without me and have some sorta spiritual experience or what?”
“I- no. Of course not. I’m still planning on doing that, I just decided I’d spare your feelings and stop talking about it.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yes! And anyway, with you paying me egregious prices for my fish, I’m not exactly hurting for money right now. So it’s fine. I’m not in any rush.”
“That’s good to know.”
“Stop- stop talking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you don’t believe me.”
“Well, Grian, that’s going to be a problem because you’re right, I don’t believe you.”
“I- how dare you! I am going to do it! I could do it right now even, but I won’t, and not because I don’t want to, but it wouldn’t be fair, not while he’s all drugged up.”
“I see.”
“Stop it!”
“I believe you, I believe you.”
“No you don’t!”
“Shhh,” Scar said, his voice dropping, “No fighting,” he trailed off, and the silence was charged with something new, something Mumbo picked up on even in his half-asleep state.
“No fighting,” Grian repeated softly, “He wouldn’t like that.”
“Mm,” Scar acknowledged him quietly, but spoke no more words, and neither did Grian. That, or Mumbo had just fallen asleep again. Possible, all things considered. That was okay.
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luvliewriting · 1 year
Text
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Their Love Language
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Imagine: What is their love lanuage?
Warnings: none
Note: did I miss a character you like? Feel free to request for me to do a part 2 for your favourites
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Arthur Morgan
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Giving Gifts
I've said it before and I'll say it again, this man loves giving any kind of gift to those he cares for. Whether it's a simple pebble he thought looked nice or the latest pocketwatch, just to be able to see the bright smile on your face when you receive these gifts is enough for him. This man is such a giver, anything he sees he'll grab just so you can give it to you and tell you that he thought of you. You have a "little" collection of all the stuff that Arthur has gotten you; pretty rocks, feathers, cigarette cars, shiny coins, etc. The list never ends. Anything that lets him see that beautiful smile on your face is enough for him.
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Dutch Van Der Linde
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Physical Touch
It's no secret that Dutch is a hands-on kind of guy, I mean hell he'll praise the ground you walk on in front of everyone, zero shame. Is the camp partying after a successful job? Sure as hell he's got an arm around your waist, maybe a kiss on your neck or two. He will happily swing you around in his arms in camp to his gramophone, anything that allows him to be physically connected to you is perfect for Dutch. His favourite though is early mornings in his cot with you curled up in his chest, your arm draped over his chest as he gets to pick up your wrist and leave a small kiss to it.
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Hosea Matthews
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Quality Time
Hosea isn't a material kind of guy, he doesn't want gifts or anything like that. A simple horse ride with you is enough for him, he likes just being in your prescense. He's a simple guy, anything that allows it just be you and him is just perfect. Whether it be going to a nice viewing spot so he can read to you while you lay your head on his lap or fishing at sunrise with him. He enjoy spending time with you, even if its in complete silence and you two aren't doing anything, just the fact he gets to enjoy your company is enough to make him feel like a young man again.
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John Marston
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Acts Of Service
I'm gonna be blunt, John isn't the most romantic guy alive. He'll put an effort sure but don't be surprised if he's not exactly prince charming. He does his best to be your dream man even when he feels like he's lacking so he's started taking up your chores around camp and asking if you had anything you needed or done. You didn't think much of it at first, you thought he was just doing a nice thing for you until you realised this was how he was showing his love for you. Don't get me wrong, John will do his best to be romantic physically don't worry, but he also enjoys getting to see you relax after a hard day not having to focus on any of your chores because he's already done them all for you
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Javier Escuella
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Quality Time
Javier is much like Hosea when it comes to showing his love and care for you, he doesn't want anything physical. I mean if you get him gifts and stuff, he's not gonna turn his nose up at it but he's more just enjoying you being there with him. Especially when he gets to play his guitar just for you? Oh the man will just melt. He has songs that he wrote that only you will ever hear, it's all the more romantic when he finds you humming one of them to yourself while you're doing your chores around camp. He enjoys being around his hermosa more than anything else in the world
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Charles Smith
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Words Of Affirmation
Sure Charles is a very private guy, it's not that he's embaressed about you; far from it, he's absolutely infatuated with you! When it's just you two, he'll shower you in compliments and words of affections when he dots your skin in kisses. If you ever feel self consious, he's the first to be on his knees complimenting and pointing out every little thing that he loves about you, how your blessed by the great spirit itself. Charles isn't exactly the same way in front of the rest of the camp (unless it's Arthur), he'll compliment you but he won't be as gushy, mainly just to avoid either of you getting teased or rude comments towards you by people like Micah who aren't exactly the most native respecting people.
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Sadie Adler
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Acts Of Service
We all know that Sadie is a blunt woman as well as not exactly hands on with people. Sure if you just need to be held, she's happy to provide her arms as your support but she won't just randomly grab onto you. Not that she doesn't love you, she loves you more than anything but she's just not like that you know? Instead much like John, she'll start taking up jobs for you. She most likely won't be doing your chores around camp since she believes those should be shared between you two but if you just need someone to vent to than she'll sit down and let you vent, scream, cry, anything you need. If you're too shy to go order a drink for example, she'll step up and get you a drink (not that you're paying because she refuses to let you ever pay for anything)
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Sean MacGuire
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Physical Touch
If he can have his hands on you he will. Especially around camp just to rub it in everyone's faces, he loves to show you off and will be your official hype man. His favourite thing is having you in his lap while he drinks and chats with his friends, placing a kiss every now and again to your shoulder. No one in camp is really tired of it, hey it gets Sean off of their backs since he's always following you around like a little puppy who got lost, your hand almost always in his. He can't sleep anymore unless you're with him, so if he's off on a long job or you're away from camp for a while, than guess what? Sean isn't sleeping and that's just a fact. He will pout like a child till he can see you again and have you back in his arms.
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Josiah Trelawny
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Receiving Gifts
Josiah is gone for many days at a time, you rarely ever know where he is. So when he would be gone on these week long no contact days, you started writing letters with little gifts attached to them such as pressed flowers or a shiny pebble or a card you found that you thought he'd like. You never knew where to send these letters, you just dropped them off at the post office asking if they ever saw Josiah that he was to earn these letters. You never knew exactly how he ever got these letters but everytime he returned, he had your gifts with him. He carried most of them around on his horse Silver Dollar along with a photo of you two, just as a reminder what he would be returning to when he came back to the camp.
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Bill Williamson
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Physical Touch
Bill is a big guy, so even if you're a big person, he will still love to crush you in his arms. He loves how he can just envelope you regardless of your size, plus he loves how safe he can make you feel in his arms. Nothing can get you while he's around, he won't ever let anything happen to you. He most likely won't do anything in front of other members of the gang because he's just more of a private guy. When it's just you and him though? He'll pick you up, he'll be loving up on you in his arms, anything that allows him to make you feel safe and loved in his hold.
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Thank you for reading, please like and reblog as it really does help me out
Taglist: @margofiore
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481 notes · View notes
quokkawritesarchive · 4 months
Text
ACE OF HEART — SEUNGMIN. CHAPTER 1
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⚾️ synopsis: new school year means new beginnings, right? you are a new student at prestigious seido high school with the goal to become the ace of the baseball team and win nationals. but to your surprise, some arrogant asshole kim seungmin is currently in the position of pitcher and ace of the team. how steel are your nerves and how long will it take you to steal his place?
pairing: seungmin x reader(afab) genre: baseball player au!seungmin, enemies to lovers, slow burn warnings: mean seungmin, reader has ego, underage characters, mention of daddy issues, reader has anxiety, A LOT of baseball terminology word count: 4.9k a/n: yall please appreciate my photoshop skills LMAO. i had to turn “11” into “1”, cause seung is the ace
chapter one | next . . . series masterlist . . . terminology
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april — the second month of spring, the second month of the season of love. you hated april. not only because everyone around you seemed to find a relationship all of a sudden, but also because it meant the start of the new school year.
it was not an average school, but a prestigious seido high school with its own baseball team. located in tokyo, it was almost impossible to receive an acceptance letter. your screams were heard all over the house, when you opened it on your laptop. it took you an eternity to finish all trials, so you had zero hope by the end of them. but you succeeded. maybe it was just dumb luck, or maybe you were actually good at baseball. you kept telling yourself the latter.
the sound of endless chatter filled the courtyard as students were trying to figure out where to go, meeting possible new friends, and as well as old friends. senpais were giving glares to new girls, what made you want to vomit.
you were there too - standing in the courtyard, an email with instructions opened on your phone. new chapter of your life was about to start.
since you were a member of the baseball team, unlike ordinary students, you were given the opportunity to live in a dormitory. fortunately, the dorm has been divided into female and male part, so you didn’t have to live with nasty boys who won’t clean after themselves. but you’d have meet one of those type of guys on the field for sure. after all, baseball is a male dominated game.
“seido spirit dorm”
it looked more like an apartment complex. as you walked past the sign, you already noticed bats, basket with balls and other equipment. it definitely didn’t look like an ordinary dorm. it thrilled you with excitement, you’ve never felt so normal before. baseball was a passion of yours that no one around you understood. you’ve made it all the way on your own, and this simple scene with some equipment laying on the floor next to the room, made your eyes watery. you couldn’t wait to meet your roommates, teammates and the current ace. you were ready to learn a lot.
despite all the panic that was thrilling inside you, it wasn’t hard to find your room. you stared at the names on the sign.
“sanada rin
fujiwara aoi
l/n y/n”
suddenly, the door opened and two girls appeared in the doorway, welcoming you in.
located on the second floor, your room had a view right on the baseball field. your roommates turned out to be quite nice. two senpais - year two aoi and year three rin.
they quickly introduced you to the team, best players and the system that your coach uses.
the school was so popular, that current amount of players, including first-years, exceeded one hundred. obviously, everyone can’t play on the team, because baseball is an nine player game (not including the benched players). that is why seidou has two team lineups. first one consists of best of the best. while second one is for those, who are good, but not enough. and the rest, who did not make it even to the second lineup, need to work twice harder, to get noticed by the coach.
these were not a good news. you caught yourself getting anxious. but what about the acceptance letter and the trials? you thought that meant a guaranteed spot on the team. your roommates just laughed at your words, saying that with the number of overconfident players these restrictions are the only right option.
time flew, as you talked up until the midnight over a bottle of soju. it was not the smartest decision, considering that tomorrow was the first training and a meeting with the team at 8 in the morning.
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of course, you felt drenched, squeezed out like a lemon, when you woke up. for a future baseball player, ace of the team, it was a bad habit of hating to wake up early in the morning. but you’ve decided to leave your thoughts about your future for now. it was time to leave the best first impression, so the coach would notice you in the sea of first years.
the cold morning air was refreshing. you shuddered as you tried to cover yourself in clothes more. the grass was still covered with dew drops and the sun has just begun to rise. despite your new friends in the faces of your roommates, you tried to stay apart and not stick to any people on the first day. you weren’t here to make friends, you were here to play baseball. and you wouldn’t let absolutely no one to distract you from the sport that you loved so much or your goals of going to nationals.
everyone was asked to line up, and the newcomers in the front row were told to take turns telling their name and the position they would like to play in.
oh you didn't like that. it felt like the coach hadn't even read the profiles of his students, since he was asking for everyone's names and dream positions.
finally your turn.
“watashiwa l/n y/n des! i want to play as a pitcher and my dream is to become an ace of the team! i have years of experience and a lot of potential. i am ready to show all my skills! thank you!” you finished your speech with a bow.
there were chuckes in the back.
“alright. thank you for your honesty, l/n y/n! let’s hope you will show your passion on the field as well.” coach replied coldly, crossing his arms.
if you had daddy issues, you'd start soaking over him, just like your roommates. he was definitely in his forties, but he was quite thin and tall, with a layer of trimmed beard and dark glasses on his nose.
did you say something wrong? the coach looked like he was unhappy about something. and those chuckles from behind hurt your ego a little.
after the roll call, you were approached by a group of guys who looked at least a year older. at the center of this not-friendly looking gang was a guy, apparently the leader and the ace, judging by the way how confident he looked, and of course the number 1 emblazoned on his chest.
“so you’re the kohai, right? aiming at ace position? how cute.” he grinned cockily, scanning you from top to bottom. “i bet you can only throw a fastball. am i right?”
“i don’t even know you.” you snapped back, turning around and getting ready to leave. you were already irritated because of failed introduction.
“i am your senpai, so i’d like to have your full respect.” he folded his arms across his chest, stretching out to his full height to show his dominance even more.
that made you look at him again. right, senpai. why do boys always keep using this as an excuse for their rudeness?
“i am kim seungmin, by the way. current ace of the team.” he turned around and pointed at his number on the back, as if you haven’t noticed it already on the front of the uniform. “i am just a second year, but I became an ace after two months on the team.” he squared his shoulders, braving himself even more.
you were about to reply with something like “so what? i will beat your so-called record, you won’t even have time to react.”, but you couldn’t. because he was your senpai.
“right. that’s what i was talking about. respect your senpais.” he smirked, patting you on the shoulder. you shrugged off his hand, making him let out a small laugh. “okay, we will see you around, i guess.”
not being able to say anything back you just stared at him, hoping that you would be able to burn a hole inside the number 1 on his back.
ugh.
and you hoped that you would be able to learn something from the current ace and even form some bond. maybe you shouldn’t have brought your goal up. but you wanted to show your coach that you were up to a good fight for a place on the team. you didn’t want to stay on the bench for the next three years, like your roommates. you were passionate and hardworking - that’s what led you in this high school after-all.
the training has started pretty light. after a warm-up and a few laps around the field, you were divided by positions. all fielders went to the field to practice and try assigned positions; first and second lineup players went to the pitching machines; the match of the season was already approaching, meaning that both lineups needed to be ready; and all the pitchers were gathered together with the second-year catchers in the bullpen. coach and his assistant were standing in the distance, planning on watching the new pitchers from afar. the main responsibility in spotting new talent among the newcomers laid on the team captain and current pitchers.
as you have already understood from the conversations, the team was short of pitchers right now. three other pitchers were third-years and will leave the team in half a year due to exams and graduation. of course, there was also kim seungmin who held the ace position, but no matter how talented he was, he physically could not pitch the entire match solo. the team needed a starting pitcher. the one who can open the match, confuse the batters with some unique pitching. this was your chance.
senpais looked scary. four pitchers, including kim seungmin, were giving everyone frightening glares, as if first-years were about to steal their spots right now. catchers on the other hand, did not care much about the upcoming rivalry. but they looked intimidating regardless, because of their layers of protection and masked helmets.
you uncontrollably shanked under the condemning gazes and you haven’t even shown anything yet. the atmosphere was tense and far from team spirit. the amount of rivalry within the team was shocking to you.
around three or four pitchers got assigned to each catcher. and god, you were sure that your catcher was the guy you saw next to that cocky kim. senpai kim.
the first-year pitches have begun. you watched everyone with interest, feeling like you were part of kim seungmin's gang.
first-years were really good. they had good ball control and different pitching types. you managed to notice a couple of cutters, of course a lot of fastballs, some were so fast that you only had time to flinch at the sound of gloves, sliders and even one changeup. and with such monsters you had to compete for the place on the team?
standing in line, you managed to get anxious and started overthinking. so when it was your turn, you could barely move your legs to get closer.
your fingers nervously clutched the ball in your hand. inhale and exhale.
out of the corner of your eye, you noticed kim seungmin grinning, his arms crossed over his chest. his gaze was burning a hole in you.
you decided to start with regular fastball, so as not to screw up completely at the first pitch. the key was throw the ball with speed and accuracy. pretty simple, you have done it plenty of time before.
“throw when you're ready, but don't delay it, there's a whole queue behind you.” catcher said. how thoughtful and generous of him. you shot a wry smile.
to relieve the tension you tossed the ball in your hand a couple of times. the anxiety finally got replaced with excitement. time to play.
you sensed the familiar feeling of the ball rolling off the middle and index fingers, creating a backspin.
it went right into the catchers glove with a loud slap. perfect accuracy. feeling the confidence again, you relaxed a bit, shaking off tension in the muscles.
it sounded quiet, but you still heard the arrogant. "i told you she only throws fastballs."
it took all your force not to look at him. can this kim “i am the ace” seungmin shut the fuck up?
feeling the need to show off and shut him up with your perfect pitching, you decided to throw a slider. you placed your middle finger directly on a seam, while the index finger went on the leather. both fingers were important at release to impart the necessary spin that would lead to a slider’s desired movement.
it’s a quite difficult pitch to learn and you still weren’t confident in it. the problem was that it’s not as straightforward as the fastball, and takes a lot more patience and a good coach to learn it. you probably should have chosen to throw another fastball to show off your accuracy and speed, but the desire to shut kim seungmin up was stronger.
getting into the stance, you lifted your left knee in the air, transferring the weight from the back leg to the front leg, generating force and velocity in the throw. as soon as you felt the ball leaving your hand you felt like it’s gonna turn out bad. you heart sank.
slider should be thrown as hard as possible, because of the speed change in the end. depending on your success, the pitch should move towards cather’s glove and drop during the last few feet. but something went wrong. maybe you didn’t throw it with enough force, maybe you messed up with the grip or maybe you were just nervous? the ball just flew to the right, not even in the strike zone, falling awkwardly next to the catcher. silence.
and then there were few giggles behind you. you felt your ears turning red. how did you fuck this up so badly?
you really couldn’t focus on your pitching. the feeling of his eyes burning holes in you was so distracting. you were holding yourself from turning right at him and yelling what’s been on your mind since morning.
“i am waiting.” catchers voice brought you back to reality. he was still holding a glove open, waiting for the ball, eyes looking at you, scolding through the mask.
you took a deep breath again, trying to collect your thoughts. alright, it’s just a simple pitch. forget about others and focus on your goal. your journey has already started, stop slacking off.
deep breath and you’ve got into position again, bringing your hands together. then, a quick kick of the leg and the ball flew out of your hand.
STRIKE!
with a loud slap the ball finally landed right into the glove, cutting the air.
you were so stressed, you didn’t notice you held your breath this whole time.
it was perfect. the speed, the fall in the end, the accuracy. it was…
“next!” catcher interrupted your thoughts.
he didn’t even leave any comments on your pitching. of course, he was a second or third-year already. probably, he didn’t give two shits about a new girl.
the corner of your eye caught a sight of kim seungmin again. your eyes met. he was still looking at you, even though you had already stopped pitching. did you make him nervous with your secret weapon? well, kim “i am the ace” seungmin, get ready to fight for your place.
you gave him a wink, getting an eye roll in response. it made you laugh a little. the displeased look on his face was a balm to the soul.
the training was over. the coach and his assistant said that in the evening they will announce the first-years who will become a trainee for the first and second lineups. it was time for lunch, and then your first school day was about to properly begin.
the schedule was cruel indeed. trainings were assigned in the morning and evening in combination with regular classes at school. baseball players had a special schedule - you had to attend classes in the afternoon. but even with the special arrangement of classes, you had no idea how you’d be able to survive like that. no wonder every player on the team has been rude as hell so far if they have no time to relax. what sacrifices do people make to become a professional player. and the graduates of seido high school were guaranteed a future career.
the dorm had its own canteen, which the baseball team could use for free. after taking a shower, you headed straight there with your roommates.
“i saw your pitching, it was good.” rin patted you on the shoulder.
the three of you were sitting at a table in the corner of the room. it was actually even better that you sat aside, because there was such a ruckus in the canteen. the guys were discussing something at the top of their voices, not holding back in their expressions. many of them didn't even bother to take a shower before lunch. it made you wonder once again why you didn't choose some kind of girls-only school.
“thank you!” you smiled. “actually, i panicked a bit because of the taunts and messed up. i wonder if it will affect coach’s decision.”
“taunts?” aoi asked curiously. “who’s bothering you already?”
“kim seungmin.” you sighed.
aoi and rin couldn’t hold their laughs. “okay. you don’t need to explain any further.”
you smiled as well. “has he always been… like this?”
“hmm…” rin thought for a second. “i was a second-year when he joined. at first i thought he was a nice guy. in fact, he was very shy, and then something changed in his attitude. but he managed to improve his pitching in a short period of time, which, frankly, is impressive. and then he became an ace, which was not surprising, because none of the pitchers we had could beat him.”
a shy guy who turned into an asshole. what happened to you one year ago, kim seungmin?
lunch was over. you said goodbye to rin and aoi and went to classes. to be honest, you could not care less about paying attention, especially when the biggest announcement of your life was about to happen in a few hours. whole time during classes you spent thinking about it. was your pitching good enough to impress the coach? will he count your failed attempt? will kim seungmin somehow sabotage your candidacy? you were fidgeting in the chair like crazy.
it probably looked funny how quickly you stormed out of the classroom. five minutes before the start, you were already standing on the field dressed in a uniform again. you were exhausted, almost falling asleep, but excited to hear the announcement.
as soon as the whole team was gathered and the coach arrived with his assistant, the speech began.
“good evening, everyone. i hope you worked your hardest in classes today, because as i remind you, your academic performance will affect your ability to attend trainings. anyway, with the help of my assistant, our team captain and our pitchers, we have complied a list of five player who will be accepted as trainees in the first and second lineups.” the coach’s voice echoed loudly across the field. “so. the first player who showed themselves at today’s training was-“
your breath hitched. honestly, you’ve never stressed so much in one day. this school will be the death of you.
loud clapping brought you back to reality. you looked around, hoping that your name got called. but no. some random guy walked out of the crowd, bowed and stood next to the coach. of course. and your naive ass thought you had a chance, especially after that failed slider.
everything repeated until only one place was left vacant. you’ve lost all hope, because every player that got chosen made an impression even on you. and you rarely acknowledged other pitchers.
“and the last candidate,” coach frowned. “had a really controversial reputation after just one day. but after some passionate discussion with my colleagues,” coach gave someone the look in the crowd. “i decided to change my mind and gave this person a chance.”
your heart skipped a beat.
“please welcome our last trainee, who has shown great potential and a good slider-“
no way.
“l/n y/n!”
you eyes widened. despite the fact that you hoped to get accepted, you were still surprised to hear your name.
still feeling like you were in a dream, you walked out of the crowd and headed forward under dozens of stares from your teammates. you bet that kim seungmin was the first one to burn a hole in you.
the coach gave you a slight nod and gestured to get in line. you saw two warm smiles in the crowd. aoi and rin. for a second, you felt bad. they had both been on the team for so long, but the chances of them being on one of the lineups were so little. and you doubled their chances in one day.
the coach said a few more encouraging words and let his assistant to step in. batteries were about to be announced. each pitcher was going to be judged not only based on individual skills, but also on the ability to work in a battery.
and here you were - anxious again. you didn’t disagree with coach on this, but still. your chances of getting an actual spot depended on your catcher. what if he is an asshole? what if he-
“takigawa aki and l/n y/n!”
you looked around, searching for someone to approach you.
oh, hell no.
it could have been anyone. anyone on the team, there were plenty of good catchers. but no. it was him, the guy who catched your piches in the morning. the friend of “i am the ace”. without protection, he looked much thinner, but still tall and intimidating. you saw dark brown hair and glasses, that you hadn’t noticed before. to be honest, you recognized him by his scolding eyes. he would actually be quite cute if he wasn’t kim seungmin’s friend.
“just call me aki. i don’t wanna see your grimace every time you’ll address me as senpai.” was the first thing he said when he approached you.
you chuckled. aki was straightforward indeed.
it was honestly impressive how you managed to create such a reputation on the first day.
“i have a question.”
“what is it?”
“are you friends with kim senpai?” you highlighted the last word, making aki chuckle. “cause i think i saw you next to him in the morning.”
“yes, you are right.” he admitted. “he is a good friend of mine, but i don’t really agree with how he treated you on your first day. gladly, you managed to get a spot as a trainee.”
aki seemed to be better than you predicted. maybe you really should stop overthinking.
“listen…” he cleared his throat. “wanna go practice a bit after we’re done? i know it’s your first day, but it’s better to start soon, so you’ll have an advantage. your slider was good, i think you just need more practice and a good coaching.”
“you think so?” you repeated shockingly.
aki nodded. “you are being too harsh on yourself. you are just a first-year, you aren’t supposed to know every pitch and be good at it. so… are you down or no?”
“count me in.” you smiled.
evening training was light. the coach was not so harsh on you on the first day. instead of pitching, you worked on your batting. it was the first time you used a pitching machine and you were terrified the whole time.
after the end of the training session, you waited for aki, and the two of you headed to the gym inside, because it was already getting dark and cold. your muscles felt so stiff. why did you agree to this again?
aki turned out to be a great coach. he explained you the basic of pitching in a way you’ve never heard anyone explain before. then he pointed out the mistake you made in the morning and why your slider failed. it was exhausting to throw over a hundred more pitches, but aki said it was a good start for your stamina training. as a pitcher, you had to be ready to throw that ball at least a hundred times per match, while standing under the burning sun.
even if you were dying when you finished, you still felt motivated. after all, it was your first day and you’ve already made so much progress.
on dying legs you made it to your room. the clock showed 11 in the evening. only having enough energy to walk to your bed, you laid on it and immediately fell asleep without even changing your clothes.
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you overslept. fuck. you overslept on your second day and the first day as a trainee. yesterday’s workout really took its toll on you. the evidence of this were your sore muscles. and you still had to take a shower… gosh! you were a mess.
that’s how you ended up hiding behind a wall, thinking about the ways out of this situation. the coach was giving an introduction speech to the trainees and checking on older players in his usual strict manner. you couldn’t just walk out in this atmosphere. what could you even do?
“shit! they’ve already started.” sudden voice came behind you, making you squeal.
you turned around and faced the man himself. kim “i am the ace” seungmin was standing face to face next to you, as frightened as you were. what a surprise. never though you’d see the golden boy like this.
his voice was low, face swollen and eyes half-sleepy. he was still yawning, as if he just rolled out of bed and came here first thing.
“what are you doing here?” you raised an eyebrow. “aren’t you the ace? the best on the team?”
“shut up.” he leaned against the wall, still hiding from the sight of others. “it’s none of your business. i just fell asleep really late.”
“ah, right.” you rolled your eyes.
so now you were stuck in this position with him out of all people. great.
“anyway, why are you here?”
“what do you mean why? i am a new trainee, weren’t you at the training yesterday?” you gave him an evil look. this guy.
“ah yes, i already forgot.” a cocky smile slowly morphed onto his features. “wow. so you are late on your first day as a trainee? you have a big attitude wherever you go, huh?”
“you fu-“
“shh!” he put his hand on your mouth to muffle your approaching yell. “be quiet! they will catch us!”
you slapped his hand, making him to take it away from your mouth.
“i don’t wanna hear your notations, especially, when you are in the same position as me right now.” you clicked your tongue, turning away from him.
“well, our head coach is extremely strict about being punctual, and you’ve just got selected as a trainee. i don’t think we are in the same position, darling. you’d better listen to the discussion of your candidacy that happened in the office yesterday. and now you are about to show up late. worst case scenario, he will find a replacement for you and forget your name forever.” kim seungmin gave you the cockiest smike.
that’s bad. very bad. the wave of anxiety hit you again.
“should i just go there and beg for forgiveness on my knees? i think he will understand.”
“no, just calm down. a tardy is a tardy, even if you apologize. it won’t make your sentence lighter.” he shook his head. “however… what if you sneak into the line without anyone noticing?”
you looked at him suspiciously. what is this guy on?
“look here.” he gestured you to sit down next to him and you both cautiously peeked out from behind the wall. “take a good look at how they’re lined up. coach is talking to every player directly from far end to the close end. once the first row is done, it goes back to the far end of the second row. while the farthest guy is answering coach’s questions, everyone will be looking at him.”
“i still can’t believe i’ll be able to sneak in like that.” you whispered.
“take that chance and run quickly. you’ve got it.” he assured, looking right at you.
“what about you though?”
“i will be right behind you.” he patted you on the shoulder.
“are you sure? wouldn’t we be in bigger trouble if we fail?” you still weren’t convinced enough by his plan.
“don’t worry.” he grinned. “i did the same last year.”
“you’ve done it before?!” you almost yelled in surprise, but quickly lowered your tone.
“just trust me.” he said.
with that he talked you into it. you scooted a bit to the left, getting ready to run as soon as the attention would be on the guy in the second row.
“watch closely. we have one chance.” the ace gave you a thumbs up.
“alright, next is…”
you saw the coach turn his head in the opposite direction.
“c’mon!” kim seungmin almost shouted, signalizing you to go.
holding your breath, you crouched down and started running. the plan was working perfectly, you thought. the coach did not even pay attention to what was happening behind his back. a few more steps and…
“AAAAA! she came late and is trying to sneak into the line!”
you froze in disbelief. kim fucking seungmin was screaming behind you like some kind of alarm system. everyone, including the coach, turned around and looked right at you.
if you don’t get kicked off the team right now, you definitely going to beat his ass.
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a/n (2): i’d really really really appreciate your feedback! i want to know what you think about this chapter. and please reblog, because likes do nothing to promote the post!
i wanted to leave this chapter as an introduction to the school, side characters and “y/n”, because i don’t wanna leave that unexplained. i promise that next chapter will have more interactions with seungmin!!
masterlist | taglist
TAGLIST (OPEN): @helloliaaaa @ghostbladee @jihnyah @lonelylandofan @fun-fanfics @anifxa
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pen-observing · 6 months
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synopsis: gaining freedom makes you realize how hard it is to keep it. and, despite everything, you need to ask dottore for a favor to make sure your plan works. just what will he say?
pairing: dottore x gn! reader word count: 2.8k warnings: reader wears heels but is gn!, one half-way suggestive comment at the end.
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Truth be told, there are absolutely zero reasons why you should be walking up these stairs. Okay, there are absolutely zero good reasons why you should be here. There are some, well a few – okay, there is only one bad reason why your heels are making noises trying to find a certain irritating doctor.
But, you cannot be blamed. Rather, you should not be blamed. Signing up to be a harbinger or being picked to fill in the eight position, it meant blame. You are to be blamed for your allegiance, you are to be blamed as the future destroyers of the old world, and, of course, you are to be blamed as the helper of calamity in the eyes of your enemies.
However, your family did not blame you for that specific choice. They were happy. Becoming a harbinger was just another step in them gaining domination on the social ladder. The closer you are to the wishes of your ruler, the closer you are to the grace and benevolence she extends. And, if the mirror of history reflects back on you as one of those who stood by her side – it will reflect power. The consequences or missions that became successful or fell apart will only come secondary.
If your focus is power that serves grace and idyllic ice – that means you are power. And, by extent, it means your family grows more powerful for every good mission you complete; grows in social standing for every fear you manage to strike into someone’s bones.
However, you think there is just one thing you should be grateful for when it comes to having this position. Others do not notice it, but you certainly do. Since your family wanted domination over other families, it meant they wanted domination over you. When you really think about it – it spreads like poison. If they raise you from the start to fear them, you will never disobey. If you blossom, it will be because they shaped your thorns and leaves to suit their tastes – they shaped you to bloom on their terms and on their soil. Disobeying them became impossible, but thanks to the benevolence of ice – you found freedom.
That freedom did not come easy. Being allowed to choose your own meals was a grace you never had before. Being allowed to steal Dottore’s pudding because he did not want it showed you how other humans live. Holding hands with Columbina while she walked down a dark corridor and hearing her sing for simple joy were things you swore to never take lightly again. Capitano giving you a nod and a ‘job well done’ showed you how ‘normal’ people congratulate others. Your family always said ‘You satisfied us’ no matter how much trial and turbulation you put in. All of these simple freedoms made you know larger ones.
The freedom to leave this nation and go to another one. The freedom of sitting in a simple restaurant with your shoulders slouched and drinking mint tea became insurmountable in your mind.
But, as these simple freedoms added up to your heart and spirit; to the very fabric of your soul; so did your simple rebellion against those that forced you to bloom on their terms. They found faults in you but in reality, there was very little they could do to stop it.
It made you too careless – too proud. They were smart and they managed to lure you into a trap you would only describe as the most intricate of webs inside an illusionary dream. They hooked you because you got prideful. Cornered you with another decision you would have to listen to.
And, in the end, it led you here. Led you to having to seek out a man who said you were ‘pretty pathetic and without grace’ just for taking the pudding he did not want to eat. Nobody annoyed you more that Dottore did when it came to the harbingers. But, nobody else came to mind when you thought of ways to solve this problem.
You had to give it to him – for how annoying he was, he was also efficient in everything he did. What other harbinger returned with two gnoses instead of one? How insufferable!
There is one good reason you are walking up these stairs to get to his lab. Just one. Your freedom.
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“We understand that you are a Harbinger.” “What a grammatical mistake. I am a Lord Harbinger – your Lord Harbinger.”
When you climbed the stairs, his obnoxious servants offered you tea and made you sit at a small, circular table.
“We will not apologize because we assure you that what you consider a mistake is our order. We serve Lord Dottore – the Doctor – we do not serve you or any of the other harbingers. While we respect you, we do not bow down to you. Lord Second is a very peculiar man you see. We respect you, but we do not bow down to you.” “Are you saying he ordered you to only refer to him as a lord?” “No, but, it was heavily implied based on previous happenstance.”
You took a sip of the gray concoction. These people were too used to mixing potions and elixirs that you were not sure if that should explain the bad taste of this tea, or, if it should only make it more confusing.
“It is so clear which harbinger you serve. You are almost as annoying as he is with all of your peculiar words and behavior.”
They did not reply to the direct nature of your insults. They did not even flinch. You suppose nobody could be more creative with their insults than Dottore. That made your current predicament more unnerving. This gray concoction did not help considering how old it had gotten. There was nothing that could soothe your nerves. If he called you pathetic and without grace for taking pudding he did not want, what would he say to your next request? What creative spin would his wit grace you with now?
All you could do was wait until he was finished with his current experiment. Nobody ever visited his lab like this…perhaps he would be glad to see you? You should definitely show a big interest in his current work to soften him up just a bit before asking for your favor. It should help, right?
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The door to his lab opens once you are on your second slice of a semi-stale strawberry cake. The air it sends your way makes you get goosebumps all over. You don’t dare imagine how cold it actually was inside that room nor how long he spent in it. But, to your lovely surprise, he looks clean. Looks like this experiment was different than the usual ones. Yes! You could lead with that and win him over!
“Well, Doctor, looks like this experiment was different than the usual ones.”
Dottore stands still after closing the door as if surprised by your voice. Then he throws on the usual smirk as he takes off his gloves and makes his way towards you.
“Ah, look who is here. A lost kitten it would seem. I would ask to what do I owe the pleasure but all of you are the same.”
The eloquent servant from earlier puts down a chair for him across from you. It is of higher quality. Another one brings Dottore his warm tea and you can see the strawberry cake on his plate is fresh when compared to yours. How clearly but subtly they show favoritism impresses you even in such a situation. You would never ask this of your subordinates but everyone has their rules. Dottore sits down and rises his eyebrow.
“Tell me what you need and be quick about it. I can’t promise I will decide to help you but you can ask.”
Ah, here it is, the moment you have been dreading. The cold gray mixture in your ornamental cup suddenly seems like the most delicious thing to drink if only to avoid his inquiry. Your freedom is on the line. How will you save it if you do not even feel free to ask Dottore to help your cause?
Instead of taking one sip, you take three and Dottore finds it amusing to see you squirm. The signs of your nervousness are so subtle that his servants miss them but he can clearly tell you would constantly hit the tiles with your heel by bouncing your leg if only he was present.
“Well, I called you a kitten but it seems like the cat has got your tongue. If you are here to ask for some pudding, I am afraid that they did not serve it today.”
Asshole. It is better than being called pathetic but by what price?
“Dottore, I need to…”
You remembered that his other servants were still in this room.
“Are you unaware you aren’t allowed to attend the meetings of your lords? Scram.”
Dottore had to hold in a laugh at your authoritative display. They would not leave just because you said it. They dispersed once Dottore moved his head in the direction of the door.
“I suppose you are not here to take any sweets considering how serious this matter is for you.”
There it is. You are bouncing your leg. He can’t hear it but he can see the way the tablecloth moves ever so slightly on your side. What could be troubling you so? Seeking him out is usually the last line of resistance for most people – harbingers especially. It means that they are not strong enough on their own.
“I have something very important to ask you.” “That has been obvious all this time. So why don’t you go ahead and say it?”
Asshole. He could at least give you a bit more time. Maybe his experiment went sour? So he has no patience for you? No, just him drinking tea here means he is patient and giving you time.
Your leg begins to bounce in a more noticeable way. Your desire for freedom is tied to the way your heart beat quickens. Your pulse and eyes that blink more while looking at the horrible – tasteless – gray matter in front of you are all signals to show how hard this is. But, with your freedom on the line – you force yourself to dare and ask this sarcastic man for help.
“Dottore, you need to hear me out.” “And what have I been doing so far, exactly, If not that?” “Just.. just, listen, just answer my next question and don’t talk until I ask it, okay!?”
Dottore scoffs but finds it too intriguing to stop you.
“To be honest, I need you to do me a big favor.”  
He does not say anything.
“You may be..familiar..with my particular circumstances when it comes to my family and how they raised me. The whole tyranny of it all if you will.”
Dottore knows. Obviously he does.
“Well, recently, by their words – I have been acting out and they found a solution to make me return to the way I was before. And I need you to do me a favor to make sure they don’t have their way.”
Here it comes. The moment you have been dreading over. Surely you have to act quick but even now it does not come easy to just say the request. The request is too much. He will reject you surely. But, you still have to ask! Those who do not ask, get no answers. Those who do not seek, get lost before they begin. You have to do it. You simply must!
“Dottore…” are some pipes leaking somewhere? Or is that just the sound of your ears ringing from being this nervous?
“Please, please, crash my wedding next weekend!”
As you say it – the sound in your ears stops. The leaking is suddenly no more. Everything goes quiet and seconds feel way longer than they usually would. Dottore isn’t saying anything. You closed your eyes when asking him so you must look like a fool. But, that is simply a normal reaction to fear. His rejection would clearly be shown on his face immediately. Nobody can blame you for prolonging the answer like this.
But, Dottore isn’t saying anything. And, when you open one of your eyes in hesitation, he throws his head back laughing. It reminds you of a small child who just heard the silliest joke in their life. Kids on playgrounds look like him. You have never seen him this joyful. He might be laughing at you but the sound causes you to open up both of your eyes and to take him in. To take in the joy he is radiating. Even if it is at your expense.
“You have a wedding next weekend? Your wedding? And you are asking me to crash it?”
Dottore continues to laugh and he covers his mouth with his hand. Courtesy, you think. The laughter dies down and he removes it once it is over.
“My apologies. This was simply just too unexpected for me to hear.”
You can see his shoulders move up and it is clear he is trying not to snicker.
“I am glad something made you laugh truly for once but it really isn’t that funny! My freedom is on the line here!” “And you suppose your freedom will be saved by letting it entangle with a man such as myself? On your wedding day nonetheless? What an interesting world you have going on in that brain of yours.” “Are you agreeing or not? I need to know as soon as possible.” “Why the rush? Oh, it is only in a matter of few days after all. Who is the lucky fellow?” “Some schmuck from another family my parents are fond of.” “Wow, not even a name?” “The name does not matter. What matters is that you crash it and I can remain free.” “Ohh, quite the big prize you are after. Your freedom. For heaven’s sake, you are a harbinger. You can say no.” “It isn’t as easy as that you blue-haired-iduolon—uhm, I mean, you brilliant researcher. I can’t simply say no. They would find another man to throw my way who would work for their cause.” “And you think me crashing your wedding would prevent that?” “Of course it would! Everyone knows your reputation! Not even they would dare to challenge me if you crash the wedding and show interest in me.” “Show interest in you? You might have to pay an even bigger price. Crashing a wedding is one favor. Showing interest in you is a completely different one. What? Should I pretend to be your obsessive lover who cannot believe the charade?” “…Could you?” “Could I? It is indeed possible to do that with my talents but…would I? That is a completely different matter altogether.”
For whatever reason when your shoulders slouch you find that touching the surface of the gray tea with your index finger seems like an appropriate thing to do at this moment.
“Ugh…then I need to think of another way to get out of this predicament. I have no desire to be controlled again.” “No human being does I suppose.” “Your wisdom is not helping after you just rejected my request you know.” “Ah, you wound me with such a cold tone. It was rather cute when you were begging for my help.” “I never begged. I simply asked.” “Maybe that was your mistake. I do love to see people begging me to do them a favor nobody else can. Shouldn’t you know that by now?” “….How twisted can you be?” “So twisted that you would think of me first for your absurd idea. Isn’t that in fact what brought you here?” “…You were just waiting to use that one weren’t you?”
You sigh once. You sigh a second time. And just when you think it is all over – Dottore slides the plate with his fresh cake in front of you. Maybe this is his consolation? People like him are never good at expressing it a regular way.
“It isn’t pudding you always steal but it should do the trick.” “Thanks….But I won’t get on my knees to beg for your help with this. I already did more than enough.”
Dottore hums.
“You are right. That can wait after I help you. You need to show me your gratitude somehow after all.”
Your whole face lights up. You stand up from your chair and it is so sudden that your hand touches the soft cake instead of the table.
“Do you really mean it Dottore? Do you?!”
He can’t help but be amused by you. Dottore takes out his handkerchief and holds your hand. He wipes off the frosting and the strawberry pieces very slowly. He always looks focused on his tasks and for whatever reason the display makes you cold hands heat up.
“Settle down. I just think crashing a wedding might be fun. And, you would have to repay your debt anyway. Surely, those two are enough to excite me for some time.”
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a/n: Thank my professor who made us mad cus I could use the time from him not deciding to let us in online to write this piece
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harrysweasleys · 1 year
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bestie fluff 13 with dean pls >>>> 😩
a/n: you KNOWWWW i had to write a christmas fic :))) hope u love it bestie xx
prompt: “ah, i’ve been looking for that shirt.”
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stolen shirts
The snow was falling lightly outside the bunker as you sat around the Christmas tree — the half-bent, branch-missing tree that Sam and Dean had picked up the week prior while out on a hunt.
It was slightly misshapen, but the spirit was there and that was the important part.
No one else was awake yet, which gave you the opportunity to make everyone’s coffee and prepare the last minute gifts. None of you had gone overboard with the presents — you had gotten Dean a new jacket, some beer, and a calendar with pictures of cars — but it was your first proper Christmas in a long time. Something you all cherished.
Sam had gotten you all some of those ugly knitted holiday sweaters, but none of you wore them. It was so warm in the bunker that you really didn’t need the extra layer, but you wore them last night during the Christmas Eve movie marathon anyways.
This morning, however, you had tossed on Dean’s shirt and a pair of sweatpants as you meandered around the “living room”, humming some holiday classics to yourself as you prepared the room for the morning. You knew Sam and Eileen would be sleeping in late, but Dean would likely get up soon after noticing your presence missing from the bed.
“Up early?”
Speak of the Devil…
You jumped, nearly tripping over the steps as you placed a hand over your chest, “Jesus, Dean. You could have given me a warning that you were coming into the room.”
He shrugged, sweatshirt hanging loosely on his body as he stepped forwards, “That was my warning.”
Narrowing your eyes at him and lifting a finger, you pretended to scold him, “For the scare, I think I’m taking away one of your gifts.”
Dean had a habit of making you jump, but it was never on purpose. It was just so weird how a man so large could make absolutely zero noise as he walked through the bunker. You guessed sneaking around on hunts for the last fifteen years would do the trick.
“That’s alright,” he stepped closer, “You’re the only gift I want anyways.” You began to swat him away, ears growing warm at his comment, but he beat you to it as he took a step back and eyed you up and down, “Ah, I’ve been looking for that shirt. I woke up and couldn’t find it.”
“Well,” you began, letting his arms wrap around your waist as yours went around his neck, “It was on the end of the bed which means it’s up for grabs.”
He hummed, closing his eyes and nodding his head for a brief moment, before his lips curved up into a smirk, “That’s exactly what that means, yes. But I guess I forgive you,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead, “It looks way better on you anyways.”
Your entire body warmed up at his words like it was the first time you were hearing them. Which it wasn’t. Not in the slightest. You “borrowed” Dean’s shirts all the time. Especially when he was away on hunts and you missed him, wanting him close to you. They always smelled like him and it was impossible to keep them away.
“You’re cheesy,” you leaned up and pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose, “But I like it.”
“I like you.”
You swatted at his chest, scoffing and rolling your eyes. For a man who presents himself as a big tough guy, feared by nearly every creature that lurks in the shadows, he really was a huge softie. But only with you. Only with you.
“Shut up and drink your coffee, Winchester,” you chuckled, handing the mug over to him. It was thankfully still steaming, the aroma filling the room and giving it a warm, morning-y feeling.
Dean brought the mug up to his lips, giving you a wink as his hand snaked around your waist, taking a sip, “Whatever you say, sweetheart.”
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qvincvnx · 1 year
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every time i see people say that all translation operates at a loss it so completely baffles me. all translation operates at a gain, because you are adding things to the source text: a new retelling and interpretation by the translator; a new audience of new readers, from a new cultural context; a new relationship between cultures (source and target); a new network of inter-connectivity and reference (a translation can link a work external to the culture into its own culture's network of literary references in ways a source text simply cannot - thinking here about the ways the LXX links the jewish bible to hellenistic epic traditions using word choice and other allusions! that's not present in the hebrew bible, but is possible in the greek translation - even without changing the plot or content).
a translation is always generating more new meanings than reading a work in its original language would! works and words that are "untranslatable" exist but we generate such tremendous meaning by TRANSLATING THEM ANYWAY. it's only a "loss" if you think of everything as a zero-sum game where objectivity and the meanings of words are bounded by the limits set down by other people in a dictionary. meanings change! the dictionary describes how a word IS used when the dictionary is written, not how its meaning has changed over time and not how it might come to change in the future.
language, culture, and texts are all part of a continuous process of recreation: you, as a reader, bring something completely unique to every text you ever read. translation does the same thing: it changes not just the source text into a target language translation, but it also changes the target language and the target culture by shaping those around concepts that might not naturally "fit". and those changed meanings then trickle backwards into the source language. everything is always changing! translation is an incredible opportunity to watch these things change in real time.
obligatory caveat: i'm not going to pretend that language and cultural imperialism aren't worrying dynamics that can exist in translation; obviously they can be. but that's not the fault of the *process of translation*, that's the fault of cultural imperialism and exploitation. the idea that cultures should be firmly discrete and isolated from each other and never interact is frankly worrying! it's possible to interact across cultures - and to translate! - without linguistic supremacy burrowing its way in, especially if you decouple the translation process from christian ideologies (the letter doesn't matter, just the spirit) and capitalist priorities (what will sell for easy consumption) about what makes a "good" translation.
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ruthlesslistener · 1 year
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Actually because I'm back in Subnautica brainrot again, I think that people who complain about Below Zero being less scary than the first game are fundamentally misunderstanding the purpose of both (apart from the fact that Subnautica being a horror game is an entirely subjective opinion). In the first Subnautica, a fundamental aspect of the story is that you are stranded and alone on an alien planet, which is a fear that slowly gets peeled away as you progress through the game and find remnants of fellow crash survivors, indicating that you were not the first to befall this fate. This feeling is deepened when you find the Architect labs and piece together their desperation to cure the infection that plagues you, a move that brings you closer to the Sea Emperor- the only other living being on the planet who speaks to you, a being who, despite their alien nature, is sympathetic and wishes to help you in return for some assistance in a familiar scenario- they need their offspring to have a future. Despite the two of you being completely alien to each other, you find mutual comfort and compassion over each other's plights- you are not alone. The Sea Emperor's very words echo this sentiment, and we close the game with that message still ringing in our mind- 'We are different, but we go together'.
Below Zero does not start out with that similar sense of being alone. Nor does it ever try to, because that is not the point of the story to begin with. Below Zero instead picks up where the first Subnautica left off, and expands that concept that the Sea Emperor gives us- that even though we may be different from others, that does not mean that we are incapable of finding familiar comfort with each other. This becomes apparent as soon as Al-an gets incorperated into Robin's mind, and their thoughts and fears become intertwined with her own. They are different- very different- but they too are barely holding on to their own survival, and spent years on their own before Robin rescued them from certain death. Even through the retcons, the end result is the same- Al-an only survives because Robin chooses to help them. As different as they are, and as much as they struggle to interact with her in the beginning, those differences do not overwhelm the fact that the two of them found kindred spirits in the other, though they were born thousands of years and several galaxies apart. They are different, but they go together.
I'm excited, then, for where the continuation of this companionship will lead us in the future
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cthulhusstepmom · 3 months
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Four Times Hootsie Ran Away to Join the Circus
There’s a certain hustle and bustle that comes with being the most important person at the Carnivalé, or so Hootsie has come to learn while observing her father. There’s always one thing or another that pops up and rears its unpleasant head. Whether it be the other people that work for him or the many beasts that he cares for. Today that was talk of an Oliphaunt, a word that made her Dad incredibly excited so it had to be a good thing. Unfortunately it seemed to be one of those good things that meant a lot of work, which translated to a lot of time spent playing with her fly-pad while her father directed the hands about. Though there seemed to be a problem with Uncle Kremy, the details of which are lost on Hootsie, but some form of one sided argument wherein her dad is too busy bouncing with excitement to listen to words like “wrong account” and “fucking sales tax Gricko”(oops a bit late on the ear muffs there). 
So at the very least it was a good day, which is never a bad thing, bad days aren’t fun; but, something Hootsie has learned in the wisdom of her(from her point of view) impressive age, is that good days can be just as un-fun as bad days if there was nothing to do. So in the spirit of making a good-but-un-fun day into a good-and-very-fun-day Hootsie took the liberty to slip under the loose flap of the beast tent and out into the grassy area where all of the horses grazed. Taking no mind of the panicked whickers and snorts of the fickle ponies, she sets her beak to the breeze and treads up the worn path out to the stand of trees currently obscuring the staff wagons from view. 
The air of the Carnivalé carries with it a bombardment of different smells. It’s always overwhelming whenever they set up at a new location, adjusting from the relatively constant scent of the carnies and the wagons, their beasts of burden and their cargo, but they’ve been here a few days and already her brain has worked to filter the new sensory input to make it more manageable; such that it’s a simple task to zero in on the deep aroma of parchment and canvas and something distinctly feline. An even simpler one to follow it. 
Uncle Frosty has shared space with her and her Dad for as long as she could remember. Whether it be tents or tavern rooms or most recently their nice wagon, where one is the other follows. They balance each other, Hootsie thinks. The stoic tiger and her effusive father, one always preventing the other from swinging too far into their respective extremes. Both kind hearted and wise beyond their years, each in his own way. Though she is just a little owlbear so really who is she to say. 
Regardless it is he who sits calmly in the center of the small space, legs crossed and eyes shut on a small mat he keeps with his many meticulously organized belongings. Hootsie tries hard not to make a sound and disrupt the serene atmosphere but she trips on a half carved block of wood and triggers a concentrated avalanche of clothes and band memorabilia from the interwoven clutter of her father’s side of the room. Thankfully it all finds its own way to the floor carefully and in a much neater fashion than it had previously been, due in large part she suspects to the mind magic she has come to associate with her Uncle. Her suspicions are confirmed when she feels a gentle not-quite-there pressure scratching behind her ear accompanied by the crisp scent of chilly mountain air. 
“I apologize I don’t have any rat snacks for you right now, but if you will wait until I am finished meditating perhaps we can go and find some.” 
Offering an affirmative Chirr in response, Hootise moves to a plush owlbear bed(definitely not just a big dog bed) set against the wall. Old and worn, with more patches than original fabric, the bed is nonetheless plump and slightly overstuffed as she circles three times before laying her head down on her paws. More often than not she just sleeps in bed with her Dad but he says it’s important for her to have her own space as she grows up(even if it does take up almost a quarter of the floorspace of their wagon).
Uncle Frosty had tried to explain the concept of his meditation to her before, something about emptying your mind and becoming at peace with the universe, but truth be told she had just nodded until he gave her a rat. Regardless, it's more peaceful than the chaos of the beast tent and her toys are here: an army of little wooden figurines her Dad had made her: detailed carvings of all of the characters from Sea Cucumber Robert Rectangle Trousers, an ever expanding cast of monsters each of which her father had named and taught her the significance of, and a wooden representation of her strange family(though to a little previously orphaned owlbear it’s not that strange at all), complete with a painstakingly accurate Hootsie made of aromatic pine. 
Later, one Gricko Grimgrin rushes about the Carnivalé in a state of utter panic. Searching for his wayward adorable-lovely-perfect daughter. In all of the excitement of being waylaid by Kremy and then almost trampled by an agitated Oliphaunt he’d somehow lost track of her and after searching the entirety of the beast tent, the big top, and the rigged games he’ll admit he’s started to lose his famed collected and indifferent demeanor. 
“Hootsie! Hootsie! Hootsie, where are you?” Not pausing for so much as an answer, the flustered goblin continues rushing through the rows of canvas and out towards the collection of brightly painted wagons. Bursting through a green and red painted door he shouts: “Frosty you gotta come quick! Hootsie is missing and I can’t find her anywhere!”
“Careful Gricko, you’re about to cross the picket line.” A cool voice cautions. 
Taking a moment to examine the scene in front of him, he sees a variety of wooden figures placed purposefully about the room. On Frosty’s side of the rug stands little wooden Kremy and Gideon and, is that Necky? As well as (he thinks) Mr. Lobster and the sea cucumber himself under a building made of stacked books. Outside, a line of figures hold tiny parchment-scrap signs, at their forefront being tiny birch Frost and Hootsie. Speaking of; his daughter herself sits, enraptured by the tableau, a paper beside her covered in colorful scribbles under a pristinely penned headline reading ‘Notes’. 
“We’re learning about ethical labor practices.”
“Uh-huh. You know the last time I brought that up I woke up in the back of the wagon on the way to a farm.”
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