#Anyways you can always tell how tired and delirious I am by how much my posts don’t make sense | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

angelwithdemonictendencies · 1 year

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how different is a heated scowl from a delirious kiss, really; or maybe i’m just focusing too religiously on your mouth.

ax72 x reader: he’s the worst until he isn’t.

(warnings: lots of plot in addition to blasphemous filth (really...i got carried away), unprotected penetrative sex (m on f), hair pulling (hello, old friend), choking (hello, older friend), biting (i can’t write him without it), praise, all my usual stuff (you guys know what i’m about), just be warned. don’t read if you’re not 100% sure.) gif is not mine.)

(a/n: okay, so thanks to the xhekaj girls and guys and such for coming out of their wifi routers to encourage me to write for him again. when i tell you i started to write this and i could not stop...i got so carried away with the tension and backstory like you just wouldn’t believe - you’ll see what i mean. so apologies to those who come for the sex and that’s it (pun not intended). what can i say, ax72 brings out the writer in me, the romantic even. yes, you have a little brother now, congratulations! to the jh86 lovers: he is next and i am already getting carried away writing that one, so that’s coming soon (but please continue to be gentle and patient with me. if i’m taking a long time, it’s only because i care, and i want it to be good for you). yeah, people don’t talk like this in real life, yeah darling doesn’t make sense, yeah, but, have you considered that maybe i write what the world should be, not what it is? anyways, thanks for the love, the generosity, please continue to interact and message and such (it’s how i know what you guys like!) let’s hope the leafs can hang on. go canucks even in the offseason. i’m sending love and all the wonderful things. see you soon.

you’d been driving your younger brother to and from hockey practice for the last three years, since he first started playing, when his helmet was far too big for his head, so much so that you thought if he leaned forward he would topple over entirely.

and in all those years, he had never come out of the rink like this, posture slouched, face empty, dragging his feet. his bag of equipment looked like it weighed a million pounds, full of bricks. his rosy, round face, usually so joyful on the way out of those doors, so eager to tell you about practice, looked positively exhausted, done, physically and emotionally.

you rolled down the window as he walked up. “what’s wrong, bug?” you asked, tried to make your voice strong-willed so as not to upset him further.

he shrugged, lugged his stuff into the trunk. “tough practice,” he said, sounding like an adult, which you hated. the effort with which he spoke settled in your stomach, plumed into volcanic anger. “new coach.”

you furrowed your brows as he shut the trunk and climbed into the front seat. “new coach? i liked your old coach.”

“he’s still there,” he said, “but we have a new assistant. he’s a little-” he took a breath, again making him look older than he was. “tough.”

you searched his eyes for some kind of meaning, found only the resigned bitterness you so despised whenever you saw it in yourself. without another thought, you drove to the nearest open spot and put the car in park.

“why are we parked?”

you made to get out of the car. “you look tired, bug. just going to go get you a gatorade, okay?” something lighter flashed across his eyes, making you smile. little by little, you would do what you could to undo whatever this coach had done, unload this burden he had so carelessly thrown onto the shoulders of your brother. “don’t open the door for anyone, yeah? i’ll be right back.”

you locked the car behind you and made your way into the rink for the first time this season, found it practically identical to how you remembered it. you scanned the ice for the older man you knew, then locked eyes with him and waved him over with a smile, one you didn’t have to force. this coach had always been kind to you as well as your brother.

“hey, kiddo!” he said fondly as he approached.

“hi, coach,” you replied, the chill in the air tinting your cheeks.

“your boy should be out already, yeah? practice ended about fifteen minutes ago,” he said, looking at his watch.

you nodded. “he’s in the car. i just need to talk to this new assistant he was telling me about.”

understanding flashed across the older man’s eyes. “right, xhekaj, he’s helping us out during the rest of his off season. part of this program his club set up.” he turned in the opposite direction. “xhekaj! want you to meet someone,” he called out.

the man across the ice turned from where he had been collecting pucks, set them on the bench, and skated over. as he got closer, you observed how he was impressively graceful for what may have been the most physically imposing man you had ever seen.

he was tall, almost menacingly so on skates, and so broad that you had to remind yourself not to cower back. his dark hair, which looked so soft, curled at the ends is a just barely feminine way. you told yourself that you did not notice the way his sweatpants strained over his legs, or how massive his hands were, or how sharp his jawline was.

you were here for your brother. you would not be intimidated. nor, you amended, would you be distracted.

he glided to an effortless stop in front of you, a motion that looked as simple as breathing.

“this is our new assistant coach, arber xhekaj,” the head coach said, gesturing to the wall of a man next to him. “xhekaj, this is sixteen’s sister. i’m sure you’ll be seeing a lot of her this season, if you behave,” he said with a lighthearted smile that lit up his weathered face.

you forced your gaze to meet arber’s for the first time, found his eyes running over your frame, making your exhale come out short and choppy. you crossed your arms as his eyes finally locked on yours, something like shameless mirth shimmering over his face. his lazy smirk shook you off balance and set a slow-burning fuse aflame in your stomach. you cut your gaze back to the older coach.

“i’ll leave you to it. good to see you, kid.” the familiar man said as he skated off with a nod.

when you turned back to face arber, his eyes were already on you. maybe they hadn’t left. “what can i do for you, darling?” he asked, that slow smirk playing on his full mouth. you suffocated the sparks his address ignited, instead funneled them into your anger, letting it simmer and grow.

“you could start by telling me why my little brother looks like he’s been kicked in the stomach,” you offered.

any playfulness was gone from his eyes in a moment. “there’s always one, eh?” he asked no one in particular.

“what?” you snapped.

he crossed his arms across his expanse of a chest. “there’s always one. parent, or sister, or whatever, who can’t handle their kid actually being pushed in practice.” he said, sounding bored. he looked you up and down, again. you didn’t find it any less unnerving. “least i know who it is.”

“i can handle him being pushed!” you bit out.

“yeah?” he asked, tilting his head. “this is you, handling it?” he gave a look of false understanding. “the picture of calm and poise, truly.”

you pursed your lips. “hockey is supposed to be fun first. and he did not have fun today.” you did not back down, nor let your posture falter. “so next practice, i expect to see him smiling when he walks out.”

you could have punched that smirk off his face. “yeah? or what, darling?”

“or you’ll be seeing a lot more of me than you’d like,” you said.

“promise?” he asked, his voice overripe with teasing.

you turned to leave, beginning the walk back.

“so you came in here just to whine at me?” that deep voice called from behind you. you could feel his eyes burning into you. “don’t waste your time. i’ve got lots of pretty girls asking around for me, darling.”

“oh, don’t flatter yourself. you just happened to be here,” you called back. “i only came in to get a gatorade.”

you smiled at his lack of response before grabbing two yellow gatorades from the snack bar and getting back into the car.

“that was long,” your brother said, barely looking up from the game on his phone.

“sorry, bug,” you said, placing the bottles in the cupholders before pulling away onto the road. “line like you wouldn’t believe.”

luckily, he seemed to be in much better spirits.

still, later that night, as you tried to fall asleep, you couldn’t help but look up the name “arber xhekaj.” it was so you could familiarize yourself with your opponent. that’s how you rationalized it.

and of course his stats were impressive, if not especially physical. but even if he was a professional hockey player, he had messed with the wrong family. you refused to let him forget that.

so, the next day, when your brother came out of the rink again looking defeated, you could have growled.

“bug,” you said, parking the car, “i need to talk to your coach, okay? do you want to wait here?”

“i’ll wait here,” he said.

you located arber immediately, your gaze fixed to him almost magnetically. but he found you quickly, too, without any signal, that smirk materializing as he skated over to you.

“let me guess,” he said, sliding to a stop and leaning on the side of his stick, almost comically long. “baby brother didn’t think practice was as fun as disney land?” he gave a theatrically dramatic pout, drawing attention to his lips. your attention, that is. “listen, darling, i’m not making eight-year-olds fight to the death. they’ve got a coach for the fun stuff. i’m here so they actually get better.”

that actually made sense. you licked your lips. “i’m all for getting better,” you said, trying a more gentle approach.

“that’s great to hear,” he said monotonously, anticipating a “but.”

“but there doesn’t need to be a good-coach bad-coach dynamic. you can push them and still be nice. be positive and fun.”

he gave a low laugh before turning away, obviously done with this conversation. “maybe some people can, darling, but not me. that’s not me.”

you felt his laugh like a seismic wave, throwing you off balance. again. “and who’s this ‘you’ you mean?” you asked, growing heated at his dismissal of your simple request. “the blank scoresheet except for penalty minutes? the pretty boy who can’t play?”

his laugh this time came from deep in his chest. you hated how it made your stomach turn.

“aw, darling,” he cooed, voice deep and lazy. “you really think i’m pretty?”

you huffed before turning to walk out of the rink, unsuccessful. it irked you how he could make you so uneasy, but you couldn’t do the same to him.

“try not to get too hot and bothered when you watch my highlights tonight!” he called out after you.

you clenched your teeth at the obvious joy your anger evoked in him, and vowed that you would not engage with him again for the rest of the season. it didn’t get you anywhere, and if you were as kind as you could be to your brother, maybe you could help prepare him to stand up for himself instead of trying to fight his battles for him.

so, for the two weeks, you didn’t go into the rink. you stuck to your routine of dropping off and picking up, no funny business, no extracurriculars with certain assistant coaches.

“make your own fun today, okay, bug?” you told him before he got out of the car.

and slowly, he stopped dragging his feet on the way to your car. his smile came quicker, easier, lighting up the round, rosy cheeks that you so loved. and so the image of those quicksand brown eyes faded to the back of your mind.

until one afternoon, when the very figure you were trying to forget was carrying your brother’s hockey bag, walking right behind him. you rolled down the window after your brother had gotten into the front seat and arber had easily swung the bag into the trunk.

he then walked around and leaned on the side of the car, his forearms resting on the open window.

“say thanks, bug,” you nudged your brother.

“thanks, coach,” he said, a but of a smile in his voice.

arber waved a hand as if to dismiss it. “no problem,” he said, his hand resting on the window again. your eyes widened momentarily at the sheer size of his hand, of him. when you tore your eyes up to meet his, he was smirking.

“distracted, darling?” he asked, false innocence drenching his gaze.

you rolled your eyes, but you felt yourself blush. “i’m glad to see everyone in good spirits,” you said, hoping he would catch onto the meaning. “really.”

“well,” he drawled. “i think i might have to start being especially tough.”

“what?” you said, all business in tone. “why?”

“because i can’t have you staying out here in the car, darling,” he said, tilting his head. “and you only visit me when you’re mad.”

you shook your head, felt your blush deepen. “i do not visit you, arber,” you said.

his face lit up at the sound of his name on your lips. “right, you just ask around about me and read my stats to help you sleep.” he said through a cocky grin. “you’ll be at family skate, yeah?”

you bit your lip, noticed how his eyes followed the movement, stopped immediately.

“you’re always at family skate,” your brother observed, not looking up from his phone. you slapped him good-naturedly on the shoulder.

“then i’ll see you there,” arber said, handing two yellow gatorades to your brother. he slapped the side of the car twice before pulling back, his smile that of a school boy who charmed his way into extra dessert at lunch.

you put the car in drive so he wouldn’t see your face, completely vulnerable, completely touched. “i’m still mad at you,” you called out the window as a last resort.

“good,” he called back, running a hand through his hair. “like you mad.”

you groaned and slapped your hand on the steering wheel as you pulled out of the parking lot, trying to stop yourself from becoming endeared. trying.

family skate came faster than you wanted. but, soon enough, the day was here, and there you were, in the family locker room, already cold, and failing miserably at tying your rental skates.

“bug, how you you do this?” you asked to your right, but he had already gone out to the ice. you huffed, reached for the laces again.

“need some help, darling?”

you looked up to find him leaning against the doorframe, face lit up with amusement. you didn’t have the time or patience to turn him away.

“yes, please,” you said, and watched his eyes grow dark, if only for a second. he cleared his throat and made his way over, touching one knee to the ground in front of you.

suddenly the air felt hot, the chill completely melted away as he looked up at you. a welcome change of pace from you always looking up at him.

“can i touch you?” he asked, looking at you through his lashes, dark and full.

you coughed.

his laugh was a grumble. “just to tie your skates, darling, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

you felt yourself flush across your nose. “i know,” you tried, “and it’s fine.”

he smirked at your response as he gently tugged one of your legs towards him by your calf, his grip firm and warm, so much so that you felt a loss when he took his hand off of you, used both hands to pull the laces of your skates taut and tie them up.

the silence only made things worse, heightened the heat that was growing in your stomach, the heat you were sure he could feel radiating from you.

he finished one skate by tying a bow. “how’s that feel?”

was he doing that on purpose? “perfect,” you said, as confidently as you could.

he hummed in affirmation as he began to tie the second one, tugging your other calf towards him and shifting forward on his knee.

you trained your gaze on the ceiling as he finished up.

“something interesting up there?” he asked as he tied a bow, looking up at you. “are they projecting my sports center feature on the ceiling?”

you rolled your eyes, actually happy that he was lightening the atmosphere, which had grown uncomfortably heavy and expecting.

he smiled at your reaction, then knocked the toes of your skates together twice. at your inquisitive look, he pushed himself off of his knee. “superstition,” he explained, then extended a hand to you. “let’s go, your bug will be wondering where you are.”

you hoped he thought your flush was from the cold as his hand enveloped yours and pulled you to your feet.

you shook off the effect he had on you as you stepped onto the ice, not necessarily a talented skater but good enough to move slowly and not hold onto the boards. your brother found you quickly and began to skate circles around you, literally.

“alright, alright,” you said, a smile on your face. “let’s keep in mind that you actually play hockey, and i very much do not.”

for the next half hour, you skated around with your brother, engaging in polite conversation with the parents and kids on the ice with you. you did, however, remain crucially aware of arber’s presence, could still feel his hands on your calves, his grip on your fingers.

eventually, you decided to lean against the boards to catch your breath. before long you felt him next to you. “had enough?” he asked.

you pushed yourself off the boards. “nope,” you said, willing stability into your legs.

he grinned, easily gliding alongside you as you moved forward. “are you sure you’re related to your brother?” he said. “he’s such a natural skater.”

“and?” you pressed, pretending to be offended.

he laughed before spinning to face you, skating backwards in front of you, his hands in his pockets.

“show off,” you scoffed.

“you can’t take your eyes off me, darling. it’s okay, you can be honest with me.”

“don’t be cocky,” you said.

“like you don’t love it.” at your reaction, his smirk only deepened. “keep rolling those pretty eyes, darling, not foolin’ me.”

you shook your head, tried to will the blush away. “you’re a defensemen. it’s literally your job to skate backwards.”

“i forget you research me in your free time,” he said with a small scrunch of his nose. you shook your head, to which he did the same. “that’s a lie,” he added, “i think of it often, actually.” fire blossomed between you. “of you.”

the truth in his eyes made you stumble, falling forward, right into him. one of his arms steadied your hip, the other reaching all the way around your back to hold you up, both of your hands flat against his chest. you tilted your neck back to look at him, found exactly what you were afraid of. what you were feeling, reflected back at you.

you were sure that when he let you go, there would be a scorched imprint of his hand on your hip.

“you can let go of me, now,” you said, your voice little more than a whisper.

a meaningful pause settled between you before he replied. “you’re right,” he said, his thumb making circles on your hip. “i could.”

you swallowed, feeling your eyes grow drowsy, almost intoxicated with the feeling of him so close, all around you. your gaze dropped to his mouth, slowly made its way back up to his eyes, so dark and deep. his embrace around you tightened. was he leaning forward?

a cough from beside you snapped you out of your trance. you practically leapt out of his arms.

there your brother stood, holding his helmet. “ready to go?” he asked, looking between the two of you.

“yup,” you croaked, clearing your throat. “let’s go, bug.”

you sped through the process of returning your skates and getting back in the car, desperate to avoid arber. on the drive home, you worked to come up with a plan on how to avoid him, as you knew he was a terrible idea. a terrible, horrible idea that would only leave you hurt and unable to enter the rink ever again.

so, you decided you would give it a couple weeks, give whatever you were feeling time to fizzle out, give yourself time to forget about him, your body some time to adjust, forget this temptation. you would park your car in a different place than usual, tell your brother to carry his own bag, that it was good for his independence.

and, for a while, it worked, at least well enough. but, one day, when your brother got back into the car, he said, “coach arber asked about you today.”

you tried to ignore the reaction even his name stirred up within you. “yeah? what did he say?”

“asked why you haven’t been in,” he said, looking out the window.

you maintained your composure. “and what did you say?”

“just that you usually wait out in the car now. in a different spot.”

“fuck,” you mumbled before you could stop yourself.

so, the next day, you weren’t necessarily surprised to see arber trailing behind your brother on his way out.

you looked at your hands, gripping the steering wheel. had it always been so hard not to stare at his lips? when had the spark in your stomach ignited into something devastating?

you were still staring straight ahead when his laugh cut through the air. “what’re you doing out here, darling?” he asked, leaning on the side of the window. “watching a compilation of my fighting majors?”

you shook your head, choked out a laugh, let yourself look at him in the eyes, finally. it felt like water after a drought. did you sigh in relief?

he smirked at your reaction, and you knew you were gone. “i know you’re avoiding me,” he said.

“i’m not,” you protested.

he cut you off with a look. “you are. and i know why.”

“yeah?” you asked, moments of his arms around you and his lips, so close, flashing across your mind.

he nodded, leaning forward, straining his forearms. “which is why you’re going to come to my home opener this weekend.”

you scoffed. “i’m not going to that.”

he grinned, a real one full of teeth and joy. you melted. “you are,” he said. “i have a ticket for you, and a jersey. your bug has them both.”

incredulous, you shook your head, suddenly jittery. “arber.” this smile could have convinced you to do terrible, terrible things. “i’m not doing this.”

but he just slapped the side of the car twice and began to pull back. “i can’t force you to,” he said. “but i want you there, darling. i want you there, for me.”

you groaned as you put the car in drive.

“please?” he said, his tone telling you that he knew he was victorious.

“i’m not,” you called out.

he only laughed as you drove away.

and just as he expected, you found yourself at the game, early enough to see warm ups, right by the glass. every couple of minutes you would groan internally at yourself. what did you think you were doing here? in a jersey with his number on your back?

you couldn’t just say yes to everything he asked because he had a pretty smile, and because he was just so big, and because making him laugh felt like a prize you were so determined to win. or because of the heat that so frequently now seared across his eyes when he looked at you, or because his forearms were impossible to ignore when he rested them on the window of your car.

you were lost in thought when the team finally skated out onto the ice for warmups, but lucidity found you immediately, as he was better in real life than he was in your memories, in your imagination.

you watched with admiration as he skated and shot a couple pucks, swallowed when he stretched near center ice, your eyes never straying far from his number, not expecting him to acknowledge you at all.

but as the clock counted down, after one lap around their half, he stopped, faced away, before moving backwards and hitting his back into the glass, directly in front of you. and he wasn’t even looking at you, but you knew he was there, and you knew he knew you were, too.

you didn’t know what to do, until you knew exactly what to do.

after a moment, you reached forward and gently slapped the glass twice, like he had done to your car so many times before. you smiled to yourself as he immediately took off, moving full speed towards the bench and down the tunnel.

a ritual that you both understood, wordlessly and perfectly.

the seat that arber had reserved for you was not with the other guests of players. instead, you found yourself sitting directly next to the penalty box. you breathed out a laugh as you sat down.

the game was fun to watch. arber was breathtaking. his size, his speed, his brutal physicality, it was all on full display, and you couldn’t take your eyes off of him.

especially late into the third period, when one of the wingers on the other team landed a nasty hit on one of arber’s teammates. you had a feeling you knew what was coming, but you had never seen a fight in person, never mind seen this side of arber before.

as soon as his gloves came off, your breath caught. the other guy didn’t stand a chance. you squeezed your legs together as he threw a hook that upended both of their helmets, winced as the other skater landed a hard blow to his jaw, bit your lip as arber grabbed the winger’s jersey and threw him to the ice.

you exhaled a deep breath as the refs skated both players off into their boxes, your eyes trained on arber’s face as he ran a hand, cracked and bleeding, through his damp hair, then stepped into the box and sat down.

you let your gaze drip over him like a melting popsicle. it was some kind of cruel punishment to be so close to him, only separated by a pane of glass. partially because he was in a sort of pain, that was obvious. his chest was heaving, his lip was split, swollen, his jaw was already beginning to bruise.

but the heat inside of you, now too powerful to ignore, that was a different urge entirely. an urge to sit across his lap, only further tempting when he spread his knees wide, as he was doing now. an urge to hold his face in your hands, to kiss away his pain, to give him something else to focus on, to make him focus on you.

how badly you wanted him to be able to focus on nothing but you.

an urge to know what his lips felt like on yours, what his hands felt like around your neck, what he felt like inside of you, that was becoming the more pressing urge. you crossed your legs tighter.

you should probably look back at the ice, at the game. you wouldn’t want to give yourself away.

before you could turn away though, you noticed that his mouth was forming words, but he wasn’t talking to anyone.

and that smirk had only ever been just for you.

“you’re staring, darling,” he mouthed.

you flushed, turned away abruptly, didn’t need to see his cocky grin grow wider still.

the game ended, and you still felt like you were on fire. if you didn’t do something about it, would this torture last forever? would you go forever wondering? forever, wanting?

possible outcomes flashed across your mind. but the longer you thought about it, the more your willpower dissolved into something else, something weaker, more forgiving, until you couldn’t quite remember why you had disliked him so much when you had first met him. until any negative consequences seemed deliciously inconsequential.

so, when he came out down the tunnel, ready to go home, you were there, and his smile was a dream. the smile of a person who knew they had won, finally and entirely.

“darling,” he greeted as he walked up. “glad you came.”

you nodded. “me too,” you said, stood in front of him, practically chest to chest, looking up at him, electricity humming between you.

“yeah?” he reached out, tilted your chin up further to search your gaze. a pause filled with meaning settled. “you have something you want to say?”

you bit your lip, relished in the way his next breath came out shallow, nodded.

“tell me, darling.” you couldn’t refuse him if you wanted to.

your exhale came out shaky. “just want you so bad, arber,” you all but mumbled. “can’t take it.”

his eyes flashed, dangerous. one arm came around your back and tugged you closer. “fuck, why didn’t you tell me sooner?” he rasped. “pretty girls like you never have to wait.”

you whimpered at the sensation of him pressed into your front, felt him hard against you.

“gonna give me a kiss?” he asked, rough and low, before you pushed yourself up on your toes to meet his lips, tender and bruised. he moaned into your mouth at the only-just painful pressure, you wrapped your arms around his neck, grasped at the hair at the nape of his neck, the soft, damp, curls you had been dreaming about since you first saw him.

you whined as one of his hands squeezed a handful of your hip, felt that burning need only intensify. he angled his hips so you could feel what you were doing to him, which only made you whimper.

“please, please,” you breathed, “i need to feel you, arber. need you, now.”

he smiled into your mouth, and your lips would never be the same. “oh, pretty baby, so needy, hm?”

you nodded, twisted his curls around your fingers, long past feeling embarrassed.

his bandaged hand enveloped yours. “come on, then,” he said, pulling you towards the exit, through the doors. “fuck, don’t think i can wait, either.”

you finally reached his car, parked far from the venue, far from any other car. every second without kissing him was a second lacking. he opened the car door, reached an arm underneath you, and picked you up, holding you against his front as he lowered you both into the backseat.

you immediately buried your face into his neck, letting your lips leave your mark on him like he had more permanently, less physically done to you. he groaned, tilted his hips up into you, gripped your hips and led you in a rhythm across his lap, the friction making you devastatingly impatient.

“‘m ready for you,” you mumbled into his neck, taking one of his hands from your hip and guiding it down so that he could feel you.

he moved your clothes aside, ran his thick fingers through your folds, making you gasp. “so wet, darling,” he rasped, “what made you so needy, hm?”

he wrapped his other hand gently around your throat, squeezed only slightly, pulled you back to look at him, the gaze between you liquid metal.

you whimpered, which made him increase the pressure around your neck, just a bit. “i know you want to be good for me,” he rasped. “so, tell me.”

“you did,” you breathed out. “seeing you.”

“yeah? pretty baby likes it when i fight, hm?” he let go of your neck, tugged his own clothes aside to free his cock, groaned when you spit into your hands and immediately began to stroke him.

“not just the fight,” you said, “just you, arber. fuck, you make me like this.” he let out a sound like a growl, grew impossibly hard and thick at your words, at your hands.

“you make me crazy, darling,” he bit out as he reached an arm under you again to lift you up. “have been since i first saw you. ready?”

you answered him by sinking down onto him entirely, the stretch euphoric, both of your noises even more so. you tilted your head back, mouth falling slack.

“hm, feel so perfect,” he rasped, pushed two fingers into your open mouth, groaned when you bit down on them gently. “good girl, so perfect for me.”

you scrunched your eyes shut and focused on his fingers in your mouth as he began to thrust up into you, making that stretch feel even deeper, like he was becoming a part of you. “so big,” you whined, the words distorted by his hand. “don’t know if i can, arber.”

he didn’t stop, if anything thrust harder. “you can, pretty baby,” he cooed. “you’re gonna make me feel so good, yeah?”

and you couldn’t help but nod, overwhelmed with the desire to do just that, to be the person to do that. you began to fuck back into him, brought your hips back to meet him thrust for thrust.

you whined as you clenched around him, wrapped a hand around his wrist and guided his hand from your mouth down to your clit. he immediately began to tease you, adding to the sensation.

“hm, arber, you fuck me so good,” you said roughly, snaking a hand into his hair and raking your nails down his neck. “fuck, so good.”

he gave a thrust that was slow, deliberate, making you feel him in your teeth. “yeah, darling? better than how you imagined?”

you nodded before you knew what you were confessing to, couldn’t find it in yourself to care when his smirk told you that you had been found out. you just lowered your mouth to his shoulder and bit into it to muffle your moans. he hissed.

“‘s okay,” he said, his thrusts speeding up, his motions on your clit drawing you closer. “you’re better than i imagined, too.”

you clenched around him at his words, felt yourself flush, grow so dangerously close.

he moaned into your hair. “fuck, darling, look so fucking pretty like this.” he took his other hand from your hip to your stomach, placing pressure there so you felt him even deeper. you winced, just there, your rhythm on top of him faltering. “be a good girl and cum for me, yeah?”

you collapsed into his chest as you reached an angelic high, gushing around him and pushing him to his own orgasm, his moan a desperate rasp as he stilled inside of you. his breathing was hard and hot as you caught your own breath, fisting his shirt in one of your hands as the other rested around his neck.

he brought one arm around your back, held you to him as the other grasped the back of your neck and snaked into your hair. the windows of the car had fogged up like a rainy day, and both of your faces were rosy with exertion and satisfaction.

you hummed as he rubbed circled into your lower neck with his thumb.

“like my number on you,” he murmured, breaking the comfortable silence that could have been a decade.

“me too,” you agreed, a small smile playing across your mouth. “like you on me.”

“yeah?” he asked, a lazy grin on his swollen lips. “me too.”

and you let out a sigh, so content. and he kissed the top of your head. and both of you would have been happy to stay here forever, watching the fog drip from the windows like thinning honey.

fin.

#nhl #nhl smut #nhl fanfiction #hockey #hockey smut #hockey fanfiction #fanfiction #smut #arber xhekaj #arber xhekaj smut #arber xhekaj x reader #montreal canadiens #nhl fluff #hockey fluff #jack hughes smut #trevor zegras smut #arber xhekaj imagine

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carnivalcarriondiscarded · 10 months

Note

Your butterfly Howdy- so so so obsessed!! please tell me you thoughts I love him!! The thought of him simply falling from his chrysalis in a big sopping mess is so real™ , true butterfly moment

i would be Delighted to Talk. i always am. i have many thoughts always about everything. especially This. gonna add a cut so there's not a wall of text on my blog

okay so 1) i don't think he'd give any warning that he's gonna turn into a chrysalis. probably because he wouldn't realize it's happening bc like... those good ol caterpillar instincts took over <3 also it probably made him very very eepy

in his perspective, he took a nap and woke up spontaneously Different. everybody else had to deal with a solid few weeks of him being a chrysalis. and it's not like he was resting inside it - there is soooo much going on in metamorphosis, caterpillars/butterflies Do Not Rest At All

so when he emerges from the chrysalis (as a pathetic wet rag of a man <3) he's just... so out of it. his memory is a little fucky for a bit, he's weak, & he's exhausted to the point where the only time he's awake is to eat (gotta get that energy back!). that's it. he's dead asleep, wakes up, demolishes an entire bowl of fruit, and passes back out. can't even speak coherently.

he slowly gains lucidity until he's functional. he has a small period of time where he's kind of delirious/loopy from an overdose on Sleep, and it's hell on earth for everyone to deal with. i like to think that his main Watchers during this time are Poppy and Barnaby, both bc they're both big enough to wrangle him and bc of obvious reasons. (Poppy is a worrier and Barnaby is in love with Howdy)

when Howdy's loopyness wears off, he's still very tired and a bit spacey, but hey! he reopens the bodega! not that he needs to, since everyone was getting stuff from it anyway. he has a lot of IOU's in the never-used cash register <3 and lots of sweet notes. everyone missed him <3

so for a while when he's functional-but-Exhausted, he's a bit of a grouch. he simply does not have the energy to deal with Shenanigans and Excitement. if anyone walks into the bodega he's basically like "get your shit and get out, thank you, bye". he still sometimes nods off at the counter. eepy eepy bug.

and i don't think he'd really like his new appearance at first? i get the vibes that he Didn't want to pupate OH MY GOD THAT'S THE WORD! I'VE BEEN USING CHRYSALIZE WHICH ISNT EVEN A WORD BC I FORGOT 'PUPATE'. FUCK!, so he was subconsciously putting it off and was able to live for such a long time as a caterpillar.

but oopsie! he lost the battle of biological will! now he's got So Much Fluff and wings and claws and longer antennae and like... he's blue now. that would probably be at least a little unsettling, especially since he didn't realize it was going to happen. also he has to tailor all of his clothes to fit the wings and the Fluff.

plus, i imagine butterfly/moth wings are a Bitch to deal with. they don't fold like bird or bat wings, and they're kinda delicate - though due to Howdy's size, i'm sure they're more durable than a normal butterfly's - so i bet they are Constantly In The Way. (Barnaby probably makes a joke about how "Eddie's supposed to be the clumsy one" after Howdy knocks over a display with his wings for the umpteenth time. cue Barnaby getting kicked out of the store)

it takes a while for Howdy to get them under Control. they'd probably give away ever emotion he has. angry/frustrated? fluttering like crazy. thinking happy/fluffy thoughts or daydreaming? slow opening-closing. sad/pensive? droopy wing cape. stressed/high-strung? closed tight like a book. etc.

(similarly, his antennae are Very expressive! this is not something he can control unless he focuses extra hard. within a week Frank has memorized what each curl and twitch means)

but once Howdy has reconciled with his new appearance & has wrangled his wings, He Is So Fruity And Even More Eccentric. he fell outta that chrysalis and went "im gay now! 🧚‍♂️💅" kidding Kidding. kind of.

idk why, just... i feel like he gets a confidence boost. he realizes hes a Pretty Boy™️. he's like "this is what it must feel like for Eddie when he does drag". he's got that extra fruity Flair yk yk.

and sure, flowers are a little more distracting to Howdy than they used to be, prefers fruit over greenery, and he can't resist taking a short break every day to sun his wings, but other than that things are mostly normal. he's just extra pretty now.

#FORGOT THIS HAS BEEN SITTING IN MY DRAFTS FOR LIKE. A WEEK OR TWO. FUCKING OOPSIES!#oh my god. Pause The Post. my cat dropped a whisker on my desk... ive been blessed...#her lil pointy whisker... d'aw....#AWWWWW ITS GOT A LITTLE CURL AT THE END <3<3<3 #anyway Anyway butterfly howdy.#i have More Specific thoughts for Scenes and tidbits but this post has gotten long enough #enjoy Enjoy!!#i hope this was coherent!#yassified howdy <3 #rambles from the bog #many laughingstock thoughts as well for butterfly howdy. so many thoughts...

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gingersnaaps · 3 years

Text

sandman

to be taken by sleep really isn't such a bad thing - not when osamu's the one waiting in your dreams.

wc: 3.2k

tags/tw's(PLEASE READ): explicit n*fw, dubcon, creampie, breeding mentions, penetration, fingering, sex dreams, sleep paralysis, incubus!osamu vibes, vaguely supernatural, you fall asleep forever at the end, fem!reader with inner genitals

a/n: written for @ultimate-astridwriting's wonderful collab and inspired by my recent stint of sleep deprivation also i feel like i may have strayed a bit from the prompt but oh well

i don’t want minors interacting with my content

You can’t recall when Miya Osamu first started appearing in your dreams.

It was a subtle thing at first: the features of strangers, normally blurred beyond recognition, melded into his half-lidded eyes and soft smile, and you’d catch glimpses of his face in the reflection of windows and out of the corner of your eye. You didn’t think too much of it. You’d read an article somewhere that mentioned how faces in one’s dreams came from the interactions in our real lives, and with how much you’d been frequenting his onigiri shop, you suppose that his appearances were to be expected.

Still felt a little strange for you to be having a dream so intimate, though.

You’re lying on top of his broad chest, one arm on your waist, the other resting gently on your thigh. His thumb rubs tender circles into your skin, stroking softly as you rise and fall with the movement of his chest.

“‘Miya?” you ask tentatively. “How did I end up here?”

He chuckles. It’s a deep, rich, sound, one that reminds you of rivers running steady and full moons in the countryside, the vibrations passing from his body to yours. When he speaks, his voice is low and a little quiet, but with his lips grazing your ear, you don’t miss a single word.

“Call me Osamu.”

The familiarity leaves your face slightly flushed, embarrassment tingling across your skin. He shifts you around in his arms, tilting your body so that you meet his warm, inviting, gaze. The hand on your thigh seems to burn red-hot, and you wonder if he can hear the heartbeat pulsing just inches away from his fingertips.

He smiles softly at you. “You’re a beautiful girl.”

Your heart seizes, malfunctions, pounds erratically-

You wake up in the dark, damp sheets clinging to your skin, heart skipping like a schoolgirl and drunk off the compliment from your dream.

There’s a bad ache in between your legs. You trail a hand down your front, fingers sliding into your pajama shorts to quell your want.

Dusk is falling across Tokyo when you head to Miya’s - no, Osamu’s - onigiri shop. Twilight makes giants of the pedestrians, stretches out the shadows that loom tall in the soft gray-orange of the setting sun, the darkened shapes scurrying through the city’s rush hour.

Unlike them, you’re not going home.

A busy schedule meant little time for home-cooked meals, and the food here really was excellent. When you push open the door to his shop, the jangle of a bell sounds somewhere above you, and Osamu barely looks up before a smile settles on his face.

“The usual, I suppose,” he says, beckoning you inside.

You nod gratefully. The atmosphere of the shop is comforting - there’s just a few customers trickling through, picking up their to-go order that he’s prepared. You pick a seat near the window, one that gives you an unobstructed view of the sunset outside.

The chatter dies down as the last customers leave the shop, their onigiri clutched in hand, and a peaceful silence descends on the space around you. He brings out your food just a few minutes later, setting the dish in front of you.

“As requested by my favorite customer,” he says, a wry grin on his face. “Glad to have you back tonight.”

Your stomach flutters at the closeness between the two of you, and you suddenly feel embarrassed - ashamed of how much you’d been thinking about him, of the dreams you’d been having, of the way his touch had left you wanting for more in those same dreams - but it’s a good kind of embarrassed, one that leaves excitement bubbling in your core.

It feels a bit like a crush.

“Couldn’t miss out on the food, could I?” you reply.

“So you’re only here for my onigiri.”

“I- no, of course not."

“Just teasing.”

He smiles crookedly, and for just a moment, there’s a knowing glint that flashes in his eyes - the kind of expression that makes it seem like he’s aware of more than he’s letting on - but it vanishes almost immediately, passing too quickly for you to be sure of anything.

He turns to go back inside the kitchen, lifting up a hand casually to wave goodbye. “See you soon.”

Upon your arrival home, the first thing you notice is how very tired you are.

It’s not too out of the ordinary - it was a Monday afternoon, after all, and that had always been your least favorite day of the week - but the minute you crash onto the couch, your eyelids seem to droop with sleep, limbs growing heavy as the room around you swirls into a half-conscious haze.

You’ve still got chores to take care of. There’s dishes from the morning to wash, laundry to fold and put away, a few work emails to respond to that were probably very important, but you just can’t seem to stave off the overwhelming fatigue that seeps through your veins and numbs your entire body.

You need to sleep.

So you let it happen. You let your eyes flutter shut, let yourself relax and melt into the soft cushions of the couch, let your mind go nice and blank and empty.

After you give up the struggle of staying awake, the dreams come quickly.

“Glad to have you back so soon.”

The warm, quiet, voice from yesterday rumbles somewhere above you. You’re laying on his chest again, ear pressed to the soft fabric of his faded black shirt. You make a small, confused, noise, but he just laughs, gently brushing aside your hair, a hand trailing down your body and creeping closer to your inner thigh.

His touch feels electric. Every brush of his fingertips against your thigh, feather-light and teasing, leaves you with your heartbeat thudding in your cunt.

“We’ve gotta get you ready,” he murmurs. “Prep you well enough so that you’ll feel good when the time is right.”

You clench around nothing at his words, and maybe he can feel it with his hand so dangerously close to your pussy, because he smiles lazily and asks, “Are you that desperate?”

You’re not sure whether you should deny it - he can probably tell you are, anyway, but the thought of nodding, of saying yes, ‘Samu, want it so fucking bad - it leaves you with your cheeks flushed hot with shame.

He doesn’t need your explicit confirmation to read the way your body twitches against his, though, and he moves his hand lower to cup around your pussy. His palm is warm, the pressure steady and constant as he holds his hand still against your throbbing cunt. You can’t help but squirm against him, sloppily grinding your clit against his waiting hand, bucking your hips back and forth for any friction you can get. You’re panting, breaths quick and shallow as you feel the drag of the cotton panties in between his skin and yours, and a lewd moan tumbles from your lips. “Touch me,” you mumble, voice thick with arousal.

You look so pretty down there, hair mussed and mouth open slack in a perfect o, getting off all by yourself - he should give you a hand, shouldn’t he?

He nudges your damp panties aside, the thin fabric creasing the fat of your pussy as he brings a thumb up to your clit. His ministrations start slow, circling your clit patiently while you writhe from the pleasure, just barely dipping his index finger into your hole, his long, dextrous fingers skilled and patient as he works to search out the sensitive spots that leave you gasping and delirious.

“I want you dripping,” he says softly, sliding his finger inside all the way to the base of his knuckle. “Want you spread out on my hand, soaking me through, wet enough for me to fuck you full.”

You shudder with anticipation at his words, hips wriggling and rutting against his stiffening cock as his finger drags along the ridges of your g-spot. Every movement of his is accompanied by an embarrassingly audible squelching noise, your cunt already swollen and hot with arousal, your slick running in a cool trail down the crease of your thigh.

He flicks his thumb against your clit, this time more harshly. “ ‘m gonna fill you up so good when you’re ready,” he whispers. “Fuck you until your pussy milks my cock dry.”

Your eyelids flutter, a rush of pleasure crashing down on you as he pops another finger inside. Your hand fists at his shirt weakly, grabbing and pawing at the fabric as he curls his fingers just right inside you.

“You’re gonna feel so fucking good, sweetheart.”

You wake up from your dream as an orgasm ripples through your body, eyes flying wide open as you squirm and thrash on the couch. The pleasure coiling tight inside your core unwinds, pulsing in your cunt as you moan.

The room is dark and empty.

You rub the sleep from your eyes, vision bleary as you reach for your phone - it reads 7:00 AM. You’ve slept for almost twelve hours.

As you get up, swinging your legs off the couch and righting yourself, you notice one intense, overwhelming, feeling that roots you to the couch and leaves your limbs limp and loose:

You still feel so tired.

The rest of the week seems to pass by in a blur. You’re so exhausted you can barely think straight, stumbling from your office to your home - and sometimes to Osamu’s onigiri shop - going about your life half-dazed and barely conscious.

The only respite you get is in sleep.

Your dreams have gotten particularly intense as of late, head clouding full of visions where you’re fucked in every position: shoved up against the wall, facedown in the mattress, and even hoisted up on the counter. Through it all, there’s one constant.

Miya Osamu features in every single one of them.

You know his voice by heart now, a low, quiet, rumble that both soothes you and sets your cunt thrumming with anticipation. His silver-gray hair, his round, half-lidded eyes, the softness and the warmth of his body - they’re as familiar to you as your own features by now. You’re pretty sure you’ve even memorized the feeling of his cock buried deep inside you.

In every dream, he whispers the most tantalizing promises in your ear, breathing promises of how he’s gonna fuck you so good, sweetheart, gonna fill you up, gonna breed this pretty pussy until you’re carrying my seed inside you.

And even though you never wake up well rested anymore, you find that you don’t particularly mind. After all, there’s not much you look forward to in your waking hours. Every grating hour you spend working your stupid little job, or attending your lengthy, useless, lectures - it all feels like you’re just going through the motions, like you’re just trying to make it through so that night falls sooner and he can finally come visit you.

The week comes and goes, and soon enough, it’s already Friday.

You stumble in through the front door, a yawn itching at your throat, and you head straight for your bedroom. You pass by the ever-growing stack of dirty dishes in the sink, the stack of bills on the countertop, the laundry you’ve left in the drying machine. You’ll get to it next week.

For now, you just want to sleep.

The bedroom is gloomy and dim, grey light from an overcast twilight filtering through the blinds. The room feels stuffy in the dark, the four walls suffocating the small space, but you don’t bother with turning on the lights. Why would you, when you plan on heading straight to sleep?

You undress clumsily, almost tripping as you pull off your pants and shrug off your blouse, and stagger into the soft, warm, embrace of your bed.

A warm burst of comfort surges through you as the familiar feeling of drowsiness overtakes you. Your eyelids grow heavy, lashes fluttering slightly, the thump of your heart slowing - you’re right on the precipice between the conscious and the unconscious, straddling the border between sleep and waking -

You hear a voice sound from shadowy recesses of your room.

It’s a voice you’d recognize anywhere.

“I missed you at my shop today.”

You open your mouth to respond, but no noise comes out. It’s as if your vocal cords have been plucked from your throat, your voice frozen somewhere deep inside your trachea, and the only sound you can make is that of silence. A bit belatedly, you realize that you can’t move either, your limbs settling uselessly at your side as you lie paralyzed on your back.

A head of gleaming, silver, hair emerges in front of you, and your breath catches in your throat. You’re not sure if this is a dream anymore.

You blink once, and suddenly, you find him in your bed. He’s hovering above you, arms pressed to either side of your head, gazing down with a hungry, hungry, expression. He’s waited all week for this, sweetheart - won’t you finally indulge him?

He pulls the comforter aside, large hands gliding over your body and hoisting up your hips. You feel like a ragdoll in his hands, limp and immobile, and he rearranges your limbs and positions you until he gains easy access to your ready, waiting, cunt - the same cunt that he’s been preparing all week.

He drags a finger through your slick folds, already wet and sticky from the ministrations of the previous few days. There’s no need to bother with prep. He can already feel the way your cunt pulses at his touch, can see the need etched into the gleam of your eyes even as the expression on the rest of your face remains frozen.

His hand glides over his clothed cock, strained and throbbing with need as he pulls it out and strokes slowly, eyes fixated on your body the entire time. His dick is big, flushed almost purple as cream beads at the tip, balls fat and full and heavy.

Osamu’s had enough of waiting.

With a groan, he pops his cockhead into your drooling, twitching, hole, pushing in steady, thrusting all the way into your tightening cunt until he hits your cervix.

“Feels so fuckin’ good,” he murmurs, face scrunched with pleasure. “So tight it feels like you’re trying to milk me dry.”

He rolls his hips slowly, dragging his cock along the front of your walls, the ridge of a vein pressing right into your sweet spot. Your legs twitch uselessly as he pulls halfway out before slamming his cock back in.

“I wonder if you’d like that,” he muses. He brings a thumb to rest at your puffy, swollen, clit, pressing down in steady circles, his touch unrelenting and firm, sending spasms of pleasure that leave you clenching and gripping down onto his thick cock.

“I think you would. I think you’d love it if I filled you up, if I fucked you full of cum and bred this tight little hole,” he says, the barest hint of an amused smile tugging at his lips. His voice is calm and steady - a striking contrast to his filthy words, his brazen promises.

His slow, steady, strokes quicken, hips slamming roughly into yours, each thrust satiating the want in your cunt. Your walls pulse as if they need to be filled, squelching lewdly as he fucks you hard and deep.

He leans down. His lips hover millimeters away from your forehead, just barely grazing your skin with tender, light, kisses. “Take it,” he whispers, thumb rubbing harshly at your clit. “Take it like a good girl for me. I know you can.”

The kisses he presses to your forehead start to travel down the underside of your jaw, soft little nips and bites with his blunt teeth that leaves a trail of his glossy spit on your face. His mouth finds your ear.

“When I cum, you better not waste a single drop,” he breathes. “Wanna fill you up, make you mine. I want to own this pussy.”

He brings his hand down to pat your stomach where your womb would be, rubbing the soft surface of your skin in tender circles. His balls are aching so badly - he needs to cum, needs that release, needs to stuff your messy cunt.

“Cum with me,” he urges. “Right now.”

The pleasure pulsing inside you draws taught - snaps - and you’re pushed over the edge. If you were still capable of speaking and moving, you’re sure you’d be moaning loudly, hips twitching uselessly as he creams your pussy over and over. He fucks you through your orgasm, spent cock softening inside you as you squeeze his dick. After all, he doesn’t want any of it to leak. He wants it sloshing around in your hole, filling you up until you’re warm and wet and sticky, wants to breed you, to mark you down as his.

You look beautiful with your insides stained white, he thinks.

You can feel your cunt twitching slightly as you come down from your high. He smiles warmly, gives your pussy a little pat -

You blink and he’s gone.

Almost as if he was never there in the first place.

Sleep takes you quickly after that. You’re exhausted from being fucked, exhausted from the constant stimulation, and you quickly fall fast asleep. All is silent and still in your darkened bedroom.

The next day, right as the sun starts to drop over the horizon, glinting stars nestled in the sky high above, you find yourself back in front of Osamu’s onigiri shop.

It’s partly due to the hunger gnawing in your stomach, but it’s more out of curiosity than anything. You need to know if it’s real, if he’s real, if the past two weeks were nothing but a fever dream.

And you really want to see him again.

As you push open the door to his shop, you’re greeted with his friendly smile, as usual.

“Same thing again?” he asks.

“Of course.”

The exhaustion hasn’t gone anywhere. You’re still constantly tired, always drifting off during the daytime, limbs weary and worn. When you sit yourself down at the usual spot - the table near the window - that irresistible fatigue seems to creep up on you again.

It’s so calm and comforting in his little shop. The lights are warm, the view is pretty, the quiet chatter of his few customers soothing to your ears. It’s so easy to rest your head in between your hands, shoulders slumping, mind empty of every little unimportant thought, so easy to just close your eyes, so easy to fall into the rose-tinted haze of your nice, pleasurable, dreams.

Osamu comes out of the kitchen in the back of the shop, carrying your food on a plate, and finds you fast asleep with your head on his table.

He’s not surprised. In fact, he’s quite pleased.

In fact, if he has his way, you’ll never have to wake up again.

tyvm for reading!! i really appreciate reblogs and comments - it's part of what motivates me to keep making content :)

here's my masterlist if you'd like more.

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enderwoah · 3 years

Text

ORIGINS SMP HEADCANONS (because i love them): SEASON TWO EDITION BAYBEEE

(this is really long ENJOY :gun:)

tommy

he is phil's son smile

phil's most recent son at least

he's got like one more somewhere

he picked this one up off the dangerous streets a few years ago and he's been sticking with phil ever since

his wings are small- not too small to fly, but they're untrained to the point where it would take a lot or work to get him off the ground

but at first, he didn't really seem to want to learn all that much?

(he has three scars on his face- all from trying to learn how to fly when he was younger)

(he gave up after the third one)

("if at first you don't succeed; try, try again" is his motto, and he tried all three times)

but!! phil and wilbur are very persuasive :) and now that he knows he can fly, he's not going to rest until he does

he's a little manipulative to get what he wants sometimes, but can you blame someone that lived on the street for so long?

he had to do that to survive! it's not his fault.

(it's a great excuse.)

he laughs like a kookaburra amen

he squawks when he gets scared

he chirps. he tries not to because it makes phil go absolutely bird-brained but he does sometimes and he hates it.

tubbo

NOW'S YOUR CHANCE TO BE A B[GUNSHOTS]

god he is. so fucking annoying (/rp)

he simply does not know when to stop

he ignores social cues to see when someone is annoyed

(see: he can read social cues. he does read social cues. when you get annoyed that's when he starts being more annoying, because you're more likely to give him what he wants to get him to shut the fuck up.)

he loves talking to (at) people, especially people he doesn't really know that well

so he's trying to be friends with ranboo, but the absolute prick keeps trying to avoid any actual conversations, so that's not working

he buzzes when he gets excited-happy

his fingertips are completely blackened and horrendously sharp, functioning as ten individual stingers

they don't do any actual damage but he's working on that

techno

wither hybrid (??)

how can you be a wither hybrid?? nobody got down and dirty with the wither

he's an experiment

the reason we haven't seen him yet? he's staying away from the main area of the smp

he doesn't want to ruin its natural beauty with his withering effect, so he keeps to himself on the outskirts of the smp

which sucks

withers get health from killing things

he's not fully a wither, so he gets energy from being around people and sort of draining their life force a little bit

he feels terrible when he's with just one person because they are Literally his life support and it makes the person feel like shit

when he's with a big group of people its great!! he only has to take a little bit from everyone and its barely noticable!!

but then there's the wither part. so he has to stay away.

he's always tired

always exhausted

he's a farmer, so taking it from animals works, but god does he miss people

but he can only visit a few times and for very short

(he's afraid that one of these days he'll get so bad that the next time he sees someone he'll accidentally kill them)

(it already happened once. he's blessed that he's been forgiven, even made friends with by the victims, but he doubts he'll be able to pull that off again with no consequences like last time)

wilbur

phantlings are dead elytrians, and given that wilbur was phil's son...he's a phantling

he died in the late 50s and was a librarian when he was alive, so he's very possessive (ha) over all of his things

you should never ask to "borrow" anything from him, he will hound you about it until you give it back

it's best to just say that you want something from him to keep

even if youre going to give it back

just for your own peace of mind

phantlings can feel fear and get a genuine feeling of elation from scaring people

of course, sometimes its unwelcome (feeling large amounts of fear from someone they care about in a bad way just makes them pissed)

but for the most part, wilbur loves appearing in the corner of people's visions just to jumpscare them a few minutes later

all in good fun, of course!! it's just hilarious :)

being the lighthearted, fun guy he is, he's not particularly secretive about his method of death

"how did i die? well, it all started -- ended -- on november 16th, 1958!"

"i walked out of the library late, since i took the shift for my wife since she was feeling sick and i worked there anyways,"

"the streets were dark and only lit up by gaslamps...and out of an alley...appeared..........."

techno.

he didn't mean it. wilbur isn't at all mad at him (anymore)

he was starving. he didn't know that one touch would be enough to fully revitalize him...

and murder wilbur where he stood.

sneeg

has details on everyone on the server

you Cannot Hide Shit From Sneeg

its impossible

if you find of his any shittly little mouse holes then you're doomed

you find one and there are twenty more

he's under your floorboards while you're having your important discussion about trapping the nether roof

sucks to suck ig??

he seems to be the favourite of many, which is weird since he rarely goes out of his way to actually talk to many people

he's the only person that tubbo doesn't actively try to annoy (or maybe he just doesn't find tubbo's antics all that annoying)

he's the only person that ranboo stays around (or maybe he stays around ranboo- he and Phil seem to be the only ones not off-put by his slightly sadistic and whiny demeanour (not counting tubbo, who annoys him anyways)

phil seems to be more protective of him than he thinks is normal (he lets sneeg ride on his shoulder while travelling, so he doesn't really complain)

niki is completely protective over him (again, not complaining)

contrary to popular believe, he does not get high from sugar

if anything he gets

high-per

(get it)

(high-per)

(hyper)

he's literally just a nine-year old getting a sugar rush leave him alone

phil

take the normal "bird-brain" headcanons and multiply it by like sixty-four

and you've got origins phil

he can't see glass- or, rather, he can, but it doesn't register that 'hey, this is a solid surface i am going to slam into'

its very funny for everyone else but he's pretty sure he has permanent brain damage from the blunt force trauma

if there is ANYONE on the server who dares to chirp, bird or no, they must understand that they are signing away their privacy and giving phil the right to go absolutely bonkers over them momma bird style

(shoutout to tommy, wilbur, ranboo, and fundy for having to suffer through this)

"oh??? you don't have wings?? you don't have feathers?? omg?? then what's this im preening?? what do you mean im just braiding your hair?? nono this is preening smile"

god help you if you dare to have wings

poor tommy, wilbur, sneeg, and tubbo

phil can't help himself alright

do you think he wants to be any sort of protective over sneegsnag?

no!! but he cant stop himself!! sneeg might damage his wings if he keeps flying those super long distances!!! nnnno! carry the bug man!!!

it's weird, he's always had that protective sense over ranboo, too

but ranboo very obviously doesn't have wings, so he doesn't get it...

ranboo

yes ur a peasant

yes ur poor

yes im cooler than u

what r u gonna do about it

the enderdragon's son! partially a dragon, partially enderman, partially human (don't ask, his other mom is a hybrid), all spoiled brat!

given that he has a ton of dragon genes, he's extremely possessive over his stuff and Yes He Does Do The Hoarding Thing

he has a pile of rings and gold chains and necklaces and most of his jewellery hidden underneath his bed

(if you ask him, no, he doesn't)

not to wear

just to Have

one time, fundy stole one (1) bracelet from the hoard and ranboo was sent into a panic for a good 24 hours

he wouldn't leave his cave and kept counting and recounting as if that'd make the missing piece reappear

(when fundy had to give it back because of the guilt, he expected to get his face bitten off)

(instead, he just watched as the prince was flooded with relief, telling him to get the hell out and nothing more)

it's weird, he has so much gold and even a crown, and yet here he is

living with all those people ^^^

truth be told, the enderdragon isn't a very nice dragon

nor is she a very kind queen

nor was the other queen

nor was her son

there was a mutiny in the end, leading to the dragon queen and her wife being killed brutally by the crowd of angered people

they went after their son next, who had ordered executions and worked servants to the bone just as much as they had

they cut off his wings in the middle of the square

he was sure he was going to die until a random person (a peasant) jumped up and yelled at them for publicly torturing a child

but ranboo didn't really catch all of it, given he was delirious from pain

he got to get some stuff quickly and escape with his life

this wasn't too long ago, either, so he's still trying to...adjust...to people talking rudely to him

(he's also trying to adjust to not having wings)

(hence why he hurls himself off the edges of cliffs and then has to teleport to the bottom instead of glide. he keeps forgetting.)

#this is so long #origins smp #originssmp #ranboo #tubbo #philza #philza minecrft #sneegsnag #wilbur soot #technoblade #tommyinnit #help this is so long

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journen · 2 years

Note

Hi there! For the drawing requests: Obi-Wan initiating a keldable kiss after a particularly bloody battle on Cody's part and Cody just staring at Obi-Wan wide-eyed and shocked because 'General do you even know what you're doing??'

I can't wait to see whatever you choose to draw next and let me tell you the fact that you've started drawing codywan as well makes me so happy! I really love your art —it's so gorgeous and your style really makes it easy to pretend everything you draw is official star wars art (especially the Kenobi pieces). If the show touches upon half the things you've already explored I know I won't be disappointed. I was so beyond thrilled when you posted the first codywan piece a while back and I love that it wasn't just a one time thing! I'm obsessed with the way you draw Cody's hair and one can really tell how much thought you put into every piece and into telling a story. Anyway thanks for sharing your ideas and I hope you're having a good day! :'))

When I first saw this I freaked out at the drawing prompt, and then thought the whole thing was a prompt from you, so when I read the second paragraph I went WHAT!!!!

Wtf. Thank you so much? Oh my god.

I can’t believe you sent this message haha, this is the nicest thing ever! I’m so honoured you like my art and my storytelling especially. Hearing you say this makes me so 🥺😭 I love storytelling and I always try to infuse it into my work, and make it good/interesting. It means a lot to me that at least 1 person out there reads my dumb story rambles under my posts lol, I always think I annoy and scare people off with how much I write, but I really can’t help it lol.

And ahhh I’m so happy you like my Kenobi séries pieces too! I made it a challenge to do a compilation of concept paintings for scenes I want to see in the Kenobi show. 🥺 I never expected to be able to do so many, let alone for anyone to even like them, it was just meant to be a personal challenge to improve at my art and storytelling. And omg your support of my CodyWan art is just 🥺🥺🥺 I’ve never been big into shipping and am ALWAYS so shy about it, but this ship got me lol. But the fact you’ve followed my artwork and we’re happy when I first posted the ship art? Oh my god i cannot handle !!!/!!/!/

Anyhow, I’m very grateful, and I really don’t know what I did to deserve all this support and such a kind message from you. All of the support from you and others of my art encourages me to keep working towards my goal of being a concept artist.

And let me just say to you, you are actually so kind and supportive. I see your kind and creative tags on everything you reblog from me, and other amazing artists and content creators. SW Tumblr would not be the same without your presence. So thank YOU!!

This is what I have right now for your drawing suggestion!

I will probably change the expressions a bit but my idea was that Obi-Wan is tired and delirious(kind of like me right now lol) like 😌, and Cody is like « umm what are you doing ?? Bad timing bro??!! » HAHAHA! I hope you like how it’s coming along, let me know if you have any suggestions for improvements! And I’ll tag you when it’s finished.

#im so sorry I’m #running on 3 hours of sleep and I had to be out most of today lol #sorry for writing so much that is #Idk i know I say thank yous a lot but it’s because I don’t want people to think I don’t appreciate their kind words #thank you again lightasthesun #journen speaks #text post #lightasthesun #CodyWan #WIP #obi wan kenobi #commander Cody #Star Wars #the clone wars

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1kook · 4 years

Text

commercial break ; SIX

this is part of my netflix & chill series this is foreshadowing for the next fic 👀

summary; Jungkook enjoyed pushing you down, indulging you in all your little fantasies, but he too had some he wanted to live out. warnings; smut in the forms of riding, penetration, soft sex rating; mature (18+) misceallenous; jungkook thinks a lot.... and they're not always pg things... word count; 1.8k

notes; i have been neglecting my og jk dream team couple so here we are! anyway please look [ here ] and remember this face ....

He’s never minded taking the reins before, but there’s something distinctly carnal that flashes in Jungkook’s chest when you ask to ride him that morning. The sun filtering in through the window beside him captures the entirety of your beauty on top of him, endless expanses of soft skin and dips and curves. “Pretty,” he sighs, hands on your hips. You’re so tired but so gorgeous, supple breasts bouncing in his face, eyelashes kissing your cheeks with each sleepy blink. Rarely do you push him down like this, hands on his chest as you whimper and grind yourself to completion, but Jungkook certainly wasn’t complaining.

In all the time he’s known you, Jungkook’s become quite familiar with your sexual prowess. You liked to play the opposite game with him, seduce him and push him until he snapped and took you over a table or cuffed you to a bed, all blessed experiences that he treasures very much. He loved how you sounded bent over the kitchen counter, or shoved against the sheets. If Jungkook had to pinpoint the exact moment his horniness skyrocketed, it was definitely the second his name left your lips in a breathy little whimper. He adored you and your body, liked taking care of you.

But every now and then… he liked to be pampered.

Jungkook enjoyed pushing you down, indulging you in all your little fantasies, but he too had some he wanted to live out. Blindfolding you and having you cum on a riding crop was definitely the highest on the list and that was done; after that incident he’s woken many a night with a rock hard cock in his sleep shorts like some dorky teenager fantasizing about his girlfriend. And on the nights you didn’t sleep over, he was forced to fend for himself, the tape recorder in his brain recalling every single thing that had happened that night.

But now it was time to move onto the next, and that next bullet point on his imaginary list was letting you fuck yourself on his cock with no help at all.

Most times you rode him you tended to give up halfway through. You started off strong, overexcited glint in your eyes as you rabidly fucked yourself on him. But your natural pillow princess tendencies (no shade) always won over, always had you softly begging him to help. He’s always been more than happy to, especially if it meant coming sooner, but sometimes Jungkook just wanted to be used. Wanted to be pushed down and taken advantage of, especially if that was at your hands. It was a concept that probably went against everything your sexual relationship was built upon; him being the submissive one was about as rare as you not play-fighting back. And still, Jungkook wanted more than anything in the world to see that side of you, that femdom, as Doyeon had so meanly teased him about once.

So here he is, partially living that fantasy as you slide up and down on his cock. You’ve got one hand on his lower abdomen, the other on the top of a thigh, working yourself against him lazily. It’s not at the intensity of Jungkook’s dreams, but it sure is a sight. “B-Bend your knee for me, honey,” you pant, and Jungkook does, pulling his leg up until you’re sloppily using it as leverage to bounce on him. “G-Good boy,” you rasp.

It’s that word, that wretched word that makes something in Jungkook go soft, throw the past year of training out the window. He likes to think he’s in charge— he is —but every now and then you use that word against Jungkook and it’s like everything is reversed and always has been. Like it’s always been you leading sex, you telling him how good he is, and not the other way around.

He groans, tightens his hands on your hips as you continue bouncing away. Every glide of your warm folds around his cock makes his heart lurch, makes him want to bury himself inside of you and never leave. Jungkook would never admit it to your or anyone, but there was this rather clingy side of him that reared its ugly head when you were involved. He never wants anyone else to see you like this, never wants anyone else to feel you like this, which is where his spiraling begins.

You see, below that being-pushed-down-by-my-girlfriend point was another, slightly overlooked point, that entrenched upon dangerous, almost taboo territory. And that was stuffing you full of his cum— off birth control —and watching you swell and swell until there was no way you couldn’t be pregnant. And Jungkook, for some odd reason, wanted that really badly.

A soft groan above him, a lazy smile on your face as you reach down to idly toy with your clit, pussy flush against the base of his cock now. He knows better than to tell you to move because it’ll break this tender moment, this unique experience of you using him like some glorified dildo like he so desperately wanted sometimes. So he shuts his lips, goes back to that other fantasy that is only fueled by the soft swell of your tits when you move.

God, they would get so big, he thinks. Would be so round, just like the rest of you, and bursting with milk. It’s for the baby, for the baby, he tells himself, but there’s image in his head, this so terribly wrong image, of him suckling your breasts, holding your waist as the milk drips down his chin and over your skin, senses overwhelmed as he does something he’s definitely not supposed to. But you’d be so sweet, his mind says, would be so sweet and... full of life.

Above him, you giggle deliriously, sweat dripping down the slope of your neck. For a second he wonders if you’ve somehow tapped into his thoughts, seen all his perverted fantasies, but then you’re looking at him with that adoring gaze that makes his heart burst. “Pretty boy,” you tease, rolling your hips forward until that cute little button above your slit is grinding against him.

Yes, he certainly was your pretty boy, your good boy— he was whatever boy you wanted him to be. Why? Because he was so in love with you that the mere thought of you not being his and him not being yours made him gag. He just wanted you, so soft and warm around him, for the rest of his life. Maybe a belly? Maybe a child? Jungkook wanted it all, and his dick throbs at the mere idea of you possibly giving him that and more.

He was completely lost in his thoughts, never to be seen again.

A muffled whimper, so airy that it takes Jungkook a moment to realize it came from him. He’s too riled up to feel embarrassed, simply rolls his head from side to side as you clench those puffy walls around him. “C-Cum inside?” he pants, “can I— can I cum inside?” You lean forward; the tip of his engorged cock brushes against a sensitive spot inside of you, pulling a sinful moan from your lips. “P- Please?”

You smile, so pretty and sweet, it makes his dick twitch. “Of course,” you murmur, small hand on the side of his face, hips rolling rhythmically. “Wh- what’s that thing you said the other day?” you shiver, sleek skin catching the rays of the sun perfectly. A glittering highlight decorates your body, and that only tightens the coil in his stomach until it’s springing up with insane force. “Baby?”

“Yes?” he grunts, every muscle fiber in his body needed to hold even the smallest semblance of self control.

A giggle from you as he dazedly looks up. “Not you,” you chuckle, leaning down to sweetly peck him on the lips. It’s so soft and gentle, just like everything else about you. It takes everything in his body to keep him stable. “Remember?” you purr, hot breathe flush against his skin. “You wanted to put a baby in me.”

His hips jerk, a moan spilling from his lips that he doesn’t catch fast enough. “N-No,” he mewls, turning his face away from you like maybe it’ll prolong his orgasm, maybe it’ll lessen the aching heat around his cock. He can’t possibly hear those words from your lips, not when he knows you’re on birth control and that that notion is physically impossible right now. It’ll plant a terrible seed in his head, ruin Jungkook for weeks.

But you’re nothing if not persistent, forcing yourself down against him as he begins violently blushing, trying to mask his excitement. “Baby?” you repeat, as if he’s a puppy hearing the words ‘outside;’ fuck it, Jungkook thinks, he was whatever you wanted him to be. “Wanna fuck a baby into me, Jungkookie?” you exhale, hot breath against his ear. His hips spasm a second time, send you rolling down his cock with those perky nipples flush against his chest. “Mmmh, come on, honey… need you to work for it.”

And work Jungkook does.

His hands wrap around your frame, pull you flush against his body. Feet against the bed, thighs tense, he begins rapidly thrusting up into the warm entrance of your pussy, where yours and his cum seep out together. It’s slippery and wet, but not wet enough — he wants to feel his cum around himself, feel it bulge inside your stomach until you physically can’t hold anymore. “G-Good boy,” you whine, lips raining down featherlight smooches along his jawline. “Doing so good for me, honey—“

You’re cut off by the earth-shattering orgasm that consumes Jungkook, an almost feral groan that tears itself from his throat. “Mine, mine,” he sobs, doesn’t recognize his own voice in his ears. “Gonna be mine.”

A stuttered reply as your juices join his, leak down his softening cock until the sticky sweet fluid makes him feel dirty. It’s not even 8 AM yet and he’s already covered in cum. But it’s worth it when you lean back with that pretty smile, push his damp hair away from his sweaty face with the practiced touch of an angel. “Did you like that?” you ask softly, not making to move off of him. In fact, Jungkook swears you squeeze around his quickly limpening cock.

Any other woman he thinks he might have been embarrassed, die from humiliation of presenting her with a soft dick. But with you, it’s comfortable. It’s sweet and soft, your silky folds milking the last of his cum straight out of his cock. Jungkook whimpers, head bobbing at your question. You cup his face in your hands, fingers like butterflies against his skin. He swears he could transcend right now.

Another languid kiss, tongue lazily toying with his until his mouth feels heavy from the saliva you push down his throat. The light filtering in through the window paints your skin in soft colors, makes him feel so warm and loved; he could die like this and not feel an inch of remorse.

#goldenclosetnet #networkbangtan #bangtanhq #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook fic #bts smut #mine

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shyficwriter · 3 years

Text

Sick

Guardians of the Galaxy fanfic | Reader x Guardians (With Yondu & Kraglin)

Summary: You are quite sick, and unfortunately for everyone else, you won't stay in bed. Might have something to do with being delirious with fever, or maybe you're just a terrible patient. Who's to say?

Authors note: Content warning for hallucinated gore (I think? maybe horror is a better description? Let me know), and mentions of blood, and of course mentions of all the nastiness that comes with a stomach sickness (Don't worry, I kept it clean, didn't want to gross myself out lol) The characters are safe, story has a happy ending.

Word Count: 7,120

Damn, you felt like shit.

It was the first morning in forever where you could remember not actually wanting to get out of bed. Everything was sore, and damn it was just so cold. Why was it cold? Peter usually kept the ship decently warm?

You sighed and rolled out of bed, pausing momentarily when the room began to spin and your stomach tightened in nausea. Damn. That mission the other day must have taken more out of you than you thought. You didn't think you'd still be this sore and tired two days later. This was worse than yesterday, and you weren't exactly expecting the nausea, but at least it had passed.

Oh well. Nothing you can really do about it. Besides, you had more pressing matters, like figuring out why it was so damn cold. You were shaking and had to fight your teeth from chattering. Better put on a sweater.

After washing up and getting ready you headed out of your room to ask Peter why it was so cold, maybe check on the boiler yourself if he hadn't. You found him with Gamora and Kraglin on the flight deck discussing the best course to Berhert, where you guys were planning to dock for a few days and maybe chase down a few leads for new jobs.

"Why is it so freaking cold in here?" you ask. "Did the boiler break down or something?"

They turned to look at you and it was then you realized they were in their regular clothes, not even wearing jackets to keep them warm. Peter was even wearing short sleeves. "I feel fine?" he said, looking to Gamora. "Are you cold?"

She shook her head, adding that if anything, she thought Peter kept it a little too warm on the ship.

You raised an eyebrow, wondering how they could possibly be warm when you were freezing. You shook your head gently. "Guess it's just me then," you grumble.

"You ok? Ya look a little pale there?" Kraglin asked after noticing you were at least a shade or two lighter than normal and how the skin around your eyes wasn't normally that dark.

"I'm fine, Kraglin," you say, trying not to sound like too much of an asshole despite being cranky that you were so cold and achy.

Peter looked at you suspiciously a moment before saying, "Hey, come here a sec."

"Why?" you ask, just as suspiciously.

"Just come here."

You roll your eyes as you approach. "Fine." Once you stopped a few feet from him you asked, "What?"

He raised his hand out toward your forehead, and in your surprise you leaned away quick, instantly regretting it as the room began to spin again.

You gathered yourself somewhat quickly and noticed his hand coming back. You smacked it away. "What are you doing??" you asked through squinty eyes.

"I'm trying to feel your temperature, dummy. Quit moving!" he responded, irritated when you dodged him once again.

"What am I? A child? I don't need you to feel my temperature, mom." you sassed, taking a few steps backward out of the way. "I'm fine." you say irritably.

"Well you like shit."

You almost laughed in surprise at his bluntness as you leaned back with a mildly offended expression. "Well fuck you too, dickweed. You aren't exactly a looker yourself." You didn't really think he was ugly, you were just being mean, but it made Kraglin laugh anyway.

Peter shot him a look before turning back to you and saying, "I didn't mean it like that. I just think you should probably go back to bed if you aren't feeling well."

"First off, I have shit to do, I'm not going back to bed. Secondly, I never said I wasn't feeling well, I just said I was cold," you say bitterly, hugging your arms close to your chest as another chill hit you.

"Then why are you sweating?" Peter asked.

You looked at him a moment, confused, before bringing your own hand up to your forehead. Sure enough, you were starting to sweat a little around your hairline. You wiped your hand on your sweater as you gave him a bitter look before turning and walking away.

"Go back to bed!" Peter called after you.

You flipped him the bird, not turning around as you continued out of the room. "You don't tell me what to do. You ain't my mother."

Peter narrowed his eyes as you walked away. "Yeah... well... Good!"

Gamora rolled her eyes at both yours and Peter's immaturity and returned the conversation to the navigation.

***

You made you way down to the kitchen, thinking maybe you'd make some toast. Your stomach felt a bit crampy now, and you thought toast might be light enough to soothe it before you got started on your chores. Maybe some milk. Milk was nice and gentle, right?

Rocket and Groot were already in the kitchen eating some cereal when you got there. You nodded toward them in greeting as you put down some bread in the toaster. You pulled down a glass and went to open the fridge to pour yourself some milk while you waited when Rocket spoke up.

"Oh hey, we're out of milk, if that's what you're after."

You sighed. "Juice will have to do then," you say, grabbing the bottle and pouring yourself a glass of the light green liquid. You leaned against the counter and sipped at it as Rocket made conversation.

"You said you're going to blow out the dryer line today, right?"

"Yeah."

"About how long are you gonna be? I need to wash a load and I was hoping to get it started before I got to work fixing Groot's game-thing so it might be done by the time I finished."

"Shouldn't be too long. Should only take abo-"

Just then the toaster popped, making you jump a mile, and Rocket and Groot laugh at your reaction.

"Oh man, I don't get why you Terrans are so scared of that! Haha!"

You only glare at him before removing your toast and turning your attention to buttering it rather than engage about how you were definitely not scared of a toaster like you would have any other time. You just didn't feel like it today.

"I am Groot?"

"Yeah, you ok? Normally you yell back when I tease you about the toaster. You sick or something?"

You were finished buttering your toast so you turned to give him an unimpressed look. "What? If I don't yell at you, you think I must be sick?"

Rocket shrugged, "I mean, yeah?" He collected his and Groot's now empty bowls and hopped over to put them in the sink. "You've always yelled something back, what else I'm I supposed to think?" He turned back towards you and looked you over. "And are you supposed to look that... dead?"

You narrowed your eyes. "You supposed to be that bald?"

"What? I'm literally covered in fur." Rocket said, looking at you like he thought you were stupid.

"You won't be if I shave you, you little shit."

"I am Groot."

"I'm not sure if cranky's the word I'd use right now, buddy." Rocket said, throwing you a sideways glance. "Come on, let's go see if Drax wants to play cards or something." With that the pair left the room, leaving you alone to nibble at your toast and sip at your juice in peace.

It didn't exactly help the cramping in your stomach though, you realized as you placed your glass in the sink. You took a deep breath as another chill hit you and you rested over the sink a bit to get your bearings, taking a few more deep breaths hoping it would ease the cramping in your stomach.

Once you felt steady enough you left the kitchen, intent to get started on today's tasks, first being the dryer line, then changing the various air filters about the ship. You'd probably also get around to checking all the smoke detectors before lunch, but for now you just needed to get down to the laundry room to get started.

God, it was so cold.

You made your way down the hall from the kitchen and turned off towards the laundry room when you were startled by Yondu. He had been coming up the other hallway in the direction you were now headed and decided to greet you with a clap on the back and a loud, "Hey, squirt! What'cha doing?"

He always called you squirt, pipsqueak, munchkin, just because he knew it annoyed you to be called childish nicknames. To be fair, he did still call Peter, a fully grown man, 'boy,' as well as also sometimes calling him 'squirt,' and Gamora 'girl,' so at least you knew it wasn't personal.

The startle, as well as the impact of his hand meeting your shoulder sent you forward. You grabbed hold of the wall and tried to steady yourself as the hall spun around you.

"Whoa, ya alright there?" Yondu asked, not expecting to have thrown you so off balance.

You look up at him weakly and nod, breathing deeply through your nose as you held a hand to your stomach, still bent over slightly from where you had caught yourself. You thought you were going to be sick, but you were doing your damnedest to keep it together. "Yeah." you swallowed, trying to fight the slight tremors beginning to shake you. "Yeah, I'm good."

"Ya don't look it. I think you need to take your ass back to bed."

You glare at him. "I'm fine. I just need a sec." As if your body were trying to betray you, another chill shot through your spine, making you shake as a strong cramp made you fold into yourself with a, "Ow, fuck!"

Shit. You knew what was coming and there was nothing you could do to stop it. You quickly turned away from Yondu and vomited on the floor with such force that it felt like something had ripped your stomach open and you fought not to whimper at the pain. You heard him make a disgusted noise, and you didn't blame him.

Teeth chattering and dizzy, you looked at the mess and said, "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry. I'll clean that up." Your vision swam as you shook, one hand gripping at the wall, the other still wrapped about your middle.

Before Yondu could think to respond you had dropped to your knees, thankfully missing the puddle of sick on the floor, and vomited again.

You couldn't stop shaking, and resigned into leaning into the wall, eyes closed as you turned your forehead to rest against the cold metal. Your breath came in shudders as you heard Yondu cry out, "Shit! Quill!" He sounded urgent, but you didn't have time to think about that, you were too busy shaking and trying not to vomit again.

You thought you heard Rocket's voice from up the hall say, "See! I knew you were sick!" and you briefly opened your eyes to look up and make out the little blurry figure approaching before closing them again, weakly throwing him the bird as you focused on keeping it together, both arms now clutching your stomach as you grimaced in pain. It would be over soon. You just needed to gather yourself so you could clean up the mess you made and then you could get on with your day. God your stomach hurt...

You heard Yondu call out for Peter a second time, more urgently than the first and adding, "Kraglin! Somebody! Get down here!" when you lost your battle against your stomach and vomited for a third time. This time Rocket's cries for Peter joined him. You wondered why they were freaking out and calling for Peter when you felt Yondu grab your shoulders to stop you from falling forwards, causing your eyes to pop open allowing you to see your puddle of sick was now red, though you couldn't remember eating anything red... Was the juice you drank red? No, it was green... "Well that's not ideal..." you slurred out, realizing that it probably definitely shouldn't be red, but couldn't quite get a grasp on exactly why you knew it shouldn't be.

The last thing you heard was the sounds of boots thundering down the hallway, getting closer as they mingled with the noises of Yondu and Rocket's shouting before everything went dark.

***

You woke up in your bed laying on top of your sheets. You still didn't feel great, your stomach still felt crampy and also now burned a bit, but it was better than the sharp pain of before and at least you didn't really feel nauseous anymore.

It was still really cold though. You sat up and your head swam. You looked down to see you were still in your sweater and contemplated putting another one on before deciding against it. You were going to be up moving around doing your chores in a second, you'd likely warm up then.

You gingerly pulled yourself out of bed, thinking you might go get some water first, when you looked over at your nightstand for the time and found that someone had already left you a glass. How kind. You sipped at the water and silently grumbled when you realized you had been asleep for nearly two hours.

Wait... why were you in bed again? You sort of remembered getting sick. Peter probably made you lay down a bit. He was a mother hen like that.

No matter, you were up now. Time to get to work.

You left your room and had made it about 20 feet before Gamora spotted you and ordered you back to bed. You made out her two stern faces staring at you... wait two? You thought she only had one of those?

"Why?" you ask, wondering if Peter's mother-hening had rubbed off on her. Way you saw it, you only threw up, it wasn't the end of the world.

"Because you're sick, that's why!" Gamora replied, sounding exasperated.

"I'm fine." you assured, making a face a her. "You worry too much, chicken. The sky's still there." Hmm... you might have gotten that phrase wrong, or did you? You couldn't quite remember. Oh well.

"Bed. Now." she ordered. You blinked and suddenly she once again only had one face. One very cross looking face. Oh well. You still knew better than to argue with her, regardless of how many faces she chose to wear today, so begrudgingly you turned around and went back to your room with a dramatic sigh.

When enough time passed that you were certain she'd be gone, you attempted your escape again. This time you got about halfway to the laundry when you spotted little Groot in the hallway. He looked at you contemplatively and said, "I am Groot?" which you took to mean he was probably asking if you were supposed to be up and out of bed. Leave it to Peter to tell the whole damn ship.

You gave the little guy your best smile and made a shushing gesture with your finger to your lips. "Our secret, right buddy?"

He smiled and ran off.

Taking that as an agreement to silence you went on your way only to not make it much further before hearing someone tell you to "Stop right there!" You turned to find Gamora and Peter looking very disapproving while Rocket stood there looking smug with little Groot sat on his shoulder. Knowing you were defeated, your shoulders fell as you said, "I know, I know. 'Back to bed.'" As you made your way past them you looked down at the little twig and muttered, "Traitor." only to be met with him sticking his little tongue out at you playfully.

Your third attempt was much the same, only this time it was Mantis who caught you and she wasn't quiet about it at all when she went running off yelling to Yondu that you were out of bed again, much to your chagrin as it prompted him to come out of a nearby room. He didn't even have to say anything. He just stared you down, and you held up your hands in defeat and said "Ok! Ok! I'm going!" before scurrying the best you could back to your room.

You didn't even get out of your room on your fourth attempt, having opened the door to find Drax had been walking by at just that moment. He stopped and narrowed his eyes at you with arms crossed, daring you to try it. You looked at him awkwardly a moment before sighing and just closing the door. Maybe you'd take a nap and wait them out. You were a little sleepy...

On your fifth attempt you got nearly to the doors of the laundry when you heard someone shout, "Where do you think you're going?! Get back to bed!"

You turned around irritably to see it was Peter and Kraglin now, looking fairly cross. Seriously!? Why can't they just let you be!

You crossed your arms. "I have to blow out the dryer line, asshat. Where are you going?" you sassed.

Kraglin leaned to Peter and muttered something you couldn't quite make out. Something about the flight hangar? Oh well, probably wasn't important.

Peter looked at you like you were a misbehaving child. "I'm going to take you back to bed, that where I'm going."

You rolled your eyes and waved him off this time, turning your back on him to continue on your quest.

"Hey!" he scolded, effortlessly catching up with you and grabbing your arm to stop you. "I'm not kidding, you need to go back to bed." He put a hand to your forehead, this time succeeding since he had you by the arm and you couldn't get away. "You're burning up. Come on, back to bed." he repeated.

"Screw off." you say weakly, the sudden motion of being grabbed making you dizzy.

"See this is what I mean. You need to rest." Peter's tone was slightly more gentle now, but it didn't make you any less cranky. "Do you really think you're gonna puke blood and then just be allowed to walk about like everything's fine? You're crazy. You need to stay in bed until a doctor can see you!"

Huh. So that hadn't been a dream... Maybe it was the fever talking, but you didn't really care too much. You didn't want or need to see a doctor. You tried to reason with him.

"If I don't blow the lint out of the line it could catch fire. You want that, Star-Brat?" Ok, so you were still a bit cranky, probably could have said that nicer. Oh well. You tried to pry his hand away but failed, sighing in frustration.

"Already did it." Kraglin lied, throwing a hinting look to Peter.

Taking the cue Peter nodded. "Uh- Yeah, he got it done while you were sleeping.'"

"See?" Kraglin said, "Now you got nothing to worry about and you can just get some rest."

You jerked your arm and this time succeeded in freeing yourself, but not without feeling faint. "Nice try." you say, stumbling back a little. "There's still other stuff I needed to get done."

Peter grabbed your arm again, afraid you might fall backward if he didn't, and this time wasted no time marching you in the direction of your room. "And it can all wait until tomorrow. Right now you rest. This is the last time we're gonna tell you."

You looked at him confused. Last time? Had there been others? Oh right... you thought remembered him and Gamora yelling at you once before... oh and Yondu... you had forgotten Yondu. Bunch of mother hens...

Too weak to free yourself again you settled for complaining that you were fine, and for Peter to just let you go about your business. It all went on deaf ears.

On the way back to your room the three of you passed by Yondu, who laughed and said, "Told ya the squirt would try and escape again, didn't I? Just as stubborn as the two of you boys."

Peter chuckled, looking to the blue man and saying, "Remember that time we had to literally tie Kraglin to the bed when he caught the Kree flu and wouldn't stay in the Med Bay?"

Kraglin rolled his eyes and Yondu laughed, looking at you. "Now there's an idea!"

You shot him a look. "If you tie me down I swear I'll gut all of you," you say crankily.

"Stay in bed then and we won't have a problem," Yondu grinned, adding, "Don't make us have to knock you out."

You glared at him again but finally allowed Peter to lead you back to your room with minimal grumbling.

Once in your room he threw back your covers and ordered you to get into bed or else he and Kraglin would tie you to it. Afraid they might actually follow through with the threat, you obeyed, grumbling about how they were treating you like a child.

"Quit acting like one and we won't have to," Kraglin quipped, pointing to the water glass on your table and stating how you needed to keep your fluids up and that it better be gone by the time one of them came back to check on you.

You just turned on your side away from them and grumbled out a sleepy, "Yeah, yeah. Leave me alone."

Satisfied that you'd finally stay put the two men left the room. Once Peter closed the door behind them Kraglin said, "I guess I better actually go clean that dryer line now, huh?"

Peter chuckled. "Yeah, maybe."

***

Peter met up with Gamora on the flight deck. "How soon until the Doc can get here?"

As soon as he, Gamora, and Kraglin had all ran down from the flight deck to see what Yondu and Rocket were yelling about and found you passed out in Yondu's arms in front of a puddle of your own all-too-bloody sick they immediately sent Kraglin back up to call one of Berhert's doctors to try and get one to meet them at the ship, knowing they were still about three days out from even thinking about landing.

"Still about a day out," Gamora answered.

"I'm getting nervous," Peter admitted since it was just he and Gamora alone now. He told her how you were you were practically burning to the touch when he was dragging you back to your room for the final time, and even though you put on a good act with the banter, you couldn't hide from him the fact that you couldn't stop shivering or the way you looked like death warmed over.

He also told her what Kraglin had said, how they thought the fever was getting to you. When they found you last you were making your way towards the flight hangar, but you thought you were headed towards the laundry. They were on opposite ends of the ship.

Gamora validated his concerns, taking his hand to comfort him before saying, "Don't worry, the doctor will get here in time."

Peter sighed and nodded.

If- No. When you got better, Peter was going to kick your ass for making him worry.

***

You woke up again a few hours later feeling thirsty and achy. You looked over to see you still had about a sip of water left and drank it. Placing the glass back on the nightstand you stared at the ceiling for a moment before realizing you also needed to pee. Ugh. Inconvenient. If you couldn't work or do anything else you'd at least rather be sleeping. Actually, now that you thought about it, right now you didn't even want to work anymore. You just wanted sleep.

You knew surely you wouldn't get yelled at for being out of bed for getting up to use the toilet, so you sat up with the intent to roll out of bed and walk across the hall to do your business. Maybe you'd get some more water on the way as well.

No sooner had you sat up did you see it in the corner. Your stomach flipped and you rubbed your eyes, but it was still there. With horror in your eyes and your urge to use the toilet completely forgotten, you stared at the horrifying sight, unable to make a sound.

In the corner of the room was a humanoid figure, looking like it had been skinned alive. It was eyeless, only dark oozing holes remained where its eyes should have been, same with its nose. It was twitching grotesquely, blood and yellow ooze sloughing off its body as it did so, puddling about the floor at its feet. It tilted its head at you with a wicked toothy grin of sharp yellow teeth.

You pressed yourself against the headboard, shaking like mad, only a tiny squeak able to leave your throat. Sweat tickled down your forehead but you didn't dare move to wipe it away.

You sat like this for what felt like an eternity but was likely only a few moments before you heard the door to your room open and heard Yondu's voice.

"Me and Rat just came to make sure ya didn't run away again." He chuckled, before noticing the state of you and his tone changed. "What's the matter?"

You didn't look at him, didn't say anything, not wanting to take your eyes off the monster or do anything that might spur it into motion, and pointed a trembling hand at it.

Yondu looked where you were pointing. There was nothing there.

He looked down at a confused Rocket and just muttered, "Shit," realizing that you were likely hallucinating from the fever. He spoke to you softly, easing himself into the room so as to not make any sudden movements, "Listen here now, there's nothing there. It's alright."

You swallowed hearing his words. There was nothing there. There was nothing there. It couldn't hurt you. It couldn't-

It took a step towards you.

"Please," you managed to get out, jerking back into the headboard, trembling. You silently begged that you would fall asleep, or wake up, anything to make the nightmare before you go away.

Yondu's eyes widened and he held up his hands as he took another gentle step toward you despite how you still hadn't looked his way. "It's alright, you're ok, whatever it is- it's not real."

"Please," you say again, pleadingly, "Please knock me out."

Yondu looked at you in confusion. "What?"

"Please... Please. Knock me out. Sedate me- I don't care." You begged. You believed his voice when it said the creature wasn't real, or at very least you wanted to believe it very badly. However, believing it wasn't real didn't change the fact that you could still see it. Tears started to leak from your eyes. "Please make it stop."

Seeing you beg like that tore at something in Yondu's heart. You guys all did scary shit all the time. Came with the job of being part of the "Guardians of the Galaxy." Everyone had seen each other scared at some point, but this was different.

He spoke softly. "Ok, ok." He looked at Rocket for assistance. When he had threatened to knock you out earlier it had only been a joke. Other than sucker-punching you, which he had no intention of doing, he didn't actually have anything he could give you that would knock you out.

Rocket spoke up, uncharacteristically softly, trying to be helpful. "Look, it's ok, we're here, you're safe." He made to jump up on the bed before Yondu could stop him.

A reddish oozing blob similar to the creature in the corner but with reddish eyes jumped up by your feet and you screamed.

Yondu's scolding cry to Rocket of "Dammit, boy! No!" was drowned out by your cry as you kicked and sent the horrible thing flying to the end of your bed. It just managed to keep from falling to the floor by sinking its claws into the blanket, and it stood back up with a shake. You shrieked as you threw your empty water glass right at the creatures head only for it to catch it and toss it aside on the bed.

Then you felt strong hands grab your wrists. You heard Yondu's voice calling your name, saying it was alright, that everything was ok, but it wasn't Yondu. It was the creature from the corner.

"I don't think that's helping!" Rocket said, hopping off the bed to narrowly avoid being kicked again.

"Well jumpin' up on the bed wasn't yer brightest idea either, boy!" Yondu scolded back. You were sliding down the headboard, trying to get away from him, so he switched tactics. He traded gripping your wrists in favor of wrapping his arms around you, effectively pining your arms with your wrists against your chest in a hug so he could rock you gently saying, "Shh, it's alright, you're safe. It's alright. Shh."

Tears ran down your face as the creature wrapped itself around you. You turned your face away, kicking and struggling to break free as you cried softly, "No no no! Please no!"

Yondu continued to rock you, hoping you'd snap out of it. After a couple more shushes and assurances that you were safe, that weren't quite working, he threw a sideways glance at Rocket. "This doesn't leave this room, got it?"

Rocket cheekily replied, "Me? Tell everyone you're a giant softie? Never!"

Yondu glared at him and was about to say something snarky in return when he heard Mantis from the doorway.

She peeked in nervously. "Is everything ok? I was walking by and I heard screaming."

Rocket got an idea. Drax had told him how Mantis had put Ego, an entire living planet, to sleep. Surely a mere Terran should be no problem. "Mantis come here, we need your help."

Mantis quickly but shyly entered your room. Seeing the state of you in Yondu's arms she worriedly asked the pair if you were ok.

"Not exactly." Rocket answered honestly, telling Mantis how the fever put you in a bad way, and they now needed her help to put you to sleep so you'd feel better.

"Think you can do that for us, Bug?" Yondu asked, still holding you tightly as you cried and struggled to get away, his eyes nearly pleading.

Mantis nodded.

You felt the creature's arms wrap tighter and you kicked fruitlessly. You had kept your eyes shut tightly, but upon feeling that you almost had an arm free you allowed them to open.

You regretted it.

There was now also a shorter monster, just like the one from the corner that had you now in its clutches. Dark horns protruded from its forehead and it opened its glistening maw as it reached a bloodied, oozing hand toward your face.

You threw back your head in a weak, terrified, cry of anguish, struggling against the hold of the other monster as you kicked and sobbed a desperate, "Please no! Don't!" before once again darkness enveloped you.

Your struggling ceased and Yondu laid you down to rest on your pillow, brushing some sweaty hair back from your eyes before standing up.

"Jeez," Rocket said, shaking his head and wondering aloud what you had seen that made you do "that."

Yondu looked down to see that Rocket wasn't just referencing your terrified crying and thrashing. He made a face of pity before sighing and looking up at Mantis. "Sweetheart, I need ya to go fetch Gamora for me, alright? If ya can't find her get Drax. I'm gonna go find some more sheets."

***

When Mantis came and told Gamora what had happened she immediately had Peter call the doctor they sent for to ask him what to do. You were clearly worsening and Peter was worried the doctor wouldn't get there in time.

Once on the line and after finding your temperature was over 40°C, and learning about the hallucinations, the doctor instructed that you needed to be cooled down immediately, and suggested they place you in a cold bath or shower. After that, they needed to keep your fluids up and monitor your fever.

Until the doctor would get there in about 18 hours, there was unfortunately not much else he could tell them to do.

So they waited.

***

The next time you fully came-to was nearly two days later.

You woke up in your bed feeling tired but better than before. Your stomach was still slightly achy, but the terrible cramping was gone. You also didn't feel as cold and stiff as you previously had.

You sat up, this time without the room performing cartwheels as you did so, and you took that as a good sign.

The room was dimly lit, but you still noticed you were wearing different clothes. You also felt... cleaner than you'd expect, for lack of better word. You realized the implications were that one of the others had likely bathed and re-dressed you and you resolved not to think too much about it as you felt a blush start to creep up your neck.

A loud snore startled you and you looked over to see Drax asleep in a chair between the wall and your bed, an open magazine spread across his stomach where he must have fallen asleep reading it.

You quietly swung your feet over the bed, intent on stretching your legs a bit, but you were startled again when your feet touched down on the floor and a loud tinkling of bells set off, startling Drax awake in turn.

After a grunt and a rub of his eyes he looked at you disapprovingly, asking what you were doing.

"I was just going to walk around a bit," you answer, doing your best not to be snarky. "Why the hell are there bells trip-wired to my bed?"

"You're supposed to stay in bed. You kept trying to get up and falling. It was Rocket's idea so we'd hear you trying to escape."

It was your turn to make a disapproving face, but you supposed you couldn't exactly be mad at them for caring, even if it seemed unnecessary. "Well, why are you here?"

"We've been taking shifts to watch over you, Peter said we were waiting for your fever to break, but I told him waiting for your temperature to return to normal would be sufficient."

"Oh," is all you could say, brushing off his absurd literalness. "Um, thank you." you add quietly. You hadn't realized.

"Yes. Now will you go back to bed, or do you need help going to the toilet again?"

You blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Well, each time you were almost awake enough to think you could walk the past couple days it was because you needed to use the toilet or you were going to vomit. I just assumed you were doing it again. You're very stubborn."

"No, Drax." you say, blushing fully now. You weren't sure if you were embarrassed more by his bluntness or the new knowledge that the others had to help you pee and clean up your sick. You didn't even want to think about if they had to wipe your ass. You'd literally die. "Even if I did, I can do it by myself. I feel much better now." It wasn't until then that it hit you what he had said. "Wait- Did you say two days?"

"I did."

"I've been out... for two days?"

"Yes."

"So... this whole time? ...You guys have been looking out for me?"

"Yes." Drax answered, seeming confused why you'd even ask. "Us and the doctor that came by yesterday." He raised an eyebrow. "Why are you crying?"

You wiped at your eyes quickly, having wished he hadn't noticed the tears that sprang to your eyes and filled your waterline. "I'm not," you sniff, looking down a the bed. "Just... Thanks. You didn't need to do that, so thanks. You can go to bed now. I feel better now. Sorry."

Drax stood. "Why are you apologizing? That's what family is supposed to do." He picked up a thermometer that had been placed on your nightstand and aimed it at your forehead. "And we did need to. You are small and weak like Peter. You would have died if we hadn't." The thermometer beeped and Drax read it. "You're right, your temperature is almost back to normal. But I suggest you still go back to sleep."

You wanted to tell him he was being dramatic about the dying part, but then you remembered that you actually didn't really remember much past seeing your bloody vomit, and you had absolutely no memory of any doctor, so you didn't push it.

"If your fever is gone you no longer need to be watched. I'll let the others know. Goodnight." Drax said, walking around the bed towards the door.

"Uh, Drax?"

He turned to you. "Yes?"

You wrapped your arms around his middle. "Thanks again."

He returned the hug, patting you on the back as he said, "You don't need to thank me. I know you'd do the same in return. Now sleep."

You pulled back from the hug and nodded, a gesture that you'd be good and go to sleep.

Drax seemed to want the confirmation of you getting back under the covers though, so with a light laugh huffed through your nose you crawled back between the sheets and obeyed. Seemingly satisfied, Drax finally left.

***

You woke the next morning feeling almost completely like yourself again.

You washed up and dressed, but not before removing the trip-wire bells from your bed, and then you made your way out of your room to get a glass of water and see if you could find the others.

Turned out, both the water and your teammates were all in the same place.

You walked into the kitchen to find everyone already inside. Before you could say anything Kraglin spoke up.

"Look! The world's worst patient lives!" he said with a grin.

"Nah, Krags, that's still you." Yondu corrected, giving you a wink as Peter agreed with him, but amended that it was a close race.

You walked over to a cabinet to get yourself a glass. "Drax told me what you guys did, and- well, thanks," you say walking over to the sink. "I mean, spare me the details, I don't want to hear anymore about it than what Drax already told me happened, but still, thanks. You didn't need to." You filled your glass and turned back to face them, sipping your water.

Yondu noted your blush and nudged you in the arm on his way to the coffee. "Don't mention it, kid."

This sentiment was met with nods and verbalizations of agreement from the others. You were family. That's what family did.

"Kay, but next time, which I hope there won't be, just stay in bed." Peter laughed.

"Yeah, yeah." you say, grumbling playfully.

"You hear that? Someone write that down." said Rocket, "We're going to hold you to that."

"Don't push it." you say, eyeing the raccoon.

"What? Your stubborn ass only tried to escape like a hundred times," Kraglin joked.

"And that's my cue to get to work," you say, setting your glass on the counter with the intent to run away from this conversation. However, you were stopped by Yondu grabbing your sleeve with an "Ah, Ah" and Gamora shoving a bowl of Yarrow Root across the table with the command to "Eat something first. You don't want to set yourself back and get sick again."

You sighed but didn't argue, knowing it was better to comply and realizing you were a little hungry anyway. You took a root from the bowl and bit into it to satisfy your friends.

That's when Peter speaks up and tells you that the doctor said you needed to take it easy for at least a day or two.

You narrowed your eyes. "When?"

"When she was here."

"When was that?" You take another bite of the root.

"Couple days ago."

You swallow. "Well then I'm considering that as time served." you say, deciding you'd take your breakfast to go.

Drax blocked your path.

"Um, can I get through?"

"No. Quill said this might happen. I'm stopping you from escaping. Finish your breakfast."

You shoot a glare at Peter before giving a hopeful look to Rocket. "You can talk some sense into them, right?"

Rocket shrugged. "Not my problem." before collecting Groot and leaving the kitchen with Mantis, who mouthed the word "Sorry" to you as they left.

You sighed, knowing there sure as hell wasn't any reasoning with the other five. "Really? This is what we're gonna do?"

"Yep." Peter grinned. Yondu and Kraglin simply shrugged behind their coffee.

Once you relented and sat down Gamora stood and stated that it wouldn't kill you to rest after being sick before leaving with Drax, who had apparently decided his job as security guard was now over. He said he was glad you were feeling better before following Gamora to the door and saying to her, without consideration that you could still hear, something to the tune that he imagined you felt better... now that you weren't puking and soiling yourself.

You choked on your water.

The other three pretended to be utterly fixated with the table and walls of the kitchen and you covered your face with your hands and moaned, "Next time please let me die."

"Will ya settle for us forgettin' it happened and never speakin' of it again?" Kraglin asked, fighting back a chuckle.

"Yes please." you squeaked from behind your hands.

Seeing an opportunity and taking it Peter added, "You still have to take the next couple days easy though."

"Anything!" you promise, lowering your head to the table.

"I think we got ourselves a deal." Yondu laughed, getting up to put his now empty coffee cup in the sink. "C'mon squirt, I'm sure we can find somethin' to take your mind off it."

And you did. You spent the next couple days just hanging around the ship with the guys and watching old movies Peter had collected over the years, telling funny stories, playing cards, and actually keeping your promise to let your body rest. Before long the whole ordeal was all but forgotten, but you were still always grateful for your family.

You knew no matter what, they had your back.

205 notes · View notes

iheartbookbran · 3 years

Text

Ok so actually my biggest problem with the whole “Daenerys will burn KL” theory—not even the Mad Queen Dany theory, which is of course very sexist for obvious reasons, but just like, the idea that Dany will ~accidentally~ ignite the wildfire in the city, burning it all to the ground. That, at first, doesn’t sound that bad, but the longer I think about it the more I hate it because tbh it doesn’t do anything for her character? And also… that fate for her is just down right cruel.

Like, the most frequent argument I see on why this would be at all satisfactory for Dany’s arc is basically that it would be a sort of lesson for her about the dangers of unchecked power and the real threat the Dragons can pose on humans and that she shouldn’t use them to fight against other people. And that’s all well and good, excellent message… except that’s not something Dany’s ever really needed to learn? Not anymore that her fellow rulers, which I will touch on more detail later, but in general Dany has seen what the abuse of power can do. Starting with her conflicting feelings regarding Viserys and how she recognizes that even though he was her brother and she loved him, he also abused his power over her as her older brother, her only family and her king; she feels guilt about the atrocities Drogo committed to the lhazarene and tries to help them; she feels so much guilt about not handling things correctly in Astapor that she decides to throw away all her plans to go to Westeros and instead stays in Meereen.

And about not knowing the true danger that her dragons can pose? I mean, this is the same girl that literally agonizes across several of her ADWD chapters because Drogon killed a child, and then takes the extreme measure of caging Rhaegal and Viserion to prevent that from ever happening again. I think she’s at least a little bit aware that the dragons can be dangerous, thank you very much.

Ok so this got long...

Anyways, the only time Dany legit uses Drogon to harm someone and not just as bluff was at the house of the Undying, where she was being attacked, and in Astapor… and like, lmao, that asshole Kraznys mo Nakloz and the rest of his slaver buddies deserved it. Don’t at me. Also, Dany’s hardly the only one with a big magical and deadly beast at her disposal, why didn’t Robb had to go through some horrifying traumatic incident to learn he shouldn’t use Grey Wind in battle to tear his enemies’ throats. Bran will be learning about the dangers of abusing power, but that’s linked to his magic powers and an actual reprehensible thing he’s doing, not the use of his glorified prehistoric dog to kill, which he’s done, just like Robb. By all means let the narrative hold Dany accountable for her mistakes… but her actual mistakes and not shit she has no control over, because she doesn’t have much control over Drogon or the other dragons even though she’s trying to, and that’s very obvious in her last ADWD chapter where she’s delirious and Drogon could kill her at any moment, and she knows that.

The other big argument people make for Dany burning KL (even if it’s by accident!) is that it will teach her about the price of war, that someone as young as her shouldn’t be leading armies and conquering kingdoms, and that fighting for the Iron Throne is not a worthy cause, and I feel like that misses the actual point of her story by a mile. First of all because a) Dany is hardly the only teenage ruler in the story and b) this is a fantasy medieval story, a lot of the characters shouldn’t be doing the things they do, aaaand yet. Also speaking of other teenage rulers with far more power that they should have—Robb and Jon, being the biggest examples.

Granted, Robb and Jon aren’t exactly successful during their time as rulers, they’re literally betrayed and killed by their own men (even if Jon will technically come back for round 2 of bullshit he’s too tired for). But the moral of their stories is not that they lost because theirs was an unworthy cause and they were stupid kids wholly unprepared for their roles. And I actually partially agree! They are just kids, including Dany, and they shouldn’t be responsible for looking after so many others and going to battle, but their cause is still just and worthy, even with all the mistakes they make along the way. Robb didn’t loose because he was wrong in demanding justice for his family or trying to protect the riverlands from the Lannisters and their minions, he lost because Tywin Lannister was a giant coward who couldn’t take him out in a fair fight.

Likewise, it isn’t wrong of Jon to try to incorporate refugees from beyond the Wall into Westeros. He’s not too stupid and honorable to do politics like his father (how I hate when people insult Jon and Ned like that), and while he did some very obvious mistakes that inevitably ended in a coup and in him dying, this is more connected to his inability to let go of his ties with his family (mainly Arya or who he believes to be her), and in isolating himself from his friends and the people he could actually trust.

I’ve always thought that Dany and Jon share a parallel narrative within the story, so while Jon is struggling with that Dany is faced with similar problems. She cages her dragons, that to her represent the only family she has left, and she tries to compromise with the slavers, marry a man she doesn’t love, pretend she’s ok with reopening the fighting pit. While she tries her best to rule wisely in Meereen, it all comes at the cost of betraying herself and her beliefs, so it’s no surprise when it all crashes around her and she’s betrayed and nearly killed. Ironically, it is Drogon who comes to rescue her.

If they are monsters, so am I.—Daenerys II, ADWD.

This is hands down one of my favorite Dany quotes from the whole series, and I hate that it’s been given such a negative connotation in the fandom, when for me it represents Dany’s humanity and compassion at the fullest.

GRRM has a knack for humanizing the ‘monsters’ of his story, for showing the good in the outcasts and the ugly and the scary. He embraces their ‘otherness’ and makes them the heroes of his stories; Arya, Bran, Brienne, Dany, Tyrion, Jon, Theon and many others are all compared to monsters or beasts at one point or another in the books.

Dany sees herself in her dragons, literal monsters in every sense of the word. Later on she faces Drogon inside the pit, and in that moment you could say that she accepts that ‘monstrous’ part of her, and in doing so she’s saved from her fate of dying at the hands of the men who would crucify innocent children and gleefully profit off of the suffering of their fellow human beings while watching them fight each other to the death for their own amusement. Now tell me who’s the real monster in this situation.

But shortly before that happens, Dany is able to see the humanity in Tyrion, an outcast who has been branded as monstrous and unlovable due to his disability all his life, a man who has come to believe in his abusers’ rhetoric about him so strongly that he’s started to act cruel and detached. She saves his life. She sees value in his life when few others would, because she cares.

I’ve always find it funny that the “dragons plant no trees” is—another—example fans use to argue in favor of Dany’s descent into Darkness™ because the actual scene goes like this:

You are a queen, her bear said. In Westeros.

"It is such a long way," she complained. "I was tired, Jorah. I was weary of war. I wanted to rest, to laugh, to plant trees and see them grow. I am only a young girl."

No. You are the blood of the dragon. The whispering was growing fainter, as if Ser Jorah were falling farther behind. Dragons plant no trees. Remember that. Remember who you are, what you were made to be. Remember your words.—Daenerys X, ADWD.

Now am I the only one who finds it at least a bit relevant that it’s freaking Jorah Mormont aka Jorah the Enslaver whom Dany’s subconscious, at her literal lowest moment, utilizes to represent this particular thought, which btw I’ve always interpreted as Dany’s own self-loathing manifesting in her, and this is something she’s actually always struggled with—the idea that she’s not enough and she’s failing. Because above all things, even Westeros or the Iron Throne, what Dany wants is peace, she wants to plant trees.

When Dany made her descent, Reznak and Skahaz dropped to their knees. "Your Worship shines so brightly, you will blind every man who dares to look upon you," said Reznak. […] This match will save our city, you will see."

"So we pray. I want to plant my olive trees and see them fruit." Does it matter that Hizdahr's kisses do not please me? Peace will please me. Am I a queen or just a woman?—Daenerys VII, ADWD.

But of course the world doesn’t work like that, and so long as there’s Jorahs and Tywins and Eurons out there, men who would take the freedom of humans and submit them to their will, Dany can’t have the luxury of peace, just like Jon can’t have the luxury of belonging and family so long as there’s people still beyond the Wall who need his protection.

And I think that’s fine. It’s fine that Dany failed, it will help her develop as a character and realize that there’s no room to compromise with slavers, the metaphorical monsters of the story who do far more harm than the other more literal ‘monsters’ of the story. So that when she has to face down Euron Greyjoy—who btw, there’s a high chance he will end up stealing one of Dany’s dragons via Victarion using Dragonbinder… y’know, as in enslaving one of her children and using said dragon to inflict god knows what horrors, yet not many people ever consider this for some reason?—she will know. When she has to face down the Others, the magical ice fairies with no regard for human life, she will know.

That’s why I believe that it would make absolutely no sense for Dany to have to go through such a tragic and traumatic experience like burning a whole city even by pure accident, over something that’s either never been a problem with her character or she’s well into her way of learning anyways, so it would just feel repetitive. As I have pointed out, she’s already reached one of the lowest moments of her arc. Not saying there will be no other blows for her, and probably the destruction of KL will be one of them, and knowing Dany she will feel responsibility over it no matter what, but that doesn’t mean she has to be the culprit, intentional or otherwise.

#yes i wrote this whole thing because i actually love the ‘if they are monsters so am i’ quote and i’m trying to push my agenda on others #jk i spend like half a minute in an anti dany blog and i was like. war #but i don’t regret it so #daenerys targaryen #stormborn #pro daenerys #asoiaf #asoiaf meta #a song of ice and fire #valyrianscrolls #meta #my meta

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singingcroissants · 3 years

Text

Patch Me Up

Hello, I’m back friends!! Things have been so busy lately, but I couldn’t stay away for too long! Of course I wrote this at 11 pm instead of translating Homer like I was supposed to be lmao. This is probably terrible but I figured I’d post it bc why not ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Enjoy!

Warnings: language, blood/injury, cheesy a$$ fluff

Note: This fic is aged up, as always!

Eyes heavy and muscles aching, you turn your key in the door.

The routine after a big fight was always the same: kick your shoes off, fumble through your dark apartment, and try not to think about whatever shitshow you just survived. But tonight, your side stung a little too much, and the blood seeping through your white t-shirt sent a shiver down your spine. Once you locked your door, you shuffled over to the bathroom sink to take inventory of your wounds. Lifting your shirt with a wince, your suspicions were confirmed. It was a shallow cut, you wouldn’t need stitches...but it was a pretty long gash, and it was definitely aggravated from rubbing against your shirt. In addition to the knife wound, you had a large bruise on your cheek, and your arms were peppered with little bruises from where the attacker grabbed you. Suddenly you froze, bile rising in your throat at the reminder of his pockmarked face and sadistic grin. Refusing to linger on the memory for too long, you splashed some water on your face, but grimaced when the action sent a searing pain into the laceration across your rib. Your vision turned white for a moment as you swayed, briefly losing your balance. Leaning your back against the bathroom wall for stability, you slid down to sit on the cold linoleum floor, head back, as you rubbed your knees in an effort to busy your shaking hands. Suddenly aware of hushed breathing coming from the doorway, you looked up, startled. To your surprise, Five Hargreeves stood in the doorway, watching you coolly. You two had a complicated relationship, constantly competing to be savior of the city. Over the 5 years you had known each other, you had never seen him smile; he was all business, all the time. What he was doing in your house on a Tuesday night, however, you couldn’t say. You were pulled from your thoughts as you felt his eyes on you.

“What happened?” He asks after a pause.

“On my way home from work I saw the Baxter Street gang following a young woman down 5th avenue, and I tried to take them on my own.” You hesitated, your pride wounded. “...It didn’t go so well.”

Five rolled his eyes, and muttered, “Yeah, I can see that.”

His jaw clenched and unclenched as his gaze slid over you. You watched him back intensely, surprised to catch a momentary glimpse of alarm in his eyes as he took in your bloody shirt and bruised cheek.

“Stand up,” he commanded.

Confused but too tired to argue, you began to rise to your feet, but not without muttering an indignant “What are you even doing here?”

To your embarrassment, the moment you stepped away from the wall you faltered, and he blinked across the room to catch you before you hit the ground. With his left hand resting on your back, and his right gripping your hip beneath your shirt, he guided you to an upright position wordlessly.

Through your haze of pain, you noted deliriously that he was making a suspiciously low number of snide remarks about your current position.

He lifted you up effortlessly and sat you on the countertop.

“Can I take this off?” he motioned to your shirt. Trying very hard to ignore the blush spreading to his ears, you whispered a faint, “Yes.”

The electricity skyrocketed when your eyes met, the tension of the moment visible in the slope of your shoulders, and Five’s bobbing adam's apple.

In a swift motion, he lifted the shirt up and stoically began cleaning your wound. You searched for any sign of concern in his face, but he showed none. Silently he worked, your heavy breathing and the buzzing electric lights the only sounds in the bathroom. Once he had disinfected the gash and carefully wrapped bandages around your waist, he quickly straightened and removed his sweater. Clearing his throat, he looked away and said casually, “Put this on.”

However grateful you were for his first aid skills, you began to grow shy at Five’s unceremonious kindness towards you. Fidgeting with the hem of your bloodstained shirt, you stubbornly said, “Oh thanks, but I’m actually perfectly comfortable in this. It’s actually designer-”

“Put it on,” he interrupted, his tone rising. A voice crack betrayed his attempt at austerity as he reigned himself in once more: “I’m not going to ask again.”

He left you staring, sweater in hand, as he turned to face away from you.

“Fine, fine... Thank you,” you conceded. You slipped off your soiled shirt with a wince, and put on Five’s sweater. It was soft -really soft- and smelled like leather and pine. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

Echoing off the wall came a muffled and surprisingly gentle “You’re welcome.”

“You can turn around now, Robin Hood,” you called, in a half-hearted attempt at sarcasm. You had hoped that in using your usual nickname for him it would ease the tension in the room, but it did the opposite if anything. But maybe, you thought to yourself, the tension wasn’t necessarily unpleasant.

The two of you made your way to the couch in your living room, and within minutes Five had helped himself to your kitchen and returned with steaming mugs of tea.

Now you sat, side by side, staring into the swirling vapor rising from your cups.

Five broke the awkward silence: “You shouldn’t have tried to take on that gang by yourself, especially when you’re not prepared. That stab wound was worse than it looked, y/n. You could have been seriously hurt.” He hesitated,” Or worse.”

“Since when do you tell me what to do, Five?” you responded, heat rising to your cheeks. “You’re not my partner, you’re my competition. And what do you care, anyway? If I died, you’d have everything you ever wanted! They’d hand you the fucking key to the city!” Your emotions overtook you, exhaustion having decimated any boundaries you might have clung to otherwise. “So why the hell are you on my couch, and why am I wearing your sweater, and why does it smell so good?”

Shit.

To your surprise, Five Hargreeves laughed. He sat in front of you, mug of peppermint tea in hand, laughing. Miracles do happen, you joked to yourself, awestruck.

His laughter slowed, and your face burned bright red in the soft glow of your table lamp.

“Do you really not know why I’m here?” he asked in a low voice, suddenly more serious.

You shivered.

Closing the distance of the couch, he reached out and caressed the bruise on your cheek after a brief moment of hesitation. The uncharacteristic warmth in his eyes made yours shimmer with tears, and you weren’t quite sure why. It had been a long time since anyone looked at you like that.

“I’m here because not only would I care if you fell into harm’s way, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. It’s impossible not to notice you when we’re both out there, trying to keep everyone safe. You’re brave, and strong, and kind. To be honest, you’re the reason I keep fighting for this city, your selfless desire to protect and care for others...I just never knew how to tell you. It didn’t seem right. But when I heard you had gotten hurt, I imagined the worst, and I just... well, I just had to tell you.”

Your heart swelled, and suddenly he was kissing your lips, his eyelashes fluttering against your cheek. One hand rested on your thigh, and his other was combing through your hair. The moment was tender and new and so very fragile, the opposite of everything you had known about Five Hargreeves. He shifted his position and leaned down to place a gentle kiss on the bruise on your cheek. You leaned into him, finally allowing yourself to give in to your fatigue from the evening’s events. Five quietly took you into his arms and began rubbing your back, calming you even further.

Normally physical touch made you shrink up, but somehow the man beside you was learning how to break down your barriers at lightning speed. Perhaps you had been closer to each other than you realized for quite some time.

In all the excitement, you felt your eyelids begin to flutter closed as you fought to stay awake.

“Darling,” Five whispered, “You can fall asleep, it’s okay. Let’s just rest.”

That was all that you needed to hear. You drifted off in his arms, his chest rising and falling slowly beneath you. The stinging in your side drifted to a dull ache, and your tight muscles began to slowly unwind themselves as you slept. And it felt good.

Now that you know what it’s like to be taken care of by someone, you don’t think you can ever go back to your old “post-fight” routine.

Five knows you won’t have to.

#five hargreeves #number five #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves imagine #five Hargreeves fanfic #five hargreeves fluff #tua fanfiction #umbrella academy #soft five #five x reader fluff #can you tell i like sleepy fluff scenes

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asahipleaseloveme · 3 years

Text

Sucker-Punched

Tsukishima x reader

Warning: reader being cheated on, abusive boyfriend, swearing, slight violence

Word count: 1.3k

Author's note: This idea popped into my head and I didn't think it fit Asahi very well, so I went with the next best thing Tsukki. I tried to keep Tsukishima in character as much as I could. This is my first time writing him, so I'm not sure how good this is (I spent an hour and half working on this instead of sleeping haha). Feedback is always appreciated! Please let me know if there are any warnings I missed!

Rain began pattering against the windshield. It was soft, but the silence in the car made it seem as though it was a downpour. Your best friend, Tsukishima, always had something to say after rescuing you from yet another missed something or other by your boyfriend. But this time was different - you would have to break the silence.

"Tsukki, I-"

"Just stop, ______. I honestly don't want to hear it."

Those words were so cold coming from his mouth and it stung.

"But, Tsukki-"

"No, I don't care to hear whatever piss poor excuse you're going to come up for him. You're obviously not that important to him if he is consistently standing you up to be with other women. I don't know why you continue to do this to yourself. Are you that naive or just stupid? Are you that desperate for attention that you would just let someone walk all over you? Quit being a pushover and grow up."

Oof, that was harsh. You could feel your heart breaking on that one.

"Tsukishima, let me out."

"What, are you crazy? It's raining, I'm not letting you out. We're almost back to my place anyway."

"I said let me out. If I’m so stupid and need to grow up, then why do you hang out with me? I’m too stupid and childish to be seen with Tsukishima. Please, let me out."

You try to say this in your strongest voice. You don't want to let Tsukishima know how much he's hurt you.

"Agh, fine!" He growls. He pulls up to the next stoplight and you start to get out. "But don't call me when he won't come pick you up!"

You slam the door and walk the opposite way of where Tsukki is driving. The rain has started to fall a little harder now and it doesn't look like it's going to let up. You find yourself walking to your favorite park and sitting on one of the benches. You decide to call your boyfriend and find out what's going on. Usually, he doesn't answer your phone calls when he stands you up, but to your shock he actually answers.

"Ugh, can't this wait ______? I'm in the middle of something."

"No, actually it can't wait. Why am I not good enough for you? Why do you always stand me up to go sleep with some other girl? You won't even touch me, but you don't seem to have a problem sleeping with a different girl every week."

"Baby, I don't know why you're acting like-"

"I don't know how many times I've told you I don't like being called baby! You would think that if someone cared about you they would respect your basic wants and needs. Listen, Tadao. We're done. I don't want to see you anymore. You can go sleep with all of the women and not have to worry about this extra baggage you have following you around. Not that you really cared before."

You were getting angrier and angrier the more you talked to him. If you talked too much longer, you knew you would break down. "______, where are you? Let's talk this out." "No. Goodbye, Tadao. Please don't contact me again.”

You hung up and started bawling. You realize you have simultaneously lost your boyfriend and best friend all in the span of 20 minutes. In a way, you felt more relief over the loss of your boyfriend. It was the loss of your best friend that was putting the most strain on your heart.

You weren't sure how long you were there crying on that bench when you noticed a tall figure coming toward you. Who would be out in this weather, you thought. As the figure got closer, you realized it was Tsukishima. Your heart beat began pounding in your chest. He approached with his hands in his pockets and nonchalantly sat down next to you in the pouring rain. It was a minute before either of you said anything.

"Tsukki-" "______-" you both say at the same time. He lets you go first.

"Tsukki, you were right. Tadao is an asshole and I was just deliriously hoping he actually cared for me. But it's obvious he doesn't. I..I broke up with him. I'm sorry for getting angry at you before. I was being childish and didn’t want to actually own up to my foolishness. I just...." your sentence was broken by an unexpected kiss from Tsukishima. At first you were taken by surprise, but then you kissed him back.

"No, ____, I'm sorry. I realize that I can be extremely blunt. I'm just so tired of seeing you get toyed with and played. You deserve to be treated right. I've been silent about this for too long and today was just the last straw. Please, let's go back to my place. We'll get dried up, order some take-out, and watch your favorite movie."

You were happy and confused at the same time. You didn't think Tsukishima cared that much for you. But looking back, you realize that he has been more like a boyfriend to you. "I'd like that, Tsukki,” you say with a smile.

You arrive at Tsukki's place and he lets you shower and dry off first. He gives you some of his clothes. They look comical on you. He soaks up this image; it's one he could get used to. He can't help but laugh. It's so sincere that you start to laugh, too.

You find yourself snuggled up under his arm watching a movie when there's a knock at the door. Panic hits you as you think you know who it is.

"Tsukki, what if it's Tadao?"

Tadao knew Tsukishima was your best friend and you always ran to him after any discrepancies the two of you had. "Just go wait in the bedroom. I'll take care of this." You stare at him with wide eyes, but you do as he says. You stay close to the door in order to hear what's going on. The door creaks open and you hear the all too familiar voice of your now ex-boyfriend.

"Tsukishomi, is _____ here? She won't answer my calls." Tsukihsima cannot wait to tell him off. It’s like he’s been waiting for the moment for so long. "Tadao, why do you even care? You've never treated her right. Just leave and don't bother calling her again." "Bro, I know she has to be here. She's not at her place. Let me in so I can talk with her." "She's not here, man. And even if she was, what makes you think I'd let you in and talk with her?Just go back to your flavor of the week and worry about them. _____'s not going to worry about you anymore."

You hear a thud and a groan comes from Tsukki. You can only assume that Tadao punched him.

"Whatever man. She's a bitch and you're a bitch. You're perfect for each other."

At that, Tsukki closed the door and you came running from his room. "Tsukki, what happened?!" It looks like Tadao sucker-punched him in the jaw. "Oh, Kei! I'm so sorry, this is all my fault!"

You rushed to the freezer to find something cold to put on his face. You brought him over to the couch and laid his head in your lap and placed the ice pack on his jaw. "I'm so, so sorry. I never meant for this to happen." Tears start welling up in your eyes. You never wanted to hurt Tsukishima.

"If getting punched in the jaw means I get to lay here with you like this, I would gladly get punched every day for the rest of my life," he smirked.

You smile and realize that Tsukishima can sometimes be a smart ass, but at least he will be your smart ass.

#tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #tsukishima #tw abusive language #tw cheating #tw violence #please let me know what you think!

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equestrianwritingsstuff · 3 years

Text

In recognition of 200 followers.....

I composed a list of 200 hero x villain dialogue prompts for you guys to ask me or reblog it and ask your own followers or if you take inspiration.

Thank you so much! It means a whole lot!

1. "I wish I had longer to love you."

2. "Sometimes being the greatest is being the worse."

3. "I will kill you if you die on me."

4. "Bury me... under a willow tree... with tulips and lilies to blossom in the spring and a small stream to keep me company."

5. "Villains aren't capable of love; yet, here I am crying over your grave."

6. "The kitten's name is Max."

7. "I'm going to get a beer."

8. "There is only one way to kill me, but you could never muster the strength to pull through."

9. "I'm dizzy with love for you."

10. "Hero, you are drunk not a toddler."

11. "I pledge to serve you willingly, butthead."

12. "Ride the waves with me." "You are a mermaid, no thanks."

13. "Stay awake for me; it's only a little farther."

14. "I can't carry you!"

15. "He isn't much, but we'll make do."

16. "I WANT TO SEE HER! LET ME SEE HER PLEASE. Please..."

17. "George Washington never told a fib, and I am greater than him, so trust me, Hero, when I say I am telling the truth."

18. "Eggs and butter make dough, knives and guns make death."

19. "You are insane."

20. "The bomb is going off in twenty seconds, Hero. Run now. I-I'm going to stop it."

21. "What is love?"

22. "I don't get the function of hugs."

23. "Mentally I'm good, but physically..."

24. "I only wished for happiness from that genie. I guess it was evil."

25. "Break him, shatter him, destroy him."

26. "Sing with me."

27. "Villain you are touch starved, not dying."

28. "What the heck did you do to your hair." "What? You don't like it?" "It looks like my cat's litterbox."

29. "Don't give me hope."

30. "I am not a disease or a parasite. I am a human. I am one of those millions you swore to protect."

31. "Kiss, marry, kill?" "Kill, kill, kill."

32. "You created me."

33. "Villain don't you dare pass out."

34. "I like the look of blood on you, compliments your eyes."

35. "I kinda dropped Hero through space."

36. "Power exhaustion sucks."

37. "Time to save the world. Yay!" *says in sarcasm*

38. "Let me feed you Hero."

39. "You do not have AC?!"

40. "Villain you have a fever."

41. "Am I drunk?"

42. "Movies. Nine o'clock. Don't be late."

43. "Lemme grab a beer and we are good to go."

44. "Don't. Look. At. Me."

45. "He just had his wisdom teeth out sooo." "How bad can it be? Villain has been shot with twenty tranq darts at one and didn't pass out... immediately anyway, took a good twenty minutes." "Well, you see-" "THE KITTEN IS TRYING TO KILL ME!!!!!"

46. "She needs surgery."

47. "It's a panic attack..." "KISS HIM!"

48. "Blood, gore, madness... this was made for me."

49. "Quit drooling on me and sit up."

50. "There's only one bed."

51. "He looks so cute when he sleeps."

52. "Of all the places to live, you had to choose a heavily fortified medieval castle two thousand years in the past?"

53. "You are a peacock Hero."

54. "Let's see who will drown first. You or me. One, two, three... let's go!"

55. "I wasn't always like this."

56. "Madness is for geniuses, not for me."

57. "It's just a sedative that's going to make you nice and docile."

58. "He's out." "Good, let him rest, villainy is hardwork."

59. "I love her, but she doesn't love me."

60. "If I had a choice to save you or me, I'd pick me."

61. "Gag her."

62. "They aren't made for this, give them mercy."

63. "Talk now or she dies."

64. "Broken ribs, broken jaw, broken arm... are you sure you want me to continue." "No." "Then tell me your name."

65. "Get me some thread and a needle. Just don't touch me."

66. "The police are coming."

67. "Tell me where she is. TELL ME WHERE IS SHE OR I WILL SLASH YOUR THROAT AND TOSS YOU IN THE SEWER!!!!!"

68. "I love you." "I don't."

69. "Hug me just one last time."

70. "Villain hey hey hey. Calm down. You've been in a pretty bad accident."

71. "They won't be able to walk again."

72. "Tell me... just tell if they made it."

73. "Can't you just poof me another arm?"

74. "If you saved all of them, you can save me."

75. "I'm really tired..."

76. "Sleep. I will stay with you."

77. "She is sixteen years old." "All musicians start young." "This isn't a concert, this is life. Stop ruining it."

78. "He"s been in an accident." "Where?" "Five minutes away from your place."

79. "I wish he wasn't unconscious, so I could talk to him. So I could thank him."

80. "It's been four months now. I have came everyday and, uh, I dunno what to say. Hero, I need you to wake up. I can't function knowing you are right here."

81. "I have a date." "Hmm with who?" "Supervillain." "When and where honey?"

82. "Shhhhhhh. Be quiet. We are still being hunted."

83. "Desert?" "What are you trying to do? Kill me?"

84. "I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you." "I know, I know dear and I so sorry, but I need you to help me. I need you to help them."

85. "Villain just sleep. Allow the drugs to take you under. Don't fight it, don't resist... just sleep. In the morning, we will be safe."

86. "Being lost in the woods isn't ideal."

87. "An injection of valium will do it."

88. "There's no anesthesia."

89. "Wouldn't it be great if we never met each other?"

90. "Bless you." "I didn't sneeze." "Yeah right. Now go sit down, you're sick."

91. "It's called insomnia you dim-wit."

92. "Join me and we can be great."

93. "You didn't bring me here for the cake." "No, dear, but you are so gullible. I brought you here for a sacrifice." "My life?" "Why yes."

94. "I don't know. I never had someone collapse on my doorstep before."

95. "I have nothing to lose. No family, no friends, just my meaningless life."

96. "That's my daughter, not the villain's... so give me her back before I rip your eyes out."

97. "How long was I out for?!" "Ten minutes, but you were drifting. I don't think you had that good of rest." "Oh, I thought I was asleep for hours."

98. "I know, I know you are going to hate me after this, but trust me when I say it's for the best."

99. "I know everything about you."

100. "I think narcissism is contagious because after watching you for a couple hours, I think I may have developed a little crush on the mirror..."

101. "What did you give me?"

102. "Is she screams, I'm going to scream, and then we are going to die."

103. "No fighting today, my cat just died."

104. "How hard did you punch me?"

105. "Not gonna lie, being delirious was epic."

106. "I am cooking for you. You aren't my servant, so stop thinking it."

107. "My old masters made me into a weapon and called me Villain, but if you desire a lapdog I am going to need to be refurnished to fit your needs."

108. "What is his deal?" "I think he's just crazy."

109. "Love is not what I had in mind when I agreed to go on a date with you."

110. "Hugs are overrated."

111. "Are you too hot or too cold?" "Both."

112. "I wish we could turn back time."

113. "I lost the game." "What do you mean? Hero is dead." "Precisely."

114. "Make a wish." "That you live."

115. "Villain has been acting exceptional! Today we granted them a break from the machine. Go ahead Hero and take him for some ice cream."

116. (Sleepy murmurs) "Don't go. I neeeed you." "Yeah yeah I know Villain."

117. "Villain was the one who hurt me, not Hero."

118. "Supervillain is in danger!"

119. "If everyone is scared of me, I might as well be alone."

120. "My head is killing me."

121. "Don't call an ambulance. Just... hold me."

122. "You don't have to do this. It's going to hurt you more than me." "Anything for you dearest, anything at all."

123. "Hero, go wash your hands before dinner."

124. "You have PTSD?" "I don't know?"

125. "I have soap in my eyes!' "Rinse it out." "Mm no I'm permanently mortally blinded." "Uh huh."

126. "We need to cuddle to keep warm."

127. "Take care of them for me, will you?"

128. "When I'm gone, promise to tell my mother, please."

129. "Drug him and then bring him to me."

130. "Superheroes are for children. In all honesty, we are all villains."

131. "Oh my gosh, Hero, what happened?" "Poisoned."

132. "Wouldn't it be nice?" "I don't fancy prosthetics."

133. "Just shut up and listen!"

134. "There is a memorial parade for Hero tomorrow. They asked you to lead it."

135. "She turned it around... at the end."

136. "I wish that he understood how much I care for him."

137. "Civilian! He fell asleep in my lap last night, like totally zooted. It was so cute, but also very tempting. I stuck a french fry up his nose." "Wow. Did he wake up then?" "Yeah, I am sorta kidnapped right now..."

138. "The book, the sword... all pieces of the puzzle huh." "No, darling, all pieces of my game."

139. "Their death is my fault! Not your's, but mine, so quit trying to make me feel better."

140. "Once upon a time-" "Oh please, not another fairytale."

141. "If only it was that easy."

142. "We are stuck in a maze, how can you be so joyful?"

143. "Celebrate Hero, eat your cake, party into the night... but just know, I will be back."

144. "Call 911!" "Why?" "I stubbed my toe."

145. "Your jawline looks like it was gauzed over in lard." "It looks better than your hay for hair."

146. "You're my best friend." "Villain? Are you on drugs?"

147. "Lay him there and leave him. Let the rats dine on him."

148. "The point of the cow suit?" "Oh, uh, I was at a Halloween parade. You know, for children."

149. "I-i never wanted to hurt you." "I know, I wanted you to, so I allowed it."

150. "Favorite movie?" "Your death." "Ooo never heard of it, let's watch it." "*groans* Oh my gosh, you are stupid."

151. "Being a flutist is my only superpower. And being modest apparently."

152. "Your head will join my collection if yoi don't watch out."

153. "Hey, hey! Wake up, buddy. It's just a nightmare."

154. "Meh head hurts." "Yeah, you hit it pretty hard."

155. "Let's go for a ride." "On that yellow miniature school bus?" "It's a ranger you idiot."

156. "No painkillers, no bandages, perfect environment for infection to settle... I'm just gonna leave you here Villain."

157. "I save you and this is how you repay me? A prison?"

158. "What are you doing?" "Climbing a tree? No Hero, I am breaking into your house to kidnap you."

159. "I formally apologize."

160. "Of all places, Hero, you had to teleport us to a desert. A DESERT."

161. "Supervillain won't stop unless we team up." "I don't think our alliance will stop them, I think it'll just make them angrier."

162. "Stop singing or I will blow this place until even the last atom is broken into itty-bitty molecules!" "That... that is scientifically impossible."

163. "I'm a genius! Yippee!"

164. "Life isn't perfect and nor is your morals."

165. "Control yourself before you kill everyone around you."

166. "Say your goodbyes."

167. "Of all the ways I've died, drowning was by far the nicest."

168. "Love the collar. Is it for fashion purposes?" "Uh, um, uh, er, no?"

169. "You look lonely. Want some hot coco?"

170. "It is negative million out there and you expect me to come in toasty warm after fixing your power?"

171. "Are you sick?" "Yeh." "Come on in then."

172. "Civilian, don't even bother trying to save him."

173. "We have a breach!"

174. "What makes a villain's life less important than your's?"

175. "Enjoy your soup." "You poisoned it." "And you're delusional, eat up."

176. "I hate 99% of the population." "According to a meme I found, you are therefore a cat."

177. "Don't overuse your powers."

178. "This is just an unfortunate event."

179. "You look so cute when you are sleepy and barely conscious."

180. "His fever is rising."

181. "Save her, leave me. I'll-i'll get out of this somehow."

182. "Sometimes self-sacrifice isn't noble, it's selfish."

183. "You are so funny that I need my inhaler to kill you with." "That sentence was so discombobulated that I am leaving."

184. "Just for your information, I hate oranges but love grapes."

185. "Walking down the stairs shouldn't be a momental effort." "You broke both your legs."

186. "You just destroyed my life's work, don't expect me to give you a huge bear hug."

187. "Is it true that you have telekinesis?" "Yes, why?" "Go steal me a donut."

188. "You are so incredibly touch starved, Villain." "Mmm." "Tired? Go ahead and sleep, I'm here."

189. "This is for your own good, I promise."

190. "I'm cold."

191. "I don't want to move and you can't make me."

192. "I AM RETIRED! YOU DON'T NEED TO CONTINUE TO SEND ME PAMPHLETS OF THE HOTTEST HERO OF THE YEAR!"

193. "He's unconscious." "That tired, huh." "No, he passed out from blood loss."

194. "I want a kitten."

195. "I'm no scared of you, so stop acting like I am."

196. "He isn't dangerous, just scared."

197. "They won't be going anywhere for a long, long time."

198. "Hero? Hero? Oh my goodness, please wake up."

199. "Life is too short for pleasures."

200. "I hope you are happy, in the end."

#heros and villains #ask game #200 followers #thank you so much

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sassycassie-s-writing · 3 years

Text

Hold My Phone

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): A Court of Thorns and Roses Series/Rhysand

Rating: PG-11/T- (v seductive flirting)

Original Idea: Modern!AU (kinda sorta not really)

Notes: (Masterlist)(By Character)(About Me) This one is so ridiculous. It’s basically a “Everything is Pretty Much the Same but They Have Phones” AU, not really a modern AU because I figured this would be how Rhys would handle having a phone with the High Lord act, lol

^^^^^

My phone buzzed in my pocket. In a meeting with some Autumn Court emissaries. I’m bored. Entertain me? Rhys’ text said.

Why are you texting me? Just use the mating bond, I texted back.

Yeah but I want these idiots to *know* that I’m bored of them and can’t be bothered to give them my attention.

Playing games with them?

Always.

Exactly how do you propose I entertain you?

It took his answer a few minutes to arrive. I wondered if it was because he was thinking about the wickedest, most flirtatious thing to say or something came up in the meeting that he did actually have to give his attention to.

What are you wearing right now? I shouldn’t have been surprised that was his reply.

My purple outfit. The dark purple one with the stars embroidered into it.

I’m debating asking you to send me a picture of you in it or asking you to take it off and send me a picture of *that*

I am not sending you any pictures while you’re in a meeting. I hadn’t replied to a text that quickly in a while.

His reply came quickly too, Send it down the mating bond then. No records ;)

I rolled my eyes and got to my feet. Up in our room, I stood in front of the full-length mirror, stared at myself while lowering my mental shield, shot the image I was looking at—fully clothed—down the bond, and then slammed my shields back into place.

It took seconds for an answering image of Rhys licking his lips with a feral gleam in his eyes to bump into my shield. I rolled my eyes. My phone buzzed. Delicious. As always, darling.

Happy?

Deliriously.

Go back to your meeting, you flirt. I’ll see you later.

But I’m still bored.

Don’t be a baby. I have a meeting in 30 minutes I have to get ready for with the governor of the Palace of Threads and Jewels.

What are you meeting with the governor for?

I don’t think it’s any big deal. Probably just going over some requests from patrons who have gathered together a bunch of things rather than hauling themselves up 10,000 stairs to the House.

Good luck.

You too. I set my phone down on my vanity. I hated getting rid of the loose pants and sleeves but I knew for a meeting like this that I’d need a gown.

I sent Rhys mental images of every gown I tried on before selecting one, and every hairstyle I thought of doing, asking his opinion and ultimately ignoring it when he seductively told me he liked the most revealing dress with my hair unbound. I definitely called him a name I had no plans on apologizing for before replacing my shields.

I ended up going with a modest midnight blue gown glittering with silver threads that would be appropriately formal, but not so formal it felt like an occasion. Instead of a tiara or crown or diadem I kept my hair out of my face with a comb that was made of black metal and studded with diamond dust to look like the night sky. Crescent moon-shaped sapphire taking up most of the space in the middle.

Nuala and Cerridwen approved of my choices and I shooed myself out to go see the governor.

—

I collapsed on the bed after leaving my dress abandoned on the floor. The meeting was exactly what I thought it would be and after all the requests I was tired. I genuinely cared about my people but putting forth the mental strain of trying to figure out how to fix so many problems at once I started having to pretend to be chipper.

I hadn’t realized I dozed off until a weight falling onto the bed beside me woke me up.

Rhys fell in such a way that he could sprawl his wings above me, taking up a good portion of the bed. He was in casual clothing—silver-buttoned black shirt with the top button undone to let his tattoos peek out, black pants, low black boots—but I knew him better than to think he’d gone to the meeting in them. As he fell, he sighed. “That was tedious,” he remarked, setting a hand on the top of my head and scratching my hair. His fingers brushed my comb and he stopped.

“Tell me about it,” I grumbled.

He sat up to lean over me. He gave me a long, slow kiss as he removed the comb from my hair. “You didn’t wear the dress I chose,” he teased.

“I asked your opinion, not to choose for me,” I countered. “Besides, I doubt you’d even want another male to look at me in a dress like that.”

“Fair enough,” he conceded playfully. He kissed the hollow behind my ear. “You can model it for me later.”

“Flirt,” I accused.

“Spoilsport,” he retorted.

His phone started ringing in his pocket. I recognized the personalized tone. He only personalized a few. Azriel’s, Cassian’s, Mor’s, Amren’s, and mine.

Heaving another sigh, he extracted the phone from his pocket. “What do you want, Cassian?” There was no bite at all to the words, just resigned fatigue. He listened to words I couldn’t quite make out as he fidgeted with my comb in his other hand. He rolled his eyes. “That can wait. I’ll squeeze it in tomorrow, okay?”

More babbling from Cassian’s end of the call. I thought I caught snatches of Azriel’s voice too.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’ll deal with it tomorrow. Bye.” He hung up, but I could still hear them talking as he ended the call. “Can never get one hour of peace with those two,” he muttered, silencing his phone.

He tossed it somewhere behind him and I heard it thunk on the rug.

“For tonight, darling, I have some much more entertaining events scheduled.” He bent over me and pressed another kiss to my lips. I kissed him back enthusiastically, reaching up to brush my fingers into his hair. He relaxed slightly, the weight of his head growing against mine as his neck tension softened.

“Let me silence my phone,” I said.

He waved a hand vaguely over his shoulder. “Done,” he said.

I smiled. “Bath before or after?”

“Hmm… after.”

“Fine with me.”

—

Both of our phones vibrating wildly on the end tables of our bed woke us the next morning. I jolted so hard I bonked my head on Rhys’ wing bone where he’d draped it over me as we slept, as he often did.

I reached out for my phone. There was no caller ID and the combination wasn’t one I recognized. That happened all the time. I answered anyway, assuming it was a matter of state, as usual. “Hello?”

“High Lady?” The voice was small and trembling. Not young, but frightened.

“Yes?”

“There’s something in the harbor.”

Before I could ask for more details, the caller hung up.

Rhys answered his phone much more lazily than I had. “This is Rhys,” he said. He never used his full given name to answer the phone. High Lord Tamlin, his enemy, could be calling and he’d still use Rhys.

He bolted up in bed so abruptly, his wing bone hit me in the back of the head. Thankfully the talon missed me. We both winced at the pain as he mouthed, Sorry, and leapt out of bed to get dressed. I figured I’d probably need to go investigate the harbor so I got up too and found a pair of pants, shirt, and overcoat. Socks and boots followed before I wound my hair into a bun so I wouldn’t have to braid it yet.

Rhys hung up. “Was your call about the harbor too?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I replied. “Though, whoever it was didn’t say much.”

“Same here. Ready?”

I put the same comb I’d been wearing the day before into the top of my bun so I had some sort of ornamentation on. “Ready.”

He grabbed me around the shoulders and winnowed us out of the house.

We reappeared on the docks.

A dark shape was moving around under the surface of the water. I grabbed the railing and peered over it. “Too fluid to be a whale,” I said, noticing a small gathered crowd taking pictures on their phones, some recording videos.

Rhys’ hand settled on top of mine. It’s moving like a serpent, he said down our bond.

My grip on the railing halted. A serpent? Now? Like—like a sea serpent?

He didn’t reply. His dark eyes following where the head’s shape appeared to be.

“Hold onto this for me,” he said, pulling out his phone and holding it out. I took it out of habit, barely noticing his wings extending.

“Wait—Rhys—don’t—!” Too late. He used a powerful launch from his wings to get him over the railing before plunging into the water. As he dropped, I saw his clothes change from the casual dark shirt and pants to his fighting leathers. I wasn’t even sure any of the faeries around us noticed the change. A few of them yelped as his splash sprayed into the air.

I clung to the railing, staring into the depths.

“Rhysand…” I complained. “Stop being so reckless.”

I heard that, he teased.

I meant for you to, I retorted.

Wanna see?

I’m holding your phone. I’m not getting in that water.

You know that’s not what I meant.

I sent the sound of my sigh down the bond and felt his chuckle in return. Fine.

A crack opened in his mental shield. I slid into it, keeping a tether to get me out whenever I wanted if I got freaked out. My eyes glazed over as I started looking through his.

The harbor water was relatively clear, but a bit blurry. I—no, Rhys—flexed his magic to clear up his vision. My—his—hair drifted in front of his eyes a bit.

A large, deep red sea serpent twined around ahead, barely visible through the murk. Large fins were tucked against its sides.

Wings? I asked Rhys.

Yes. For jumping out of the water and snatching sailors from their ships. Among other things, he replied. They usually dwell in the depths. Wonder what it’s doing here.

I didn’t reply as he swam closer. Inside his mind, I could feel him dismiss his wings to reduce drag. Feel the strength in his shoulders as he stroked forward. In his mind, I had no private thoughts, so I knew he felt my anxiety. My fear for his safety. I felt him send a wave of calm through himself. He wasn’t nervous at all—for whatever reason.

The serpent caught sight of him. My breath hitched, but Rhys didn’t even flinch. Gold eyes bored into him, fangs revealed in something of a snarl.

Sorry, love, Rhys thought, I need to speak to it mind to mind, and don’t want you here for it. Too hard to concentrate on two minds at once.

Fine with me, I replied.

He shoved me out of his mind.

I shook my head, blinking, as my consciousness returned to my own body. My hands were so tight on the railing that my knuckles were white.

Something tugged on my tunic. I turned.

A small faerie child with violet skin and long silver hair was standing beside me, looking up at me. “Are you alright, High Lady?” Innocence and genuine concern were in its voice. I knelt to be on the same eye level as the child, my hands resting on the phone in either of my pants pockets.

“Yes. Yes, I’m alright. Just concerned for Rhys.”

The child looked into the harbor. “Mama says the High Lord is very powerful. He’ll be okay.”

I smiled at the child. “Yes. Yes he will.” I reached into the pocket of my tunic, pulling out one of the small candies I kept in there for when children stopped to talk to me—and Rhys usually. I offered it to the child. Everyone in Velaris knew their High Lord and Lady kept candy for children on them, so the child accepted without hesitation. They took off the wax paper wrapper and stuck the candy in their mouth before running back to their parents.

Rhys appeared on the dock behind me, dripping wet. “What’d I miss?” he asked.

I jumped to my feet and whirled around. “You okay?”

“Fine. I convinced it to leave.” He nodded toward the dark shape slithering out of the harbor now. “It was actually lost, I think. I managed to give it directions.”

I chuckled. “Never a boring day in Velaris.”

He joined my chuckle. “Not at all. Cassian’s gonna get a kick—” He swore. “I forgot. Cassian needed my help. You still have my phone?”

As I pulled it out of my pocket, he waved a hand to dry off.

He plunked in Cassian’s combination. “Hey, it’s me. I’m on my way.” He reached out a hand for me. I took it. Dark wind whipped around us as we winnowed away.

#Rhysand #Rhysand Imagine #Rhysand FanFiction #ACOTAR #ACOTAR Imagine #ACOTAR FanFiction #Hold My Phone

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alovesongshewrote · 3 years

Note

If you’re taking requests, maybe something about Doux finding the reader absolutely delirious from lack of sleep? I may or may not have gotten literally any sleep last night and although I managed to get through my morning routine pretty efficiently I FEEL my body just wiping out. I will be comatose within the hour.

Sleep, Darling | Hisirdoux Casperan x Reader

Plot: you’ve been awake for too long and it is not doing you any favours. Thank god for punk wizards who care about your wellbeing, amirite lads? (Also, the pure Irony that this is getting posted at like, 2:40 am where i am, rip me i guess)

Word Count: 2,292

Warnings: A bit of blood is mentioned in passing, the reader isn’t human and probably has adhd or smthn. Also, Friends is mentioned, like, the tv show, so that’s a thing!

A/N: if you look closely, you can actually see me projecting onto this one. I hope you got some sleep anon.

Tags: @furblrwurblr @einahpetsyarcip @sorrels-scribbling @anxious-stitcher @alive-and-afraid @animedweeb333 @douxiesdamsel @saroski05

Time isn’t real. It’s a social construct made to bring order to the general chaos that is human existence. That was why you were up at 5 a.m for the second, maybe third, night in a row. Was it healthy? Probably not, but you didn’t need sleep, you needed answers. Answers to what? Who knows at this point, honestly.

You couldn’t say you were surprised when you finally noticed the late, or early hour. You just shrugged it off and went “fuck it, all-nighter,” which was fine for the moment. But time’s a bitch, and that moment was over pretty fast. By noon, you were ready to collapse. The three cups of coffee did not help. Instead, they made you vibrate at a frequency that could quite possibly break glass. As much as this sucked for you, it was worse for your lovely friend and co-worker, Hisirdoux Casperan.

Now, our boi Douxie was and is madly in love with you, but shhh, it’s a secret. You also love him, and that’s a secret too. Neither of these secrets are well kept, and the only reason you aren’t together is general stupidity. Literally, anyone else who watches the two of you interacting can tell that you're in love. Hell, half the town assumes you’re together already. The other half keeps trying to get you together. It is not working very well. But that’s all a digression. What you really need to know is that Douxie loves you and watching you suffer from a lack of sleep was Not A Pleasant Experience. You were delirious, shaky, and constantly off-balance. You could work well enough, but it was clear that your health was not in the same zone.

The final straw came when you cut your hand on broken glass. You’d dropped a cup, and instead of using magic, you’d tried to fix the mess by hand. That plan did not work, and you received a bloody slash across your palm for your troubles.

“Ah. Fuck,” you said, thinking you were whispering but instead speaking at a normal volume.

“What’s wrong, love?”

“‘S nothing, I’ve got it,” you did not got it, especially not in this state, and Douxie had the good sense to figure that out. The blood was a pretty good hint though.

“Oh, fuzzbuckets.”

“I told you, I’m toooootally fine, there is nothing to worry about.”

“Here, (Y/N), let me help you-”

“No, no, this is, this is-” it was then that your sleep-deprived brain decided to cut off your train of thought and replace it with another, more chaotic train. You stopped talking and just stared at Douxie for a solid minute. Or at least it felt like a solid minute. Time isn’t real, remember that.

“(Y-Y/N)? You alright there, darling?”

“You’re really cute, did you know that? Like… really cute. Steve was right, you could be a model.”

“I-”

“Also, just gonna put it out there, I freakin’ love it when you call me darling. Like, I know you call most people darling, but it makes me feel special. Don’t ask why, it just does.”

Douxie wasn’t planning on asking why. He wasn’t really planning on anything. Your sleep-deprived half-confession had turned him from a capable individual into a blushing mess in less than a second. You always had that effect on him, but it looked like your exhausted state was giving you a bit of an edge.

“Oh, sorry, I made it weird. Anyway, do you think if I brewed my next coffee with Monster instead of water it would wake me up? Because I’m still tired, and it isn’t fun.”

“I- you- I’m-”

“I think I might try it, honestly.”

“Ok, how about you don’t do that,” Archie said, swooping in, literally and figuratively, to save the day, “Douxie, can you please get (Y/N)’s hand patched up? It looks quite painful and they’re dripping blood onto the carpet.”

You were, in fact, dripping blood onto the carpet. That wasn’t good, “Oh, that’s- I’m sorry.”

“Don’t fret, just go do something about that hand,” with that, Archie smacked Douxie upside the head in an attempt to snap him out of his flustered state. It was super effective!

“Ahh, yeah. C’mon, (Y/N), let’s,,, go,,, fix,,, that.”

“Ok,” you stood, too tired to protest, and followed Douxie into the back of the bookstore, which was literally just his apartment.

It was a nice place. Very cozy, very him. It made you want to curl up and take a nap, but to be fair, literally everything made you want to curl up and take a nap at the moment. Regardless, his home made you feel warm and fuzzy on the inside and you never wanted to leave it. Maybe it was the interior decorating, but you knew it was because your favourite person lived there. What you didn’t know, or didn’t realize, was that you’d just spoken your entire thought process out loud and Douxie heard every word of it. Once again, the boy was a blushing mess. If you were awake enough to process things, you would have found it cute. Or you’d be dead from embarrassment, that one is a bit of a toss-up.

Fighting through his flustered state, Douxie pulled you into the bathroom and collected a first aid kit from under the counter. While he focused on getting things done, you curled into a ball in his bathtub. For some reason, your exhausted brain decided that sitting on the edge of the bathtub simply did not Vibe™ but sitting inside the tub was better than nothing, and so you just,,, curled up there. Douxie was only a little surprised to see you there.

“(Y/N)?”

“D’you remember that time on Friends when Winona Ryder played a closeted lesbian? That was a fuckin’ trip, man.”

“(Y/N), darling-”

“That whole episode is just- it’s just strange.”

“(Y/N)-”

“Hehe, Stranger Things.”

“(Y/N), love, I need to see your hand.”

“Oh, fuck, yeah, I forgot. Here,” you sat up, extending your hand out to the wizard. He took it, sitting on the edge of the bathtub which was fine for him to do, I guess. Not you though, you were stuck in bathtub jail for sleep deprivation crimes.

You squinted up at his face as he tended to the nasty scratch you’d given yourself. You didn’t have the capacity to focus on what he was doing, so instead you focused on him. He was pretty, as you’d said before, but that was always true. At that exact moment, his brows were furrowed in concentration, his eyes concerned and his jaw set. His hands were steadier than yours could ever hope to be, especially since you hadn’t been sleeping. Overall, he looked kind of mad, so you sunk down into your bath-prison, silent and waiting for him to finish so you could get back to work.

Douxie was not mad at you. He was upset that you hadn’t been sleeping, but he wasn’t mad. He was just worried for your health. Your wizard did not appreciate seeing you shaking and sleep-deprived. He didn’t appreciate it when your current state led you to injure yourself, either.

He wrapped up your hand and gave it a small pat, “Done. Now, come on, you’re taking a nap.”

His voice surprised you. It was gentle, calm, not at all angry like you’d suspected. You found yourself so lost in it that you didn’t realize what he’d said until he said your name, trying to snap you out of whatever haze you were in.

“Oh, wait, what? No, shit, I have to get back to work-”

“No, you need sleep.”

“Sleep is for the weak, I need to go-” you stood and almost fell over. You probably would have broken something if Douxie didn’t catch you. You hadn’t exactly expected to end up in his arms today, and despite the heat rising in your face and neck, you were not complaining.

“(Y/N)-”

“I’m sorry, Douxie, I-”

“You need to sleep. Please, (Y/N), don’t make me use a spell on you.”

You froze for a second before a smirk crept onto your face, “You wouldn’t.”

“I-”

“You wouldn’t use a spell on meeeeee-” the smirk grew into a full smile as you let yourself go limp, forcing him to move his hands to support you better and pull you closer to him. Was that your plan? Maybe. Was it part of a second, bigger plan? Also yes.

“You wanna bet?”

“Sure.”

“I-” and then he went silent. There was a moment of tension where you just stared into each other’s eyes, holding your breath to see what the other person would do. Your gaze fell to his lips as his fell to yours. For that moment, your thoughts began to wander far out of your control. Douxie’s mind was also running rampant but in a different direction. You were right, he thought. He couldn't use magic on you. As far as he knew, you were a human. Just a mortal being who crawled their way into his life and stayed there, improving the quality of it greatly. If there was even the slightest chance that a spell may have negative side effects, which most sleep spells did, he wouldn’t dare risk it, especially not on you. He sighed, tightening his grip on your waist, “You’re right.”

“What?” Oop, plan going sideways, PLAN GOING SIDEWAYS!

“I’m- not going to use magic on you,” he helped you to stand, and moved to take a step back before you grabbed his hoodie and pulled him back to you, ignoring the sharp sting in your hand.

“Ok, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, hang on there wizard boy-” you took a moment to pull yourself out of the bathtub entirely, “You can’t give up that easily.”

“Wha-”

“Come onnnnnn, make it fun, make it exciting. Put a spell on me or whatever, just-” you went quiet for a second, but for once you weren’t distracted. Just quiet. You had to face facts. Your plan had failed, and now you had nothing but the truth.

“(Y/N)?”

“Just make my brain stop. For just two seconds.”

“What?”

“Please. I’m running on a motor and I can’t stop myself. I haven’t slept and I have no choice in the matter.”

“(Y/N)-”

“Look, just, take away my free-will if you have to. Knock me out, magic or otherwise, I just want five seconds where I’m not on hyperdrive,” you were standing on your own now, though Douxie’s arms were still wrapped around you and you hadn’t let go of his hoodie, “Please.”

The bathroom was silent for a minute. It took that long for Douxie to process what you’d just said. You feared, for that moment, that you’d said too much. You hadn't. Not to him, anyway.

“Come on.”

“What?”

“Come on,” he said, picking you up, effortlessly sweeping you off your feet.

“Wait, what!?” your voice was slightly more frantic, surprise lacing through your words.

“There’s more than one way to get a person to sleep.”

“Oh-?”

He didn’t respond to your question, instead, he carried you out the door and into what you could only assume was his room. You had no choice but to wrap your arms around his neck and cling to him for dear life until he set you down on the bed.

“Stay here, okay? I’m going to make you some tea-”

“Wait!” you stopped him, grabbing his wrist as he turned to leave, “I’m… I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to be sorry, my darling,” he sat in front of you on the bed, “You just need to get some sleep, okay?”

“But what about-”

“I’ll cover your shift, you don’t need to worry.”

“I-”

“Just rest, for now, love. Please.”

“Ok,” your words were a whisper, something that Douxie could only just hear. The next thing though, he didn’t have to strain to hear at all, “Yeah. I meant what I said earlier, by the way. You’re so pretty, it isn’t fair.”

He laughed at this, at you, finally seeing some humour in your shenanigans. He relaxed now knowing that you may actually get some much-needed rest. He stood, kissing your forehead and tracing the side of your face with a hand, rough from guitar strings and 900 years of sweeping.

“Worry not, love, you’re pretty too.”

“Hey, wait-”

“Don’t ‘hey, wait,’ me. You are. Now lie down, I’ll be back in a second.”

A smile crept onto your face as you followed orders. Your emo wizard man thought you were pretty. And he cared enough about you to let you sleep during work hours, in his home, no less. You let yourself relax into the bed, grinning once again. It smelled like him, like thyme and peppermint, lemongrass and sleep. It was nice, comforting. You could only vaguely think of Douxie as your brain finally took a fuckin breather. It was everything you needed, honestly.

By the time Douxie came back, you were long gone, lost to your dreams and finally asleep. He sighed a smile that matched yours on his face. He placed the cup of tea on the bedside table before grabbing a blanket out of his closet and draping it over you. You looked so peaceful. Good. You deserved some peace every now and then.

He took the cup and left you, brushing a strand of hair out of your eyes as he did. After making his exit, he placed the still-hot tea on the counter, disregarding it for now before returning to the bookshop.

“How are they?” his familiar asked, tail twisting in concern.

He gave a final fond look at the door before returning to business, “They’re just resting.” And for once, you were.

#hisirdoux x reader #hisirdoux casperan x reader #douxie x reader #douxie imagine #hisirdoux imagine #angst #fluff #hisirdoux #hisirdoux casperan #douxie #toa douxie #toa hisirdoux #tw sleep deprivation

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bluebellhairpin · 3 years

Text

No Feelin’

Fantasy AU!Levi Ackerman X Fem!Reader

Part Two - No More

A/N: I’m so glad to be a part of this. I had a lot of fun, and I have always liked the ‘Enemies to Lovers’ dynamic. I just hope this doesn’t got out of the rules - I didn’t actually read them - so if it does .... ‘oopsie?’ - Nemo

Summary: Service to the king became tiring. Someone rose up and became an enemy to the crown - stealing a cured sword, that gives untamable power to the wielder. The Kings Captain finds himself positioned between her and what she wants.

Warnings: Violence. Smexual tension. Blood. Alludes to Dom!Reader.

Listening to: ‘VILLAIN’ by K/DA (slowed) - ‘Am I really that bad if l love to make you mad?’

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“Take it off. Slowly.”

“What, this little thing?” You took out the long blade, it’s sheath still hanging at your side. It reflected a matching bright red glow into your eyes, a shine he could see from across the room. “I didn’t think it’d worry you that much, Captain of the Guard.”

Levi could tell you were just playing with him. Your voice was smooth like honey, and richer than the king’s gold hoard. It sent a shiver down his spine - or maybe that was just the cold in the room? - but your voice paired with your eyes told him that it was not the cold.

You never used to be like that.

“It doesn’t belong to you.” he said, raising his voice as if that would make you do as he says, “So I’ll say it again - take it off, and give it to me. I may be lenient if you comply -”

“- Blah, blah blah. Comply, do as I say.” You cut him off, twirling the sword around your fingers before the hilt fell back into your palm again. “Doesn’t that ever bore you? It sure as hell bored me.”

He stiffened as you started walking across the room, passing the columns and getting closer and closer. Leaving the doorway behind and cornering him at the throne. The red sword dragged behind you, metal scraping against stone, and he grit his teeth at the sound.

It left a glowing red streak in its wake.

“Surely you know the power this holds,” You smiled as you looked up at where he stood, one of your feet resting casually on the first step up to the throne. “That's why you want it back.”

“It’ll corrupt you.” He hissed, pulling out his own sword in counter. “‘Blood to bone, and bone to stone; The price of the throne, it will leave you alone’, that’s what the sword says. You’ll never come back from where it’s taking you, and you’ll have no pity from anyone.”

You raised the blade, studying the foreign language, before tapping your elongated fingernails - to him they looked more like metal talons - along each letter with a laugh. Then your eyes flicked up to his, the crimson color only brighter now that you were closer.

“That’s what everyone thinks it says, yes.” you said, waving the sword around as you gestured, “But that’s just petty human insight. This was carved by gods, made to be wielded by only the strongest of the worthy. No human would understand what that means.”

Levi looked down at the weapon, eyeing the words.

“Dare I ask what it does it say?” His words made your grin widen, lips pulling back to reveal sharp canines.

“So curious.” You said, walking up a step with each syllable. “So adorable.”

You raised your sword to him, and he quickly moved his own to block it - otherwise it would’ve been uncomfortably close to his neck. You stepped forward again, pressing closer and adding more pressure.

If his own sword didn’t have magic in it, he was sure it would’ve been turned to ash. He could feel the heat from your blade already.

“So tell me Little Captain, which tunnel did your king use to run away?” He sucked in a sharp breath. Only the royals and their most trusted knew about the passages. And yet you did too. “Ohhh, you are just so cute trying to think on your feet.” You laughed.

“I’ll die first.” he said, pushing you off with a grate of metal against metal and making you stumble back down a few steps. “You want nothing but power. Just like any storybook villain. And storybook villains always lose.”

You settled yourself again, tutted at him.

“And yet I’m the one to draw first blood.” you said, mocking eyes catching his as you watched a slither of dull red drip down from the tip of your sword, “All bark and no bite.”

He rose a hand, touching his cheek. It erupted in pain at the contact, blinding his right eye. He felt it burning, the heat running through his veins to settle a dull ache in his chest.

“You’re lucky it wasn’t deep,” you said, speaking as if consoling a child with a scuffed knee, “Deeper than that and you could be out of commission.”

His own sword lit up, the engraving glowing white as it helped to counter the tainted cells you gave him. The sight in his eye returned first, and he lunged down at you.

“You talk too much.” he grunted, swinging a large arch at you, pushing you further from the throne and back towards the exit.

“What, you want me to put my mouth to better use?” you countered, catching his legs with your foot and held your sword to his throat. He fell on this back, winded, and his own sword was just out of reach.

As your sword dug into the stonework, and left a dull warmth at his neck, you stood over him, lowering to kneel on one knee above his torso.

“For you that would be an honor.” You practically purred out the words, eyes lazy, and any half-minded person would be weak at their knees for such an opportunity. But you weren’t exactly the healthy kind of alluring. Not right now, anyway.

“You’re a temptress.” He said, hand slowly reaching out for his castaway sword.

“The best kind.” You leaned forward, head level with his, and only inches apart.

“I’ll kill you.” He only needed to reach a little further then he’d -

“Ah ah,” your hand shot out, voice soft and hushed like you were telling a secret, and grabbed his wrist, pinning it down, “Nobody can kill me.”

He reared up, kneeing you in the stomach, and used your moment of surprise to grab his sword, roll you both over, and pin you down in turn. He held your arms down, pinning them under his knees, and held his sword at your throat. You smiled.

“A fire? Very nice -”

“Shut up.” his eyes narrowed, and his sword pressed into your skin, “I could kill you right now. Spill your blood all over the stone pavers. I’ll do it. Slit your throat so damn clean that they wouldn’t even see the cut once they’ve got the blood cleaned up!”

Your smile faltered, but your eyes darkened.

“So kill me.” You said, challenging him. “Kill me, and don’t regret it.”

He looked down at you, jaw clenching, his knuckles whitened as he held the blade tighter. But he hesitated too long. Why was he waiting? Was he showing you mercy?

You jolted your legs up behind him, linking your ankles and hooking them around his neck. Then you slammed down - cracking his head back against the stone - and rocked yourself up between his legs to then wrap your hand around his throat, fingers splayed up onto his chin.

“You should know better than to wait that long, Little Captain.” You brushed your nose with his, looking down at him though lidded eyes. He looked delirious. Like he was only half awake. With a knock to the head like that he should be dead.

You looked over to his hands, finding his sword lit up like the night sky, the energy making the veins in his fingers and arm glow. You wondered how interesting that was - his sword could heal, while yours corrupted. The irony.

“You’re crazy.” he slurred, somehow managing to look right at you despite the fog in his eyes, “You’ll never win.”

You turned back to him, almost laughing into his mouth.

“I already have,” you said, “I have you right where I want you.”

“Tell me what it says.” he said.

“The sword?” you mused. Lifting the sword up to rest between you, Levi was lost in a daze between the red metal and the blood of your eyes, both reflecting off the other and making him dizzy. Was he seeing double?

“‘From chaos to healing, is where to gain the sealing; Where they be kneeling, you’ll have no feeling.’ I have an advantage, Levi Ackerman.” You said, and for a sweet moment he had clarity, but like a dream after you wake it was gone. “Find your advantage.”

You then stood, letting him go as you trailed your sword down his front before just walking away.

“Then find me,” you turned back to him, “If you’re brave enough.”

#surprise server collab #levi ackerman x reader #attack on titan x reader #shinjeki no kyojin x reader #levi ackerman one shot #attack on titan one shot #shingeki no kyojin one shot #fantasy au

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psychemeanscure · 3 years

Text

PART 29 {Finally!! and it’s been a week of stress indeed. 😞 But thankfully things slowly gets better and better for our Mum YJ 🤗 And for the record? I just wanna say, I’MAPUPPY!😂🤣 I maybe expert on reading smuts but I do am puppy in writing. hahaha. So for you who was left hanging from the prev. part... Better live it to your imagination guys. keke}

Gentle breeze of summer hay, daylight hues of morning skies, a serene waves of crystal seas. And of course, what’s much more perfect for Jang Taeyoung other than his living Aphrodite’s side profile. Sitting on her daybed balcony, wearing an ash gray robe, drinking her set of bottled water. ‘Fresh from a bath.’ He can tell.

“F*cking hell.” Scolding his own innuendo while she ain’t even doing anything but sit!

A resting elbow, a root of knuckles assisting a tight jaw suppressing a taste of his volatile prey once again. Shifting gazes with a rising pet under the sheets of hot mess they’re in throughout the night. “I can’t blame you Bud. It’s been a while indeed.” Like a consoling friend to his long sleeping member. Yet, she’s beautifully tempting to ignore for so he decided.

Sung Eunyoung on the other side, cannot contain her smiling from coming. Feeling absurd by a single thought in mind. She, being intimate with the man she used to brush off her senses surprises her. Not in her whole life did she expect that but now? “Unbelievable. You are so unbelievable, Sung Eunyoung.”

“Unbelievable. Yes, it is.”

A breathy voice speaks after her. That the same person who exactly did a great chaos of her sanity. Jang Taeyoung’s snaking hand on the fabrics of her robe is enough for her to feel the tingling sensation she starts to familiar with. Slanting to get a glimpse of him from behind for there she is being drooled by those dark orbs which only sees is her and only her. She saw it all. The way her own reflection radiates the apples of his sight. And for the first time in a long time…

She felt proud. He’s solely hers. “Jang” She have to say it, like a validation she wanted to seal. And so she did. A peck to her shoulder, a rubbing thumb circling her belly as well as a seeming smile he gives in, and the sight that never left hers. She confirmed.

“Morning, sunshine.”

Before she knew it? She’s already responding, giving the same curve as he did. “Same as you, Mr. Jang.” Her smile that he cannot take, he eventually stole a kiss on her glossy lips. Thus she hissed a glare, frowning by the sudden chaste she least expected. “I knew it. Tss. Seriously, Jang Taeyoung. Hold it, will you?”

Just to garner his famous snigger. “I can’t promise though. You already awaken him, Eunyoung. You tell me.”

True to his words, she did felt its pet inside his sweatpants bulging behind her. Rolling her eyes, she retorted. “Por favor, Loco. You tire me so shut it.”

Much to her dismay, there ain’t much worse than a stubborn Jang Taeyoung it is. What’s new. A traitor hand sensually sneaking inside her, yet after a slicking smirk on his face. “Is that so? But it seems like I’m much tired Mi amor, considering you even went up first than I am. Isn’t it?”

A jolt from her own, and she’s sure she’ll going to deal another of his expertise. While a sudden image he almost forgot to open up pops his mind. “And oh! Speaking of first…” he begins his contractions. “You’re a damn seducer woman. Sex education, eh? And here I thought you merely took up the common ones. Damn, if I only knew about it early I should have ravished you even back then. You and your wise mind it is, Ms. Sung.”

‘So he saw it. Mierda!’ she can only think of scolding herself. If not her being too occupied that time, she would have known what his contemplating stare mean the moment he stands in front her piled achievements. “So I was wondering…” thus he started his interrogating response.

“Since the educator has already enlightened the writer. Then isn’t it best for the writer to do his part too?”

Right after the impeccable swirl work of his tongue through her neck, he follows his judgement. “Here, in your daybed. You, my tempting empress and I, your welcoming slave. Writing a better version of Kamasutra. What do you think? Hm?”

And she lost it.

As to a delirious awe of her parting lips subsided, slumping back leaning by the nakedness of his chest, carves of its toned tattoos filling the heat of her whole soul. She accepted her defeat again, for rumor whom she cursed to avoid through a lifetime has it. Him, being the infamous Jang Taeyoung in bed that every bold ones looks forward to. Is indeed one fat truth! Which now she shamelessly admits includes her. A one big slap to her denials. A screw momentum for her living pride. She’s hopeless for she starts to become unsure herself between the reason of her own desire.

Was it because of the fact that he’s simply a natural taming scavenger? Or rather it was his effortless sweet talk calling of giving her names of his liking? Either, or. It’s just seems her writer has finally taught her of what a word insatiable means. A kind of pleasure that had slowly become her favorite thing. Before she realized? They eventually did it again. In her daybed. Feeling the sweats of their aftermath solitude. Hearing each other’s heaving breaths.

Sometime later. Reviving from a huffing state she opts to turn her head to face the weariless man next to her, spooning her and ready for a possible round he’s wishing. Yet, not on her watch as she quickly grabs his sultry hands off her. “Loco, please. I have other things to put at work. Spare me, will you?”

Even when she ends up slapping him afterwards. Him and his slyness, what’s new. “Cabrón.” A set of warning before a groaning contrary by him happened. “Tss. You and your threats.”

“And when did a simple warning become a threat,” Sitting up to fix her disheveled robe. Frowning to face the culprit himself. “Huh?” followed by a glancing inquiry she demands for answer. “Whatever smart Sung. As if you let me slip anyway.” A frustrated man came to visit for defiance.

She almost forgot to suppress herself to snigger. For heaven’s sake! She supposed to remain compose even, yet damn this sulking loco of her ruining everything that the only choice she had is to hold her breath to stop a bursting demeanor. Good thing she had her back on him that he’s clueless of what she’s up to, trying to make herself calm as much as possible.

Biting her lips for the last time, “You’re mad at me?” she managed to reciprocate an indecent follow-up, facing him. “FYI Mr. Sly fox, whose fault is it anyway that I have been bombarded with numerous calls from my superiors and so my presence is a must this instant? Good thing my phone is still working even after being thrown. I’ll definitely kill you if it isn’t. Tss.”

“Dare if you can.” Raising up while avoiding her sight, he sprints back inside her bedroom picking up his tussled summer shirt to as well cover his shirtless figure before mockingly staring at her. “As if I was the one who rejected the call even, when in fact the only thing I did was to tease you. That is.” Upset by how suddenly hard to button his shirt, a cussing Jang finally came by. “F*cking shirt!” a forcing hand frustratingly put on-hold.

And she can’t hold any longer. “Hmpp--- pfft! Hahahahah.”

“Now your laughing. Wow.” Indeed. She had freely put herself from laughing out loud, so enough to flex her low vibrato. “Really, woman?” Another of his rebuke for she still doing it. “Sung Eunyoung! I tell you woman, if you don’t stop I might just---“

“Okay! Okay. I’ll--- hahah--- sorry. Okay, uhum. I’ll stop. There. Are we good?”

“Whatever. Tsk.”

Sensing his mug menace, she eventually stopped for real, approaching the man who felt victimize. “Hey, cutie.”

“Did you just call me---“

Something sealed onto his lips before he could actually finish his sentence. It was hers to begin with. The savoring taste he cannot attain to sweep away for so in just a snap of it, his frustration fade away. As fast as that, she swiftly turns the table while he has to curse himself for being a muted cub with this volatile woman in front of him silkily volunteering to button his shirt herself before giving a scrutinizing stare that drown him to dive in the depths of his sensible soul.

“Is this the real you, Jang Taeyoung? An ever persistent man with the woman he like? Hm?”

He remained speechless. Not long before he clamor to decide beneath himself. Proclaiming to dive along the eye-banging they begun to get used to. “Yes. And you have never been the woman I like, Sung Eunyoung. Let me just correct you in that part because you’ve always been a lover for me. That is.”

He confessed, and she was taken aback. Silently gulping on her own, she can only hide her fluster. She won’t let herself get defeated that easy. Not yet. Sliding away her hold from his nape as she crossed her arms provoking him instead. “You, sly. You pretty sure it isn’t just the lust talking?”

Levelling her pace, he countered back. A brow, twisting to bicker. “Given. You can’t blame me. I’ve been caged enough with celibacy, woman. Just so you know.”

“Is that so? Well sad, Loco. Seems that woman of yours can’t spend a whole day for you.”

“F*cking sh*---“

“La mierda. Halt that vulgar mouth of yours, will you?”

“Like who’s talking as well. Now woman, if you keep making excuses just not to spend time with me, it’s not working.”

She surrendered. A sweeping hand thru the air and a clicking tongue of mockery. She debated. “Aish. Fine. For the peace of your mind then let me just tell you Mr. Jang Taeyoung that aside for the urgent school agenda, I will actually go straight to meet my parents for dinner. There? Does it answer all your question?”

Crossing her arms once again before the unexpected bafflement she never imagined to see from him happened. Looking by his reaction, she was left confused as if he suddenly reminded of something he had forgotten in a while. Nevertheless, she crossed the idea anyway. Choosing her assuming one instead.

With a dreary sigh, she banters. “Right. How come I expect that my parents-pass will actually work for you. I’m foolishly hoping for nothi---“

“Oh…”

“Oh?” surprised by his reply, somehow she unconsciously responded the same before shrugging the thought off and obliged to fill her discontinued one different from the original she opts to be.

“--- Miraculously. Thank you then, Loco. Congratulation eh, that’s new.”

She even dared to add some teasing at the end of her sentence, just to be unheard by still zoning man in front of her. “Cabrón?” Wanting to get his attention, she retaliates not knowing it was actually a start of a counter. An eyeing man bound to release an unexpected reply. “Can I tag along?”

“Of course, you sha--- what?!”

An embellish retort came after her indeed. “Come again, Jang Taeyoung?” A sassy man tacking its hands in his pockets responded instead. “I said can I tag along. So, can I?”

“And why would I?”

“You never know…” Shrugging off, a knowing smirk faces her.

“No.”

Thus the stern word she decides to give in. “Now if you’ll excuse me, Mister. I have to get change already.” Forcefully pushing the stubborn man behind her closed doors, a piercing shut has been heard.

But screw her for underestimating everything for it was still her in the end being clowned by what was happening around her all along. “What the.”

“--- hell?”

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