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#I do commend the attempt though
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new art for merch?
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They’re really hyping up this release for some reason 🤔 so maybe it’ll be an extensive line of new merch featuring this art??
It seems to feature the TWST boys in the more classic Disney traditional animation art style. The clothes are suits with sashes and crystalline sleeves, which look like something a Disney prince would wear (just with less color).
So far only two examples have been released (Riddle and Leona, pictured below). We will see more designs in the days in come!
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mooishbeam · 7 months
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『♡』 In the Ring
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♡ featuring: boxer!wriothesley x manager!reader
♡ summary: its hard managing a boxer full time. maybe it's time you relieve that stress. wc: 6.8k+ (???>":>?)
♡ cw/tw: mentions of trauma, mentions of violence, rough sex, overstim, face-sitting, size kink, unintentional edging, hair pulling, mentions of choking, argument, confessed feelings, slow burn, kinda toxic?
notes: can u tell how down bad i am for wriothesley. also do yall like the smaller text cause I do. jing yuan fluff next :)) art by sxnalien on twitter! <3 comments and reblogs are appreciated!
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For a second, the crowd stills. Bright intense lamps illuminate the sweltering squared circle, buoyant under the nimble movement of the boxers. They trade blows, bobbing and throwing each devastating hook with an even deadlier counter. No one took a hit for the past minutes, and the audience scoots to the edge of their seats at the sheer stamina of the two. Both dripping sweat, barely holding on between the merciless clock and their steadfast opponent. You can almost hear the breeze of swift jabs cutting wind against their jaws. The one with blue gloves can barely manage to guard himself, with a swollen face and wobbly legs, while the crimson gloves deal relentless punches. The crowd shouts. Unintelligible echoes, some that pray for the win, others grieving the money they’re about to lose. He’s caught on the ropes, and attempts a wild swing to save himself, to save his career. Red gloves weaves effortlessly and delivers a brutal crush to his bloodied nose and possibly busted mouthpiece. The crack is resounding, it makes the commentators cringe. His skull flies back, and he comes crashing down from his dizzying tower. The head-first fall vibrates beneath the feet of investors in proximity. 
DING DING DING 
Mass uproar ensues. They jump out of their seats, flailing their arms, joy and pain in equilibrium. 
“And he is out! It’s all over!” the commentator yells. Confetti floats golden dust from the ceiling. The victor stalks the ropes before hopping on them, his gloves raised in the air. Glistening, high off elation, but somehow composed in his attitude, akin to a wolf. 
“A savage knockout from the untouchable world champion, the king of the ring, Wriooothesley!” 
“Wrio, Wrio, Wrio!” they chant. You’re standing near the ropes, already identifying which joints you’ll need to observe after his victory lap. It’s hectic, and you’re jotting down the state of his figure. Past experiences sew through each deep scar carving his rugged biceps and abs, the bruises display early signs of discoloration. He’s tall on the unseen throne, it feels like you’re there with him. A million eyes in that vast stadium, and yet, those midwinter eyes ebbed in silver only look at you.  
Your beginnings as a manager were tumultuous. You could barely comprehend how out of your league you were working for a renowned agency fresh out of college. Though you found quick success in your ability to grab the attention of investors through public relations, you weren’t equipped just yet with the hindsight in preparing for scandals. The other athletes you worked with served no problem, and so you never had to worry about their appeal. Higher ups praised your extensive portfolio, and at such a young age, it was even more commendable. You earned it, fame and respect, interviews and gossip—a delicate dance. You were always busy, assisting your clients throughout the day and maintaining their presence while they slept. It was hard work, but you loved doing it. 
That was until you worked with amateur boxer, Childe. 
A snappy, overconfident lightweight fighter with no regard for anything or anyone. He had an unmistakable void in his eyes, but you fought for him ceaselessly, to prove that he wasn’t the cold person he portrayed himself as. You bore with his flirtatious compliments and innuendos, the need to focus him whenever you documented his afflictions, and he’d not-so-subtly flex his biceps. Childe was unnecessarily violent with underhanded tactics. The media knew this and did everything to amplify that bellicose story. You’d combat it, negate it, but he only fed the flames with threats of retaliation. Taking his phone wasn’t enough, and you couldn’t get through to him. It was only a matter of time before he went off the deep end.  
The day you slept, you discovered a restlessness you’d endure indefinitely. The flickering glow of your device woke you at midnight as hundreds of notifications congested your screen. 128 missed calls from your agency, 50 from news sources, and none from Childe. When you processed the damage from his deplorable stunt, you nearly hurled your phone out the window. He posted revenge porn, and evidently turned off his phone. Surely, there’d be a way to fix this. The chances seemed to dissolve with each text turning green. You started pacing, battling with morality and loyalty and anger. What he did was disgusting, but it’s your job to save him, right? Is he worth saving? You spoke with 4 managers at once, switching through motives and bickering until morning. As you flipped through the television, another emotion struck you. 
There he was, on a tasteless gossip channel. An interview you didn’t arrange, with a man you’ve never seen before. And he was...crying? The sob story emitting from his deceitful lips was almost impressive. Childe went on about how “demanding and horrible” you were backstage. The crocodile tears dried up through dodgy anecdotes, but it was enough to have people hooked. You were allegedly physically and emotionally abusive. He was too scared to speak up due to your position and he just couldn’t bear it any longer. Then he dropped the bomb; he blamed you for his post. You forced him to do it, jealous of his previous partners, emphasizing how enamored you were of him. The questionable tears began to fall again, but this time he covered his mouth, withholding the duping smile crawling on his face.  
You were filled with blinding rage, unable to control the fury at which your remote connected with the screen. It was everywhere now, social media websites booming with live opinions. He had no reason to slander you, and you couldn’t pinpoint why he chose to hurt you like this. You cried for him, shared stories of childhood and family. The knife you used to protect him was firm in your back, twisting and digging with each disgusting message in your inbox. You had no game plan to conduct, and no tears left to cry.  
Within a week, you finally understood how cruel this industry could be. Within a week, you were no longer on top. You lost clients fast. It spread like wildfire and not a single outlet spared an ear for your side. People you called friends, coworkers, hadn’t replied to your messages. When you got back to work, the rooms were silent as you passed. You could feel their judgement, whispers rattled with rumors and accusations. They waited for the tiniest slip-up and pounced like hyenas—you were eaten alive by their pitiful stares. You attempted to tell your truth multiple times throughout the week, but it was consistently rejected. The headlines were eye-catching: 
“Manager From Hell: Childe Tells All!” 
“He Cries: A Story of Love and Jealousy” 
Your stomach churned to the magazines being shown. Despite the great amount of loss you suffered, you were thankful for the one person that believed you, your boss. 
“Childe is a lying little snake. The media knows that, too.” 
“Then why is this happening?” 
“Money. That story is making bank right now. But I know for a fact you wouldn’t do this” he reassured.  
“Thank you, sir. But...I lost everything; I just don’t know what to do.” The weariness was heavy in your voice. 
“I have someone you can manage. It won’t be easy, but if anyone can do it, it’s you.” You were unsure of yourself now, and he continued.  
“You’re one of my best. If you want to climb out of this, now’s your chance.” Yes, you were unsure, drowning in doubt. But if the only way to get above water was to keep swimming, you wouldn’t give up so easily. 
Wriothesley wasn’t exactly known for his kindness. Crude, cocky, maybe even spoiled were descriptions that circulated in the tabloids. He had a knack for pissing reporters off by not answering questions or humming over their voice with a shit-eating grin on his face. Women loved him, however, throwing bras and phone numbers written on scrap as the condemned “bad boy” departed post-game. They screamed his name at once, and he’d done nothing to deserve it. He relished infamy—that way, it was much harder to pry into his private life. 
It had to be a coincidence that it was someone you fangirled over. In college, your eyes were glued to the screen every Sunday, waiting for Wriothesely’s post-conference and behind the scenes interviews. He didn’t speak often, but just the sight of those inky strands streaked with ash made your heart flutter featherlight in your chest. 
When you first approached him, he was just as arrogant as you’d expect. 
“Good evening!” you beamed. You caught him outside the gym, and he still had his headphones in. Full volume and blankly staring as you went on about the opportunity, silent under the blaring music. He took one earbud out when you finished. 
“Hm? Who’re you?” 
You were slightly annoyed. “Let me reintroduce myself, I’m (Y/N). Your new manager.” 
“No. Bye.” He began to walk past you without an ounce of care. You couldn’t lose it like this. 
“Ah, wait!” He turned half-heartedly. 
“Listen, I get it. You don’t want to be bossed around. But honestly, your reputation is shit. That can’t be good for business.” you persuaded. He towered over you, the figure of a Greek giant peeked through the compression top as he lazily watched you. 
“So? Why do you care?” he remarked. 
“I’ll help you. Sponsors, advertisements, whatever you want. You’re good, but you can be so much better. Let’s make money together.” You held your hand out, awaiting a handshake of approval. He merely glanced at your limp wrist. 
“Help? You’re obviously not doing this for free.” 
“Of course not. Give a little, take a little. I don’t do charity cases” you shrugged.  
He groaned, raking his fingers through his thick mane. At the very least, he hadn’t walked away yet. “I'd prefer for my life to be private.” 
“Then I’ll guarantee your privacy.” 
“Really?” he scoffed. “What can you give me besides empty promises?” 
“Anything you desire. Work with me, and I’ll make it happen.” That offer enticed him. No one had been this persistent with him yet, he scared off any manager that dared succor him. It was slightly entertaining, the way you burned ambition in your eyes, you were so easy to read. Most people wouldn’t look directly at him, and here you were, ready to follow him home if that’s what it took. He chuckled, and his massive hand reached for yours. 
You shook hands, and your fates were sealed.  
That was a year ago, and ever since then he’s been a thorn in your side. Nonstop drama and rectifying consumed your life. You didn’t think a man who spoke so little in public could talk so much around you. Whenever you argue—which is a frequent occurrence—his smirk grew wider at your frustration. You weren’t sure why you ever liked him in the first place. He only puts in effort when it comes to sparring, but you’re determined to ameliorate his standing, and in turn, yours.  
The minute you open the doors to the hall, the sound of pummeled sandbags, clanking metal, and sneakers skidding across the floor roars in your ears. Some men are dialed in on abusing the inanimate objects, the rest tense through repetitions of dumbbell curls with a hiss. You're in quick strides, the phone arm's length away from you as the sponsor on the other end screams. Another petty drama surrounding Wriothesley grabs the attention of the internet. Luckily, you have thorough experience remedying this. 
“What are you going to do? You’re fucking with my money!” you hear the faint voice. You bring the phone back to your ear. 
“Don’t I always deal with it? He fights, I make up for the other half. Give me a few hours.” 
“I’m not going to wa-” You hang up at the response. 
You propel the double doors free into a large room with a boxing ring in the center. A group of trainers swarm the perimeter, you can barely see through.  
“Don’t be scared!” one of them taunt towards the sparring partner, who has an unthinkable panic creeping in goosebumps dotting his skin. Each sloppy dodge tilts him more and more off balance against the strikes. Wriothesley has a powerful stature, with his back curving in a way that accentuates the rough muscle shaping his spine. You drone an annoyed sigh at the commotion and push yourself through them.  
“Move it, move!” you yell, before jostling your way to the front of the ring. 
“Wriothesley! Times up.”  He turns his head to the side, unintentionally sparing his partner and glares at you. 
“Two minutes.” 
“No. Now.” you command. He looks up at nothing, as if considering his options if he cusses you out. Then he begrudgingly drops the gloves and pulls himself under the ropes. The group disperses from the lack of action and he’s mere inches from you now. Sometimes you forget how to breathe in his half-naked presence.  
“What the fuck is your problem?” He mumbles while drying his head with a towel. His colossal forearms are raised over his head, highlighting the happy trail thick down his abdomen and tufts of hair on his armpits.  
“You. How many times do I have to tell you not to train during recovery?” you seethe. 
“Damn. Must’ve slipped my mind.” He doesn’t sound convincing in the slightest. 
“Well then, I’ll be sure to remind you hourly.” 
“Nah, I’m good. Hearing you once a day is enough.” He tosses the towel to you like his dutiful servant and grabs his water bottle. The liquid drips down his chin and on his shorts, hanging below his v-line. 
Your eyebrow twitches from withheld vexation. “If you don’t want to hear me twice, I suggest you do what I tell you. We need to talk.” A heavy sigh leaves him as he stretches, and he passes you the water bottle. If you had the strength to collapse the bottle with one hand, you would. “Lead the way” he goads. 
Wriothesley follows you through the backdoor of the gym to a secluded alleyway. When you get there, he immediately pulls out a cigarette you didn’t know he had. You were aware he smokes occasionally, but seeing it physically coaxed a strange worry in your gut. You twist your phone to him, to display evidence of him instigating an argument with Childe on social media. He reads in silence, briefly laughing at the recollection of his own comebacks, then lights the cigarette. 
“What’s this? Didn’t I say keep a low profile?” you reprimand. 
He drags in a deep breath of nicotine, and you eye the foul scent with distaste. He blows it above your unhappy face. “Calm down. Once a month thing. That fucker's testing me.” 
“This can’t happen again, Wriothesley.” He ignores you to continue his mumbling. “I should break his neck like a twig. He’s lucky he didn’t say that shit to my face, fucking punk.” he grouses. You're struggling to gather your thoughts, the cigarette compacted between his thick fingers irritates you. 
“We all appreciate your restraint, however-” you get closer, and yank the stick out his hand. 
 “No-!” Before he can finish, you promptly smudge it underneath your shoe. You aren’t sure how he’d react, but you didn’t expect him to sulk like a puppy. 
“You aren’t doing this shit while I’m here.” 
“Oh my god” he pouts, throwing his hands into his face and pulling them down.  
“You’re lucky I don’t report it to the doctor. None of this, ever again.” 
“Fuck, alright just...” he lets out a defeated sigh. “What do you want me to do about it? Apologize publicly?” You need him to do nothing; neither agency wants controversy, and it’d most likely be swept under the rug in just a couple days. You point his water bottle to him. 
“Nope, I’ll handle it. Just sit there and be pretty.” you reassure. He leans down to your height with a sweet smile and even sweeter gaze. 
“I do that well, don’t I?” he quips. 
“You manage.” He latches onto the water bottle, and drinks from it in your hand while looking at you. A soft heat envelops you beyond words that never reach your lips. 
“Listen to what I’m saying. Low. Profile.” Wriothesley comes up from thirst, dragging his tongue along the straw to the top, and licks his blushed lips. He delights in your flustered reaction. 
“Low. Profile.” he repeats in a sarcastic drawl. 
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Later in the week, you receive a call in your office. It was fairly busy today, with coworkers constantly “checking in”, more so to see Wriothesley sitting across from you. He had no reason to be here, and you were surprised at his arrival. Be it boredom or a certain longing, a dull swell pulsed in his chest once he saw your overworked smile. 
“Hello, this is (Y/N) of Boxe Association. May I know who I’m speaking with?” Wriothesley’s ears perk up at your sudden professionalism, and he mimics your cadence. 
“Good afternoon, it’s Isadora.” Isadora was an event coordinator you previously worked with before your controversy. You understood that she stopped communicating to protect her business, but the pain lingered. You twirl the phone cord around your fingers, and meet eyes with Wriothesley, who’s laid back in the chair, his arms behind his head. 
“Oh. Hey, it’s been a while.” you say. You turn your swivel chair away from him to continue the conversation. His eyebrow twitches slightly with an unconscious scowl, and he walks towards your chair. 
“It has. I’m calling because I have a proposition that might interest you. I believe a meet and greet would be appropriate for your client. A large chunk of his fanbase are young adult women, however, he’s also popular with children.” He spins the chair around with a firm hand and presses his cheek against the phone. 
“That’s true.” You side eye him, and without skipping a beat, mush his nosey face away. His hot breath on your digits makes your skin tingle. 
“Who is that” he mumbles. You'd never seen Wriothesley interact with children, and you have every reason to be hesitant. 
“Hmm...any positive activity with children is good publicity. I’ll consider it. I’ll let you know by tonight.” The second you hang up, you release his face. 
“Why are you being annoying-” 
“Who were you talking to” he chides.  
“Isadora. She’s an event coordinator.” His clenched jaw unwinds. “She wants to do a meet and greet with you and a few kids. If we go through with this, I’ll have a camera crew and some reporters there. It’ll be good for your image.” 
“Okay.” he agrees. That was quick.  
“...Are you sure? Kids are loud and obnoxious a lot of the time.” 
“So? Fine by me. I can teach them how to fight.” Your skin crawls at the thought of Wriothesley launching a child through a wall. “That won’t be necessary.” 
“It’ll be fun.” The more he assures you, the more uneasy you feel. 
“Wriothesley, I’m serious. Don’t screw this up” you plead. He holds his pinky out. “I won't.” His loose interpretation of promises was dubious at best, but you had no other options, and this might be your only opening. You curl to his word. 
After parleying the finer details, you broadcast a raffle for young fans to meet Wriothesley. The traffic to the website was overwhelming, and you quickly began sorting out tickets for the favored winners. 
 Fortunately, the next couple of weeks were par for the course. 
It’s the night before the event, and you’re getting ready for bed. You sit at your desk in a big T-shirt and do your daily review of personal data. As you're scrolling through and identifying what needs improvement, you get a notification on your phone. 
“Breaking News: Boxer Bar Fight!” Curious, you open the tab to a video. It makes your breath stall, sweating frantically. You can’t think clearly, and your shaky hands can barely increase the volume. Unidentifiable noises and wobbly camerawork made it impossible to catch anything besides those familiar inky black strands, throwing punches in a drunken stupor at a defenseless man. Your previous conundrum flashes through your memory in a horrific stop-motion; the duping smile on his face. 
No. It’s happening all over again. Why is he at a bar? You messaged him before he went to bed. He never goes to bars. Why now, the night before the event? It’s late, he doesn’t go anywhere without telling you. 
He promised. 
None of it made sense as you threw on any sweatpants in your drawer and ran out the door. You can’t wait until morning. Disaster punctures and tears any rational decision you contemplate. Shouting silently within your mind, a crashing rage—or sadness—boils in your nervous stomach. You’re tunnel vision in a taxi on the way to his address. 
When you get there, you bang on the door with a fury that vibrates throughout the archway. His home is extravagant, with two cars and an expansive driveway. You bang again. 
“Wriothesley!” He finally opens the door. He’s still half asleep, pajama pants low on his waist, groggily leaning against the arch.  
“(Y/N)? Uh, what’s up?” He slurs in a deep slumbering voice through heavy eyelids. You barge in without saying anything. “Make yourself at home, I guess.” 
The interior is just as opulent as the exterior, it almost looks untouched. Every corner has a case or shelf stacked with ornate trophies and medals of excellence. It was the home of someone who achieved peak perfection and reveled in it. He follows you to his living room, bewildered at your furious expression. You play the video in front of him, and he watches with that same puzzled attitude that makes you angrier. You try taking deep breaths to compose yourself, but they halt shallowly. 
“What the fuck is this?” you accuse. 
“What? I don’t know.”  “Like hell you don’t know, this shit is on every homepage. Are you serious?”  
The cranky boxer pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. You show up at his house, and it’s to badger him about a rumor. Your temperament only heats the smoldering ember fueled by incessant claims. He covers his mouth, physically stopping the involuntary response. 
“Okay” he says, and blurts a facetious chuckle. Your heart thumps in your chest and ears.  
“Oh, It’s a fucking joke? I bust my ass to save your career and you’re laughing?” you snap, voice increasing in volume until it reaches a broken peak. He returns with the same energy. 
“When did I ask you to fix anything? Did you ever think that maybe I don’t fucking need you-” 
“You can barely control your smoking habits you pompous ass-” 
“I would if you didn’t nag me all the time. Whining and complaining, it’s fucking annoying!” he yells. Neither of you meant the words spilling out the bubbling surface, but your tongues were solely seasoned with the next spiteful jab. 
“Yes, whining! Because all you need to do is be on the straight and narrow, but you take nothing seriously, Wriothesley, and that’s exactly why-” 
“Exactly why what? Why your career went to shit so you’re piggybacking off mine?”  
Your battle stops. You can’t find the words to rebuttal. All the opinions of your colleagues, the media, Wriothesley, and yourself coagulate into a lump that fills the tightening throat. Pride comforts tears brimming your eyes. 
He pauses, as though he came to reality. An apology attempts to form on his lips, but it never manifests. “(Y/N), I didn’t-” 
“See you in the morning” you choked. You walk to the door, and he reaches out to the infinite space thick between you two.  
You didn’t sleep the entire night. It’s morning, and you’re exhausted. You consistently replayed the quarrel in your head through the taxi ride home, and when you strived for rest, it plagued your mind. Your coffee is untouched during your morning routine, a movement comparable to zombies. You don’t bother to confirm if Wriothesely is at the building—either way you owe it to the event holders to be there. 
You arrive just before the children file into the training room. Thankfully, Wriothesley is there in the center. Live cameras from reporters and parents border the walls; if something were to occur, it would be irreversible. Your head suddenly hurts. 
Perhaps playing it up for his reputation, the smile stretched across his face is a sunny warmth you’ve never seen from him. He waves to them, and they erupt with screams. To your astonishment, he gets on his knees to be eye level with them. They all jump into his arms at once, and he topples over onto the mat.  
And he’s laughing. This grumpy asshole fighter is laughing. A hearty, genuine laugh as he wraps his sturdy arms around all of them and picks them up at once. He whirls them around and they orchestrate high-pitched giggles. “Ready to have some fun?” he chortles. They say yes to varying degrees of excitement, and the meet and greet proceeds. 
You can’t help but smile when he frolics with the kids. They chase him with boxing gloves, he pretends to fall dramatically. Dogpiling him, he lets out a shrill scream of defeat. He manages to work in proper defense techniques while they jump him like a test dummy. He tosses each kid in the air whenever they ask, and never tells them no. You receive another call from Isadora amid your admiration, and you step outside. 
“Hey! Good news, these views are off the charts and the internet is really in his favor right now” she congratulates.  
“That’s great...what about the video from last night? Did you see it?” you ask. 
“Video...oh, that! Don’t worry, it’s confirmed fake.” What? Oh no. Immediate regret stirs in your blood, and you force the phone away to catch your breath. You feel utterly stupid. 
“Hello?” You quickly bring the phone back to your ear. “Yea, sorry. I have to go; I’ll call you later.” you insist. You can’t facepalm any harder. You make your way back to the training room, where the kids decorate his gloves with iridescent stickers. Wriothesley occasionally looks at you, but you can’t bear to show your guilty face. 
When the event is over, you both make sure to hug every child on the way out and thank the parent for coming. You’re sorting through mountains of requests people made to see Wriothesley again, and you mute your phone over the influx of emails. Peeking at the broadcast, under the footage in bold letters:  
“(Y/N) Back from the Dead?”  
It wasn’t the most flattering title, but it proved that public perception was salvageable. You emit a sigh of relief, for you and Wriothesley. As you’re packing your things to exit, he blocks the door with his body. 
“Can we talk?” You were dreading this discussion, but agreed, nonetheless. The ride to his home is silent, you grapple with a proper apology. 
You lean against the kitchen bar, while he’s laxing on the couch. Sleep deprivation torments you, causes you to wander as you fill in papers from sponsors. You can’t see the way Wriothesley steals glances at your slack figure curving to the marble. He eventually spoke.  
“So, um.” 
“I’m sorry, I forgot to tell you. You did a good job today Wriothesley, you should be proud.” You flash a meek smile. He fumbles with his thumbs uncomfortably. 
“I am. Aren’t I the best?” he boasts. 
“You are” you say. The lack of sleep beckons you to a spur of honesty as you scribble. “You have stunning form, perfect accuracy, and immeasurable talent. Not just anyone can do that.” you return. He gazes at you, that dull swell pumping in his veins again. The cozy radiance of lights brightens your tired eyes. 
“You’re a big fan, huh?” he chuckles.  
“Of course, I used to watch you in college. I had a major crush on you” you snort. “Everything you are is amazing, but you know this. So cut it out.” He sits on the armrest, swallowing your confessions. The room is entirely too hot, he needs alleviation—he needs you. 
“Sorry. For what I said.” 
“Forget it. It's my fault, I was careless. I apologize.” you admit. 
“You know I didn’t do it, right?” 
“I know.” 
“I didn’t.” 
“I know.” you reassure.  
“What if some other bullshit controversy comes out. Then what?” You stop writing to give him your full attention. 
“Then, I’ll trust you. We’ve gotten this far. Even if no one else does, even if for some reason I lose my job and I’m not your manager anymore, I’ll trust you, Wriothesley.” you reveal. He doesn’t move. Wriothesley knew he wasn’t deserving of trust, and he’d made a plethora of mistakes throughout your arrangement. You had every right to leave him long ago. Nobody gave him the time of day or cared for his wellbeing like you did, but he couldn’t reciprocate. Even so, here he kneels, at the feet of an angel that shows him undying mercy. 
Wriothesley stalks at you, but you remain. He looms over you, pinning you to the counter with both arms, inches from your face. It isn’t a threatening force, but one that begs for confirmation. That slated storm searches for a specific craving, you feel his chest rising and falling laden with yours. 
“You’re too close” you quiver. The bitter musk and vanilla enveloping your senses makes you foggy, it lingers through the whole house. 
“Tell me to leave.” His mouth slants to you, and he waits expectingly. You ogle his features, the scratches of a warrior celebrated across his hardy torso. His hair brushes against your forehead, imperfect and uniquely beautiful. Why were you mad, again?
“Tell me to back off, (Y/N)” he pleads. The pads of your fingers lightly caress his ear, then his jaw. 
“Please” he whispers. Your thumb grazes his bottom lip, and he succumbs to the urge. 
You collide fervently, lips coated in definitive desire. Dancing with rough, bruising kisses that don’t make space for air. It smears on your face, dips down your neck and swiftly returns to your lonely mouth. The pressure of the counter bar burns across your lower back from his weight, but those mind-numbing kisses soften any injury. You bite his lip when he pulls away, and he groans. Suddenly, he lifts you effortlessly with his hands on your ass, and you clash teeth and tongue in a passionate challenge. He demands entry, and you moan into the wet mass intertwining through sloppy kisses. It explores your mouth, sending throbs to your nerves and subdues any control you have left. Your arms are wrapped around his neck, but you yearn for deeper contact. He licks up the organ, and spots moist, hungry kisses on your jaw. You both take a fleeting breath before converging again. You find passage in his hair and suck staining rose-colored marks on his neck while he carries you to the bedroom. 
“You’ve been waiting for this, hm? Slutty groupie” Wriothesley moans. You drag kisses along the shell of his ear. He tosses you onto the fluffy bedding and haphazardly strips to his underwear. The wide mirror opposite his bed gives you a glimpse of his thighs and shapely bottom hugging the briefs. You’re supposed to be undressing, but that thronging bulge made for a titan makes you nervous for what’s to come. He palms the erection to soothe the ache and climbs over you. He’s somewhat gentle, careful with the bulk of his body as he cradles your face for more kisses. The way he looks at you, a covet softness or misted lust tantalizing the wetness pooling in your panties. He moves to your neck, French kissing down your throat and on your collarbone. You feel like a virgin again, heart racing from every graze of his fingers and lips. His calloused digits grope the plush fat of your thighs, and gradually reach the hem of your skirt. You snake your hands over his pecs and abs and read the muscles. Moaning into each other's mouths, indulging every part of your bodies as you’ve wanted to do for months. He pulls your skirt off and you hold your button-down over your exposed panties. Heat spreads in your body, and he amuses at your sudden bashfulness. 
“Oh…you’re shy?” he teases, before popping the buttons off with a brutal rip. “Wrio!” you yelp. That’s the first time you called Wriothesley a nickname; he must’ve died and went to heaven. The lace gift wrapped around your breasts taunts him, and he buries his face immediately. He nips the sensitive skin and snaps the clasp off. “Cute. Need to feel you” he husks. He twirls the bud in his mouth, while manipulating the other between his girthy fingers. Alternating among loving hickies and harsh tugs of his teeth on your nipple. You whine, and his laugh tickles your raw skin. He flips over on his back and steadies you on top of him. Discards the rest of your top, and let’s out a shaky groan.  
“You’ve never been this speechless” he says. You smile and kiss his puffy lips, your hands kneading his chest. “You’re so pretty” you coo. He huffs while rubbing circles on your waist, eyeing your inner thighs covered in juices.  
“Then come fuck my pretty face.” He slips under the waistband and tweaks the fabric, but you grip his wrists. “Wait! Let me shower first- “ 
“You said you'd give me anything I desire, remember that? Keep your promise." He yanks the thin material down your legs in your weak clutches, trailing a string of drool that sticks to your labia. “C’mere” he grunts and lifts you towards his face. Your thighs are soft on either side of him, and you still in his grasp. He lolls his tongue out, but you’re reluctant to fully sit. “I’m heavy” you murmur.  
“Shut up.” He embraces your body, and you have no choice but to settle in his warmth. He keeps you flush with his flat tongue, swiping up and down the squishy flesh molding to his mouth. You writhe in his grasp, but he continues to lap at your clit with a starving lust. Wriothesely soaks in your velvet skin and perfumed essence dribbling down his chin. He doesn’t come up for air, and your brain is mush over him, his lips slurping your quivering cunt. A buzzing intensity courses through your twitching stomach. You rut your hips against his mouth, and he maintains his position while you use him. You’re grinding on his tongue, absent-mindedly biting your lips and mewling endlessly as you bring yourself closer to climax. He hums while sucking the nub and the vibrations make you cry out.  
“Wrio, ‘m coming” you whine. You hump his mouth until you come undone in a pulsating finish. His hands restrain you, greedily devouring the newly found honey as it pours out. You ride it through while he curls the tip of his tongue at your opening. Without warning, you feel the pink muscle push in your recovering vulva. “S-Shit, Wrio” you whimper, trembling on him as he drives inside. He seizes the back of your thighs and begins to bounce you up and down the mushy appendage slowly stretching you. The sensation is overwhelming, his nose skims your oversensitive clit each time you drop, and you sob. Wriothesley moves faster, your hands entangle in his hair. You babble please’s repeatedly, gazing sensually at each other as the coil winds in your gut. More, more. Then it snaps, an abrupt shock, clenching on his tongue as you cream. He raises your lower half; the wetness collecting in your convulsing heat makes his cock strain more than it already suffered.  
“Such a cute slut” Wriothesley husks. Your numb legs can’t navigate on their own, so he places you on your stomach. “We’re not done.” He springs his throbbing length free. The veins are consistent, prominent up his shaft to the angry red crown—9 inches begging to be inside you. Fresh precome trickles down his tip and he sighs at the bloated pain in his hefty balls. You arch your back, presenting yourself to his awaiting size. When he doesn’t enter you turn to him impatiently and he smirks. 
“Put it in” you whine. Wriothesley spreads your backside, and watches you clench around the ghost of him. He glazes himself with your slick, and moans from the feeling of your puffy lips cuddling his cock. “It’s not every day a fan gets to sleep with me. Be grateful.” he teases. He pumps through your squashed thighs, the head prodding your nub while he forces your chest flush with the bed. After he thoroughly coats himself, he nudges the bulbous tip to your entrance. 
Wriothesley sinks into your sex. You’re gripping him like a vice despite the searing soreness of your body accommodating the scale. The fevered sleeve nearly makes him crash to the hilt, but he stutters gradually to relieve your discomfort. He hits the base and shudders. You feel unbelievably stuffed, as if it’s squirming in your cervix. Then he starts at a savage pace. He’s using you like a flesh-light, balls smacking your overwhelmed tender nub with a carnal impulse. His moans spill uncontrollably as he watches your rippling ass and viscous webs blend together, clinging to his cock and forming a cloudy froth at the base. Your knuckles turn white on the sheets; you can’t think or feel anything that isn’t him, core surging with intense want. 
“Fuck, you’re so tight, gonna snap my dick off. Ah- gonna make sure you can’t walk t-tomorrow. Then- hah- then you won’t be able to find anyone who fucks you like this, who makes you come like this.” He’s rambling and stuttering, completely incoherent the closer he gets. He glances at the mirror, then at you. You feel your hair jerked back by his massive hand, and lock eyes with Wriothesley in his drunken haze. “Stop, it’s embarrassing!” you slur. You’re both sheened with sweat, disheveled bodies satiating the hunger in any way you can. 
“Shh, you hear that?” The squelching slam of passion echoes in the room, sopping down your leg through his pummeling thrusts. Your back bends unnaturally as though it were folded in half. “You’re so fucking hot, so needy for me.” His veins adorn your walls, you start to tear up from the mixture of pleasure and pain. He notices your tears and holds you up so that your back is flush with his chest. 
“It hurts?” he questions, stalling his movement. You feel him twitch. “No, feels s’good Wrio. More” you mewl. He chuckles, and gently wraps his hand around your throat before pumping again.  
“Too good? Am I the best you’ve ever had? Say it.” He moves faster, free hand rubbing your clit. Your knees buckle and eyes roll back to your skull, he takes in the scene of your convulsing figure in the mirror. “S’best I’ve ever had, please ‘m so close!” you rasp, matching the rhythm of his thrusts. He chases his high, panting animalistically in your ear.  
“Shit- look how desperate you are. Want me to come inside? Y-yea, I bet you fucking do”
“‘M coming!” you babble.
“Good. Make a mess.” he commands. Fire trails up your limbs, and you tighten before falling apart. Fluttering around him, taking him deeper while you come on his sack. Wriothesley pursues his sputtering hips, spurting thick globs that paint you white. He whimpers as you milk his spasming length dry and presses tired kisses along your shoulder blade. When he comes down from his apex, he turns you over on your back. It’s hard for him to not be proud of your boneless existence sprawled on his bed. You’re both breathing hard in silence, and he leaves for a couple minutes. You’re stunned when he returns with a damp rag to clean you up, and some dark substance in a mug.
You find the strength to sit up while he wipes your lower areas. “Where are my clothes?”
“...For what?”  he mumbles.
“To leave?” It seemed like common sense to you—boxers usually don’t go for long-term relationships, and so you assumed it to be a one-night stand. You dip over the edge of the bed and locate your skirt, but Wriothesely hops up and snatches it before you can. “I’ll put it in the wash. Relax.” 
“I didn’t know you were so hospitable. Do you do this for every girl?” you tease. He gets visibly upset, and shoves the cup from the dresser in your hands. “Don’t piss me off. Now, drink. I’ll order food.” 
Multicolored sunset flaking through the sheer curtains frames his stature while he’s on the phone. You sip the tea, it’s a vile grainy taste. For a moment you imagine what life could be like with him by your side—poor quality tea and an awful temper. In your pleasant aftermath, it doesn’t seem bad at all.
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tqmies · 7 months
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Love Guard | Lee Chan
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Description. Lifeguard Lee Chan is a pain in your ass, and you swear he's only picked up this job to ogle at girls in bikinis. Little did you know, the only girl he wants to look at is you — not that you'd ever let him tell you that though — Especially now that you're convinced he's in love with your co-worker.
Pairing. Lifeguard!Lee Chan x Lifeguard! Fem Reader
Warnings. Curse words, (Pretend) Drowning, Karina attempts to meddle, Fluff, Chan's so whipped, Swimming, E2L (One sided)
Word count. 9.2k (Oops?)
Note: Summer has been over but I couldn't help myself! Welcome to my first Seventeen fic! Not 100% sure if I like this one but feedback is always appreciated!
"Two weeks." You repeat to yourself, attempting to calm yourself by digging your fingers into the squishy material of the rescue tube you have strapped on. Only two weeks left until the local waterpark is closed for the year — and until you have to look for another job — but the point remains a positive one.
In exactly two weeks from now, you will be freed from your own personal hell in human form, otherwise known as Lee Chan. Even when he's not stationed at the same ride as you, he's always finding his way over in your general proximity, just like he is now.
He's chatting up a few girls who look gorgeous in their tight fighting bikini sets, and you just about scoff at how obvious he is. You and Karina are set at the wave pool right now, and you feel bad for whatever station Chan is supposed to be manning. Does he ever do his job?
Karina quirks her head, her long ponytail falling to her side. "I heard he was supposed to be with the flow rider."
Ah yes the flow rider, the stationary surfing machine that tiny children and older adults alike swear they can do. You've only had to operate it once, and let's just say you complained so much you never had to do it again. Just this once, you can understand why he wandered over to the other side of the park.
"Vernon probably took over and kicked him out." You shrug, knowing how serious the older male takes his job.
"I hope so." Your friend giggles, patting your shoulder as she walks away. You notice her hand on the whistle, she must've spotted a few kids running again, nothing out of the ordinary.
A few feet away, Chan is just about whining into these poor girls ears. He smirks at them. “Is she looking this way?”
The girl on his left — whose name Chan hasn't caught — glances over her shoulder and then turns back. “She’s not, she’s watching the pool.”
One of the other girls snorts. “Looks like she’s doing her job.”
"That makes one of us." Chan slumps dramatically before an idea pops into his head. (The girls swear they could see a lightbulb above his head in that moment).
Chan swivels into the water after he stood to his feet, the others awaiting his revelation. "Okay, I'm going to need one of you to pretend you're drowning."
"Drowning?!" The blonde girl's jaw drops. Chan doesn't see why he has to explain it though. They would simply pretend they were drowning, he'd jump in all heroic like, and save them. And in the process, you'd notice and commend him for being so cool.
Chan was a genius, he nodded to himself.
So after explaining the plan to girl's that he had just met today, well about twenty minutes ago, he's ready to get this show on the road. He's lucky the girls felt bad for him after he gave the typical sob story on how his crush hated him. Otherwise, they probably wouldn't have agreed.
The blonde girl submerges herself into the water, on purpose, as Chan prepares to take action. But first, he had to take his shirt off. Oh don't act so shocked, he's literally trying to get your attention! He's not above showing a little skin!
You don't even notice though, too preoccupied with watching some children jump on each other. You approach them and politely tell them to not attempt to kill each other under the water. You didn't even think that needs to be said but, this job surprised you every day.
However, the minute you turn around, you notice some arm's flailing around in the water. It was the area where Chan was just standing, but he's nowhere to be found now. Shit! You were going to have to act, and fast!
So you dive into the water, peeling your eyes open in the chlorine to find the girl. You reach her in record time, using your rescue buoy to grab her and pull her out. You lay her on the concrete, shaking her shoulders and gaining no response.
"Someone get me an AED!" You shout, preparing to begin CPR. Karina rushes to your side, asking any bystanders if they knew what happened and trying to gain more information about the situation. Thank goodness for her.
A crowd begins to form around you as you recall the CPR process in your head, ready to begin when you're abruptly shoved out of the way.
"I got it!" Chan explains, seemingly appearing out of nowhere. You're too stunned to reply so you just let him take the lead, watching his next moves in silence.
He barely starts to push on her chest when her eyes shoot open, and she begins coughing up imaginary water. You're a bit suspicious, but this was your first time dealing with an unconscious victim, guess you'd just been lucky so far.
She sits up as she starts talking, waving her hands around. "Don't call 9-1-1 or anything! I'm fine!"
Karina leans forward. "Are you sure?"
"Yes!" The girl replies, before easily standing to her feet as she rushes out, her friends following behind her. They didn't even have their shoes on?
Chan watches them in defeat as you and Karina silently gape at each other. The girl had run away steadily, no signs of being disoriented for someone who had just been unconscious. It did all happen so fast though, maybe you weren't seeing things right.
Karina is the first to stand. "What just happened?"
You shake your head, your now wet hair dripping on you. "I don't even know."
Chan doesn't look as confused as you two though, but never mind that, you had a bone to pick with him first.
"And where the hell were you?"
Chan barely registers you speaking to him, as he's mentally recounting how his plan went awry. "I was getting my CPR keychain."
You want to bang your head against the ground. "You didn't have it on you?"
Hey, give him a break. He's human too! He forgets things sometimes, it can't be that bad! However, if he was going to convincingly look like he was saving the girl earlier, he had to have his keychain on him. Which is why he ran off looking for it...
"I left it in my locker." He mutters, rubbing the back of his neck.
"God, just put a shirt on Lee." You stand to your feet. "And please do us all a favor and stay in your station."
"So you acknowledge that you checked me out?"
You deadpan. "I acknowledge that you make my job harder because an old woman almost slipped on the shirt you threw off!"
Had he really thrown his shirt? He didn't even notice, your wording had to be a bit exaggerated.
You cross your arms as you head back to the other side of the pool, back into your comfy life guard chair. And preferably, as far away from Lee Chan as possible.
..
"Then he shows up like some fucking hero and interferes with me doing my job!" You state sarcastically, slipping your sweatshirt on as you stand by your locker. Screwing the cap back onto your water bottle, you sigh.
Minghao, your close friend who you never managed to get stationed with, just listens in mild amusement. "But he saved the girl, right?"
You shake your head as you gather your things. "I don't know if you could call it saving. It was weird, she just up and ran off."
Minghao giggles. "Are you sure she was drowning?"
"If I didn't know any better, I'd say no." You admit, the jingling of a lanyard behind you catching your attention.
"Okay, I'm heading out." Karina says as she holds her bag over her shoulders. Your brain is too busy trying to configure how she looks so cute after a full day at work. You were sure you looked as worn-out as you felt.
"MIngyu's still around here somewhere. And Seungkwan and Chan are still in the back, I saw them fighting with the pool nets." Karina continues, referring to the long wands used to skim the pools for bugs and dirt. Or worse, fecal matter.
Thankfully, that's usually not the case. Nevertheless, you're grateful that wasn't your job today. You did have to lock up though, meaning that you had to get the aforementioned boys up and out.
"I'll get Minghao to yell at them." You nod, and Minghao just laughs.
Back at the pool, Chan is currently shuffling his brain for another plan, one that won't fail this time. Honestly, it probably made you more angry at him than anything. "I have two weeks Kwan."
Seungkwan rolls his eyes. "Oh God."
"Two weeks to make her mine." Chan repeats, rubbing his eyes.
"You're delusional." His friend replies, picking up his own pool stick and heading to the main area. "Why don't you start with something simple, like driving her home first."
Chan perks up at that. "Wait, that's actually a pretty good idea!"
"Actually?" Seungkwan starts, but Chan is already racing past him, pool cleaning long forgotten. Though the older male still shouts after him. "I always have great ideas!"
Chan mentally prepares himself on the way there, stopping by one of the outside mirrors in the kids splash area to check his hair. Looking good, he thought.
"Hey," Chan speaks, approaching you and Minghao as he tries not to give the latter a death stare. He could never figure out what kind of relationship the two of you had, and that made him uneasy. Not that you owed him an explanation or anything, but it'd be nice to get some clarification.
All he knew was that you and Minghao applied for this job together and you'd been friends for a while. Chan also knew you spent your lunch breaks together at the snack bar, courtesy of his friend Mingyu's spying, and he knew he took you home everyday.
But those could all just be friendly gestures, right?
You ignore Chan's presence as you turn to close up your locker, not bothering to acknowledge him. Minghao does though, "You heading home?"
"Yeah, actually." Chan responds, eyes never leaving your figure. He calls out your name, to which you roll your eyes to. "What?"
He stands up straight, slightly puffing his chest out in an attempt to appeal more to you. Was it working? Probably...Not. "Can I drive you home?"
"Not a chance." You shoot down immediately, not a hint of hesitance in your voice. Oh, that was fast. But Chan knew this wasn't gonna be easy after all.
"I'll buy you food on the way." He offers, clinging to his last ounce of self respect before he gets on the floor to start begging. He was not above that when it came to you.
You cross your arms. "Are you insinuating that I can't buy my own food?"
Of course things were going this way, "That's not what I-"
You put a hand up to stop him, smirking. "Because you're right, this stupid job doesn't pay me nearly as much as I'd like."
Chan stays quiet, unsure of what to say next. Luckily, you continue for him, all in a condescending tone though. "Whatever Lee. Even though you're probably doing this just to feel better about yourself for being such an asshole all the time, I'll bite."
Minghao grimaces, had you always been this harsh? Well, he knows the younger male did you piss you off more than usual today. He knows in his rational brain that he probably shouldn't let this happen. But will he? Yeah.
Minghao gently grabs your arm. "Call me when you get home, okay?"
"Of course." You reply, and Chan watches you flash a smile reserved for your friends only. He knows that because never once had you directed that smile at him. This was soon to change, or so help him.
"You can go ahead, I'll get 'Kwan and lock up." Minghao nods and you thank him.
Chan's just about losing his mind though, Minghao was on a nickname basis with Seungkwan? What the hell? Did Seungkwan not know that Minghao was enemy number one ?! He had some words for him later.
Right now though, his main focus was you. Even in the horrible florescent lighting of the locker room, he thought you looked beautiful.
You, on the other hand, were getting the ick from seeing Kim Mingyu walk around with flip flops. That was going to be hard to move on from.
Just to be clear, you really weren't interested in relationships right now. And yes, you and Minghao were just friends, strictly platonic. However, with on slow days, you liked to occupy yourself with staring at Mingyu's prominent muscles. And honestly, who could blame you?
Chan redirects your attention to him. "So, where to?"
You roll your eyes. "You were the one who invited me out, and you don't know where we're going?"
He looks down. "McDonalds?"
So that's how you two end up in the drive-thru of the famous golden arches. Chan has a million thoughts running through his head, the main one being how he managed to get you in his car, willingly!
In another universe, Chan imagined that this would be your first date. He'd make you laugh, hold your hand, and maybe even get a kiss at the end of the night.
"Should I get a Coke or a Sprite?" You speak to yourself, pulling Chan out of his thoughts.
He straightens his posture. "Oh you should-"
"I wasn't actually asking." You roll your eyes, already mentally having decided in your head.
Chan shuts his mouth.
"You know, I'm really interested in hearing why you invited me out of a sudden." You say, leaning your head against his car window.
Chan's scrambling for the words. "I just wanted to talk."
"About?"
Chan breathes in, here goes nothing. "Well, we only have a few weeks left working at the park, and I kind of.. like this girl."
You narrow your eyes, knowing where this was going. "Oh lord, did you really drag me all this way to try to get me to set you up with Karina?"
Chan's eyes widen. What?! How did you get to that conclusion. Chan barely knew the other girl, much less liked her. In all honesty, he barely even paid her any mind, always too preoccupied with staring at you by her side. He rushes to deny it. "No-"
"You don't have to lie." You speak, rolling your eyes. "You took me here on a bribe so I could put in a good word with you."
Chan's so confused right now.
"Sorry but I think Karina's worth more than whatever you're getting me on the dollar menu." You spout sarcastically. "And anyways, why would I help set her up with you?"
Now, Chan has to speak up, because really? Was he that bad that you couldn't even imagine setting him up with a friend ? He's mildly offended, even if he could care less about her. It's more so that he's utterly infatuated with you, and he can't believe you don't see him as possible boyfriend material. "Huh? What's wrong with me?"
You narrow your eyes. "Well, for starters you're broke, lazy, and irresponsible. Oh, and stupid, immature, full of yourself-"
You were really laying it on thick, and Chan doesn't think he can take anymore stabs at his character without possibly jumping out of his car window. He interrupts, "Anything else?"
"I wasn't even done yet." You stop counting on your fingers. "Point is, you're not good enough for Karina."
He doesn't even care about who you're talking about anymore, he throws his hands up. "You don't even know that, you've never seen me on a date." Because you've never given me a chance, but he only speaks that last part in his head.
"I've seen your everyday character, that says more than enough."
Chans on the verge of ramming the car in front of him in line. "So what kind of guy would be good enough?"
You shrug. "Probably someone like Joshua."
"The manager?" Chan draws back, because were you referring to Karina's taste or yours? He was so lost right now. "He's like way too old."
You click your tongue. "I said someone like him. He's smart, soft-spoke, responsible, and he knows how to deal with conflict."
Chan grips his steering wheel. Yes, Joshua had his life together, but that's because he was older! Was that really what you were into? Chan might as well throw in the towel now. "It sounds like you want someone like Joshua."
"Maybe, I don't know."" You cross your arms in thought. "Well, he's kind of boring, can't be much fun dating someone like that."
So there is a drawback to perfectly stunning men like Joshua, or was he just saying that to make himself feel better? He'd have to ask Seungkwan for advice tomorrow. "Well-"
"Whenever you're ready." A voice takes over through the intercom. Chan hadn't realized he had already pulled up this far.
He didn't even know what he wanted, in fact this whole conversation made his stomach turn. Was he even hungry anymore?
However, you knew exactly what you wanted. But Chan's silent by the intercom so you do the only feasible thing to do, you unbuckle your seatbelt and lean over him. Climbing past the center console, you throw your body halfway out of the window and start reciting your order.
Unbeknownst to you, the male in the car with you was losing his mind. Why were you so close to him? Why did you smell so good? Why was your body basically on top of his (You aren't touching at all)? And Why did this feel so intimate?
You turn to him, still in the same position. "What do you want?"
Chan's face is red, and he's trying his best to stay cool, avoiding eye contact. "A burger."
"Which one?"
Poor guy can't think straight. "The normal one?"
You sigh, turning back towards the speaker. "And a Big Mac."
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"I think Chan likes you." You speak, seeking refuge from the scorching hot summer sun under the tiny roof peeking out from the food stand.
Karina sips on her slushie, that's halfway melted, and grimaces. "No way."
You offer a tight lipped smile before shooting her glare. "Don't give me that look! Who wouldn't like you?"
Karina laughs. "It's not that I don't think he'd like me, it's that he doesn't."
"And how are you so sure?" You ask, adjusting the straw on your own slushie.
"Um, okay one, he's never held a conversation with me for longer than two minutes." She starts, placing her cup on the counter. Trying her best to stop the syrup from getting her hands all sticky.
You digress though. "That's because you make him nervous!"
"Two, we barely know each other."
"You haven't given him a chance." You tease, unaware of prying ears listening to your conversation. Give you a break though, honestly, it was too hot for all of this.
"Where did you even get this idea from?" She inquires in disbelief.
"Last night when he took me to McDonalds."
Karina's jaw goes slack. "You voluntarily went somewhere with him outside of work?"
Guess you had forgotten to mention that, oops. "He bribed me with food."
She narrows her eyes, suspicious but moving on anyways. "And then he told you he liked me?"
"No," You answer truthfully. "But he didn't deny it."
Karina shakes her head. "I think you're just desperate for some cute lifeguard-love-story to shake things up around here, and it's not going to work on me."
You giggle. "Whatever you say."
"You could have your own story if you just asked out Minghao already." She suggests meekly, despite knowing your constant insistence that there was nothing going on between you two.
"That's gross, I think I just threw up in my mouth."
"Yeah, I know." She teases before lowering her voice so only you can hear, and her eyes dart over to Mingyu making a hot dog. "But you could finally strike something up with mister beef cake over here."
You roll your eyes. "He's too hot for me, half the park wants him."
"He gives you free food."
You hush your friend. "He gives everyone free food!"
"You win this battle." Karina says, trashing her finished cherry drink. "But the war is far from over."
"Get back to your post, Yoo." You sigh, cleaning up the mess your melting treats made with a few napkins and discarding them.
Mingyu comes back to the front where you are after noticing you were alone, "Going back?"
You groan. "Unfortunately my break is over."
He offers a small chuckle, and all you think about is how good he looks. Especially since he's donning a sleeveless red shirt, matching the parks general colors, and you can see his arms in their full glory. No wonder you'd heard girls in passing giggle about how they wanted to take a bite out of the food stand guy, you saw the appeal.
Why couldn't he be a lifeguard? Just saying, it would be nice to see him without a pesky shirt sometimes. Oh you were so embarrassing.
"Have you seen Hao? I wanted to talk to him about something?" The male inquires but you shake your head.
"He called in today," You stand. "Said he felt sick, or some other kind of lie."
"He's not sick?"
"Judging by his Instagram stories on a boat?" You quirk your head. "I'd say no."
MIngyu laughs at your humor, and you're flashing that pretty smile again, and Mingyu's feeding right into it. Are you two flirting?!
Chan hates it!
Not your smile, no he could never hate your smile. But he hates how he's never once gotten to see it aimed at him. Yet here you were, chatting it up with Mingyu? Did the nuggets he bought you last night mean nothing? He thought they were a great symbol of his undying love for you!
Vernon looks unimpressed. "Stare at him any longer and you might just burn a hole through him."
Chan narrows. "That's the plan"
Vernon's bored. "Okay, this is getting weird."
"I just don't get it, what does she even see in guys like Joshua? Or Mingyu?" Chan crosses his arms.
"Maybe because they do their job-" Vernon tries to get his station partners attention back.
But Chan's having none of it. "Yeah right, look at Mingyu! He's flirting on duty!"
"He just runs the food stand, in his defense. Half the time isn't he helping you spy on her and Minghao?"
"Well it seems like he's playing for the other team right now, standing there and talking to my girl!"
"Your girl." Vernon repeats, shaking his head in disbelief as he mocks the younger male. "You're ridiculous."
Chan stays rooted in his place. "I can't even believe-"
"Hey, Chan right?" A voice plucks him out of his plotting to kill Mingyu (Okay, maybe killing was extreme, but at the very least he was going to jump him. Eh, that might be a little too much as well, he was still technically Chan's friend. Maybe he could-)
Oh wait, someone was talking to him, and he should probably respond. "Yeah that's me."
"Oh, well I'm Karina." The girl introduces herself as Chan finally gets to take a look at her. He knew who she was, everyone did, but the two had rarely a few words to each other before now, if anything.
He adjusts his sunglasses, eyes barely moving from you and Mingyu. He had to make sure Mingyu didn't try anything. This was a matter of national security! "Nice to meet you, I guess"
"What's up Karina?" Vernon asks, trying to break up this weird tension as he saw how Chan effectively ignored you.
Karina places her hand on her hip. "I'll just be straight forward, someone told me that Chan had a little thing for me, but I know that's not the case, even though she's entirely convinced."
Chan's irritated. "What?"
"I'm not blind, Chan." Karina raises a brow. "I know you have a crush on her."
"Well yeah, could he be more obvious?" Vernon snidely remarks as Chan does his best to ignore his comment.
"So," Chan looks down, slightly dissapointed. "Did you come just to make fun of me?"
"No," She leans forward. "I've decided I'm gonna help you."
"Help?" Chan's taken back as he snaps his head up.
"Help?" Vernon parrots, though he sounds more confused.
She smiles. "Yup"
"Why?"
Karina stares at her perfectly manicured nails. "You're a decent guy. Good looking, nice enough, and I know you're trying your best."
Chan blinks, this was the complete opposite of what you had told him. Karina continues, "But mostly, it's because I can tell you really like her. And I think she deserves someone that'll treat her well for once."
"Well give it up," Chan sighs, wiping sweat from his brow. "Mingyu's about to propose to her anyways."
"Mingyu's not doing anything," Karina moves her hair. "He been standing there like a dweeb the whole time, completely oblivious to everyone around him."
"And she still likes him more than me."
Your friend glares at the male. "Well this isn't going to work if you're going to be so negative."
"Karina," He turns to her. "Honestly, what's the point? She wants nothing to do with me."
"Because she's blind, she can't see how much you like her."
"So, what should we do?" Vernon pipes in, surprisingly intently following the situation.
"We have to prove to her how much you like her!"
"And how can I do that?"
"Don't worry, I have that part covered."
...
"And then he threw up right next to the trashcan." Jeonghan — one of the new hires — finishes venting to you about one of the kids on the waterslide he was manning.
"Swear there should be some kind of law forbidding kids from eating four hotdogs and then getting on a ride that sends you spinning." You sympathize.
"Or people could just have more common sense." Jeonghan comments, before his eyes drift off somewhere else. "Is that Karina talking to Chan?"
Your eyes widen as you try to follow his line of sight. "What? Where?"
"Over there." Jeonghan points with his head, towards the bathrooms.
Sure enough, leaning on the bricks outside the bathrooms, was your friend talking to Lee Chan. Had he finally gained the courage to talk to her? And oh no, was she actually reciprocating?
"I didn't know they were friends." Jeonghan breaks the silence.
"They're not." You raise a brow. "I think he likes her."
Jeonghan looks at you like you've grown three heads. "You're joking right?"
You shrug, "Why would I be joking?"
"Everyone knows that he-" Your friend stops himself before waving you off. "Never mind, you wouldn't believe me anyways."
"Believe what?"
Jeonghan snickers. "Nothing."
You're eager to press on more about whatever he was talking about but the manager, Joshua, asks if you and Jeonghan can get showered already so you can all head out.
By the bathrooms, Chan's about to start throwing a fit. "She looked over here once!"
Karina pats his shoulder lightly. "We'll get her next time. For now, I'll just have to feed her a great narrative of you until she realizes she wants you for herself."
Chan looks down. "This is hopeless."
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"Holy shit, where is Chan?" Minghao complains, but you show no sympathy as he was seemingly having the time of his life yesterday.
You shrug, adjusting the strap of the bathing suit you had just put on. "Don't know, don't care."
Your friend tsks. "At least we get out early today."
You shake your head. "Doesn't matter, Joshua's forcing us into that work bonding thing."
MInghao groans, resting his forehead against the steel locker. "I forgot about that, what's the point again? We've had plenty of time to bond already."
"It's mandatory if we want that last paycheck." You remind him and he sighs.
He grabs a bottle from his locker and uncaps it. "Can you put sunscreen on me?"
You nod, it was a normal occurrence, and usually no one batted an eye. Even as you rubbed it into his face, too close for it to be considered just friendly, you know it's all platonic.
Chan on the other hand, isn't so sure.
Him and Karina were walking up the gravel path and the scene hits him before he walks into the area. "H-He's rubbing sunscreen on her back!"
Karina tries to calm him. "They do that for each other all the time."
"Then why does it look so romantic!"
"You're overthinking!"
"Seungkwan rubs my sunscreen in! Why don't you do it for her?!"
"I always get here late!" She defends. "Anyways, this isn't about me, we need to get in there!"
You're instantly drawn to Karina and Chan loudly entering, and it seems the two have gotten close over the past few days.
"Hey guys," Minghao greets and they offer him a hello back before opening their lockers.
"Chan," Karina speaks louder than her normal volume as to draw your attention. "Could you help me put on sunscreen? Can't reach my back today."
Chan nods, grabbing the bottle from her hands and slowly helping her rub it in. He wants to make sure you looking too, and how he's one hundred percent sure he can do it better than Minghao can.
"Uh Rina," You speak before you all head out.
"Yes?" She responds, hoping for you to say something about Chan.
"You have a couple white streaks on your back." And you grimace at Chan's poor job of doing something as simple as rubbing sunscreen in. "Do you want me to-"
"No! No," Karina laughs at her outburst. "Um, I'm sure Chan can help me fix it."
You almost flinch.
"Right, Chan?" Your friend grits her teeth so the male could take the hint.
"Oh, right!" He catches on and then vigorously continues to rub the cream into her skin. He's a little too aggressive with it.
"Ow- um, okay!" She lets out. "I think I'm good now."
You stop, "Okay..."
Chan scurries off, and he realizes he actually needs to get his own swim trunks on, and for heavens sake, where is his first aid whistle?!
You two walk away, you picking at your nails as you dread the day ahead. Your friend needs to break the silence. "So, you're staying today?"
"I wish I had a choice." You grovel.
"I feel you."
You catch the time on one of the parks various clocks. "We open in five."
Your partner nods at the reminder, continuing to with you just out of the sight of the boys and any other listeners. "So, what do you think of Chan? Isn't he sweet?"
You're taken aback. "Is this you trying to get my approval?"
"No.."
"Because you could do way better."
She almost stops in her tracks. "What?! But Chan has lots of redeeming qualities."
You feel like this is a prank. "Like?"
"Well he's nice, a good listener, and-"
"Oh, you got it bad." You interrupt.
She's about to start swinging. "No, you know he's not my type."
You frown. "So you're leading him on?"
Karina deadpans. "We're just friends, but all I'm saying is, uh, he's not a bad guy!"
You almost stop walking. "Right..."
She speaks again, trying her best not to seem pushy. "You know, I think the two of you have a lot in common, you could be good friends."
Before you can even respond, someone is yelling your name across the park, and its too early in the morning for that.
Though your face softens when you realize its Mingyu beckoning you over. You tell Karina you'll meet her at your station and separate. She was acting kind of odd anyhow.
"Mingyu," You approach him, the shade now concealing your face as you take a seat on one of the chairs. You try to keep your eyes from wandering, mainly to his exposed arms. "What's up?"
He smiles' bashfully, leaning on the counter. "Well, I've been wanting to ask you this for some time,"
You can sense he's a little nervous, so you nod your head. "What is it?"
"Could I maybe..." He trails again, before closing his eyes in mental preparation. "Have Karina's number?"
You gape like a fish out of water, doing your best to conceal your light disappointment. "K-Karinas number?"
"Well yeah, I'm interested in her. Unless she's seeing someone." He stumbles on his words.
You tilt your head. "Not sure, maybe you should ask Chan."
"Chan?" Mingyu almost laughs. "He doesn't like her like that."
You grimace at that. Had Chan been telling everyone that he didn't like Karina, when clearly he had been acting the opposite? Sure, she didn't like him back but, for him to be saying things like that was a low blow. "Did he tell you that?"
"Huh, what?" Mingyu looks confused. "Well, not directly. Though, It wouldn't make sense because he already likes someone."
You wave him off. "Doesn't matter, either way, you should ask her yourself. I really can't give you her number on my behalf." You explain, feeling kind of bad, but keeping a peppy voice.
"You think she'd give it to me?"
You smile. "You'll never know if you don't try."
Watching, once again, a few feet await is Lee Chan. He's using all his self control not to rip the foam tube in his hands apart, but Vernon brings him back to earth, or more like back to helping him tie up the obstacle course in one of the pools.
Even as he's experiencing red-hot jealously from watching you interact with his friend, he can't help but admire how pretty you were. You somehow managed to make that stupid visor look cute. And trust me, Chan thought no one could make that hat look cute.
If Chan was anyone else, he probably would've given up on his painful crush by now, but Chan wasn't anyone. He's not sure where his liking for you started, maybe it was that first day you joined. Looking all pretty as you stood next to Minghao and introduced yourself. Chan had overheard from Joshua that you had impressive swim skills, and you had a crazy dedication for your job.
It was a few weeks before he even got to interact with you. You were pretty much attached at your friends hip, taking a minute to warm up to the others. You had gotten partnered with Karina for a ride once and she helped you get along with the rest of the staff pretty well.
That's not how you first knew of Chan though.
No, that was a while later. One hot day a few years ago, when Chan was still scrawny and more awkward with girls. He had finally had a chance to grab a slushie, opting for the purple mystery flavor that rested in the machines. (Chan thinks it was a result of a machine that hadn't been cleaned, so it really just tasted like a mixture of all the flavors.) Anyways, he happened to be in a hurry due to him chatting with Mingyu for well over his break.
Which meant he booked it to the other side of the park.
Which consequentially meant that he wasn't watching where he was going. This meant that his slushie met an unfortunate end on your lifeguard bathing suit. And all over the floor.
Now, you were testing patience at the time. This was a new job, plus it was an accident, you could forgive the guy. You also didn't mind that he was pretty cute.
That was until he ran.
Look, in Chan's defense, you made him so nervous. You were so much prettier up close! He stood there frozen for a few minutes, stuttering and thinking of ways to apologize. So he did the only viable thing to do, he ran to the bathrooms to fetch napkins!
Only, he didn't say a word so you thought he literally just ran off to avoid conflict - which wasn't even happening in the first place!
After that, you dubbed Lee Chan someone to avoid. He obviously left you in a mean spirited haste, a deep purple stain blotched all on the front of your uniform. You figured he had a good laugh about it too!
Chan regrets it everyday, why didn't he just act like a normal human?! Why did he have to make things harder for himself?!
By the time Chan had returned, you were long gone. You had ran to the bathroom on the verge of tears, basically abandoning your post and leaving Minghao to run after you.
So if anyone asked, you'd say that your distaste for Lee Chan was completely valid.
...
"Great work today team." Joshua addresses you all, clapping his hands together before placing them on his hips. "I'm really proud of you all today."
"Which is why you should let us go home." Jeonghan pipes up from behind you in the cluster of a group, smiling hopefully.
Joshua laughs sarcastically. "But then you'd miss all the fun!"
The smile dies on Jeonghans face as Joshua starts recanting the same little group seminar tips he gave last year. And the year before that.
Then he waves a hand out. "I've noticed that there's been some tension on the team lately, so we're going to heal that with some bonding time!"
Karina stiffens beside you, leaning in to whisper. "I'm already bored."
You giggle a bit as Joshua starts pairing up teams for an obstacle course through the park. Normally, you wouldn't care, that was until Joshua cited a twenty five dollar Starbucks gift card awarded to the winner. Oh, he had your attention now.
"Karina, I know you don't talk to Jeonghan a lot so you're with him!" Joshua says esthetically, while you sigh at losing two possible partners. Well, there was still Hao.
"Minghao and Vernon."
Well there goes that.
You finally are graced with the call of your name but are immediately shot back down to earth when the accompanying name leaves your managers lips. "..And Chan."
You immediately step up in protest. "Are we allowed to switch partners?"
Chan frowns but regains a bit of hope as Joshua shakes his head. "Nope, sorry but I have to be firm with this. In fact, you two are the tension I was referring to earlier."
"Are you kidding?"
Joshua narrows his eyes, gripping his clipboard. "Do I look like I'm kidding?"
"Joshua, with all due respect, there is no tension! It's just Chan being an idiot!" You complain, widening your eyes.
Ouch, Chan thinks. That went straight to his ego.
Though your boss stands his ground. "I would just like you two to work together for once."
You scoff, muttering a string of curses under your breath which Joshua pretends not to hear, Chan does as well. For the sake of his pride.
Your manager finishes reading the names off of the paper and announces the commencement of the challenge, which you could be less than excited about.
"For this activity, one of you is going to be blindfolded. This will help strengthen the trust you two have in each other."
Trust? You and Chan just looked at each other after you were handed the blindfold. You didn't even know what the objective of the game was yet.
"Part of this activity is deciding who will be blindfolded amongst yourselves." Joshua continues, rubbing salt into the wound.
"Well-" You begin, about to start arguing when Chan holds his hand out. He can see that you're definitely uncomfortable with the idea.
"I'll be blindfolded." He states.
"What?" He wasn't even going to fight you on it? "Really?"
He shrugs, trying to will his face from not turning red. "I trust you."
You blankly stare for a minute, trying to read a hint of humor or anything of that sort in his eyes. But you come up empty, his expression dead serious. You just handed him the blindfold, leaving him to fend for himself as he tied it around his eyes.
What did he mean he trusted you?
Karina finishes tying Jeonghan's when she turns back to your boss. "Now what?"
"You're going to lead them through the water course," Joshua smiles, although it seems a bit mischievous. He had to be getting a kick out of this. "The ones that come out first, and the most dry, win."
You gape, you were supposed to lead this grown ass man through the water course and not let him fall in?
"Lead your partner to the starting position, and then we'll begin."
You do a steady job at pushing at Chan's back to the finish line. You're less than enthusiastic about it though.
You line up among the others, knowing you'll probably come out of this ordeal soaking wet, and that's less than desirable.
The course is simple, lined up floating fuzzy blocks paced in a pathway like structure. Then you have to follow up a little climb of inflatable stairs. Then back down to the finish line. Easy enough right?
Chan's shaking right now, he's not looking forward to falling in and possibly being left to drown — as if he's not in the prescence of a group of lifeguards right now — as if he's not one himself.
He's still scared though, give him a break, he can't see!
He hears the sound of a whistle and you begin pushing at his back, leading him onto the first block. The weight of you two displaces the block, and you can feel the other block getting further.
"Okay, move about two inches onto the next block, don't fall." You instruct him and he follows, waving his foot around until he feels the safety of the makeshift ground.
You jump onto it after him, "The next one is directly in front."
And you're pleased as he lands right on it. The two of you are ahead of some of the others as well, Seungkwan already having fallen into the water, and Vernon still on the first block as Minghao tries to encourage him to move already!
"The next one is far, so I'm going to go ahead of you. I'll grab your hand after and pull you, alright?" You explain and Chan nods.
You do as you said and then hold your hand out, grabbing his palm and pulling him so the blocks float closer together. He carefully makes the step and you cheer a little in your head.
You only had one more block, then the stairs, and you were home free. You could practically taste your drink now.
Well, maybe if Chan hadn't almost fell over.
You grab both of his arms in an attempt to stop him, and you catch him just in time. He winces at the prospect of falling, and you squeeze him. "I'm not going to let you fall, okay? I've got you."
Chan's glad he can't see you, because then he'd bear witness to you noticing the growing redness of his face. And if he had to acknowledge it, then he'd jump into the water himself.
You two successful make it to the last block and you cheer, the others having more trouble with their team work behind you. The others seem to be having a hard time due to lack of trust in their guiders.
You notice that Chan had trusted completely in everything you had said, even though you knew he didn't want to splash in the pool.
You stare at him for a minute, and he starts talking. "Uhh, aren't we supposed to keep moving"
You shake your thoughts from your head. "Up the stairs now, I'll lead you, just hold my hand."
Before you know it, the two of you had made it to the end. You take off Chan's blindfold as you announce your victory. Throwing your arms around Chan as you celebrate. "We won! We beat those suckers."
"Those suckers are right here!" Karina says, panting as she comes down the stairs. She's wet, pulling a much dryer Jeonghan behind her.
You keep your hands around Chan as Karina explains. "He stepped back on the block and basically pushed me off on accident."
You giggle at that, face on a few inches from Chan as he tries not to combust. Lord, he was so in love with you. Your pretty eyes as they crinkled while you let out the prettiest laugh.
Karina notices and she lets out a smile. He really did like you, anyone could see it in his eyes.
You don't notice though, sliding your hands off of Chan as you jokingly tease Karina. "I won the card! I won the card."
Jeonghan pulls off his blindfold just in time for you to see him roll his eyes. "Yeah, yeah."
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Chan insisted you made a night of spending the card together. You didn't mind, telling him you'd meet him there after your much needed shower.
So here you sat in the Starbucks lobby, awaiting Chan as you had the card and he had already passed you his order. You tapped away on your phone as you hear the chime of the door and you hear someone sitting across from you.
You don't mind his presence, weirdly, you felt he was really vulnerable with you today. While it likely didn't mean much to him, it had you overthinking everything.
"Here's your drink, it just came out." You speak first, pushing the cup towards him.
Chan thanks you and drums his fingers on the side of the cup. "You know, I think this is the longest we've been together without you saying you hate me or something."
You shrug. "It's hard to be mad in a Starbucks. Place smells like heaven, plus you showed out in the game today."
He waves you off. "It's easy to trust you, we've known each other for long."
You snort. "More like you've bothered me for so long."
"Oh, admit it. I make your job more interesting. If it wasn't for me constantly causing a scene then you'd be bored out of your mind."
"I guess you have a point." You reluctantly agree as you sip your drink.
He smirks. "I know."
You purse your lips. "So, any updates with Karina? I know you two have been spending time together lately. Seems I was wrong."
Chan sighs. "No, I'm not into her in that way."
Brows raised, you chuckle, asking a question you already knew the answer to. "She's not interested or?"
"No, and neither was I." He states, eyes meeting yours. "She was never the one I liked."
You don't know why but you stutter a bit. "S-She wasn't?"
Chan looks away. "If it had been her and I out there today, I would've fell into the water."
"What do you mean by that, Chan?"
"You know what I mean by that."
...
You'd been avoiding Chan for the past two days, even constantly buttering up Joshua so you could be on the opposite side of wherever Chan was. It was wrong, you know, but you couldn't help it.
You were a coward, you couldn't even think about acknowledging any feelings Chan had for you. You only had a week left until the end of Summer anyways. Maybe if you ignored it you could move on.
You couldn't like Chan, not after the years you spent disliking him. Sure, had he done anything else to make you increasingly upset? Well, no. And he did usually brighten up slow days with his presence. And he did leave random water bottles by your chair when he knew you were too busy to go get one yourself. (He didn't know you knew, you figured this was his way of trying to get on your good side after the ordeal, but you never forgave him)
That was another thing too, how could he say he liked you after purposefully trying to embarrass you? Sure, it was a while ago, but you never forgot.
You're brought back from your thoughts when Jeonghan speaks, "I'm sorry, your child is not tall enough to ride this ride. It's regulation."
In front of you was an increasingly stubborn woman and what seemed to be her child as she whined about rules you had nothing to do with. "This is ridiculous!"
"It's regulated by the city, ma'am." Jeonghan shrugs. "You can leave a comment card up front if you have a complaint."
She just scoffs and storms off, stomping loudly down the stairs with her child in tow. You'd never understand some people.
Jeonghan turns to you. "Been here the whole summer and I'm still not used to it."
"You never get used to it, trust me."
He laughs in response, before changing the subject. "It's quiet up here, usually Chan's in the general vicinity by now."
You stiffen at the name. "He must be busy."
"He's never too busy for you." Jeonghan crosses his arms.
You bite the inside of your cheek. "Too busy to bother me?"
He suddenly turns serious. "I don't understand, Chan is nothing but nice to you and yet you're always ratting on him like he's a pest."
"You don't get it." You say, hoping he'll drop it.
He doesn't though. "Sure, he's a little overbearing at times but it's only because he really likes you."
"Don't say that."
"Say what?"
"Say that he likes me."
"Are you stupid?" Jeonghan spouts, and you're shocked at his tone. "The poor guy looks at you like you hung the stars yourself and you always just brush him off like he's a nuisance! But you know what? Even after all the mean things you do, he does nothing but talk greatly about you. About how you're the kindest soul, about how your smile lights up his day. How you're the prettiest girl he's ever laid eyes on."
You stay quiet, holding back tears.
"He thinks you're the greatest girl in the world, you've just never given him a chance to tell you." He finishes, leaning against the railing.
"I don't believe you."
Jeonghan turns away. "Then you'll have to ask him yourself."
You open your mouth to speak, but it's as if your friend reads your mind. "I-"
"Go," He interrupts, jutting his chin in that direction. "Before it's too late. He's with Vernon at the flow rider."
You nod and take off down the stairs, mindful of the puddles of water on the floor, but your urgency remains the same. You had to know, you had to hear it from him. You need to know why.
It's not too far in the afternoon that there's a huge line, only a couple people standing around but Vernon's helping them. Chan stands to the side looking unoccupied, now was your chance.
Wading through the people, your heart beating against your chest, you find yourself standing in front of Chan.
He averts his eyes, unsure of how to start the conversation. He had gotten the message from your avoidance, you had made your point. "You want to, um, ride the flow rider or..?"
You clear your throat. "Do you like me?"
He leans back at the question. "I thought it was obvious."
"And this isn't a prank?"
He wipes his palms on his pants. "W-Why would it be a prank?"
"I don't know! How am I supposed to believe you after that slushie?" You say, genuinely distraught.
"What slushie?"
"The one you spilled on when I first got hired here! What kind of joke was that?" You ask, finally glad to let it out into the air after holding it in for so long.
"What do you mean? I ran off to get napkins and when I came back you were gone!" Chan answered, confused on why you even remembered that.
"You could've told me! I thought you had ran off to laugh at me!" You argued.
He stands, ignoring the attention you two had drawn from others. "I would've said something but I clammed up and didn't know what to say, you were just so pretty-"
You straighten up. "Chan, you're a moron."
He stills. "I know."
"I thought you were cute before then too. But I felt so embarrassed after that, I even had to pay for a new one because Joshua said someone took the spare."
Chans eyes soften. "I grabbed it for you, but as we know, I never got to give it to you."
You look down at the new information. "Oh."
"I like you, I really do." He begins. "I like a lot of things about you. Like your perseverance, your passion for this job, your love for your friends. Just one of these days I wished you would've talked to me long enough without ripping me apart."
"I'm a bit harsh, aren't I?"
"It's one of the things I like about you, you're not scared to put anyone in their place." He admits, and it was true. Chan liked all of you, not just your better qualities.
"This whole time I thought you were the jerk when really it was me." You remark, eyes on your shoes and the floor beneath you.
"I don't blame you, I'd hate me too." Chan chuckles.
You shake your head. "I don't hate you. In fact, these past few days have been so draining. As much as I complained, you gave me something to look forward too. Knowing I'd see you do something to get my attention, just didn't know why you wanted it so bad."
"Now you know." He steps forward. "And between you and I, I've done a lot of embarrassing things to get you to look my way."
"Oh, you did them on purpose?" You tease.
He playfully rolls his eyes. "Obviously."
You assured him that you believed him as you smiled. He grabs your hand in his, the two of you standing in the sweltering heat of the park. He rubs his thumb over your palm. "So what now?"
"Take me on a date."
"You want to?"
"I wouldn't say it if I didn't." You respond. "I want to give us a chance."
"You have no idea how happy I am to hear you say that."
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BONUS:
"That bastard really did it." Seungkwan remarks, eyes bulging out of their sockets as he watches you and Chan flirt by the lockers before closing.
Karina stares on as well. "They're so cute that I want to throw up."
"Give them a break." Minghao butts in. "Today is the last day."
"Thank the Lord." Vernon approaches the others. "As if he couldn't get more annoying about her, I've had to hear him recount every date they've had so far."
Minghao cringes. "She's the same way."
Karina agrees. "I'm not even that bad."
Seungkwan looks over at her. "So how are thing with Mingyu anyways?"
Karina put her hands up. "Oblivious as always."
Shrugging, Minghao leans on the wall. "Should we just ditch them here and go?"
"But we haven't finished cleaning-" Jeonghan, who appeared out of nowhere starts before his voice dies down. "Yeah, lets go."
"They'll definitely be too in love to notice us leaving."
"For sure."
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otakuworks · 1 year
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❛ 𝐒𝐄𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑. reborn au
feat. Zhongli x Reincarnated!GN!Reader | PART I | wc. 4.6K
Based on 'See You In My 19th Life' | overview. this webtoon follows the story of a woman who can somehow remember all her past lives.
sum. after a sweet hello, your lips never found its way to say the bittersweet goodbye. because you knew you would always find your way back to him even if he won't recognize you in your renewable lives.
note. some scenes are purposely inaccurate to the canon lore
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main.mlist genshin.mlist | xiao ver.
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You first met him as Morax, a little child dragon you grew up discreetly meeting at a very convenient time of your day, never knowing what's stored for the two of you.
He first met you as Y/N who resides at the countryside near Mt. Tianheng in hopes to find new things to discover across the vast lands of Teyvat. And he did. He found you.
Young Morax found you crouched under an oak tree, the wind flowing with your otherworldly voice, enrapturing him in blissful comfort.
Perched in the tree branch, he listens intently and let himself melt in your grace. It wasn't the first time he finds you warbling a melodic tune, and each time he comes back to hear more from you, it's always a different song and it wouldn't cease to amaze him how much ditty you know.
He lost count on how often he'd fall asleep with your voice lulling him and wakes up feeling empty as the epilogue of his day is always spent without your presence.
Sometimes he wonders if you know he has been watching you, and if you do, why aren't you approaching him? No matter, young Morax doesn't intend to befriend with you.
But then one day...
"Hello! You must be the boy who likes to hear me sing by the tree."
He was caught red handed, perhaps he became distracted that he didn't realize he's been shamelessly stalking you. He couldn't stop his curiosity to follow you in your way home.
Not only he's been spying on you, now he sounds like a stalker. But you didn't suspect, there wasn't anything to be suspicious of anyway.
"H-Huh? H-How did you know?" He gotta commend you for your keen senses. He's the Dragon between the two of you, which means he's supposed to be the one who has sharper senses.
"You must be good at anything but hiding. I have known you've been following me, but I never get to see you up close, you're really majestic looking, by the way." You chuckled as his poor attempt of masking his flushed face at your compliment.
"I don't mind your company, in fact, I want to be friends with you."
Friends. What a foreign concept for young Morax.
He has heard of that term, it's common among mortals, but he's not a mortal. Does this 'friend' term stretches to immortals like him as well? If so, then he has no reason to refuse.
Says the person who one minute ago thought of every alternative ways to stay out of your way.
He was skeptical at your optimism, most mortals would be astounded at his appearance and try to persuade him to spill whatever secrets he has, but as he got to know you better, he was a bit guilty to categorize you as one of them.
His horns and inhumane features? Young Morax found out you're only fascinated by his unique physical looks. And never doubted it.
"Cool! You have horns just like our boars, where did you get those? Can I touch them?"
"Did you just compare my horns to a pig? Pigs don't even have horns! How disgraceful!"
The sparkle in your eyes quickly died down as it came, and the young Morax feels tight in his chest just seeing your smile turns into a frown. You insulted his pride though!
You mumbled a meek apology but still kept your sheepish smile, a glimmer of hope that one day he'd let you do it.
The next days were spent by you sneaking out your house every midnight to meet up with the dragon, Morax. He's slightly skittish, oddly resembling him that of a cat, which is cute.
You probably shouldn't be calling a literal Dragon cute, legends depicted them as tyrannical creatures who seek treasures.
Ah! Classic children's story to scare the kids away at night, it did affect you in some way.
But you can't help it when he would eagerly look at you whenever he asks you to sing him a song.
You'd sit side by side under the tree, you have to admit he'd either falls asleep amidst your song or asks you for the lyrics so he can sing it to himself too.
You even dedicated a song that lets a certain flower bloom.
"Glaze Lily? What's that?" Young Morax asked with tilted head.
A smile outstretched your lips, "Beautiful, right? It transforms the memories of the land into its fragrance during florescence."
"Really?! Is that why you're always out in the dark?" You chuckled sheepishly, feigning ignorance, "Don't know what you're talking."
You got to know each other, held hands like innocent children, share what little knowledge your pea sized brain can, hug whenever one seeks comfort, eat under the glistening sun.
Morax is... a sensitive individual, albeit rough around the edges, but he's young and still learning, and you're unbelievably patient with his attitude— a quirk from you that he greatly appreciates.
From that, young Morax grew fond of you and it isn't one sided.
He flies by the same tree and gives you random things he finds magnificent, whether it could be a rock he found by the lake or a rare item that no one has ever discovered before.
Well, the legend wasn't lying about Dragons and treasure, for sure
You'd laugh at the strangest things he discovers but accepted them nonetheless. Every object he gives you is worth something.
This has been part of your routine for days, weeks, months, even years maybe. You don't know how much time has gone by whenever you're with him and you never bothered to count.
Before you know it, the two of you are almost in young adulthood, he grew up to be a fine man, much unlike you were expecting. Nothing changed from your friendship, until now.
You were taken by surprise when he suddenly blurted out one day
"I want to show you what I see from up there one day, Y/N."
He gazes at you much differently when he looks at you when you were younger. There's a glint of promise in his eyes that you can't pinpoint, it sent shivers all over your nerves.
"You can just fly me up there, Morax. I'm sure I'm not heavy." You muster a smile in an attempt to ease your quickening heartbeats.
He never gave a reply, he only stared at you so intensely that it feels like he's poking your deepest and innermost thoughts.
The way he stares at you never fails to summon the tickling butterflies in your stomach and the blood on your cheeks. You merely regarded that as your hormones, anyone would be flustered if someone they're close to stare at them like that.
You should've known better that nothing in your world stays permanent. The only thing you remember after that day was his twisted look of desperation to keep you alive and tear stained amber dyes trying to get the last image of you in his memories.
"N-No... Y/N please stay with me. D-Don't leave m-me just yet." It hurts you more than the numbing pain in your abdomen to see him broke down like a cornered prey. So helpless and vulnerable.
"I-I'll always be w-with you, Morax..."
So cruel, just when you've begun to realize the burgeoning feelings you have for the Dragon, fate took you away before you have the chance to confess.
Should you be selfish to confess your feelings to him? If you do, it seems like you'll be punishing him an endless torture ahead, and you would never wish Morax to suffer for eternity.
You only smiled and caressed his horns, even in your deathbed you're glad you died in the arms of the man you ever loved.
At the last moment, you heard the anguished wail erupts from his throat as he clutches your form closer, begging and crying for you to come back, to not leave him like this, that he needed you, that he loves you. His pleas fell on deaf ears, for you weren’t there to hear him anymore.
But it became clear to you that he reciprocated your love.
It came a shocking twist when you opened your eyes you can hear multiple cooing sounds from around you. Didn't I die in his arms? Where am I? Turns out, you were reborn. But not as Y/N anymore and you were given a surname.
Unfortunately, the Celestia isn't so forgiving. You were suffering from an unknown illness that took away your second life at such a young age.
You trained hard and learned martial arts in your third life as you were born from a family whose tradition is to produce well-trained warriors in the future.
Fourth to eight life came by like a blur, there were times when you get to lived as an innocent child only for it to be ripped away a few years later with your past memories resurfacing.
You stopped counting after it hits a dozen, born in different class, society and unnamed nation. There's no point of it.
All you want is to look for Morax, but will he remember you? Will he even recognize you as Y/N? You're no longer the kid he grew fond of. No, you're much different than before.
What about him? Decades have past, does he still know of your name? You could've been a fragment of his childhood that he dare not talk about with his new friends.
Will I make your life more difficult by trying to reconnect with you, Morax?
Those thoughts haunted you for nights, often occuring in your dreams.
But what can you do, you're so far away from Mt. Tianheng, you don't even know if the village you lived in still exists nor do you know if Morax still visits the tree you first met.
Even if you did meet him in your new life, you ought to stay as acquaintances.
Aiding him in the shadows and lessening his burdens within your power.
In your hundredth life, all of your training in your third life is proven useful at the moment. You're known as the infamous warrior with no name that took down the monsters around Teyvat, you were revered to the people in the Guili Assembly.
War is threatening to wage amongst Gods and mortals alike.
When it came, no one is safe in and out of the battlefield. To survive they must fight tooth and nail, paint the lands in sea of red and play the game of thrones.
It was gratuitously morbid, gruesome and unjust. A macabre of series of deaths surrounded your every wake, your hundredth life is the epitome of a living nightmare. Horrifyingly memorable.
You were at the sidelines, watching as the war unfold, keeping tabs on Morax's allies and eradicating whatever threat they face.
That's when you came across the stunning Goddess Guizhong, the Ruler of Clouds, Goddess of Dust. A very close companion of Morax whom he met at the Guili Assembly along with the others.
She's capable and quick-witted, a type of peculiar person Morax wouldn't hesitate to be friends with.
As of the moment, a claymore is alarmingly closing its gap towards her, ready to slice her open.
Then you heard him scream, a cry of a man who's about to lose everything he has gained of.
That cry sent flashbacks of his tear-stained cheeks. No, you don't want to see him like that again! You'd do anything to chase away that vulnerable image of Morax, he deserves happiness and love.
Your feet went autopilot and swept away the Goddess out of the way, severing your lower limbs in the process and instantly killing you. Your eyes opened and you have started your new life.
Was Morax relieve that Guizhong lived? Did he wonder why a stranger would save her? Did he ever ask who you were? Did he... recognize you at the very least?
Your new parents panicked as they tried to appease the crying infant in their arms. Unbeknownst to your pained heart.
You saw for a brief moment before your demise how Guizhong's plausible absence will affect him. He will mourn her death as much as he lamented yours. For decades or centuries, you know he has been scarred by your passing.
You don't want him to go through that again. It's a different pain you feel when you see him tearing up, you rather get minced by a claymore than to watch him break down.
He garnered the reputation of a tyrant— but you knew better that Morax grew up with compassionate heart, he appreciates anyone no matter how insignificant they think they are.
Which is why you hold yourself from meeting him. He may not remember you, but he will certainly get attached to you once you had your way to his heart.
And a dragon who can outlive you in any lives will only suffer more from your death.
You dedicated your lives in living peacefully, learning history and new things as humanity evolves.
You vow to never fall in love if it isn't Morax you'll spend your mortal life with.
Even if he has someone he can fall in love with.
"Have you heard about the land Lord Morax and Lady Guizhong are building in Mt. Tianheng?" Gossips are everywhere about the infamous partners who survived the Archon War, there's no mouth that has not utter their names, and you're no exception.
A grin spreads over your lips as you sip your tea with elegance, "I've heard, I haven't seen them in person but the rumors about them guaranteed they're ambitious people with good hearts."
This has been a hobby you never knew; praising Morax to elate people's opinion about him. It's your small contribution to his flourishing nation.
You want people to love and respect Morax dearly just as you loved him in your childhood.
You prayed to the new Archons for Morax to find someone he can love and lean on. Someone that can be his source of strength to keep living. Someone much better than leaving him with death.
Now that he found someone he can be with, your goal in your next lives is to protect Liyue's history.
From the names of ancient relics and objects, war waged by the Gods, Nations that were built underneath the once blood soaked lands, fallen heroes who are forgotten— you know all of them. You're openly willing to offer tutelage to the inquisitive.
You sighed at the thought, it certainly will be lonely in your part. Immortal gods can still die— a death in which they'd leave their memories behind and start anew. Morax will eventually cease to existence with lovable Nation and Guizhong to remember him.
And you? Countless past lives yet you never found true happiness, and none of them was worth to remember for anyone.
Part of you feels happy for Morax finally moving on from your death eons ago, but you're still human so you're susceptible to those horrible impulses of bitterness at a basic level.
But you don't want to be a person who looks at Guizhong with jaundiced eyes just because you couldn't have Morax, so you suck it up and move on the fact Morax is in love with another.
At least my sacrifice isn't a total waste.
"Aren't they? I've met Lady Guizhong, she's such a beautiful and soft spoken woman. She and the Lord of Geo are a perfect match. I wish the two of them eternal blessings."
A tug at your heart left an unpleasant feeling, your brain tried to reason that at least he's with someone that'll love him more than you did. That can appease your bitter aching heart a bit.
How ironic. You built a nation where you first met me.
And showed her what you can see up there like you promised me.
Is that how you honor my death, Morax?
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"Wow! You sure do know many things, Y/N!" The floating emergency food expressed her awe in your display of knowledge and the traveller couldn't agree more with her, "She's right, you never cease to surprise us."
Their exclaims were followed by your enchanting laugh, "I'm glad I can be at your service, Honory Knight."
You were simply ethereal to look at, you maybe a mortal like the traveller but the Blondie thinks otherwise.
Paimon and her travelling buddy met you by the Starnach Cliff when they were attempting to subdue Dvalin. Jean and Diluc already know you're part of the Adventurer's Guild as you often visit Mondstadt from time to time.
They didn't expect you to join them in their excursion in Stormterror's Lair, it turns out you're a great addition to the team.
You befriended with the traveller after the whole Stormterror fiasco and catch up with Kaeya.
You don't stand out the most in the crowd, you can blend in with everyone and no one would acknowledge your existence. But the traveller can sense the weight of the wisdom you withhold.
It almost feels like you're one of the Seven...
"Is there something else I can help you with, Traveller?"
"Huh?! Oh... I— Uhh... You've been telling us stories and fun facts about Mondstadt. If you don't mind, can you tell us about Liyue?"
For an ephemeral moment, the traveller saw your facade crumbles and slowly morphed into a nostalgic expression.
"Hmm. I'll tell you a quick introduction. Liyue is built in Mt. Tianheng after the Lord of Geo attained one of seven seats, unlike the Anemo Archon who's known to not show himself, he descends down once a year to give blessings to the people of Liyue."
"Exactly how Venti told us, but more detailed."
"He sounds a lot more of a decent God than Tone-Deaf Bard."
Her statement elicited a quiet snicker from you, "I'll be off then, I'll see you around soon." Paimon's expression deflated, "You're not coming with us?"
You shake your head, "I'll visit you when I can, until then I hope for your safe travels."
You forced a smile and took a different path from the traveller, as their figures disappear in the horizon, you felt your smile slip up as the sun whisks past the mountains turning to dusk.
Solitude in the dark has been part of your daily routine, you come and go whenever you feel like it, not knowing when to return.
The excuse you told to Paimon isn't entirely a lie, you couldn't bring yourself to go in Liyue when there's active Fatui agents scattered around the vicinity.
Let's just say you're not in good terms with the Fatui. Who isn't?
Nevertheless, whatever curse you have continued to persist in your thousandth life. You roamed around Teyvat and tell stories that even historians don't know.
Repeated lives were lived by just you traversing in each corners of Teyvat that even Archons never knew it existed.
Along the way, you've come terms with your feelings and settled it down like a dormant volcano. Morax is your first love, you enjoyed reminiscing the memories you made with him, you keep those memories locked up in the depths of your mind and often recount them in particular leisure time of the day.
You still love him, and you'll always be by his side whenever he needs a helping hand, but enough is enough, you've suffered enough to your own idiocy and fears. It's time to move on.
Morax continued to strive forward because he has changed, for the better of course. If you want to continue living the next lives of yours then you need to change too.
You met new friends and companions that you begin to trust and have fun with, the traveller and the emergency food included. It wasn't lonely as you thought it would be.
Sometimes you wonder why do you have such curse bestowed upon you. Did the Celestia punish you for a crime? Did you touch a forbidden relic in your first life? Is there a way to get rid of it?
You stopped in your tracks and you gaze up in the sky.
Am I the only one with such curse?
Damn, you really need to get your priorities straight when you have so many unanswered questions.
Basking the remnants of the ever glowing star, you turn around to walk the path that leads you to the Land of Eternity.
A new journey awaits you as you skid through the mycelium path.
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Rex Lapis has died.
What a year starting with the news of a tragic death of an Archon.
Fret not Liyue citizens, Rex Lapis assumed the form of Zhongli as a consultant in the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor. In all honesty, he thinks you would facepalm on how poorly delivered that news was.
Zhongli now blends in with the mortals, often strolling to acknowledge the accomplishments he has done as an Archon.
There were too many sacrifices he made just to achieve such title and godly powers. It's uncountable.
Whenever he strolls down the streets of Liyue, there's never a day that he is not reminded of the fact Mt. Tianheng is the very foundation of Liyue. It serves as a reminder that you are his pillar when intrusive thoughts start to linger in his mind.
Oftentimes, your face is only a blur in his memory, no matter what he does he can't seem to remember your face, but your name has been engraved on his mind for eons.
He misses hearing the sound of your name leaving his lips. He misses how ignorant you both were to the world's suffering. He misses your mesmerizing voice that lulls him to sleep.
Whoever fellow Archon listening to his complex thoughts must have heard him and granted his not-so-impossible wish.
"Hey look. Doesn't that sound like a story Y/N has told us before?" A child(e)— no, a floating fae pointed at the storyteller.
But Zhongli couldn't care less about whoever she was pointing. Did he hear her right? Was it just his ears deceiving him?
Y/N... that's your name.
That's the name he longed to hear again.
Why in the seven nations of Teyvat would they mention your name? Is it just a coincidence that someone has the same name as you? No, that couldn't be it.
Something flared inside him, it's been awhile since he felt this excitement, it's not far fetched when he became your friend.
With no recollection, he became friends with the traveller and the emergency food floating companion.
When he asks them about you, an array of hope filled his entire being and he swore his Dragon feature almost burst into existence
Y/N L/N, a member of the Adventurer's Guild, he's certain you've been in Liyue if you know about its rich culture.
But where are you? He wants to go find you. Hug you like when you were kids. Sing him songs. Bring you random things he can find. Speak the words that were left unspoken when you died.
So many questions brooding his mind; are you really Y/N? If so, were you reincarnated? Does that mean you don't remember him?
The elation he felt dropped. Right... he shouldn't be disappointed if it turns out his hunch is wrong. Even if you're not the Y/N he was expecting, he wants to know you as who you are and not compare the similarities and differences you have with the Y/N he knows.
"Oh yeah, Y/N mentioned they'll be visiting Liyue soon, Mr. Zhongli." The Traveler quipped, assessing the abrupt change of emotions on the consultant's face at the mention of your name.
Paimon and her travelling buddy can't help to wonder if you two are acquaintances, or perhaps something more than that. Zhongli seems to be expecting your arrival from now on.
"Is that so? Thank you for informing me, Traveler. I shall see to it that their stay will be comfortable." He smiled.
Stay in what? In the Funeral Parlor? The Traveler sweat drop while Paimon is tempted to point out that's Verr Goldet's job. Good thing their companion put a hand on her mouth and excuse themselves
There's no time to stall! He thought.
He's determined to check it himself, it can go two ways and Zhongli won't be petulant of the result.
Archons forbid if he ever finds you, because he will not let you go.
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>> PART 2
©OTAKUWORKS | 2022
5K notes · View notes
thedarlingdearestdead · 7 months
Text
Injured Soldier:
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Summary: You were injured in battle, stuck in the hospital wing for days. About to get up and escape from your bed you are interrupted by the infamous General Skywalker. He is amused by your attempt and offers you a whole new kind of escape...
Warnings: MATURE, pretty shameless smut, R18, talk of violence.
Word count: 2,430
The medical bay had been your home for days following the attack on Bandomeer. You didn't remember the flight back from the battlefield, only the smoke and the rain, and the fiery agony when the shrapnel hit your abdomen. You were lucky to be here though, even if the sterile white lights kept your head in a constant ache, at least you were being medicated. 
You signed against your pillows, positively vibrating with energy and impatience. Surely your ribs had healed enough by now so that you could take a walk. The chamber was empty, Master Che had left about an hour ago, deployed to some other place where her talents were needed. You make the decision that she would be a while, and as such you could probably try to escape. 
Slowly, you edged up into a sitting position. Your head rushed slightly and your middle ached sharply, causing your hand to move and press against it. You let out a breath. It was not so bad...
Next was your legs, which you manoeuvred slowly off the bed one by one, swinging them around you stood up. Easy. Your balance was slightly weak so you gripped the side of your cot, looking around for some clothes. 
You had put on your old trousers, standing in your bra as you wrapped your wounds up with some gauze to keep them padded and covered, when the doors to the wing swung open.
Like a deer caught in headlights you turned to see the one, and only, General Skywalker. You did not know him well, being a couple years younger, but you knew him well enough as the rouge war hero. 
He raised an eyebrow at your guilty look, you movements to secure your bandages stopped.
"Going somewhere, soldier?" General Skywalker asked with a hint of amusement in his voice.
You bowed your head in respect, feeling a little embarrassed for being caught. "I was just going to take a walk, sir," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady despite your nerves. You felt exposed in your bra and trousers, the gauze sticking out like a sore thumb. You instinctively crossed your arms in front of your chest, feeling a flush creep up your neck. 
General Skywalker nodded, his piercing blue eyes scanning over your bandages. "I see. And has Master Che cleared you yet?"
Your heart skipped a beat at the mention of Master Che. You knew you were in trouble. You shook your head, feeling a pang of guilt for disobeying orders. "No, sir. I just needed to stretch my legs and get some fresh air. I'll be back soon." You assured him. 
General Skywalker's gaze softened with amusement as he stepped closer. "Those look like some nasty wounds." 
"I was on Bandomeer, sir."
His eyes drop to the floor. He had heard about the losses during that battle. "I commend you. It's L/N isn't it? Y/N?" 
"Yes sir." You say, surprised at his knowing of your name.
His mouth turns up sightly at that, an inexcrutable look passing across his face. "There's no need to call me 'sir'. Anakin, please." He nods across the room at you. 
You look down at your hand, busying yourself by securing the bandages and trying not to blush.
Anakin took a step closer to you, his gaze intense. You felt a shiver run down your spine at the magnetic energy he exuded. "Do you have any other injuries?" He asked, his voice soft and concerned.
"No, well only a few... These of course," you gestured downwards at yourself, "I fell after impact so there are a few cuts and scrapes but most of the damage was internal." You attempt to shrug but it comes off more as a wince. "I am not a natural fighter, General Skywalker." 
"I think you are a fighter," he says, his voice low and gentle. "You survived Bandomeer, after all. Not many can say that."
You feel your heart racing in your chest as you look up at him. There's something about him, something magnetic, that draws you in despite your better judgement. 
"Here," he says, passing you the shirt from atop the dresser. "I won't stop you. I always escape early too, I hate it here." 
You take the shirt gratefully, pulling it over your head and smoothing it down over your bandages. Anakin's eyes never leave you as you do so, and you feel a warmth spreading through your chest. You've never felt so seen before. 
"Thank you, Anakin," you say, testing out his name on your tongue. It feels foreign, but not uncomfortable. "I really was intending on returning, it's just been so dull staring at the ceiling all these days."
Anakin nods, stepping aside to let you pass. You feel a jolt as your arm brushes against his, and you look up to see him staring at you. 
There's a moment of hesitation before Anakin leans in, his warm breath ghosting over your ear. "If you're looking for some excitement, I could show you a few things," he murmurs, his tone shockingly suggestive.
Your heart picks up its pace as you look up at him, feeling a rush of desire washing over you. You know you should say no, that it's inappropriate and against the rules, but there's something about Anakin that draws you in. Something you can't resist.
Without another word, he takes your hand and leads you out of the medical bay. You feel confident making your escape with him. Like if you got caught you wouldn’t get in trouble, not from that at least. Your eyes didn't move from where he was grasping your hand. The two of you make your way down the corridors, his touch sending shivers down your spine. You can't believe you're doing this, you don't even know him, but there's a sense of freedom in breaking the rules. Freedom that you had been longing for. 
Anakin leads you to a small side door, pulling you out with him into the fresh air. You breathe deeply, feeling the cool breeze across your skin. The night sky is clear, the stars shining down on you like little diamonds. You can't remember the last time you felt so alive. 
It was some kind of rooftop balcony which overlooked the entire city but shielded you from view.
He grins at you as the door closes. "So, you wanted to stretch your legs?" Anakin moves closer to you, his hand settling on your lower back as he guides you towards the edge of the balcony.
"Try not to move too much, you don't want to reopen your wounds," he warns, his voice low and husky.
You shiver at the sound of it, the desire pooling low in your stomach. Anakin's hands move up to your shoulders, pushing your hair aside to expose your neck. He starts by gently nipping at you from behind, pulling a small noise of surprise from you. He squeezes your hips slightly, pushing you forward gently onto the railing. Your head starts to swim, becoming overwhelmed with this turn of events. Never in your wildest dream did you think you could have Anakin Skywalker. 
You turn your head to meet his gaze and he leans in for a deep, passionate kiss, finally on the mouth. His lips are soft and warm against yours, his tongue sliding past your lips to explore your mouth. You wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer. Or you try to, one of your arms still couldn't extend so far upwards, you flinched but tried to push down the pain.
He tuts seeing this immediately. "Just be still, let me take care of you." 
Anakin's hands move down to your waist, pulling you closer as he deepens the kiss. You moan softly into his mouth, your body igniting with desire. The pain in your arm is forgotten as Anakin's touch leaves a trail of fire across your skin. He breaks the kiss, his lips trailing down your jawline to your neck. You tilt your head back, giving him better access.
"I want you, Y/N," he whispers against your skin, his hands moving up to cup your breasts through the fabric of your shirt. "I can feel how much you want me too."
You gasp as he squeezes your breasts, the pleasure shooting through your body. You're embarrassed at how much you're enjoying this, but you can't help it. "Please," you beg, arching your back into his touch. Anakin grins, his hands moving down to your hips.
Without another word, Anakin turns you around and presses you up against the railing again. His hands move down to your hips, grazing your damaged abdomen and with care and pulling you closer as he grinds against you. You moan, feeling the growing bulge in his pants rubbing against your ass. Anakin's hands move up to your breasts again, his fingers continuing to play over your nipples through the fabric of his shirt. 
His knee moves to separate your legs, thigh providing friction where you need it most. 
"I want to fuck you so badly right now, Y/N," Anakin whispers into your ear, his words making you shiver. 
You watch as his hands move down to your hips again, his fingers hooking into the waistline of your pants and pulling them down. Turning to face him, Anakin's gaze was hungry as he looks you up and down. 
You felt him pressing against your stomach, causing you to shudder in anticipation. You reach down, unbuttoning the top of Anakin's trousers to expose his erection. He moans softly as your hand wraps around his shaft, the calluses of your palm making him shudder.
Anakin's mouth moves down to your neck, leaving a trail of warm, luscious kisses down your skin. You tilt your head back, gasping as you feel his teeth nip down your throat. He pulls you closer, his knee moves from in between your legs and he spins you around, your chest meeting the metal barrier. He pulled your ass back, stopping you from crushing your ribs and stomach. His breath hits the side of your neck, hot and heavy with lust. 
You feel the tip of his cock pressing against you, begging for entrance. You let out a deep moan as you feel him enter you, your body pulsing around him as he pushes deeper and deeper inside you. You try to relax around him, tried to let the pain pass but you still couldn't help but flinch slightly. 
Anakin stops moving for a second, "You alright?" He asks, his voice laced with concern.
"Yeah, I'm okay, just... go slow, please," you say, your voice breathy. Anakin's hands move to your hips, holding you in place as he moves in and out of you, your body slowly growing accustomed to his size. You let out a sigh of relief as he begins thrusting again, your body growing more comfortable with each passing second.
You can feel the pressure building inside you, your body tingling from the pleasure that it was getting. You moaned again, pushing back into him to meet his thrusts. 
Anakin's hands move up from your hips, resting on your breasts as he leans in to whisper into your ear, "You're so tight, Y/N," he groaned softly.
Anakin moves a hand down to your clit, rubbing his fingers gently against the nub. You let out a deep moan, your eyes fluttering shut. You were so close, all you needed was a little more. His other arm moves around your waist, holding you up as he ruts into you. Your body quivers, the pleasure more intense than anything you've ever felt before. You can feel him inside you, feel him filling you up. You could feel the pressure building inside you again, your moans becoming louder and louder.
You feel your body shake, your orgasm shaking your entire body as you come hard against his cock. Anakin stops moving for a second, letting you enjoy the waves of pleasure that crash over you, sucking at your neck. He thrusts into you again, and soon his own body shudders in delight. He buries his face into your shoulder, muffling his own groans of pleasure. He'd pulled out and was leaking onto the concrete beneath you both, whispering your name like a prayer. 
You sigh in content, your body tingling with pleasure as you lean forward onto the railing.
"Force, I needed that." He says after a minute. Zipping himself back into his pants. He sees your weakness and there is a flash of pride in his eyes as he eases you underwear and trousers back up your legs. 
"How do you feel?" You turn around slowly, wincing slightly as your abdominal muscles are pulled. He looks you over, concern pulling at his face, "Are you sure you're okay?"
You smile softly, "yeah, I'm okay, I think I should get back to the med bay though." 
"Of course, I'll walk with you." His manner was very casual now, he stood straight and put a hand on your lower back to guide you back to the halls. 
"You know, you're pretty good at that," you say to him with a smirk, making him blush slightly.
"At what?" He asks, his face turning a darker shade of red.
"The whole 'taking care of someone' thing."
He smiles, "You're not so bad yourself. You know, I came to the med bay because I needed something to help me calm down," 
"And have you?"
“Considerably,”  his shoulders were more relaxed than they had been when you'd first laid eyes on him, his gaze easier, lighter. 
The hall is busier than before, more people are flooding out of the hanger. They are all wearing grim expressions, you hear a few of them talking about another battle somewhere and see Anakin’s interest peaked. 
There is conflict in his eyes and you watch a veil come down, clearly back in General mode, he interrupts two talking nurses and asks about the incident quickly. Listening to their words and visibly steering himself towards the door to leave, to go help, he sends you a quick glance over his shoulder. 
"Get some rest L/N, it seems the war is not over yet." He nods at you, any other thoughts clouded by the urgency of his position. He leaves you standing in the med bay, brushing past a hassled Master Che whose eyes had found you standing over your bed. She was not well pleased with your state. 
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the-s1lly-corner · 28 days
Text
Various Creepypastas x Reader who sleeps in weird spaces
3/5 of the prizes for @reivelmin !!
Post contains: Eyeless Jack, Laughing Jack, Hoodie, Masky, Ticci Toby, Liu, and Bloody Painter!
I actually dont think I've written for Helen before?? I know I havent written for Liu yet so heres to hoping my takes and hcs are accurate!
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EYELESS JACK
When he first catches you in the closet sleeping nearly standing straight up he nearly yelps. You made the stoic eyeless Jack, the man who rarely flinches or jumps at anything, jolt. Naturally he wakes you up and asks why you're in there, but no answer really satisfies him. He tries to drag you to bed and for the night everything is.. normal. But this will be far from the last time he finds you sleeping in an odd place, seemingly unbothered. He eventually asks if theres something going on with you, even dumbly asking if theres something wrong with the bed.. but alas, nothing. You just.. sleep like that.. he often drags you into bed so you dont get sore or fall over
LAUGHING JACK
He thinks you're pranking him, and of course he starts cracking up. He commends you for getting him good, only for his laughter to die down when he realizes that you are in fact asleep while curled in a cabinet. For a moment he thinks you.. died.. or worse was murdered and stuffed into the odd place. He nearly rips you out of the space before you finally crack an eye open. Please dont scare him like that again, he does not take abandonment well even if the scenario is someone possibly dying. Once the shock is over with and he grows more used to it, the humor he originally found in it returns.. it almost turns into a game of where hes going to find you next and what position you're going to be in.. he does not bother to take you to bed and if theres room hes going to squeeze in with you wherever you are
MASKY
Hes probably done that at least once, he sometimes watches you in your sleep on the occasion that you actually fall asleep in a normal place (bed, couch, ect) and he kind of slumps into the corner he was sulking in. Though you... certainly one up him when he catches you sleeping on top of the fridge! If you're in a hard to reach place or really deep into it he leaves you be without attempting to get you out. Eventually he kind of just accepts that this is something you do and completely leaves you alone unless you're in the way of something. More likely to wake you up than moving you out of the way, though... you've probably gotten jumpscared by him simply standing there waiting for you to wake up
HOODIE
Very similar to Masky but I do think Hoodie would take you to bed so you dont get sick (floors are cold, people!) Or getting a knot somewhere in your muscles. Partly because he will likely be too busy with his work to tend to you, partly also because he can be stern when it comes to your health. Theres no ifs ands or buts, hes taking you to bed and hes going to keep you there! Hes a big dude too, he'll hold you in place next to him if he has to
TICCI TOBY
He gets it, honestly. If it's like a security or a comfort thing or just out of impulse he gets it. You might find him sleeping in ungodly positions when he crashes at your place, or sleeping under the bed. He has used a chair as a blanket before. He might feel inclined to try to one up you, actually. All fun and games of course! He also does not carry you to bed, and similar to LJ he might just join you if theres room! Just be warned when sleeping around him he might draw on your face or something.. definitely takes your phone so he can take pictures of you to make fun of you later
LIU
For a minute he doesnt realize exactly what's going on. He might actually pick your stuffed animal up and give it back to you and shut the door of the closet before ripping it open as he stares at you. Gently shakes your shoulder to wake you up, and while he might have to get a little harsh to actually get you awake hes apologizing for waking you up. So so so many questions. Why are you doing that? Why dont you come to bed? Will not take no for an answer. He wants answers, if there are any. After you offer an explanation hes a lot more understanding about it although still very.. confused. Are you not worried about falling over in your sleep? Or even just waking up uncomfortable...? That aside how do you even.. sleep standing up like that, and how long were you like that..? He just.. accepts it
BLOODY PAINTER
Very neutral about it, but he does entertain you with questions when he catches you awake in the morning. It doesnt matter where you sleep, hes not going to disturb you unless you get in his way. But considering hes claimed a corner in your home for himself and his belongings, you don't have to worry about that! Despite claiming to not mind all that much you still seem to wake up in bed despite falling asleep under it. He'll never admit to moving you, but theres no other person who could have done it.. he also wont ever say it but he does sometimes want you to lay next to him
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privitivium · 2 months
Note
hii, hope ure doing alright. could u do a bully yan who’s like trying to deny their feelings for reader but can’t help but feel so desperate for them. maybe make it dark?
sure pal. i love yandere bullies/delinquents.... hooray! sorry for any mistakes :3 request more bully/delinquent stuff its my favorite !!!! Mwah!!! edited the tags! thanks anon!!
domtop yandere bully x subbot loner reader!
both amab! cw;; degredation, noncon - drugging, hints of stalking, perverted thoughts in general... mentions of spreading nudes but nothing is spread besides cheeks
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he couldn't stand you. simply put! you fucking disgusted him. what's your problem, acting all haughty (ㅡshy) and disgusted (ㅡanxious) everytime he tries to talk to you-? it cant be because he teases you - it's friendly teasing! - you ruin everything with your sensitivity. it's your own fault that he fucks with you. trying so hard to get you to be isolated so that no one would wanna be your friend - leaving you all by your lonesome for him to swoop by and pick you up like a prince charming... that will never happen. you'd like that though, right? ㅡ you get all flustered to the point where you cant even talk when he's apprehending you and fucking with you. torturing you... pulling at your clothes, flicking you, gripping your bicep a little too hard to leave bruises but not yet outwardly fucking you up... can't you commend him for that?
knee bouncing at a rapid pace as he sits at his desk a few rows from yours - trying so hard to ignore your soft laughter, sitting with some guy... you were both so painfully idiot loser nerds. it only makes sense that you would try to befriend someone as pathetic as you, huh?! gritting his teeth, hands over his ears - fidgeting in place. trying to resist the urge to stand up and toss his desk at you. what an embarrassment, letting himself think this way about some fucking nobody?!?! he hates it. he doesn't even like you. he hates it!!
ㅡhates the way he thinks about your... disgusting body and what your... fingers would feel like in his mouth... what his dick would feel like all snug inside you... h-how your... chest would feel... under his fingertips... his heart aching painfully in his chest at the horrible thoughts in his mind, feeling breathless as he holds his arms crossed over his front in attempts to comfort himself - glaring at you from afar as you sit, undisturbed and obviously enjoying the time he spends away from you.
gods, you're horrible. someone needs to teach you a lesson on how to not affect peoples thoughts... hn. isn't that right? shaking a pill bottle in hand faintly as he watches you slink in the direction of your home after a rough day of not picking on you - he knew your guardians work schedule this week, so of course ... this would be such a fine night to show you who's boss, huh? of course you don't get a say in this, disgusting freak. waiting til dawn before lurking around your neighborhood. you weren't one to hangout with anybody, nor go anywhere. you were too... nervous for any of that stuff... the thought of it makes him all giddy - for you to depend on him?! sloppily tattooed hand itching to be shoved down the front of his pants and paint your window white-!
entering your home was so damn easy too - it's like you knew what he was doing and wanted this to happen? keeping the spare key under a plethora of rocks near the front door - it was tedious having to look for it at first, but he's sure he'll get his good karma...
all the lights were off and it wasn't as hard as he thought to navigate through the darkness of your house... nearly giggling to himself as he opens the door to your room, there you lay, sleeping in your bed against the wall. nearing your unconscious form.. dick spraining against his jeans about the thoughts of what he'll finally fucking do to youㅡgods, it felt so good... to be able to touch you like this in the comfort of your own room. i mean, yeah, you were crying and struggling now, but... you kinda dont matter right now... climbing over you, so heavy-! holding you down... your struggling and crying out form - shhh... slapping his hand over your mouth and forcing a pill down your throat - the painful ache of tears striking your eyes and gagging on his fingers made you all the more disgusted with yourself.
ㅡenough of all that "how did you get inside my house?" nonsense... you're kinda ruining the mood. he's kidding, he really likes when you cry. lifting his fingers to your eyes - you jerk your head away, chest heaving and nearly pissing your pants at the reality of your bully inside your bedroomㅡyou were just trying to sleep; heart pounding against your ribcage and feeling nauseous and weak - what the fuck did you swallow? you're all... fucked up. lazy and slow... but blood shoots to your cock as though you took some kind of nyquil and you're heaving, trying so hard to form a coherent sentence;; "ㅡi don't... don't touch me... f-fuck, please, ple-ease.." you were so scared of him... don't worry, silly...
he laughs, shrugging off his jacket and kicking off his shoes - having come off of you... knowing you didnt have the strength to run. "shut up, will you? youre always so damn whiny..." he huffs in a mildly humorous tone, before yanking the blanket off your body... your pitiful frame jolting in surprise, but not doing much else besides laying there with an aching tent pitched in your stupid ass pajama pants...
the blanket discarded on the floor - lamp turned on dimly - and he resumes his position so eagerly hunched over you, taking in your flushed form in the dim lighting. shoving your shirt up and yanking your pants - boxers down to your knees, sleeping in clothes instead of in boxers like a normal person? youre so weird... planting sloppy, messy kisses all over your naked chest as you whine and whimper like a damn injured little dog - as he humps into your thigh and nearly cumming as he sucks on your hard little nipple - feeling the bud react to his elicit licking... mmfgh. your cock... so pretty.. flushed with neediness and leaking against his clothes. he's never going to wash these clothes...
ㅡ"don't... don' wantt this. theyre gonna come home... n' ur gonna be all .. in trouble..." complaining in a slurring voice... ur so silly. he cant get enough of you.
"why's your dick all hard? it should be soft if you really dont want this, no?" he snickers as he sits up - glancing down at the mess all over his front as you whine from loss of contact. "stupid fucking idiot... so damn irritating. acting like you don't fucking want this when you parade around the halls - acting so shy... hn."
taking the time to slide two digits up your erected dick... the feeling of his fingers along your prick sends electricity up your spine, butterflies swarming your tummy and you faintly fear you were going to throw up on him in such an embarrassing moment - you shake your head weakly, drool dribbling passed your chin which you try to wipe away, he didnt find the use in restraining you, being much stronger than you anyway - "nn-nuh uh.. i don't.." your trembling hands going to grip his wrist to try and tug him away... him, easily shaking away your hands from his... not that he really minded at all - you were a weak little thing, and he didnt mind being touched. what a sight! you, all for him... nearly sobbing... so cute. he cant help himself... dick aching, still snug in his boxers..
"does it hurt?" trailing his hand down your bitten, hickey-ridden chest - grinning softly at your whimper, feeling his face set aflame at your little noises and the mere feeling of you underneath his fingertipsㅡ"n-no..." you answer, voice choked up and breathless as though you've been doing all the heavy lifting.. so typicalㅡ"it will," he murmurs, without elaborating. reveling in your mild surprise - it's the best you can show while fucked out. he's sure to make you feel so good that you won't tell. you won't right?? of course not! fingerfucking you, cooing at you for being a stupid little whore sucking his fingers in your "tight little hole" before he has the gall to shove his much fatter cock inside you... wanting you to feel the sting of your walls stretched further - feel the fucking pain!
fucking you into your bed - ignoring your mute crying and whining as it only fueled him, fingers slick in his cum shoved in your mouth - telling you he was recording, but there was no phone nor camera placed... he just liked the feeling of your hole clamping down on his meaty cock in fright.. squirming against his bulky body. so futile, ur not going anywhere silly... nor are you telling anyone! he's gonna blackmail you, show everyone how much you love your big body bully thrusting his prick in your lazily stretched hole. it's shown all over your face... lips parted and drooling on your pillow, tears sliding down your cheeks, eyes rolled back and gasping every time his hips slap into yours.
he.. loves taking pictures of you while in this vulnerable state... for safekeeping, he pets your cheek. he'd love to see that embarrassed face, flushed with tears and hunched over in a pathetic form of cowering if he were to spread them all over the school... but they were his pictures. only for him to ogle at and to use for masturbating. his!! but oh... he... wants to see the fear in your eyes seeing your "friends" laughing at your whorish body messy with cum with a cock limp and leaking in-between your pretty thighs... but no! that's his cock to look at !!! augh, the dilemma..
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ghcstao3 · 3 months
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Pirates!Ghoap au (I can't stop thinking about it - or about any other au but this one is so dear to me)
Hope you have a nice day ☺️
sort of inspired by the jack sparrow and angelica scene in potc stranger tides. because that is where my mind goes when Pirates
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Ghost has spent many years cultivating his reputation as a revered, feared pirate, and for just as long he's had several people try to challenge that. Try to challenge him. Of course, they never succeed in such endeavours, but this is much different. This is a first.
No one has ever tried to impersonate him before.
His crew had just made port in one of their more frequent haunts, having barely gotten the chance to step foot on land before an old acquaintance is greeting Ghost with surprise—everyone thought he had already arrived, had already been drinking and picking off the idiots trying to fight him. Had already been spreading rumours of his next voyage; a teasing invitation, a dare for anyone to follow.
But obviously, such is not the case. It can't be, when Ghost is here, fresh off his ship, standing among the few men and women in this world that he trusts—not an ale nor scrap in sight.
So, rightfully confused, Ghost orders his crew to hang back while he investigates, and puts an end to whatever charade this may be.
Despite the piece of skull that obscures the lower half of Ghost's face—all part of his reputation, mostly, and he's glad to have it spark debate on whether or not the skull is real, and whether or not he's human—it's relatively easy to go undetected as he makes his way through the port village, his presence entirely unnoticed as he slips into the tavern that caters most to his... profession.
And just as it's not difficult to sneak around, it isn't hard to spot his impersonator; they're the centre of attention at the tavern tonight, and though Ghost can commend the guts it takes to attempt such an act, he's honestly offended that so many people believed it was really him.
Though, with as drunk as the crowd is, and if he squints just enough, Ghost supposes he could see how the mistake was made. Even still, Ghost isn't particularly pleased with the situation.
He hovers at the sidelines, melting into the shadows as he waits for the fake "Ghost" to catch his eye.
Ghost knows the moment they do, when he watches as they utter some excuse and make their leave. Ghost only follows with his eyes, at first, before deciding to push away from the wall, skirting along the edges of the crowd toward to the door the fake "Ghost" had exited through.
It leads to the back alley wedged between other buildings and darkened cobblestone streets. It reeks of refuse, and it's to no surprise of Ghost's own when moments after the door shuts behind him, the point of a cutlass is threatening his jugular.
He doesn't flinch, only shifts his gaze disinterestedly toward the owner of the sabre.
"Don't think you have much of a right to be doing that," Ghost drawls.
His imitator doesn't move for a long moment, cutlass held steady at Ghost's throat. Even in the dim light, Ghost can tell their eyes are blue, and suddenly he's again offended that this disguise was actually passed off as him.
Then the sword is finally lowered and sheathed. The fake's own tricorne and mask are removed (the skull is fake, Ghost thinks, no question about it), revealing a hideous hairstyle and a charming, shark-like grin.
"Was hopin' I might eventually get to meet the real Ghost," the man says, his voice tinged with genuine excitement.
Ghost... hadn't expected that.
"How long have you been doing this for?" Ghost demands, now irritated more than anything.
The man shrugs carelessly, casually, not in the slightest bit deterred. "Not long enough to damage your reputation, if that's what you're worried about. If anything, I've strengthened your reputation," he insists. Then he's offering his hand out to Ghost. "I'm John, by the way."
Ghost barely spares the gesture a glance. "I don't care. Why?"
John at least has the decency to act sheepish this time. "I had a proposition for you. Needed to get your attention somehow."
Ghost raises an eyebrow. His hand instinctually drifts to the pommel of his own sword. "And?"
John's gaze flickers to the movement and he hesitates, but only minutely. He then lifts his chin and rolls back his shoulders, and Ghost can almost see how John could have the gall to pull off the charade he had for who knows how long. "I want to join your cr—"
"No."
John scowls. "I wasn't finished," he snaps. "I want to join your crew. And if you let me, I can get you to that fountain of youth I hear you've been searching for. I swear it."
It's Ghost's turn to frown beneath his mask. Why would John want to help him for the measly reward of sailing with Ghost and his shipmates? Sure, some have called it an honour—but in exchange for guidance to a reward so mythical? There must be a catch. It doesn't make sense otherwise.
Ghost narrows his eyes, fingers curling around the pommel. "How can I trust you to make good on that promise?"
That toothy grin reappears, more mischievous in nature than Ghost is comfortable with. It warns him of trouble.
"S'pose there's only one way to find out," John muses. "Otherwise I might just continue what I've been doing. Maybe hitch a ride to another island, pretend to be you some more. Hurt everything you've built up. I've fooled enough people so far."
It takes a lot of restraint not to pull out his sword, and fight John right in the alleyway. But the man's right, as deranged as he may be—it's either bring him along, or continue on a fruitless journey to a place that may not even exist.
He doesn't want to accept the deal, but he can't afford to have John ruining his life's work, either.
With great reluctance, Ghost agrees to let John join his crew—he figures it should only be temporary, at best.
"I find out you're lying, I'll gut you," Ghost hisses, only once it's been settled. "I've yet to see a man capable of swimming with his intestines hanging out. Maybe you'd be a first."
John's grin transforms into something else, something Ghost can't quite place.
He hums. "Maybe. But I don't plan on finding out," John says. He nudges Ghost away from the tavern's back door before pushing it open, gesturing his arm out as if beckoning the pirate to enter. Then in a lowered voice, a tone Ghost isn't quite sure how to feel about, John purrs, "Captain."
Ghost is already beginning to think he had made the wrong choice.
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queenendless · 26 days
Text
💗 Cafe Time 💗
A/n: Imma count this as an April Fool's prank cause it's kinda nonsense.
AU centric where JJK cast here are chibis, as is everyone else in this world, and you are the sole normal sized human there.
Cute fluffy filled crack nonsense that is short as hell and cause I've wanted to write chibi stuff for a long time.
Itafushi, NobaMaki, and HaiNana crumbs here and there but SatoSugu x GN!Reader in the end.
DON'T REPOST, PLAGARIZE, COPY, EDIT, TRANSLATE AND/OR STEAL MY FANFIC CONTENT. IF YOU ENJOY MY CONTENT THEN REBLOG, LIKE, COMMENT & FOLLOW PLEASE AND THANK YOU.
AND HAPPY APRIL FOOL'S! 💌
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The tale of a regular sized normie getting teleported to a Japan where everyone but themselves is chibi sized.
Their resisting negation to cursed energy that in the strongest in the country leads to your immediate discovery and recruitment into a place to stay as well as work by a burly mid aged bearded man with shades.
Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College Cafe.
Your newfound workplace and home. Where you met some regulars that quickly became your favorites.
“L/n-san~!” Dear Yuji lifted the cookie atop him, smothered in whipped cream with a bright smile and a wave reserved for you. “Eat me~! Just kidding~!”
Your pinky finger gently ruffled his salmon haired head. “Your teasing is very much warranted, you precious boi.”
In the parfait cup filled with ice cream, whipped cream and berries, a storm cloud raged atop Megumi's brooding head. “Get me outta here or I will shatter this glass.”
Yuji's face became pale with doom, hissing at you conspiratory. “He ain't kidding.”
You reached down and pulled out said grumpy Megumi who took the shinigami dog shaped candy, bashfully thanked you, and shyly pecked you on the cheek, compelling you to smooch him right on the nose. “Favorite tsundere here.”
You dropped him down on table level for Yuji to smother his boi in a good old bear hug; his infectious smile causing his emo bae to blush and ease into it and smile back.
“Maki-san~! Nibble on me~!” Nobara sung suggested cozied smack dabbed in her macaron.
“You idiot. Why did you have to admit that out loud? Here of all places?” Maki murmured, bashfully blushing, looking away amiss her red bean filled pancake sandwich.
“Maki-san! I love you~!” An unashamed Nobara rushed outta her macaron to tackle Maki into a bean pasted draped hug.
“Here.” You lifted off their pancake cover before handing a decent sized handkerchief to the girls as you passed by, earning winks of thanks from the pair before their stained faces grew messier as they commended a make out session under said hankie.
“Konbu! Tsuna Tsuna! Mentaiko!” The orange topped Toge waves eagerly at you from his perched spot on his own cupcake.
“I see you my boi and I've missed you too.” Your offered finger was taken by the rice ball speaking boi, swinging him to land before Panda lounging in the middle of a smore treat.
“Give me a hand, little buddy, tall buddy.”
“Takana!” Toge's mini hand and your long finger were more than enough to pull the fuzzy cursed doll out, though the chocolate sauce and marshmallows stuck to his fur.
You magically pulled out a wet rag to clean him up, humming at the now pristine baby. “My gift to you, my precious Panda.”
“L/n-san! Lift off please and thank you~!”
You picked up Yu's back collar to place him atop his fruit sandwich for him to slide down the creamy path, bumping right into Nanami. “Sandwich slide, hazah~!”
“Why must you condone this nonsense?” Kento commented through a mouthful of his subway sandwich, lightly bopping Haibara on his noggin as an attempted scolding.
“He's your partner. You tell me.” Your sassiness made the stern Nanami purse his lips at you in defiance but had Haibara chortling to his further annoyance, firmly tugging on his cheeks to gargle those noises, only amusing his partner more, finally doing here and now to kiss him just to keep him quiet.
Haibara's face glowed all smitten like. “Aw I love you too – !”
“Hush you and eat.” Nanami couldn't suppress a grin as he ate his subway with his favorite boi.
“Job well done, fellow yaoi buddy.” Shoko snorted at what she just saw, lounging in her lemon tea sponge cake, raising her small palm for you to give a carefully slow high five indeed.
“Keep your hands to yourself, assassin.” Riko narrowed dagger eyes at the scarred man across the room, cherry atop her head as she floated in a literal ice cream soda float.
“Riko-sama, be cautious, now.” Misato cautioned her, doing her best to stay blended within her fruity spread.
“I think he's retired from that lifestyle now.” You assured the pair, settling their nerves down when you handed them a plush doll with two eyes, eight legs and horns for them to cuddle and ride on.
“Suguru~ They're so pretty~!” Satoru plopped red bean paste sweetness into his mouth as he watched you move to and fro throughout the cafe.
Suguru munched on the cherry that sat atop with him on the cupcake. “Despite the major height difference, I will admit they look docile.”
“In that case – !” Gojo got down on one knee. “Marry us please~!”
Geto nearly choked. “Toru, we're still dating!”
Gojo got up to kiss him fully on the lips. “Well, we've practically been wedded since day one so …”
Geto's eyes crinkled with tender mirth, humming as he kissed back. “Can't argue with that logic.”
Grabbing his hand, the albino of the two floated them both on up high to reach you. “Plus, a poly ship is very sexy~”
The fact that the iconic strongest pair landed on either shoulder to kiss you simultaneously on your cheeks touched your heart.
“Aw, I – MMPH!”
The super human chibi that is Toji threw his bagel like a Frisbee disk right into your mouth. “Oi. You. This donut ain't cuttin’ it for me. Get me some beer, huh?”
“Dad!” Megumi snapped on your behalf.
“He is a beast.” Yuji anxiously sweated at the alarmingly impressive feat.
“I wanna duel him even more now.” Maki, a fellow non-cursed fighter, got fired up after peaking outside to witness his simple yet stellar stunt.
“Eh!? We already called dibs!” Gojo flared up, steam coming outta his ears.
“Hands off, monkey.” Geto emanated pure unfiltered hatred for the brute killer.
All three men had their eyes cast in shadow as literal sparks of agitation flew between them, ruining the cozy vibe of the cafe.
Able to chew and swallow that bagel up, you could speak again. “Knock yourself out, you beast.” Whisking out a jug of booze outta the blue, you knew the superhuman killer could take it, his smug self already chugging it down with one hand.
“Physically gifted,” Yuji and Maki breathed out in amazement.
“As I was gonna say,” you cupped your hands out for GoGe to sit on, your e/c eyes sparkling down at them, “Of course I'll marry you two. Size and all.”
A giggling Satoru and an amused Suguru are over the moon with your acceptance, bringing them close enough for them to smooch your lips in unison.
However later, you got an earful of “Goddamn” from your chibi sized boss at giving someone alcohol at his fine establishment.
But, you could tolerate it.
All these cuties make it all worth it.
Especially your new beaus.
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johns-prince · 5 months
Text
I Don't Know (Oh Johnny Johnny)
After listening to this "forgotten" song by John and Paul on repeat, with excruciating scrutiny of trying my darndest to make out the lyrics.
This song is approximately recorded around 1960, could have even been 1959, and I've read it was apparently recorded when the group was going by the Silver Beatles. Also, apparently recorded at Paul's house? I'm not sure.
Whether you think it's just them fooling about, simple improvising and nothing at all, I think if they were going to take the effort to record it, it had to mean something.
Even if some or half of it is "improv," it still sounds like a conversation between the two.
It's not unlike them to use music to communicate and express personal thoughts and feelings, wants. There's also nobody else there... it's just them.
Just a couple of the clearer lyrics from Paul at the start:
"Hey now Johnny Johnny, oh Johnny Johnny, oh Johnny Johnny, oh Johnny Johnny, Oh God, Johnny boy, how are we gonna tell them?"
"Oh Johnny boy you wore me out"
It also sounds in one line Paul is singing, "Well you got me!"
Then John starts up.
And I know some people claim the start for John here is him saying "Well little boy" but I have to say that doesn't match up with what I've heard.
Doesn't sound anything like boy, but it does sound like John is saying, "Oh little darling, packing my shoes.. " can't make the following bit before, "cuz I'm losin' you"
"I'm going to see my sister soon. She don't want to see me I don't know really what I'm gonna do what I'm gonna do."
Now you've got Paul again:
"Well Johnny, Johnny, Johnny, when I call you Johnny, well Johnny Johnny oh Johnny, when I'm calling you..."
"Well I don't know what I'm going to tell them..." okay, these lyrics are really difficult to decipher. Maybe it's just my brains attempt at conjuring coherent words from the incoherent sounds, but, what follows this sounds ALMOST sounds as if Paul is telling him what he'll tell the fellas, about thoughts regarding John (I've still got thoughts of you/I'll still have thoughts of you/or, I'll still vouch for you)
Then the closest thing to ever getting to hear what Paul McCartney sounds like when pleading:
"Please Johnny, please Johnny"
John's response is:
"Well I'll tell the fellas I'm traveling with you"
And funnily enough, it's John saying, "I don't know what I'm gonna to do when I tell my mother we're gonna leave town." Of course if this is recorded in 1958/1960, Julia is no longer around...
Paul reiterates this though, confirming it, "Yeah we're gonna leave town."
Paul continues with this dogged line, I can catch a couple of "we gotta leave, we just gotta leave, we gotta leave right now."
Then—
"Take the next bus out of town, then we won't let nobody down!"
It's a conversation about getting out, breaking out, starting over just the two of them... With some interesting mentions of family and friends finding out, about something, with them, between them? And disappointing everyone, causes family to turn them away.
The reason couldn't have just been that they were wanting to become famous musicians together, right? I don't think that alone could be it considering Mimi nor Jim, or Julia or John's sisters, ever turned them away or shunned them because of this dream they were already chasing by this time.
The song progresses to where it sounds as if John has reservations about leaving, he's not as confident about the plan as originally thought.
Paul keeps singing the "we gotta leave, get outta town." I caught a "don't hold me down."
John starts repeating "I don't know" which results in Paul repeatedly calling out, "Oh Johnny Johnny Johnny oh Johnny Johnny Johnny Johnny..." Again, it's almost like pleading, "How could you not know? We have to go, we have to leave town, you can't tell me “I don't know” now. Don't do this now."
Now, I will say this, the full lyrical interpretations of this song, while I commend others for trying too, hold too many issues for me to agree upon their validity. I don't catch any "I love yous" and the such, but I think what I have caught, and how John and Paul are singing to each other and with each other here, alone, as teenage boys chasing their dream, is enough to convince me still that this song is so intimately about them, their relationship, and what they dreamed of doing together.
Running off, getting out and creating music together. Running away together. The song technically foreshadowing this honeymoon-esque trip of John and Paul doing just that when John turned 21, and with 100 quid took Paul on a trip.
Two teenage boys not knowing what to do, lamenting over something, something getting out to their family that would cause them to be turned away and to cause disappointment. I don't necessarily attribute that to them chasing the dream of becoming famous musicians together, but it could be. It could be many different things. Could just be me overanalyzing...
The end of the song is a lot more scrambled, difficult to make out, but it sounds like both John and Paul are back to both agreeing to the fact they need to get out, leave town, together.
Also imagining the fact they probably looked something close to this while thumping around and singing this song in Paul's house, alone together, gives me feelings.
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coralinnii · 1 year
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I love the villain scorned by the world feat: Azul genre: drama note: continuation of reincarnated into a new world as the bad guy AU Azul ver, not gender specific reader, no pronouns used, use of non-canon characters (Neveah), 1.4k word count
I know people wanted to see more of the female and male lead’s downfall but Azul’s story has so much potential for drama that I just can’t skip it. This is more of an interaction between villain/ess!reader and the female lead and things are getting interesting. There’s more to the story
Is it funny that the more I write Azul’s villain/ess!reader, the more they’re starting to be like how I think Jade would act…just sassier
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You became the talk of the kingdom for quite some time and you weren’t surprised. You had your engagement annulled and disowned from your family but you managed to disgrace your former fiancé the prince and his lover with their affair. Instead of a fallen noble, you became a surviving noble who became a victim of unfaithful love. All according to your plan.
Free from your downfall, you find yourself living in comfort in your own house close to Azul. The royal family and your own parents have requested your attendance but you declined their letters, playing your victim card to the fullest.
“Oh no, how could I possibly return back to the palace where I had my heart broken?” “My family disowned me. The least I could do is respect their wishes” Good riddance to that stifling environment.
You did notice that you never once received a letter from the young prince, the male lead though you would scoff and burn it if he did anyway. You figured that he was too prideful to address the affair with you. He wasn’t regretful for his actions nor was he regretful he got caught. The original series seriously had a bad cast.
Though it could also be that since the disgraceful act the male lead was sentenced to house arrest to “reflect on his actions”. From your sources, he’s just been angry all this time, especially when he hasn’t been able to meet with his beloved.
Speaking of which, the female lead has been busy through all this fiasco. Crying and spinning the tale of how she was a helpless victim in this mess as well, saying how she was clueless throughout everything since being so new to the noble society.
Please, Jade has better acting skills than she does. You supposed you could commend her for her guts.
Like how she was gutsy enough to visit you in your own home.
“I’m so glad you’re willing to meet with me” Neveah smiled but you didn’t return the smile, choosing to sip your tea.
“You should be glad, considering I probably would have ignored you” you replied indifferently. “It just so happens that I wanted to ask you a few questions”
“Oh? What kind of questions?~” That exaggerated childlike tone of hers really rubbed you the wrong way.
Fighting through your irritation, you questioned her “I’ve heard that you’ve been attempting to meet with Azul for the past few days. Curious since you two aren’t even acquaintances”
“But, we are! Me and Azul are really close~”
“That’s not what Azul says, and you will address him as Count Ashengrotto” you rebuked her claim, a little snippier than you wished but your patience is not unlimited and the ditzy lady is truly testing you.
Azul mentioned his troubles to you when you asked about the visible stress on his face. Apparently he has unfortunately been bumping into the female lead at his businesses and she has been trying to interact with him, even offering to have tea with her…in his own restaurant.
“Tricking her would be akin to taking candy from a child, but even a child is more worthwhile than speaking with her” Azul sighed in aggravation with his brows furrowed. You kept a sympathetic expression but you felt a sense of joy over the silvernette’s words. There’s nothing wrong in secretly taking glee in your crush sharing your disdain over the same irritance, right?
“Perhaps you should take a short rest, Azul” you suggested, “This stress will do you no good and you can’t afford to make mistakes due to your clouded mind”
Azul sighed but nodded “you may have a point”
“Would you like to rest on my lap? I wouldn’t mind after all”
“You-!”
Refocusing your attention away from your memories, you sharpened your gaze at your uninvited guest. “Considering Azul is someone dear to me, I worry about your intentions in approaching him”
Then, the situation took an interesting turn.
The young lady in front of you, undeterred from your stare, smiled brightly which some could compare to something angelic…to some. But her words did not match her innocent appearance.
“Are you worried that I would approach Azul the way you did?”
You didn’t break your expression but you must admit you were close to. Is she insinuating…
“Isn’t it weird that the famously lovesick fiancé of the prince suddenly changed?” Neveah questioned, putting on a confused pout on her lips. “No explanations, like a whole new person. The story has changed”
Oh, how interesting.
“So you’re interested in me” you finally smiled back “What can I say, I realized one day this was not my love story so I decided to change my ways”
“Is that so?~”
“Yes. But back to the topic,” you took control back of the conversation “You haven’t explained your reason for approaching the count?”
Whatever calculating look you thought you saw in the female lead disappeared as she smiled even brighter than before, fully committing to her innocent appearance.
“I just felt so bad in interfering with your engagement that I’ve been avoiding the prince in respect for you, not even replying to his letters. Then maybe you can reinstate your engagement with your beloved”
My beloved? You truly had difficulty not outright laughing out loud over that idea. But it was an interesting tidbit the female lead gave, knowing that the prince has been sending her letters meant that those two are still in contact. Just because she said she doesn’t reply, she could still be reading them.
“I’ve been trying really hard to forget the prince so I’ve been visiting the Monstro Lounge to get away” she continued her story, managing a tear from her eyes. “And I’ve been seeing the count there so I thought we could be friends”
So this is how she’s been fooling the masses. You’re willing to admit that she’s definitely a better actress than you initially give her with her sweet words and unassuming “innocence”. But you knew the story she conveniently left out.
Breaking the engagement between the royal family and your (ex)family of duke status, the male lead has been in hot water ever since as his reputation has affected him to the point that his right to the throne is in jeopardy. Azul on the other hand has been making a name for himself and his value in the kingdom is very attractive to many pursuers.
“How shamelessly greedy of you, Ms. Protagonist” you smirked at the female lead who continues to put on a sweet facade, you commend her ambitions at least. She really wants her happy ending.
But you’re done with this conversation already. You got your answers and have no interest in keeping company with this eyesore for any longer.
“That’s all I need to hear, I believe it’s time for you to leave” With that, you waved to your guards who were standing by to escort the lady to the door.
“Wait, then will you take the prince back? And convince the families to restore the engagement” Neveah quickly asked you before she was ushered. Ah, so that’s why she came to see you. You never did bother to ask…or care.
“Firstly, I don’t have the habit of picking up trash I already tossed out” you calmly stood up from your seat, smoothing down your clothes of creases, and gave a smile towards the female lead before speaking again “Secondly, I’m simply respecting what you said to me. Do you remember? You couldn’t stop from loving who you want”
You watched Neveah stutter and stumble, trying to find the right words but you weren’t interested anymore so you proceeded to leave the room first with some parting words before your guards walk the female lead out of your home.
“I’m letting you love the prince like you said you wanted, and I’ll love who I want, and I intend to fight”
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moonlightspencie · 5 months
Text
like the gardens of babylon
part 11 of ‘the sweetest con’
Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!Reader
Word Count: 1.7k
A/N: some suggestive content at the end, but nothing explicit!
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Walking into the bullpen had never felt so nerve-wracking. Usually, if I felt any anxieties at all, it had to do with a case. Or at least work. As it should, considering this was my workplace, after all.
But, this time, all the nerves stemmed from my concerns that word would get out before I had the chance to address it all myself. After JJ had seen us kiss last week, every day felt like a new opportunity for everyone to find out. Each day only got worse. Any time someone looked at me for too long, I started sweating a little.
But, of course, my darling girl couldn’t care less. She was convinced that JJ wouldn’t say a word, and I had to commend her faith in our friends. I, however, knew that the thrill of a scandal could break down even the strongest barriers on our team. Especially when it came to all of our love lives.
As much as I love my team, I knew they weren’t always the most… discreet.
I could see the lingering looks from JJ anytime Y/N snuck into my office for our usual lunchtime “date”. It felt like a matter of time before it escalated.
And escalate it did.
I snuck out of my office after lunch that afternoon only to see a few pairs of eyes on me, and a lot of whispering. I narrowed my eyes at Derek, Penelope, and Y/N.
“Something you’d like to share?” I asked, noticing they didn’t look away when I’d caught them.
“No—”
Penelope cut Y/N off. “Teasing our little ray of sunshine, here.”
I merely raised my brows in question, making quick eye contact with the aforementioned “ray of sunshine.” She looked at me with pleading eyes, though I couldn’t quite decipher what she was trying to ask of me.
“It’s nothing, Hotch,” she shook her head.
“Nothing?” Morgan questioned. “Mmm mm. Lies.”
“What is it, then?”
Morgan smirked. “Something goin’ on with you two that you’d like to share?”
I froze up, though I tried playing it off. I hoped it was convincing enough.
“Like what, exactly?”
Penelope blushed. “We were merely asking her if your little daily lunch dates meant anything.”
I looked at Y/N briefly. Apparently, that was a mistake. Derek stood abruptly, closing in on me.
“Wait, seriously?” he turned to look at Y/N, who looked, frankly, like she’d been caught red-handed. “Seriously?”
“Oh my god—” Garcia squealed.
I’m sure my face going red didn’t help our case as I asked the two of them to keep it down. Y/N stood, standing next to me as I attempted to fend off questions from the other two.
“Guys,” she raised her hands to calm them. “This is still kind of new. We weren’t really ready to tell anyone yet, so…”
“Oh,” Penelope said, her voice lowered.
“Just please don’t tell anyone else. For our sake.”
“Sure thing, mama,” Derek said, nodding.
Penelope smiled softly. “Wouldn’t dream of trying to ruin this. I am so, absolutely excited, but I promise I will zip my lips just for you, sugar.”
“Thanks, Pen,” she smiled back at her.
She looked at me, looking a little apologetic. I gave her a raised brow and half a smile.
“Sorry. I thought we’d be able to keep this secret a little while longer,” she said quietly.
“Not your fault. I think we’re both pretty bad at hiding our feelings,” I sighed. Then, I looked at the others. “Thank you for your… Discretion with this. We’ll tell the others soon, we just wanted to keep this—”
“Yours?” Morgan asked, practically finishing my sentence.
“Yeah,” I nodded once. “Exactly.”
He smirked. “Can’t blame you for wanting to keep her all to yourself. I can respect that.”
I rolled my eyes, hiding a smile. “Right. Well, I need coffee if I’m going to get through the rest of today.”
They nodded, waving me off. I let out a deep breath as I turned. Three coworkers knew already, and I wondered how long we could actually keep things quiet before I had to come clean with everyone.
Though, after that conversation, part of me couldn’t wait to finally show her off as mine.
I got my coffee, heading back to my office to get through all of the work I had set aside for the day. It passed incredibly slowly. Her sweet face in my doorway at the end of the day made up for it, though.
I sat up a little straighter, an unintentional smile on my face.
“Hi,” I greeted.
“Hey. Getting late,” she said. “We’re picking up Jack in an hour, so pack it up, love.”
I snorted a laugh. She walked in, shutting the door behind her. I packed up as she had requested, standing to accept a soft kiss from her near the edge of my desk.
“He’s been asking about you, you know?” I said.
She smiled, still holding onto my waist in a hug. She pressed a small kiss to my cheek.
“Yeah?”
I hummed an affirmation. “Every night I’ve talked to him since we went to the zoo. He’s been looking forward to tonight.”
She smiled, and my heart warmed. “Let’s go get him then, yeah?”
We left the building, heading off to my apartment. I put away my things, and we both quickly changed clothes before getting in my car and heading to Haley’s. Of course, she stayed in the car when I went to get Jack, though I’d be surprised if she couldn’t still see the dirty looks being shot at her from the front door.
I ignored the hostility, too wrapped up in the plans we’d made for the night to care too much about Haley’s attitude. Jack practically squealed when he saw Y/N in the car, shooting a million questions at her the entire ride back the apartment. One in particular had me smiling like an idiot:
“Are you and daddy gonna get married?”
She laughed a little. “I don’t know buddy. We’ll have to wait and see, yeah?”
“Yeah,” he shrugged.
She looked at me, almost panicked by the question, but it only made my heart flutter in my chest. I knew it was probably far too soon to consider marriage, but I didn’t hate the idea of it happening some day. The more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea.
Our night was spent in front of the TV, snacks and drinks set on the coffee table, all of us sat in a pile of pillows and couch cushions at Jack’s request. As much as I’d like to say that I set most of it up, it seemed that no matter what I tried to do, she’d get to it first. I would have been offended if she wasn’t so excited to do everything she was doing.
Jack cuddled up to my side for a while as we watched the tail end of Monsters Inc. My arm was around his tiny shoulders, but soon I felt him shrugging me off. I looked down in confusion as he started leaning into Y/N instead, leaving me in the dust. I furrowed my brow, looking at her with offense.
“You stole my child.”
“Maybe he just likes the girl who gave him candy a little more than the dad who tried giving him pretzels.”
Jack giggled, rest his head against her arm. I tried to look annoyed, but it was hard to do with this sight right in front of me. My previous worries about them being together seemed so stupid now. Of course he’d love her.
“Still,” I raised a brow in challenge. “He was mine first.”
“Still love you, daddy,” he said, giving me a cheeky smile.
I couldn’t hold back my grin. “I love you more.”
He was out like a light by the time the credits were rolling, and she allowed me to take him to his bedroom and tuck him in. I kissed his forehead, wishing all my nights could end like this.
I wandered back into the living room to find her already cleaning up.
“Babe, I can worry about that tomorrow.”
“Babe, huh?” she smirked.
I felt my cheeks heat up. “Just… Shut up.”
She laughed. “You know, I can help pick up the mess I made, babe.”
I sighed, rolling my eyes for good measure. I followed her into the kitchen with two cups in my hands as she took care of a few other dishes. However, I set mine down quickly, plans on my mind that had nothing to do with cleaning.
I wrapped my arms around her waist from where she stood at the sink, pressing a few soft kisses up her neck until my lips were at her ear.
“Why don’t we go to bed?”
“Aaron,” she warned, though the way she leaned into me made that warning much less severe.
“I’ve missed you.”
“You see me every day.”
I groaned, turning her around. “You know that’s not what I mean.”
She bit her lip. “You’re ridiculous.”
I smirked, leaning in before she could think too hard about my plan of… Redirection. Her lips met mine as if it was her plan all along, kissing me softly, but not without passion. Her hands trailed up my arms until they were linking behind my neck. I took that as my chance.
I patted her hip, and she jumped into my arms. I hooked my arms under her, carrying her to the bedroom and dropping her on the bed unceremoniously. She looked at me with that little mischievous glint in her eyes as I pulled off my tshirt. I crawled up over her on the bed, though she quickly pulled me down on top of her.
“You’re a troublemaker,” she mumbled, kissing my neck.
“I think you like it that way.”
“Never said I didn’t.”
She nipped at my skin, moving her lips back to mine. My hands found their way under her shirt as we moved up towards the headboard. Her back arched into my touch, exciting me all the more as her hands ran all over me.
“Just promise me one thing?”
I nodded. “Anything.”
She pulled off her top, tossing it somewhere. “Don’t be too loud or you’ll wake up Jack.“
I scoffed a laugh as she smirked again, flipping us over so that she was on top of me.
“Sure,” she said, looking down at me. “Go ahead and laugh like didn’t nearly wake the whole building last time.”
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toomuchracket · 7 months
Text
scary movies (birthday party!matty x reader fluff)
day 3 of promptober75! this is less about scary movies than it is about the two of them musing on romance. but they do watch bones and all! i don't think there are any spoilers, but don't yell at me if there are please lol this isn't proofread. yeah, this is just a cutely weird little fic about some cutely weird people. i hope you enjoy!
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"baaaaaaaabe, hurry up. i miss you!"
you can hear the pout in matty's voice, even from the next room of the hotel suite. picking up the bowl of m&ms in one hand and the open bottle of champagne in the other, you pad back into the bedroom. "how can you miss me? you've been with me the whole day."
"i always miss you when i'm not right beside you, no matter how long it's for," matty replies, sitting up on his knees on the bed to carefully take the bowl and bottle from your hands. the way his stomach muscles shift with the movement makes your knees run the risk of shaking. "the night before our wedding is going to be hellish for me. are you sure we can't just stay together? al green it?"
"baby, it's tradition."
"peer pressure from dead people, you mean."
"fine, another reason, then. oh, here's one - absence makes the heart grow fonder. you can't argue with Classical poetry."
"try me, babe."
you sigh. "matty, sweetheart, love and light of my life, sole occupant of my head and heart… it's only for twelve hours of our lives. and we will literally be on the same floor of the same building. it'll be fine!" 
matty quirks a brow.
god, he's stubborn. you inhale deeply before you talk again. "alright. i'll wait until the bridesmaids are asleep and then we can sneak out together for a walk. but i'm not sleeping with you at all - in either sense, actually - regardless of how crippling your separation anxiety is."
"i can work with that, darling. thank you," matty smiles and leans up to kiss you.
before he can, though, you place your index finger on his pretty lips. "not so fast, healy, i have a caveat: i'll only do it if we can share a cig."
matty rolls his eyes, and nudges your finger from his face with a quick head movement. "should've seen that one coming. christ, fine. one cigarette, and that's it. don't want any rattling coughing fits during our vows."
you giggle, leaning down to kiss him; the speed with which his face softens afterwards is comical, almost cartoon-like. "thanks, angel."
"mmm, can't wait to marry you," matty murmurs against your lips. "nor can i wait for you to get into bed with me so i can cuddle you the way i've wanted to all day."
"point taken, baby, just let me…" your face screws up as you reach around to unclasp your bra through your (matty's) t-shirt, before pulling it out from under the soft material and launching it towards the open suitcase in the corner of the room. relief palpable, you climb onto the bed and grin at an enamoured matty, now sitting against the plush headboard and swigging champagne. "freedom at last."
"you know, i'd gladly do that for you, sweetheart," matty smirks, tugging you onto his lap with one arm. "in the name of feminism, and all."
"as much as i commend your attempts to champion the gender, baby, i'll pass," you smile, enjoying the tiny moan that slips from your fiancé's lips as you weave your hands into his hair. "because i know if i let you do that, your hands are gonna end up on my tits, and then we'll never get anything done."
"oi, that's not true," matty frowns (cutely). "we'll get each other done. and i know you enjoy that. as do i, my god."
his lips attach themselves to your neck, making their way down; your insides begin to liquify, but you fight through the slight haze of pleasure and stand your ground. "yeah, i really do enjoy it. but, baby, there's other stuff i enjoy doing with you that i wanna do too, yeah? like… watching this film we agreed we were gonna put on tonight."
matty groans against your skin. "must we?"
"yes. you promised me, matty," you say, as firmly as you can with his lips still attached to your collarbone. "we watched the irishman yesterday because you wanted to, and you said we could do bones and all today. it's only fair."
"a romance film about cannibalism," matty mutters to nobody in particular. "it's foul, that concept."
"well, fair is foul and foul is fair."
"what?"
"macbeth. shakespeare. can't argue with him. anyway," you say, shuffling around so matty can lean back against your chest. "can i put the film on now?"
a deep sigh, one that seems to drag itself up from the depths of matty's soul. "depends."
"on?"
"it depends," matty begins dramatically. "on if you're going to spend the rest of the day thirsting over timothée chalamet or not."
"you know, i seem to like him a lot more in your head than i do in real life."
"really?"
"yeah."
matty hums, appeased. "sick. go on, then, stick it on."
you press a kiss to matty's temple and snake a hand across his torso to hold his own. matty brings it to his lips, and the contact seems to release a swarm of butterflies in your stomach. "thank you, lover."
the beginning of the film passes without much incident; that is, until the first lightly gory scene. you wince a little at the sound of cracking bone, but you're nowhere near as bad as matty, who almost upends the bowl of sweets resting on his lap and vigorously shakes his head as if it'll erase the memory from his brain. 
once it passes, he reaches for the champagne on the bedside table and takes a long drink, before passing the bottle to you. "maybe you'd better hang onto that, darling."
"alright, baby."
despite both of your respective silences,  and although you can't see matty's face, you can picture the disgust colouring his features from the way his head tilts against you as the film progresses. he doesn't speak until the film's main villain is introduced, reaching back for the champagne with a "creepy fucker, that one"; this sentiment is built upon at the shot of a james joyce book in said fucker's residence. "oh, christ, he really is suspicious."
despite your own discomfort towards the happenings on-screen, you grin at matty's assessment. "i mean, yeah, baby. but i think the lurking and creeping kinda gave that away already."
"well, obviously. but that book's an extra layer of him being an absolute wrong'un."
you giggle, wrapping your other arm around matty and resting your head on his shoulder. with a happy little huff of air through his nose, matty turns slightly to kiss your cheek; the two of you stay like that, cosied up in a tableau of casual domestic intimacy. it's sweet, for a while, and comfortable - matty even rips the piss out of you at a particular scene involving timothée chalamet and a cornfield, touting it as "your dream movie death, babe". 
(he's lowkey not wrong.)
the sweet moment breaks somewhat, though, as the film progresses and matty gets increasingly more grossed out. with every drop of blood spilled, every jumpscare, every mere mention of the "eating" driving the plot, the muscles in his limbs loosen and contract back into tension, soundtracked by a chorus of gasps, gulps, groans of disgust, and the odd "oh for fuck's sake" when things get really horrid. in spite of your own discomfort at some of the gore, you can't resist fucking with your fiancé a little bit; amidst a silently fraught moment for maren, the protagonist, you lean right next to an unsuspecting matty's ear and crunch a handful of m&m's in your mouth. he practically hits the ceiling in fright, and pinches your thigh with a "not fucking funny". but he doesn't let go of you at all, however grumpy you make him, holding you like a lifeline throughout. in fact, by the time the credits start rolling, matty's fully squished his face into your ribs to get away from the gore on screen, thumbs rubbing your thighs so quickly to try and calm his noticeably thumping heart that you fear he might accidentally set your skin ablaze. 
despite his terror, though, you have to hold back a laugh. "matty, sweetheart," you say, trying with all your might to keep your voice steady. "were you scared of that movie?"
"no, just unnerved by it," comes the clearly- untrue reply, muffled by your cotton-mix-clad chest. "like, they were just constantly eating raw? really? mingin'."
you can't hold back a derisive cackle now, though. "you're freaked out at people eating raw meat? you fucking hypocrite!"
"i wasn't eating people, was i?" matty protests.
"i don't know, i think you ate with it at finsbury."
matty scoffs, but you feel him smile against you. "you're a right weirdo, sometimes, you know that?"
"and you're a scaredy-cat, you know that? honestly. can't even handle a bit of cannibalism in a movie. pussy."
your fiancé pulls back from your chest to look at you, and you regret your words immediately as soon as you see the shit-eating grin on his face. "well, you are what you eat."
an immediate facepalm. "i can't stand you."
"that ring on your left hand suggests otherwise, darling," matty kisses said ring, then presses little pecks up your finger to the tip. "and look at that - you can be romantic and kiss fingers without wanting to munch on them. this film is nonsensical. i mean, i get it's some metaphorical thing about loving people for who they truly are, but jesus, the cannibalism isn't half disgusting."
"hmmm, i don't know," you muse, twirling matty's curls around your fingers. "i think there's something romantic about it. the ending with maren and lee, at least."
matty peels your fingers out of his hair and moves to face you, his beautiful face contorted into the most bewildered expression you think you've ever seen. "are you on something right now?"
"i'm serious! it's romantic, if ill-advised. and messy."
"sweetheart," matty shuts his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. "politely - what the fuck are you on about?"
you smile. "well, it's all about desire, and lust, yeah?"
"yeah, i get that, but…"
"so, it's just needing somebody so much that you, well, you consume them in their entirety. and also, like," you continue, pushing your slipping glasses back up your nose. "there's an element of closeness to it, too. how much more intimate can you get than having your lover being broken down in your digestive system, literally fuelling you the way their love does so emotionally? oh, and devotion! giving yourself up to your lover like that to sustain them? you're together forever. yeah, it's disgusting, but you can't deny there's a romance to it, matty, you really can't."
he looks like he wants to, though. "but it's so violent."
you roll your eyes. "says the man who wrote a song about the idea of cracking his girlfriend's skull open, just so he could know exactly what she was thinking. and i thought that was sweet, and romantic."
matty opens his mouth as if to disagree, then closes it and shrugs. "actually, you've got a point, darling," he smiles almost shyly, tracing patterns in the bare skin of your shin. "i wrote that about you, you know."
"you did? aww, baby," you coo, pulling your fiancé's face towards you so you can kiss all over it. "i had no idea!"
"oh, come on, babe, who the fuck else would it have been about?" matty scoffs. "used to daydream about being so intimate with you like this, just hearing you think out loud, as unedited as you'll ever get."
you smirk. "bet you didn't think the thoughts would be about the inherent romance of cannibalism, huh?"
matty laughs, leaning in to kiss you slowly, deeply, passionately. "no, but it doesn't matter. i love you regardless."
"i love you too. and i promise i won't try to eat you, baby."
"nor will i take a heavy object to your skull, sweetheart. however," matty smirks, shuffling down the bed to rest his head in the gap between your legs. "i would quite like to eat you in a slightly different sense, if you'll allow."
"oh, go on then."
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corawritesthings · 1 year
Text
chishiya shuntaro flirting headcanons
(gn!reader, presumed to be in the borderlands.)
okay. let’s talk.
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pov he's looking at you
-this man, in terms of flirting, would be one of two extremes. I will die on both of these hills.
-the first: this man being the most awkward, embarrassing flirter of life.
-picture this if you will. you two meeting at the beach (and I'd imagine in this scenario you’d eventually get to know each other well, he’s crushing on you, you’re crushing on him, that kind of thing.)
-kuina probably pushed him into making a move—because you know it’d be a cold day in hell for him to approach you himself—and thus begins the STRANGEST COURTSHIP SAGA OF YOUR LIFE.
-he’d probably attempt giving you gifts (gifts here meaning literal weapons he created) and he’d kind of just hand it to you quietly and walk off, leaving you with nothing but confusion.
-compliments would sound a little something like, “you’re pretty good at the games.”
-something distant and impersonal, because he wouldn’t feel right about complimenting specific things about you, if that makes sense? like, it just seems off to him to compliment things about your appearance or your personality. he’d prefer to speak a language he understands.
-(and, let’s not forget, most emotionally unavailable man on earth probably doesn’t want to understand his own feelings, so he’s just as off kilter about the whole thing as you are.)
-in that same vein, he’d probably compliment your intelligence a lot. (again, speaking his own language). he might commend you for your analytical skills or the way you understand things. the way your mind works is something that intrigues him regardless of what universe you’re in, so he’d certainly comment on it if he were making an active attempt to flirt (?) with you.
-he’d be that person who learns your route/routine just so he can run into you. look me in the eyes screen and tell me he wouldn’t. he’d absolutely deny it, don’t get me wrong. he will go to the grave with it. but he would.
-would accidentally insult you without realizing it at LEAST one time. (though if it were a true offense and you were genuinely hurt, I do think he’d apologize in his own on-brand chishiya way. maybe bring you a treat you really like.)
-okay, now for the second extreme, which I personally will subscribe to for eternity.
-this man.
-this MAN.
-chishiya. shuntaro.
-having the most rizz you’ve ever seen in your LIFE.
-it would catch you so off guard—you would NOT see it coming—but this man would be the smoothest motherfucker you’ve ever met.
-picture it. if you will.
-the PETNAMES. tbh I only see a specific set of petnames coming from this man? things like angel, sweetheart. or any variation of pretty. just ‘pretty,’ or ‘pretty girl’/’pretty boy.’ oh my god marry me or nicknames that only he calls you >>>
-if anyone approached you flirtatiously at a party and you were clearly uncomfortable or not interested, he’d just walk up to you and put an arm around your shoulders, asking if you wanted to go somewhere else. probably would verbally obliterate the person approaching you at the same time.
-when you would eventually ask why he did that, telling him you thought he didn’t care, he’d just shrug it off with a smirk on his face, and say something like, “i didn’t like the way they looked at you. that’s my job, isn’t it?”
-honestly are any of us ready for possessive chishiya? I am
-gift giving and quality time are his love languages, so if he’s interested, expect both of those in abundance.
-man would also not understand personal space. he’s a leaner. tell me otherwise, I dare you.
-(please tell me you know what I mean.)
-like, okay, his hands would generally stay in his pockets, but he’d always just be leaning in towards you, or appearing randomly without you realizing it and whispering in your ear to startle you. ESPECIALLY if you’re shorter than him.
-teaser.
-if you get flustered easily, he’d tease you on how your cheeks turn red or how blushy you get when he says something particularly flirty. (“it’s just the truth, y/n,” he’d say with a little hum. “you don’t want me to start lying, now, do you?”)
-if you don’t get flustered easily, he’d just see it as a challenge to up his game. you can leave that up to your imagination <3
-would probably hold your hand just to throw you off guard.
can I do actual relationship headcanons or are you guys tired of him yet?
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devildomditzy · 8 months
Text
You know how it goes.
The same old same old.
You attempt to get something done for once,
and he ruins it by attempting to insert himself as the constant center of your attention.
But you wouldn’t have it any other way, now would you?
Your attempt to study for your upcoming cursed speechcraft class was impressive, commendable even. But of course, you weren’t getting anything done, not if he had anything to say about it.
You’ve reread the same sentence at least twelve times now, trying to drown out the loud, cheesy love song blaring from outside your bedroom window. But of course, your efforts were futile.
You made eye contact with him, but how could you not! The poor boy stood out on the lawn under your bedroom window, practically on his tippy toes, holding a large, heavy boombox over his head. Sure, demonic strength was a thing, but that sure looks heavy!
Where’d he even get that?
Whatever.
No time to think about that. You were NOT going to let him distract you this time. Not after he had spent the whole day trying to convince you to ‘stop being such a damn nerd’.
But of course, your steadfast nature lined with the good intentions of not failing this course went through one ear and out the other.
You were going to ignore him? Fine.
Try to ignore Celine Dion on full blast.
You watch in annoyance as he turns the volume knob up to max, making the face of a man hellbent on distracting his human exchange student.
Now it was a game of patience, who would crack first? Him giving up this charade, or you finally caving into just what it is he wants?
Or Lucifer telling him to turn that thing off before he pops his head like a grape.
It’s anyone’s guess.
Don’t let him get to you.
Just turn to the next page.
Wait, what is he doing?
He’s set the boombox down, and he’s walking out of sight.
Maybe he’s giving up?
Of course not.
There’s a second boombox.
For Diavolo’s sake.
You pick up your D.D.D, opening your messages with him.
——————————————————————————
MC: Mammon.
Mammon: Pretty cool, huh? Found em on a sick deal too. Ya know I’d be happy to share one with ya, only if ya came down here though.
MC: I don’t want a boombox, I want to study.
MC: Where’d you get those anyway?
Mammon: Not important
MC: 🙃
Mammon: What IS important is that ya stop being’ such a rotten human and come down here to hang out with me.
MC: Mams, I already told you I’d hang out with you after I’m done studying! I can’t afford to fail this class, Lucifer will kill me! You’re welcome to come study with me as long as you’re actually studying.
Mammon: So you’re not coming down?
MC: No!
Mammon: Fine. Hope you like Beyoncé.
——————————————————————————
You groan in irritation and throw your D.D.D. onto your bed as his music somehow gets even louder.
You’re glad he forgets he can fly sometimes because if he was at your literal window you’d pop him like a grape yourself.
You put your head in your hands and look outside, just to see him lip syncing the first chorus of ‘Halo’ at you.
Its okay. Deep breath. Just block him out.
Eyes back on the page.
“The first step to recognizing when someone is attempting to use curse speechcraft on you is…”
Okay what the fuck.
What the hell is he doing.
Annnddd he’s taking his shirt off, okay.
Cool.
You make eye contact with him for a split second, and he makes that smirk you wish you could wipe off his face right now.
You rip your eyes away from your boyfriend’s impromptu strip tease as your D.D.D. buzzes from it’s spot on your bed, and you’re surprised to see the name flashing on the screen does not match the source of your frustrations.
——————————————————————————
Lucifer: MC.
MC: Yes?
Lucifer: Do you have any part in the absolute horror show that is taking place on the front lawn?
MC: Please make him stop.
Lucifer: l will return him to you in one piece.
——————————————————————————-
You look out the window just the time to see your panicked boyfriend attempting to run away with a stereo in each hand, his shirt and jacket thrown over his shoulder.
You’ll cut him down from the rafters eventually, but only after you’re sure he won’t be effecting your grades.
Annnd maybe after you’re done teasing him for a bit.
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blissfulip · 3 months
Text
Dopamine
on AO3
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Viktor x f!reader
Rating: Explicit
Tags: enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst, idiots in love (?) dubious science, mostly canon compliant, no use of y/n, chemist!reader, eventual smut, masturbation, angry sex, unprotected sex,
Cw: uhhhh smut
Words: 2.5k
[A/N: russian very kindly corrected by soln, ly<3, tags and content warnings to be updated in each chapter, updates weekly(ish). (also, let me know if you want to be tagged in fic updates!)]
Tags: @ihopeinevergetsoberr @chemical-killjoy @jinxed-jk @bobobomao
Previous Next
Chapter 6: Big-headed? (NSFW)
The corridor leading to Heimerdinger's office was markedly narrower and longer than the others at The Academy, as though he was covertly attempting to thwart visitors. It didn’t stop you, however, and as you found out when you got there, it hadn’t stopped Viktor either. It made sense that, at one point in his life, long before you even met each other, these halls must have been a habitual destination. His close-knit relationship with the professor also showed itself confidently in the volume of his voice, a line that, despite your frustration with the situation, you’d never dare to cross.
You had every intention of staying put and waiting for him to come out, but the half-open door compromised your presence, and given that you were almost certainly there to make a fuss about the same issue, you decided to get it done and over with; after all, perchance Viktor's presence there could give your argument a compelling edge.
"Well, I’m glad you were able to join us at last, dear. I trust you are feeling better." Heimerdinger started.
“I’m okay; yes, thank you for the concern, professor. I should say I have a surmise that I am here for the same reason as him."
“Yes, I was trying to argue that our work styles do not meld well, and making us work together for any period of time greater than 5 minutes could be catastrophic; would you confirm as much?”
“Absolutely, I can do the work all on my own if that’s necessary; just don't make me work with him.”
“Interestingly enough, he has offered to do the same. Although I do commend both of you for your altruism, I must insist. This is what the Academy has decided.”
“Professor, if I may—"
“Enough delays, my boy; the decision is final. If I were you, I would get to it immediately; you have only a couple of hours to work.” You were swiftly rushed out the door by him, swept away by tiny, impatient footsteps and a heavy wooden door closing behind you.
Another door closed right on your faces when the sweet librarian denied you access on the pretense that your arguing had inconvenienced a whole two people the past couple of weeks, and you were now banned from using the premises at the same time. You had to compromise and go in by yourself to get the books you needed and then go all the way to the half-empty and uncomfortably cold cafeteria tables, where you worked tirelessly until you were yet again kicked out once the place closed. 
-------------------------
A couple infectious yawns and rubbed eyes later, you leaned back on the stiff plastic chair and stretched your back.
“What time is it?”
“Past 9.” Viktor answered after lazily turning around to try to make out what the clock read. You groaned loudly.
“We’ll need to move again—my dorm or yours?"
“Mine is probably cleaner.”
“Are you implying I’m messy?”
“No, I am affirming as much.”
“Rude.” You were offended, though only as a habit, because he was not entirely wrong.
“Oh no, have I offended you? Someone put me out of my misery!” He dramatized.
“I’d be first in line.” You said already standing up and walking in the direction of his dormitory.
--------------------------------------------------------
“Not everything needs to be done your way, you know?"
In the wake of the cafeteria work stretch, you had found yourselves completely spent and depleted. With most of the work done and text written, you had taken some minutes to stretch and rest your eyes. Viktor had informed you as soon as you got there that it was imperative that you were as silent as possible, given the next-door neighbor's propensity to complain about noise.
You did your best to keep it down, of course, and granted, you had been doing a particularly good job. That is, until Viktor decided to wonder who between the two of you would be the one actually giving the speech with the material you had prepared. Although you did your best to ask him politely at first, his immediate negative response caused you to get defensive.
“I wrote most of the text; why can’t you just do me a favor once?
“It’s not a favor if you have to throw me under a train for it! You know I hate speaking in public, and genuinely, I’m dog-tired of you being so incorrigibly selfish.”
“I’m not selfish, how am I selfish?” You said almost forgetting you had to keep the volume down.
“You never think about any consequences, ever. You can go around saying you are a free spirit and spontaneous and fun as much as you like, but if truth be told, you are nothing but cataclysmic chaos!”
“I don’t make mistakes on purpose, Viktor; it happens; you just have zero empathy because you insist on making everyone believe you are the Academy’s perfect golden boy! You never make mistakes, and you never do anything wrong, right?. But I know all you really do is push people away because everyone is afraid of disappointing you! I don't know. If you were a little less hostile, maybe you’d have some friends."
“You mean friends like you? I’d rather staple my ears together than be friends with a jumbled  mess. He said, standing up from the chair, his nose flaring up as he inhaled a sharp breath and held his cane forcefully. “You are so excruciatingly intolerable, overwhelming, big-headed—”
“Big-headed?"
“That is what you take offense to?”
You couldn’t say anything beyond a dismissive shrug, and you knew your disregard for his opinion was what would sting the most anyway.
The silence was loud; it could be felt in the air between you, the irate flare of irritation in his gritted teeth, his ears colored in that familiar tone of blush, and his eyebrows uncomfortably knit together as he whisper-screamed at you. He took a couple steps forward, leaving you at no farther than a palm's distance. The sudden closeness somehow did not bother you; you could hear both of your breaths, heavy and panting from the strain of containing your screams, and you could tell by the heat you felt all over your head and stomach that your cheeks probably mirrored the flush on Viktor’s face.
In hindsight, you never really understood why you didn’t talk back to him after that last comment. You had so many things in mind you could have said, but an unknown force pulled your attention away from his amber eyes glowing with rage to his lips instead, which were a bloody cherry red from biting on them too much. You couldn’t look away, and Viktor quickly noticed.
Then his shoulders visibly lost tension.
"Ah…prydoruk,” he whispered, mostly to himself, and you wished you understood because it somehow felt like another insult. Perplexity became fright when the loud clang of his cane falling directed your eyes to the floor, but in an instant, both of his hands were holding your face firmly, and one of them slithered in between the locks of your hair.
You hated how fast your guard fell. His fingers, icy yet delicate, caressing the lines of your jaw, were enough to disarm you completely. You mouthed multiple offenses at him under your breath as you searched for his lips. You were agonizingly in need of each other’s taste. Your hands had a strong grip on his shirt, tugging at it unintentionally as your body, which desperately wanted that idiot, tried to gripe with your rationality. The war in Viktor’s mind was a similar one, but just as much as yours, his body was unable to pull back.
Eventually you needed to catch your breath from the kiss, beyond hungry, and when you pulled back just slightly, you looked at each other like two deer in headlights, frozen in place by a blend of contradicting emotions that prevented you from moving and still holding each other closely. Viktor moved first, and when he kissed you again, you could feel his hands move almost on their own, going against his orders to wrap around your waist and pull you closer to him. He felt his lungs grow hungry for air as his tongue buried itself deep inside your throat.
“Stop pulling," he tried to whisper in between kisses. You shushed him, bringing a finger up to his lips, and started leaving a trail of kisses along his jawbone. “If you tear my shirt, I—” He tried once again, but your lips got to his neck at the same time, and his sentence changed into a muffled groan.
“I won’t. Just shut up; don’t make me think too much about this; just sh—”
“So crass,” he said as he walked backwards to the bed, pulling you along with him. “You’re so unpleasant."
“You have history that says otherwise, asshat."
You already had a leg on the bed, fully intending to push him on it to straddle his lap, but he moved faster than you could think and shifted to hover above you. He crawled up slowly without ever stopping the deep kiss you were sharing and used one of his knees to push your legs apart, positioning himself between them. You tried not to react, but the feeling of his erection against you prompted a slight chuckle to come out of your throat. 
“If this is how you get when I’m unpleasant, I can’t imagine what could happen if I were nice to you.” you smirked. He sank his teeth against your skin in response, leaving a small bite mark on your collarbone before he whispered.
“You are not funny, Zaychik."
“You’re just humorless." You said this as you pulled his shirt over his head. This must have been the open invitation he was waiting for to introduce a hand under your dress, completely bunching it up to gain precious access to your bare chest.
Although the energy of the room had shifted noticeably, the pooling heat in between you never replaced the ravenous disposition. You still felt the frustration in him as he bit into you multiple times, leaving a wake of purple and red bruises you would have to explain the next day. You didn’t know if his motivations were guided by a fit of lust or if it was a way to punish you for all of the irritation you had caused him throughout the years of knowing each other; either way, it felt good, and you did not care to keep pondering.
His hand trickled down to your underwear in excruciatingly slow designs, one of his eyebrows raising in a self-congratulatory expression when he felt the dampness of the fabric.
“Pat yourself in the back; why don't you?” You said, rolling your eyes. He did not answer, and, to your astonishment, he did not take your underwear off. He took his hand back up, bringing the fingers wet with arousal into his mouth, pulled down the elastic of his sweatpants and underwear to reveal a cock you wished you hadn’t gasped at, and pulled your underwear to the side to position himself at your entrance, all without ever breaking eye contact.
Even though he was panting abnormally loud and you could tell he would probably soon burst into a cloud of smoke, he still nodded slightly at you, asking for confirmation, and when you nodded back, he impatiently tilted his hips as far as the position allowed it and his leg could withstand, plunging into you with hungry zeal. He didn’t start slow; he was incisive and deep with every thrust, making sure he was completely inside you with every move. Calculated bastard
You used both hands around his back to hold yourself steady, your not exactly manicured nails digging into the soft flesh of his shoulder blades as you did your best to not make any noises too loud. Down on the bed under him, you pondered the dim light in the room and the curious designs of the roof. They might as well have been figments of your imagination, swirls of light and haziness as your eyes filled with tears.
You confused the erratic rhythm of his hips for what you thought at first was the arrival of his unraveling and immediately realized was simply his leg tiring out, and you gathered enough momentum to push him off of you, his back now on the bed, and you were ready to ride him. Long overdue, you thought, you couldn’t let him get his way with you without having a mirriad of his whimpers to your name. Your pace wasn’t slow either; you drove him into you with the roll of your hips, making sure you could feel him in the right spots.
The look of enamoured trance on his face as you bounced on his lap was far from the vexed expression you were expecting, and the suppressed groans of pleasure touched something in you that made you suddenly bashful. You leaned over to nuzzle your face against the crook of his neck and pressed your lips against his when his grin was getting too wide for comfort. You devoured each other again for what felt like too little time before you could feel the overwhelming heat in your core preparing you for your climax.
You tried to tell Viktor you were about to come, but something in your face must have made that obvious, because he brought you close again by the back of your neck, your mouths nearly touching each other as he spoke.
“Say my name,” he murmured into your mouth.
“Yeah, right”
The hand on your neck slithered its way up to your hair, which he tugged at firmly.
“Say it; I know you’re close.”
“Fuck you.” You hissed, neither of you being able to contain a half-pleasure, half irritation, out-of-breath groan.
It didn’t take much longer before you felt the brief pain and sweet spasm that followed it, and Viktor revealed the feeling of your walls contracting around his cock. You took a second to compose yourself with your forehead pressed against his, and then gave him a devilish grin as you slid down to his lap. His eyes opened wide when you pressed the heat of his erection flat on your tongue, taking it in as far as you could manage.
His head shot back and his face contorted in pleasure, the hand that hadn’t left your hair oscillating between pulling at it harshly and gently caressing your head. You tasted him, salty, in your throat soon enough, and sat up after swallowing every drop of it. Viktor drew you back to him, and you laid there next to each other, avoiding eye contact, even though you were too high from your orgasms to feel any regret yet.
‘Yet’ came soon enough, though.
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