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islandofsages · 3 months

Note

hello!! I was hoping I could request gn!reader (aka Yuu) who loves dancing (and is actually really good at it, preferably something like contemporary dancing?) but hasn't told anyone in nrc. basically, the boys' reaction to stumbling upon them dancing one day!!

(requesting for cater, lilia, riddle, jamil, malleus, rook and vil!!)

thank youuuu <3

characters: riddle, cater, jamil, vil, rook, malleus and lilia x gn!yuu

tags: relationship not specified, fluff, imagines format; grim mention in riddle's, cater's, malleus' and lilia's. vil mention in cater's. kalim mention in jamil's. vil's is set in book 5

warnings: use of the word "dear" as a term of endearment in lilia's part

author's notes: i tried making them stumble yuu in different places so if they seem random thats why lol also i almost forgot about the "hasn't told anyone at nrc" part i get so carried away sometimes help 😭

Riddle Rosehearts

He has a deep appreciation for dancing and consequently, he respects anyone who is a connoisseur of the art

He would tell you everything he knows about the art and comes to you to inform you on any new things he learns about it

You would tell him that you’re a dancer yourself, especially contemporary dance; the freeing nature of your favorite form has proven to be an effective way to relieve stress and express yourself

…But you’re a bit too shy to admit that to someone as amazing as Riddle - so fate takes the matter into its own hands

You were dancing in Ramshackle’s lounge, all by yourself since Grim is napping, a luxury you don’t get to afford too often

You simply felt like it; you put on some music and suddenly your body grows a mind of its own

You were so absorbed in your performance that you didn’t manage to hear knocks rapping on your door, let alone the sound of footsteps leading up to it

Sensing no answer from you and immediately growing worried, whoever was at the door bursted in to search for you… only to be met with a you in the middle of a dance move

It takes you a few seconds to notice him standing there in awe of your movements. When you do, you instantly ran over to the source of your music and switched it off in embarrassment

He asked you why you did that and would love for you to continue dancing but you only shook your head and tell him you weren’t fully ready to show off your moves yet and that you were simply going with the flow

“I mean, that’s kinda the whole point of contemporary dancing, just going with the flow? But still, I need to choreograph some parts of it to actually look like a form of dance.”

He chuckles at your response and doesn’t push you to resume if you feel uncomfortable. You thank him for respecting your boundaries

Though everything between you goes smoothly after the incident, you’ll never forget the look on his face when he laid his eyes on: the pure wonder in his eyes told everything you needed to know.

Cater Diamond

He thinks dancing is super cool and he sometimes try to demonstrate that - and in your opinion, he’s not half-bad at it despite what Vil would say

You would show off your own moves but you don’t wanna kill his vibes, even if he’d think you’re super good at it

But one day you’ll tell him how much you love contemporary dance and the fact that it can convey every human emotion and experience; and then that day comes, though very unexpectedly you would say

It was late in the evening; the school hallways are mostly empty, save for you and Grim casually having a conversation while walking your way back to your dorm

But one glance outside gives you all the inspiration you need for an impromptu dance session - the sky is bleeding orange, blazing yellow bandaging it

Your movements shift. You are now a tribute to the sunset. Grim stands aside and watches you with a sigh but he holds back his witty comments for after you’re done with your performance

Little did you know you have another person in your audience - Cater also had late evening classes and only now he’s heading back to Heartslabyul

At least, that was his initial plan. Seeing you dancing in the hallway caught him off guard, firstly because who in their right mind would dance in the hallways but secondly (and mainly), the way you move enchanted him

Could it even be called moving? Your limbs bend and flex so smoothly that he thought they turned into water somehow

By the time you’re done, you’re given a standing ovation by both of your spectators - one of whose you jump at in shock

“Yuu, that was like, crazy good! Are you secretly some pro dancer or something?”

You blush a little at the fact that he saw you and at the compliment; after that event, it’s impossible to hide anything from him so you simply tell him everything you know

You’d give him pointers and you’re happy to see his improvement from day to day but most importantly, his shining, genuine smile is something you wouldn’t miss for the world.

Jamil Viper

You know he’s very passionate about dance and you truly admire his skill for it

Although he’d be the perfect dance partner, you feel a little self-conscious sharing your own passion for dancing with him

He seems to sparkle when he shows off his skills and you think you lack that type of shine to your own - he begs to differ though, you’ve come to learn

The two of you were hanging out in his room, music pouring out from his stereo and you drowning in it, your limbs spread out on the floor

Then your room is shaken by some unknown noise, though you can assume it’s Kalim-induced, to which Jamil sighed and excused himself to go check out and possibly fix up

You lay there on your own then, nodding your head to the music, until a song you liked dominates the speakers, taking you by surprise

You don’t know what happened but as soon as the first note hit, you’re on your feet and your body was swaying side to side

Losing your mind and body to the music felt good, but then Jamil entered the room when you were mid-dance. You would’ve stopped if it weren’t for him joining in, but not without a taunt

“What, too scared to dance with me? Come and show me what you’ve got, Yuu.”

You accepted his challenge and continued where you left off - the two of you twisted and turned and ended up on the floor lying on your backs once again, gasping for breath

The two of you laughed breathlessly. He then praised you and your dancing abilities and wondered why you never showed him how skilled you are

You shrugged, thinking it wasn’t a big deal, but then he put a hand on your shoulder and offered to have more dance-offs. You didn’t hesitate to agree

When dancing with him, it feels like the most natural thing in the world, as if you were born to do this. And maybe, just maybe, you were born to meet such a wonderful person too.

Vil Schoenheit

You were a bit let down when you couldn’t actually participate as a dancer for the VDC but at the very least it allowed you to give yourself a bit more time to truly showcase your dancing to others

And hosting a training camp for the actual competitors isn’t too bad if it’s for your dorm and for something you’re passionate about

Ramshackle Dorm is lively, what with everyone there. Conflict was inevitable in this school but it did drive you crazy somewhat

One particular day, everyone was taking a break from Vil’s scrutinous training and you can feel the tension in the air

At some point, everyone left the ballroom. Only you remained seated on the floor, your back to the wall. You stared up at the ceiling and sighed. You couldn’t take this anymore

You got to your feet and simply started dancing, as quietly as you could. No music, nothing - you didn’t want to risk garnering attention by being noisy

It definitely served to alleviate some of your stress. You even smiled to yourself and at some points, fought the urge to laugh out of joy

The ballroom seemed different then. The images of your friends came into your mind - all their smiles, their frowns, the determined looks on their faces. You felt your movements growing more fluid at the thought of them

Once you’re done and panting, bent over your knees gasping for air, a loud clap reverberates in the room. Then another. Then a third. Then a figure emerges, their hands clasped

“What a pleasant surprise. You’re not bad at all. Though it’s a bit too late to recruit you, I surely hope you continue to hone that skill of yours.”

Did… did Vil Schoenheit just praise your dancing skills?

Let’s just say you took his advice to heart - it’s hard not to when it’s Vil Schoenheit himself

You also helped the others with some of your advice after the confidence boost and you’re happy to see their improvement. Seeing Vil satisfied also brought a smile to your face.

Rook Hunt

After the VDC, you found yourself more exhausted than usual by the events that occurred and you begged for a break from whatever deity is there in Twisted Wonderland. Dancing was the last thing on your mind

And for a while, that’s what you got - you were able to simply attend classes and watch your friends bicker with each other like a normal student. It was a well-needed break for everyone

Sometimes you’d chat for a bit with any familiar faces you run into and these days, you found yourself chilling by yourself in the courtyard

One day, you suddenly felt a longing to dance once more. And luckily for you, you had the courtyard all to yourself

It went from being some regular courtyard to your stage and the sun was your spotlight; you shone and you twinkled. You were like a star

And that was what you were told by the end of your performance, accompanied by applause from a singular person

“Très bien, Yuu… your performance has moved me to tears!”

Rook exclaims as he makes his way over to you; that certainly wasn’t your intention. You didn’t even think it was worth watching

But then Rook continues to comment on certain aspects of your performance, elaborating in very vivid detail. You’ve never felt so seen before

He would shower you with compliments, as if to say that you shouldn’t have a single doubt in your mind

And you hardly ever do after that since he very much threatened you to be kind to yourself or else

He would tell everyone about your wonderful skill (with your consent, of course), as if you’re his child who he’s been watching grow up over the years

He may be a bit loud about you at times but when you look over at him and see how proud he is of you, you only sigh fondly and hold back a chuckle.

Malleus Draconia

He doesn’t know a lot about the subject but he appreciates it as a form of art and expression of the people

And so you would tell him all about it while being careful to not let on that you’re one yourself which is surprisingly easier than you thought, considering how oblivious he is sometimes

He merely sees you as some sort of dance scholar and as if he doesn’t respect you a lot already, he definitely holds you in higher regard now

And somehow, that elevates to an even higher level when he suddenly finds you out

He was on his routinely walk around Ramshackle; it was a windy night, weather as pleasant as his conversations with you

Coincidentally, whilst his thoughts were on you, he spotted you in the backyard of your dorm with the ghosts and… hm? It’s brightly lit for once

Curious and wanting confirmation, he changed his route to suspiciously festive-looking Ramshackle instead

Meanwhile, you and Grim were dancing to some music the ghosts were playing for you. You all were having a simple party to forget your worries

The ghosts would comment on how you should stop outshining Grim so much, just to mess with Grim. But they had a point; you had a certain glimmer to you when you dance

Malleus saw that much when he reached your party. He stood within the frame of the backdoor, watching your every movement, entranced

After a few minutes did you notice him there, unmoving. Your steps trace their way to him instead. You extend a hand to him

“May I have this dance?”

And you may - the two of you danced, him slipping in flatteries in between moves. Maybe it was just you, but the party seemed to feel much more lively with him. No, not just the party; the whole world was.

Lilia Vanrouge

He knows a thing or two about dancing from all his adventures and he’d love to show you proof of it

So he does - he's definitely got the moves and you definitely want to show him some of your own… someday

You feel a little self-conscious about your own skills after his show but that doesn't stop you from working on your dancing. You're determined to make your skills worthy of Lilia’s attention!

Little did you know. It's futile to really hide anything from this sneaky bastard (affectionate)

You were on your way to class from Ramshackle with Grim and unfortunately for you, you had a little earworm stuck in your head that day

It started off as a skip, then two skips. By five skips, it turned into a full on dance. You felt alive, like you were a main character in a musical

Grim was making fun of you at first but then he started linking his arm with lampposts and swinging himself alongside you

Lilia was watching this all happen from afar, as one does. A student dancing their way to class is no everyday spectacle after all. And it's you too! All the more reason to play peeping tom

Just when you're about to reach the main building did he finally give you the jumpscare of a lifetime

“Why, you didn’t tell me what a wonderful dancer you are, my dear Yuu! I must admit, I feel quite offended.”

He was jesting of course - he was merely glad that he got to witness such a sight. And you’re glad that you’re not as unskilled as you thought you were

He tries his best not to boast your skills to others but you know he can never keep such hidden talent, well, hidden from his beloved Diasomnia family

You got the Diasomnia stamp of approval - not only that, but you’ve definitely impressed someone you hold dear.

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jingsyuans · 11 months

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hi! i loved your jing yuan post about him helping you out because you noticed someone following you! do you think you could please write a part 2 for it? i came across your blog and just fell super in love with your writing and how you wrote him 😊💜

a/n: ok. I did it. The reason I don’t write two parters is because most often times, people don’t enjoy the second part I’ve cooked up. It’s usually better played off in your imagination, but I’ve gotten enough requests for it, so I’m putting myself out of my comfort zone for y’all lol. I hope it’s worth it.

first part

wordcount: 3.7k

･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*. Jing Yuan ; from one tea lover to another

The tea pours gently without splatter, making something in you thrum happily as you fill the cup.

You’ve been making tea more often than usual ever since you got your new set. If you allow yourself to be honest, the Meissen that the general gifted to you was now one of your prized possessions. Just looking at it makes you feel a little happy- and you didn’t want the gift to go to waste. You’re making sure the pot and cups are well loved with use, always washing the surface of everything carefully once you’re done. A Meissen is simply too well crafted (and expensive) to excuse you merely using it as a showcase item.

It wasn’t as if you’d even be able to showcase it, you never had many visitors at home.

So you make your tea, usually once every morning before you set off for work and then another pot once you’re home to relax. You won’t lie to yourself- whenever you use the set, you think of Jing Yuan and what he did for you that day. The way he looked at you, the way his hand felt in yours.

Of course, the details like the weight and warmth of his hand have long been forgotten, it was impossible to really remember those kinds of things. But his eyes… yes, you remembered his eyes. His smile.

It’s been a month since then, time flowing smoothly on the Luofu as always and little events such as yours are simply eaten up in the grand scheme of things. You doubt the general thinks about it like you do- he’s a busy man, after all. But that’s okay.

When all is said and done, you’re glad that he gave you a good memory instead of a negative one, just as he planned.

So your life continues as normal, besides the addition of indulging in your tea hobby a bit more than you used to. The only reason you know about different unique sets and you’re able to discern them by eye is the fact you come from a family of tea-makers. No, your family didn’t make the sets- rather you grew the herbs and harvested them, making them into fine grade tea to sell to the markets. You grew up getting your hands dirty as you helped plant seeds and nurtured the crops. But you longed for a broader horizon, which landed you here on the Luofu, universes away from where your family continued their work without you.

It’s a little lonely. You think about them constantly, and as a meager way to try and support them when you left them behind, you always buy your family’s brand of tea. It’s expensive- your family wasn’t humble by any means, and through hard work, the family name had become one of the more royal brands that elites would seek out for personal use. But even if it’s expensive, it’s just not the same if you were to try and drink anything else.

That’s where your problem arises today. The store where you usually buy your family brand was simply… all sold out.

“But how is that possible?” You ask the merchant behind the counter, eyebrows furrowed. Your tone isn’t unkind, simply confused. “That’s never happened before. Did someone come in and buy it all?”

The merchant, who you were familiar with at this point from your frequent visits, looked at you with a guilty look in his eye. Which wasn’t necessary, it wasn’t his fault. “That’s exactly it,” he told you. “One of those fancy counselors came in and bought out everything we had. She didn’t exactly look happy about it herself, but she had her orders.”

Your confusion only deepens. “If someone wanted to order stock, they’d know to contact the sellers directly, not sell out shops on the Luofu,” you thought aloud. “So whoever bought it is either extremely arrogant or extremely impatient.”

“Well, you know the general. He’s a lazy one, isn’t he?”

“The general?” Your train of thought stops completely, eyes widening as you stare at the merchant. “The general stationed here? Jing Yuan?”

The man scratches the side of his face, looking at you with a lost expression. “Er… yeah, unless they got a new one down here recently. That’s the one.”

Not wanting to trouble the poor man any further, you just shake your head. You’ll think about it later. “I see,” you say. “Alright. Then… when is your next shipment?”

He sighs. That guilty look returns. “Well, see… we just got a new shipment, and he bought out the whole thing. I’m getting in contact with them now, but it’s possible we won’t have any of this brand for at least a month, maybe two.”

Your jaw nearly drops. But you can’t change the facts as they are, so you merely leave the store, befuddled and a little irritated, if you’re honest with yourself.

Jing Yuan is a smart man. What was he really trying to gain by taking all the stock from a poor old merchant? It’s extremely arrogant, and selfish! But those aren’t words you would use to describe the general on a normal day. He must be trying to get someone’s attention. But who on the Luofu would take notice of this specific brand of tea selling out for a little while…?

There’s no way that he’s trying to get your attention. That just doesn’t make any sense.

But you can’t think of anything else that would make more sense than that. Jing Yuan is trying to send you some sort of message, one that you don’t have the mind to decipher at the moment. All you can do is head home for now, empty handed. When you return home, you look in your cupboards for your own stock of tea. The reason you went shopping for some more wasn’t because you’ve run out, but you were going through your own stock quicker than normal now that you own the Meissen. When you look in the jars, there’s just a few servings of each different kind you own left.

So that settles it. Tomorrow, you’ll head to the Exalting Sanctum and see what Jing Yuan could possibly want. And maybe once all is said and done, he’ll give you some of the tea he suddenly decided to hoard for himself.

—

When you set off the next day, you were expecting it to be a little difficult to get to the Seat of Divine Foresight. You were even expecting to be disappointed and turned away, because who are you to request time with the General of the Luofu, the Divine Foresight himself? You're nobody on this ship.

And yet, when you ask the Cloud Knight for permission to head to the Divine Foresight, he asks no questions after you give him your name. You hardly have to wait at all before you’re on the jetty and then in front of the grand doors. When you enter, no one turns their heads to you or questions your presence. They go about work like normal.

You’re exceptionally small in this huge room that’s bristling with importance. With the way your heart is thudding in your chest, you feel like you’ve overestimated yourself and you should head home. But then you remember your nearly-empty jars of tea at home- and while tea isn’t everything to you, the connection you have to it is exceptionally personal. So you brave forward and take a few steps deeper in the large hall.

As quickly as your confidence comes, it wavers. There’s a lion. There’s a lion laying right in the middle of a rather large holographic game set, the animal seemingly waking up from its nap as it stretches its horribly large paws, showing you its sharp claws and dangerous teeth when it yawns. The sound sends subtle waves of terror through your whole body.

Nevermind, you think. You want nothing to do with Jing Yuan or that lion. For all you know, it might think you’re a trespasser or something and tear you to shreds before you can even attempt to explain yourself! You quickly turn on your heel and head back for the doors, skirting by everybody as fast as you can.

You’re too late. By the time you’ve made it to the door, you feel something tug on your bag from behind. When you turn around, the lion is right there, your bag between its teeth.

Oh, no. Oh no. Oh Aeons. No no no.

You manage to hold your scream in, but your whole body feels like it’s been shot as you suddenly lose feeling in your legs. You practically fall against the large door you were trying to exit, using it to keep yourself upright as you shake horribly. Do you look it in the eye? Do you keep your head down? You know nothing about this animal and you don’t know what it would register as a threat or not!!

The large lion stares at you while you practically fall apart into a million pieces in front of it, its eyes a stark blue. It’s actually kind of pretty when you put aside the fact it can split your head in two. Maybe even split you in half with the sheer strength of it.

“H- hey. Hey- help…” you finally muster the courage to use your voice, eyes darting from the lion to the Knights standing nearby and looking unbothered. “H- um…”

The lion drops your bag rather suddenly, making your attention snap right back to it. Then, as if your terror was it’s favorite toy, it opens its large jaw and roars.

This time you cannot hold back your scream. It tears out of you pathetically, a shriek more than anything else. You throw your whole body against the door, realizing that all your strength has disappeared from your terror as you desperately squirm and try to open it to run free. “Oh my Aeons oh my Aeons oh my Aeons-” you feel like crying, not even bothering to register all the people staring at you, “I'm going to die for real it doesn’t matter if I’m immortal if a lion tears me apart, I’ll die for real-”

“Mimi, bad kitty. You know better than to play with people.”

Mimi? Kitty?

You don’t have the courage to look behind you. The lion is still there and you just know that it wants to eat you, and who has the bravery to face that head on? Not you! It’s only when you feel a hand on your shoulder that you stop your scrambling against the door, which was apparently impossible to open, no matter how hard you pushed against it.

“You have to pull on it,” the voice says, filled with a gentle sort of amusement that could only belong to one person. Looking back, you see that of course it’s him. Of course it’s Jing Yuan, smiling at you with a cunning too similar to the lion, as if your terror was his toy, too. “Hello again. I apologize for my cat, I didn’t realize you’d be coming today.”

Like hell he didn’t. Like hell he didn’t. Like hell he didn’t!! His smile says otherwise!

“Lion,” you choke out, looking down at where it sat from behind Jing Yuan, looking rather bored. “Not a cat.”

Jing Yuan just chuckles, his hands moving to your arms to gently coax you away from the door. “You’re right. But you don’t need to worry, she won’t harm you. We’re a bit too bony for her tastes.”

You shoot him a horrified look and Jing Yuan smiles again, looking a little guilty.

“Sorry. What I mean to say is that she’s completely harmless. Will you give me your hand?”

Despite his teasing, Jing Yuan doesn’t force you. He waits patiently with his hand out, his body hovering close to you as if to offer you some sort of protection from the animal. You appreciate it a little. Eyes flickering from his hand and the lion, you visibly hesitate. But you’re here now, and Jing Yuan doesn’t look scared at all. You take his hand.

You’d forgotten how warm it was the last time you were with him. Strong, yet surprisingly uncalloused. He doesn’t battle nearly as much as he used to.

Your thoughts are caught up as Jing Yuan gently leads you forward, guiding your hand down to the lion - Mimi, he had said before. You’re still scared, your whole body growing stiff as Mimi sniffs at your hand. Jing Yuan remains warm and sturdy from behind you, keeping you from pulling away. Only a few seconds tick by before Mimi huffs hot air against your hand, pressing her head forward so your hand makes contact with her muzzle. The touch doesn’t last long before she pulls away, surprising you as her long tongue slobbers across your palm.

“Mimi,” Jing Yuan brings your hand away from her, his voice stern. “Why would you do that?”

The lion makes a certain sound akin to a guffaw before it’s turning away from the both of you, back to the large board set and letting her heavy body fall on the floor, lounging carelessly just like before. When you look up at Jing Yuan, he’s rolling his eyes. “What a sassy animal,” he mutters before he directs his attention to you and your dripping hand. “Let’s go up to my desk. I’ll wipe you off.”

You aren’t given much of a choice, Jing Yuan leading you deeper into the Divine Foresight and across the holographic board. You can tell that people are staring at you, making you nervously stare down at the ground to try and ignore it while you’re led by the arm. The general’s touch is gentle and yet insistent, just as you had remembered it.

He doesn’t make you wait. Once you’re standing by his desk, Jing Yuan gathers a towel that must be here for this exact purpose as he wipes the lion’s sticky saliva off your skin. Thankfully, she wasn’t too slobbery and didn’t get anything on your clothes. “There,” he says, his grip finally leaving your arm. You watch him owlishly as he makes himself comfortable on the grand seat behind his desk, his legs crossing with that familiar smile on his lips. “I really am sorry that she scared you so deeply. If I had known, I would have kept her home today.” His head tilts with a thoughtful look. “Of course, you could have let me know you were planning to come.”

You don’t have the courage to be completely impatient with him, but you dare to sigh. “You say that like I have your contact information and you’re not a renowned general and I’m just a visitor on the Luofu.”

“Just a visitor?” You’ve piqued his interest, Jing Yuan’s eyebrow raising up as he leans back in his seat, hands laced together in his lap. “That’s an interesting thing to call yourself considering how long you’ve been on board and living here. I think you’re more like a resident at this point.”

“And you know how long I’ve lived here?”

“Well, once I realized who you were after our encounter, I may have done some investigating. It’s dreadfully boring here sometimes, so the mind wanders.”

You try to wrap your head around it, as impossible as it sounds. You convinced yourself that Jing Yuan wouldn’t think twice about the day he helped you, but he’s denying that possibility outright. Indirectly telling you that he’s thought of you just as you’ve thought of him as the time has passed.

While it’s a little flattering, it is also undeniably an invasion of privacy, so it’s hard to convince yourself how you should be feeling right now.

“I’m not really anybody, general,” you say after some time spent letting it sink in. Your eyebrows furrow and your lips purse as you look at him. “All that sticks with me is the family name and not much else. So why would you buy out the only tea available on the Luofu that’s owned by my family just to get my attention?”

Jing Yuan hums, long and thoughtful as he leans forward toward his desk, elbow up as he props his chin to rest in his hand. “I wonder…” he says. His eyes boring into you. “Well, like I said, it does get dreadfully boring here sometimes. I worry I’m becoming a boring person myself because of it. Life is mundane when it’s strictly all paperwork and meetings.”

You don’t believe that he did all this just because he was bored. There had to be more to it than that, because there’s a thousand other ways to entertain yourself before coming to this.

“I looked into your history. I suppose we have something in common, so I was intrigued.” His eyes slowly drift away from you with a pondering look before he chuckles. His head turned in the direction of the empty space next to him. “Come here, sit down. There’s plenty of room.”

You give him a strange look, clearly questioning him, and Jing Yuan merely smiles. Waiting patiently. So with not much of a choice or reason not to, you round the desk and delicately sit on the edge of the long seat, trying to put as much space between the two of you as possible. You can hear the laugh that leaves his nose, but he doesn’t say anything to convince you closer before he continues to speak.

“Have you heard the gossip about my past? How my family is originally from the Realm-Keeing division?” He judges by the look on your face that you haven’t. “Well, it’s true. So, how on earth did I become general if that’s where I’m from?” Again, you have no answer. “I did much as you did. I left.”

“You left?” You repeat aimlessly, not realizing how you sink into your seat a little more comfortably. Jing Yuan nods.

“I know I may not look it now, but I was a very ambitious, and frankly, overconfident little thing. I was determined to be part of the Knights. The rest is unimportant.” His head tilts in his hand, eyes closing with his sigh. “I know what it’s like to leave family. To miss family.”

You watch him carefully. He isn’t exactly giving off a somber presence- you have a feeling that any guilt or doubt has rubbed off him a long while ago. His words are surprisingly sincere all the same. “I think we all know what it’s like, general,” you say softly. “A lot of us have been ripped from family due to the war.”

“But not you,” he says, turning his head to look directly at you- that same look from the last time the two of you met that sends a shiver up your spine from the terror and pleasure of his direct attention. “And not I. We both left of our own volition.”

There’s not much you have to say in response to that. He’s said a lot, but he still hasn’t told you why. Hasn’t given you any answers as to his motive.

As if he’s read your mind, Jing Yuan sits upright again and flawlessly changes the subject. “I figured since we have some similarities, maybe we can work together. See, I would like to learn something new, and I think you can help. You owe me a favor, after all.”

You practically choke, balking at him. A favor? Is that how he saw it?

Before your thoughts can spiral any further, Jing Yuan laughs, visibly amused by your reaction. “I’m only joking, of course! You don’t owe me anything. Really, I’m only reaching out for my own agenda, so there’s no need to help me.”

You sigh, realizing that Jing Yuan is practically impossible to pin down. You’d hate him and his smug look if it weren’t for how attractive he looked while he was messing with you, and the flutter in your stomach from the fact he was so comfortable around you. You have no idea why he is, but he is.

“What do you need my help with?”

“So you’re thinking about it?” The general smiles. “Good. What I want from you is… well, to put it simply… tea.”

You can’t help what you say next, despite who he is and the rank he holds as you deadpan.

“You already bought several dozens of it. Why do you need more.”

“I don’t!” He agrees and shakes his head. “And I don’t want to hoard your family's tea, mind you. I’ve tasted it, and the flavour is wonderful. And I’m aware of how your family grows all its own herbs and spices, which is why it’s so unique. So what I’d like from you is… to teach me how.”

Oh. Realization slowly dawns on you as you look at him curiously. “You want me to teach you how to garden? To grow herbs for tea?”

Jing Yuan nods.

“Well… there’s a lot more to it than that. I’d be teaching you a lot. You have to grow them under the right conditions for a better flavor profile, and then there’s the process of rolling the leaves, crushing them, drying them… making sure they get the right amount of oxygen.” These are just some of the steps it takes to make your own brew by hand. “You would want to learn all that?”

The general doesn’t look deterred at all. He’s still smiling at you, his expression relaxing as he stares at you all throughout your clarification. You won’t deny the way it makes your face feel warm, but you're adamant on ignoring it, pretending like it’s not there.

“Will you teach me?” He asks.

You take a breath, realizing something then and there. His question was never really a question at all, not really. How could it be when there was only one answer?

“Of course I will,” you say, watching as his grin grows impossibly wide. “But… are you still going to keep all that tea you bought?”

“Well, I’ll give you whatever you’d like, but I would like to keep the rest. I’ve already distributed it among the commissions and knights to use at work.”

So giving it back was never really in the cards.

#jing yuan #jingyuan #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan reader insert #hsr x reader #hsr reader insert #reader insert #x reader #hsr jing yuan #honkai star rail #honkai x reader

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weirdgenetic-fuckup · 2 months

Text

Sixty Bucks?

A/n: Not sure how I feel about this one, started writing it but lost motivation so hope it's not too bad lol

Warnings: Not proof read, smut and fluff, fingering, squirting, let me know if there's any more you think I should add :3

Guns had been on tour for about a month now and this was their first day off. You were touring with the band as Slash’s guitar tech, he was nice enough but fairly quiet.

The hotel you were staying in was pretty cheap, nothing fancy with the managers wanting to try and cut costs after Axl’s oblivious spending. One thing that’s started to change since the new budget was instated was that you and Slash now had to share a room. There were two beds, so you never worried in that regard, as long as you stayed out of his way and kept to yourself things went smoothly.

This particular place was right on the beach and a more tropical scene. You woke up and the warm golden glow of the sun was flooding in through the window that was open just a crack to get some cool air flowing. You woke up fully refreshed and wide awake, Slash was still crashed from last night's partying. He was sprawled out on his bed, in nothing but his jeans since that’s what he toppled into bed in. A pillow was held over his head with a small window so he could still breathe, his head facing you so he wouldn’t be blinded by the light.

You got out of bed, stretching and cracking your joints. Out the window you saw some flamingos around, beautiful pink birds poking around the small beach outside your room. You quickly went to Slash, grabbing his shoulders and giving him a shake. “Slash!” You called, trying to get him up. “Slash, come on! There’s flamingos outside!”

“Fuck. Off.” He grumbled, shifting away from you.

“Slash, come one! You’ll regret not looking at them now and you know it!” You kept shaking him and he threw the pillow covering his head at you. “Oh, pfft.” You groaned as it hit you in the face.

“Let me sleep, it’s my day off.” You rolled your eyes at his stubbornness.

“Come on! They’re so pretty!”

“You know what else is pretty? Sleep!” Slash stated, lifting himself off the bed just enough to glare at you. You chewed your cheek, crossing your arms and turning away from him to look back at the flamingos out the window. “Flamingos aren’t even interesting.” Slash mumbled, grabbing the pillow he threw back and getting comfortable again. “Fat fucking chicken wings.”

“You’re just mad you’re not as pretty.” You retorted, not even bothering to look at him.

“What was that?” He demanded.

“You heard me.” Slash didn’t say anything after that but you could feel him glaring daggers at you. You kept watching the flamingos, enjoying viewing their daily life. So calm and peaceful, they don’t have to deal with Slash when he’s just woken up.

“Hey,” Slash started, pulling you from your thoughts, “you know, if you’re already up why don’t you help me out real quick?” You raised a brow and turned to look at him. He’d rolled onto his back, the blanket pushed away from him as he lay stretched out before you.

“Help you with what?” You asked. He didn’t respond, just shrugged and rolled his body to be comfortable. Slash let out a soft groan and that’s when you noticed the not so hidden bulge in his jeans. His fly was down and basically framing it. “I-I don’t get paid for that kind of service.” You stumbled out, eyes glued to his clothed member.

“I could pay you.” He said as if this was an everyday thing. Though, for him you suppose it kind of was. “Come on, I’ll make it worth your while.” You can’t say you didn’t like the idea. Since you were hired to be Slash’s tech you thought he looked good, you were sleeping in the same room with him and can’t count how many times you’d thought about crawling into bed with him. You’d seen him with every other girl around and you were waiting for your turn.

“How much?” You asked, taking a step closer to the bed and sitting on the end. The mattress dips under you. Slash reaches a hand out to you, lightly tracing shapes on your thigh.

“How much do you think you’re worth?” He asked, looking up at you and waiting for a genuine answer.

You thought about it, glancing to the ceiling as you pondered. “Sixty?” You finally said.

“Sixty?” He asked. “Sixty what?”

“Sixty bucks?” You replied.

He stared at you for a moment before sitting up. “You think you’re only worth 60 bucks?” You thought about it and shrugged. “Jesus, I’ll give you a hundred right now if you tell me you're kidding.”

You thought about it some more. “Well, how much do you usually pay?”

“Nothing, girls throw themselves at us.”

“So, what’s different between me and those girls?” He paused, taking some time to think about it himself.

Slash shrugged and shook his head. “Come here.” He patted the bed beside him. You didn’t move and just stared at the open space. “Come.” He repeated in a more stern tone. You listened and sat beside him, leaning back against the headboard. Slash’s hand immediately found your thigh, rubbing it and teasing the sensitive inside. He tugged on your fuzzy pyjama pants. “Take these off.” His voice dropped to a whisper, raspy and deep. His breath smelled of whiskey and cigarettes and you wanted to taste it so bad.

You listened to his demand and pushed your pants off, leaving just your panties. They were a nice pair, red and lacey because they make you feel special, like a present no one gets to unwrap. Until now, when Slash slides a finger over you, pushing down at certain points just to watch you squirm. Slash pressed his lips to your cheek, trailing a few more soft kisses to your ear. “You need to know your worth, darling.” He whispered, sticking his tongue out a little and licking around the shell of your ear.

Slash moved your panties to the side and slid a finger through your wet folds. You let out a soft gasp at the feeling, hips already starting to buck into his hand. “Slash.” You whined.

“Yeah? What is it?” He didn’t give you a chance to answer before he pushed a finger into you, drawing a moan out of you. “Is that what you wanted?” He asked with a chuckle, you nodded. His finger worked in and out of you, starting slow and curling into your gummy walls. He pushed another in, stretching you out. “So tight, just for me?” He teased, speeding up his movements.

“Hah- fuck, Slash, I-I can’t-” You tried to keep your head up but it kept falling back at the feeling of his thick, calloused fingers inside of you. He put an arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer so you could rest your head on him.

“Can’t what?” He asked in a teasing tone, kissing your cheek, then jaw and down to your neck. “Gotta use your words, love.”

You let out a loud whine at the name. “Can’t-can’t take it anymore!” Your legs started shaking and your back was arching. The knot in your gut was building in a way you hadn’t felt before.

Slash chuckled. “Cum on my fingers, then, I’ll lick it off.” And with that the knot snapped. Your head rolled back and so did your eyes, moans slipping past your lips without a thought going through your fucked out mind. Your legs shook uncontrollably as you squirted all over Slash’s hand and the pristine white sheets. Slash didn’t stop his hand, instead helping you ride out your high on his fingers. He couldn’t take his eyes off of the scene. “Fuck, didn’t know you’d do that for me.” He praised when you started coming down from the high.

You looked down at the mess you made, wide-eyed, Slash chuckles at your expression. Your breathing was fast and heavy. Slash’s fingers were still buried deep inside you, he kissed your temple and whispered in your ear. “Felt that good, huh?” He curled his fingers, pressing into you.

“Fuck! Slash, no more, no more.” You whined, weakly pushing his hand away.

“No more?” He asked. “We haven’t even gotten to me, yet.”

#slash gnr #slash fanfiction #saul hudson #slash smut #slash x reader #Slash fic #slash #slash x you #gnr smut #gnr x reader #gnr fic

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deoidesign · 3 months

Note

if i may ask, is it difficult at all to re-edit/organize the comic pages from the webtoon format to fit the graphic novel format?

on another note, I'm so happy that your kickstarter was funded!!! I love time and time again, im so excited to see this all happen <3

I'll just turn this ask into something of a guide for the process! Because yes, it is difficult, but there are also many ways I have been preparing from the beginning for this very situation to make things easier for me!

I've worked in both print and scroll in the past, and have done this transition once before for a short story, so I already had familiarity both with my goals for print, and struggles with the transition!

How I prepared from the beginning for this transition:

1: My panels are 2500 pixels wide, so they can span my page (which is 8.3x5.8 inches) at 350 DPI (which is print quality)

2: My layers are organized: Text, FX, Foreground, Characters, Background

3: I draw one very large (twice as big as any panel would be, minimum) background for my major locations, as well as drawing furniture assets in isolation. This not only saves me time when making my actual episodes, but it also offers me INCREDIBLE flexibility when making this transition to print.

These 3 things let me pull the character art to the page by itself, scale it up or down to fit my panel, and then fill in the background behind the character.

So, I read the scroll version, decide how many and which panels I want on the page for the pacing (I also keep page spreads and page turns in mind while I am doing this), and then I pull those panels over from the scroll version to the page.

Then, I make the panel borders/page layout that I want, fit the character art into it, paste in the backgrounds, do any art editing that I need, add FX, and then re-do the text!

Sometimes I do need to draw parts that are missing (shoulders or elbows getting cut off is an extremely common one) and sometimes I need to adjust facial expressions, cut panels, or rearrange panels to make things read more clearly. Since it's my comic already, I know how to do these things while maintaining the original intent, but if I were working with someone else's comic I would need to work closely with them to know what can and can't be cut.

(original panel vs an expanded version)

Another common issue is that VERY tall panels will inevitably lose a lot of information when they’re turned to pages. Identify the purpose of the panel (pacing, showing a lot of detail, etc) and then replicate that with your page layout.

examples (in order) are: scene transition, being overwhelmed, suspense, and establishing shot. All of these were a single panel in the scroll version!

Another issue when converting pages is that panel order is a lot less straightforward than when starting from print format. Conversational back and forth that's fine in scroll often messes up the flow of reading in a page (characters facing out, not looking at eachother from panel to panel, etc) and so some creative solutions are necessary to keeping the reading order.

For the first page I had to delete and rearrange some panels, and in the second the dialogue bubbles guide us to read this page in a circle. (dialogue guides through a lot of my pages lol)

And the last really common issue that pops up is that height differences can be really difficult. Usually in print this is solved with clever angles, but I’ve already drawn everything. So, I’ll either resort to vertical shaped panels, panel pop-outs, or editing a character up or down to fit into the panel.

(examples in order)

So, yes, it is difficult! But I have a lot of experience with both formats, and having prepared for this from the beginning I've been able to make the transition a LOT more smoothly than I otherwise could have.

I hope this helps!

And, thank you about the kickstarter! I'm extremely excited I'll be able to print these, the proofs I've received so far look just absolutely stunning and I'm so so so excited to get to send them to people!!!

Obligatory self promo, if you want to see the kickstarter page and get these four books for yourself, then you can check it out here ^^ It's been funded, so at this point we're just reaching stretch goals and placing orders!

#asks #anon #art tips #comic tips #web comics #comic books #comic advice #also this is just my own experience obviously everyone works differently and I cant promise this will work for you too #but doing things this way I've been able to finish about an episode (15 pages or so) every day #so it's been extremely swift (though also of course a ton of work)#thank you past me for making this so easy!!!#it'd easily take 5x as long without the prep I did!!!

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fakeuwus · 6 months

Text

GUILTY CONSCIENCE | sim jaeyun

now playing ☾⋆⁺₊🎧✩°｡ guilty conscience by 070 shake

⁺ ⋆˚ genre: idol!jake x nonidol/femreader, just angst man am i sorry, established relationship

⁺ ⋆˚ warnings: lowercase intended, cursing, being drunk, infidelity, gaslighting(?), baby is used as a nickname, one suggestive text, jay is mentioned BRIEFLY

⁺ ⋆˚ word count: ~1.2k

⁺ ⋆˚ message from nic: i know i already did a piece ab cheating but all of my works are inspired by songs or i try to connect them to a song,,, i just feel it sets the tone of the story and its fun to connect a story to a song!! and since this song is one of my favs atm i HAD to write ab it. i definitely recommend u guys listen to the song while reading or even listen to it after. kinda ironic how cheating is one of my pet peeves (i fr despise it sm dont get me started) yet here i am writing ab it lmao. i promise i'll write something more lighthearted and/or anything that isn't angst soon LOL. but hope y'all enjoy and feedback is always appreciated!

"5 AM when i walked in, could not believe what i saw"

yn: JAKEY JAKE JAKEY pleaseee come tk the club rn i habent seen u since u got nack :(

jake chuckles at the message as he reads it. he glances over at the clock that reads 4:38 AM. he knows that clubs in korea don’t close until 8 but god damn how are you still partying with your friends this late? he figures that you must’ve had a little too much to drink and your party animals for friends don’t help at all.

jake: ik baby but we had schedules right when we landed and im so tired… how are u even still there rn???

yn: TOO MICJ FUN :D

yn: COME HAVE FUN WITH ME BABY ;)

jake: u make it rlly hard to say no to u

jake: ill be there soon<3

jake sighs as he rises from his bed, making sure not to wake jay who’s fast asleep. he envies how jay can be sleeping so peacefully when jake is experiencing the worst jet lag of his life. you being out at 4 in the morning and his racing mind doesn't help him try to get some shut eye either.

he dresses quickly, making sure it's quiet when he exits the dorms. it’s not his finest fashion moment but he could care less about what he looks like. he’s only going out to see you and to possibly save you from whatever crazy antics you and the girls are up to.

jake isn’t going to lie when he says he hasn’t made the best effort to see you after getting back from tour. but he also didn’t lie when he said his schedule was super jam packed these days. he should’ve immediately ran to you as soon as he landed but he just didn’t have it in him. guilt gnawed away at his heart as he hailed a cab to lead him to the club you were having the time of your life at.

jake enters the back of the club smoothly without drawing any attention. thankfully your friends secured a vip table upstairs in a secluded area, making it easy for clubgoers to not notice that an idol was going to a club at godforsaken hours.

approaching the table he sees you right away. it’s not hard to spot your beautiful red dress, hugging every curve on your body. your long hair flows as you sway your hips back and forth. jake smiles to himself. how did he manage to bag the most gorgeous girl in all of seoul, korea? it was clear you were having way too much fun, giggling and dancing with your friends and-

he quietly gasps. the scene before him makes him halt in his tracks. it was like time stopped and the flashing lights began to blind his vision. his heart rate slowed and his palms were becoming clammy.

maybe he was mistaken. there was no way you would do this to him, he thinks. but there you were cuddled up next to a man, drunk out of your mind. jake can't stand another minute watching you and the mysterious person grind up against one another.

in a blinded rage he rushes towards the guy and pushes him away from you with all of his power. “GET THE FUCK OFF MY GIRL!” you shriek and the guy stumbles backwards sending a few drinks flying off of a nearby table. “YOU MIND TO TELL ME WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON HERE YN?!”

your mouth is agape and your mind is scrambling to figure out what to say. you know you can’t explain how you were practically dry humping a stranger, too shocked and the alcohol still strong in your system. you're struggling to say something, anything to try to make things right.

“and you,” jake turns and gets too close to the man’s face. “she’s clearly too inebriated to make the right decisions. how DARE you take advantage of her like that?!” you’re confused as to why he’s flipping the script and blaming the stranger but jake rips you away from everyone too fast for you to think another second. you stumble as you’re dragged away to a dark corner.

the two of you are standing in awkward silence, no one daring to say a word. your eyes are looking everywhere but jake. you’re too afraid to see what kind of expression his face has. “jake i-” “no. you don’t get to speak right now. there’s nothing you could say to justify what i just saw.”

ragged breaths begin to come out of your mouth and your chest is tightening. “jake please baby i just- i was so drunk and these guys came up to us and…” your sentence trails off, every word you’re saying just sounds so ridiculous at the moment. he’s right. you couldn’t say anything to excuse your wrongful actions.

“and to think i came here at fuck ass o’ clock just to come and see you. i’ve barely gotten an ounce of sleep these days but i gave that up to come because you were BEGGING for me to be here.” his voice is angry and you know he has every right to be screaming at you. at this point tears are threatening to spill from both of your guys’ eyes. “jake… i know i know and i’m so sorry i swear nothing like that-”

“NO. no just no,” he pauses carefully choosing the words he’s about to say next. “you’re right. there won’t be a next time… we’re done.” the tears that brimmed your lashes are now falling. the alcohol that once ran through you is now gone. you move to grab his hand but he takes a step back. the distance between you two grows larger and he seems out of reach.

“jake please we can work this out! please don’t leave me because of this.” your pleas are ringing in his ears but he ignores them. “we can’t come back from this yn. how could you think i’d ever trust you from now on?! don’t contact me ever. have a nice life.” the loud music pounds on the walls just like your heart is in your chest. you’re left alone sobbing, wondering how you managed to fuck up the best relationship you’ve ever had.

jake stumbles out of the club, trying to clutch onto anything to help him out. the fresh breeze of the night blows onto his face and helps him regain his breath. he struggles to get his thoughts together as he walks down the sidewalk back to the dorms.

maybe he was too harsh with the way he spoke to you but he knew it had to be done. seeing you cling onto someone that wasn't him was his ticket out. he knows that you're absolutely going to be broken for awhile but you'll be okay, right? he knows that you're going to blame yourself for this for who knows how long but you're going to be fine in the end, right?

he convinces himself that it's better you than him because now,

he'll never have to admit what he was doing while he was away from you on tour.

"i caught you but you never caught me, i was sitting here waiting on karma, there goes my guilty conscience."

#nic's library ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚#fakeuwus #jake fic #jake enhypen #enhypen fic #enhypen angst #enhypen x reader #jake x reader #sim jaeyun x reader #sim jaeyun #enhypen au #enha #fanfic #fem reader

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coldfanbou · 1 year

Text

Nearly Caught

This was the fic chosen via the weekly poll we have. I hope you can all enjoy it. While I did say it would involve two 3rd gen idols I never said it would be a threesome lol. Rather simple with some spanking, but nothing rough.

Length 1.8K

Tzuyu x Mreader, Mina x Mreader

Today was the first time you'd have dinner with any of the Twice members. It was nerve-wracking for you, but Mina assured you it would be fine. They all liked you at least a little, and it would only be Tzuyu; the rest of the members had to cancel due to schedules. Her gummy smile was enough to calm you for the moment, and dinner was going well enough. As drinks flowed through the meal, things became a little more lively. Everything went smoothly until you felt Tzuyu's feet at your crotch. She rubbed the sole of her foot against your crotch, you got an erection from her actions, and she knew it too—a devious smile formed across her face as she continued without Mina noticing. Mina chats with her younger member, and Tzuyu can hold the conversation while she teases you. As the meal comes to a close, Mina is thoroughly drunk. You have to carry her to her bed as she struggles to walk. Mina holds you tightly. “Thank you, honey.” She says with a slur

When you return to the dining room, Tzuyu runs her finger along the rim of her glass as she looks in your direction. "I think it's time for you to go, Tzuyu."

Tzuyu stands from her chair and slowly moves toward you, her button-down dress slightly swaying with each step. "But I don't want to leave yet. We could have some fun, couldn't we?" As she reaches you, her hand runs across your bulge. "You're already hard. Why not let me take care of you?" She said in a low voice. Before you can respond, Tzuyu kisses you, wrapping her arms behind your neck to keep you in place. "Mina's going to be asleep; she won't hear a thing."

It must've been all the alcohol flowing through your system when you decide to kiss Tzuyu. She pushes you back until you reach the living room. She mounts you as you fall back onto the couch. Tzuyu grabs your face and kisses you again; this time, her kiss is hungry. She wants more. "Tzuyu-"

"Be quiet; let me take care of you. You have no idea how much I wanted this." Her hands work quickly to take off your pants. She has to dismount you and gets on her knees. As she does that, you take off your shirt. Once your cock is free of its constraints, you notice Tzuyu's big grin. She lacks her lips and gives the head of your cock a kiss. Squeezing the head between her soft lips. Tzuyu pushes past the head and takes part of your shaft in her mouth as she bobs her head. One hand fondled your balls as the other pumped on the part of your shaft that she wasn't sucking. Her tongue swirls around your cock as she tries to take more of it in.

"Fuck Tzuyu, that feels amazing," you moan. Tzuyu giggles hearing you moan her name. She hits you with puppy eyes as she keeps going, arousing you further. You place your hand on the top of her head, and Tzuyu pushes herself further down. You feel your cock hit the back of her throat. The tightness of it feels incredible and drives you to the edge. "Tzuyu, I'm going to cum." Tzuyu starts face fucking herself hearing you say that. She forces herself to reach the base of your cock before returning to just the head. She laps at the head for a moment. Tasting you're precum before diving back to the base of your cock. After she does this one more time, you explode, and your cum floods into her mouth, filling her cheeks. Tzuyu hadn't expected that much cum, and it overflowed. Your cum seeps from the corner of her mouth and down her chin onto her dress.

Tzuyu slowly drinks all the cum in her mouth, exaggerating her movements to make it more erotic. "Tasty," she says as she starts to collect the cum that escaped her. Once she's got everything, Tzuyu starts to unbutton her dress; slowly, you see her slight cleavage unobscured by a bra, then her toned abs, and then you notice she wasn't wearing any panties.

"Not wearing any panties? Did you plan this out?"

"Of course not. I just love the ease of access it gives me." She says as she mounts you again. Tzuyu aligns herself with your cock and lets her weight push her down. Your cock splits open her folds as you push deep into her. "Oh, that's it, you're filling me up. Mina always said your cock was big, but it's so different feeling it inside me than imagining it." Tzuyu grinds on your cock; you focus on the feeling of her pussy wrapped around your cock, rubbing every part of it evenly. Soon enough, Tzuyu feels comfortable enough to start moving. She raises her hips before dropping them down forcefully. "Fuck, this is the best. Your cock's so big; it's knocking at my womb." Tzuyu starts to bounce at a moderate pace each time, driving herself to the vase of your cock. Her moans grow loud, and you're forced to kiss her to keep her quiet. You grab onto her hips and help drive your cock deeper into her tight pussy. Tzuyu moans into the kiss, feeling herself near her first orgasm. "I'm going to cum; I'm going to cum" She whispers in your ear. You're interrupted by the sounds of Mina's door opening; Tzuyu hears it too, and she gets off you and hides. She makes sure to grab her dress so as not to leave much evidence.

Mina leaves her room and walks into the living room; spotting you on the couch naked, she asks while slurring, "what are you doing honey?"

Still drunk, she isn't in an entirely right state of mind. "I was masturbating; I didn't want to bother you."

"Oh honey, I'll always help you," she says while walking toward you. Mina starts stripping out of her clothing and is completely naked by the time she reaches you. She gets by your ear, "Do you want my pussy or my ass, baby?" She asks.

"I want your pussy." Mina whines a little and has a sad expression. You reach over and squeeze her ass, "You know I want your ass too, but I want to put a baby in you first."

Mina's frown turned to a smile, "Oh baby, you should've said that first." She straddles you and lowers her hips until she feels your head push past her outer lips. She coos as she takes in more of your cock. You grip Mina's ass as you stand up. Mina yelps as you do but quickly wraps her legs around your waist. You start thrusting into Mina, driving your cock deep into her slick pussy. "Fuck me, baby, just like that!" She screams as you continue to pound into her. Mina's pussy cradles your cock as you ram into it. Mina raises your head for a kiss. You start spanking Mina's ass, turning it bright red. Mina whispers, "I've been such a naughty girl, baby. Spank me harder." You do so, rubbing Mina's ass before sending your hand crashing into it. Pained moans come from Mina with each strike. Soon her legs tighten around you. "Fuck I'm going to cum. Give me your baby batter, knock me up and make me a mommy!" She screams as her climax washes over her. Mina's back arches, and she flings her head back. Her tightened pussy forces you over the edge, and you paint Mina's pussy white with your cum. "Take it all, Mina!" You yell as you cum. Mina's legs release their hold on you, and she stands once you pull out of her.

Your cum starts to drip out of Mina as she kisses you, "thank you, baby." Mina starts wandering back to bed. "Don't stay up late. I need to sleep after that." You sit back on the couch and hear the door to Mina's room close. As soon as the door closes, Tzuyu emerges from behind the sofa.

"Looks like Mina got all the cum I worked so hard for. At least I got a good show out of it. You know, I'm still close. I was fingering myself while I watched you pour all that delicious cum inside her. I want that too, you know." Tzuyu walks around the couch and straddles you again. As you push deep inside her pussy again, you note the differences between Mina and Tzuyu. Tzuyu was tighter, but Mina's felt like she made for your cock. You weren't going to tell Tzuyu that, though. Tzuyu bounced on your cock, moaning whenever she felt it hit her womb. "Do you see it? Look at how your cock is bulging from my pussy." She says, drawing attention to your cock, creating a visible bulge. "I'm so close. Are you going to cum inside me like you did, Mina? I want it; please cum inside me."

"I'm going to cum soon too."

"Cum inside me, do it. Flood my pussy with your seed. Get me pregnant; I won't tell anyone; this will be our dirty little secret." Tzuyu's words stir something inside of you, and you start thrusting upwards when she drips her hips. "Oh fuck. Do you like the sound of that? Getting me pregnant while your wife is sleeping in the other room?"

"You're going to be my little cumslut from now on, Tzuyu." You grab her hips and start slamming her down in time with your thrusts. Tzuyu kisses you to keep from screaming as she begins to cum. You feel her pussy squeeze down on your cock, milking it as you start to cum. Your seed floods her womb, filling her to the brim. Once your orgasms end, Tzuyu leans her body against yours, tired.

"Your cum feels so hot inside me. I'll make sure to be a good cumslut for you." Tzuyu unmounted you and started to get dressed. "I have to go now before Mina gets back up. It's been fun; I hope we can do this again soon." Your cum drips down her legs as Tzuyu kisses you one final time before leaving your apartment.

As time went on, it seemed like you had a bit of luck on your side. Tzuyu never got pregnant, while Mina did. When Mina couldn't have sex anymore, Tzuyu provided you an outlet for all your sexual frustration. You would occasionally call out of work and visit Tzuyu, where you'd spend the day fucking her until she was covered in cum. Then you would shower and come home to Mina, who didn't suspect a thing.

#mina smut #tzuyu smut #twice smut #kpop smut #m reader #male reader

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merakiui · 4 months

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I just love how you made TMDGJade and reader's relationship seem so natural😭 Like it's like they are legit MADE for eachother, regardless of their feelings.

Their banter, the way they talk to eachother and just the general vibe flows so smoothly and naturally, it's just so nomnomnom

Whilst with Floyd it's more awkward, choppy and rough. There is no flow at all which kinda shows how I think their relationship would have been if they got together.

Jade is reader's match, wether she likes it or not. Or well, that's what I think atleast

OMG YES,,, this is exactly what I was hoping to portray for each dynamic and I'm really happy you could enjoy that aspect!!!!! The very awkward, unnatural interactions with Floyd contrasted with smooth, genuine interactions with Jade! I wanted to write Reader and Jade in a way where their chemistry was so good it could make you wonder if they were just friends or secretly more (which is what Ace picks up on in the Mostro Lounge scene). >:D

Jade and Reader undergo a natural progression in their relationship (acquaintances -> friends -> whatever they're choosing to call themselves by the end of the story lol). It's perfectly authentic, and they play off of one another very smoothly. With Floyd, everything's forced and there isn't much rhythm to their conversations because Reader isn't living in the moment and enjoying the interaction as it is. She's too worried about trying to say and do things that will keep Floyd entertained so he won't get bored. But with Jade she's perfectly in the moment and it allows her to shrug off her worries and act as herself without having to fret over being someone Floyd might like.

They truly are made for each other. <3 and they didn't even realize it. Whether as friends or lovers or something complicated in between, Jade and Reader can't deny the fact that they have such a natural chemistry!!! (˘ ˘ ˘)

#sweet messages #they are soulmates to me!!!!#jade is such a wife guy too #he loves you so much T_T he dotes on you every second he can #you are his entire world

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seraphinitegames · 11 months

Text

The Wayhaven Chronicles - Update 02/June/2023

I don’t think I’ve ever had a book plan come together as smoothly and as organically as Book Four is shaping up!

Even when I stepped away from the main plan to work out some parts of bigger scenes coming up later in it…they just flowed!!

The variations are slotting into place, and the ideas for how to go about one of the different ways I want to try something just for Book Four is really working!

It feels INCREDIBLE! :D

One of the extra things I did this week too to help was change from planning on lined paper to squared paper. I know, it sounds strange, but it really works for me, hehe!

My brain goes into intense mode when I’m planning with so many ideas, particularly with this book, and I scribble it down as fast as I can to get those thoughts out.

But that can mean it gets very messy, and I struggle to read my own notes sometimes, lol!

Yet for some reason writing on squared/grid paper makes me write SO much neater even when I’m writing super fast!

One of the things I’m gonna do also is start working on the character sheet for the antagonist. They are such a complete character already as the plan has come on that I want to get them down fixed.

That’s one of my tasks for next week, along with social media days and, hopefully, even more super smooth planning!

Hope you all have the most incredible weekend! We’ll be offline as usual so I’ll talk to you again soon!

#the wayhaven chronicles #interactive fiction #personal #update #twc book 4

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heliads · 2 years

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harry potter request!

well, can you please do one with Theodore Nott where he's grumpy with everyone, but he seems to be very humorous around the reader? like teasing her or doing something to get her attention bc they are rival academics? i would appreciate it! tysm.

sorry if it sounds confusing.

ok i've never written for theo before so i hope this isn't extremely out of character lol but it was fun!

masterlist

You are on the verge of greatness. Merlin, it’s so hard to focus on essays these days, especially with the weekend just around the corner, but you think you might manage it now. The words are flowing smoothly from your pen, plucked out of your mind like a fresh fruit and laid to rest on your parchment. You especially need your focus now, because your counterargument is looming around the corner and you haven’t quite got it down yet. This essay is due soon, too, so you really, really need your concentration–

And it’s gone, snatched away by the boy sitting behind you. Of all the places to study in the Hogwarts library, you’re not sure why he had to choose the table right behind you. Your backs are practically touching. It’s awful, and you certainly can’t pay attention to your thesis right now.

Vexed, you drop your quill pen with a clatter to the table and turn around so you can face the aforementioned boy. “Theodore Nott, you do realize that I actually need to be studying, right?”

Theo, as charming as always, just flashes you a smile. He’s already looking at you, forearm draped casually over the back of his chair.

“Is that not what you were doing now? I suppose I’m confused as to why you’re suddenly addressing me.” He says.

You roll your eyes. “Because you haven’t been staring at me for the past half hour? I know you’re doing it, by the way. What could possibly be so entertaining about watching me scribble out an essay?”

Theo flashes you a bright grin, all sharp teeth and twinkling eyes. “Oh, nothing. It’s just funny that you think you’re going to get the top grade on that essay. We both know I’m far better at Transfiguration.”

You arch a dubious brow. “I’m sure you are. Didn’t I get an Outstanding on the last exam, though? As my memory serves me, you only got an Exceeds Expectations. That’s almost laughable.”

Theo doesn’t seem particularly fazed by this. Indeed, he only leans closer to you, gaze sparking as if you truly are his favorite form of amusement.

“Almost laughable? Y/N, my dear,” he says through lips tugged upwards, “I’m hurt. Truly.”

You laugh. “If I actually believed that, I would be out of my mind. Not unlike you thinking that my essay isn’t going to totally blow yours out of the water, by the way.”

Theo grins back at you. “I appreciate your confidence. It is terribly misguided, of course, but I’m glad you can keep your spirits up at a time like this.”

You give him a look. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Theo replies. “Absolutely. Positivity is important, but it will not save you from getting the second best score. That’s a proven fact.”

You strongly consider sticking your tongue out at him, but decide against it just in time. “Proven by whom? A certain Mr. Theodore Nott?”

He arches a brow. “No, although I’m sure he’s a very credible source. I’m talking about every class ever. I get it, you want to block that out of your mind, but the truth is the truth. I suppose I’m just too good.”

You open your mouth to argue with this, but you’re cut off by the ring of the bell signaling the end of study hall. You settle for a cross look, and start to gather up your supplies. Behind you, Theo pushes in his chair (as if he’s got any manners whatsoever, the git) and has the audacity to raise a casual hand in goodbye before he goes.

You watch him go with a purely irritated look, and find yourself surprised to notice that the corners of your mouth refuse to flatten out of a smile. It’s easy enough to distract yourself by pushing your quills and stacks of parchment into your bag, and once you head out of the library, you’ve almost forgotten the whole encounter. So you tell yourself, at least.

There’s somebody waiting for you just outside the library door, a dark-haired girl with her arms crossed viciously against her chest.

“You were supposed to meet up with me fifteen minutes before study hall ended, you know,” she complains, “I’d like to know what happened to stop that from happening.”

You just laugh. “Come on, Pansy, that wasn’t my fault. I was trapped by a very irritating Theo Nott.”

Pansy Parkinson may be the scourge of all Gryffindors and the occasional Ravenclaw who’s crossed the line, but to you, she’s one of your closest friends. You’ve long since learned to disregard her sharp tongue, as most of her barbs aren’t meant to wound.

Still, to any stranger walking by, Pansy appears to be just as nettled as ever. “Theo, huh? How could he possibly get in the way? The guy refuses to talk to anyone he deems below him, which is basically everyone.”

You raise a brow, glancing over at your friend in bemusement. “Seems familiar, doesn’t it?”

Pansy rolls her eyes. “Oh, stop with the attitude. I’m just telling the truth. Theo is constantly in a foul mood, and he never talks to anyone unless he can help it. Of course, I have noticed him talking to you, though. Today is just another example of that.”

Pansy’s grinning rather triumphantly, which never spells good things for you. “What do you mean by that?” You ask, somewhat nervous.

Pansy just lifts a shoulder. “You know exactly what I mean. Theo doesn’t seem to hate you as much as he hates the rest of us. I’m just wondering why.”

You scoff. “As if. He spent the entire time today just trying to mess with me so I would screw up on my essay and he would get a better grade. Trust me, Theo dislikes me as much as the rest.”

Pansy doesn’t seem all that convinced, though. “I wouldn’t be too sure about that. Give me some time, I can prove it.”

That raises even more alarm than before, but Pansy refuses to clarify. Instead, she switches the topic to the latest Potions assignment, something you’re all too happy to talk about instead. The sooner Pansy forgets about this, the better.

However, in all the time you’ve known her, Pansy rarely gives up on an opportunity when it crosses her path. Thus, you suppose you shouldn’t be all that surprised when you find yourself discussing the same topic about three days later in Charms.

Across the room, Professor Flitwick is yammering about the spell you’re about to do, and Pansy leans over to whisper something to you.

“Look, here’s your chance to prove how Theodore feels. We’re supposed to practice this spell with partners, right? Watch this.” Pansy says, eyes bright with self justification.

You glance at Theo, sitting somewhat innocently across the room. Once Flitwick announces that it’s time to pick a partner, Pansy scampers over to Theo, smiling at him as if they’re the best of friends.

“Say, how about we work together for this spell? I think we would–”

Pansy is cut off by the iciest glare you’ve ever seen on a Hogwarts student. Although Pansy and Theo are both Slytherins and therefore at least partial allies, Theo’s supposed preferential treatment doesn’t extend to her. He shakes his head once, eyes cold.

“I think I’ll pass. Go chase down another unlucky soul, will you? I’d rather be by myself for this one.”

You have to fight back a laugh at Pansy’s irate look, but she just walks back to you as if she’s won. “See what I mean? Borderline cruelty, right there. Now it’s your turn.”

You shake your head. “Not a chance. He’s going to know what we’re doing, it’s pretty obvious. I think you’ve proved your point.”

Pansy, however, is not going to take no for an answer, especially not after being shut down by Theo so quickly. “You can’t back out of this now, Y/N. Go. Besides, if you don’t do it, it’ll basically be like you’re admitting I’m right and you’re too scared to ask him.”

That does it. You are a Slytherin through and through, after all, and that means your pride has a fair amount of say in what you choose to do. At last, you give Pansy a vexed look, then grab your bag and cross the Charms classroom.

Theo looks up when you slide into the seat next to him, but you don’t give him a chance to speak, already pulling out your wand and glancing up at the instructions Flitwick’s written across the board.

“We’re doing Incendio again? Didn’t we learn that years ago?”

Theo’s mouth is twitching into something that could almost resemble a smile. “I believe we did, but we keep forgetting it, so we get the reminder. What are you doing here?”

You toss him a bored look, as if surprised that he hasn’t already caught on. “I’m working with you on the spell, I thought it was obvious.”

Despite your supposedly cavalier attitude, your breath catches in your chest just slightly, waiting for the shoe to drop and Theo to dismiss you just as harshly as he did Pansy. You’re certainly expecting it, he teases you every chance he gets. Surely that doesn’t mean preferential treatment, right? Surely you can’t expect anything from him the way Pansy believes you will?

However, Theo’s surprised look just transitions into a slow and steady grin. “I should have known.”

“Yes,” you say briskly, “you should have.”

Your remarks are just a way of hiding your sudden relief, of course. Looks like Pansy was right. And, glancing across the room to where your friend is wearing a grin no less pleased than Theo’s, she knows it too.

During the entire class period, you can’t focus for a second. Thank Merlin the spell is one you’ve done before, as you don’t think you have the attention span to learn something new. All you can think about is that Pansy was right, Theodore really does seem to like you better than anyone else, even Pansy Parkinson herself. Why would that be?

You keep stealing glances at him, but Theo seems just as amused by the whole thing as you are. Does he wonder why you’re here? Evidently, it doesn’t seem to trouble him all that much or he would have been mean to you, too, but still. The fact remains that you have no idea how to behave around him. Seems like some things will never change.

Once the class ends, you start to leave as soon as you can, but a hand descends around your wrist, stopping you in place. When you turn back around, you realize that Theo is the one grabbing your hand, although you’re not sure that you mind it.

“Wait for me,” he says, “I want to know what’s going on with you.”

You do your best to not seem guilty. “What does that mean?”

Now that he’s certain you’re not going to try to lose him in the crowd (although it seems like a rather pleasant possibility), Theo lets go of your wrist. You’re not sure if that makes you more or less sure of yourself.

“You never sit with me in class, and certainly not during a partner assignment. Why did that change today?”

Theo asks it simply, but you’re not sure how you’re supposed to respond. How do you tell him that you only did it to prove to your friend, and perhaps even to yourself, that Theo likes you better than the others? You’d then have to explain why that matters so much to you, and you’re not sure that you want to get into that right now.

Still, it doesn’t seem that you’re going to have much choice. At last, you swallow the last of your misgiving and speak, using the clamor of everyone filing into the halls to mask your words from the general public.

“Why don’t you hate me?”

Theo blinks, surprised. “What do you mean?”

You gesture vaguely around the corridor as the two of you walk. “You joke with me and not with anyone else. Not even with the other Slytherins.”

Theo’s expression clears. “That’s why Parkinson came up to me during Charms, wasn’t it? The two of you were testing me.”

You respond quickly before he can grow too upset. “And we weren’t wrong, were we? All this time, I thought you just didn’t like me. Guess I was wrong.”

Theo glances at you, smirking slightly. “You thought I didn’t like you? You really couldn’t be more wrong.”

Your brow furrows. “What does that mean?”

His smirk grows, and a moment later, he’s pulling you into an empty classroom, taking advantage of the privacy to kiss you. The moment you realize what’s going on, he’s pulling away, but it’s still enough to make the ground swim beneath your feet.

“That’s what I meant,” he says. By all accounts, it’s a pretty good explanation. In particular, it’s one that you’re perfectly fine with hearing again and again.

harry potter tag list: @rogueanschel, @cameronsails, @neewtmas, @lovesanimals0000, @with-inked-solace, @sher-lokid7, @amortensie

#theodore nott #theodore nott imagines #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott oneshot #theo nott #theo nott imagines #theo nott x reader #theo nott oneshot #harry potter #harry potter imagines #harry potter oneshot #harry potter theo #harry potter theo imagines #harry potter theo oneshot

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raythekiller · 10 months

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hi!! this is the anon from the corrupting hoodie ask lol. your writing is amazing!!!! it just flows so smoothly and has really good descriptions and wohwkwnw you’re really carrying the crp imagines fandom!!! may i request hoodie with a prudish reader? tysm!!

🗒 ❛ Heaven And Back ༉‧₊˚✧

Featuring: Hoodie

#Notes: I already did plenty of headcanons so here's a little scenario

pronouns used: none, gn! reader

˗ˏˋ back to navigation ´ˎ˗

"HAVE you ever touched yourself before?" Brian signs as he breaks apart from rhe kiss, leaving you slightly breathless and wishing for more. You avert your gaze shyly before answering, "O-once, but... It- it didn't feel right..." He shifts his head to the side with a curious and cocky gaze, running a hand up your thigh - his way of saying to you to tell him more. "I just... I-I couldn't help but think that... It'd feel better if it was you doing it to me instead..." You finally admit, cheeks burning bright red with embarrassement.

He swears he could've lost his mind right then and there. He placed you on top of his thigh with rough hands, grabbing your hips and moving you back and forth lightly, motioning for you to start riding it. You comply, although a bit bashful. "I-I've never done this before... I hope that doesn't put you off," He giggles teasingly before signing again, letting go of your hips for only a second so he could speak before grabbing them again, "It turns me on even more,". He quickly helps you pick up the pace, soft moans starting to leave your lips as a heat formed in your stomach. God, you looked so beautiful like that. He couldn't wait to bring you over the edge again and again.

#creepypasta #creepypasta headcanons #creepypasta x reader #ray.writes #hoodie #hoodie x reader

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dindjiarin · 2 years

Text

Streetwise Hercules - (Sierra Six x F!Reader)

Sierra Six is paid to safeguard you. Too bad he's bossy and sarcastic and hot as shit.

A/N: This was supposed to be a 3k blurb and it is ... not. I'm so sorry lmao. I love this man and I want to hold him and never shut up about him.

This is a prequel, but - like Part One - I think you can read it alone. I think it's best to read Parts One and Two first since I wrote this last lol.

Shoutout to @crownofdecit for hyping me up 🥹

TAGS: Angst, Fluff, Lead Up To 👉👌, Snark, Six Being a Sassy Sexy Bitch, Idiots to (Eventual) Lovers

WARNINGS: None. Curse words? Sheer horniness without relief?

WORD COUNT: oh god I don't even want to tell you guys (it's 9.9k. I'm adding lil dividers and breaks because I know it's long)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

How exactly was this place designed to be a “safe” house?

The house was a single story with more glass than wood. Floor-to-ceiling windows lined the east side, while trees guarded both sides. The lot sits on a downward slope, a valley in the background.

The amount of glass made it look insecure if anything. But, you had no say in it - if you wanted to be paid, you’d work here. You’d not given your employers a timetable on your project, and you had hoped they wouldn’t request one. They hadn’t. Unfortunately, that meant your stay here would be indefinite.

After a long ride across a border you hadn't been able to read, a mysterious driver had dropped you off in the gravel driveway. A single custodian had been sweeping when you pulled up, and he had been less than welcoming. You’d said, “Hello,” but the young man had simply inclined his head at you and continued his task.

In less than half an hour, you had found your room and unpacked most of your belongings into the rattan dresser. It was evident the money spent on this secluded hide-out was in its design and the protection detail, not the furniture. You notice there is no en-suite bathroom, and the nearest one is down the hall.

That’s annoying.

The only other room along this hallway must be the bodyguard’s room. It’s at the opposite end, facing yours. You suppose that’s so he can keep an eye on you, and you sigh. It’s hard to believe you could need all of this fuss. You’ve worked in high-security locations and needed top-tier clearances before, but having to leave your apartment to live in this place while an unknown man supervised you? That was not something you’d get used to quickly.

It was Sunday, so, seeing as you preferred to keep a regular work week, you decided you’d survey your workstation tomorrow. You tour the kitchen.

A marble countertop complete with a coffee machine, stovetop, and hanging microwave mark the space. Next to the coffee machine, you notice a crystal vase filled with an amber liquid.

Don’t mind if I do.

The whiskey flows smoothly into your glass, the smoky aroma soothing. You then take a seat at the island bar. The late afternoon light comes through the glass patio door, heating the space. Your head cranes to the right to study the view, mentally wandering through the hills, the trees, and the city far below. The whiskey is excellent, burning your throat pleasantly.

The hinged squeak of the front door opening rings through the house. You swivel counterclockwise on your barstool. A man in a dark gray suit steps over the threshold and into the living room, shutting the door behind him. It’s darker in that section of the house, so he flips the switch to his right. A ceiling fan blinks to life above him, and his blonde hair is highlighted.

“Oh, hi,” you smile.

You hop off the stool gracefully and stroll through the large, open doorway between the living room and kitchen. Extending your hand, you meet him between the couch and the flat-screen television.

You’re stunned by how handsome he is. His eyes are kind and brilliantly blue. His hair is parted to the side and lightly gelled, and his suit barely covers the fact that he is rather muscular. That last part you had expected given his job title.

“Hello,” he says simply, shaking your hand with the slightest grip.

His jaw is working, and you realize he's chewing gum. When he drops his hand to clasp them together, as if he’s at ease, you notice a tattoo of a palm tree and a sunrise on his left hand.

“You weren’t supposed to be here yet. I haven’t had a chance to look around.” He chides.

“Oh,” you’re taken aback by his directness. “I was just given the address and told to be here today. They didn’t give me a time. I wasn’t told anything, actually. Didn’t even tell me who I’d be meeting.” You laugh, hoping he’ll tell you his name without you needing to ask.

“They didn’t tell you -?” He’s frustrated by the poor organization. Anyone could’ve met you here and you’d have believed anything they said. He decides to make further progress in his planning than he’d originally intended for tonight. “Alright. I’ll get to work. I’ll stay out of your way.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you insist in reactive politeness. Taking into account his brusque, business-like manner, you amend quietly, “I’ll stay out of yours.”

He nods once in agreement.

Taking the hint that the conversation is over, you turn around and head back toward your barstool. The kitchen is dimmed in the growing dark, so as you walk through the doorway, you reach out for the light switch.

From behind you, you hear steps, firm and determined, which make you instinctively turn your head to face him.

“Actually, can you sit here on the couch while I…?” He trails off and makes a circling motion with his index finger.

“Sure, yeah.” You’re getting nervous about how seriously he’s taking his job, so you sit as he requested.

Is there an actual threat to me? Am I actually in danger? You eye your whiskey glass on the counter.

As he steps into the kitchen, he sees the alcohol and quizzes, “Did you bring that yourself?”

“No,” you answer, already knowing he’s about to tell you that you can't drink it.

“Don’t drink it.”

“I believe it was courtesy of my employer. I’ve already had several sips - it’s fine.” You assure, a touch annoyed.

You know caution is his job, so you’re mindful of your tone. His impersonal manners are disappointing given how long you'll be around him.

He doesn't reply. Instead, he looks blankly at you before grabbing the drink and delivering it to you. Your fingers close around his as you take the glass, and you smile in gratitude.

Something tells him this is going to be a frustrating assignment; you don’t seem to feel at risk. And truthfully, you don’t. He’s here as an extreme precaution on part of your company. But this man appreciated better than anyone that life could change in an instant.

The next morning you’re awoken by your alarm. You silence the phone and grab a change of clothes. You crack open your bedroom door, hoping the bathroom is free so you can shower. Luckily, the man from last night is nowhere to be found.

He never told me his name; that’s so weird, you realize.

He had checked the house and found nothing of interest, then returned to the living room, motioning to you that you were free to go. He'd spoken no further, and you'd kept your word about staying out of his way.

After getting ready for your day, you walk into the living room to find your workspace. You open the only door you’d not been through: a nondescript wood-paneled barrier beside the kitchen. Sure enough, inside is an array of equipment and a desktop computer. Everything you’d need to perform your job is located in this garage-sized space.

You march into the kitchen to make yourself a pot of coffee. In a cabinet, you’re drawn to a mug with an artist-rendering of the sun. It’s a cloudy morning, so you find it appropriate.

You stand in front of the coffee maker, waiting patiently for it to stop brewing, drumming your fingers on the counter in time with the song stuck in your head. The hair on the back of your neck prickles, so you turn your head to look around. Seated at the bar behind you is the man, dressed now in a bright blue suit, focused on his laptop.

“Oh, my god!” You exclaim, nearly dropping the empty mug. “When did you get in here?”

“You didn’t hear me sit down?” The man queries, his eyes jumping from the mug in your hands to your face.

“Obviously not,” one hand presses over your heart. You can't help but notice that his eyes match the color of his suit.

He snorts once in levity at your misplaced distress and returns to his computer.

“I’m glad you find it funny, Mr. - ?” You prompt.

"You don't need to call me ‘mister,’” he says politely without looking up.

“Okay, well, what do I call you? 'Chatterbox'?” You’re irritated by his lack of apology for scaring you and poor conversational skills.

He looks up sharply, but his eyes are entertained. "I think we’re getting off on the wrong foot,” he states. “You can refer to me as Six.”

Given that this man is your only source of human interaction for an unknown length of time, you're willing to take the second chance.

You reply, “Okay, Six. The right foot sounds good. We’re stuck in this house together. Let's not make it weird.”

“We’re on the same page, then,” Six observes drily, his eyes returning to his laptop.

The coffee maker audibly spits out the last few drops into the pot, and you quickly pour yourself a cup; without speaking another word to the man, you disappear into your workspace to begin.

Four weeks later, you’ve established a routine: each morning, you’d pull out the same mug, make your coffee, and wait for Six to make an entrance somehow. He was generally unable to form routines due to his lifestyle, but each morning he would enter the room from a new direction, laptop in hand, and sit.

The first week, Six’s stealthy entrances had caused you to jump in alarm. He would be standing around the corner or appear behind you when you least expected it. On mornings when you’d slept well, you’d laugh. After that first time, Six started to kindly apologize when he scared you.

He didn’t speak much outside of a “Good morning,” unless you spoke first. Forcing an intimidatingly attractive man who doesn’t want to speak to do so was nerve-wracking. Sometimes you felt too shy to talk to him, but some mornings you were brave enough to ask him how he slept, or what he had planned for the day. He'd always respond with the fewest words in a courteous tone, but you found his patience in indulging your questions somehow charming.

Six started to find the morning routine oddly compelling. He enjoyed watching you drink from the same mug, the same amount of coffee, and make the same well-mannered smile at him. Technically, it was something mundane, calm, and normal - but not to him. To Six, this was fascinating. He knew that letting himself enjoy the company of another person, however silent he remained, was dangerous for his psyche, but this wasn’t a permanent job - he could be reckless short term.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One Friday evening, you send out a week’s-end report to your company then wonder what you’ll do for the next two days. You’d spent the past three weekends working. It’s not a major problem considering your average time off was spent reading or watching your favorite movies on rotation, but you could go for a normal conversation with normal people tonight.

Unfortunately, you’re not able to leave the house unless approved by Six, and you’re pretty certain that will never happen. He had been nice, but distant and a touch paranoid. Maybe you’d work for a couple of hours to get ahead instead - then you’d be able to go home sooner.

You stand from the computer in your lab, powering it off. Exiting the room, you’re nearly run into by Six as he leaves the kitchen.

“Oh!” You exclaim. “I’m sorry.”

You’re not surprised by the sudden butterflies in your stomach. He may be reserved, but his physical appeal was impossible to ignore.

"It’s okay,” his arms had gone up automatically to grab your shoulders, but he drops them before touching you. “I’m sorry, I normally hear you.”

“Huh?”

“I usually know exactly where you are because I can hear you. You’re not very quiet.” He speaks without a hint of scorn, but the accusation offends you.

“Of course you can hear me. This is a small house and we’re the only two people in it.”

“You don’t seem to hear me,” Six argues, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips. He pulls out a stick of gum and pops it in his mouth.

“Because you do your best to scare me to death at every opportunity,” you chastise.

“Scaring you to death would defeat the purpose of my being here."

You have no retort to that, so you brush past his sizable shape and laugh, “Touche.”

You squat in front of the shelf beside the TV. If the only person you’ll get to be around is Six, you might as well try to make friends.

“Want to watch a movie?” After passing little pleasantries for a month, you figure it’s a normal enough thing to ask him.

You hear him question from behind you: “It’s Friday night; you don’t want to go somewhere?”

“Am I allowed to?” You don’t look at him.

“Not without me.”

“As much as I’d love to go on a date with you, Six, I think I’ll just sit here.”

He doesn’t respond, and you hear nothing, despite straining to make out his footsteps. If he is still there, you refuse to turn around and give him the satisfaction of knowing you regret your words, so you try to focus on the movie.

It becomes obvious that he did leave at some point as you hear the water running in the hallway bathroom to your right. You feel your body relax.

When the movie ends, you pick up a book and retire to your room. As you close the door, Six leaves the bathroom in only a towel. He doesn't see you as he walks toward his own room. His bare back fills your vision despite the distance, and you find yourself staring. He's built powerfully. His smooth skin is broken on his left arm by a jagged, discolored scar.

You inhale sharply at the visual representation of the kind of life he lives, and his head whips around at the sound. You slam your door shut, praying in vain he didn't perceive you.

He stares at your now-closed door, one eyebrow raised. Did you just gasp at him being half-naked? Maybe you weren't expecting him to be there and he scared you again. Six decides to ignore it. Or to try to.

Trying to forget the moment yourself, you pull up some music on your phone and lay across your bed, your hands rubbing your eyes. Your phone’s low-quality speakers mean the Bonnie Tyler song you choose isn't loud enough for your liking, but it's so nice to hear something other than silence that you sing along. You sit up and start folding some of the clothes you'd washed the previous night, still singing along.

A quick knock startles you into standing.

He never talks to me after I shut my door, you're curious as to what he wants and you hope it's not to tell you to stop ogling him.

You move to the door and pull it open cautiously. He's fully dressed in a gray t-shirt and sweatpants. You focus your eyes above his neck, but that doesn't help the blushing, either.

"What's up?" You successfully sound casual.

"I can't hear."

"Can't hear what?"

"Myself think," he gestures toward your phone as the last notes of the eight-minute song begin to fade.

He just can't let me have a single shred of pleasure. Your embarrassment abruptly changes to frustration.

"Can't imagine there's much to hear," you snort. Then you grimace, reminding yourself again it's his job to be alert. You cover your eyes with one hand, "I'm sorry. That was not nice."

But he laughs one, short chuckle. He actually laughs, and the shock of it has you drop your hand to gawk at him. He has a nice laugh; it's soft, ironic-sounding. But he isn't explicitly smiling. It's almost as though the sound escaped him at gunpoint.

"Alright. Continue," he allows with an impassive wink, turning away from you. He leaves you standing there gaping after him.

A wink? What the fuck? This man's getting off on flustering me. When he shuts his door, you swear he's hiding a smile.

You can’t quite pin down your feelings. You’re not afraid of him, but he makes you nervous. Though he’s unsociable, you can see there's something soft behind his professional mask. Maybe it was the gentleness of his eyes or the warmth he unwillingly emanated, but it was impossible not to like him.

Periodically, if he felt secure enough, Six would sleep during the night. He was able to get by with five hours' sleep, and he often took that around lunchtime, but tonight he'd let himself rest. After all, this contract was a farce. There'd been no credible intelligence; your company was paranoid. Six could get behind that, but after a full month with no issues, he was confident he'd be able to sleep.

Of course, he kept his laptop on, flipped multiple alarms, and set a timer for every hour. His reputation wasn't for nothing.

He sits on his bed, wondering why he knocked on your door. Yes, he could hear you - you honestly were not quiet - but it wasn't bothersome. Six found himself relaxing at the noise, at the knowledge that another person was nearby, untroubled.

Your openness, even your petty irritation at him, was fun. You were genuine, natural around him. Most everyone treated Six only two ways: with respect or fear. You treated him as if he were an average person. Was that why he found himself paying attention to you?

Six decides that he doesn't want to know why he sought you out, and he lies back, falling asleep nearly immediately.

You spend the weekend alternating between watching movies on the couch and walking laps around the acre of land. It's boring, so you start working again late Sunday evening. While bent over your desk, you hear a rap at the door.

"Yeah?" You call, unwilling to walk away from your task.

"Are you staying in there much longer? You're typically in bed by now."

"Oh, shit, what time is it?" You ask rhetorically as you pick up your phone to check. Eleven-thirty. "Uh, yeah, I'll head to bed."

You organize your materials for tomorrow, then open the door to see Six, arms folded, waiting for you.

"Are you gonna escort me to my room safely?" You tease him, offering a conspiratorial eyebrow raise.

"Would you rather I got you there unsafely?" He rejoins, his brow imitating yours.

"I'd rather not need anyone to get to my room, but I guess I don't have a choice."

You traipse through the living room. You make it just past the couch before it hits you that he hasn’t done this before.

"Why tonight?"

"Sunday Special," he deflects.

As he walks you the few paces down the hallway to your bedroom, you feel faint heat against your lower back, then a tingling sensation at the base of your spine. It feels almost like someone is touching your skin. Brushing it off as anxiety, you slip into your room and away from Six.

"Okay, job well done. Goodnight, Six,” you remark, shutting your door without looking at him.

He makes no noise, but you can almost feel the nod of his head.

One of the cameras had failed. The other four were fine, but Six was nothing if not proactive. If someone was sneaking around, he needed you in your room. As soon as you are out of harm’s potential way, he pulls his weapon.

Six carefully sweeps through the building, checking corners. All clear, he steps out the back door, utterly silent. The malfunctioning camera was the one overlooking the driveway, but if someone had knocked out only one camera, they likely expected him to check there first. He tediously makes his way to the front of the house.

Above the front door, pointed at the ground, was the camera. A small feather clung to the broken piece of tech. Six looks around for the poor bird who must’ve smacked into it, but finds nothing. He reaches up and unhooks the camera. He’d need to either repair it or find a new one.

Satisfied you and he were not under attack, he returns inside. He won’t be going to sleep tonight; his body will remain alert. He begins to tinker with the camera, already looking forward to his afternoon nap.

Several days later, after having had to stop exactly zero intruders, Six feels comfortable enough to continue sleeping overnight. It’s a treat he enjoys too infrequently, and he wakes early Friday morning with energy to spare. He ventures out into the kitchen, enjoying the sun’s rays creeping over the trees. He retrieves his laptop and sits at his usual spot.

Having slept badly, when you walk into the dim room, you're startled by the shape of a man at the bar. Then you notice his profile silhouetted by the sun, and you exhale in recognition.

"I should really just expect you around every corner, shouldn't I?"

He raises his eyebrows at you in jest and shrugs, “Might be best.”

His elevated mood lifts your own. Your smile lights your face. If only he could be this relaxed all the time. You breeze past him to your coffee pot to continue the morning ritual.

Waiting for the machine to brew, you turn, leaning against the counter, and tilt your head toward the window.

"It's not a bad view, huh?"

"I have noticed," he says honestly.

Though that sounds nearly sarcastic to you, to Six it's another slip in his exterior. He doesn't often get the chance to enjoy something for its beauty, but he has been taking full advantage lately.

Your workday is long, but you take a break near lunchtime to find Six seated where you'd left him. You grab an apple from the stocked fridge, then pull a clear glass from the cabinet. In the shiny reflection of the stainless-steel fridge, you notice Six's head tilt to look at you. You fill the glass with water from the tap, then turn and set both items in front of the curious blonde.

"What's that for?"

"You. This is food and water." You grin. More seriously, you wonder, "Have you eaten? I don't think you have."

Six was typically excellent about fueling his body, it was his livelihood as well as his life, but you were right, he had neglected it this morning.

He blinks for a moment, unsure what your angle is. "Why- are you giving it to me?"

"Because I can," you state. "I didn't poison it." You smirk at him and make a face like maybe you should have.

"A poisoned apple would be cliche. I'm sure you have something more creative in mind for me." He examines you, his eyes shining.

You can see his lips fighting a smile. It makes you want to try harder; you need to make this man lighten up.

"Nah, I need you, Six. Who else would I not talk to every day?"

Six licks his lip and shakes his head in defeat. He huffs a short laugh, and you chalk up a victory.

You slap the counter and cheesily announce, "Alright, see you around."

The weight of his eyes on you as you leave the room makes you feel giddy.

Been a while since I've had a crush, you laugh to yourself. From his wit to his patience, his profound eyes to his muscular build, Six makes your stomach twist.

Six is left sitting in turmoil. Why did you care? Do people normally look out for each other like that? He'd done it for his brother, often making him meals, but that was a close familial bond. Six is essentially a stranger to you, despite the month of small talk and close quarters. Worse than a stranger, he was a tool, a product… wasn’t he? Six feels something shift in his chest. A tiny pull, like a bond creating itself. He does his best to push the thought away.

You wake the next day much later than usual. After showering, you leave your room ready to spend the day similarly to last Saturday. As you exit the hallway into the living room, however, the housekeeper is walking out the front doorway.

"Hey! Good morning," you call, excited to see another person. "How are you?"

The youthful-looking man acts flustered, but answers in an accent you don’t recognize, "I'm fine, thanks. You?"

"I'm great. Do you mind me asking your name?"

"Ma'am, I was told not to speak to the residents here. I hope you understand."

"Oh! I'm sorry to have put you on the spot, then." You feel deflated.

"I restocked the pantry and the fridge, and the kitchen is clean," the kid reports.

"Thank you. Can I offer you anything?"

"No, ma'am, I'm on my way out for today."

You thank him again and let him go. You're hidden away so thoroughly that you're not even allowed to speak to other people. The depressing thought makes you seek out your only source of relief.

You find him in the garage, messing with a black, foreign-looking car. Though the sunlight from the open garage door makes you squint, you notice he’s wearing a dark t-shirt and tactical pants today. Six makes your heart spasm when he looks up to greet you.

Goddamn him, you swear internally like it’s his fault you’re attracted to him.

“Morning,” his voice is rough as though he hadn’t spoken in a while. Probably not since the last time he spoke to you.

“Morning. Is this yours?”

“It’s technically the house’s. ‘In case of emergency.’” He explains, disappearing from view as he leans into the trunk.

“Oh. Is it bulletproof?” You joke.

“Yeah,” his voice is muffled.

Your brow shoots up. Is he serious?

His head rises from behind the trunk lid. His eyes are full of amusement.

“You’re fucking with me,” you accuse.

Laughing, you walk around the car, knocking on the windows. You can’t tell.

He chuckles once, then slams the lid. It echoes in the concrete space. Six walks around the opposite side of the car, so tall that the vehicle barely comes up to his ribs. He leans his forearms on the roof, hands clasped, looking at you.

“The windows in the house aren’t normal glass, either,” he smirks at your innocence. He doesn’t tell you they’re not completely bulletproof. He figures they’re close enough.

For your own health, you’re ignoring how seductive he looks propped against the car.

Changing the subject, you tell him, “The housekeeper was here a moment ago.”

“He’s not just a housekeeper,” he corrects but doesn’t expound.

“Ah. Okay. Is anything around here exactly what it looks like?”

He turns his head to look out the garage door.

“You are,” he says after a moment. “I am.”

You tilt your head, "You know what - that's absolutely true."

"I have a question. Can we quit listening to 80s music?" He taunts. He must've heard you again last night.

"We don't. I listen to it, and you invade my privacy." You whip back.

"Once you're singing over sixty-five decibels, it stops being private and starts being a neighborhood nuisance."

His left cheek pulls upward, and he shifts onto one elbow. The movement causes a lock of hair to fall onto his forehead, and you're disarmed - unable to form the scathing rebuttal you want.

Smiling, you do your best, "Well, the neighbors can fuck off. I've got to do something to stay sane."

You know you're barely loud enough to be heard. He was just hellbent on giving you shit for it and you had to admit, it was kind of funny.

Your stomach growls. "Are you hungry? I’ll make breakfast.”

“It’s 11 a.m.”

“... and I’m going to make breakfast.” You walk inside, directly into the far side of the kitchen.

Six follows a few minutes later, shutting the garage door with a click. You’re in the middle of breaking eggs into a mixing bowl when he sits at the table - a rare move for him. He can’t see you well from this seat, and that’s intentional. He keeps his focus on the acre outside.

“Do you want any?” You call to him.

“No, thank you. I'll eat later.”

You wonder why he’s sitting in here with you. You make extra, just in case. When you’re finished cooking, you sit at the bar to eat, feeling on edge about sitting at the table with him.

Six takes the hint and gets up to leave the room. As he passes the stovetop, he sees you’ve made him some anyway. His heart tugs at him once more. He changes direction and picks up the plate.

Without looking at you, he murmurs, “Thank you.”

You smile warmly, “Anytime.”

He takes the plate to his room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That evening, as you curl up in a couch corner watching a mindless TV show, Six sits on the opposite end. You're cold but feel too awkward to grab the blanket from Six's end of the furniture. Feeling his mood, you wait for him to say something first. He never does. After several minutes, you break.

"Were you lonely in your room?" You rib him.

He looks over at you, and you meet his eyes with a quick grin. He shrugs.

"You get used to it," you tell him.

You look back at the TV and rub heat into your upper arm with your left hand. Maybe I should get up and turn the ceiling fan off.

He scoffs. You? Lonely? Compared to him? Then he thinks about it for a moment and realizes you haven't contacted anyone since you've been here.

"You don't have people waiting for you to come home?" He means family, friends, anyone.

"Nope. I got nobody." You say it with lightheartedness, though it makes you sad.

"I got nobody, too." He mimics your phrasing with a frown.

You turn to him again with a smile and offer, "Well, we can be nobodies to each other."

Six's mouth twitches and his eyebrow quirks up. You feel a rush of heat, embarrassment.

But then he makes a soft, pleased grunt and he hands you the blanket.

That next weekend, in the kitchen, you find Six shuffling a deck of cards. Curious, you make a face at him.

"This was how we passed the time in prison." He begins laying out a game of solitaire.

There's so much about his statement that makes you sad, but you ask the obvious question: "Prison?"

"I was in prison, yes."

"Violent offense, I assume?"

"Yes."

"Was it deserved?"

"The crime or the punishment?"

"What you did," you clarify.

"I thought so. Still think so."

Needing nothing else answered, you climb up on the barstool next to him and take the cards. You pick up the few he'd already laid out for solitaire. You weren’t letting him play cards alone.

"Have you ever played 'War'?" You shuffle the deck and begin to deal.

He hides his astonishment at your nonchalance. He'd never told anyone who didn't already know. But to you, it wasn’t a surprise. Your employers had been sure to tell you they’d hired one of the most elite assassins. You’d never expected that person to have lived a privileged, easy life. And you'd always been an excellent judge of character - Six's character was as solid as they come. Whatever his crime had been, it was justified.

"Yes, I've played War. Good way to get into a fistfight." He says, thinking of his long, terrible eight years.

"I could take you," you lie.

Your challenging look is met by his intense eyes, and he grabs his dealt cards.

"Loser has to make dinner."

"Deal," he agrees.

Later that evening, you stand at the stove top, cooking dinner for the both of you. After he beat you soundly in War, you'd insisted on a rematch, but he'd won a second time. Losing somewhat graciously, you told him you hoped he liked poorly made food. You weren't a good cook.

He'd done a perimeter check after that last game, but he was back in his favorite spot now, leaning forward on his elbows. As you flitted between the cabinets, the stove, and the pantry, he watched in near-awe. He didn't care how bad this food tasted. Watching you make it was enough. He didn't think he'd ever get used to how pleasant domesticity was.

As you walk past the stainless-steel microwave, you realize it's reflective enough to see behind you, and Six is currently hyper-focused on you. The fierce look in his eyes sends butterflies soaring in your stomach.

What the fuck is wrong with me? Six is just bored. The poor man hasn't seen another woman in over a month. Of course he’s going to look at the only available one.

You plate the food, setting one in front of him, for which he thanks you sincerely. You take your own into the living room to escape the air between you two. You flip the TV on, hoping for some background noise to distract you from Six. It works as he remains in the kitchen. After finishing his food, he washes his dish, then retrieves yours and does the same.

"Thank you, Six," you swallow thickly.

"Mhm," he grunts.

Why does the energy between us keep changing?

"I have some things to do outside," he reports.

Oddly relieved, you cheerfully tell him, "Okay, have fun."

He glances at you with a look you can’t identify, then exits through the patio door.

We're both going stir-crazy.

After changing into a tank top and pajama pants, you figure the decanter had been left lonely for too long. You down a couple of shots and put a movie on. This time you pick something you're only vaguely interested in, knowing the alcohol will do the work for you.

You hadn't seen Six since he walked out, but you know he's somewhere nearby. You'd love to offer him a shot, but it's hard to imagine him being willingly impaired.

After a few hours, another glass, and a consecutive movie, you stretch out on the comfy, tan couch. As you lay there, you feel the waves of drunkenness rocking you to sleep.

You're awoken by a masculine voice calling your name. Your eyes crack open to see Six standing over you.

"Six! You wanna shot?" You sleepily propose despite having stopped drinking yourself hours earlier.

His voice is decisive, "No, thank you. Are you planning on sleeping out here?"

"Maybe. 'm I allowed?"

"No," he asserts.

"I thought we were friends, now," you grumble, glaring.

"We're nobodies, remember? And I'm not sitting out here all night making sure you don’t puke," he clears his throat to disguise a laugh.

"Why not? It'd be like a sleepover."

You snuggle down into your blanket and try to find unconsciousness again, but you feel his hand on your shoulder. Your stomach lurches - not from the alcohol, you're barely tipsy now - and your eyes fly up to his face. He's never touched you.

He attributes the blush spreading across your face to the alcohol.

"Don't make me carry you," he tries to threaten, but the idea sparks an evil grin on your face, so he repeats himself, "Don't make me do that."

His jaw clenches at the knotted pit forming in his stomach. Deep down, he wants you to make him.

You sigh dramatically. "Why can't you leave me alone out here? Is it really any less safe than my room?"

"Yes, actually." He doesn't elaborate. "Am I going to get to sleep myself or am I gonna stand here arguing with you until dawn?"

"Okay. Fine. So demanding," you sit up and fold your fluffy blanket as his hand retreats.

He sighs. His biceps jiggle when he crosses his arms tightly.

“You really can’t stand me, can you, Six?” Your voice is sultrier than you intended. You look up at him through your eyelashes.

You watch with confusion as he blinks and swallows hard. He doesn't move or look away from your pouting face. His body heats up as he valiantly fights the temptation to look down your tank top.

Shaking off his lack of response, you stand, and step over to the entertainment center. You then bend to turn off the TV. When the screen blackens, in the reflection, you see Six’s head cock to the side, then snap away from you.

Was he just checking out my ass? No way. I'm drunker than I thought. God, I'm a lightweight now.

Since you’re inebriated, you decide to push your luck, so you turn and brush your fingertips across Six's forearm as you walk by him, murmuring, "Goodnight."

You’re almost to the hallway when you hear his husky voice.

"’Night, sweetheart."

Your theory is confirmed. You must be absolutely black-out drunk because there was no possibility Six called you "sweetheart." You curl up and pass out almost instantly on your bed, laughing at your love-sick, impaired brain's desire for him.

Was he drunk? Six's jaw clamps shut as soon as the word leaves his mouth. He'd never called anyone a pet name. He didn't even know he knew any. He had been headed to bed, but now he couldn't face laying there in the dark with his thoughts. Six walks out the front door, intent on performing unnecessary checks. His thoughts follow him anyway.

He's not sure what's happening to him. Six isn't going soft, he's still hyper-alert, still deadly. But he is softer, somehow. When he looks at you or thinks of you, he feels a protectiveness that has nothing to do with his paycheck. He feels like he could be happy if he could just keep looking at you.

And really what was the point of being freed from prison if he didn't take every opportunity to live before he died? He could allow himself to feel an attraction to you, as long as he didn't name it. As long as he didn't act on it. Six decided he wouldn't fight this, but he also wouldn't encourage any feelings from you. He wouldn’t drag you into this. He would let himself have a friend - no more - if only for a little while.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning, you keep your ritual. You have no hangover despite being sure you’d drank too heavily the night before. As you reach for your mug, your fingers brush empty space. It's missing from its place in the cabinet. Groggy, you take a better look around you, and you blink when you see the mug next to your coffee pot.

Weird - did I leave it out yesterday? Hm. Must have.

The telltale squeak of the barstool echoes in the quiet room.

Without turning, you greet him, "Morning, Six. I hope you slept well."

"Oh, you can hear me now?" is his fond response. His tone makes your heart skip.

"I'm sure you're just being louder for my benefit."

A chuckle leaves his lips. You aren't wrong.

Six watches you brew the coffee, imagining what it’d be like to have this view forever. He knows that’s a concerning thought, and he knows he’s torturing himself. It doesn’t stop him. It feels too good to let himself believe this could be his life, just for a moment. In some alternate universe, he could have a wife who loves him, a home, simple mornings, and peace. Six wants to imbibe as much of this as possible.

You finally turn after filling your mug. You peer out the window, but it's still relatively dark outside. Instead, your eyes dart to Six. He's focused on his laptop, so you freely admire him. Your gaze trails over him while you stir your drink.

A white t-shirt clings to him just enough to build pressure in your core. Since he's seated, you can't see his lower half, but you're sure it's some slacks that fit him perfectly. His hair is coiffed as usual, but his facial hair is scruffy. He looks good. If you were honest with yourself, you'd fuck him right there on the counter.

Six didn’t notice every single time you looked at him, but it was close. He didn't know why, but he marked each glance he caught. And right now, he could feel your stare as if it was a physical weight. The pleasure it gave him was electric, addictive. This base desire was easier to understand than the others you made him face, and he felt slightly more comfortable imagining it. This feeling could be partially alleviated.

Six would never act on his desires with you, though. You were under his authority, his protection. You had seen only one other man in over a month. He was new to the strength of these feelings, but he wasn't stupid. You were bored and lonely. He was more lonely, and he'd already let you in further than anyone else. That would be a problem. No, he would be content to let himself bask in your skin-deep attentions and your kindness, but he wouldn't torture either of you with physical complications.

During the silence, while the two of you thought about the same thing, the sun rose, casting you in a golden light. Six's back was to the window, but the sunshine catches his blonde hair, illuminating it. At the same time, both of you smile at each other - yours much larger than his, but no less genuine. He watches as your smile fades into your eyes, and you wet your lips. Nerves tighten in your stomach, and Six sees your throat constrict. Despite the distance between you, your eyes fall to his mouth. His do the same.

Registering the spark in the room, Six abruptly stands to avoid ignition.

"Have a good day," he offers quietly. He heads toward his room, toting his laptop.

Too shocked to reply, you stand there staring after him in the morning sun.

Holy shit, what just happened?

Over the next month, your morning routine is kept mostly the same, except your coffee mug is nearly always next to the machine when you wake. Six is civil, friendlier than he was at first, but you feel a wall returning. It's clear he's keeping some kind of boundary and you respect that. You could use a friend, and he does his best to be just that.

Throughout the month, there are times he finds you seated on the couch and sits with you. He doesn’t speak much, only answering your questions or agreeing with a comment you make about a movie or TV show. It’s the bare minimum that you both need, but it’s not fully satisfying for either of you.

It settles in your mind that you want to tell him you care about him. Platonically and in the most casual way possible, of course. You get the feeling he’s never had someone to look out for him, and that makes you sad.

On the last Friday of the month, you find the courage to say something. He’s seated on the opposite end of the couch, as far as he can be, in companionable silence as you let a comedy play.

“Six,” you begin, your heart already racing. But as you look at his profile, you fizzle out. “Are you hungry?”

He turns to you, face grave. “As long as it’s not the rubber chicken you made yesterday, yeah.”

“Well, maybe you should cook for a change.” Would you ever not be trading jabs at each other?

“I do cook,” he argues.

You roll your eyes. “Mac and cheese from a box for a week straight does not qualify as cooking.”

“You’re alive, aren’t you? That’s all I’m paid for. Special cuisine is extra.”

He’s joking, but the reminder of the nature of your relationship makes you cringe. You’ve let yourself grow far too attached to the handsome, quietly witty man, and knowing there was an asterisk on your friendship causes you more sorrow than you thought you’d feel.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One sunny morning, as you sit on the patio step, your ever-present coffee mug on the ground next to you, Six joins you. He doesn’t sit, instead, he stands behind you. Overlooking the valley, you ask him random questions that pop into your mind. You’re putting pieces of him together while trying not to pry any further than you know he'd like.

"Favorite candy? Besides gum," you add at the same time he answers.

"Gum. Oh, Skittles," he edits.

“Shoe size?” You turn to look up at him, shielding your eyes from the sun.

His lips twitch, “Eleven. You gonna buy me a birthday present?”

“When is your birthday, Six?”

He hesitates before responding, and when he does, you’re not sure it’s the truth.

“November 12th.”

You nod once and move on. "Ideal vacation?"

"A quiet beach."

“Favorite song?"

He's stumped on that one, "I don't think I have one."

"What about a favorite band? Or a singer?" You ask more generally.

"Hm, Bonnie Tyler." He declares, a gleam in his eye.

You laugh, "You're trying to rile me up, but I bet you probably are a fan of 'Holding Out for a Hero,' aren't you?"

He quirks an eyebrow at you so you explain, "She mentions Greek mythology," you gesture at his left arm, "and I know you love the Greeks."

You pause, then sing your own version of the lyrics to him, markedly offkey, "You're my streetwise Hercules -” Breaking off quickly in laughter at yourself, you bend forward to hug your knees.

You're no longer looking at him, so you miss out on the way his cheeks fight a brilliant, natural smile. You miss the way he loses and has to turn away from you to let the adoration color his face. And he misses the triumphant shutter of a camera in the distance.

The following day, Six is surprised to feel his phone vibrate. Few people had his current number.

Heard you got that cushy contract? I suppose you deserve it after saving my ass so many times.

Ah, it’s Denver, Six knows immediately. Not one for texting, Six leaves the message alone. The less he says about you the better - even to someone Six could almost call a friend.

He mulls over the phase ‘cushy contract’ and frowns. Six was now two and half months into this job, and he knew it would be coming to an end soon. Apparently, you were making good progress because your employer had notified Six they’d be terminating his services shortly - probably at the end of the month.

Two weeks until you were gone. Now that he understood exactly what he was missing, Six wasn’t sure how he would go back to his isolated murderous-errand-boy status. But what he felt didn’t matter - he would be going back to the existence he’d known for nearly twenty years.

You stroll into the common area one afternoon to see Six standing on the patio, contemplating the horizon. His gray suit is bright in the daylight, and you watch as the wind tosses a lock of hair. You take the opportunity to soak him in, to think about how much you care for him.

You open the door and walk out to stand beside him. He doesn’t move. You follow his eye line to see fluffy white clouds amidst a deep blue sky. Curious to know what he’s thinking, you clear your throat.

“You see something?”

“The same thing you do,” he gives you a tiny smirk. A breeze wafts the scent of his gum and you smile at the essence of him.

He slides his gaze along the tree line. You can hardly take your eyes off him, though. Six fascinates you. The CIA’s deadliest ex-asset was standing out here, looking like that, enjoying the countryside. He was quiet and closed-off, but he was also incredibly funny and warm.

God, what I wouldn't do for him. A surge of attraction consumes you for a moment, and it leaves you feeling unsteady.

Oh, he probably came out here to be alone. I’m interrupting.

“I’ll leave you be,” you say, your voice catching. You turn to go.

Six’s jaw clenches, and his lips part to tell you not to go, to tell you he prefers your presence to anything else on earth, but he doesn’t speak. Honestly, he doesn’t know how to say it - and he hears the door click shut behind him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two weeks later, Six is anticipating a text from your company telling him to stand down. He’s on edge all day, reigning in his thoughts. Trying to learn how to pack the pieces of humanity you’d given him into something he could carry with him. He can’t decide if it’s best to spend time around you or avoid you.

Six’s phone vibrates for the third time since he’d been here. Fully expecting another text from Denver or your employer, he’s stunned by what he does see.

Three photos have been sent to him by a blocked number. Each one depicts the two of you; each one shows Six exactly how fucked he is. He stares at the last one and the mixed emotions nearly buckle his knees.

Six had never seen happiness on his own face, but there it was. You’d sang to him, made a joke as only a friend could, you’d reminded him he was a man with choices and desires. It had struck him then hardest of all. Six wanted you. He wanted you in every way a man could want a woman, and in that moment he knew he’d never be the same.

But seeing that moment now through the lens of a threat? Six’s body kicks back into the high-alert state he’d been in for two decades. He springs off his bed, grabs his weapon, and sprints out to find you.

Because these photos are of Six’s reactions to you, he knows this isn’t about your work. Six knows exactly who this is and why. He also knows his adversary is probably running on fumes and therefore probably weak in resources. That means Six had some time.

He knocks on your lab door, and you call out, “Yeah?”

“Just checking,” he assures.

He moves off to scan his cameras, then the grounds. He finds nothing, so he retreats into the kitchen, half-facing the direction that the last photo had come from. Six works at his laptop until the sun sets. Through connections and rumors, he figures out someone (he needed no guesses as to whom) had placed a decent sum of money on his head.

His theory had been right, his foe was broke. It was obvious that the guy had poured all of his remaining funds into the bounty on Six's head. Six estimated he had roughly three weeks until a team could be expected. At least he wouldn’t be saying goodbye to you just yet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The end of the third month comes and goes, and another week drags by. No word arrives from your employer. Going home had become something you no longer wanted, so your research had intentionally slowed. You spent more time outside of your lab than in. As time wore on, your mornings with Six became longer. Instead of standing across the kitchen from him, you found yourself seated next to him at the bar more often than not.

But Six had been strange lately. His brow furrowed constantly, he was as uptight as he was when you met him. Six became strict about knowing where you were at all times. And for the past two weeks, he had walked you directly to your room at night, hand hovering over your lower back. It was a weird mixture of familiarity and distance between the two of you.

This morning, you’re both sitting at the bar in comfortable silence. You're reading while he does god-only-knows-what on his computer. You both jump when his phone buzzes and violently dances across the counter. He snatches it up and sighs.

“Next week, some extra people are going to be hanging around.”

“What?” You’re dismayed. The private bubble that had been suspending the two of you bursts.

He has to tell you. If not the whole truth, then part of it.

“There's been a- a threat. It’s not a definite thing, but it could be a problem,” he hedges.

The world drops out beneath you. Not only is the intoxicating time you’d had with Six coming to an end, but it’s doing so because you could be hurt. You take a deep breath, willing your nerves to go away. Your eyes close and you place your palms flat on the bar.

Six suddenly remembers that this isn’t your life, you’re not used to life-threatening events. He slowly, firmly covers your hand with his own. It’s rough and warm; your internal monologue gets derailed.

It’s terrifying to learn that someone will try to assault you. It’s something you never thought would truly happen. However, you know your work has led you into some high-risk areas, and you’re strong enough to hold the information, to accept it. And the appreciation that the person protecting you is Six? He was everything you could ask for.

“You’ll be okay,” he promises, his voice aimed at your stampeding heart. It’s the one thing he knows he can give you, and he feels wildly territorial. He was damned if he let anyone near you.

He reluctantly removes his hand, and you take a second breath. You’re facing straight ahead, but you can feel his eyes reading your face.

“I know. I trust you, Six,” turning to look up at him, you find the courage to tamp down your fear. You give him a sad smile.

Your eyes water, and Six begs them not to spill over. He won’t be able to stop himself from wiping away your tears - it’s his fault they’re there.

Your childlike faith in him jars him with a realization: he would do anything for you. If you asked, he would do it. He was wrapped around your finger, and he liked it. His heart swells. And, for the first time in his adult life since his grueling training, he's overcome.

···

You spend the next week anticipating the arrival of the anonymous men. Six had warned you that - like the housekeeper - these men were not supposed to speak to you.

At the same time, Six divested himself of you as best he could. Once this immediate situation was dealt with, and the contract terminated, he wouldn't see you again. Six's lifestyle would not allow him to have you, and he couldn't change it. As badly as he wanted you, Six would never ask you to leave your career, your home, your life to be with him.

He wrestled with it, though. Six often found himself thinking of scenarios in which he could show you how he felt. Maybe after he killed Lloyd he could come back for you. Maybe after the contract ended you would realize it wasn't boredom, it was real. Maybe your feelings were as strong as his. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

The return of Six's coldness confuses you. You miss him despite him being in the next room. You knew why (or you thought you did), you knew he was being paid to be here for this exact situation. It didn't stop you from feeling rejected.

The day comes and a van pulls up in the driveway. Four large, armed men pile out. They all look similar, terrifying. You retreat to your room before they come inside.

Six greets them, instructing them in what he's had planned. He walks the grounds with them but doesn't divulge his personal plans in regards to you. Six wanted everything compartmentalized and separated. No one could know who you were or why Six was there. These are Denver's men, but Six trusts no one completely.

Nearly a full day later, when you get too hungry to stay in your room any longer, you tiptoe to the kitchen. Your heart sinks at the empty room; you'd been subconsciously hoping Six would be at his spot.

As you reach the sink, you hear footsteps enter the room. You turn to greet Six, but you're visibly shocked by a stocky man standing there instead.

"Is everything okay?" You ask when the man doesn't say anything.

"Yeah, sorry. I didn't realize there was a woman here."

"Oh," you laugh, "Well, here I am."

Forgetting that this is not actually your home, and you didn't need to play hostess, you offer the man a drink.

"Water? Or some whiskey? But you're probably like Six with that, huh?"

"Yeah, naw, I can't drink on the job. Thanks though, honey. You been up here a while? You seem happy to see me." The man laughs good-naturedly.

You continue without answering his question, "Anything to eat? We've got plenty." You wince at the way you use 'we' as if you and Six had been playing house.

"I appr-" the man is interrupted by Six flinging open the garage door.

"Why are you in here?" His question is authoritative yet calm, and both you and the man start to answer at the same time.

"No, you." He nods at the man.

"Sorry, man. Should've known." The man quickly retreats outside. The patio door slams shut.

"He didn't even know a woman was here?" You put the query to Six. "Why? What'd he mean by 'should've known'?"

"His job is to watch that direction." Six indicates outward, toward the perimeter. "Not what goes on inside. I don't want anyone knowing anything unnecessary." He doesn't address your third question.

"I'm unnecessary now?" You already know it's a catty remark.

He throws you a withering look. "They're not supposed to be inside at all. If you see them, tell me. I'll take care of it."

"I mean, okay. But that guy was nice. At least he talked to me." You mutter the last bit.

Six has never felt jealousy, so when it flares in his stomach at your words, it burns. His eyes narrow and he strides over, stopping close enough to touch you.

"My job is to protect you. My job is not to entertain you. I'm not paid to be your friend." He sounds frustrated; like he's been trying to tell you something.

Six is overwhelmed and conflicted. He wasn't paid to be your friend - that came naturally. And he wasn't even being paid at all anymore. The deposits have stopped and Six is still here. He can't find a way to tell you that fact, though.

Abashed, you duck your head so he doesn't see the tears that spring up. Gravity works against you, so you look up to the ceiling, fighting the tears back. You feel lonely despite the best friend you'd had in a long while standing in front of you.

Six's mouth goes slack. He's horrified. He just made you cry. Six had made new-widows cry, sure. But never had his words caused the tears of a woman he cared about. He feels unbalanced. Six has no idea how to process anything going on inside him.

You sigh.

I'm the one who's pushed this friendship. He's always been honest about what this was. I can't very well be mad at him when he does his job.

"Okay, Six. I'll stay out of your way." Your voice is hoarse.

You bolt to your room as he stands staring into space, fists clenched.

A few days later, you leave your lab to find an apple and a glass of water waiting for you on the bar. A faint smile pulls at your lips. You realize you've not eaten today. On the countertop is your favorite mug. Peering inside, you see whiskey. Your small laugh breaks the heavy silence in the house.

After eating, you take the mug and sink down onto the couch. The gaming console makes an electronic jingle as you turn it on for the first time. You'd been working hard, again, but your morale was poor. You were miserable without Six's easy humor.

You pick up a game controller and start to scroll through the downloaded games when you hear Six's footsteps enter the house from the garage. Your heart twinges at the discovery that you have his footsteps memorized. He trudges through the kitchen and stops in the entryway to the living room.

You stop yourself from fully appreciating him in his gray suit, but it's hard as you can see your favorite black t-shirt underneath. He sees the mug in your hand and his face becomes hopeful.

"I haven't played a video game since 1995." He confesses, now staring at the TV.

"You want to play?" Your voice cracks embarrassingly.

He almost smiles at you, "Loser makes dinner?"

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