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zerobaseonefics · 1 year

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first kiss with ricky, zhang hao, seunghwan and park hanbin (requested)

boys planet trainees x gn!reader

genre : fluff

note : mention of food in zhang hao's ⚠️ xiaoting of kep1er in seunghwan's one cuz yes she IS a whole warning

sorry if i took too much time anon <3 didn't include jay because i didn't have any idea for him tbh

• ricky

ricky always acted like he was some kind of player, stealing hearts everywhere he was going. even though most people were attracted to him, he was far from the playboy persona he was promoting.

when you started dating, you expected him to be straightforward and initiate most the skinship...

however, it was not the case. in fact, ricky was a bit shy about it. to be fair, he was only 18, and didn't have many partner before dating you. because of that, he was scared of doing things the wrong way. that's the reason why he would rather let you initiate things like that.

your relationship was still fresh, you were only two weeks in, so that could explain why neither of you dared to kiss the other. but that day, ricky felt different than the others. he couldn't explain it. maybe it was the way the sun hit your pretty face the right way, or the outfit you were wearing that suited you too good. maybe it was the fact you prepared that whole picnic and you thought of buying strawberries because you know it was his favorite.

ricky wasn't used to be spoiled by the people he loves. most of the time, it was the other way around. but now that you did something for him, he felt a different type of warmness in his chest.

shyly, he grabbed your hand in his to have your attention. you turned your face his way, and he started leaning in almost unconsciously before realizing you might no be ready. he stopped his movement just before your lips could touch, feeling his cheeks blushing.

"y/n... can i kiss you?"

your only answer was to break the distance between you two to give him what you both wanted.

"i thought you'd never ask" you said when you pulled apart, making him giggle before he leaned in again.

• seunghwan

seunghwan saw this situation as his chance, if God decided to turn in his favor, this could be the moment he finally confessed to you. he started to pray in his head.

"please let me be with y/n, please let me be with y/n, please let me be with-"

"y/n! you're going in with seunghwan."

seunghwan felt like a mastermind. what could possibly go wrong?

you and him were sharing the same friend group for years, and since the beginning of your friendship, it actually.... never felt like a friendship. call him cliche or whatever, for him, it was love at first sight. he knew he'll love you the first time you talked to him. he got to know you better and realized you were everything he was looking for, in a friend as much as in a lover.

now call him cocky, he knew for sure that the feeling was mutual. the way you'd giggle when he would say you look good, the smile and the red cheeks you tried to hide whenever he would jokingly introduce himself to strangers as your boyfriend, the handshakes where you would let your hand in his longer than it should... seunghwan was sure you loved him back.

today was the birthday party of your mutual friend, junhyeon. (yes that's my junhyeon jackson wang of 5th gen agenda)

he wasn't the type to make only small events, no, he made sure he invited everyone in your grade.

it was getting late, and a smaller group of people were sat in a corner of the living room, having fun with the childish game of spin the bottle. you were there, next to your friend xiaoting, and seunghwan was in front of you. for the moment, none of you have been chosen for the game, only observing and joking with the people there.

"hey! how about the next people chosen by the bottle play 7 minutes in heaven?" proposed xiaoting.

"what's that?" asked gyuvin.

"well, we, i mean the bottle chooses two people that will spend 7 minutes together in a dark enclosed place."

"sounds more like 7 minutes in hell, why would you be alone with someone alone in a small and dark place and..... oh, okay, i get it" said woongi.

if seunghwan thought the game was a bit stupid at first, he quickly changed his mind. if he never confessed to you properly, despite giving you plenty of signals, it's not because he didn't have the guts to do so... he just never found the moment to. you were rarely alone, and each time you were alone with him, it was just not the right moment for him to open his heart. but this! if seunghwan had 7 minutes of his time alone with you in a small place, what will he do other than confessing? that was the perfect plan! (if someone ever confess to me in this situation i think i'll hit them bcz wtf) (but listen at this point seunghwan is desperate)

the bottle first chooses him. he sent you a look, that you didn't catch, lost in your thoughts hoping he will not end up with someone else. however, xiaoting did catch that look and knew it was her time to be a hero.

a shocked look on her face, she pointed her finger at something in the crowd.

"hey! what the hell is junhyeon doing? look at this!"

she didn't expect that to work, but it did, the people with you all turned their eyes towards that non-existent scene and she quickly stopped the bottle to make it point at you.

"oh! seems like we got our lucky pair." declared xiaoting

"y/n! you're going in with seunghwan. now, that's funny..." added woongi.

seunghwan got up first, taking your hand to help you get up as well. xiaoting took the mission of leading you guys to a closet big enough for you two to fit in. before you got in, xiaoting gave you a death glare. "y/n if you mess up all my hard work..."

finally, the door closed, leaving you two in the dark, your bodies so close that they were almost touching.

"hm. isn't it funny that we ended up there?", said seunghwan as a conversation starter.

"i think xiaoting is responsible for this but i don't blame her. i'm glad it's you".

seunghwan softly laughed, making you smile as well. the only source of light was the one that could get in from the corner of the door, but it was enough for seunghwan to see your face a bit.

"i wanted it to be you as well." said seunghwan.

"yeah, you better not want someone else for this.", you scoffed.

seunghwan took this as his sign that it was the right time to have the conversation. he smirked, and you could hear his smile in his voice.

"yeah? why? you wouldn't like it if i wanted to go there with someone else?"

"don't ask."

"why?"

"because you already know why i wouldn't like it."

"no, i don't know. tell me, y/n."

"well, it's just that way. would you be happy if someone else was here with me?"

he answered your question, telling you you were right. he would not be happy about it. hesitantly, he sneaked his arms around your waist to pull you closer. it was not the first time he did that, but now, the atmosphere was more serious so he didn't want to rush you. you let your head rest on his chest, and it encouraged him to continue.

"do you want me to tell you why i wanted it to be you?" he said in a whisper.

"hm, tell me" you responded, turning your head to look at his face, your chin resting on his chest this time. he look at you in the eyes, losing the meaning of words for a second, before regaining his composure.

"because you're not mine yet, and if you went with someone else, i was afraid you might slip through my fingers."

"if it wasn't you, i wouldn't have play the game." you assured him.

"why?"

"somehow, i'm unofficially already yours."

seunghwan tried to hold back his smile from getting wider, simply kissing the top of your head as you smiled back.

"i love you. i'm sorry it took so much time for me to finally tell you, but i really do love you."

your hands went to his face, caressing gently his cheeks with your thumb. your eyes met his, locked together for a few seconds, before your lips got attracted like it was natural to his own. his heart started racing as he couldn't focus on anything else than you, kissing you back with eagerness. it was his first kiss with you, and despite all the scenarios he made in bed before sleeping, he never thought it would happen like that. but he was so happy about it, it was better than all that he ever imagined.

• zhang hao

zhang hao is simply a very direct man. where ricky was fighting his inner demons to know if he could kiss you, i feel like zhang hao would naturally feel if you were comfortable enough to do it yet.

the thing was, zhang hao wasn't against pda. he could hold your hands, he could hug you, but he was just not the type to kiss in public.

it was only a few week since you started dating, and you never kissed yet because you just haven't seen each other a lot indoors. most of your dates were outside, so since your boyfriend was uncomfortable with it, it never happened.

that day, zhang hao was practicing at the company with the other trainees. you two texted this morning, and he told you he was going to be there until late at night. proud of how hardworking he was, you decided you'd grab lunch for zhang hao and his teammates.

you knocked on the practice room door, and when you heard zhang hao telling you you could come in, you opened the door. you were met by faces you didn't know, and your boyfriend in shock.

"y/n??"

"the one and only!"

he jogged toward you to greet you with a hug, asking you what you were doing here.

"i know you guys are here for the whole day so i thought it'd be a good idea to bring you food."

the younger boys, yujin and ollie gasped at the mention of food while the other guys thanked you properly.

"hao! i think you should kiss them as a thank you" said ollie in a teasing tone as you gave the boys the bags you brought. yunseo hit the younger one in the arm, gesturing him to shut up. "what?? he's their boyfriend after all, why wouldn't he kiss them?"

zhang hao started to feel a bit embarassed meanwhile you laughed at ollie's teasing remarks.

"eat well! i'm gonna have to go."

zhang hao followed you to the door, opening it for you. you thought he would simply go back to his members to eat, but he followed you in the corridor, out of the practice room. he took your hand to have your attention.

"hum? is there a problem?" you asked.

without a word, zhang hao looked around to make sure it was only the both of you. when the verification was done, he pulled you closer to him by the hand he was still holding. before you could react, he leaned in to connect your lips together. it wasn't long, but it was enough for a warmth to blossom in your chest and your cheeks to turn red.

"can i come over after practice? i'll give you a proper 'thank you' kiss."

maybe ollie's teasing wasn't that bad.

• phanbin

what a good day for park hanbin. for the first time in a while, his best friend, you, where at his place for a sleepover. the occasion used to be a regular event before you two got into college, meaning you had less time to spend together.

but it was not only about the time. in fact, you were deliberately trying to spend less time with him. for a few years now, you started to see your best friend in a different light. you were sick of the one-sided feelings you had for him, and realized college might be the solution for you to avoid him a bir in order to let your feelings die down.

little did you know, your feelings were mutual, but you were trying to shut them down by dating other people, convinced he didn't like you back. laying shoulders to shoulders on his bed, you ranted to him.

"so that date didn't went good", concluded hanbin.

"not at all."

"see, it always go sour when they try to kiss you. do you have a problem with it particularly?"

so turned so you could face him. "hanbin."

he turned as well, facing you too. "y/n".

"can i tell you a secret?"

"of course."

"well, i didn't have my first kiss yet."

"what ??"

hanbin jumped up, now sitting on the bed. you sat as well, embarassed.

"you're kidding me right??"

"i'm not! i never kissed someone, the action just freaks me out!"

"but you had a boyfriend for like... two weeks!"

"i know but i told you i didn't like him that much..."

"what blocks you exactly?"

you looked away, trying to find an answer quickly. the truth was you couldn't kiss anyone because your feelings were still for hanbin. how could you give away your first kiss to someone you don't even like?

"i don't want to embarass myself, you know. i don't know how to kiss someone, so it will probably be awful. plus, i can't give my first kiss to anyone, it has to be a special someone."

"special? what do you mean by special?"

"someone i'm close to, you know? like... like you."

hanbin felt his cheeks getting warmer, so he turned his face to make sure you wouldn't see him blushing.

"well... you know... maybe i could teach you, then."

"teach me?" you repeated, not sure you understood.

"okay that sounds stupid. but if you're afraid of being a bad kisser, i can teach you how to be a good one. you'll have your first kiss with me, someone special to you, and so... it'll be easier for you to kiss other people afterwards."

he didn't like the end of his idea and neither did you. however, it was still a good idea, you thought. you would learn how to kiss, you would have your first one with someone special, and you would kiss hanbin above all.

"...that do sounds stupid but i think it's a good idea."

"for real?"

"yeah... i'd rather give you my first kiss."

hanbin bit the inside of his cheek in order not to smile. you both stayed sat on the bed as he came closer to you. you two shook hands to conclude your contract.

"okay. i'm gonna do it slowly so you can pick up the things you have to do. it's okay i touch you a bit, right?"

you nodded to give him your consent. his right hand went to your jaw, as he slowly leaned towards your face. you felt a feeling of giddiness and nervosity as you saw his look going from your eyes to your lips. hanbin tilted your chin a bit to adjust himself properly, and he finally closed his eyes and went for the kiss. it was delicate, soft, as he tried his best not to rush you. it didn't last long before he pulled away, his face still close to yours. you could see the colors on his cheeks, similar to the one on yours, as both of your hearts were racing.

"how do you feel? did you get it?"

"maybe you could do it again..." you said in a quiet voice.

let's say y'all didn't stay friends after the second one.

#boys planet #boys planet fics #boys planet imagines #boys planet reactions #b0ysplanetfics #kpop #boys planet trainees #boys planet drabbles #shen ricky #lee seunghwan #zhang hao #park hanbin x reader #park hanbin #lee seunghwan x reader #zhang hao drabbles #ricky x reader

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kssyivo · 2 months

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sides || boynextdoor guitarist!taesan x president!reader

disclaimer: this is a gender neutral fic!! they/them pronouns are used, and the author is rusty lmao

now playing: west coast love by emotional oranges

for others it was an ordinary week of school, but for yn's party, it was preparation week. the day of the campaign was approaching and everyone in yn's party was brainstorming ideas on how to promote themselves.

"we finished with the posters already, right?" the secretary of their party, winter, asked "yeah, the design for the flyer and our presentation are ready, too." wonbin, their vice president, added "any other ways we could promote ourselves?" yn asked for suggestions "i have one" yoon announced

"how about, during the campaigning at theatre room, the school band's gonna play songs for audience impact, we could ask them!" yoon excitedly suggested

yn grimaced at yoon's idea "what, pres? you don't want to, do you? is it cause of taesan?" yoon teased to which yn rolled their eyes "it's a good idea but, are we sure they'd accept? i mean, there's nothing in for them." yn reasoned

winter giggled "i'm pretty sure taesan would convice his friends to do so if you asked, yn, we all saw how he looks at you." yn hung his head low in embarassment as his friends laughed. "in all seriousness, yn. i think that you should really ask, you're the president and taesan's pretty nice." wonbin said.

"what made you hate taesan that much anyway?" yoon asked. "hate is a strong word!" yn interjected "fine! what made you not like him? or whatever"

yn knew they had no way out of yoon's question, their friends are also waiting for the answer. yn sighed, "i used to date taesan. i can't say that it ended well, he took it maturely and i– i wasn't in my best mental state at that time." silence was present as yn's friends processed the information.

"say something" yn whispered

"so, when you look at him– or interact with him in general, your mental state from when you broke up surfaces?" wonbin asked nonchalantly "i hate you." yn joked.

"but yes, i guess." winter and yoon yelled in giddiness "you aren't over him are you?" winter asked while laughing with yoon "hey!" yn embarassedly replied, face turning beet red while stifling their laughter.

wonbin also couldn't hold in his laughter as the girls continued to laugh, clap, and yell.

"you HAVE to be the one to ask." yoon insisted as yn could only sigh in defeat "fine, fine."

��🎸🎸

yn made their way over to the music room where the school band practices, as he neared the door, someone exited and almost bumped into them. "oh i'm sorry!" the girl exclaimed

"hey violet!" yn greeted "what were you doing in there?" violet, the president from an opposing party smiled "campaign stuff, you get it." yn chuckled "okay, good luck!" yn said as they entered the music room.

the light chatter among the band members settled as they recognized the person who entered. "look who's here." taesan smiled as he approached yn who braced themselves.

"play nice, taesan. i'm here to ask for a favor." yn avoids the taller's eyes, meanwhile taesan doesn't shy away from eye contact.

"and that is...?" yn sighed and mustered up their courage to look at taesan in the eye. "i want the band to play during our campaign." taesan smiled at the shorter.

"is that how you ask for favors?" taesan teased to which he received an eye roll from the shorter.

"c– can you please play during our campaign? it would really help my party."

taesan smiled "i'd love to, boss." yn tried to hide their excitement but their eyes betrayed them. taesan chuckled at the younger as yn hurriedly left the room "i owe you one!" yn smiled at him.

jaehyun immediately cleared his throat as soon as yn left and caught taesan's attention "what's between you two?" jaehyun asked, suspicious of their actions

"yeah, why does yn act so flustered when you approach them? that's the only time i see them get so... folded"

woonhak added as sungho could only chuckle, being the only one to know about their past.

"let's just say... we have history." taesan looked down as he walked back to the boys "what about violet? didn't she also ask for us to play during her campaign?" riwoo asked "drop that, i think taesan would rather play for yn, and i don't mind playing for yn." jaehyun answered for taesan, which were followed by 'me too's.

🎸🎸🎸

it is now time for their campaign, violet is finishing up her time on the stage and it is time for yn's party to come up on stage.

cheers and claps were heard throughout the auditorium as yn, wonbin, winter, and yoon make their way up to the stage.

"good morning everyone! we are the younique party!"

everything went by like a breeze, everyone had fun during the campaign and the audience seemed to accept them well. "now, please help me welcome our very own, boynextdoor!" yn announced as their party left the stage as taesan and the rest of the band made their way backstage

"i dedicate the next few songs for yn and their party." taesan said before the band started their small session.

yn only watched from backstage as taesan enjoyed himself onstage. their eyes met a couple of times which didn't fail to make yn flustered.

as boynextdoor finished their session after 3 songs, yn and their party made their way back to the stage and thanked everyone for the successful campaign.

the party alongside boynextdoor went backstage as it was the next party's turn to campaign.

as they arrived backstage, yn immediately pulled taesan somewhere private. "hey, thank you for– uh– preparing 3 songs for our campaign, it might not mean much to you but it does for me." yn said in gratitude, avoiding eye contact once more.

"it means a lot to me performing for you, yn." taesan answered genuinely.

yn pushed him lightly, feelings giddy, unable to hide their smile. yn grabbed his collar and pulled him in for a deep kiss. taesan quickly recovered from his shock and held yn's waist, deepening their kiss.

tongue was involved as they kept kissing each other, breaking away to catch their breaths "god, i missed you." taesan breathed out, kissing yn's neck, "i miss you so much." he whispered onto the shorter's neck.

"i missed you too."

they were interrupted by a knock as yn quickly got off taesan "pres, shouldn't we go back to our classroom?"

wonbin voiced out.

"yes– yes you guys can go first, i'll follow!" yn said in a rush, fixing their shirt. "tonight, 8pm, pick me up." yn said in a jokingly stern voice to taesan. the taller approached yn and landed a peck on his lips.

"yes, boss."

🎸🎸🎸

#boynextdoor #bnd x reader #bnd #bnd imagines #bnd x male reader #kpop x you #kpop x reader #kpop x male!reader #kpop x male reader #kpop x gender neutral reader #kpop imagines #taesan #taesan x reader #taesan x male reader #taesan x gender neutral reader #kssyfics

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al-astakbar · 10 months

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☆ The Gift -- Thrawn x reader ☆

> title ☆ The Gift ☆ part 2/?

> summary ☆ As congratulations for his recent promotion to Grand Admiral, Emperor Palpatine gives Thrawn a gift -- a young woman who has been trained as a pleasure companion.

> pairing ☆ Thrawn x reader ☆ word count [3.8k] ☆ warnings for this part ☆ brief sexual language ☆ series warnings ☆ dubious consent; sexual slavery; concubine/ sex slave AU; will add more warnings as more parts are posted

>series navigation ☆ part 1 ☆ part 2 ☆ part 3 ☆ part 4 ☆ part 5 ☆ part 6 ☆ part 7

> posted on ao3

author note!! To be very clear, in this story reader is a concubine against her will and is gifted to Thrawn, but there is at no point any noncon between Thrawn and reader. Reader is never noncon with anyone, either referenced or explicitly, and there is never any explicit noncon. However, this is a darker take on Thrawn and he doesn't really have many hangups about putting his gift to use...

Neither Mirri nor Solis know where his shuttle is, and one did not stop a Grand Admiral as he was walking away to ask for clarification about something so trivial, despite you elbowing them to do just that.

They walk you to the turbolift, and just before you get on, an aide comes up and gives directions. Landing platform E-52. The lambda class shuttle. The aide leers at you openly, and wonders to his superior officer, “what do I have to do to get one of those?”

The Commander snorts. “A Prasad?” the formal term for the type of trained, indoctrinated pleasure companion popular among the Empire’s elite; you are surprised he knows it, though any good Imperial citizen would recognize what you are just from the distinctive robes. “Gain more favor than you’ll ever hope for in a lifetime. Or make friends with someone who’s got one. I hear they share the best ones around. Get invited to the right party and all you’ve got to do is wait in line for a turn.”

You stiffen and stumble, nearly managing to turn towards the two men, with no real plan of what you might say. Mirri catches you.

“Do you think he’ll be-- he’ll be nice?” You ask in a small voice once the lift doors have closed. Or at least gentle. Mirri and Solis do not answer. The walk to the platform is quick, just a short ways outside through more elegant, richly appointed halls. These ones have hanging gardens, trailing vines and foliage beneath a huge glass ceiling and bursts of flowers, the entire floor a mosaic of millions of black and white stones. You try to dawdle, slowing your pace to spend just a little more time. Given to a Grand Admiral, you will likely spend at least the next six months in space, on a warship, and you don’t know when you might be planetside again, let alone on one with greenery.

But Mirri and Solis lead you through it too quickly, and after a short walk, you are there on LP E-52.

Private platforms such as this one have small, luxurious waiting rooms, so that the senator or whoever is being flown that day does not have to wait out in the elements. Mirri and Solis choose not to use it, and you know they would have happily made you stand there in the wind, until you are bone-chilled and shivering despite the bright Coruscant sun.

Luckily-- one small mercy on this day-- the Grand Admiral arrives within minutes, walking ahead of a small contingent.

Nausea has been a constant, rising bloat in your stomach since walking into the throne room but now it threatens to overwhelm you. A wild, horrible thought comes to you, that maybe if you’re quick enough you could run for the edge of the platform, and just be… done. But you know it wouldn’t work. There are safety measures. Systems of repulsor barriers and simple old fashioned nets to catch people in case of falls or accidents.

“Be sure to mind him,” Mirri whispers to you harshly.

“The last nine to be presented before you all went to lower ranking officers or minor dignitaries—“ Solis says.

“And all were better behaved than you.” Mirri’s tone is venomous.

Then they both step back, bowing deeply to him, and you stand alone. Strong winds buffet the platform, whipping your robe against you like a sail.

Instead of his aide approaching you, the Grand Admiral himself advances. Up close, he is even more imposing of a figure, his bearing imperious and assured, his skin unmistakably blue and his hair sleek blue-black, like indigo. In this light, he looks magnificent, a paragon of an Imperial officer. His uniform is blindingly white, gold shoulder bars, silver collar insignia, and code cylinders glinting brightly, the broad expanse of his chest interrupted by the large rank plaque. The jodhpurs and black jackboots only make his legs look longer-- most Imperial officers you have seen do not carry off the look so well.

You have heard of Gifts kneeling when presented, and always thought it was stupid, but the urge to sink down in front of him pulls at you now. Somehow it would feel so natural. Just the idea of it feels traitorous to everything you believe.

“Come,” he says, bringing one white leather-gloved hand from behind his back to gesture for you to walk beside him. He is stern, but not hurried. He is a Grand Admiral, meaning everyone else bends to his schedule and never the other way around. A cadre of four black armored death troopers fall in step behind— they must be his personal guard. You gawk at them a moment too long, turning your head to look over your shoulder, then the Grand Admiral’s hand is at the small of your back.

“Watch your step,” he murmurs, a second before you trip— the hem of your robe, the uneven surface of the boarding ramp, or both— and he catches you, sets you right.

“I’m fine, I don’t need help,” you say sharply, even as your cheeks burn with embarrassment.

He lets you shrug off his assistance with another quiet word. His accent is like nothing you’ve heard before-- not that you are particularly well traveled-- but it certainly isn’t from any Core world.

“Where are we going?” you ask, feeling strange and a bit guilty for wanting to hear him talk more.

Once you, the Grand Admiral, the complement of troopers and a handful of aides are inside the small loading bay, the ramp closes with a prolonged hydraulic hiss.

“This way,” he says. You follow him through a narrow passageway to the main cabin. Unlike the rest of the shuttle, which is drab, Imperial-issue grey, this cabin is furnished with plush leather seats, what looks like a small bar, and a shiny stone surface desk in one corner, all in sleek black and white.

The Grand Admiral motions courteously for you to sit, while his aide, a pale, light haired young man in an olive-drab lieutenant’s uniform takes a post standing by the hatch you just came through.

“I meant-- are we leaving the planet? What system are we going to?”

At that moment, the shuttle’s engines kick on, and light streams into the cabin as the wings unfold while the craft slowly lifts off and rotates. Strange. From the outside it looks like the only transparisteel on the shuttle is around the cockpit.

“Yes,” the Grand Admiral says. “To my ship, the Imperial Star Destroyer Chimaera. Lieutenant Tyvo, send word ahead for the stormtroopers to begin preparing their cold weather uniforms and kit. And during the next week, have the section chiefs ensure forward chasing tractor beam targeteers run through another training cycle.”

“Yes, sir,” the lieutenant says, and immediately begins typing on his datapad.

The Grand Admiral continues speaking to the lieutenant, giving instructions about maneuvers and training schedules and meetings and briefings, and you realize he will not be sharing any more information with you. So you settle deeper into your seat-- much more comfortable than any in the austere cloister where you had spent the past year-- and gaze out the starboard viewport. The city flashes by, spire after spire, growing quickly smaller as the shuttle rises. No waiting in traffic, but of course a Grand Admiral must have his own priority lane.

“Anything else, sir?”

“No, that is all. Thank you, Lieutenant.”

You look over to find the Grand Admiral standing, as he seems to like to do, with his hands clasped behind his back. He regards you for a moment, cold and appraising, before sitting opposite, and his authoritative bearing makes you sit up straighter. Somehow his starched white uniform doesn’t wrinkle. “What is your name?”

The question gives you pause. It is customary to only speak a companion’s given name in private. “They didn’t tell you?”

“I would like to hear it from you.”

He does not seem cruel or pushy, and that unbalances you. With less reluctance than you feel you ought to have, you quietly give him your name so the Lieutenant can’t hear, and then ask his.

“Mitth’raw’nuruodo,” he says. “But you may find it easier to call me Thrawn.”

You repeat his name with a small nod. “Thrawn.”

His glowing red eyes do not have pupils, and though you can’t tell quite where he might be looking, you feel the weight of his attention pinning you down nonetheless.

You feel your face grow hot. Is he going to have you here, now? It would be well within his rights. He is entitled to anything— everything. The thought makes you squirm with anger and… something else hot and deep in your chest you can’t give a name to.

Quickly, you pull your gaze down to your lap. Demure, as you had been taught. “Sorry,” you mumble.

“For what?”

“Staring. You probably get stared at a lot.” Hold your tongue. Mirri and Solis would have seen that you were punished for this impertinence. There had been one girl who had been with you, retraining after her first master had been terribly displeased with her. At least, that is as much as you could glean. He had removed her tongue before sending her back, and the threat of having all her teeth pulled out too kept her obedient.

Thrawn raises a blue-black eyebrow. “Indeed.”

For a time, he says nothing more, but studies you closely. His eyes seem to roam over your form, and you feel somehow naked, exposed for his discernment. You watch him back, thankful for your veil once more, studying his face. His features are even, well proportioned, though severe, and his dark hair slicked back from a widow’s peak makes him distinguished. Perhaps he is considered handsome among his people. The third time he catches your gaze, you get the distinct sense that he knows exactly where you are looking.

There is a definite hunger in the way he watches you, intent and completely still. As if waiting for you to act first. The tiniest movement. You exhale slightly, and it makes the fabric covering your face flutter.

Caught again.

“Remove your veil.”

You jerk at the order, and in a split second of gut instinct, almost obey, such is the authority in his voice and bearing. Thrawn’s aide gives a start too, fumbling the data pad he’s holding.

“Give us the room, Lieutenant,” Thrawn says without looking away from you, and his aide hurries out.

Thrawn rises, unfolding his long limbs gracefully, and crosses to you in two steps. “My apologies.” He stands at his full height, broad shoulders square and hands behind his back. It gives him an infuriating air of calm superiority. And still, you can’t shake a foreboding sense that he is very, very dangerous, and not to be crossed. “It is customary for those of your position to remain covered at all times, except during… intimate situations. Is it not?”

“Y-yes. Yes sir,” you say, relieved that he understands.

A beat passes, and then he prompts: “we are alone now.”

You feel your face heat at the implication. “I don’t want to.”

His mouth presses into a thin line. “That is of no concern to me.”

“I don’t want to kiss you.”

His red eyes gleam. “It was not a request.”

You stand up, meaning to move away, but it only puts you closer to him, and his height dwarfs yours. “I don’t want to lay with you!”

“Is that what you imagine necessitates showing your face?” His voice drops to nearly a whisper, full of dark promise. “When I fuck you, it need not be so personal.”

At that, your heart thuds in your chest.

Before you can think it through, you try to slap him. He catches your wrists, dispassionate and unflinching as you struggle against him. “Enough. There will be no need for…theatrics. I was given to understand that those of your Order are all volunteers. Is that not true in your case?”

You can’t help your wide-eyed expression. It is an open secret that many young men and women were pressed into this sort of service, and your Order is no exception-- but nobody spoke that secret aloud. And it certainly wasn’t brazenly stated by an Imperial Grand Admiral to his new companion. You nod in confirmation, hoping that this isn’t some sort of trap or game to get you to admit something he could punish you for.

“I see,” he says, considering for a moment. “Then, you have a choice to make. An unwilling partner is of little use to me.”

You wrench against his grip, but it’s futile. “Oh so I guess that makes it all right then. You don’t want to— to fuck me but you’re going to anyway,” you say hotly. He doesn’t rise to the accusation, merely waits for a beat, allowing you to continue. When you say nothing more, he speaks.

“As I said, I would prefer your cooperation, but it is not required. However, there are… complexities… to our situation. Our Emperor—“

“Your Emperor.”

“--Will expect me to fully enjoy the gift he has given me. This is not in question. He will know, if I do not take you to bed. I have no intention of slighting him by refusing his generosity.”

“But how would he know! Couldn’t you just tell him that you have?”

“No,” he says, his voice cold and soft.

You stare at him for a moment, breath catching suddenly at how close you are, and then you start struggling again. “Let go of me!”

His hands tighten around your wrists like shackles, squeezing so hard it feels like your bones grind together.

“Please!” A note of panic, breath tight in your chest. It had been your last, foolish hope that whoever you were given to would be understanding, would find the whole practice barbaric. “Just let me go, pretend I ran away, just leave me somewhere!”

Thrawn, evidently, is not that person.

“Think,” he presses, red eyes flashing with impatience, though he reins back in to calm just as quickly. “Under what circumstances might you leave my service?”

It takes a moment for you to realize that this is not a rhetorical question. Most of the time Mirri and Solis had considered answers to such questions as just another form of backtalk, worthy of punishment.

“When I ask you a question, I expect an answer,” he says, rather sharply.

Another trap? You try to gather your thoughts, calm your breathing, but your pulse is wild with high emotion, and your voice shakes. “I could… run away.”

“Yes. What else?”

You draw in a deep breath, and smell the starch and wool of his uniform. “You could let me go.”

He nods but stays silent, expectant. A third option? You frown, then venture: “someone else takes me. Without your permission. Steals me away.”

“Indeed.”

Your mind flashes to the ones who were returned broken and maimed. “I could misbehave,” you say, with a touch of defiance.

“Yes, you could,” he agrees. “The circumstances of you leaving my ship would be altogether unpleasant, but more so for you than for me. You are a gift that cannot be refused, so your removal would be necessitated by your own behavior. Now, what do you imagine the consequences would be like?”

You swallow thickly and shake your head, unable to find the words.

“At best, placed with somebody else with less concern for your… consent. At worst…” his voice trails off, letting you reach the obvious conclusion silently.

He is right, which is all the more infuriating to admit because of the matter-of-fact way he had stated it. Gifts who came back were, if deemed ‘salvageable’, subjected to months of remedial conditioning and then reassigned, almost always to someone less desirable than the previous recipient. Lower ranking, or particularly hideous or cruel. It was whispered that there was one Outer Rim Governor whose appetite for a fresh face had been the demise of at least four Gifts.

“There are functions, too,” he adds quietly, with just a hint of something in his voice that you imagine to be embarrassment or reluctance, “ that I will be expected to attend, with you by my side.”

“And by functions you mean…?”

“You might call it a party. Others who have been recipients of the Emperor’s goodwill would also be there, with their gifts. We will be… observed.”

He waits for that to sink in.

No… You have an idea of what he means, and it makes your blood run cold.

“It is imperative that we demonstrate our appreciation of His generosity.”

Your stomach turns. Not quite ready to confront the reality of what he’s telling you. “Can’t you just send a ‘thank you’ holo or something?”

He remains silent.

“How… how many people?”

“Hundreds.”

“Hundreds…” you repeat hollowly. “Observed… doing what? Having dinner together? Do you fuck me right there on the table between courses or could we get away with waiting until after the meal and finding a dark corner?”

Thrawn says nothing for a moment, just gives you a rather irritated look. “Understand,” he says flatly, “that I did not ask for you. You are a distraction.”

You have to swallow down the insult of this rejection.

“Then leave me at some spaceport. Outer Rim, I don’t care.” You say, voice cracking. One more try, even though he’s already convinced you of the futility of it all.

“I did not say I don’t want you. But— as I said, I cannot. If I let you escape, I show incompetence, and lack of control over those in my care. If I let you go, it would be seen as rejecting the Emperor’s goodwill, disobeying his command, even.”

It clicks in your mind, then. If you do not give him a certain degree of cooperation, it could hurt his career and reputation— whatever that might be. He is concerned enough to mention it, though his attempts to cajole you into compliance so far have been baffling. This strange Grand Admiral claims to have no regard for your wishes but he is actually trying to convince you instead of ripping off your clothes and holding you down. He’s taken the time to explain it all and seems to want you to understand his reasoning.

You take a deep breath, trying to slow your heart pounding. Thrawn still holds you close, and he is so tall his rank plaque is just above eye level for you.

“The embroidery on your robe and veil — tell me about it.”

This catches you off guard. “I—it’s part of our traditional— I don’t know what to call it. Our uniform, I guess. It’s added during our Vigil.”

“It is very fine work.” He sounds intrigued, and picks up the hem, holding it closer to look at and brushing his thumb over the stitching. “And the other two with you before, their garments had similar work to yours, also done in the same type of thread, though not as intricate. The motifs were simpler, and the execution… adequate. This was done with great skill and care.” He grasps your wrist in such a way as to closer inspect the embroidery; it draws you clear to him so you are pressed against his body. You squirm, knowing he can feel your breasts against him, as you can feel his heavy belt, and that he’s half-hard and hot against your stomach.

“Be still,” he murmurs, making no effort to conceal his arousal. He takes a few more moments examining the work, then lets it fall.

“Now,” he says. “Will you remove your veil?”

With a cooler head, you realize he had done nothing to punish your outburst, nor any of your other little jibes. Stars, you had tried to hit him and he hadn’t even been angry about it. This doesn’t mean you’re safe with him. Doesn’t earn him even a little trust. But for now, it seems wise to acquiesce. This will be okay, or at least not so bad. He will not demean or abuse you. And he is right. There is no good way out of this, for either of you.

Heart pounding-- no one outside the cloister on Coruscant has seen your bare face in over a year-- you sweep the fabric up and over, so that it trails down your back as if you were a bride. The change in light makes you blink and squint for a moment. Thrawn leans forward, as if he can’t help himself, and strokes a lock of your hair off your face.

You try not to flinch away from him, nor to let any emotion show.

But he traces his thumb over your lips and you feel a hot prickle of tears that you can’t hold back. It would almost be easier if he were cruel.

“When they train you,” he says, voice dangerously quiet, “do they fuck you?”

You feel a pulse through your core at his question, and immediately shove the feeling down. “Why? You don’t want someone who’s been used before?” Mouthy again. His expression stays mild.

“Previous experiences do not concern me. I only wish to know what your training entailed.”

“No. They don’t. In most cases the recipients want to be able to be the first, you know, to be in control of…that.” You finish lamely, a vivid blush creeping up your neck.

“It is believed the recipient will wish to shape the desires of his companion,” Thrawn offers.

“Yes. Not because of anything like— like purity.”

He takes a moment to consider this, then asks, “are you pure?”

You blink, meeting his eyes, and immediately regret it, as you feel tears well up anew. You quickly look aside, and can see the dark edge of space out the viewport, just where it meets the muddy orange-gold of the atmosphere. “No,” you say, then look right back at him, lifting your chin. “Are you?”

One blue-black eyebrow goes up. “No.”

Then he lets you go, saying nothing more during the ride except to direct your attention to the Chimaera on approach. It is a magnificent ship, and you press against the transparisteel trying to see more of it, though its bulk quickly fills the entire view. On the underbelly of the ship is painted a huge, stylized chimaera, twin heads crossing over the wedge line. You have to restrain yourself from asking him a million questions about everything you see as you pass beneath the bow and into its massive shadow.

An escort of four TIE fighters sweeps in to escort the shuttle to the hangar bay. The distinctive high roar of their engines is somehow audible inside the shuttle. You had never understood that, though admittedly your knowledge of physics and space travel is limited. You almost ask Thrawn. He would know, and he is still standing quite close to you. You can feel him at your back, watching the same panorama, and the one time you brave a glance over your shoulder at him, his gaze is distant and his expression inscrutable.

☆ link to part 3 ☆

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selfindulgentpixies · 8 months

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The hands that hold you ch9: Here for you

SatoSugu x GN!reader master list

It's finally here! Also holyshit we're at chapter 9. This series is the longest thing i've ever written solo before. I know this one was super delayed. Between me getting horribly sad and depressed over certain events for several weeks and just being busy this one took a while. It also took a bit because it was hard to write emotionally for me. Reader goes through it in this chapter for a bit. We get a bit more of a glimpse into things they've been rather tight lipped about and then.. well i'll say it because he's his own warning label, Naoya shows up. Note: 1.While at the beginning of second year Yaga is still a teacher I had him get his promotion by the fall for the exchange event to principle though he still maintains his teaching duties as well. 2. I said it before but i'll make note of it again, since the japanese school year typically starts in the spring it is still Satoru and Suguru's second year. CW: GN!reader, Afab!reader (I haven't said it explicitly until now but given the self inserty nature of this reader and how Naoya treats them it's fairly obvious. Only they/them pronouns are used for reader), Allusions to past abuse, the word whore is used. If you've gotten this far you probably already know that reader is foreigner who was adopted by Yaga (Listen i look at him and all my thoughts are "dad? Dad.You're my dad now." Don't ask why.) ___

“That’s such crap! It was fine when Suguru and I competed a year early for the exchange event! We should be able to participate this year too.” Satoru’s voice cuts into the hall as you walk alongside Haibara causing the two of you to slow your steps as you pass the classroom.

Inside Satoru looks annoyed, arms crossed and leaning back in his desk chair. Suguru only looks mildly disgruntled by the news Yaga is giving the two of them.

Yaga sighs. “You weren’t special grade yet. You’re a lot stronger than a year ago. I’ve already talked to Gakuganji about it. He's firm on the fact that the two of you shouldn’t compete since having two special grades will unfairly tilt the odds of the competition in Tokyo’s favor. “

Satoru replies, voice mocking Yaga’s, “Yeah well it unfairly tilts the odds in kyoto’s favor if you put us down two students,” he then continues in his normal voice, “And maybe if kyoto’s students were stronger they wouldn’t have to disqualify us to win. Guess they’re not over losing last year because of a pair of first years.” Suguru makes a sound that could be taken as agreement.

“The terms of the competition have already been set, Satoru.” Yaga runs a hand over his short hair, frustration building. He could understand both sides of it and while he wasn't a fan himself it was what it was.

Haibara and yourself are too focused on what’s being said inside the classroom to notice as Nanami walks up behind the two of you. “What the hell are you two doing?”

You squeak and Haibara gasps , you both startle enough to jump slightly and Haibara’s larger frame jerking against yours causes you to fall over, pushing the door open as you face plant onto the floor followed by Haibara falling on top of you.

The tension in the room breaks slightly as everyone falls silent and stares at the two of you.

You groan out what could only be deciphered as an ‘ow’ from beneath Haibara, unable to be embarrassed immediately with your face squished into the floor and all of your friend’s muscle crushing down on you.

“Ah! Sorry, ___!” He rolls off you quickly, still on the floor. You push yourself up, rising to your knees, pointedly staring at the floor, both out of embarrassment and just knowing you’re in trouble. The stifled laugh from Satoru doesn’t help and flicking your eyes up shows Suguru has placed his hand over his mouth.

Yaga pinches the space between his brows and lets out a slow breath, doing his best to subdue his mounting irritation and rising headache. “Now I know you know better than to eavesdrop.”

You shrink back and fold your hands on your lap, eyes remaining dowcast. Haibara has assumed a similar position but looks sheepish instead of nervous. In unison the two of you speak. “Sorry, Sensei.”

“And you?” Yaga directs his attention behind the two of you.

You can’t see it but Nanami raises his hands and shakes his head. “I was just passing by, I swear.”

Yaga’s focus turns back to you and taking in your actual nervousness he sighs. “I suppose this works. How much did the two of you hear?”

You glance up at Yaga and shift uncomfortably. “Something about not allowing Satoru or Suguru to compete in the upcoming exchange event?” That was exactly what it had been of course but you phrase it as a question, something odd to your voice. It causes Suguru’s brows to knit together. If Satoru catches it he doesn’t let on and instead he groans and hangs his head back causing his glasses to slide onto his forehead at the reminder of what they’d been talking about before you and Haibara had interrupted.

Yaga nods. “That’s right. And If you didn’t hear Satoru did point out how when it comes to numbers the competition will be unbalanced. Shoko would be the only second year involved and her focus isn't combat. To balance out the numbers it’s not unheard of for first years to compete in the exchange event.“

Haibara speaks up. “Ah! So are you asking if we’ll be in the exchange event?” Excitent fills his voice and when you glance at him you swear his eyes are sparkling. Of course he’d be excited. Somewhere behind you you swear you hear Nanami sigh.

“That’s it exactly.” He confirms.

Nanami who hadn’t been eavesdropping, speaks up. “Wait, why aren’t Geto-senpai and Gojo-senpai competing? Wouldn’t they be a lot more likely to win-” and so another round of conversation and argument starts though by the end of it it’s decided that you and your fellow first years would indeed be competing in place of Suguru and Satoru.

___

After, when you go to part ways from your boyfriends to go with Nanami and Haibara, Suguru stops you with a gentle hand on your wrist. “If you don’t mind, I'd like to steal you for a bit.” You turn and blink up at him and then glance at your classmates. Haibara gives you an encouraging wave.

“We’ll see you later for the mission, yeah?”

“Of course,” you try for a smile though it doesn’t entirely reach your eyes until you turn toward Suguru. It falters again though when you see the worry clear in his eyes. Oh. Oh this was probably going to be a not so fun conversation. A glance toward Satoru shows he’s also watching you more closely now that he’s not lamenting how unfair the situation with the exchange event is.

Nanami and Haibara are already around a corner but you still try to make an excuse. “Ah actually maybe I should go with them-”

When both young men retain their serious air and Suguru maintains his hold on your wrist your shoulders deflate just a bit. You really hope he wants to talk to you about the eavesdropping but you know deep down that won’t be it. He wouldn’t care about that enough to pull you away from what you were already doing. Honestly you sort of wished that the two of them weren’t so observant right now. “I don’t want to talk about it here, really I don’t want to talk about it at all, but if I can’t avoid it let's go to one of our dorms or somewhere else private…”

“Of course,” Suguru replies gently, just glad that you’re showing some willingness to talk even if it’s reluctant.

The walk to the dorms goes too quickly for your liking and when you enter Suguru’s room you go and flop face first on his bed. After you hear the door slide closed the bed dips twice, once on either side of you.

“So you wanna tell us why you looked like a nervous rabbit back there?” Satoru’s voice is deceptively light despite going straight to the point. If your face wasn’t still buried in Suguru’s comforter you would have seen the look he shoots Satoru. Honestly though it was probably better that he was being direct.

You mumble something into the comforter and then feel a hand on your shoulder before you’re being encouraged to roll onto your back, which you do. “No, I don't want to tell you. But I suppose the two of you won’t let this go until I do… It’s stupid honestly.”

The young men share a glance before Suguru speaks up. “Can’t be stupid if it’s got you this stressed out. “

“It is though… I shouldn’t still be reacting that way after nearly three years away from…” You trail off your brows knitting together.

It’s not hard for Suguru and Satoru to slot the pieces into place then. You were always so reluctant to talk about your life before Yaga adopted you. In fact anytime anyone has so much as tried to ask you more than the most basic questions about it you change the subject.

“I was overreacting to the idea that I was about to be in trouble…” you continue quietly. “Even though Yaga sensei has never given me a reason to be nervous about it.”

This was true, it had been something of note that Yaga was gentle even with his reprimands of you. Despite being a bit of a muscle brain in Suguru’s opinion he was more gentle than expected. Honestly both he and Satoru had just chalked it up to him having a soft spot for you since he’d taken you in. This was beginning to paint a more complete picture of why, even though you were still being purposefully vague. That’s when Suguru hears it, a small sniffle. He hadn’t realized he’d been getting lost in his head, fists clenched tightly on his lap until he looks over at you. Your lower lip wobbling slightly before you pull it between your teeth.

“Hey hey… shhh..” Satoru’s hand rests on your cheek, thumb swiping beneath your eye catching a tear you hadn’t even realized slipped out.

“I’m sorry-” your voice comes out tight, you hated that your walls you’d crafted so carefully around these particular emotions were cracking so easily. You’d hoped you could just speak matter of factly and clinically about it. But the show of care makes something give.

Suguru’s laying down next to you in a moment, arm going around your waist. “Why are you apologizing? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

That makes several more fat tears roll down your cheeks. And honestly? You weren’t sure why. You just know the show of emotion is making guilt constrict your chest.

When you fail to answer Suguru tugs you against his chest, his eyes flicking up to Satoru after he tucks your head under his chin. Satoru runs a hand over your spine. “I’ll be right back okay? Gonna grab ya a couple things,” Satoru says in a soothing tone that would be unfamiliar to anyone but you and Suguru.

When he comes back he’s brought tissues along with bottled water and your favorite snack. It doesn’t fix everything but it helps. The show of care helps a lot. Later the two of them will quietly agree to not push on this topic and to let you tell them things at your own pace, if you ever wanted to tell them at all.

The time leading up to the exchange event passes about as peacefully as time can pass for young sorcerers. When your schedules line up you and your fellow first years train with Suguru and Satoru. Honestly you may have been a little too gleeful to see them get tossed around the training field like you’d been for months. You still got tossed around too but at least Nanami and Haibara couldn’t tease you about it. Especially since it almost seemed like your boyfriends were harder on you than them. Tough love is what it could be chalked up to. If you wanted to train with them it wasn’t going to be half assed. It wasn’t like curses and curse users would take it easy on you just because you were the subject of affection for two of the strongest sorcerers. If anything it was a reason to train you harder. Both of them were painfully aware of how you could be viewed as a weak point for them.

It all goes by too quickly. Soon enough you’re meeting the students from Kyoto. Regrettably you’d soon realize. You stand in front of Shoko who’s sitting on an old stone fence, idly picking at some of the moss growing on it. Without looking at you she asks, “So are they going to show up to greet the Kyoto students?”

“Hmm? Satoru and Suguru? I doubt it. It was Kyoto’s principle that got them disqualified from the event and made it so Nanami, Haibara and I would have to sub in. Satoru was still pretty bitter about it all this morning.” You glance briefly at your fellow first years who are a small ways away from the two of you speaking with some third years you weren’t familiar with.

“And Geto?” Shoko’s words draw your focus back to her.

“I’m not sure he cares anymore. He seemed pretty apathetic about it all,” it was actually starting to worry you how many things he was starting to act apathetic about honestly. Well now that you thought about it he wasn’t entirely apathetic about the competition. “Well.. beyond asking me to be careful.”

Shoko gives you a small smile. “Who knows, maybe that means he’ll show up just for you, maybe they both will.”

Neither of you notice the figure approaching you.

You laugh a little, shyness and affection warming your chest at the idea. “Nah.. I mean they saw me this morning before I left. Satoru even got up early despite being grumpy about the event so he could have breakfast with me and see me off. Pretty sure he went back to bed after.”

“Huh, so you must be the one since you’re using his first name all familiar like even though he’s older than you.” An unfamiliar voice cuts into your conversation, sounding unimpressed.

You blink and turn, coming face to face with a blonde teenage boy you can only assume is one of the students from kyoto given his uniform. When did he come up behind you? Before you can say anything though he continues.

“I guess your face is pretty enough that I can understand keeping you around.”

Shoko mumbles something distinctly impolite under her breath while you bristle at the stranger’s words. You tip your chin up and meet his eyes with a glare. “Excuse me, just who are you to speak to me that way? I don’t even know you.”

He sneers at you. The defiant look in your eye instantly pisses him off. “You’re right you don’t know or you wouldn’t speak to me like that. You’re what, just a little whore and an outsider sleeping with the future head of the Gojo clan and his best friend right? Hoping to advance your station in a place you don’t belong?” He takes a step toward you, invading your space.

Your cheeks flush with angry heat, his words like a slap to the face. No one had ever called you something quite like that before. But more than that, the insinuation that you were using Satoru made your blood boil. Everything else falls away. You don’t even register Shoko’s hand on your shoulder or the rising voices before the loud crack of the back of your hand colliding with this jackass’s cheek creates a stunned hush among all present.

He stands there in disbelief before his eyes narrow at you, with a snarl he grabs the front of your uniform, free hand drawing back-

—

Satoru flops back onto the bed, stretching out all his limbs and entirely taking up the space earning him an unimpressed look from Suguru. “Are you really going to go back to bed?” followed by a mumbled ‘and get out of my bed if you're going to keep your day clothes on.’

“I mean we actually have the day off, everyone else is busy with the exchange event, what else is there to do but catch up on some well deserved rest?” He stretches his arms above his head in an exaggerated manner before folding them under his head. He pointedly ignores Suguru’s complaint about his state of dress.

“I feel we should be there at least for the initial meeting, Satoru.”

“Why? We’re not participating,” a bit of annoyance creeps into his tone. “And we already wished ___ luck before they left to meet up with the others.”

“That’s the thing… Who are the participants this year? On our end it’s our first years, Shoko and some third years that ___ hasn’t actually had a chance to meet. Utahime just entered her fourth year so she’s not competing. Then for Kyoto it’s…”

“A bunch of weaklings,” Satoru says flippantly before continuing. “Mei-san has also aged out of competing.” then a thought seems to occur to Satoru. Last year kyoto had a certain first year who made a fuss about not being allowed to compete while he and Suguru were. The smarmy smirk of a boy he’d seen more times than he’d of liked when he’d been pulled along on clan business by his father flashes through his mind. “Naoya is going to be there this year.” He sits up and looks at Suguru. Apparently he’d been waiting to see if Satoru would come to the realization on his own.

“Are we sure they’ll be okay running into him? Pretty sure other than you this will be their first time running into another student who’s a member of the three clans. And he’s from Zenin on top of it. He’d probably mostly behave if we were there as a buffer but I can only imagine the sorts of things he may say without us there. Especially if he catches them one on one. He’d probably bring up all the worst of the rumors too.”

Satoru swings his legs over the side of the bed. “Tch. Can’t believe I forgot he’d be showing up this year.. Not to say I don’t trust ___ abilities but i’d rather not just leave them to deal with Naoya without warning..” It should have been an entire talk, not just about Naoya but about how sorcerer’s outside the school may view them based on rumors alone of the relationship the three of you share since none of you even attempted to hide it.

They leave in short order after that. Honestly they both hoped they were overreacting and that with other people around Naoya would behave. Then they could warn you of what to potentially expect from him during the actual competition so you wouldn’t be caught off guard. When the two of them see Yaga and Gakuganji along with several students from kyoto they have some hope until they notice Naoya isn’t among them. It’s not like you’re alone though and they know you’d hate if they made a scene of rushing to you if you weren’t in any trouble, so they casually approach the group. They brush off the suspicious glances from the two principles. Brushing off any questioning with comments of ‘what? Just because we can’t compete does that means we’re not allowed to show up and greet the other students? They can’t fight but they can show some goodwill for the goodwill exchange event right?’

It’s while they’re ascending the stairs that they hear some of Naoya’s words, venom dripping from his every word. And if the look on Yaga’s face is any indication he hears as well.

“You’re right you don’t know or you wouldn’t speak to me like that. You’re what, just a little whore and an outsider sleeping with the future head of the Gojo clan and his best friend right? Hoping to advance your station in a place you don’t belong?” The words silence all surrounding conversation once they leave Naoya’s mouth, finally getting the attention of the other surrounding students.

Satoru’s blood boils, both at the words in general but the fact that he’d try to put in your head that you were using him in anyway. Yaga begins to say something but before the words seem to reach anyone they all watch wide eyed as the back of your hand connects with Naoya’s cheek. It wasn’t something anyone expected, least of all Naoya considering he hadn’t reacted at all until his head snapped to the side from the action.

Both Satoru and Suguru see it though, the moment murder flashes in his eyes. Once he touches you though, one hand fisting into the front of your uniform while the other rears back Satoru is there in an instant his own hand wrapping around Naoya’s wrist, stopping him before he can do anything. “I knew you were an ass but I didn’t think you were stupid too, Naoya.” Satoru’s grip on his wrist is so tight that the bones creak. Suguru is there nearly as quickly smacking Naoya’s hand away from your uniform and pulling you to his chest.

“Tch” Naoya goes to yank his hand away but Satoru refuses to let go.

“Enough!” All eyes turn toward Gakuganji, as he stands at the head of the stairs. Yaga’s jaw is set tight as he stands beside the old man. It’s only after meeting Yaga’s gaze that Satoru roughly releases Naoya’s wrist, which is already an angry color that will surely turn into a dark bruise. It's a tense meeting of the schools from that point. Satoru and Suguru crowded close to you and Shoko glaring daggers at Naoya. They’re not the only ones either. If looks could kill Naoya be dead several times over.

Yaga looks you over and then around at the other Tokyo students. “You all go on ahead to the meeting room. I need to have a talk with Kyoto’s principal. Begin planning your strategy for the competition.” No one argues as he walks off.

The walk to the meeting room is uncomfortable. No one quite sure what they should say to you and you unsure what you would want to say back in turn at the moment. You feel embarrassed, ashamed even at how Naoya had spoken to you. The things he’d said run on repeat in your head and you stare at the ground as you walk. Suddenly Shoko is squeezing between you and Satoru and throwing an arm around your shoulders. “I want to talk to you for a minute.” She pulls you away from the rest of the group and when Satoru and Suguru try to follow she gives them a look. “I want to talk to ___-chan.”

You give them the best reassuring smile you can. “It’s fine.” Your voice is thinner than you’d hoped it would be but after sharing a look they seem to decide that letting you go with Shoko is fine.

“We won’t be far if you need us, alright?” Suguru offers gently.

You smile a little more genuinely. “Okay.” And with that Shoko leads you toward a different room.

Flicking on a light and closing the door behind the two of you, Shoko then leads you to sit on a plush couch. Once seated you begin to speak, “I’m sor-” Shoko’s flicks your forehead and you let out a little ‘ow’ and rub at the spot instinctively.

“Don’t you even start apologizing. You didn’t do anything wrong,” she says firmly. The words ring familiar in your mind. You begin to speak again, to argue in some fashion but she covers your mouth. When you give up she huffs and continues, though her features soften. “Like I said, you didn’t do anything wrong. Naoya is just a prick. Most Zenin men are honestly… But he’s especially open about it.”

With her hand removed you look down at your lap with a pout. “Is that really how people see me?”

She suddenly squishes your face between her palms and makes you look at her. “You listen to me. The only people who think of you that way are people who don’t matter. I see how you look at those two idiots and I see how they look at you. It would be annoying how much love is there if it wasn’t so sweet. And i’m not the only one, all our friends do too. Nothing Naoya says or what anyone else thinks can change that. It can’t change that you're a good person who’s loved and works hard and cares deeply for those around you. It won’t change how Gojo and Geto feel. I’m sure you’ll hear that from them later.” She releases your face and leans back against the arm of the couch.

You’re quiet as you mull over her words. She was right of course. There’s a knock at the door making the both of you jump slightly. The door opens and Haibara sticks his face in. “Sorry if i’m interrupting, Yaga-sensei is back and we’re waiting on the two of you.” He looks between the two of you concern furrowing his brow. You didn’t know it yet but he and Nanami had been only moments from intervening if not for Satoru and Suguru suddenly arriving.

“Ah, of course, we’ll be right there.” You stand and so does Shoko. You glance at her. “Could you give us just a minute more?”

He nods. “I’ll let everyone know the two of you are on your way.” He offers you a smile though it’s not quite as full of his usual cheer.

Once the door closes you turn to Shoko. “Thank you, Shoko-senpai.. I think I needed to hear you say that.”

She smiles and surprises you by pulling you in for a hug. “Anytime. Like I said before I’m sure Gojo and Geto would have reassured you but I think it’s good you hear it from people on the outside too.” She pulls back and smiles when she sees you looking just a bit bashful at her sudden display of affection. “Now let’s get back, yeah?”

“Yeah okay.” You give her a shy smile in turn and she links your arm with her’s before leading you from the room and down the hall toward everyone else.

Oh this was great. The only thing that would have been better was if they’d been allowed to kick Naoya’s ass for how he’d spoken to you. It even numbed the sting of not being able to compete in the exchange event themselves. Satoru and Suguru lounged in their seats, watching the competition unfold on the monitors with the teachers. They weren’t the only students here though. Not far off, looking absolutely miserable and pissed was none other than Naoya. Freshly disqualified for his conduct and they got to watch him huff and scoff each time you scored points for Tokyo. He probably at least wanted to see you screw up or get injured but instead you did anything but. Effortlessly slaying the released curses while guarding Shoko.

Every once in a while Naoya swears and grumbles about his team and why the hell they aren’t targeting the two of you harder. After all, if they made a concerted effort they could overwhelm you and get at your healer, right? More than once she’d kept someone from your side in top shape. Yet his team had only tried one at a time to have a go it seemed and there you were each time, keeping Shoko safe. Pride swelled in Satoru and Suguru’s chests. They’d admittedly been worried that what had happened earlier would throw off your focus but instead you seem to have turned those emotions outward and were using them to fight instead of letting them eat at you.

They even got a bit of a treat near the end, getting to see how well you and Nanami work together in a fight. Him joining you when you reported that the main curse was near your location. Haibara volunteered to stay with Shoko while the two of you engaged it since he needed an injury healed anyway and you didn’t want to give Kyoto the time to take it out by waiting.

The duel blackflashes at the end from you and Nanami finishing off the curse and winning tokyo the competition was just the cherry on top. The action elicits high fives between Suguru and Satoru and even a cheer from Yaga which he coughs to cover up. Naoya meanwhile finally having had enough gets up and storms from the room. Gakuganji is forced to get up and follow him to try and make him return since he was only allowed to stay on campus under the condition he remain supervised. Honestly your boyfriends would be snickering at him if they weren’t so focused on what Nanami and you just pulled off.

The day ends far better than it began. Yaga taking the Tokyo students out to dinner to celebrate the win. Nanami and you, much to your mortification, get special attention in way of an improvised sing-song cheer by Satoru that Haibara joins in on in the restaurant, causing both of you to try and vanish into your seats. Haibara slings an arm around Nanami’s shoulders and Satoru does the same to you, continuing on with their little routine. Despite how you cover your face with your hands to hide from all the eyes focused on you, you’re smiling.

___

And that's where this one ends! I hope it wsn't too rough of a read. I'm just bringing together certain threads i've hopefully established before now. I hope the ending makes up for some of it. I know techinically there is a day two to the exchange event but I don't feel like writing it. Before i decided to have Naoya get kicked from the event i was playing with the idea of him and reader being put against eachother in the 1 v 1 match but I got tired of putting him in the same space as reader... He's an emotionally tolling character for me to write.

The next chapter will be snapshots of the rest of second year (including me planning to show Satoru and Suguru's birthdays) christmas, new years, ect. It'll be a bit disjointed. The chapter will probably literally be called snap shots. After it's it written though we enter the stage of stuff i actually wrote ahead of time and just need to tweak to tie it together better to the rest of the story.

Thank you all for being so patient with me while i got this chapter figured out.

Special thanks once again to @strawberrystepmom for beta reading this for me otherwise i may have scrapped the entire idea of including the exchange event because i was having such a time with this chapter.

Tag list: @nanamikentoseyebags @icy-spicy @biscuitsngravie @sleezzsister @moonsua1 @yuuuumii @yokaimoon @chibiizzy @porridgesblog @suhmie @defacatestenderly @agentdedf1sh @strawberrystepmom

@night-shadowblood-writes2 @missphanosaur18

(Pls have your age in your bio before asking to be added to the tag list. My blog isn't for minors.)

#satoru gojo x reader #suguru geto x reader #satosugu x reader #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #gojo x reader #gn!reader #jjk x reader #jjk x gn!reader #rossi writes #posting and running away

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terrence-silver · 22 days

Note

Imagine beloved had left 80s Terry around the same time as John and he couldn’t find her despite all of his resources. Then at his little garden party where he’s introduced in CK, he/she turns up with Kreese. How would he react?….

The One Who Got Away

Terry Silver x Reader (With spectacular amounts of meddling from John Kreese)

—

John believed himself a good friend, even when nobody understood his methods.

His technique.

But, sometimes genuinely favorable intentions tended to be misunderstood in life precisely because truth had the habit of being a hard pill to swallow for some, the same way Terry misunderstood him when he hung up the phone on him after decades of radio silence even though John didn’t take it to heart; not in the way someone else might’ve taken it to heart, anyway. He understood bitterness. Festering, unresolved issues. Baggage. Old resentments. Hell, he lived with a great many old things like the lack of closure as the only companionship he could openly boast for quite a while — in fact, old memories proved to be better company than most people would've. After all, Terry reached out countless times over the years, offering him opportunities, employment, money, second, third and fourth chances, never once getting the fact that to John, living off of quite so much charity was like castration, even if a good friend was the one holding the amputation blade. He might as well not be a man if someone else puts his bread and butter on the table instead of himself. Of course they both knew where the other was these past thirty something years, the short distance between them like an aching gap that couldn’t close or stop bleeding. John was legally homeless because, to him, there was a certain honor in refusing handouts and across town, Terry was cooped up in possibly his millionth new mansion since the 80’s, switching his usual old haunt up in The Hills for a beachfront porch out in Malibu were he took to hosting garden parties and charity events nowadays; a pastime for the semi-retired.

It was all over the newspapers and luckily, John enjoyed swapping through articles — has done so ever since he was a young man. Terry Silver had no marriage, no children, no official affiliation with any martial arts by the looks of it, some woman beside him.

John knows her type.

What GI's back in the days used to call a Boom Boom Girl.

A Boom Boom Girl putting on airs that she wasn't a Boom Boom Girl.

John places his finger over her face on the glossy paper of the periodical, covering her features as he eyes the phone in his hand, wondering if Terry never quite got down to having either progeny or matrimony because it wasn’t with you; somehow, things fell apart after the ‘85 tournament and old friendships and creeds broke into a thousand pieces, you becoming the one who got away amidst the wreckage and all the fallout. John felt responsible for you. Responsible, perhaps, in a way an older brother would be. A father, even though you were close in age, only several years of difference between you. Thinking that someone Terry cared about was in equal measure someone he should keep an eye out for. Watch, from afar. A solidarity of a Cobra for another Cobra and the Cobra’s mate. You never married either. Never had kids. John kept a careful tab on everything. Seems like the three of you were much the same, he thinks, as he hits up your number, one hand entering the digits who went to some pretty big lengths to track down, his other hand and his finger still pressed against the paper of the periodical; something or other about a Mindfulness App and its upcoming promotion. John saw nothing wrong in sabotaging an existing relationship to make another one happen. Picking apart people to bring together someone with somebody else. He’s done worse in life. Done better too. Never regretted any of it. This was probably the first time he was willingly playing a game of Good Cupid, Bad Cupid.

To quote Terry himself, extreme situations required extreme measures.

A nearby thin, black ballpoint marker stands on the table of his dojo office and listening to the clicking of the phone line pressed against his ear, John unplugs the top, drawing an X over the face of the person Hello! Magazine’s interviewer described as one Cheyenne Hamidi, standing next to Terry during what seemed like an official photoshoot of sorts. Promotional glossy bullshit with a plastic sprinkling of sparkles doused all over it.

Battle plans.

So many battle plans for the Thirty Year War.

Terry shouldn’t have terminated their phone call like that. Shouldn’t have left him out in the cold when all he wanted to do was talk. Cut him off, will he? The man who saved his life as many times as he did? His oldest ever friend? Whenever John Kreese was faced with an unmovable wall that barricaded him out, he returned to the place with a tank. You happened to be a crucial part of his heavy artillery.

A familiar voice answers on the other side; you sound aged. But still you.

-"Hello? Who’s this?"-

You inquire carefully, the questioning in your voice peppered with confusion once you get no immediate answer back. John sets down the marker on the desk. After a brief moment of silence, he has to smile. My, was it good to hear you loud and clear after all these years. He wondered if you’d recognize him if he spoke. Regardless, taking no chances, he chooses to introduce himself, hoping you wouldn’t hang up on him like Terry did. He shuts the periodical he’s drawn on, tossing it aside.

-"Toots? It’s John Kreese."-

—

-"Look at you. You’re a smokeshow!"-

-"Oh, please, John, I’ve aged. I’m all wrinkles."-

Those are the first words you exchange once he arranges a meeting, wondering to a degree, how was it that for all his connections, money, resources and usual habit of getting what he wants when he wants it, Terry never sought you out when John managed, not possessing a quarter of his means, concluding that Terry simply choose to capitulate, which was entirely out of character for him, to be as defeatist as to give up on something he felt belonged to him. Things changed. Things needed to be back to order, by the looks of it. John squeezes your hand in a handshake, for old times sake. -"I resent that."- He says, smiling into his own chin, looking you up and down. The years did it's toll, but you were still a grand lady. Shocking how nobody came to scoop you up over the years. Less shocking once he'd consider the fact that he'd make them disappear even if they tried ---- for Terry's own sake. Even if Terry never asked him to do that, John knew --- oh, he knew he needed someone to do that regardless; someone needed to pick up the good fight for him and in his stead occasionally now that he was seemingly playing the role of a Pacifist in newspapers people kept in their salons and never actually read. So, naturally, John plays clueless and asks the very question he already the knew the answer to. -"Tell me, how come you never got married? How’s that even possible?"- He goes by way of flattery, watching something gloomy wash over your face as you sit down on a nearby park bench, sighing deeply. That serious, huh?

-"Oh, John. You know why."-

He knew why. He knew everything.

Collecting intel was one of his talents.

But, still. A looker like you? Men in this city either became dumber over the years or they've lost their taste entirely. Probably both.

-"He’s never married either."-

And he just about should've been by now, he yearns to add.

Keeping his thoughts to himself for the time being and instead, John immediately chooses to cut to the chase; cut the bullshit, get to the point, meeting your glance knowingly and you nod, visibly gulping hard. It was clear it was difficult for you to talk about this --- that this was a taxing topic, even after all these decades, even though you knew exactly who he was talking about even without a name ever being mentioned. Terry was always on your mind, wasn't he? At least, frequently enough that he didn't even have to be brought up directly for you to catch the context immediately. -"Look, I was the one who ran when things got out of hand. You know that. He’s got every right be hurt."- You manage, appearing almost apologetic about it. -"And by the looks of it, he’s been doing very well for himself now. Then again, has there ever been a time when he wasn’t?"- You looking down towards your own lap and the hands on them, chuckling to yourself with a note of bitterness, and yeah, there have been times when Terry Silver hasn't been doing good, and if John could attest to that with certainty it is because he's seen him at his lowest and ironically, for all the razzle, dazzle, glitz and glamour, he'd be damned if anyone could convince him he was doing good right now, no matter what the shills in the media were claiming; Newspapers you no doubt saw too. John wondered if you were jealous? Heartbroken? You had to be. If his Betsy went and married some random schmuck who wasn't him he'd about ram his teeth down his throat over it, and that would only be the introduction. -"What I mean to say, John, I am happy, if he’s happy. We’re from two different worlds, we always have been, but Terry’s contentment is all I want."-

No lies detected in your voice.

Only honesty. Clear as a stream. Just as vulnerable. Fragile.

See, this is exactly why he wanted you for Terry.

Kind.

Selfless.

Almost noble.

The willingness to stay in the shadows and self-sacrifice your happiness.

Not a single advantageous, opportunistic bone in your body in regards to Terry.

True love.

That was it. What it looked like.

In strange ways beyond explanation, your manner reminded John of Betsy all his life --- Betsy if she was allowed to age and grow old, no more than it did there and then, something similarly timeless and eerily haunting about you two; something sweet and genuine once you said that you wanted nothing but Terry's contentment and he figured, Terry, Twig --- he needed all the help he could get even when he didn't realize it. Even when he wouldn't admit to it. Ever since the war, he needed a push in the right direction. Someone to guide him in a seamless sense. Save him. John would guide him. Save him, yes. For the umpteenth time. John would guide him right where he witnessed Terry happiest back in the day, right to you. The natural payment for that would be Cobra Kai reestablished and reinstated to it's former glory where it belonged. John watches Terry's back, Terry watches his. Who said there wasn't a thread of selfishness to the transaction? In 'Nam, when rations were low, John tended to let Twig drink out of his canteen, eat from his share of meals purely so he'd have a fighting chance at growing a pair of muscles and surviving the long marches out in the jungle even if it meant there would be less food left for John. Was it quite so different today, over forty years later? John gets Cobra Kai and Terry gets the love of his life because John would ensure the meeting possible. Precisely because he was ready to selfishly meddle. Divide and conquer.

So, really, in the end, who gets more out of the deal?

-"Look, toots, I’ll be going to see him to talk business."-

John offers.

-"If you want to come with me, you should."-

-"No, John, c’mon. I can't."-

You immediately snort and fidget, overtaken by a nervous edge of unwillingness.

Profusely embarrassed, gripping the edge of the bench with both hands.

Looking like you wanted to stand up and make an excuse to leave.

-"I can’t randomly show up in his life like that."-

Can't or were too afraid to?

Because John wasn't afraid; he'd scale the walls of his mansion if he had to.

Fight whatever security detour there was in place.

With you on his back.

-"Give me one good reason why you shouldn’t."-

John inquires, taking no prisoners, being as serious as he could be as he scrutinizes your anxiety, because no, genuinely, your place was by Terry's side ever since the good, old days. Everything between there and now was a load of bullshit and if John loathed anything it was loads of bullshit. You shake your head, prodding on, still not convinced. Did you think someone was going to come along and award you a Medal of Honor if you were continued to deprive yourself of joy? -"No fair! Tell me what’s this business you two are suddenly talking about? I thought you weren’t close like that anymore."- You furrow your brows with incredulity and John simply shrugs, choosing to be blunt. After all, he didn't track you down and bring you out here to pull your nose or waste too much of his own time doing so when there was work to be done. He came here to tie up loose ends. -"It’s Cobra Kai."- He confesses, holding your gaze firmly. Your mouth remains open, like you intended to say something, but the words remained stuck halfway in your throat. Sounded like you haven't heard that name uttered in thirty years and like you weren't certain if you should even say it anymore, after everything that's transpired. -"Cobra Kai?"- You stutter, practically shooting up from where you were seated, your body language rigid. Stiff as a board. -"So, this is what it’s all about? I should've known you had an agenda the minute you contacted me! You want me to butter Terry up for you, John? Isn't that right? Get whatever financing and bankrolling you need to get your revenue expanding! None of this is honest, good or dignified!"- You point a finger at him, ranting, visibly impassioned and John has to smile into his chin. Feisty, huh? Feisty and ever so selfless once again, with all the consideration in the world for Terry's honor and well-being, like the saint you were. If anything, another proof you belonged together; that is, if Terry as he was now was man enough to even deserve you back.

And after all, so what if it wasn't honest, good or dignified?

When was war ever honest, good or dignified?

What Cobra Kai was about to do is enter an all out war.

Terry could be out here blowing his cash on buying some broad with an over inflated ego and a smug face the credentials for an unearned start-up and splitting grey hairs on a silky mansion cushion like the sad, neutered old pensioner he's made himself out to be, or he could be bringing their life's work to the fullest potential and fruition, get married to you, have an actual legacy to boast and be the man and the warrior he was always supposed to be; John didn't save him as many times as he did in Vietnam to have him withering away doing nothing with himself, and if that was the wrong attitude to have, then fuck it. John stands up too, placing himself in front of you. This wasn't just about the money and you knew it. This was greater than money. Cobra Kai, him, you and Terry were always greater than money. Terry and you were a major chunk of John Kreese's entire life. -"No. I want old times back. I want things made right. Set straight. And I want you to be on good terms again."- John explains himself, nearly saying 'I want the clock to go back', deciding not to, choosing not to risk sounding too damn sentimental for his own good, regardless how true it was. -"Why?"- You shrug your shoulders, appearing angry, unsatisfied with what you've just heard. Would you be more satisfied if he told you he was concerned with who his friend wasted his time on? That he wanted Terry with someone who was good for him? Who knew him inside out? Someone who understood him? Loved him?

Because John could do that. So, he does.

-"Because he cares about you, doll."-

John allows his head to cock to the side, endeared by the way your eyes welled up with suppressed, prideful tears once you were rendered temporarily speechless by that bit of unfiltered truth. You cared about his Twig too, didn't you? You cared about him more than you've ever cared about anyone else. Always have. Otherwise, you would've settled down. You would've done so ages ago. You could still do so now, in spite of your wrinkles and the occasional silver hair; a beauty even now. The same way John would've settled down if it wasn't for Betsy's memory. Just the way Terry would've too, if it wasn't for the memory of you. But, here you were, still choosing to be your stubborn, combative self. Well, Terry liked them with some spunk and fire, after all. So did John.

-"Oh, please, how can you claim to even know that!? Leave him be! He's in an relationship! He's moved on! It was all over the ---"-

You start arguing, getting emotional and heated, deflecting, clearly out of fear at the prospect of a reunion taking place, pleading Terry's case for him and if it wasn't for the fact the vista he choose the meeting to take place in wasn't remote, overlooking the gridded skyline of LA, giving you two some much needed privacy from prying eyes he was certain people would be turning around to stare you down, looking for the cause of all the noise and commotion, but regardless of the semantics; How could John claim Terry still cared about you? When two people were as intrinsically tied with each other for as long as he and Terry were, and they've been through all the crap he and Terry have been through, when a man is sure, he's sure. Doesn't require a science.

-"I know that man's soul better than he knows his own, is how."-

Is all John says, finally stunning you into silence.

—

The mansion was everything the newspaper spreads portrayed it as.

And in person, the walls surrounding the outer garden wall were just as tall as they seemed in the periodicals, their overall width and height causing John's throat to erupt in a chuckle once he landed on the immaculately trimmed green lawn cut to staggering perfection almost resembling a carpet trampled under his footwear pressing down it's surfaces in the aftermath of his jump down, letting you climb off of his back and unto the rug-like grass spread that encircled the whole estate dotted with decorative shrubberies, looming palm trees, white rocks and sprawling and exotic plants; a man simply never forgot his military basic training and the things he picked up there --- not even after half a century --- and in spite of the near bastion like fence embracing the premises of the manor from all sides, John found it easy to come in, undetected, grabbing hold of your hand and guiding you behind himself, following the pathway going along the sleek, white facade of the mansion's backyard. If Terry Silver's new home was a country, it would've been long since invaded by now. All pastels, light colors and jagged shapes; either his tastes drastically changed over time or he was simply following the new fashion of things purely because they were the new fashion of things and because he wanted to fly low, slipping beneath the radar, being like everyone else, pretending to be both the grass and the snake inside of it. Now, all was left was finding the man of the hour himself if he was present on the estate and judging by all the cars parked out front, like so many models on a show, he must've been. A maid carrying a tray of crushed ice in a heavy crystal decanter appears in sight and John feels you gasp in concealed surprise behind him, squeezing his arm wordlessly, fearing getting caught and seen by someone prematurely, no doubt, only for a taller, smartly dressed figure in blue to immediately come into sight once the server nearly drops the contents she was carrying away from whatever party she was catering, struggling underneath the weight of her platter's contents. At this point, John feels your hand let go of his.

Terry Silver. There he was. Meeting his gaze, head on.

He was dressed for vacation, looking like he was on a very long one.

John nods his way, smiling; the gesture unreturned. Figures.

The man, the legend, the myth.

It was time to leave the eternal vacation, though --- come back down to planet Earth.

-"What do you want?"-

Terry immediately snipes dryly, tight-jawed, seemingly cracking his neck, instantly recognizing him, appearing cold and detached, John certain that you were still in his shadow, just behind him, too embarrassed and scared to stand side by side beside him, trying to make yourself look small once he steps out of the looming corner of the manor's outer wall opening into a grand garden affair, riddled with people seated on outdoors commodes and loveseats not far off, further into the estate grounds, waited on by a staff of mingling butlers, finding Terry's eyes travelling from him, to his shoulders, of his arms, to the body adjoined to him and finding you standing there, discerning you, perhaps instantly, the shift in demeanor being almost immediate once the apologetic maid scurries off to tend to her duties and Terry's gaze remains frozen on you, through John. If he was on the verge of arguing with him on sight, the desire visibly disperses and Terry merely stands there, motionless, lost and vacant, you reacting much the same as the party goes on, only a couple of feet away, the silence looming heavy, like a bullet fired in the dead of night. John could swear, if someone dropped a tiny silver cocktail spoon at this party, it would be heard over on the other side, in Mexico; tension only interrupted by a chipper voice cutting through the discomfort looming like a dark cloud. The woman from the newspaper. The one with the 'X' over her face. Charlene, Charlotte, Cherry whatever. John remembered her full name alright, but he didn't bother giving her respect of pretending he did. -"Terrence! Aren’t you going to introduce us?"- Pep in her step followed with an English accent, she stands beside him, showing off a cool smile, Martini glass adorned with a garnish in hand; John interlocks his arm with yours, practically forcing you forward, stiff as you were, refusing to allow you stand behind his back, like some sort of nobody vagrant or a mouse attempting to crawl back into its hole. Nobody puts Baby in a corner, not on his watch, he thinks to himself. The very fact Terry didn't introduce you as This was the woman I loved, wanted to marry, wanted to have children with, wanted to have everything in the world with thirty years ago side by side with the man I've been through literal hell and back with was offensive enough John's taste buds.

So, he introduces himself.

-"Old friend."-

He speaks up, gruffly, with some humor. Introducing you next.

Seeing as how clearly you were too tongue tied to do it by yourself.

-"Old friend of an old friend."-

John glances at you averting your gaze awkwardly, forcing a tiny smile and trying not to look at anyone for too long, Cheyenne's giggle giving off the airs that she didn't particularly care what he introduced you or himself as in the vast coterie of all the other people here present with Terry still being as speechless as can be, trying not to show it, giving a million dollar act. Was he truly going to say nothing to you? Not even a common greeting? Nothing at all? Nothing came to mind? -"Oh, how cheeky!"- The woman next to him exclaims, and for fuck's sake, was he going to take that icicle of seemingly haughty, stoic indifference Terry was toting around and ram it in deep until it bleeds; twist it too, for good measure, until he snaps to his senses. John goes in for the jab. -"So, you tied the knot, did you?"- He asks, even though he knew the answer was negative. He did enough research by now. Terry knew him well enough to be well aware he wouldn't come here unprepared and the way he fidgets in his skin, jaw nearly bending forward in discomfort only proves as much. The woman next to him nearly erupts in laughter at the query. That funny, huh? Like it was the funniest prospect she's ever heard in her life. Your arm interlocked with John's only tightens, like a vice. -"Oh, no, me and Terrence aren’t married!"- Cheyenne throws her head back and for a brief second, John catches Terry's eyes grazing you, lingering there from the edge of his peripheral vision, there's the brilliant vestige of tears in the corner of your stare, firmly tucked away beneath your lashes. -"But, any friends of his are my friends."- She declares jubilantly. -"Margaritas?"- Before a yes or no answer could even properly be given, a uniformed server with a silver tray approaches you, offering you both wordlessly a drink, and going for fair play, John grabs himself a tall beverage, being a gentleman and handing you one too even though he was more of a Scotch or beer type of guy, not whatever green cooled off slop concoction this was, cooler perhaps being only Terry's gaze, watching you and watching him unblinking from across the array of decorative glasses while Cheyenne already disappeared from by his side, making herself busy schmoozing a guest not even two steps away.

None of them dare say a word to you.

Certainly not one of scorn, haughtiness, mockery or criticism.

John was certain that if they did, that he'd set the mansion on fire.

---

-"Why’d you bring her along? Why’d you dredge up the past?"-

The whole thing was tactically hurried; Terry practically ushering him up the second floor of the manor and towards a balcony fenced off transparent glass overlooking the lawn for some privacy. He knew he touched a nerve through the very fact they were in a secluded place, away from the crowd, having this conversation in the first place and that Terry was cutting right to the chance, his body language concealing nervousness, hands in his pockets, shoulders protruding forward defensively. The stance a prisoner of war has when he's being interrogating and trying to convince everyone he doesn't know anything when he clearly does. John speaks dryly. With all the seriousness in the world, keeping his eyes firmly planted on you down below, looking a bit lost but trying to make the best of it, chatting with a maid from across a table spread of elaborate salads. Probably the most preferable company at the whole party, for all intents and purposes. -"Because I believe in a little something called love. You should try it sometimes, Terrence."- John takes the figurative proverbial knife of mockery and digs it in deep and Terry's right there, receiving the blow and returning it in kind just like John knew he would. Terry wouldn't be Terry if he didn't. -"Rich, coming from you! Pushing me away as many times as you did. Disappearing! Wanting to stay gone. Insisting on it no matter how hard I tried. Now, you show up, jumping over the fence of my home, ammunition in hand."- His jaw tightens, hand gripping the edge of the balcony with whitened knuckles, his other free hand pointing vigorously. He was angry. Why, though? If he was quite so happy as he claimed to be? Nothing real could ever be damaged, no matter how much ammunition John brought to the fold. Terry's sudden onslaught of semi-suppressed anger is suddenly replaced by a deep exasperation once his gaze falls down on you; a figure against the green of his perfect lawn. Terry's hand anxiously runs through his loose hair. When did that happen by the way? Did he forget why he tied his hair back so many years ago in the first place? For who? -"Don’t even want to know how she jumped fence. Did you put her on your back or something!?"-

Avoidance.

Avoiding the topic at hand by focusing on random semantics.

Yeah, John put you on his back and climbed over the mansion walls.

What of it?

Would he prefer if he did things the way his new, so-called friends apparently tended to? Discussing on feeding the destitute with Kale over an App? Playing at acceptance and bleeding heart Liberal tolerance and then calling strangers inbred? Pretending that an old army friend was nobody of consequence and that what they've been through out there together, the type of thing someone would write a memoir about, was nothing special either? Would that be preferable?

-"It’s how I do things. You know me. Tough old spine."-

John shrugs and grins into his own chin, self-content.

Terry's weirdly harrowed reaction brought on a warm wave of relish.

He deserved to have the smug, distant aura of coldness wiped off from his face.

If only for a moment.

John steps closer as he spoke.

-"But, you should also know, there was only ever one woman for me, and I loved her all my life. There’s never been another one since."-

He shakes his head steadily, feeling his voice slide forth from the precipice of his mouth with so much firm, unyielding, silent conviction that he could've been easily giving the pledge of allegiance. There's been women in the physical sense. Just not in any that matters. Terry knew that. Terry tried to set him up with the occasional dime piece a million times throughout the years and while John used the opportunity, the epilogue of such acquittances ended the same way; by ending. John thought Terry needed a reminder of that too right before he'd get the bright idea of accusing him of being loveless. Of not knowing what love is. Wouldn't put it past him nowadays. -"I know everything there is to know about it."- John assesses. -"Think you do too, sweetheart."- He adds, semi-snarky, semi-sincere, watching something about Terry's eyes change. A distant shadow falling over them. The distant sunset overcast across the Pacific vista encasing the outline of his features in a hazy red overtone. The view looked like a million dollars from up here. Probably cost as much too. But, Terry wasn't even looking out towards the ocean. He looked down towards you instead --- all alone, walking out towards the row of palm trees separating his garden from his private beach, away from the company of guests engrossed in their mutual conversations. -"Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here having this conversation."- John states matter-of-factly, scrutinizing Terry's averted gaze, staring out into the distance. No, you'd be down there, with the broad you're flaunting and you'd never let her out of your sights, John thinks to himself. Not up here, discussing who's right or wrong with me. Suddenly, Terry's face erupts into anger. Figures. People tended to get mad when someone made them face the truth of things. It was usually their last refuge. -"You don’t have the right to meddle in my private life. The war’s over! This isn’t military hierarchy anymore! We're not out on the battlefield! You don’t know the first thing about me, John."- He seethes through gritted teeth, speaking in a partially hushed, venom-riddled tone as to not disrupt the party going on below. A party lacking its host up here doing cartwheels around sheer facts instead of going down there --- rushing down there, in fact --- grabbing you by the hand and never letting you go again before you get bored of being alone. Embarrassed at being forgotten and overlooked. And you'd decide to leave.

Not know the first thing about him?

Heck, he knew everything about him!

From when he got his last mandatory Malaria shot in the army stationed doctor's office back in the military and how his arm where the needle jab when through swell up for days because his skin was that sensitive to how they used to eat insects, worms and bugs to survive back in that cage in 'Nam. There was nobody who knew Terry like John --- except for you.

-"Sure do."-

John has to laugh.

Not know him? He knew Terry like his own fingers.

Like his own two hands.

Was time for some tough love on the matter.

-"I know Tofu Screw down there laughed at the prospect of being married to you to your face while you couldn’t get your eyes off another woman who looked like she was going to cry because of it."-

John decides to speak clearly, without murmuring it and for once, Terry seems to be rendered speechless, like he knew what he was hearing was legitimate and accurate, mouth agape right before he took to chewing his own lip in agitation, suddenly uneasy in his own skin. If he wanted to go to you, he should just go to you. Now. Right now. Drop this whole charade. Quite pretending he was something he wasn't. Stop neutering himself. Aim for what he really want it and hold unto it. Cease living a lie. Because of all this? It was all a lie. John knew as much and he knew Terry knew as much too. Was never about therapy. About that crap he inhaled into his nose. It was about passion. Terry being built from it. Every drop of blood in his veins singing out for it. He wasn't built for a half-assed existence. Neither of them were. You weren't either, that was for sure. The old wound was rendered open, bleeding inwardly and one last time, John decides to press his finger into it for good measure. -"Not quite the life you dreamed of, huh?"- He prods and Terry's face and eyes shoot up towards him, appearing haunted, like someone who's seen a ghost. At this point, you stood on the edge of his estate next to a wall of pale rocks on a sandy white dune, windswept against the swaying palm trees, quiet and dignified with your beverage in hand. You could've had your children's children with Terry by your side at this point, going for a coastline stroll at dusk. Funny how when you lose one battle, you tend to lose all of them and one domino collapsing leads to all of them following suit; he supposed that's why he took the tournament loss in 1985 as hard as he did even though Terry never quite understood his reasoning, but he came here today to fix that. Fix forty years of mistake making and put back everything in order. Starting with you. Starting with Terry. Because it was better late than never. Things were only ever truly lost when one gave up fighting and if John had to, he'd prefer going down while still wearing his boots. Remembering to blink, Terry practically spits his words. It was all a ploy, of course. A mask. A carefully curated facade. To conceal just how raw he was right now. John would let him have his coping mechanisms, for now, if that's what he needed. To bullshit and delude himself some more.

-"What'd you tell her to get her to agree to come out here?"-

Only the truth, John thought of himself, so help me God.

Terry's hand grabs the edge of his jacket, pulling him closer, squeezing the zipper.

Careful now, or his guests would find their host isn't quite as mindful as he touts himself.

That there was, perhaps, a bit of Cobra Kai still present inside of him.

That it never left. It was merely brumating.

Now rearing its head; waking up.

-"I told you that you never stopped loving her. Did I lie?"-

John drawls steadily and just like that, Terry's fingers let him go and before John can blink, he's already gone, long legs strutting and rushing down the foyer past a baffled member of staff, away from the balcony, practically rushing down the stairs, leaving John behind. Showtime, he thinks to himself, once Terry's voice, loud and abrupt, echoes across the foyer, reaching his ears like a brewing tempest. -"I’ll need the premises cleared out. Now! Show’s over!"- He shouts. John doesn't see it in action, but his senses sure enjoy the sound of complete and utter wrath shaking up the ground floor of the manor. He hears the grand main entrance down below practically swing open with a loud thud and he witnesses Terry, on the lawn, sauntering towards his own guest, hands open, ordering them out. No two ways around it. Baby, now we're talking. Oh, we're back in business, alright --- some pleased, content part of John's whispers in response. As if on cue, the so far unseen security detour scours the premises in black suits, ushering people out, one by one and all it took was one line on Terry's part. That's precisely the man John remembered. The man he called his friend. -"Everyone."- Terry assesses himself and the giggling woman from the newspaper jumps up from the wicker garden recliner, her mouth practically plopping open, Martini glass adorned with a garnish forgotten on a nearby table. -"What do you mean!?"- She practically squeaks, demanding answers in a shrill voice. John didn't blame her, but it was too damn pleasing to see, like scratching a long overdue itch. -"What about my promotion, Terrence!?"- Cheyenne's shock is palpable once one of the dozen bodyguards Terry had on stand placed his hand on her shoulder, ready to show her and her posse out. -"Promotion’s canceled."- Terry clarifies bluntly, offering no further explanations, cutting the cord without remorse. Back turned towards the balcony in his blue blazer, John doesn't see his expression, but he doesn't have to; it was the words he caught from upstairs that mattered. The fact your attention was caught by the ruckus was what mattered. Standing on the beach front, you turn your head to the commotion, slightly perplexed and frightened by all the noise, no doubt --- the sun was sinking into the ocean and the dimmed skyline behind you was nightfall purple, solar torches flickering alive all around the grounds like so many stars.

John was a good friend. Always. One way or another.

Even when his intent was immediately clearly understood.

He'd clear the terrain for you and Terry to be alone.

By any means necessary.

This was war.

The first among many battles.

And he's just won the chief one.

-"Sir, everyone's been told to evacuate the premises."-

One of the waiters fearfully approaches him; some boy in his late twenties by the looks of it, carrying a tray of something he entirely wouldn't mind having, for a change, considering the circumstances and the scene unfolding in front of him. A good Macallan in a massive crystal decanter. Not bad. Not bad at all. Finally --- a man's drink. Was time for a celebration. -"Nope. Don't think I will, kiddo."- John helps himself, grabbing a glass and the bottle at ease, pouring himself some much-deserve refreshments refreshments, turning towards the emptied out garden lawn, watching the dispossessed, struggling girlfriend get carted out and left at the car park, roaring engines hurriedly abandoning the lot, her ginger haired friend with the Habsburg jawline comment in tow. Emile, was it? Good riddance. Sometimes, someone's sole purpose in life was to serve as an example; the example here being, offensive words and shittalking don't come cheap and John Kreese always find a way to dish out payback. Often, much sooner than anyone would've hoped. Life comes at you fast. John brings the edge of the glass to his mouth, relishing the taste of things working out just the way he knew it would, observing Terry cleaning house, guiding the last of his guests out, towards the front gate. Was it tremendously ethical to have one woman moved out only for another one to immediately take her place? Absolutely not. John knew you'd have your reservations. That you'd pity those undeserving of pity because you were a fundamentally good person, just like his Betsy used to be. That you'd pity those who'd never pity you. Who'd barely show you a molecule of respect. That you'd fight against this, in your own way, citing ethics. Kindness. Honor. But, there was no ethics in warfare. Only winners and losers. And this victory belonged to you. To him. To Terry himself. To Cobra Kai. Whether you liked it or not. You'd learn to like it. He sighs, content, the heavy, hearty liquor taste burning his tongue as he addressed the baffled waiter eyeing him he had a pair of horns growing from his forehead. Hilarious. -"But I do think I'll have that drink now. Today deserves a toast."- Terry's form disappears somewhere in the shadow of his palm tree lot on the precipice of the beach where you stood just a moment ago and John knew then that he's done a good job. The rest of the battle was up to his Lieutenant.

John smiles against his hard liquor, enjoying the lays rays of the sunset's golden hour.

He nearly busted out laughing once a question came unbidden into his mind.

Who's gonna eat all that Tofu and vegetable screws now?

---

Desperation.

His heart is pounding like a drum when he finds you by the incoming tide, concealed by the shadow of an Acacia tree from the fallout of the evening, arms wrapped around your torso and he reaches out, on instinct, thirty years of yearning contained in a single touch. You seem like you were worried. Scared. A verge away from crying. Windswept by the salty gusts of air blown in from the coastline. He needs you. Needs you. Needs you so badly, he could imagine myself dying, combusting, if he didn't embrace you here and now, protecting you from everything and anything that surrounded you. Pulling you close to him. You nearly stutter when you see him walking into sight, leaving John in the manor and relying on his security to close the gates and show everyone out into the streets; he was certain half of The Valley would be talking about this by tomorrow but he could always use the excuse that he was an old man who needed his rest and that his guests --- well, they simply stayed longer than propriety allowed. Did it matter? Fuck them all. Fuck everything and everyone. He was happy. Feral. Crestfallen. So many years. So many. He wants to shout at the sky like a lost, howling dog. -"Terry, what's happening back there!? What are you doing here!?"- You ask in a hurry, confused, unsure if you should stay or leave, panic highlighting your voice and your eyes resembling a deer caught in the headlights of a moving car speeding your way. Leave? Not a chance. Not ever again. He'd burn the World down if you ever deprived him of your company for even but a moment. The palms of his hands encircle your face and before he knows it, his body is conjoined with yours with every atom of ache, nostalgia and heartache bleeding together and it feels like time is standing and rushing all at once, caught amidst his fingertips grazing your skin. You're cold.

He'll be your warmth.

Your friend, your confidante, your family, your lover.

He wants to know everything. Absolutely everything.

Every minute, every second of your life between now and 1985.

-"What I should've done thirty two years ago."-

Terry murmurs, kissing you with such a ferocity his yellow shades slide off the top of his head and into the sand under his feet.

Fuck's sake, he could weep.

#terry silver #john kreese #terry silver x reader #john kreese x reader #terry silver x beloved #john kreese x beloved #cheyenne hamidi #cobra kai #kk3 #old man terry #tw; immense amounts of meddling #tw; blast from the past #cobra husbands

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ficthots · 2 years

Text

Enamored

A/N: Here's a Peter fic. I can't believe I am releasing two full fics in the same night. Who am I? As always let me know what you guys think and enjoy!

Warnings: SMUT. DNI if you are under 18. 18+ only.

Word Count: 8.1k+

Doing favors for friends seems to be a fairly standard social normality. Of course there are differentiating factors that determine exactly what kind of favor they may deserve based on what they are asking of their friends. There are people who are far more giving than others and will bend with ease at the drop of a hat to help those that ask. The other version is the immediate response of no and eventually they stop being asked all together.

You were a happy medium between the two. Willing to help a not so favorable coworker if you see something they’re holding is about to fall to the floor, but then going above and beyond for your best friends when asked to bring a purse for them to borrow, showering them in every option you had.

That was how you found yourself dressed up as Dasher the reindeer for your company’s Christmas party. One of your closest allies at work had been asked to act as Santa Clause this year and given he is up for quite a promotion, quickly accepted. The week before the event he appeared at your apartment door, frazzled and nervous about having to dress up as the holiday icon in front of all of your coworkers.

Despite every attempt to get him to calm down, nothing was working. Instead, you rallied up a small group of your favorite colleagues and convinced everyone to dress up as his reindeer. To make him feel more comfortable, of course.

You and Trisha stood in front of the bathroom mirror at the event, hurrying to complete the makeup look that was going to accompany the full bodysuit costume you were wearing. The bathroom door burst open and in walked Lucas, dressed exactly as Kris Kringle, forcing you to suppress any laughter at the sight before you.

“I look like a fucking moron,” he whined, pulling the beard down and showcasing the irritated skin that sat beneath the scratchy material. You shook your head at his words, head tilting to fully admire the getup. “You look fantastic. That promotion is yours,” you snickered at Trish’s words, but he flicked your forehead, sticking his tongue out at you.

As you went to retaliate, the restroom door flung open once again, revealing another reindeer, beckoning everyone out to the main ballroom. When the doors opened and you all walked in, you were met with applause as you led Santa out to his chair where he would be spending the remainder of his evening.

After a warm welcome, you knew it was time to get a buzz on in order to get through the party. It was always a sight to see who would end up in the utility closet together at the company Christmas party, leading to another year of awkward elevator rides and uncomfortable meetings where they couldn’t look each other in the eye.

Fixing your falling reindeer antler headband for what felt like the millionth time that night, Trish stood leaning against a cocktail table with you. You two giggled and pointed out couples, placing bets to see who would sneak off first.

Small appetizers made their way around the room and you grabbed as many as you could as they came. The crowd had grown unbelievably dense within the last hour of the party, music playing to which the next step of a lustful evening was taken by said couples, writhing against one another as their colleagues looked on in pure amusement.

“I’m running to the bathroom!” You shouted as you downed your champagne glass, pushing off the table to head in the direction of the restroom. Trying to maneuver through people to get to your destination was proving difficult, being tossed around like a damn rag doll in the process.

You didn’t think twice as you felt fingers land on your shoulder, tapping you roughly. When it happened again, you turned as his voice yelled out over the group surrounding you. “Excuse me! Are these your antlers? They fell,” your mouth went dry at the handsome stranger standing directly in front of you.

When his eyes slowly met yours, his facial expression froze to one of shock as he took you in. Immediately feeling embarrassment course through you at how silly you must look to this gorgeous man, you began blabbering as you took the headband from his grasp.

“Oh, thank you! These stupid things have been falling all night. They’re kid sizes so they’re a bit small meaning they won’t stay in place and have given me quite the headache. We did this as a pick me up for our friend who’s playing Santa tonight and it seems to be a hit, I just hope I’m not stuck doing this every single year now.” When you caught your breath, eyes looking back to him to see his reaction hadn’t changed in the slightest, you felt even more humiliated and decided to take it as your out.

“Anyways, thank you, again. Have a good night. Merry Christmas,” you turned your back, rushing to get away from the most awkward experience of the night, practically running out of the ball room, leaving the beautiful stranger behind.

You stopped in your tracks though, feeling bad for having said Merry Christmas, not knowing if that was even his denomination. “Sorry, Happy Holidays. Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, whatever you celebrate. Not to say you can’t or don’t celebrate Christmas, but yeah, why am I still talking?” You mumbled out the last bit, turning on your heel and continuing out of the room with your face positively burning right off.

He was kicking himself. Actually, trying to beat the ever loving shit out of himself. When he bent down to pick up the antlers he didn’t know what happened, but when she turned and looked at him, at him, it was like the world had stopped.

Almost as if he had been blessed to stop time to just capture her face just for himself and being the only person lucky enough to hear her speak. To him.

And he fucking blew it.

Unable to string two syllables together to give her a coherent response. Hell, even one would have sufficed better than just staring at her like a fish out of water. He had never hated himself more than he did at that moment.

She looked at him like he was the weirdest thing she had ever seen before and he more than likely was. The poor girl turned and ran from him because she was so weirded out. What the hell was wrong with him?

His eyes followed her the rest of the night, to no fault of his own. He planned to go back over to her before the party was going to end, make an attempt to try to fix what he had blundered so badly before, but within a singular blink of his eyes the evening had come to a close.

He had no idea how time had passed so quickly. Watching her from afar as her head tipped back, mouth opening just wide enough for a loud laugh to bubble out and greet the air around her. Lips landing on the edge of her champagne glass as she sipped the contents, eyes sparkling in pure enjoyment at the festivities happening. He found himself smiling with her despite being across the room, having no idea what was causing that to happen, but it didn’t matter because he was getting to witness it.

Peter had never seen anyone so magnificent. He had to know her.

He didn’t even work for this company. No, he had tagged along with one of his friends who didn’t want to attend alone, not expecting this to be a particularly memorable evening apart from free food and drinks. Not expecting the entire course of his life to shift within a four hour span of time.

As she walked out of the ballroom with her small posse, Santa tagging along behind her, a sense of panic washed over him. He didn’t get to ask her name. He didn’t get to speak to her again. She was getting away.

Looking around for his friend, he spotted him saying goodnight to some of his coworkers, catching Peter’s eyes as he waved him over to where he stood rooted to his spot.

They left the party together, heading back towards their apartments for the night, but Peter caught sight of her, beginning to gently nudge his friend as his eyes refused to leave her figure.

She was standing on the curb, hand grabbing onto Santa’s arm as she cackled out into the night, a cloud of white appearing in front of her mouth at the expelling of air. He found himself jealous of the man in the costume, being able to feel the heat of her skin against his own.

“Do you know who that is?” His friend's neck craned to see who he was looking at, not near the height of his counterpart. His brow furrowed as he looked at her for a split second before looking away.

“The reindeer? No clue. You want to go get dinner? I thought they were going to have-“ his words became muffled in his ear, attention span going out as he spoke.

How was he able to look away from her? No matter what Peter tried, it didn’t matter, because he couldn’t look away from her. His friend was able to avert his eyes so easily. How? She was like a magnet, drawing him towards her and no matter what he did, he could not get his attention off of her. She was a force.

Peter reluctantly left in the opposite direction of her that night. When he laid in his bed, unable to think of anything other than her, he wanted nothing more than to see her again. As his eyes closed, her face would be behind his lids, greeting him with a large smile meant only for him.

It would be weeks until he saw her again. That same friend had told Peter that he wanted to meet him for lunch that afternoon, but to go into his office while he waited for a meeting to finish up.

Thinking nothing more, his thoughts of her dwindling daily until he only thought about her once or twice a day. He rode the elevator to his friend's floor, but felt his eyes bug out as the lift came to a stop on a floor fifteen levels below where he needed to go.

She was back. Stepping into the elevator with him, arms overloaded with papers, eyes glued to a phone screen. “Sixty-eight please,” she mumbled out to him. He couldn’t move. He was rooted to his spot, eyes stuck to the side of her face. A new angle he hadn’t seen before that was somehow even better than the others.

Her eyes looked at him when she realized he wasn’t going to hit her floor. Her face immediately grew to one of shock when it dawned on her who was in the lift with her. She moved to push the button for her floor and shifted the stack of papers awkwardly in her arms as she faced forward, trying not to make this any weirder.

“I remember you from the Christmas party,” she spoke out after a beat, unable to take the silence. “I was the reindeer. You handed me my antlers. I swear I’m not that weird in real life, dressing like that I mean or maybe I am and just don’t realize it.”

He couldn’t speak, tongue unable to move as she fidgeted to the side of him. It was like he had fallen under a trance as he looked at her. He didn’t know what to do.

Ding

As the doors slid open to her floor she shot him a small smile and a wave as she stepped out. “Okay, have a good one.” The doors closed behind her and he wanted to scream.

He fucked it up. Again.

His eyes closed, hands landing on his face, and rubbing harshly at the irritation coursing through him. The smell of her perfume lasted long after she had gotten off, the sweet coffee and vanilla hints lingering to remind him about what he had missed.

When he got to his friend's office, he sat down at his desk, trying to create some semblance of a plan to actually speak to her, but whenever he tried, it was like he was under a spell.

He didn’t even know her name. That could change though.

His friend entered the room and greeted him with a tired sigh, a crack of his neck, and a furrowed brow as he took in his friend's disheveled appearance. “What’s going on with you?”

Peter shook him off, asking him what he wanted for lunch, but quickly created a plan in his head. If he wanted to do this he needed to be careful, not wanting to be obvious about his intentions.

The two sat at lunch and as Peter took a bite of his burger, he changed the topic of conversation to match what he wanted to talk about. “Hey, I meant to ask you, who played Santa at your Christmas party?”

His friend bit into a fry, leaning back in his chair as he thought about his response. “I believe his name is Lucas Dawson. Just got a big promotion to assistant manager for his department. Why?” Peter shrugged, rubbing his jaw to make it seem like what he was saying was believable.

“No, I just thought I knew him from somewhere is all.” His friend nodded, taking another bite and steering the conversation back to whatever sports game he had watched earlier that week.

Success.

It was two weeks later when Peter found himself standing outside of the building waiting for Lucas to appear. He checked his watch, thumbs drumming on his thighs with nerves as his eyes scouted the crowds around him.

The bleach blond hair quickly moved from the glass doors and Peter noticed his gaze was downwards at his phone. Perfect.

Peter walked in his direction, bumping into him and sending his notebook tumbling down in front of him. Lucas uttered a quick apology and Peter’s smile grew as he began his act.

“Oh my god. Lucas!” His eyes went wide and then narrow, very obviously trying to place where he knew him from. He didn’t know him. “It’s me, Peter! How are you doing, man?” Lucas offered a smile in return, playing along.

“Peter! I’m good! How are you?” Peter’s grin grew as he continued on. “I’m doing real good, man. Hey! Are you still in touch with, oh gosh, what’s her name?” Peter offered a description of you, snapping his fingers in faux confusion as he tried to gain insight to you.

When Lucas said your name, it was like Peter had won the fucking lottery. “Yes! We work together. Right there actually!” Lucas pointed at the building and Peter’s hands landed on his hips, shaking his head.

“Wow, that’s amazing. Crazy world we live in, huh? Well, I don’t want to keep you, it was so good seeing you. Have a good one, man!” Lucas said the same back and continued on in the opposite direction of Peter.

That name. It replayed over and over in his head. It was your name. Of course it was, he thought to himself. It suited you so well. It was a beautiful name. The first time it fell from his lips, his eyes shut with a smile, pure happiness coursing through him.

He didn’t see you for awhile after that, opting to keep his distance. His alter ego though was a different being. Peter found himself dressed in his garb, watching you leave the building one night, far too late to be walking by yourself.

This was his chance.

Peter landed behind you without a sound, mustering up the courage to speak to you. “Excuse me, miss?” You jumped as you turned, eyes about falling out of your head at the sight before you.

That was fucking Spider-Man.

You offered a meek wave as you looked around to see if anyone else was seeing this. The street was almost deserted at this late hour, those that were on it too entranced in their own worlds to realize who was standing here.

“It’s a bit late for a young lady to be walking home. Can I offer an escort?” Your jaw opened and closed, trying to formulate a response to the figure. You cleared your throat and nodded quickly.

“Yeah-yes, please, that would be great.” He nodded, moving to fall in step next to you. You had no idea what to say to him as you began walking. What the hell were you supposed to say to a superhero?

“So what is a pretty girl like you doing walking alone late at night?” Spider-Man just called you pretty. Spider-Man just called you pretty.

You gave a slightly annoyed laugh to that question before following with an irritated sigh, shaking your head like you were trying to remove bad thoughts from your head. “Just working late.”

He laughed, tsking you as he nudged you with an encouraging shove. “I’m working on this group project thing right now, but I seem to be the only one actually working on it. That means that I’m stuck at work late doing it.” He nodded thoughtfully before jumping in front of you, starting to walk backwards.

Given you couldn’t see his face and its expressions, he mainly talked with his hands, using them as his way of expression instead. “Now, see I work late. That’s kind of my whole thing. But I choose to work late. Kind of. I mean crime never sleeps and it seems to really ramp up at night so that’s when I’m needed most. So, I guess I don’t really get to pick my hours.”

You were trying to stifle laughter at his random tangent he had gotten off on, but your hands went out to grab him, trying to move him so he wouldn’t hit the lamppost he was heading straight for, but he dodged it before you could get to him.

“How did you do that?” You asked shocked, pointing at the post as you walked by it in awe. Spider-Man shrugged and leaned his head towards you, offering a view of the back of his head. “Eyes in the back of my head.” You couldn't see it, but for some reason you felt him wink at you.

You felt absolutely bonkers saying that because of course he hadn’t, but there was a feeling nestled deep in your stomach that he had. Whether you could prove it or not. He was friendlier than you had expected.

He kept a constant conversation going with you, tossing jokes back and forth like old friends, never letting the chatter dull. He had you feeling like your stomach was going to burst at the seams from laughing so hard at his absurd conversation topics.

When your building came into view you stopped and sighed, wiping at your eyes, gathering the tears that had been falling from the story he had shared with you about a small child needing to be swung home for fear of having an accident and ended up going. All over him.

“Thank you for walking me home Spider-Man.” He waved his hand in front of you, over exaggerating his shrug as he did. “Ah, don’t mention it. Just your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man offering his assistance to those in need.” You giggled at that and nodded, eyes falling to your shoes.

“Well, I’m more than likely going to be working late for the next week or so and would love to take the walk with you. You know, to keep me safe and all.” He nodded, bringing his hand up to stroke his chin in thought.

“I think I can make that happen. Same spot and time tomorrow?” You nodded, a smile growing as you did. You waved goodnight, crossing the street and entering your building.

Peter wanted to jump for joy. He had talked to you. Without sounding like a buffoon. And you talked with him. Laughed with him. Enjoyed spending time with him. So much so you wanted to do it again tomorrow. And for the rest of the week.

He couldn’t help himself, he did a small jump, tapping his heels together as he did. He swung off into the night, excitement pouring from him about getting to see you again tomorrow.

And he did. For the next few weeks he did.

Peter-Spider-Man, would meet you outside your office building and would take the long walk back to your apartment building with you. As each night progressed, you two would intentionally walk slower to spend more time together.

He memorized every aspect of you he could. He was mesmerized by you. By your entire being. It was like a gravitational pull that he couldn't fight no matter what he did. But he didn’t want to. No, quite the opposite. He wanted to fall into it. To be completely absorbed into your wavelength.

Your hands nervously played with the pair of mittens in your hands as you turned to face the masked man, gnawing on your lip as you waited for him to finish talking. He didn’t finish in time so you blurted it out instead.

“I haven’t had to work late this past week.” He stopped his motions, head tilting to show confusion, something he did often when he knew you couldn’t read his facial expressions. “I-I just wanted you to walk me home.”

He could see how nervous you were to tell him that. That it took all the courage you had, that you couldn’t hold onto the information anymore, yelling it out over his words to be heard. It was adorable.

“You could’ve asked me.” His hand went behind his back, although you couldn’t see his smile you could hear it in his words. Your head fell down, embarrassed as his gaze fell over you, unable to hold eye contact anymore.

“No, I know, but-” you shook your head, looking everywhere but at him, “I’m just not good at this stuff.” You face felt like it was going to melt off at the admission you had just spoken out, regretting your outfit choice of the day, wanting nothing more than to take off this stupid oversized coat.

He chuckled at you. This was surely the cutest thing he had ever seen before. It was heartwarming to see how flustered you were getting by trying to talk to him. Your hands continued to wring the gloves and he knew there was more you were wanting to ask him.

As he went to ask you what else there was, you spoke out over him again. “Do you want to come hang out at my place? Just for a bit?” You were moving between leaning on both of your legs, shifting weight constantly. Your knuckles were white from the grip you had on the fabric in your palms. He was worried you were going to tear the skin off your lip from how deep your teeth were sunk into it.

He knew he should’ve said no. This wasn’t going to end well. He knew it wasn’t going to end well, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. It was you. He wanted to spend as much time with you as physically possible.

This was his chance. Dressed as Spider-Man nonetheless, but it was still an opportunity to get to know you just a little bit better. A little bit more.

He said yes. Your mouth lightly hung ajar at his response, not expecting him to agree to it despite how badly you wanted it. Scolding yourself to not get your hopes up to only be let down, but this was better.

When you touched him, he wanted to pass out from the adrenaline rush that surged through his skin at the minimal contact. Your hand had enclosed around his wrist, dragging him across the street to your building as you practically skipped towards the front door.

He shook his head, stopping dead in his tracks when he realized you wanted him to go through the front entrance with him. Your name fell from his lips in a hushed whisper and when you turned to face him, eyes bright and excited that he was going to spend some time with you, he grabbed your hand and pulled you to the alley that was adjacent to your building, into the shadows where he lived.

“I can’t go in through the front door.” He watched your expression morph into one of realization and shape into disappointment at what you thought he was saying. He was quick to correct your train of thought. “When you get to your apartment, open the window for me and I’ll come in that way.”

Your dazzling smile returned, setting his chest alight with fireworks. Nodding enthusiastically at his words, you pointed to a window with a fire escape directly below it. “That one’s mine. I’ll be up in a minute.”

Turning quickly and rushing inside, your stomach was flipping with every move you made. Attempting to act nonchalant to the doorman, not wanting to let on that someone, particularly Spider-Man, was going to be sitting at your window. Waiting. For you.

When you shut your apartment door behind you, you quickly shrugged out of your coat, discarding your shoes haphazardly by the entryway before making your way to your bedroom. Your heart slightly fell when you noticed he wasn’t sitting there at the window waiting, but when you slid it upwards, his mask popped down, eyes level with your chin as he hung upside down.

Giggles flew from you as you backed away, watching as he crawled in through the window, moving to your ceiling to scope out the room as he landed on the floor in front of you. “Beautiful place. I particularly like your Peppa Pig figurines on your dresser.”

Your cheeks burned at his words, eyes scanning what he was talking about as laughter escaped him. “It’s an inside joke with my family. My twenty-first birthday was Peppa themed.” His head nodded at your words, following behind you as you made your way to the living room, watching him as he waltzed around your space, taking in all of your personal touches to the room.

A warm mug sat in your hands, another placed on the coffee table waiting for him to sit with you as he continued to silently observe your space. Admiring the photos that decorated the space, trinkets on every square inch of flat surface, organized clutter. It screamed you.

He loved it.

When he plopped down onto the seat next to you, your smirk grew, pointing to the cup. “I made you some hot chocolate. I know you can’t take your mask off in front of me so I will gladly turn my back to the other side of the room so you can enjoy it.”

Not waiting for a response, you shifted on the couch, legs crossed on the cushion, facing the entryway to give him some privacy. A small glint of happiness shot through you as you heard him sipping the warm liquid.

“That is delicious. You could get a job making hot chocolate for a living. I bet you would have a tenured position at the North Pole.” Your head fell back as you laughed, sipping your own drink again after. “Why thank you. It’s a special family recipe.”

He hummed at your response. Peter wanted nothing more than for you to turn around and see him. To talk to him, not Spider-Man. To know that you and Peter got along so well. Spider-Man had nothing to do with it. Acting only as a safety blanket for himself.

You and Peter sat like that for a couple hours that night. Laughing, swapping stories, and when you moved to grab the empty mug to place it in the dishwasher, you noticed his mask was back on. You felt a slight twinge of disappointment wrack you, but you shook it off. You would take what you could get.

Spider-Man was your house guest for two more weeks after that night. He would crawl in your window, you would make you both some sort of beverage, and you would sit and chat for hours until you absolutely had to get into bed and he would have to leave.

Then it all changed.

It was like any other night, sitting in the living room with him, just enjoying his presence, but when you went to grab his cup to take it to the kitchen, you noticed his mask hadn’t been fully placed back down.

Instead, from the nose down you could see the creaminess of his skin, the plump plushness of his lips, the sharp jawline that could cut glass that was freshly shaven, not a lick of stubble. It made your mouth go dry, freezing in your spot, not sure what to do.

This was the most he had ever offered you and it had you shaking. “Spidey?” You spoke out in a breathless whisper, watching as his hand moved to your wrist, urging you to place the cups back down and instead come to him.

You went without fight, sitting down next to him unbelievably close, practically in his lap, the webbing on his suit pressing into the skin where his gloved hands held yours. “Is this okay?” He asked, hand moving to cradle your jaw.

Unable to respond without anything more than a head nod, you watched, eyes focused on what you could see of him, moving to you to capture your lips against his own.

It was like reaching nirvana.

Feeling the soft skin connect with yours in such an intimate way, breathing him into your senses, letting him wash over you in a tidal wave of joy. He didn’t move to take more from you, letting you do as you wanted, not pressuring you to move further along, simply savoring what you were offering.

When he felt the tip of your tongue brush against his lower lip, he greedily accepted, relief pounding him that you wanted this just as much as him. His hands moved from your face to your waist, encircling around you and moving you to straddle him.

Landing a leg on either side of his form you smiled into the kiss, feeling him mimic your move.

You pulled back as his hand moved up your back, trying to feel any part of you he could. “I’ll be right back,” you whispered, moving off of him in a hurry, and towards the hallway.

Switching all of the lights off, you made your way back to him in the pitch black apartment. He was confused, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness quickly to see where you were.

“I can’t see a thing,” you giggled out, hands blindly reaching in front of you to find him. His hand grabbed yours as you did, lightly dragging you to him. He stood, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as he did.

You lightly pecked his still exposed lips. “You can take the mask off,” he froze in his spot. He was unsure if he should do it. He wanted to. God did he want to.

Walking backwards, slowly moving him with you towards your room, your shaky hands slowly moved up towards his mask. He didn’t fight you, knowing you couldn’t see him.

Removing it from him completely, you giggled, hands moving towards his face to cup his jaw. Your hands traced his facial features, trying to place a face in your mind simply by feel. Wanting to know what he looked like.

Hands skirting through his locks, he couldn’t fight the smile that grew as he felt your movements. Your fingertips moved down the slope of his nose, feeling the smooth skin between his brows, how long his eyelashes were.

“You’re beautiful,” you whispered out. He chuckled at your words, hands moving to land under your thighs, subtly telling you to jump. You did as he asked, legs wrapping around his waist as you did.

He murmured a quick thank you, capturing your lips against his once again. Needing, craving, desperate to feel your lips against his again. It was a messy meeting this time, not as gentle as the first kiss you had shared that night.

Mumbling against his lips and removing your hands from his silky locks, you pointed behind you. “Room is over there,” he nodded, not letting your lips leave his as you spoke.

Spider-Man moved you both towards the bedroom, hurrying his movements as he did. He was effortless in his movements, this being not even remotely strenuous for him, but he found himself breathing heavily, almost panting as he did.

He was nerve wracked, excitement pummeling him at what was happening between you both. He was feeling you against him. Against his actual skin. Not against the suit. It was euphoric.

As he laid you on the bed, he wished he could witness what you truly looked like in the moment, not shrouded in darkness. He would take what he could get.

Giggles fell from you as you pulled back from him, hands moving along the suit. “I’m not sure how to take this off,” his laughter mixed with yours, standing up from the bed and peeling the suit off in quick motions as you did yourself.

The laughter fell off between you two as he came back to you, feeling the bare skin on your rib cage, bra still on. His thumb brushed along the underside of the wire, watching as you shivered under his touch. Feeling how your skin erupted in goosebumps.

He knelt down, lips landing where his fingers had been. Lips moving across your ribs, over your torso, landing underneath your breast as he removed your bra.

Your breathing was short and stuttered as you felt him move across you. Fingers lacing in his hair, eyes slipping shut, wanting to savor this in your memory.

His tongue flattened against your peeked nipple, eliciting a shudder from you, a small gasp following as he enclosed his warm mouth around the bud. Your back arched off the bed and into his grasp as his other hand made steady work of your other perked nipple.

Groaning as you lightly tugged on his hair, placing chaste kisses along your sternum, on the supple flesh of your stomach, to the top of your mound. He watched as your stomach caved in, feeling his warm breath fan across your core.

Your panties were soaked through, a small wet spot decorated the outside, his fingers could feel it as his fingertips traced the mark. Sighing at the motion, he smiled, and although you couldn’t see it, he knew you could feel it.

Removing your panties, he tossed them onto the floor by where his suit laid, breathing in your decadent scent. The tip of his nose brushed along your lips, your head falling back as he did.

“Spidey, please,” your voice was low and choked out, trying to administer to him how badly you needed him. He nodded his head, a kiss landing on the inside of your thigh. “I know,” he didn’t hesitate anymore, burying himself in between your legs.

He ate you like he was a starving man and it was his last meal. The moans coming from you spurred him on, letting him ground his hips into the mattress, aching for some, any, release. When he slipped two fingers into you, you collapsed into a mumbling mess as you reached your high.

Eyes squeezed shut as tightly as they would go, mouth hanging open, overstimulated clit still sucked in between his teeth, fingers still pumping you. Your mind went blank, only able to focus on the pure heaven that encompassed you.

You couldn’t wait much longer, flipping you both to have him lay on his back. He was shocked at the movement, not expecting that at all. You handed him a condom from your nightstand, watching him open it with shaky hands, rolling it over his aching cock.

The head was weeping pre-cum, swollen and glistening a bright red. When you grabbed him, lining him up with your entrance, he held his breath.

His head rolled back onto the pillow, eyes slipping shut with a groan as he sank into your heat. You accepted him inch by inch, whimpers fluttering from you as you did. Not waiting to adjust to him, you started your motions right away, desperate to feel him pulse against your walls.

Spidey held onto your hips with an unbreakable force, slamming his hips up to meet yours, chasing his high as you milked him, feeling your own impending release quickly approaching.

He bent you over, meeting your lips together as one of his thumbs moved from your hip, pushing onto your clit and tracing slow and deep circles as he did. You gasped into his mouth, letting his teeth grasp onto your bottom lip as you did.

As another finish washed over you, Spidey fell into his first. He groaned, arms tightening around you as he did. You two fought for breath as you came down, bodies glistening as you did.

Your hand cradled his face as your breathing evened out, letting him gently guide you back to his lips for a quick kiss. He rested his forehead against yours for a fleeting moment before he did what neither of you wanted to happen.

“I have to go.” You nodded at his words, knowing he had to. Of course he did. But you hoped that he would come back. That he would be back for you.

When Spider-Man escaped from your window that night, you didn’t know what the next week would encompass. Would he still be there to walk you home? Would things stay like they were or was that evening you two had spent tangled in one another the turning point to veer off in a different direction?

These questions pummeled you the entire weekend and as you stood outside of your office building waiting for the garb to enter your vision, your hope was quickly diminishing.

Until you felt a tap on your shoulder.

The guy from the Christmas party was standing there, hands shoved in his pockets, eyes excited as he peered down at you. You gave a tight lipped smile at him, “Hi.” You watched him as he was quite obviously trying to figure out what to say to you.

“It’s you!” Your brows drew together in confusion as you looked at him and shook your head. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I know you.” His mouth slightly fell open as it smacked him across the face. She had no idea who he was. “Oh fuck,” he rubbed his jaw as you gave an uneasy smile to him, a small laugh following. His head tilted as he tried to figure out what direction he needed to take this, but he was falling apart quickly. He had to think fast.

“You work here.” He followed with your name, watching as your eyes slightly widened, concern taking over the confusion. “Uh, yeah, how do you know that?” Your eyes narrowed, uncomfortable with this strange man knowing this information about you.

“Lucas told me,” was his response. Your head fell to the side, shifting from one foot to the other. “You asked my coworker about me?” His eyes went even wider as he heard how that sounded, shaking his head frantically.

“Yes, but not in a weird way!” You nodded, slowly moving away from him, offering a small wave as you did. “I’m going to go now.” He nodded his head, eyes downcast to his shoes, hands on his hips.

“Good idea. Bye,” your name tumbled from your lips again as you turned on your heel and walked away from him.

Zero for three as Peter.

Spider-Man didn’t come back for the next few nights, your sadness evident at that. You didn’t realize that taking your relationship to the next step with him was going to mean that you would lose his friendship, too. He had been in your life for months now and losing him made your soul ache.

Until that fateful night when he stood waiting outside your work building for you. Your smile didn’t grow as you saw him, instead walking the opposite direction from where he was standing. Your name echoed out into the night as he lightly jogged to catch up to you.

You didn’t stop, but when he jumped in front of you, seeing the angry look painted on your face he knew he was in trouble. “Look, I know you’re upset, but I was gone for a few nights and I am so sorry about that. I sent a replacement to walk you home!”

Not responding to that, his head fell, scratching the back of his neck as it did. “I really am sorry.” You sighed, lightly nibbling on your lip as you answered. “Why would you do that and then not come back to see me? If it didn’t mean anything to you then that’s fine, but at least tell me. Made me feel like shit, Spidey,” his hands moved to cradle your jaw, cheeks lightly pushing together as he did.

“I know and I am so sorry, but it meant the world to me. You have no idea how much it meant to me. I was scared to come back around afterwards because I was petrified I fucked this up,” you nodded your head at his words, seeing him push his mask up to land directly below his nose, colliding your lips in a needy and enthusiastic kiss.

When you pulled back, you eyed him and mumbled out to him. “Who did you send to walk me home?” You watched his lips quirk up in a smile, basically stilling your heart beat at the sight. “A good friend of mine, Peter. Sorry if he freaked you out.” You nodded at his words.

“Yeah, it seemed like I had a bit of a stalker.” He wrapped his arm around your shoulders, turning you towards the direction of your apartment as you both laughed. “Oh, Peter? No, he’s harmless. Fantastic guy really,” you looked up at him, hand laced with the one that sat hanging over your shoulder, giggles falling from you.

“Is that so? I don’t know, he seemed a little off to me.” He exhaled a large breath at your wods. “Psh! Peter? No, he’s the best guy. In fact, I wouldn’t be who I am without him.” Your eyebrows raised as you two strolled along the empty street. “Wow, that’s pretty amazing.”

He continued on, his tone light with joking. “He is! One time he saved a baby from a burning building. He held up a bridge from collapsing with his bare hands. I mean I could go on and on,” you stopped your movements, pulling away from him as you did.

“How long have you been Spider-Man, Peter?” His head turned to you, a sigh falling from him as he did. Your hand went to the mask where you knew it connected to the suit, pulling it off and being met with the handsome stranger .

Except he wasn’t a stranger at all. The complete opposite really. He had gotten to know you in the most intimate ways a person can learn about a new individual. He knew about your family, what made up the components of your personality, and what made you twist in pleasure from the simple movements from his skilled hands. He knew you.

And you knew him. More than he realized because after that stranger turned up to walk you home that night earlier in the week, you knew who it was immediately. It was Spider-Man.

“A long time.” Was his response to your question that earned a nod in response. Your arms crossed over your chest, mask dangling from your fingertips as his eyes pierced into yours. “Why wouldn’t you just tell me, Peter?” You couldn’t fight the smile that was pulling at your lips.

You giggled, watching his overactive motions still continue even after the mask had been removed, knowing this was just how he was. His gloved hand ran through the messy locks sitting atop his head as his wide and wild eyes fell to your. “Oh, babe you have no idea how badly I wanted to, but there’s,” his head tilted as he looked over you, listening in utter amusement at his words, “something truly hypnotizing about you.”

Your brows drew together in confusion, obviously never having heard that before. “When I saw you for the first time when I handed those antlers back to you, it was like I had been run over by a truck. I had never seen someone as beautiful and riveting as you. I could not get one coherent thought to form in my head.” Your face was burning with embarrassment at his words, not believing what he was spewing to you.

“And then I saw you in the elevator. It was a second chance, but it happened again!” His laughter mixed with his words as he tried to explain this bizarre situation to you. “You put me in some sort of trance because no matter what I tried to say it just would not come out.” He took a deep breath, wrestling with his thoughts if he should confess this next part to you, ultimately deciding he should.

“I thought about you every single day from that Christmas party. You took up every thought I had. I tricked Lucas into telling me your name because I just had to know you. Then the opportunity presented itself that night when I was doing my rounds as Spider-Man and I took it because I had to. It’s you.” You felt tears welling in your eyes at his words, lightly sniffling as his hands took yours in his own, gently squeezing.

“There just wasn’t a time to tell you who I really am. My job is not the safest in the world and you knowing who I am is not entirely safe for you either. I don’t regret it though because it did allow me to get to know you. I just, I don’t know what it is about you, but I am enthralled by you. I want to get to know every little thing there is to know about you.”

When he finished his speech he was panting, words tumbling faster and faster as he continued. Your eyes fell downcast, fingers tracing the detailed webbing of his suit as you sniffled again, trying to will the tears away.

“No one has ever said anything like that about me before.” You shook your head as you said that, a light laugh following. You cleared your throat, standing up straight and seeing his adoring look fall onto yours.

He was worried. Worried that you wouldn’t feel comfortable enough around him after the trickery he had done to keep him around anymore. He wouldn’t entirely blame you if you did choose to stop speaking with him. But he wanted it so badly. Wanted you so badly.

“Do you want to come back to my apartment, Peter? I would like to get to know Peter better. I feel like I know Spidey pretty well, but Peter is a sort of enigma.” His heart leapt into his throat, tongue unable to formulate any words, simply nodding in response.

Your laughter flittered into the air around you both, grabbing Peter’s hand and escorting him down the street to where your apartment building sat, but he stopped you, pulling you into his embrace as he did.

His arms wrapped around you, crushing you to his chest, lips capturing yours as he knelt down to greet you in a warm meeting. Your hands laid flat on his chest, urgently meeting his desperation for one another. When he pulled back his forehead rested against yours and he smiled.

“How about you come see where Peter Parker lives, yeah?” You eagerly nodded your head, eyes going large in excitement. He turned in your grip, kneeling down in front of you as he did. “It’s quite a far walk from him. Pretty fast swing though.” You squealed, laughter mingling together as you jumped on his back.

You placed a chaste kiss on his cheek, arms wrapped around his neck as you began to place his mask back on. “Take me away, Peter.”

He decided right then and there that he would never tire of hearing his name fall from your lips for as long as he lived. You couldn’t wait to see what this handsome stranger had in store for you.

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reyggtv · 7 days

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There's only so much I can say on Twitter to truly express my feelings about the show Hilda, and how much of an impact it has left on me to make me the kind of person I am today, so I'm taking to Tumblr to write all about it.

If you don't know who I am already, hi, I am ReyGGTV, though you can just call me Rey. I like to make YouTube videos, memes, talk with other Hilda fans, and make occasionally make art. You may already know me from the Hilda Crack videos I made since several years ago, as well as some more recent big videos of mine like my comparison video between Aster and Hilda. I am 20 years old, and have been a diehard fan of the franchise ever since I was just 14.

Firstly, let's discuss how I actually managed to discover Hilda in the first place. It was 2018, freshman year of high school had just started, during this time, I was still big fan of another animated TV show at the time called Star vs. The Forces of Evil. I was a fan of that show ever since its premiere in January of 2015 when I was only 11 years old. Honestly even if I don't look at it nearly as fondly as I do now, to its credit, the show did most certainly help me get interested into animation as a whole more than any other show I saw at the time.

Not even like 2 months after I got in though, I was kicked out. Not because I did anything wrong, but because for a while, my parents had me enrolled in a school district that I didn't even live anywhere near in at the time, so once they found out that I actually lived much farther from them, that's when they decided to let me go. This was devastating to me, all the friends I made in middle school, were suddenly going to go away, and it was only at the very last minute, at the principal's office that I received this news. I was upset, literally everything was going great and they just wanted to throw everything away for me, in favor for me going to a school that was so bad, it caused my family to move to an entirely new city with a better school by the time Sophomore year came around.

But anyways, about 2 weeks before all this happened, I was in a cartoon Discord server, where someone recommended me to watch this show called... you guessed it, Hilda. I took a lot at the promotional material for a while, and put it at the back of my head, not knowing that I would soon revisit it not long later. Fast forward to when I was out of school, I had like 2 weeks in the beginning of October to just cope with everything. It wasn't long that I just became bored, and wanted to do something better, so I pulled up Netflix wanting to find something new to watch. The suggestion from someone about Hilda just so happened to come up on my mind, so I was like "Eh, sure, why not?". I put it on, and the rest was history. I knew from the very moment I finished watching the intro for the very first time, that this was about to be the show of a lifetime for me.

Despite that however, I did not anticipate just how much impact Hilda would leave on the work that I am now doing nearly 6 years after that very faithful day.

I guess the biggest reason why the show left such a massive impact on me right from the beginning is because of its main title character, Hilda. Look, I may be no blue-haired adventurer from the wilderness that likes to munch on cucumber sandwiches all the time, but Hilda at the time for me, was the most relatable character and the character I found the most comfort in when watching it for the first time. Just like me, Hilda too, was also forced to move away from the place and friends she was always happy to be with, despite all her efforts, all it took was one giant, to come and crush it all, leaving her forced to live a new life in a new environment she was not familiar with at all. But, she moved on. She knew that while this was not the ideal way for things go out, life always comes with surprises. But maybe, just maybe, this could be something that could work out in her favor. This whole becoming friends with other humans and living in the big dirty ol' city, could be the best decision she has ever made. And I think it goes without saying that as the series continued, it was.

This was a message that I desperately needed to hear as I was going through overwhelming times at such a young age, and one that I was so happy to hear and watch once I finally finished the first two episodes of this amazing damn show. It showed me that if an 11-year-old girl from the wilderness can be brave enough to move into the big city, be okay and make the best out of it, maybe I too, will be okay with belonging to a new school, finding new friends, and creating new passions for me to follow for years to come. Hilda inspired me to look towards a bigger and brighter future, rather than doubt the bad that comes with the present. For that, I am forever grateful for the creative and writing team of this show, for helping me go through such a difficult time in my life, and convincing me that even despite all that has happened, there will always be something better to look forward to.

I would be lying if I said that this was the only reason as to why I ended up becoming such a huge fan of the show for the next 5 years. Asides from the writing being so good it literally cured my depression. The animation, worldbuilding, and characters were just unlike anything I have ever seen with my own two eyes. It was simple, yet jaw dropping at the same time. Just a silly kid either helping a Raven jog back his memory, try and fight nightmare spirits or ghosts, or help Jellybean out of a scary situation in which everyone wrongfully accuses him of being a big scary black hound. Even if certain episodes of season 1 didn't always turn out perfect, I would always rewatch every single one of them all day for several hours and for several weeks. I had even skipped multiple days of school especially when it was raining, just so I can head to the living room, cuddle up in some warm blankets, with the heater on during the winter season, and just binge the crap out of it for multiple hours a day. This was just the show that I can always count on to bring back the happiness inside of me. Even when I wasn't necessarily having a bad day, I would still continue to watch it for hours because it just kept on getting better and better with every watch I could get possible, it was almost like an addiction almost, haha.

Hilda was the show for me, and I had no intention of trying to watch anything else.

It was also around this time that I started to also get myself more involved with the show's fandom as well, back when it was a lot more populated and not as niche as it is now. While I'm not gonna say that my reputation in it has always been 100% perfect, at the end of the day, I'm just forever grateful I was able to meet some of the most wonderful people and hundreds of fans like myself because of it like @hkthatgffan, @helgafolk618, and many more I can't list here 'cause most of them are not on Tumblr. So much so that I now have the pleasure of creating hundreds, if not thousands of people who are fans/supporters of ME all across all my social media pages. All because I like to talk about Hilda, literally all the time. And to those reading this who has ever left a nice comment on one of my posts, said hi to me on my Discord server, worked with me on a commission, even went as far as to make fan-art of me or just tuned into any of my content whatsoever, thank you. Your support has left a massive impact on me and what I'm continuing to do now. Because at the end of the day, it's not about any popularity points you get from just talking about a TV show consistently for 6 years, for me at least, it has always been about making thousands, sometimes, even millions, happy with my love for it that is the reason that I'm doing any of this in the first place. I love Hilda, always have, and I want to make people happy the same way Hilda did for me, all those years ago.

Surprisingly enough, even though I was already as big of a fan as I could possibly be by the time November of 2018 rolled around, I still wasn't really a guy interested in getting my hands on Hilda merchandise. I knew that the graphic novels by Luke existed, but the only thing I even managed to get for myself at the time was this old T-shirt I bought from the now defunct official Zazzle store they had up for like a few months lol

I guess that all changed when I got my first ever Hilda plush though when I was 15. While it has now certainly showed its age after nearly 5 years, I loved this thing so much lol. It wasn't official because official Hilda plushies didn't exist at the time. I bought it off an Etsy store from AngelinaLily, and I would literally take this thing out with me everyday to everywhere I went to and take photos of it, especially in the wilderness. It was my favorite pastime. My little Hilda, in the palm of my hand 😆. Hey, when you have to wait more than 2 whole years for a brand-new season, what else are you gonna do to entertain yourself during the hiatus?

I had gotten this in the mail right when I had just exited out the mental hospital because I was actively wanting to h*rt myself and potentially putting myself in danger of committing s*icide. Because while Hilda did definitely help me cope with a lot that I was going through at the time, there was still a lot of overwhelming issues I was experiencing, and my mental health was the lowest that it had ever been. This plush effectively, was a way to help me cope with those thoughts I had, which turned out to be a great thing because I literally couldn't be happier with it.

After that, I just decided that "You know what? What if I just got... ALL of the Hilda merchandise?" Thus... that now leading to my massive hoard of Hilda stuff, that I now have everywhere in my room lol

These photos aren't even all the ones I have!

At 16, I decided to write Luke Pearson an e-mail, thanking him for his work and how much it has inspired me to become the person I am now, explaining everything that I just mentioned in this Tumblr post, and at the end of the day, just wanting him to know, that his creations mean a grave big deal to me, and that I will always appreciate just how much of a positive impact it has left me. I didn't really expect anything to come out of it, but about several weeks later, he said this to me lol

"I just wanted to say thank you for writing and relaying your experience to me. I'm sorry to hear that you've been through such difficult times, but I'm glad that you're able to look back on those times and find yourself in a better place. And if Hilda has played any small part in that, which it seems like it has, then I'm extremely pleased about that and it warms me to hear it. It can be hard to know exactly what good a cartoon can actually do for the world (beyond being a few hours of amusement) which is strange when so many people devote so much of their time and creative energy into making it happen. But hearing something like this goes a long way to making it feel like something genuinely worthwhile. I hope things continue to look up for you and hope you're taking care in these trying times." - All the best, Luke

When I tell you I cried like a baby when I first received this e-mail from him, I really did, lol. Hearing this, from the man who made it all possible, was truly the most inspirational thing I could have ever heard. And I was happy, that he was happy, that I was truly able to tell him for the first time, just how much his creation has meant to not just me, but to soooo many fans just like myself. It was truly something to never forget.

Now I'm 20 years old, still talking about the same ol' dang kids show I fell in love with all those years ago. What's happening now? Well now, I am an aspiring film director and video editor who has been taking film classes in community college for the past like 2 years now, I should've graduated already by now but turns out, college is pretty fricking expensive, and I don't even know if I have the funds to try and even graduate by next year. Asides from that though, I am actually in the works of creating my first ever feature-length Hilda fan-film called The Ultimate Hilda Iceberg. It will basically be one of those iceberg explanation videos you see on YouTube, but with the original source of the iceberg being about Hilda, specifically a version someone made on the r/HildaTheSeries subreddit. I've had the idea for this Iceberg video/fan-film as far back as January 2021, with the current script having started work as far back as nearly 9 months ago. And it's still not even finished! Me, as well as tens of dozens of other Hilda fans like myself, are actively working on it to have it be ready by the time fall of this year comes around, right now as we speak! If you want to support and/or follow this massive project as more updates come around you can either follow the official accounts on Twitter/X (@/HildaIceberg) or on Instagram (@/theultimatehildaiceberg).

Asides from that, the biggest passion project I have for my career moving forward, is directing my own big-budget Hilda movie. Specifically, a live-action Hilda movie. Now now, BEFORE you try and cancel me and tell me that this is the stupidest idea of all time and could taint Hilda's image forever. Let me cook. I am a huge movie bluff, I know which live action remakes are genuinely amazing, and which ones just really suck. My vision for a live-action Hilda movie is to make it sorta like how Who Framed Roger Rabbit was. All of the human characters and outside settings are done with real people and practical assets, whilst creatures like Trolls, Elves, or stuff that would normally be done with CGI, be actually turned into 2D-animation, ideally in the same style as that of the Netflix show. Ideally, I also want it to remain as faithful to at least how the show was as possible in terms of story. Look, if there's gonna be anyone else who knows their Hilda best asides from people like Luke or Andy Coyle, it's gonna be me, just sayin.

In conclusion, I just want to wrap this up by giving a huge shout out to people like @littledigits and literally ANYONE who has ever done any time making this fantastic and wonderful show (I couldn't think of anyone else to tag so I only tagged you Meg so sorry if that bothers you 😅). As this post has indicated several times, this show, has really made the best kind of impact in my life and I'm forever grateful to the creator Luke, the directors Andy Coyle, Megan, etc, the voice actors, artists, editors, composers, everyone who has ever had a part in making this amazing show just, please let me hug you. While I may not have been as enthusiastic with the show's third season overall as I wanted to in my opinion, Hilda will always have a soft spot in my heart, for years and years to come, for just how much it truly inspired me, to not just not only being able to have the luxury to do the things I love to do now, but do so in a way that has made, and hopefully will continue to make thousands, hundreds of thousands if not millions of people happy, because of the love that I will continue to have for this very show. Just because a show is small, doesn't mean it can't leave big enough impacts on people for the better ❤️

#hilda #hilda the series #hilda the show #hilda fan art #hilda netflix #hilda oc #animation #netflix

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vodika-vibes · 9 months

Text

Awards

Summary: Fives gets an award for his actions during the war.

Pairing: ARC Trooper Fives x Reader

Word Count: 953

Warnings: None

Divider by Saradika

It’s freezing. Cold enough that your face is burning and your nose is numb, and the only thing you can think about is that you are not dressed for this weather.

Ironic, since you actually are dressed for this weather.

The biting wind cuts through the layers you’re wearing as though they’re not even there, and you shiver and tug your thick jacket even tighter around yourself.

It does offer some comfort that the crowd of people around you are shivering just as badly as you are. But it only offers you a little comfort, since you’re still really fucking cold.

This stupid presentation had better begin soon, or you’re going to riot.

You glance at your chrono, and as soon as the time hits the hour, there’s a loud screech of feedback that makes you jerk in surprise.

“Terribly sorry about that everyone,” Your gaze drifts to the platform, where the new Chancellor, former Senator Mon Mothma, stands, looking all the galaxy like it wasn’t absolutely freezing. The Chancellor favors the crowd with a beaming smile, “Thank you, everyone, for joining me here today to celebrate the man who single handedly saved the Republic-”

You tune out Chancellor Mothma, your gaze drifting across the platform to land on the ARC Trooper standing at attention only a few feet away from her. A small smile crosses your face as you watch Fives, much more interested in him than anything else happening. He’s clearly uncomfortable with all the attention, but he’s doing an excellent job hiding his discomfort.

You clap when Chancellor Mothma calls him to stand next to her, and she expounds on what, exactly, Fives did to save the Republic. You smile broadly as she pins a medal to Fives’ armor, your hands clasping together just under your chin as your heart swells with pride.

Fives steps off the platform as soon as he’s able to, which is about the same time that General Windu steps up onto the platform to give the people listening an update about the war. And while, yes, that’s very important and you should probably listen, you…don’t really care about the war right now.

You slip between the people in the crowd and duck around the platform, making sure to stay out of the way. And then you finally find him. Still clad in his armor, though his helmet is clipped to his belt as he slowly runs his fingers over the medal that was no longer pinned to his armor.

“Fives?” You call from several feet away, not wanting to startle him.

He lifts his head, and favors you with a broad smile, “Cyare! You came!”

You grin and move to his side, “Of course! I told you I would!” You lean against him and glance at the medal in his hand, and then up to his face, “You okay?”

His smile falters, and he lightly bumps his forehead against yours, “It’s been a long couple of weeks, cyar’ika.” He admits tiredly.

Your fingers ghost against his cheeks, “I’m really glad you’re okay. It was…it was close there, for a bit.”

“‘M sorry, cyare. I had to-”

“Shh. You had to protect your brothers. I know, Fives.” You cup his face with your hands, “And you did! You protected them. Your brothers would be so, so proud of you.” You lightly slide one of your hands to his left bicep, where his domino tattoo sits.

There’s a look of surprise for a moment, and then understanding, “You think so?”

“I know so.”

He ducks his head and ghosts his lips against yours, “Thank you, cyare.” And then he gently tugs your scarf so it’s covering your lower face, “I’m probably going to be transferred out of the 501st.” He says helplessly, “Skywalker was Palpatine’s friend and I killed Palpatine-”

“Fuck Skywalker.” You reply, your voice slightly muffled by your scarf, “You saved the Republic, you’re probably going to get a promotion and your own battalion.” You’re teasing, mostly.

Fives blinks at you, and then there’s a flash of panic, “Babe. Babe, I don’t want my own Battalion-”

You laugh, feeling lighter than you have in weeks, “That’s the price of competency, love.”

He stares at you, eyes wide, and then his eyes narrow at you, “You’re teasing me.”

“Only a little,” You admit as you take his hand and thread your fingers with his. It’s not quite the same, since you’re both wearing gloves, but it’s still better than nothing.

“Brat,” He replies fondly.

“Do you need to stay, or can we go home and get out of the cold?” You ask with a laugh in your voice.

His gaze is soft, “I’m free for the rest of the day. I do have some things I need to do tomorrow, talking to the Jedi, getting this fucking chip removed-”

“Those are tomorrow problems, love.” You interrupt gently, “Today, we can go home and I’ll run you a bath, and give you a much needed massage,” Your fingers are gentle against his jaw, “And I’ll order us some pizza, and we can have a movie marathon.”

He lightly taps your chin to tilt your head back, and he leans in to kiss you gently, “I love you so much, you know that?” He murmurs against your lips.

“I love you too,” You reply softly.

He kisses you a few more times, and then he slowly pulls away, slowly enough that you can tell that he doesn’t want to back away from you.

The fact that he’s alive right now is a miracle, and you know that you’re both going to be extra clingy for a couple of days. Though you don’t mind. You love him after all.

#star wars #tcw #ARC Trooper Fives x Reader #Fives x Reader #Star Wars fanfiction #x reader famfiction

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https-cyber-slxt · 1 year

Text

Treat Me Like A Slut

Sub!Jack In The Box x FemDom!Reader

Ride it, slide it, bite it, get inside it.

Come on, touch my body.

I know that you like it, you can't hide it.

Come on, touch my body.

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HE'S SO 😫😫😫

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You'd never thought you'd be in this situation, after being fired from your old job, you were forced to work with your friend at the local Jack in the Box.

Your face was filled with sourness as one of customers complained about their food being cold, trying to calm the customer down, you spoke calmly towards them "Listen, I'm so sorry about the food sir, but it is the customers responsibility on how they handle it"

His face grew even angrier at your response and just as he was about throw even meaner words towards you, a hand landed directly on his shoulder.

The costumer turns around to be met with Jack's big smiling face,"Is this man bothering you, (Name)?"

"N-no! Not at all" Jack hums in response as he pats the costumers back, leading him outside of the restaurant.

You sigh in defeat as you take a break, walking out to the back of the building, taking a cigarette out of your back pocket. You hear footsteps approaching you, you decide to ignore them as you take a hit of your cigarette.

The footsteps stop in front you, "Jack" you spoke firmly, he sits down next to you, a sigh leaves his lips as one of his hands land on your knees.

"You want a promotion?" He asks out of nowhere.

"H-huh? Really?" Your voice filled with confusion. Really?? A promotion?? If you got a promotion you could finally buy a place to yourself.

You nod your head in agreement, excited about your new promotion, "Alright then, meet my at my place tonight" a bit of seduction in his voice, but you decided to ignore that part.

After a few more hours of work, and listening to costumers complain, closing time had arrived. You quickly rush out the door, locking it on the way.

8:35 PM | Jack's House |

You stood outside of Jack's house, your fingers messing with buttons of your jacket, your hand stops messing around and knocks on his door.

He immediately answers the door, that big red grin scaring the absolute shit out of you, you nervously chuckle at him.

Without a word he grabs your jacket, pulling you into his home, you yelp as you feel an arm wrap around you, the sound of the door slamming shut also coming into play.

You whimper as his other arm begins to wrap around you as well, you feel something touch your lips, but wasn't anything that belonged to Jack, no, it was more of a plastic feel.

Your whole body tenses up as you feel his breath directly next to your ear. He softly whispers to you "Cmon (Name), take it.... And get that promotion you've always wanted" he whines"Please (Name), fuck me"

You shakily sigh as you take the object in his hand, now that it was in your hands, you finally understood what it was... A dildo? With its harness?? Oh shit, he really fucking meant it.

Your eyes widen as his hand runs down your thigh along with his crotch grinding against your ass. "F-fuck (Name), hurry up, please"

His other hand wraps around your throat, grinding against you harder than before.

"Sh-shit, awh fuck~"

A power struggle broke between the both of you as you turn around and pin Jack to the wall and locking his hands above his head, ultimately winning.

He chuckles as your face grew with disappointment, you look down at the strap in your hands, thinking about all the things you could do to him.

"Keep your hands up, if you don't, I will make sure you can't walk for the next week, understand?"

He swallows thickly and slowly nods at your request, you let go of him, he keeps his arms up as requested. You smile at him and although it wasn't the best idea, you turn your back to him to adjust the strap properly.

You turn back around and walk towards him, "Say Jack, do me a favor and face the wall for me" He lowers his hands and turns to look at the wall, you wrap your arms around his waist, undoing his belt.

He whimpers at your actions, "Shit~ you're really g-good with those hands huh?" His sentence was immediately cut off by your hand squeezing his dick, a small yelp escaping him instead.

"Oh! Oh fuck! Jesus Christ (Name)"

After a few more minutes of teasing you decide to give him the what he wanted in the first place.

Without hesitation or warning you insert yourself into him, a loud moan leaving his mouth at the unexpected pleasure, you grab his arms and lock them behind his back, he gasps as one of his leg instinctively wraps around one of yours.

"Fuuuuck~, (Name), that's it, right there"

He pushes himself back into the dildo, trying to produce any sort of stimulation, "Nuh-uh, not until I say so" you spoke out as one of your hands held his hips still. He whines while trembling beneath you.

You change your mind on the position you were in, you turn around put your back against the wall, you drop Jack until he basically bending over, catching his hands to stop him from falling face-flat into the ground.

He turns his head towards you, his voice filled with worrisome, "(N-name)? What a-are you doing-"

His sentence was cut off by you thrusting into him, the strap hitting his prostate dead-on.

"Sh-shit (N-name), you co-could've given me a w-warning"

You laugh as speed up, his words slowly turning into nothing but swears as his hands grip yours tighter.

"Fuuuuck, shitshitshit, you-you really w-want th-that prom-promotion h-huuuuuh?~"

You giggle at him, "Uh-huh, I could finally get out of my old apartment, maybe you could even visit me from time to time"

He tries to laugh but he moans out instead, the pleasure overcoming him, "Oh shit, (Name) I'm go-gonna c-cum, f-f-fuck, ngh, ah!"

His moans grew louder as your hands grip tighter with his. His orgasm approaching closer.

"Go on Jack, cum for me" you laugh as he cries out, his legs twitching as his cum drips onto the floor.

He chokes out a whine as you push him back up into your chest, you loudly sigh while prepping his shoulder with kisses. He uses your thighs as support to keep himself up along with your help.

"So, about that promotion..."

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A/N: my writing has been so sloppy bro, I feel like shite

#dom!reader #fem!reader #sub!character #fast food #jack in the box #sub male #im so done #Spotify

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feverishly-kpop · 10 months

Text

Hyunjin & Stray Kids - Spicy Food Challenge

Stray Kids were no strangers to appearing on variety shows and, with their new comeback, they were once again making the rounds. Some of the shows really were great to go on. Fun hosts, interesting challenges, kind staff, overall truly just a good atmosphere to work.

Unfortunately, this given show was not one of them.

When Chan had announced that they’d be back on the show this week promoting the comeback he was met with a chorus of groans.

“Every time we go you tell us that hopefully it’ll be the last time but somehow we always end up back there” Changbin said, the frustration evident in his voice.

“I know, I’m sorry,” Chan responded, carefully towing the line between being a leader and a friend. He didn’t want to go any more than anybody else in the group but if JYPE said that they were going, then they were going.

The mood was undeniably sour over the next couple of days as they awaited their afternoon of filming, everybody on edge about what was to come. Felix hadn’t said more than a few words to Chan, feeling sensitive about the last time they were on the show and some off-colour remarks were made about Felix’s freckles that didn’t make the final edit. Chan had assured him behind closed doors that they wouldn’t have to go back again but that was clearly a promise he couldn’t deliver on.

Hyunjin had immediately picked up on Felix’s discontent and pulled him aside, where Felix promptly began crying as he explained why he was upset. The unkept promise, the embarrassment of having to face the hosts again, and the fear that they’d make more cruel jokes at his expense again. Hyunjin listened attentively before pulling Felix into a hug, promising that he’d make sure that nothing happened this time.

*~*~*~*~*~

Hyunjin made sure to deliver on that promise, patting the seat next to him in the van that morning, inviting Felix to stay by his side. Chan looked on, knowing that Felix was rightfully upset with him but also recognizing that now was not the time to deal with that. Hyunjin seemed to have things under control and that would need to be enough until they had wrapped filming and Chan could sit down with Felix and hash things out.

The shoot had started off innocuously enough, introductions followed by a dance challenge, some harmless jokes sprinkled here and there. Hyunjin stayed by Felix’s side as much as he could and kept his eyes glued on him when they had to be separated. When they made it to the last challenge without incident Hyunjin was almost convinced that maybe things had changed since the last time they appeared on the show.

That notion was quickly dispelled when the last challenge was explained - a hot wing challenge. They would all eat one hot wing, gradually increasing in heat.

“Last time Felix was here he got a little teary eyed over something that was said. So we figured we’d give him the opportunity to redeem himself by giving him the hottest wing to eat” the host said, his tone upbeat but with a recognizably sinister undertone to anyone who was actually paying attention.

Felix immediately made eye contact with Hyunjin in a way that made it clear that Hyunjin had to do something immediately. Without giving it much thought, Hyunjin quickly spoke up.

“Felix isn’t a fan of spicy things, he can eat mine and I’ll eat his” he said, knowing he’d regret every word of it once it was his turn to actually eat the wing. It was true that Felix wasn’t fond of spicy food, but it was also true that Hyunjin himself was even less fond of it. Felix looked back at Hyunjin very much ready to walk back Hyunjin’s declaration, but Hyunjin gave him a look that made Felix turn away, accepting the favor that Hyunjin had done for him.

The first few members ate their wings, all fairly mild comparatively. Han got a few laughs when he dropped his on the floor, making a small mess that he was forced to clean up himself. Hyunjin knew that editing would surely have a heyday with that, which made him laugh a little harder.

Minho was the last to go before Hyunjin, his face turning crimson as he swallowed his wing. Minho had a fairly high tolerance for spicy food, which meant that if his wing was hot enough to make him blush, Hyunjin was in for it.

The moment that the host put the wing in front of Hyunjin his heart began to race. The smell alone almost burned the inside of his nostrils.

“The last hot wing is made from the hottest pepper on Earth, the Carolina reaper” the host said as Hyunjin looked at the wing. He delayed another moment before finally picking it up and taking a bite.

For a second Hyunjin thought that maybe it smelled spicier than it actually was. But that changed in a matter of seconds when the heat kicked in and continued to rise unlike anything that Hyunjin had ever experienced. He put the wing down on the plate, trying his best to chew and swallow which would signify successful completion of the challenge. After what felt like an excruciatingly long time, Hyunjin swallowed and opened his mouth, earning applause from everybody on set. He stood up quickly, doing his best to feign a smile as he swayed on his feet out of dizziness.

Felix immediately noticed Hyunjin’s discomfort, discretely sneaking to his side. Hyunjin quickly grabbed Felix’s arm in an effort to steady himself as his head continued to spin.

“I need a drink” Hyunjin said quietly in a voice only audible to Felix. Felix nodded quickly in response, making eye contact with a member of the production team who was already a step ahead of him, pouring a cold glass of milk for Hyunjin.

Hyunjin accepted the glass with shaky hands but Felix couldn’t help but notice the way he struggled to get it to his mouth.

“Hey, how about you sit down again and have a few sips” Felix said, guiding Hyunjin back to the chair he had been sitting in for the challenge. Hyunjin took a step forward but tripped, spilling a bit of the milk from his glass to the floor. He tried to smile, doing his best to play it off, but it was becoming clear to Felix that Hyunjin wasn’t feeling very well.

The side conversion continued as Hyunjin collapsed heavily into the chair, spilling some milk on his pants in the process prompting more laughter from some of the members. Felix promptly grabbed a napkin to wipe the wet spot near his knee as Hyunjin took a sip from the glass.

Chan had made his way to Hyunjin’s other side, pushing his hair behind his ears in order to get the loose strands off of his face, which was becoming more and more flushed by the moment. Minho was kneeling down in front of him, supporting his hand and quietly encouraging him to take a few more small sips of milk.

The rest of the members, however, seemed oblivious to the discomfort that Hyunjin was experiencing, continuing to laugh with the hosts as they made jokes that Hyunjin couldn’t hear over the ringing in his ears. All he could focus on was the dizziness and the uncomfortable heat radiating from the inside of his body out.

And that’s when his stomach turned.

Minho had been trying to coax him to take another drink when Hyunjin quickly shook his head. Minho had seen that look in Hyunjin’s eyes enough times to know what came next. Without missing a beat he quickly pulled Hyunjin to his feet, wrapping an arm around his waist, just in time for Hyunjin to put his hand over his mouth. They made it off set and into the hallway before Hyunjin doubled over the first waste bin they came across, immediately vomiting up the hot wing and just about everything else he had to eat and drink that day. Chan and Felix followed them off the set and stood at a respectable distance until Hyunjin finished.

Nobody in the hallway said a word. Instead, Hyunjin was left to take in the sounds of half of his team laughing at his pain along with the hosts as Minho held him upright, Felix rubbed his back, and Chan searched for a chair to sit Hyunjin down in before he collapsed.

*~*~*~*~*~

Hyunjin wasn’t sure how the show ended. Chan had returned and helped Minho drag him to a nearby lounge where they quickly laid him down on a couch. Minho pulled a couple of pillows off some of the surrounding chairs and placed them under Hyunjin’s feet, worried that he would pass out based on how dizzy he seemed to be. Chan dampened a folded up paper towel and placed it over Hyunjin’s forehead hoping to get him more comfortable. Felix stood back letting his hyungs take care of Hyunjin apologizing repeatedly until Minho shushed him, kindly advising that he needed to calm down so that Hyunjin could calm down.

Once the filming wrapped the rest of the members found Chan, Minho, Hyunjin and Felix in the lounge.

“Hyunjin you were so funny! The funniest part of the show” Han said through his laughter.

“This shoot was so fun, I can’t believe we didn’t want to come” I.N. added before getting a glare from Minho, who was doing his best to comfort a sick and now crying Hyunjin.

“Out” Chan said sternly, turning away from Hyunjin to face the rest of the team that had just come in. “Get out. Now. Tell the driver to take you all home and come back for the rest of us.

They all froze, not at all accustomed to seeing Chan in such an angry state, but quickly followed his directions and filed out of the room.

“Our ride won’t be back for another half hour or so. Just close your eyes Jinnie. Minho, Felix, and I will be here if you need anything” Chan whispered to Hyunjin as he replaced the compress on his forehead with a fresh one.

*~*~*~*~*~

By the time they returned home Hyunjin was feeling much better apart from being exhausted by the entire experience. Minho had sent Felix back to their apartment as Chan helped Hyunjin get cleaned up for bed.

“Are you sure you’re alright now, Hyunjin?” Chan lingered on the edge of his dongsaeng’s bed, brushing some rogue strands of hair from Hyunjin’s face. “You gave us a scare.”

Hyunjin nodded his head and Chan stood up, pulling the blankets more snugly. Just as he was about to leave the room, he heard his name being called from the bed softly. He turned around to find Hyunjin suddenly tearing up.

“Why were they all laughing?” Hyunjin asked, wiping the tears from his eyes before they could fall. “I was sick and they all laughed.”

“I’m sorry, Jinnie. I’m going to talk to them. I promise” Chan replied as he closed the door finding very angry Minho and a very scared Han and Changbin.

“My apartment” Minho growled through gritted teeth. “Now.”

Han and Changbin instantly rose to their feet and headed out the door followed by Minho. Chan couldn’t help but laugh, knowing that Minho was about to give them exactly what they deserved.

*~*~*~*~*~

Hyunjin woke up the next morning feeling fairly well apart from a bit of residual pain in his stomach. He found his phone on his bedside table where Minho had made sure to place it on its charger the prior evening. Upon unlocking it he immediately found a text from Felix:

“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have let you eat the hot wing. I hope you’re feeling better.”

Hyunjin responded, assuring Felix that he was feeling just fine and that he had nothing to apologize for before stepping out of him room to find two very guilt-ridden members eating breakfast in nearly complete silence. Han and Changbin’s eyes both shot up at Hyunjin as he exited his room but Changbin was the first to speak as he leapt to his feet.

“I’m so sorry, Jinnie, we all are. Truly,” Changbin said as he guided Hyunjin by the shoulders to a seat at the table. “I didn’t realize how sick you were.”

Han was the next one on his feet, filling a glass of water and placing it in front of Hyunjin.

“We can’t have you getting dehydrated on us. Make sure you have plenty to drink today to replenish your fluids. Is your stomach feeling better? Do you still feel dizzy? You look a bit flushed…”

Hyunjin cut Jisung off before he could continue to spiral.

“I’m fine, Hannie. If I’m flushed it’s only because you two are embarrassing me” Hyunjin replied with a laugh.

Han smiled sadly as he sat down across from Hyunjin again. “That’s fair,” he said before pausing. “But I’m really sorry. We were jerks last night.”

“Thank you. I accept your apologies. But I’m really feeling a lot better today. No more apologies” Hyunjin replied, standing up to get himself some breakfast.

Just then, there was a knock on the door. Hyunjin opened it to find Seungmin and I.N. on the other side, both looking just like Changbin and Han had when Hyunjin had come out of his room a few minutes earlier. Without delay they both launched themselves at him, sputtering about how sorry they were.

Hyunjin sighed. So much for no more apologies.

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