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violetarks · 7 months

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spit on my grave, but kiss my mouth!

anime: chainsaw man

characters: hayakawa aki, kishibe, yoshida hirofumi, himeno

summary: they hate you, they can feel it in their bones, but at the first opportunity to kiss you? who wouldn't take that chance?

warnings: g/n! reader, they/them pronouns used, second person pov, some name-calling, somebody tries to lush to get y/n's number in yoshida's, kishibe is in his late 20s bc holy smokes he would outshine the whole cast if he is was younger in the anime no lie, kishibe is also a little flirty in this bc that's how he was when he was younger, smoking, drinking (y/n gets a little tipsy), reference to nsfw themes but its legit just the lines "you need an s/o bc you're so tense all the time" and "we didn't... did we?", y/n and kishibe go home together, also a bit suggestive in himeno's part

↣ hayakawa aki

if there was anything he hated more than anything, aki absolutely despised slackers. anyone who postponed their work til the last minute, and for the result to be the most sloppy piece of shit he has ever seen. which is why he didn't understand why makima would ever think of hiring someone like you as a devil hunter.

you stood there, your uniform messily put on — for god's sake, your tie was undone, just hanging around your neck! even power and denji dressed better than you. how could these devils do better than a devil hunter?

you sat atop makima's desk, getting the crumbs of your sandwich all over her furniture. aki visibly cringed. how could you be so careless?

it wasn't like you were unattractive, it's just the way you acted at work that made aki dislike you. and in front of your superior. truthfully, the only reason makima hired you was because of your amazing skill as a hunter without the use of contracts. if you weren't so useful...

when he first met you, aki would admit, he was intrigued. you were pretty, and makima had brought you in to interview you. you were splattered in devil's blood, and you looked serious.

yet the moment that you locked eyes with aki, your demeanour changed. you were suddenly so sloppy. he saw the way you held out your bloodied hand to shake his, how you lazily threw your dirty coat on the couch. he knew from then on, that your looks were a waste, perhaps.

"are you finished, y/n?" makima asked, walking into her office in her trench coat. aki was called there for a morning briefing, so imagine his disappointment when he saw you instead. you nodded your head, hopping off the desk and sweeping the mess you made into the nearby bin. "good. now, you two are teaming up for your next mission."

aki wanted to refuse, so badly. he watched as you tugged on your loose collar, shirt not even tucked in, and stood beside him. he listened to makima outline the upcoming mission, and also listened to how often you yawned or shifted in your spot. you seemed so unintetrsted.

aki's never been on a mission with you, but he's seen the mess you leave behind, more than he would've left. and he's seen you guiltlessly nap in the car while everyone else cleaned up your leftovers.

you were careless when you fought, as seen when you dodge under the attack of a devil and trip over debris on the floor. aki slides in with his unpowered sword, slicing the mutated arm away and shielding you from another attack.

"get up, dumbass!" he calls, looking over his shoulder to see you brushing off dust from your lap.

"relax, geez. i'm up, i'm up." you scoff back, picking up your weapon again. aki wanted to slap some sense into you. "i'm so tired, let's get this done."

the fight continued on until it was at what seemed to be the climax. you were both beaten down, the devil on the brink of giving up. but you gripped your weapon tighter, rushing towards the enemy with determination. you were growing tired of this fight, both mentally and physically. you were imagining yourself at home, in front of the tv with some food in your hands. anywhere but here.

"aki?" you call, looking around the scene. you couldn't find him, and it was worrying you. "aki!"

you were met with silence, making you scowl and continue on trying to defeat the devil. maybe by then, you'll be able to find him and bring him back to makima for help. god, you hated dead weight.

with a few attacks landing on the devil, aki finally stands from his position beneath debris. he had been hit into a wall, making the ceiling fall over him. when he had made himself visible. you glance at him, relieved.

"y/n..." he heaves, drawing his sword. he was bleeding from his shoulders and you could count the tears and cuts in his uniform. and he blamed you for being dirty...

before you can speak, the devil immediately charges towards him. you widen your eyes, racing after it. "aki!"

he breathes in heavily, trying to gather his focus. but his vision is just so blurry that he can't think properly. the blood he's lost has already made him hazy, all he can hear is the loud footsteps of the devil. his joints click and falter as he tries to take his normal fighting stance. he's weak and you can see it.

with all your might, you rush towards him. you couldn't let him die, not someone as strong and admirable as him. while you knew he disliked you (aki definitely wasn't the most subtle), you couldn't deny his worth as a hunter, and as a person. you looked up to him.

aki doesn't know what is happening until he sees you jump high in the air and thrust your weapon to pierce through the devil's skin, knocking it off course. as it skids to the side, you tumble to the ground, rolling on the ground and getting dirt and blood all over you. aki blinks, clueless.

"are you alright, aki?" you huff out, tired. he slowly hums in confirmation. you send him a smile, which makes him gulp. "that's a relief."

the devil turns back to him though, not stopping on its tracks to get to aki. by this time, you're in front of your co-worker, holding your weapon to prepare yourself. with a deep breath, you wait for the devil to come closer before dealing the final blow, ending the devil's life.

once the devil falls lifeless, you let out a loud whine, "agh, finally! ah, i'm so beat!" you fall to the floor, knees giving out beneath you. aki watches you stay on the ground, wiping the sweat off from your brow. with a click of his tongue, he falls to the ground as well. you turn to look at him, blinking. "ah, aki. that devil really fucked you up, huh?"

you laugh makes him even more weak. you move closer to him, taking his chin and turning his head to see his bruises. "we should get you back to the office. i'll patch you up before denji and power see you, alright? they'd piss themselves seein' you like this." you joke, patting his shoulder. your carefree attitude was so irritable...but he couldn't deny that your words made him feel lighter.

so when he pushes forward and presses his lips to yours, he knows why his heart pulses harder when he's around you. he likes you. his palm rests on your neck to hold you in place, making you lean your hands on both sides of his waist to balance yourself. aki squeezes his eyes shut, as if to keep himself from seeing your shocked face.

you were speechless, frozen. but once you settled in, you kissed him back. you tasted like blood — maybe that was his own since he cut his lip — but neither of you seemed to mind. his harsh hand against the back of your head suddenly goes soft, trailing down to brush your cheek.

he sighed against your lips, upturned brows. he felt like he needed this. he needed you.

aki was mysterious with his true feelings, but this was the first glimpse into them. you let out a small sigh as you pull away.

"you—..." you mumble out, covering your mouth as you sit up straight. his hand leaves your cheek, now gripping the debris beneath him. he felt so embarrased. "idiot aki. c'mon, let's get outta' here first."

you heave aki over your shoulder, his arm over while yours is wrapped around his middle. he was also speechless, blushing so red that he kept his head down so you couldn't see. his heart was beating faster at your touch. but to kiss you? he was truly crazy, wasn't he?

↣ kishibe

"can you smoke somewhere else?" you scoff, bringing your glass to your lips. the rest of the room was filled with slight chatter, the sound if cups being clinked together.

"you see any spare seats at this bar?" kishibe asks, putting his lighter away into his pocket. the bar allowed smoking, one of the only bars in the neighbourhood that still did. he watched you roll your eyes and finish your drink, asking the bartender for another. "you're so uptight, ya'know?"

"you're the most annoying person i've ever been paired up with." you groan, watching your glass get refilled. you take your glass once more and glare at kishibe. "those things kill you."

"you drink." he says, putting down his own cold alcoholic beverage. you click your tongue at him. "you act like you're so much better than me."

"you smoke and drink, you smug asshole." you grunt, feeling a little woozy from the past hour of non-stop drinking you and kishibe have been partaking in.

this was his idea, saying that you needed to wind down. you enjoyed a few drinks every now and then, but today had been particularly hard on you. makima was really ripping into after a devil got away, making you go after them again with your partner present this time. you felt embarrassed at your loss. as much as you were strong, kishibe hated how weak you were.

there was no denying that you were somewhat talented, so why weren't you getting stronger? kishibe was already tired from his own work, but when he was paired with you, his job got even harder. you were lazy with your work, leaving hints of your weaknesses everywhere you stepped. and you wondered why. kishibe couldn't handle how much if a rule-follower you were when your strength wasn't anything impressive. sometimes he'd with you'd abandon your work and finally leave all this stuff behind. such an attractive person like you shouldn't be burning their brain trying to work as a devil hunter.

"why don't you just drink and shut up?" kishibe huffs, keeping his cigarette between his fingers. he blew the smoke into the air above you, making you cover your nose and scowl at him. you hated smoking, all the reason why you disliked being partnered up with him. he wasn't kishibe without his smokes. "you're do tense all the time, you need a girlfriend or boyfriend or something. maybe you'll relax a lil'."

"and you're telling me to shut up." you groan, waving the smoke away. kishibe rolls his eyes leaning his elbows into the counter. "you know what, kishibe? i've seriously had enough of—of your attitude."

he watches you down glass after glass; it was kicking in, the alcohol. he was wondering how long it would take before you started slurring your words. it was subtle, but kishibe has never seen you like this, not yet at least. it would be a fun way to tease you tomorrow morning when you come in to work. you glare at him, blinking a few times. he waited impatiently for you to collect your words.

"ever since i met you, you've been a pain in my ass, always runnin' your pretty mouth and rolling your pretty eyes at me." you complain, continuing to drown yourself in the sweet drinks you were taking. kishibe sighs to himself, already knowing that you'll be too drunk to pay your own bill. he pulls out his wallet to start counting bills as you go on to 'insult' him. he'd have to be careful now, he was starting to feel the alcohol too. "if you weren't so strong, i'd kick your ass myself!"

"oh yeah?" he says, deciding on when to stop you from ordering. he calls down the bartender for a few more glasses for you and himself. "you're too weak to pull somethin' like that, sweetheart. can't even hold your own against a low rank devil. need someone strong to protect you, huh?"

"what? says who?" you say, voice raising a little. he hated it when you did that, it was so annoying. you were so childish for someone only a year younger than him. "i was doing perfectly fine without you! makima needed me to babysit you..."

"what are you even goin' on about?" he huffs, taking in some smoke, "do you even know what i'm saying? are you that drunk?"

while you were a little tipsy, you definitely weren't drunk. you were just slurring your words a little, but you were conscious. you weren't saying anything you wouldn't say sober. you knew what you were doing, and how you were acting.

"'course not, shithead. i'm not getting drunk in front of you." you tell him, gulping down another drink. he thinks that maybe your tolerance is moderately high. "i'm just sayin', you're never gonna' get married if you're like that. you're lucky i tolerate you, somebody has to."

he raises a brow at that, then taking one last huff of his cigarette before putting it out in the ash tray provided. "so you're saying i'll only get married if my romantic partner tolerates me?"

"duh." you scoff, tilting your head at him. was he getting drunk? it was also your heightened confidence that he found annoying.

"and you're the only one who tolerates me?" kishibe presses.

"yeah." you answer so quickly that you don't even think. once you realise what you've said, you put your glass down. your face was burning now, and you didn't know whether it was because of the drinks or him. he chuckles. "shut up..."

"mhm." he hums out, now leaning close to you. your shoulders nearly press against each other. he sees no sign of you moving away, but you begin to stare at him, unable to figure out which eye to look at. "you wanna' kiss me?"

you let out a small sigh, glancing down at his lips for a second. but you harden your stare in his eyes.

"or are you asking me to kiss you?" he offers. your eyes widen a little at that, and it seems he has his answer already. but you were so cute like this, he just had to tease you. "but i've been smoking. it'll taste like it, y'know?"

"just let me find out." you mumble, placing a hand on the side of his stool, against his thigh, "kiss me once?"

"well, shit." he chuckles out, now resting a hand on your cheek. you blink at him, feeling comfortable against his palm. "you've got a little crush on me."

you furrow your brows and mumble out, "s—so?"

"ain't that cute?" he says, brushing his thumb against your cheek, "you're not gonna' slap me if i kiss you, are ya'?"

"only if you keep on wasting time." you huff, fist against the bar top. you would never ask him something like this out of the blue. but the atmosphere around you both... it felt suitable. a small smile dawns on his lips at your eagerness.

"fine." he sighs out, leaning forward and finally connecting lips with yours. you hold your breath, not really expecting him to do it. your hand on the stool tightens its grip as he slides his hand from your cheek to the back of your neck, deepening the kiss. your lips were so soft, and warm. he can tell that you haven't kissed many people, but that doesn't matter. he never thought he'd be kissing you either.

he had been smoking for the past hour, so he did taste like smoke. while you hated the taste, now, it was sort of masked by the drinks you were both having. and you just couldn't get it out of your head that you were kissing kishibe. the man you kinda' hated.

the kiss didn't last as long as either of you would've wanted, but it's a public place and you only asked for a sample. when he pulls away, you open your eyes to see his smug smile that always makes you irritated. but this time, you're just plain embarrassed. he begins to laugh at you softly, making you click your tongue and push his face away.

"d—don't talk about it." you say, standing up and grabbing your coat. you pay for your drinks with a tip and avoid eye contact with your partner. he downs the rest of his drink and puts his own money down. you begin to walk to the exit before kishibe reaches out and holds your wrist. you glare back at him. "what?"

"can't let you go home all by yourself." he says, standing up and shrugging his trench coat on. you squint at him. "and you don't wanna' let lil' ol' me walk home alone either, do you? let's take a cab to yours."

"seriously?" you mumble under your breath, walking to the exit with him behind you. "fine... you can sleep on the couch."

"aw, such a pity."

↣ yoshida hirofumi

"yoshida, may i speak with you for a moment?" the teacher asks after the bell rings, making everyone in the class turn to their classmate. a playful 'ooh' rang around the room to tease him, making yoshida roll his eyes with a smile. the rest of the class begins to tidy their things up until the teacher speaks up again. "class president, please wait outside for a few minutes.

you look up from your desk, blinking at your teacher. but you nod your head. "yes, ma'am." you respond, fixing your uniform and taking your bag, heading outside with your friends.

yoshida can't help but roll his eyes at the way you walk out of the classroom, all preppy and gracious. you don't even look at him, as if he was scum compared to you. the two of you weren't friends and that was clear enough. you were the class president and needed to keep everyone in order. the rest of the class had liked you and you were friends with other classes too. but the only one who didn't like you was yoshida hirofumi.

you told him that the school didn't allow all those piercings and that the standard were the studs. but he came back the next day with another piercing, showing it off with a diamond earring that he wore once for the purpose of pissing you off. you reprimanded him, disliking his laidback attitude and how he didn't take school seriously. what a waste of a student. you knew plenty of people who would do way better in his position. someone like you knew this and hated that he didn't.

yoshida hated how uptight you were and how you were such a stickler for the rules. he knows that he's not a good student, but why were you always on his ass for it? there were other people in the class — hell, there were tons of other people in the school that you could've been paying attention to, but you chose him. he hated it so much.

"to cut it short, yoshida, your grades have been dropping severely." the teacher had said, making the student snap back into reality. he stands up straight again, nodding his head. "i've decided to allocate you a tutor for all of your classes. you and—"

"don't say l/n."

"... l/n will be meeting on your own terms to study. they're an excellent student and have tutored many of your classmates, yoshida, there is no need to worry." the teacher continued, handing him a stack of papers. he holds them, heaving them under his arms. "practice exams, practice essay, practice tests. you will go through all of these with l/n."

"seriously?" yoshida huffs out, rubbing the back of his neck, "for how long?"

"until your grades are better." the teacher explains, sitting down to grade their quiz from today, "i understand that the two of you aren't close, but make-do for now. you need to rely on them."

"i understand." he sighs, taking the work and leaving the classroom. he sees you standing next to the door, bag on your shoulder as you read a book. he wants to cringe at the cliché scene. "hey. you're tutoring me."

"i know." you respond, tucking your book into your bag and starting on your way, "we're heading to the city library."

"wait, what? you knew?" he says, falling into step beside you. you nod your head. he knits his brows at you as you exit the school. "great. now i gotta' spend months with you."

"just get your grades up and you're fine." you respond, looking to the sky for some patience. he was already getting annoying. "trust me, even a delinquent like you can pass the next exam."

"you talk a lotta' shit for a goody-two-shoes." he huffs, swinging his bag recklessly around. the two of you board a train towards the city and you take the papers from yoshida, flicking through them and making notes of what to teach him. he watches you from his spot beside you. "even your handwriting is blinding. why is it so... neat?"

"you mean readable?" you scoff, looking at him with an aggravated expression. why did he talk so much? "i'm doing this for you."

"why did you even agree to this if we don't like each other?" he asks you, watching the roof of the strangely empty train. you look back to the work, sorting them into sections. "you have a secret crush on me or something?"

"what? no, idiot." you scoff, shaking your head, "i just don't want you to fall behind. it'd be a shame for everyone else to graduate without you." he looks back to you, a surprised look on his face. but you look away, outside. "don't look too much into it, yoshida. just trying to keep the class average up."

"yeah, whatever..." he mumbles, going back to hating you. any sliver of you being genuinely nice was now gone. he just listened to the way the train rolled across the tracks. he listened to you scribble down your notes.

he had watched countless people confess to you. just yesterday, a girl handed you a bouquet of flowers — your favourite ones, apparently — and confessed to you that she had feeling for you for a year. but you rejected her, apologising and saying that you did not return her feelings. it felt somewhat cold, yoshida was watching from around the corner. luckily you didn't notice him, you probably would've told him off for not doing his class duties.

he never understood the appeal to you. why did so many people want you?

a few minutes kater, you were in the library, setting up your things in a private study area. you gave him some work to try out and pulled out your own things to do. he sighs, taking out his pencil case to write on the paper, "put on some music or something."

"this is a library, yoshida." you retort, rolling your eyes, "just do your work and show me when you're done."

"jesus, i can't believe people actually like you." he groans, leaning back in his chair. you blink at his insult. "i don't understand why everyone flocks around you and throw themselves in your direction."

"i'm the class president, people come to me for advice all the time. maybe if you showed up to class more than one a week you'd notice." you huff out, glaring at him, "people like me because i'm good help."

"singing your own praises?" he snickers, flipping through the booklet. he hated how confident you were in yourself when he really saw you as overbearing. even the way you sat there, writing with your perfect handwriting. "i can't deal with you, president."

"i couldn't tell." you sigh, standing up. he watches your movements. "i'm going to grab you a book go borrow for the next week. it has all you need to know on the book we studied this semester. i don't have enough time to explain everything to you before the exams since it's in a few months. but that book will help."

"yay..." he mumbles out, moving onto the next set of questions. he waited for you to come back with your stupid book, but enough time had passed that it was suspicious. he even finished the booklet that you gave him, and that took him a while. he looks around the library, seeing few people walking about. "where are they go? don't tell me they abandoned me here..."

he stands up, positive your stuff would stay safe, and begins to look through the aisles. he doesn't see you yet, and he's getting pissed out. you made him come here, and you just ditched? that's so 'un-presidently' of you.

but he hears your voice in the next aisle, sounding pissed off. like always, when you spoke to him.

"thank you for showing me where the book is, but i should get going." you say, yoshida standing at the other end of the aisle, out of your sight. he could see the boom you were holding and your stupid hair, but you were blocked off by someone else. "please leave me alone."

"aw, what? i help you find your book and this is the thank i get?" the taller person says, hand against the bookshelf to keep you from walking off. you roll your eyes at them. "c'mon, just your number, that's all i ask for."

"it's your job to help people in the library find their books. you work here." you explain, tucking the book under your arm, "i don't owe you anything other than a 'thank you'."

"well i take my 'thank you's in dates." they respond. yoshida sighs, clenching his fists and walking towards the both of you. "what's somebody gotta' do to land one with you—"

"leave 'em alone, asshole." yoshida scoffs, tugging the worker back and standing in between the both of you. you widen your eyes at him before looking away, a bit ashamed to need his help. but yoshida is glaring at the librarian. "they're not interested."

"shit man, i'm sorry, i didn't know they—"

"yeah whatever. get outta here." yoshida scoffs, rolling his eyes. the worker only looks his up and down before walking off, muttering under their breath. once they're gone, yoshida looms to you. "you good?"

"yeah..." you mumble out, rubbing your forehead, "people like that give me a headache.

"mhm." he huns out, seeing how you lean against the bookcase. you stared down st the analytical text in your hands. you were so embarrassed that he had to come in and save you. some like him, protecting you...

you look back up and see his smug face, and you just know that he's aware of how you're feeling.

"who would've guessed it? i had to come to the class president's aid." yoshida chimes, leaning a hand against the bolted down bookshelf. you scowl at him, closing your eyes. "i guess you owe me one now, huh?"

"and once again, you're an ass..." you retort. your little scrunched up face makes yoshida smile. genuinely. he scans your appearance before tilting his head at you.

"what is it that makes people fawn over you so much?" he questions, looking confused. you open your eyes to see him standing closer. "i mean, sure, you're cute, but that's about it, no? your stubbornness ruins it all. as soon as you open your mouth, i wanna burst my ear drums."

"whatever, yoshida. i don't care what you have to say." you mumble back at him.

"see? so mean." he chuckles, take another step closer. you notice but don't say anything, to which he notices as well. out of all the people who have liked you, he's surely standing the closest. you haven't pushed him away, which is strange. you'd usually be out in a second. but you stand your ground. he smiles at you. "how could anyone find that attractive?"

you look to the side for a split second, only for yoshida to come unbearably closer. you can feel his breath on your cheek and his shoulder is against yours. his other hand stays in his pocket while the other braces himself. you hold your own breath.

"maybe people only like your pretty face." he says, not missing a beat as his hand slides down to hold the shelf beside your torso. his wrist slightly grazes your body. you shiver for a second, standing up straighter. yoshida pays attention. "you think so, y/n?"

"no, i—i don't." you stammer. yoshida is surprised when he feels you grasp his shirt, making him lean back jut enough to see your expression. you could barely hold your glare. so cute. "i'm... i'm a good person, so that's why—"

"that's the first thing people notice when they look at you. your looks." he claims, making your face burn hot. but yoshida just smiles at you. "you sayin' i'm wrong?"

you scoff at him, "why are you so close anyway...?" he raises his brows at you, eyes flicking to your lips for more than a second. you realise what he's looking at before you speak again. "yoshida...?"

"you don't seem to mind..." he trails off, "you can always push me away if i get too close..."

you don't say anything as he gets closer and closer until suddenly, he's kissing you. yoshida's hand stays at the shelf to hold himself up, but his other one gently holds your hand against his chest. you're kissing back before you can even think, your other hand still holding onto the book.

he tastes a bit savoury, probably because of the hot lunch he had before. but the drink he had on the table where you two were studying, is sweet. the mixture entices you as you as you are the one to deepen the kiss, pushing forward and catching yoshida by surprise.

you let out a small squeak; it was obvious you weren't experienced. with how seriously you took school, how could you be? yoshida didn't have his fair share of partners either but, he was so gentle with you.

when he pulls away, he opens his eyes to see your dazed look towards him. you gulp once you regain your sense of thought, then leaning back.

"i'm sorry, i—"

"i guess you're not a terrible kisser." he interrupts you, standing up straight and keeping his hands to himself. you feel somewhat relieved, but you nudge yoshida in the stomach due to embarrassment. "hey, stop. maybe that's why people like you."

"i don't go around kissing everyone, shit for brains." you claim, shoving the book into his chest. he stands back with an 'oof', watching you walk out of the aisle.

"so it's just me?" he chuckles, jogging to catch up with you. you glare at him. "how lucky."

↣ himeno

himeno didn't understand why aki spoke so highly of you. her friend, whose opinion was usually right, explained that you were a tremendous hunter and that you were highly respected. so why are you in her apartment, in your shirt and underwear, and eating out of her fridge?

"morning." you say, seeing the groggy himeno coming out of her room. she blinks cluelessly at you. "you hungry? i made breakfast."

"the hell are you doing here?" she grunts, walking closer to you in a hoodie and sweatpants. you look back at her, sorting the breakfast into two bowls. "and why are you using my food?"

"huh? you don't remember? you invited me over last night after drinks." you explain, taking out two spoons and shoving one into the food before pushing the bowl to himeno. "you're wearing my sweater, by the way."

"i was wonder when i bought this." she murmurs to herself. but she then shakes her head, sitting down at the counter and thinking to herself why would she ever invite the person she loathed the most to stay at hers? "we didn't... did we?"

"no, himeno. you were black out drunk, y'know." you say in an obvious tone. she clicks her tongue and eats her food. you begin to eat as well. "did you take the medicine and drink the water i left on your bedside table?"

why were you acting so nice? she gripped her spoon tighter, stopping her movements as she swallows her food. "yes. you didn't have to do that." she thinks she would've preferred if you didn't. now she feels obligated to return the favour.

"it's nothing. i didn't want you to wake up so hungover again." you retort, looking to the ceiling.

she scans you and wonders how you could be so indecent in front of her when you were 'well-respected'. your underwear was showing, you weren't wearing any pants, your shirt was crinkled and loose hanging, your hair was a mess and you just look tired overall. this was not the pristine presentation he was used to.

you catch her staring. "sorry, do you want me to put on my pants? i couldn't find em around here." you admit, looking at the messy floor. himeno feels a little embarrassed at the mess but doesn't keep her eyes off you.

"no, it's fine." she retorts, feeling her eye patch before running her fingers through her hair, "don't you have a mission or something?"

you think for a second before putting down the bowl. "yeah, i think. later, makima wants me to check something out with her." you tell her, watching her roll her eyes, "what's wrong?"

"you in love with her too?" she scoffs.

"no?" you say, tilting your head, "she's my boss."

"oh." you'd be the first she'd hear doesn't like her. she sits up straight on her stool. "really?"

"yeah, really." you say as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, making himeno stop. you continue to eat your food. "i don't date superiors."

"right..." she mumbles back, confused. but you accidentally drop your spoon on the floor, making you curse quietly. she's never heard you swear, and she stares at you.

you lick your thumb, a little bit of sauce on it, before you turn to her with wide eyes. "ah, sorry, himeno. paper towels?"

she points to the cupboard and finishes her food, watching you clean up your mess. you're not really clumsy, she knows, so seeing you drop something was strange. you were usually moving so perfectly...

"you always like this?" she hums out, chin in her hand.

you put the towels in the bin and take your empty bowls (hers as well) and clean them. "i'm sorry, i live alone. so no one really sees me mess up." you admit.

himeno hates your voice. you don't speak much, but when you do, she's rolling her eyes. what you have to say is usually so inspiring to the other hunters, but she finds them cheesy. kobeni was brought to happy tears by what you said to her before a mission, which made himeno stop everyone and wait for kobeni to stop crying.

you're so high and mighty. everyone loves you and you try to be so mysterious. she never understood why everyone liked you, why everyone tolerated you when you don't do anything. maybe you're strong, stronger than aki and kishibe, but you were just praised so much that she hated you.

but seeing you now, all over the dishes and struggling to clean the things you used, it makes you feel more human to her. she watches you from the counter, hearing you curse to yourself as the dishwashing soap falls from your hand and into the soapy water. you turn to her to see if she saw. she did. you embarrassed yourself, and you sheepishly look away. she smiles. and stops as soon as she realises she is.

you were like some high school kid watching themselves around their crush. the way you glanced at her told her all she needed to know.

"i'm gonna go and change." she says, standing up from her stool and moving to her bedroom. she doesn't wait for your reply, but she heard a faint 'okay' from her room.

she didn't understand the change. admittedly, last night was the only time she's seen you outside of work hours, where no devils were there to stop you from being just you. you were sitting quietly, listening to everyone speak. you didn't know what to say.

after you finish the dishes, you try to clean up around the living room and kitchen. there were blankets and pillows all on the floor, maybe she was having a party or something. but you pick them up, fold them, put them in their place. and you finally find your pants, sliding them on happily.

you look for your belt under the couch when you hear someone clear their throat. looking up, you see himeno standing in her work attire with her arms crossed.

"hey, i'm looking for something, sorry." you say, standing up. she hands you your hoodie, which you plan on putting over your work shirt and tie. you just needed to find your belt and you would be set. "i'll be ready soon—oof!"

you fall onto the couch, on your back, as himeno moves forward and clambers over you. she gives you a pointed look as you stare up at her, feeling your face heating up. you gulp, one hand bracing the cushion of the couch, and the other hanging off the side. she's loosely straddling one of your thighs, hovering above you as her hand still on the sides of your head.

"h—himeno—"

"do you have a crush on me?" she interrupts you, tilting her head.

"what? that would be unprofessional, i—i couldn't..." you begin, losing your voice as you feel how close she is to you. your heart speeds up. "i'm sorry..."

"i knew it..." she huffs, leaning to the side a little. she scans your face, how your eyes stay on her. "you're terrible at hiding it."

"i'm sorry." you say, gulping. she was leaning closer, and you were getting nervous. "please don't hate me for it. we're partners."

"i bet you wish we were more." she jokes, gently grasping your chin so you look her dead in the eyes. you look like a poor deer in headlights. "i already hate you. everyone talks about how cool and how strong you are. and you suck it all in, go along with it. makes you feel better, doesn't it?"

"what?" you whisper out, blinking innocently.

"i hate people like you." she says, enjoying how you helplessly stared at her. you looked so hopeless — hopelessly in love with her. without a word more, she leans down and softly connects her lips with yours.

you hold your breath, keeping still as she kisses you. it was so out of the blue — didn't she say she hated you? you carefully move your free hand to the back of her neck, squeezing your eyes shut and missing her back eagerly.

her hand drops from your chin, dragging down to stop at your waist, holding you from there. your breathing hitches, and you pull away slightly to gasp. she catches your lips again, setting herself down to straddle you properly. she continues to kiss you as you sit up slightly, elbows bent to hold your weight.

you felt hot in the face, you knew you were embarrassing yourself by being such a klutz. but as her lips leave yours, you almost chase. himeno was an enchantress. you loved her smell, the sound of her voice, the way she walked. and here she was, saying how much she hated you.

"i—i thought you didn't like me." you huff out, sitting up straight to be face to face with himeno. your lidded eyes and dazed expression made her hold her breath for a moment. but, as if you've gathered your confidence, you begin to lean in again. "do... you not wan—"

"don't you have to meet up with makima?" she says, placing a hand on your chest and shoving you back to lay down again with a huff. she hops off your, moving to grab her shoes. "c'mon, before you're late and your amazing reputation is ruined."

you take a moment to gather yourself. your hair was even more messed up, and you stared at the roof with a heavy heart. it was beating fast, making you take in a deep breath and sit up, fixing your outfit and hair. you look behind you, seeing your belt underneath the pillow. after standing up and putting it on, you see himeno waiting for you.

she was leaning against the wall, watching you scramble to put your shoes on. she herself was wondering why she had kissed you too. you were always good-looking, but the way you acted pissed her off. did your prettiness really cloud her judgement.

she looks down to you sitting on the floor, struggling to tie your shoelaces. she chuckles.

no, she just met the real you today.

#hayakawa aki #hayakawa aki x reader #aki #aki x reader #kishibe #kishibe x reader #yoshida hirofumi #yoshida hirofumi x reader #yoshida #yoshida x reader #himeno #himeno x reader #chainsaw man #chainsaw man x reader #csm #csm x reader

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olderthannetfic · 3 months

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Getting this off my chest:

Back from a small fanfic hiatus, and I am absolutely flabbergasted by all of the fic authors now practically begging their readers to READ THE TAGS.

I’ve been seeing this warning written in summaries, in author’s notes, highlighted in all caps in the actual tags. I’ve read so many apologies written by authors in the comments in response to people chastising the author for writing what they wanted to write, for what they tagged correctly — for what essentially comes down to nothing more than having had other people actively ignore their tags or read despite them.

And there seems to be this bizarre, somehow largely accepted idea that it is the creators job and responsibility to beseech their readers to ‘use caution’ and to ‘stay safe’, to ‘be mindful of their health’…

I am beyond confused here.

Since when??? did exercising the most basic form of common sense and acknowledging one’s personal yeas and nays, likes and limitations, become some other random stranger’s burden rather than one’s own? And especially a random person who tagged their work correctly??? Does no one remember how to harness their own powers of discernment and self-regulation???

This little jaunt back onto ao3 has been unlike any that I’ve ever experienced before. What. Happened?????? Who is this new, apparently severely emotionally unstable and obstinately tags-reading resistant audience everyone has come to focus on?

It all feels so out of touch. The basic concept of ao3 is for the reader to seek out what they want, not what they don’t want. And to actually read. But there seems to have been an extremely strong shift away from reading. On ao3. A site built specifically for reading and writing. (And other fandom artistic pursuits, but not my focus, atm; though I’m sure whatever this is has crept steadily into all spaces there.)

Plummeting reading comprehension must be somewhat to blame; the popularity of fanfic amongst younger and wider audiences, as well. But… young people have always been there, as far as my own experiences go, and it was never like this. It’s as if too many readers don’t know how to make good or even practical decisions for themselves anymore, that they’ve lost the skill of choosing, and now believe that they must consume everything that passes before them; — that they have, for some reason, adopted the belief that any turmoil or dislike or discomfort felt within themselves is harm purposely being done to them by the author.

Idk. Idk, idk, idk. It’s just such a bummer to see how much nervousness and distress has entered the community. Authors notes and comments used to be hilarious fun, or a peek into someone else’s real-life world, used to be casual and full of personality, whereas nowadays, there seems to be an underlying hesitancy and distrust, a sort of growing divide between writers and readers, groups which, until recently, very much were not mutually exclusive.

Idiots have been around forever. The more you cater to them, the more entitled they get. It's best to shut that shit down fast and use no warnings that indicate a willingness to entertain stupid complaints.

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veltana · 8 months

Text

Groupie - Avengers!Bucky Barnes/Fan!Reader

✦ Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Reader ✦ Word count: ~3,6k ✦ Rating: Explicit ✦ Warnings: Avenger!Bucky, Avenger!Fan!Reader, secret crush, secret hero, fluff, smut, the tiniest bit of angst, misunderstandings, piv sex, breeding kink (I'm not messing around with this one), talk of getting reader pregnant, pet name (Bunny), dirty talk, sex with feelings, multiple orgasms (for both), unprotected sex, creampie. ✦ Summary: Since joining the Avengers you've been avoiding Bucky Barnes, afraid of what would happen if he ever learned the truth. ✦ Note: I have no idea how to tag this, so if I missed something please let me know. I don't know where this came from so just... it is what it is! This is also posted on AO3.

Masterlist | AO3

Stark called a meeting at the workshop in the evening to show off one of his new inventions that could aid them in the field. As you stand in the back and watch, Bucky comes up beside you, and just as always you discreetly take a small step to the side. Everyone, including Bucky, assumes you dislike him, and you are happy to keep up that front since admitting to the truth would be unprofessional and cause a lot more trouble than avoiding him.

He gives you a sideways glance but doesn’t mention it, he’s used to it by now. Unfortunately, you are still close enough to smell his cologne and it makes your pulse pick up. Unbidden images of being under him, smelling his sweat mixed with the perfume while he takes you apart appear inside your mind. Stark says something but you can’t concentrate with Bucky so close. Shifting even further to the side, he glances at you again and his brows draw together.

"I can go stand somewhere else if it bothers you so much," his tone is annoyed but low, to not disturb the demonstration. "No, it's fine," you mumble. "You forget I can hear your heart beating,” he points out. “And it sounds like a bunny rabbit backed into a corner by a wolf." That doesn't make you any calmer. If he can hear that, can he smell how aroused he makes you every time he gets close? "Sorry, I-" but your mouth has turned dry as a desert. You avoid speaking to Bucky as much as possible because you fear you will just make a fool out of yourself. As you’re doing right now.

"I never understood what you have against me," he crosses his arms, eyes on Stark's display. "Did I hurt someone close to you back in the day or are you afraid I'll revert and start killing again?" Shame fills your chest. You want to turn to him and hug him, explain that it’s not in any way like that. For years you have admired Bucky and when you had gotten the promotion to work with the Avengers your friends had teased you mercilessly about finally meeting your idol, but when you did and you realized that he was everything you had ever dreamed of you got scared. If he knew your secret he would most likely never speak to you again.

"It's not like that," you whisper, finally daring a look at him, but regretting it right away. His beautiful blue eyes are watching you. Quickly you avert your gaze. "You can't even look at me." And that is true. You always look at something else when Bucky is in the same room as you. The only time you allow yourself to admire him is when he's caught up in something else when there is no chance his attention will shift to you.

Just the small amount of it he is giving you right now is almost unbearable. You want to climb him, wrap your legs around his waist, grab his hair, and crush your lips to his. It's dangerous to be so close to him so you do the only thing you can. "I should go, I'm sorry," you mumble and turn on your heel, quickly exiting the workshop and heading for the elevators.

When you're inside your room you breathe a sigh of relief. That had been a close call. Your insides feel like melted ice cream and your knees get weak at remembering how he watched you. The only problem is that maybe you aren’t as smooth at avoiding him as you think, since he had noticed. You'd have to fix that somehow.

Kneeling at the side of your bed you reach in under it to pull out the box. It's discreet and if someone else found it they would probably assume it would be full of sex toys and the like. But a box full of toys would be mildly embarrassing compared to the actual content of the box.

Inside is a big photo book. Leaning against the bed frame you place it on your lap, opening it to the first page. You've tried to keep it in chronological order over the years and the first page contains a few news articles from the war where either the Howling Commandos or Bucky himself appear. You love to see how it starts with small mentions but then the articles grow bigger and bigger. It had been hard to track down some full spreads, not to mention expensive as fuck, and some things you were still saving up for.

Then there are the articles about the Winter Soldier. They needed to be in there, but you never read them. It was before anyone knew the truth about the mind control and the years of torture. The text described him as a killing machine with no morals, not caring who he hurt to get to his price. You quickly skip past those pages.

Your favorite part is the last bit of the album. Recent interviews and photoshoots with the super soldier, talking about his life and his struggles. Not to mention the stylists always made sure to show off his physic, be it suits or sportswear.

Inside the box are also a replica of his dog tags and the hat he'd worn with his uniform. Putting the tags over your head you play with them between your fingers, remembering how they look around his neck. In your previous apartment, they'd been hanging on the wall and your friends had joked about it being a shrine. Now you are too scared to have it on display. If someone sees it they will think you are insane.

You're startled from your musings by a knock on the door and without much thinking you put the book on the bed before opening it.

Bucky is standing on the other side. The demonstration must have ended. "What is your problem with me?" The words fail you as your heart starts hammering. He is too close, but if you back away he will probably take it as an invitation to come in and that would be disastrous. "I have barely spoken to you since you got here but you've managed to make it very clear how much you detest me. I just want to know why." He's annoyed and desperate at the same time. "Can I do something to fix it? I can't have a team member be afraid of me when we go out into the field and I… are those my dog tags?"

Ice rushes into your veins as you realize you forgot to take them off and you quickly cover them with your hand. "No," you lie. "They have my name on them." "No, they don't." "Are you serious?” Now he’s looking more mad. “Tell me what the fuck is going on right now."

You fucked up. You could keep on lying, close the door in his face, and never speak to him again. Ask for a transfer. Or you could show him. And then ask for a transfer. Because whatever you did you would not keep your job after this.

With trembling hands you open the door, releasing your hold on the dog tags and gesturing for him to come inside. "Sit," you murmur and when he does you place the book in his lap. He glances at you and for the first time you hold his gaze. This might be the last time you see him so you might as well take advantage of the moment. It will never happen again. "Open it."

As he hesitantly opens the first page you slip off the dog tags and place them into the box before sitting down too, with a decent amount of space between the two of you.

While he's occupied you study his face and try to commit it to memory. Bucky Barnes, in your room, on your bed, reading your album. It's a dream come true. Though you had hoped it would be after sex while you were still naked in bed, and you could take it out and show him. But this works too.

"This is extensive,” he sounds impressed and you hope he is. You wouldn’t say it’s your life's work but it’s something you worked hard on and is proud of. "I know." "When did you do this?" He looks at you. You shrug in response, "Over the years." "Years?" "I started it when I was in my early twenties.” "How did you find everything?" "The internet can be a wonderful place with like-minded people." "I can't imagine what it could have cost you." "I prefer not to think about it," you laugh.

He glances down into the box and then bends down to pick up the hat. "Please tell me this isn't the original one." "Oh god no, it's a replica!" "Can I try it?" "Please do!" Bucky puts the hat on, tips it to the side, and turns to you with a smile. It's impossible to not smile back when he looks so handsome. "Still fits you." "Feels odd. We used to wear them all the time, but I guess I've gotten used to a life without hats." He removes it and puts it back into the box before picking up the dog tags.

"I have a feeling you don't have these things because you hate me." "I don't hate you, it's quite the opposite." "Then why keep avoiding me?" You twist in your spot uncomfortably, not knowing what to say. "It's embarrassing. I never thought I would actually get to meet you when I started this collection." "I honestly feel honored. I'm not usually the person people think it's worth remembering." You tilt your head, "I do." "I can see that."

For a moment you look at each other and you get to experience what it feels like to drown in his eyes. Those blue magical pools that you've only ever studied on printed paper or through a screen. It could never compare to the real thing. Fearing you're going to say something more stupid you take the book from him. "So now you know," you say. "If you want me to transfer I'll happily put in a request. You were never meant to see it and I understand if it makes you uncomfortable around me." "No, that won't be necessary," he assures you. "But there is one thing I still don't get."

When you look up from your lap he's moved much closer. Too close again. His presence fills your senses in a way no one else has ever done. "What?" your voice almost cracks. "Why do you move away as soon as I get close?" His voice is low, as if not to scare you. With a wobbly laugh, you put the book down in between you and Bucky, scooting a bit away, studying the bedsheets.

"As you're doing now." "It's just, I like my personal space," you explain. "And you won't look at me." A single finger lands under your chin and tilt your head towards him. He's touching you. Bucky Barnes is touching you.

"Are you sure you aren't scared, Bunny?" "Ye-yeah," you swallow. "Because I think your heart is about to burst out of your chest." He moves the book out of the way and slides right up to you, until his leg is pressed against yours. The finger is still holding you in place, craning your neck to look at him. Your body flushes with heat. Now he's really touching you. "So what is it then?" There is a teasing in his voice, as if he knows but he wants to hear you say it.

Your tongue wet your dry lips and his focus shifts to that for a second. Opening your mouth to give him an answer, nothing comes out, not even the truth. "Bunny, you better answer me."

Finally, you find your voice. "I'm scared I won't be able to control myself," you confess. "And what would happen if you lost control?"

You close your eyes. You can't look at him when you speak. "I'll drop to my knees and beg to suck your cock." Bucky inhales sharply. "Or climb into your lap and beg you to fuck me. I'd let you do anything to me just to get a small taste. I'd ask you to use my body as you wanted and I won't need anything in return." "Fuck, Bunny. You have a dirty mind." "Sorry, I can't help that you smell so good and look so hot, it's too much."

His finger on your chin changes to a grip and you open your eyes, meeting his. They're filled with greed for something you don't understand. "You'd let me fuck you?" "Yes" "How about coming inside you?" "God yes!" "When was the last time you had tests done?" "Maybe a month ago? They were clean." "Any partner since then? Are you on birth control?" You hesitate for a moment. "Bunny?" "No… to both" Bucky laughs. "You would let me breed you, Bunny? Fuck you raw until you're bursting with my cum?"

The moan slips out unbidden. Just the thought of his raw dick inside you. Playing pregnancy roulette. It makes you so hot. "Yes, I would Bucky."

"Take off your clothes, lay on your back." You stare at him. "Is something unclear?" "You? And me? You want to have sex with me?" Something crosses over Bucky's face. "You don't have to." He reassures you. "No! I want to! I just… I never thought you'd want to. With me." "Well, you're wrong. And if you want to with me you better do as you're told."

Scrambling to take off your clothes you watch Bucky as he stands up and slowly starts doing the same. He's only gotten his shirt off by the time you're naked. "Spread your legs, let me see."

You pull your knees up and let them fall to the side. The stickiness from your arousal has already coated the inside of your thighs. You're sure you've never been this wet before in your life.

"Bunny's got a cute little pussy on her." Bucky's smile is predatory like he is an actual white wolf stalking its prey. He's down to his boxers now, his erection outlined through the cotton. It's big. "Don't look scared, we'll make it fit, I promise."

When his boxers are off too you can't help but stare but you’re more excited than anything else. The pulse in your cunt doesn't care if it’s going to hurt, there is only one thing on your mind. "I want your cock Bucky," you tell him. "Don't worry, you'll get it." He crawls on top of you, keeping his weight on his forearms and his body off of yours. "But I'm going to kiss you first."

His lips are soft but his kiss is demanding. It leaves no room for hesitation that he doesn't want you. Quickly he works your mouth open and moans when his tongue finds yours. You put your hands in his hair, guiding him to where you want his mouth. Then he descends your body, nipping at your jaw, sucking on your neck before finding your breasts. One hand is warm and the other is cold as he presses them together, caressing the nipples with his thumbs, making you keen and shudder. He uses his mouth to pull more sounds from you, licking, sucking, and dragging his teeth lightly against the stiff peaks, until your naked pelvis bucks up against his upper body, trying to find friction for the need he causes in you.

"You need something, Bunny?" "I need you to fuck me!" "It would be better for you if you come first." "No, I need it now! Stretch me with your cock Bucky, please I need it so bad!"

In a second he's kissing you again, feverishly, and this time he lets his body sink down on yours, his thick shaft brushing your wet center, making both of you shudder. Bucky reaches down and uses his hand to guide the tip to your opening. "Tell me if it hurts and we'll stop." "Promise." You relax into the bed, spreading your legs, and watch Bucky's face as he pushes into you.

He's big, but you're also incredibly wet. Your body slowly gives for his intrusion. There is a slight sting but it quickly turns into pleasure as he fills you. "So big!" you moan and experimentally move against him. "Fuck, Bunny, this is the tightest pussy I fucking ever felt. You're going to be the death of me." "Make me come first, then you can die." With a grunt, he pulls back and pushes in, carefully to get you used to him, but it’s not what you want or need.

"Move, please move. Fuck me Bucky!" you beg and he does. Not in your wildest fantasies could you predict this sensation. So full. So good. Bucky groaning above you. His warm skin under the palms of your hands. The sound of your arousal mixing with the sound of skin meeting skin.

"I'm already leaking into your cunt Bunny. It feels so good." "Yes, Bucky!" "Did you know I have almost zero recovery time? I just need a quick breather after coming before I can go again." With a moan, you wrap your legs around him. "I'm going to fill you with so much cum you'll be drunk on it." He leans down until he's right by your ear.

"I'll breed you all night long. And I'll continue to do it every night until you're pregnant." "Bucky!" "You fucking like that, I can feel how tight you get!"

Shaking your head you try to deny it, but carrying his baby would be the ultimate fantasy. "Please make me full of you! I want a baby Bucky. Make me fucking pregnant with our child!"

"Dirty! Fucking! Mind!" He says through gritted teeth, punctuating every word with a particularly hard thrust. "More!" You cry as the pressure inside you builds. Bucky quickly sits up on his knees, grabbing your hips, pulling you onto his dick as he thrusts inside you. "Yes! Yes! Yes!" you chant. "Make me come, Bucky! Please! More!"

"Bunny!" he warns. "You better fucking come before me, I can't hold it with your tight cunt squeezing me like that!" Desperately you start rubbing your clit and a moment later everything explodes through your body. With an unearthly wail, you find your release and Bucky quickly follows, cursing and roaring while he pumps you full.

The world is unsteady for a moment but then it rights itself. Bucky's head is thrown back as he heaves in lungfuls of air and you're no better where you're lying. He's not soft inside you yet and maybe he won't even go down.

"That was…" you begin but then shake your head with a stupid smile on your lips. "Better than you thought it would be?" He asks. "A million times better." "Good because we're not done." He releases your hips to once again lean down over you, kissing you much softer this time, moving his hips slower. It makes you keen into his mouth with the delicious stretch and the wetness of his release adding to the feeling. It leaks onto the sheets as he fucks you but you don't mind. At the end of all this, your sheets will probably need to be burned.

"Bunny, fuck, Bunny, look at me," Bucky demands and you do. He's close enough that you share a breath. "So fucking pretty. My little groupie." Despite the situation you laugh. "Aren't you?" "Absolutely Bucky, I'm your groupie." "Only mine?" "Of course! I don't have any more boxes under the bed." "Good." He rests his head at the crook of your neck, his hot breath ticking your skin and you close your eyes and enjoy the feeling of him surrounding you. Soon another orgasm works its way through your body. You don't scream this time, instead, you whisper in his ear how fucking good it feels, how he's filling you so well, and how you want him to breed you.

Moments later Bucky bursts inside you for the second time. He takes a minute before he rolls the two of you over so you're on top. The strength in your body is nearly gone but Bucky's serum keeps him going. And he keeps his promise. All through the night, he fills you and by the time the sun starts rising, he pulls one last weak orgasm from you before stopping.

"So fucking pretty," he muses as he spreads you open to watch the cum run out of you, before pushing some of it back in with his fingers, making you whine. With a chuckle, he wipes it off on the sheets, and then looks around. "I don't think we can sleep in this bed, Bunny. Where's your pajamas?" It's a miracle you're still awake but you point to the clothes on the chair. Bucky finds you some underwear and dresses you, before carrying you to his room. There he makes you take a shower but afterward, he doesn't let you get dressed again. "I need your skin against mine," he says as he spoons you.

Several hours later you wake up, sore but in the best way. The bed is empty and you must have slept through Bucky waking up. With a giggle, you roll onto your back and that's when you feel something around your neck. Confused, you look down and find his dog tags against your bare skin. The smile on your face must be really stupid as you fiddle with them between your fingers. Who could have known meeting your hero would turn out like this?

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes smut #avengers!bucky barnes #avengers!bucky barnes x avengers!reader #veltana writes

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luocha-lovr · 2 months

Text

⌗ of slick and cream。

❛ OR :: how the hsr men get when they're eating pussy.

❛ CONTAINS :: afab! reader; no fem pronouns used but feminine pet names and genitalia are used. food play; usage of whipped cream. oral sex; they eat your pussy out! love that for you. cum play; eating his own cum. MINORS DNI but if you're a minor and choose to read anyway, that's on you.

GEPARD 杰帕德 - from behind. food play.

It's known among most people of Belobog that the Captain of the Silvermane Guards has an aversion for sweets. The man maintains a strict diet to maintain his form, always on the lookout for any more danger since the Trailblazers left Jarilo-VI— that meant sugar was out of the deal. It's a lot easier for him to deal with since he dislikes sweets so much.

Somehow, however, he finds himself overindulging in it today.

"Aeons, love," he groans, the rasp in his voice making your pussy wetter, warmer for him to feast on and enjoy. "Such a sweet girl. So wet and sweet."

With the way he tugs you closer by the hips, his nose right between those cheeks and his mouth working overtime to not let a single drop of your slick go to waste, it almost feels like you're the one celebrating their birthday instead of him. Just hearing him slurp you up like that, large calloused hands parting your ass cheeks to give him the best view of you possible— the man was only doing what you asked; to claim his birthday present.

Even better was the globs of cold whipped cream atop each cheek, decorating your little body with even more sweetness. The cream's all but melted now, and Gepard takes a small break just to bite on the flesh of your ass, making sure not to miss the cream.

"Baby," you gasp quietly, your sopping cunt given a moment to relax as he fixates himself on your ass for the time being. There's a certain thrill to being unable to see him as he eats you out like this. Maybe next time you could ask him to tie you up. A subtle whine is clear in the way you call his name that Gepard could never say no to, and he lifts his head to meet your eyes, finding that you were looking back at him.

Your gaze shifts to the bedside table and his gaze follows suit. There sits a can of whipped cream— and though the thought of so much sugar appalls him, it's almost as if his body was in autopilot. Before you know it, there's a cold sensation on your folds and the sound of cream spraying fills your ears. Gepard could hardly believe the sight in front of him.

How is your cunt so slick? Did he do that to you? It's the hottest thing in the world, to see you decorated like this. All he knew at this moment was that this pussy is all for him, so there was no way he was gonna be stingy with that cream.

ARGENTI 银枝 - body worship. implied chubby reader.

What's a Knight of Beauty to do when faced with beauty so unparalleled that he's brought to his knees?

Argenti's devotion to The Beauty has led him to travel from planet to planet in search of the goddess he so loved. Who would have thought a night in Penacony would lead his faith to waver?

Being able to see such features up close is a blessing he'd never gotten to experience with Idrila. The Aeon was gone, after all, and not even he knows how long he's been searching for her— and perhaps such time searching for someone who does not wish to be found is time wasted.

His gaze is almost feverish, cheeks scarlet as his hair at the sight of the wetness between your legs. Each thigh, so pudgy and soft, is supported by his hands as he keeps you steady. By no means did you tower over him— but that's only when both of you are standing. With him on his knees like this, all devotion to Idrila becomes nearly nonexistent.

"You sure are taking your time down there," you tease him, and Argenti swears he's never leaving Penacony at this rate. Your voice was seductive back at the club, but the intimacy of a private hotel suite brings out a more sultry tone in you, making his mouth water.

His hands and lips wander, up and up until he's reached your inner thighs where his greatest prize lies. "Beauty is meant to be appreciated with great care, not to be handled with impatience, my rose," he quips in return. You could see his eyes sparkle under the golden lights, and he continues with the heat of his breath just inches away, "May I?"

A nod from you and he's licking a stripe up your cunt, moist from anticipation. The shiver that runs down your spine is familiar yet new all the same, for not many men have treated you with such careful caresses. Your fingers find purchase on his vermilion locks as he eats you out, slowly, intimately, as if to tell you that it's you who he's now devoted to.

"Goodness," he all but chuckles when you tug on his hair. Perhaps this is where his voyage among the stars has been leading him all along. One swift movement is all he needs, and now your leg is hoisted upon his shoulder, providing him a better view and taste of you.

The only thing a man should do with beauty that brings him down to his knees should be to worship and praise, Argenti supposes, and that's a promise for future encounters with you.

LUOCHA 罗刹 - cum eating. non-canon event. implied unprotected sex.

For a wandering merchant such as Luocha, there was no such thing as home, no such thing as permanence. Each world offers different things, different people that coax him to stay, though with little to no success. There were items interesting enough to sell, but never enough to make him never want to leave again.

Settling down has never crossed the mind of a merchant such as he who has yet to see more of the stars, but the closest thing to a home he had was the first person to welcome him upon stepping inside the Astral Express. To be precise, it was between your thighs where he felt he was most at home.

"We've to get this all out, don't we, my love?" he asks in a mirthful chuckle, the sight of your sopping cunt dripping with his cum completely mesmerizing him. Your shaky breath and quivering legs, the sheen of sweat on your thighs—

Just how do you expect him to hold back when his love has finally returned from their expedition?

Each drag of his fingers against your walls is agonizingly slow, almost teasing as if to coax another orgasm out of you after you'd just had one nearly five seconds ago. The globs of cum that come pouring out of you is a sight that gets him going again, but he holds back knowing you're sore. One day, though, perhaps he'd like to test out how much Himeko and Pom-pom have soundproofed the Express' rooms.

In a matter of seconds, Luocha's sure he's scooped out most of his cum from you, creating a little puddle on the bed as you pant before him. Pregnancy was likely, but he wasn't unprepared for it. With what he supposes is a final gesture, a final pump of his fingers inside you, he manages to coax another moan out of those pretty lips.

"Luo," you whine, the discomfort clear in the wrinkle of your brows. Perhaps he'd gone too hard. The man only chuckles, unapologetic as he brings his fingers to his mouth for a quick taste of both you and him. He leans down, muttering comforting mantras of I know, baby and gentle shushing.

He wastes no time, leaving gentle kisses on your soaked pussy. Such a pretty little thing, he can't help but run his tongue across the mixture of both his cum and yours. A taste so appetizing he can't help but get drunk on it. Each time you try to wiggle away, he only pulls you closer— and you take it anyway; those loving kisses, soothing licks, and the lingering caresses of a man who's been gone for too long.

Luocha likes that, likes that you take him so well, likes that your pussy gushes with each flick of his tongue on your clit. He missed you, and you missed him, so it's unlikely he'll be stopping anytime soon.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ISH's notes ::

📌 i wrote this at work thinking i wanted a man to eat me out under my table while i was doing paperwork. maybe i'll write abt that next time. 💀

📌 working on a taglist so just hmu if you wanna be tagged. looking for moots to support each other too im BEGGING.

ish | 2024. no plagiarizing, reworking, or reposting this work on other sites.

#ᯓᡣ𐭩 lovr's #honkai star rail #hsr #hsr gepard #gepard landau #gepard x reader #hsr argenti #argenti #argenti x reader #hsr luocha #luocha #luocha x reader #hsr x reader #gepard x you #argenti x you #luocha x you

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ohbo-ohno · 8 months

Text

Kinktober Day 25 - Human Furniture

Ghost x Price - 1.8k (on ao3)

summary: Price helps Ghost settle after a hard mission.

cw: person used as an ashtray

note: this is the least sexual of this month's prompts! there's actually no sexual acts in this at all, it's more of a sort of study of a priceghost dynamic i enjoy :) definitely inspired by this comic

“Settle,” Price rumbles quietly, watching the way Simon shudders and forces himself still, muscles trembling.

He’s not quite used to the sight of Simon so submissive beneath him, such a large powerhouse of a man gone soft between his feet. You’d never think it, looking at them, but uncertainty still hovers in the back of John’s head every time he has Simon like this.

It’s taken them a while to reach this tentative understanding, for Simon to be even slightly open about what he needs. Price isn’t sure either of them could really put it into words, this odd sort of dynamic they’ve developed, but it works.

As best he can describe, it’s like this - Ghost needs a handler, someone he can trust blindly to always point his aggression in the right direction. But Simon struggles to trust, to give up any bit of control he doesn’t have to.

So Price takes it from him.

It’s an odd sort of dynamic, he’s well aware, and it only works because on some deep level Simon wants it to work. That’s the thrill for John - the knowledge that at any moment Simon could hurt him, could probably kill him, but he won’t because he knows that nobody else can help him control himself like Price

It’s a responsibility he doesn’t take lightly. Ghost is probably the most dangerous soldier he’s ever met - ever will meet, if he’s lucky - and he’d slit his fellow soldiers; throat without question if John gave him a reason to. That kind of power isn’t given for long if the receiver is a fool, and while Price is a lot of things - ornery, strict, bull-headed - no one could call him a fool.

Price knows that Simon accepts their dynamic, but he plays at disliking it sometimes, almost like a test. Trying to see if Price will put his foot down when Ghost needs it, see if he can stretch the boundaries he’s been given.

He can’t. Price has no problem reestablishing which one is freshly Captain and which one is still Sergeant when it’s needed. And after a few weeks, the little tests phase out. Price can’t help but feel like he’s passed a test once he realizes.

Ghost is volatile still, even months into their shifted dynamic, but he rarely lashes out against John anymore. The mask had helped, being under Price’s hand helped more, but there are still moments when he slips, where he needs more help than he realizes.

Which is what led to their current situation.

Simon had come back from a mission relatively uninjured - a few bruises, a few scrapes, but nothing he had even needed a medic for. But the Lieutenant he’d been lent out to had done a number on him mentally.

Part of the source of Simon’s inner turmoil is his own constant war between the desire to be a good soldier and his inability to trust. It leaves him short-tempered and aggressive around unsure COs. He’s a bit like a dog being retrained - he knows when his superiors are weak, and he knows they have no right pretending to be above him.

It’s hard to lead successful missions when the Sergeant spends the entire deployment glaring and intimidating the Lieutenant. It’s even harder when the intimidation works, and the power structure crumbles.

Simon always comes back unsure after missions like that. He comes to Price, snarling and biting, looking for reassurance in the power structure. Looking for affirmation that Price is still his superior, that he’s still his leader.

It’s what he’d come home needing today.

The mission had been rough - a Lieutenant just promoted never knew how to handle Ghost, and this one had been no different - and John could see it in every line of Simon’s body as soon as he’d come knocking.

Neither of them had said a word as Price opened his office door enough to let Simon in, then closed and locked it behind him. He lights a cigar as he watches Ghost move, taking a long puff from it.

Simon stands at parade between the two guest chairs he’s forced to have in the office, and after a few moments Price moves back to his desk, settling back into his seat and folding his hands on the table.

He watches Simon for a few long moments, takes a puff of his cigar. The soldier’s not quite still, his shoulders trembling from pent up energy and his knees locked. His jaw is clenched so tightly, Price wouldn’t be shocked if he’s managed to crack a tooth.

“Debrief, Sergeant,” he finally commands, voice hard and leaving no room for debate. Simon’s shoulder’s stop twitching as he starts to speak, relaxing into a less straining position.

There’s nothing of note to be reported, really. Ghost isn’t the type of man to stand and rave about what’s really bothering him, he wouldn’t make anything that easy. He tells the story as it happened and leaves Price to pick up the hints he drops.

They’re easy to spot this time - unnecessary civilian casualty, a close call with a fellow Sergeant, a flustered Lieutenant and their absolute refusal to listen to any of Ghost’s suggestions. It’s nothing he hasn’t dealt with before. But that doesn’t matter - for whatever reason, this mission and this CO on this night has dragged Ghost to the very brink of shattering.

And Price won’t let that happen. Not when Simon has placed so much faith in him, not when he needs to prove to himself that he can take care of his men.

Simon’s nearly panting when he finishes his debrief, the stress working him up all over again. John knows he has to work quickly, or things will spiral.

“Good, Sergeant,” he praises, leaning back in his chair and planting his feet wide. “Now strip.”

The relief is palpable. It’s taken them a long time for Ghost to reach such a comfortable point, and Price can’t help the surge of pride at the way Simon almost eagerly takes his clothes off. He’s a good boy, even remembers to fold his uniform when he sets it on the coffee table.

Price taps his right foot twice and pushes his chair back from the desk a bit, the boot loud against his hardwood floor, and takes a long drag. Simon is on his knees between John’s feet in the next heartbeat.

He hums a pleased note, nodding down at Simon. Even just that tiny bit of praise coaxes a bit more tension out of his frame, leaving him angled towards Price instead of kneeling straight. He debates within himself for a moment, then decides to drop a heavy hand onto Simon’s head, stroking slowly over the fabric.

He’s still got the mask on, but Price doesn’t make any move to take it off. He knows the fabric isn’t a barrier between the two of them, more a safety net holding all of his pieces together.

John would collect those pieces if Simon dropped them, but he would never take them from him. He’s the one who gave Ghost the mask, he’d never take it away.

He considers his plan of action for a few long moments. With each breath, each pull, each slow stroke over his head, Simon relaxes a bit more. It’s soothing for John too, this physical evidence that he knows how to take care of what’s his. Calming in a way little else is in their line of work.

“You’re a good soldier, Simon,” Price finally says. “Sometimes too good, I think. Makes it difficult to stop sometimes, doesn’t it?”

Simon pants, nodding and leaning further into Price’s hand. “Yes, sir.”

“Hmm, I know. You’re alright, boy, deep breaths now.”

He listens, and a few moments later relaxes further. Simon’s body slumps to the side a bit, leaning his weight onto Price’s leg. It’s difficult to not jerk away, but John plants his foot and tenses his muscle so he doesn’t send Simon sprawling. If the Sergeant notices how hard his thigh is, it doesn’t seem to bother him.

“I think you need to stop being a soldier for a bit, yeah?” Price asks, shifting his hand to lift Simon up by the chin. He moves slowly, tugging the mask up until it rests on the bridge of his nose. Ghost flinches a bit at the air against his skin, and John hushes him, stroking over his jaw.

If they were different people - or even just further into their dynamic - Price might slip his cock down Ghost’s throat. Push him down until his lips meet John’s stomach, hold him there for a few hours while he gets some work done. He thinks it would be good for Simon, to have a mindless task he can succeed in.

But they haven’t reached that point. Price isn’t sure if they ever will, if they ever should, so he contents himself with an alternative.

“Tongue out for me, Simon,” he says, putting a bit of a command into his voice. It’s not necessary - Simon’s mouth opens, pink tongue coming out to rest on his lip immediately. “Good boy,” Price praises, stroking a thumb down the muscle.

“Stay still for me, now.”

He takes the cigar from the corner of his lips, presses the glowing bud to the center of Simon’s wet tongue. He doesn’t react much past a grunt and some tension returning to his muscles.

“You’re alright,” John dismisses, tightening his grip on the soldier’s jaw and pushing the cigar a bit further in, twisting it. He knows Simon, knows he needs to feel this pain, needs to feel it from John.

Simon whimpers when he finally takes the cigar away, pushing his tongue a little further out.

“I know, you’re alright. Good boy, Simon. Relax for me, now,” he comforts, stroking a thumb over his chin while he leans forward to set the now useless stick on his desk. “You make a good ashtray, boy. Just stay down there and relax for me, you’re alright. I’ll let you go in a bit.

He shifts back into his seat, staring down at Ghost for a few moments.

His tongue still rests on his chin, a little drop of spit dripping down the center, right down the ring of soot left behind. His eyes are clear but his pupils are blown, like he’s still here but his emotions are trying to drag him away.

Simon shifts on his knees, tongue twitching like he wants to take it back into his mouth.

“Settle,” Price rumbles. Simon exhales loudly and obeys, shifting back to his knees. “Tongue out, come on. Might need to use it again.”

He smiles when Simon obeys without question, gives him a comforting pet to the head and an approving hum.

Price shifts closer to the desk, locking Simon more securely beneath him, and lights a cigar. He’s got a few hours of paperwork to catch up on, and he knows Simon can last far longer than that using an ashtray.

He takes a deep breath, settles himself, and gets to work. The cigar smoke fills his lungs, and Simon breaths deeply beneath him. Price feels centered, steady, as he picks up his pen and starts reading.

#kinktober 25 #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #simon ghost riley x john price #call of duty fanfic #cod fanfic #ghostprice #priceghost #ghost x price #ghost x john price #simon riley x john price #bo writes

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zegrvshvghes · 1 year

Note

enemies to lovers with vince dunn? 👀

I crave you in the most innocent form-VD29

💙 a good enemies to lovers + vince and you are in university for the plot!

I've never been the kind of person to hold a grudge. I'm usually pretty easygoing and quick to forgive, but there's one person in my life who I just can't seem to get along with: Vince Dunn.

When Vince and I first met, I actually thought he was kind of cute. He had messy brown hair and these piercing blue eyes that seemed to look right through me. But as soon as he opened his mouth, I knew it was never going to work between us.

It started off small, with little jabs and sarcastic comments. But over time, our interactions grew more and more hostile. We were constantly bickering and arguing, and I could feel the tension between us every time we were in the same room.

Part of the problem is that Vince is just so arrogant. He thinks he's better than everyone else and doesn't hesitate to let you know it. He's always bragging about his achievements and talking down to those he thinks are below him. And for some reason, he seems to have a particular dislike for me.

I'm not sure what I ever did to him. Maybe it was something I said or did without even realizing it. But whatever the reason, Vince has made it clear that he can't stand me. He'll roll his eyes every time I speak and make snarky comments under his breath. And when we're forced to work together on a project or assignment, he'll intentionally sabotage my efforts just to make me look bad.

I've tried talking to him about it, but he just brushes me off like I'm not even worth his time. I've even considered going to a teacher or counselor for help, but I don't want to seem like a tattletale. Plus, I'm embarrassed that I can't seem to get along with someone who is supposedly my peer.

I sometimes wonder if Vince's hostility towards me is actually a cover-up for something else. Maybe he's struggling with issues at home or has some personal insecurities he's trying to hide. But then I see him acting perfectly normal and friendly with other people, and I realize that it's just me he can't stand.

It's not like I hate Vince, per se. I just can't stand the way he treats me. It's frustrating to constantly be on the receiving end of his animosity and to have no idea why he dislikes me so much. I try my best to ignore him and just focus on my own work, but it's hard when he's always there, lurking in the background and waiting for a chance to make some snide remark.

I sometimes wonder what it would be like if Vince and I could actually get along. Maybe we could even be friends. But I know that's never going to happen. There's just too much animosity between us, and I don't know how to bridge the gap.

As much as I hate to admit it, Vince's negative attitude towards me has started to dampen my own spirits. I find myself feeling irritated and angry more often, and sometimes I even snap at other people who don't deserve it. I don't like feeling this way, but I don't know how to shake it off.

I never thought I'd see the day where I could tolerate being around Vince Dunn, let alone willingly attend a party with him. But as fate would have it, that day came sooner than I expected.

It started when we were paired up for a group project in our English class. At first, I was dreading it. I couldn't bear the thought of being stuck with Vince for an extended period of time. But as we got to work on the project, I started to notice something different about him.

He wasn't as hostile towards me as he used to be. In fact, he was actually being sort of civil. He even cracked a few jokes that made me laugh. It was like he was a different person entirely.

I still didn't entirely trust him, but something had shifted in our dynamic. We were no longer constantly bickering and arguing. It was almost...pleasant.

We finished the project with minimal sniping, and I couldn't help but feel like maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for us to get along.

Fast forward to the party. I wasn't even considering going, but a mutual friend of ours convinced me to come along. When I arrived, I was surprised to see Vince there as well. He was hanging out with a group of guys, laughing and joking around.

I couldn't help but feel nervous as I saw Vince at the party. I knew he had been avoiding me lately, but I hoped that maybe tonight we could finally talk things out.

I saw him standing there with his arms crossed, glaring at me and the guy I was with. I could feel the tension in the air and my heart sank.

I knew I had to talk to him, to explain that the guy I was with was just a friend. But as soon as I tried to approach him, he turned his back on me, refusing to even acknowledge my presence.

It hurt to see him like this. He was acting like I had committed some kind of crime.

I tried to enjoy the party, but every time I looked over at Vince, I could see the anger in his eyes. I could tell he was angry, but I didn't know how to make it better.

I wanted to speak to him and possibly become friends maybe? but he was too angry and stubborn to listen. And I didn't know what else to do.

Stepping out onto the porch to get some fresh air. I sit down quietly, drunk and busy with my thoughts. I hear the door slide open again.

The face that’s been playing non stop in my brain appears. As Vince and I found ourselves on the porch, alone. We were both slightly tipsy, and all of a sudden I found myself feeling a strange attraction towards him. It was like I was seeing him in a whole new light.

He must have felt it too, because before I knew it, we were making out on the porch. It was messy and clumsy, but it felt...right.

I woke up the next morning feeling both relieved and terrified. I had just kissed the guy Im supposed to hate and I wasn't sure where it was going to take us.

Surprisingly, the next day in class it was like all the hostility between us had been replaced by something else. Something warmer and deeper.

#hockey #nhl #kraken #vince dunn #x reader #vince dunn x reader

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itsabouttimex2 · 1 month

Note

LSO AU sounds really interesting! Are we allowed to ask questions about AUs or does it count as a request?

Hi, thank you for asking! Questions are always allowed, even when requests are closed! I’ll elaborate on Let’s Start Over a little bit!

After his own journey ends and MK has his own story penned and published, peace settles across Megapolis and the world in general.

He’s even got himself a new title- “Monkie Knight”, after years of working for the king.

MK still steps in to ward off greater threats and more serious demons, but mostly steps back and attends to the noodle shop with Pigsy, who’s just about ready to pass the keys to his son and maybe take up a more casual lifestyle of teaching instead of serving. Maybe a YouTube channel where he teaches basic skills and recipes to viewers. Tang comes in to both expand on the history of what Pigsy is cooking and to taste test the end result. As expected, he adores the food each time.

Things are okay.

There’s trauma and bitterness that MK needs to work through, but… things are alright. With time, they’ll get better.

And then you come around to the shop one day to visit, right as the Ruyi Jingu Bang comes toppling down from where it’s been set- and you catch it.

So starts your journey.

Our golden-hearted hero is a little soured now, having been thrust into dangerous fights again and again. He’s somewhat resentful to certain individuals-

Mei, for not fighting beside him more often, in spite of her combat prowess and draconic powers. He gets a little twitchy when she’s around, thinking of all the fun she had off on her motorcycle, all the live-streams she giggled and joked her way through. MK doesn’t hate her. Not in a million years. Never. But damn if there’s not some bitterness. He’ll still ask her to ‘babysit’ you when he needs to go off and fight.

Though he still cares about Sandy as a friend, MK has shifted his perspective to disliking the river demon’s pacifistic outlook, viewing it as naive and somewhat selfish. He still goes over to paint and have tea, but things are somewhat strained between the two. It’s easy for someone like Sandy, a side-liner, to say “I’m not fighting anymore!” but MK never had that chance. Given that he was in his mid-teens during the start of his journey in this AU, the hero finds it messed up that he had to fight, but an honest to goodness ex-soldier chose not to. Again, no hatred. Things are just a little tense.

Macaque is pretty far down on his shitlist, actually. MK has taken some time to think on the simian’s actions and kinda wishes he had just let Wukong pummel him to death. Most of these feelings relate to their first meeting, but him assaulting Tang and attacking Mei certainly haven’t helped. Or his unnecessary destruction of the Dragon Palace of the East Sea. Or his refusal to apologize. Yeah, this guy doesn’t get to come anywhere near you. MK will act civil because he does believe in redemption and second chances, but dear lord is it hard.

(And he massively regrets the “you aren’t a bad guy” speech he gave to Macaque. Looking back on it, MK thinks he was naively seeing goodness where it didn’t exist.)

And of course, Sun Wukong, for… a lot of things. He talks rather bitterly of his mentor, viewing the Great Sage as irresponsible and rather immature. He wishes there had been more effort and care in the monkey’s teaching, and less “you can handle this”. There’s still some genuine respect and gratitude for the simian, but MK majorly fixates on being ‘different’ in his own mentorship. Problem is…

He’s choosing to be different instead of better.

Wukong had genuine and honest belief in MK, enough to let him handle trouble on his own. The Great Sage didn’t step in not out of laziness, but because he knew that the kid could handle things on his own. Sure, he was way too secretive and hands-off, but his intentions were only ever to help MK grow.

So when he decides to be entirely opposite to Wukong, our newly titled ‘Knight’ becomes a massive roadblock for you. Instead of cutting you loose with confidence, MK is stifling and protective. He’ll fight for you, cook for you, tend to your wounds, etc. Wukong tried to let MK grow without any form of safety net, but MK refuses to allow any growth without complete safety, which is rare.

Instead of being a mentor who’s trying to build you into the best you that you can be, he’s trying to be a father.

And honestly? Sometimes, he’s so good at the act that you wish it were real.

#Platonic Yandere #Yandere Lego Monkie Kid #Yandere LMK #Let’s Start Over #MK

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genshin-side-piece · 5 months

Text

Margarita Iudicis

Here's me, going through my works in progress to see what's really done and what's not. This one was supposed to be longer, but I ran out of steam on it. I may come back to it, I may not.

Warnings: Yandereish Content, Implied Stalking, No Pronouns are used for the reader, but it was writter with a Fem aligned reader in mind, my bad writing, anything else I missed, Nothing Explicit, SFW

The Iudex of Fontaine has many responsibilities when it comes to the nation. He manages the court. He oversees all of the nation's administrative affairs. He leads the Marechaussee Phantom. All of them are as important as they are dull, but his consistency in carrying through on his duty is something to be admired. His commitment had won him much praise from the citizens. They viewed him as a bastion of both propriety and justice. In the nation’s eyes, Neuvillette was honorable, reliable, but also boring. He didn’t possess the same flash and pizzazz as his counterpart, Furina. To many, that was a blessing. The Chief Justice of Fontaine didn’t need to be flashy. He didn’t need sparkle and flash to wow the crowds. He need only do his job fairly, that was enough.

One of Neuvillette’s more famous and rather frivolous duties is the annual selection of the Pearl of the Season. In the past, the duty had fallen to the archon, but within the last century or so, Furina decided she simply couldn't be bothered. The parties and balls were fun to her. They tended to be filled with some sort of drama or excitement that fulfilled her need to be entertained. The presentations though, she found them beyond dreary. A line three miles long of sniveling, simpering debutantes nearly bored her to tears. In her mind, she had better things to do or more interesting places to be, so she obliged herself to do just that. There had been several instances over the years where she hadn't bothered to show up. Other times, she had picked the first person presented or even drawn a random number out of a hat and declared that individual the winner. The disregard shown by Furina to the tradition was something that rubbed people the wrong way. While she didn’t take it seriously, many amongst the aristocracy did. The distinction of being the Pearl or having someone selected as such could change a family's entire future. The idea that it was being mistreated wasn’t taken lightly.

Numerous complaints from the aristocracy, along with threats of the elite pulling their support from the Archon altogether shifted the responsibility of selecting the Pearl from Furina to Neuvillette. It was a solution that many agreed should have happened much sooner. The Iudex was certainly more reliable than the archon, he possessed more patience too. When the appointed day arrived, he was dutiful to a fault, generally unbiased in his choice, and always reliable when it came to choosing the most appropriate candidate. Neuvillette showed no reservations in his new found responsibility. He sat quietly, listening to name after name, seeing person after person as each was presented to him. His face never wavered. He maintained the same well practiced, neutral expression he always wore. Nothing phased him; Not fawning, not forgetfulness, not fainting. He was as steady as they came.

After a few years certain members of the court could swore that wasn’t true. According to them, Neuvillette wasn’t as neutral as he appeared. They claimed that through careful observation of the Iudex that they had picked up on subtle little tells. Ticks, gestures, or even cracks in that stony facade when he saw things he liked and disliked. According to them, Neuvillette had preferences for certain clothing types, perfumes, even hairstyles. For a price, they would sell them to those seeking to win the Chief Justice's favor. Because to many of the elite, that was the ultimate goal. To win the title of Pearl of the Season, meant you won Neuvillette as well. When Furina had abandoned her duty to Neuvillette, he had graciously taken it on with one condition; that for a specific duration set by him, the pearl he chose was his to do with as he saw fit. After he was finished, all doors were open. For that time though, which depended on the individual, the Chief Justice expected no challenges to his claim. To say that every noble family, whether they be low or high leapt at the opportunity to have a member of their own family be alone with the Iudex of Fontaine was an understatement. The honor or rather the sacrifice as Furina termed it, was a rare one. Every citizen of Fontaine would give the entirety of the Northland Bank’s reserves just for the chance to exert any influence over the Chief Justice. The idea of having him in their back pocket should they need him made the investment of the Iudex’s Ball and the social season worth it.

The city would begin buzzing once the first vestiges of spring started to appear. The second the flowers bloomed, Mora and fine fabrics began to flow like ripples across the water as the elite prepared to take their aim at the elusive Monsieur. The rumor mills began to churn with frequent regularity, reporting on everything concerning the Iudex. The gossip mongers kept a keen eye on him throughout the year, eager to sell any and every detail they had managed to uncover. In the bars, the favorites would be established and betting pools created. The opera never failed to sell during this time. Performances and trials alike were packed to the gills, the hopefuls dressed in their finery in a vain attempt to catch the Chief Justice’s eye before they were presented to him at a later date. Only one hopeful had actually succeeded in drawing his attention. The sheer garishness of her attire, coupled with her own behavior had forced him to pause the trial she was at so that he might have her removed. It was a good lesson to all. The fashions, along with the shameless attention mongering were toned down at the opera house to appease Neuvillette’s insistence of decorum while he was there. In their place came gifts and offerings that were often sent as tokens of esteem at the start of the season. A pile would quickly form, filling an entire corner of Neuvillette’s rather impressive office. He generally ignored them, leaving them where they lay until someone other than him opened them and dealt with them. Neuvillette couldn’t be bothered with them, just like he couldn’t be bothered with the whispers, and the gossips, and the papers. The Iudex had better things to do than deal with the frivolous nature of humans. He had research of his own to complete, research that involved you.

He was never one to play favorites, nor was he one to show deference to any one individual when it came to his selection. Furina liked to claim there were front runners. Members of the court who had managed to catch Neuvillette’s eye throughout the year. She often sent flowers to them on his behalf, just to make things more fun. She got a particular delight in seeing a certain hope be raised, only to have it come crashing down when Neuvillette inevitably deviated from Furina’s chosen few and selected an entirely different candidate. That was his duty after all. Neuvillette had been asked to select the best candidate to fulfill the role he was prepared to give them. Who had provided him with the nicest gift or had the best clothes or the most mora shouldn’t and couldn’t matter. He was the Chief Justice, it was important for the people to understand that he could not be bought. Why sell himself to the nobility for something as cheap as a pen, when he could have you for the price of a dance?

The bain of Neuvillette’s existence was that he was purposefully alone. He isolated himself from the world as a way of maintaining his impartiality. A necessary evil or that’s what he told himself when his own needs over took his ideals and the loneliness got the better of him. Humans were intrinsically social. They possessed a need to reach out to each other. He wasn’t so different in that regard. He had the melusines. They were always happy to help when he found himself feeling especially blue, but amongst the people of Fontaine, Neuvillette was an entity unto himself. There was no one else like him. No one could possibly understand his burden. He was utterly alone in that regard. It ate at him, opening a void in his own soul that begged to be filled. He had tried to ignore it. His duty to the nation, to its people took precedence. Neuvillette had to be stalwart in it. He had to maintain his impartiality. He had to preserve order. He had to hold himself apart. In the night though, when the world fell silent and his mind wandered, he found those ideals shattering around him as his thoughts lingering on you. On your pretty smile, on the warmth that you always seemed to exude, on how you would feel around him once he finally had you in his arms.

You had become an obsession of his. From the moment he had first laid eyes on you all the way to now, he knew you were meant to be his. Something deep within him, an ancient, almost primal instinct deemed it so. Had it still been those ancient days, he could have long had you. There was no such thing as rules or propriety in those times. He could have taken you for himself and not endured the agony of having to wait for your guardians to follow through with the ritual that was offering you to him. As it stood now though, he was forced to do just that. He couldn’t approach. He couldn’t show deference. All Neuvillette could do was watch and wait and learn. Countless hours he did not have had been poured into learning all he could about you. From the brand of perfume you wore, to what kind of lace decorated your undergarments, nothing regarding your tastes or interests was beyond his reach. The only thing he could not find or could not control was the date of your social debut.

In a rather agonizing twist of fate, your guardians had delayed your presentation multiple times. Each delay had been a gash across Neuvillette’s very soul. The cruelty of having to spend another year waiting was almost too much to bear. If the action of insisting you be presented to him wasn’t so utterly damning to both his reputation and the entire selection process as a whole, then he would have long been able to dispense with the formalities and have you by his side. Until then, he would be forced to wait. His consolation was that with another year, came another pearl, and with another pearl came the chance to practice. Neuvillette had already spent several seasons in anticipation of your selection, it never hurt to perfect his methods. Not when the children of the elite were oh so willing to help him learn. They had shown him that human pleasure was seemingly boundless. With every year he seemed to learn more and more. Different touches, different teases, all cataloged into his memory. Ready and waiting for the day he would make you sing for him. Until that time though, he would keep himself at a distance; admiring you from across the room as a proper gentleman should.

#yandere genshin x you #yandere!genshin #yandere genshin #yan genshin x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere neuvillette #neuvillette #genshin neuvillette #genshin impact neuvillette #genshin impact #genshin #genshin fanfic #genshin impact fanfiction

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matchabears · 1 year

Text

notes on falling in love

pairing. alhaitham x reader (feat. kaveh) synopsis. it’s in the little things, really. wc. 1k themes. angst, unrequited pining, modern au(ish) because i barely give any description lmao, this is mostly about feelings, feelings tw, alhaitham is a robot science man allergic to the human spectrum of emotion now playing. hoax by taylor swift note. the way i’m shit at writing angst but am incapable of writing anything else

“you don’t like me very much, do you?”

alhaitham pauses, in the middle of shelving the stack of books in his arms. he doesn’t look down, but he can see you blinking curiously up at him in his peripheral.

he’s relieved that he’s at the very top of the ladder, so you don’t notice the way his fingers tighten around the spine of the book and how he has to shift his weight so he doesn’t lose his balance. when he opens his mouth to respond, he draws in a shaky breath.

“i have no reason to like or dislike you,” he responds curtly. “so long as you do your job properly.”

that’s right, he has no need for such useless sentiments; he’s a man of science after all. flowery language and cursory emotions are a waste of energy and all detract from his ultimate goal of pursuing concrete, infallible knowledge.

so he steadies himself and climbs down the ladder, ignoring how tightly his heart constricts when he sees you smile.

it’s just an organ.

“i guess i walked right into that one,” you grin before nodding towards the stack of books in his arms. “need help with those?”

“no,” he simply says, pulling the ladder to the other side of the shelf. with his back turned to you, he’s much more at ease. if he can’t see you, then he can’t find another attribute of yours to commit to memory.

you don’t listen, though, because you never do. instead, you snatch the books from him and climb the ladder yourself before he can react.

“what are you doing?” he furrows his brows.

“trying to get on your good side,” you hum.

“is this why you’ve been following me around all day?” he sighs.

you wince sheepishly. “was it that obvious? i thought i was being pretty subtle.”

alhaitham, with traitorous eyes trained to notice and analyze every little detail, follows the movement as if it had a magnetic pull, dragging his gaze across your features. he drinks in the color of your eyes, the slope of your nose, the flutter of your eyelashes, the glow of your skin, and the tinted sheen on your lips like he were studying a textbook on astrophysics.

but it would be amiss to compare you to any branch of science, he supposes. sciences produces results, logic, and answers.

you are loud and obnoxious, ironic for someone who works in a library. you are a hindrance more than help to most of the daily tasks, cutting down productivity by at least fifty percent with your chattering and penchant for distraction. you are person with a naturally alluring disposition that draws people in. you are able to speak to patrons of the library with a charm that seems mystical to him. you are a warmth that only exists in the confines of fantasy. you are everything he finds to be a waste of time in a person, and you are everything that he is not.

you are the only anomaly he can’t solve.

“you are many things, but subtle is not one of them.”

that makes you laugh, and the ladder, as old and rickety as it is, trembles just like the stupid organ that is his heart. as if it were a reflex, alhaitham reaches out his hand and steadies the ladder.

it’s a pointless gesture, really. him holding the ladder still doesn’t eliminate the risk of you falling. yet, he grips the wooden material so tightly that his knuckles turn white.

“is it so wrong of me to want to be friends with my new boyfriend’s roommate and also my co-worker for way longer than that?” you whine.

what ridiculous titles, he thinks to himself. he and you can barely even be regarded as acquaintances, but you’ve somehow found a way to establish a connection. alhaitham doesn’t even want to be acquaintances with you, most certainly not friends.

he despises that you are almost nothing to him. why couldn’t you be something or just nothing? you’re almost. almost something and almost nothing all at the same time. that gray area makes him feel, feel, feel—that damn word—like he isn’t in control; it’s an ugly, dark sensation that coils in the pit of his stomach like a venomous snake.

“i don’t want to be friends with you,” he chokes out, a desperate tinge to his voice that he hopes you don’t notice.

“well, i’m a lot more stubborn than you think, so just you wait,” you reply in a teasing manner.

a muscle in his jaw spasms just as someone calls out your name, sparing him from having to respond.

alhaitham watches as your face, the one he’s been enraptured with since the moment he’s laid eyes on you, lights up with an expression that he will never be able to bring out of you.

you hurriedly climb down the ladder, your conversation with him long forgotten, and he doesn’t need to turn around to know who it is.

“kaveh!”

logically, it makes sense that you ended up with kaveh. he leads with his heart instead of his head, he lets his personal attachments get in the way of rationality, and he’s a person that will consider your feelings first and foremost. and above all, he has the capacity to love you.

love, a mere chemical defect of the brain. love, needless self-sacrifice for a temporary high. love, a concept that alhaitham will never understand.

the way you smooth out the non-existent wrinkles in your shirt,

the way you aimlessly fidget with your fingers and bounce on the balls of your feet,

the way you drink the can of black coffee he hands you even though you dump at least five spoonfuls of sugar in your normal cup,

the way you suck on your bottom lip to hide the bitterness and smear away the lip gloss you put on especially for him,

the way your breath hitches when he laces your fingers through his and brings your knuckles to his lips,

the way you look at kaveh just like how alhaitham looks at you.

“you don’t like me very much, do you?”

no, he doesn’t.

#genshin scenarios #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham angst #alhaitham scenarios #alhaitham imagines #alhaitham drabble #genshin angst #genshin alhaitham #genshin fanfic #alhaitham #drabble #genshin impact #matchabears

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somberjoon · 4 months

Text

METANOIA [3]

✩ pairing: hybrid nj x hybrid reader (f) - eventual ot7 x reader

✩ genre: soul-searching , romance🔞 , found-family , healing , angst , happy ending

✩ word count: 3.7k

✩ chapter warnings: uncertainty in behavior and emotions , 'pups' and 'cubs' used as an overall label - children and breeds will be specified when important. (none of the mcs are parents) ,

✩ summary: She doesn't know. There is so much about her and her cheetah that she hasn't had the privilege to understand. Unknown backgrounds and unknown emotions clash with feelings of want- hopes of being herself unapologetically. Namjoon seems to be someone that can help her- but can the rest of his pack truly be what she has wanted and needed?

✩ cover: me

ch.1 , ch.2 , ch.3 , ch.4 , ...

✩ disclaimer: this is the last slow chapter and probably the shortest. I apologize if these first three were slow / short but I really wanted to give myself a feel for the characters before going into the "main" story conflicts and happenings.

Namjoon

His nerves fizzle under his skin again as he makes his way to the pack’s sunroom. He’s looking for a specific cat that he knows enjoys his leisure time alone in the evening sun.

The cheetah lies near the large window that takes up just about one whole wall of the room. His animal form is elegant- reserved- much like his human form. His ears twitch as Namjoon makes his way towards him, squatting just over him to rub into the back of his neck just how he likes it the most. Familiar, deep purrs rumble up and greet Namjoon. He’ll never get tired of hearing them, feeling them under his hands and lips.

When Taehyung first found Namjoon they both knew there was something there. But, as humans pass strangers on the street, hybrids find themselves in inhumane shelters and never risk attaching themselves to each other. It took them a few hopeless months before Taehyung finally slunk up to Namjoon in his cheetah form to sniff and rub into his leg. The strange boy never said anything to him, but made sure to find Namjoon in times of stress. The comfort was immediate between them- even when they didn’t want to admit it to themselves. Besides Yoongi- the third member of their pack- the rest of the pack was surprised to find Taehyung was the first Namjoon bonded with.

In vague terms, Taehyung is mysterious in a way that the guys could only chalk up to ‘a cheetah thing’. They aren’t a common animal in hybrid terms- in fact, Taehyung and now Y/N are the only ones he’s met his whole life. Even volunteering, pups are rarely big cats- though others are more common that cheetahs.

This is an opportunity for Taehyung, now that he’s thought about it his whole weekend off. He can’t say for sure, but he can guess that Y/N has never met another cheetah- he knows Taehyung hasn’t. So, after lots of contemplation and thinking of ways to get Taehyung to meet someone new willingly, he decided it was just best to ask each cheetah.

“I’m so lucky to have found a pretty cub.” Namjoon coos at the cheetah who’s tail swishes with leisurely grace. Taehyung gives him a deep chirp that shows his dislike for the ‘baby-term’ he calls it.

“I know, I know. I wanted to talk to you about something important if you’re up for it.” The cheetah eyes him, not wanting to shift but definitely interested. “I would prefer you to be able to tell me exactly how you feel but, maybe it’s best this way.” Namjoon’s hand leaves his thick fur. “I can’t say too, too much unless you’re a volunteer but, one of my cases involves an adult cheetah-” Taehyung’s elegant head turns quickly to eye the man above him more directly. “They aren’t familiar with their cheetah at all, I don’t even think they’ve shifted for a long, long time, but- I wanted you to know you had this opportunity. You’d have to become an official volunteer under the organization and have a background check but, because you’re pack they should prioritize your paperwork. I just- I want you to know I can make it work, and you can think about it for as long as you need.”

Namjoon can see the way he thinks after knowing him for so long. His tail always moves a certain way, his eyes roam around like the thoughts are playing out in front of him. The older stands as Taehyung doesn’t seem to show any response at the moment, and he was being honest when he said he can think about it for as long as he needs. He gives one last pat-pet before heading to his home office for the evening to get ready for the week’s work.

It’s much later than he realizes, he didn’t count when each of his pack mates came in individually to wish him a goodnight. He can’t remember when each of them did come in, but different head and face pecks with tired wishes cross his mind. It’s not until a soft knock that he recognizes sounds at his door. He straightens up a bit upon realizing.

Now human, Taehyung squeezes into the room without a word, eyeing Namjoon with an unreadable expression. His unsure stance shows his contemplation easily, that much Namjoon knows.

“Hey.” Namjoon gives him a warm smile, always happy to see his family.

“Am I the only one that knows?”

“Yeah, I’m not supposed to tell anyone about case information, so no one else knows unless they give consent themselves. But this is- I think this would be really important for both of you.”

“If- if I said yes, what would it entail?” Namjoon smiles at the small visible pout that Taehyung has when he’s thinking.

“It’s like any other case I tell you about. It’s adjustment time for them, getting them used to other hybrids and helping them to just have someone to talk to, to open to and create bonds with. We could just grab food or go running- they like running as well in their human form.”

Taehyung stands there, eyes searching Namjoon’s face for something he doesn’t know of. Taehyung always reads him like a book, nothing gets past him. Namjoon hopes he agrees, even if he’s okay with any answer from either cheetah. The younger isn’t one to go out of his comfort zone socially, and this is a lot to ask.

“Okay.” Namjoon’s ears perk up at the answer.

“Okay?”

“Yeah, just let me know if they want to and then we’ll go to the organization when you’d like me to.”

Namjoon's face lights up whether he’d like to mask his emotions or not. He wants this for Taehyung, he wants this for Y/N.

“Now come to bed before the bunny has a fit.” Taehyung tries to hide the smile with a turn and exit but Namjoon catches it, quickly putting his PC to sleep and following the cheetah to their shared room.

Y/N

He hadn't said anything after that.

Richard didn't even try to check in on her or offer her dinner that next night until Maria got home and gave her the tightest hug. She relished in it, the warmth of someone familiar for once. She held tight until Maria expressed she was famished and tired.

Waiting for the arrival of Namjoon after a weekend is the worst. Maybe she's being dramatic- but can you blame her? This is the little time she gets to be with someone like her and someone- nice, in more than a parental way. He's something confusing and terrifying but, it's nice having something like that- someone.

The tires pulling into the paved driveway immediately pull her into a standing position. She's at the door before Maria, waiting for him to knock- she has some decorum. Maria gives her a smile after making sure it is Namjoon's car, leaving the two to their own as she spends her time in her craft room.

The jitters make her realize her outfit is plain and her loose hair is undone and boring. She tugs at her everyday sweats and jolts at the light knocks that sound just next to her face. With a deep breath and a quick pump up, she opens the door to find the tall wolf already looking down at her with a fond smile that melts her completely.

She forgets everything when he’s here. It should be impossible, especially with how much haunts her but- he’s safe. Everything about him feels safe. Her worries give way to excitement and relief. She’s launching into his chest before she can even think about asking first.

His scent hits her first. The rich, thick aroma of musky vanilla envelopes her. Her arms are tight around his chest, under his arms to be as close as possible. She thinks it's perfect- until his arm wraps itself around her shoulders, holding her carefully enough to keep from scaring her away. Yeah, this is definitely perfect.

"I caught a cub without even trying." Namjoon says with a smile she can hear. She pulls away at the realization, looking anywhere but his face.

"I'm so sorry, I-I should've asked."

"No, no-" he doesn't hesitate to reply, "I love hugs, don't worry." There's a pause of awkward silence Y/N hopes he doesn't feel like she is. "Do you have anything you'd like to do today?"

It's the first question he asks at the beginning of each visit, giving her the opportunity to share her thoughts first.

"No, but uh, I'd like to do something outside…like last time." Namjoon stops to think.

"Hmmm, we can go running again, or maybe we can have a picnic?"

"A picnic?" Y/N's ears twitch at the prospect.

"Yeah, we can stop by a store and grab some stuff and then we can go to a pretty park to just eat and relax- and you can run after if you'd like." If the idea didn't already sound perfect, his smile would've sold her.

"That sounds fun." She says honestly, giving him a genuine smile back.

She fucking hates grocery stores.

She's been in one with Maria, but a clothing store is much more calm, especially early in the morning when no one is there. But this- god this is awful.

Everyone stands in the way and nobody has manners. She's always gotten weird looks but she's clean and homed now- she's not 'dirty' like she used to be every day. Namjoon sticks close to her despite the stuffy air creating a humid bubble around them.

"We just need a few things and then we can pick snacks. Is there anything you prefer?"

"Watermelon." She says without having to even think.

"Done, anything else?"

"Lemonade."

Namjoon's airy chuckle seems to be the only thing she can hear in the crowded aisles.

"Of course, anything else?"

"Umm, I don't know. I like sandwiches but, maybe that's too much."

"Of course not, I'm a wolf and I definitely eat like one. That would be nothing but a light snack, let's just grab some stuff from the deli to try."

She can't help but laugh at the confession, relishing in the closeness they've acquired by sticking to the handle of the basket.

"Okay."

Namjoon puts special care into picking the foods for her to try, picking a blanket she likes, and setting everything up with little effort from her. She was shooed away a few times when Namjoon struggled to open one of the plastic containers or when she just felt useless and needed to put her hands on something.

“Okay! All done.” Namjoon opens his arms to show his work, the food laid out for them to eat while still having space for them to sit comfortably.

“It’s so pretty, everything looks good.” Y/N can’t help but confess, “Can we eat?” She eyes the watermelon in particular. She isn’t one to eat a lot for breakfast, so it’s definitely time for some food and she’s even more impatient because of the crisp fruit.

“Of course, sit sit.” Namjoon settles down with enough space for her to sit comfortably as well. She eyes the spot, sitting with her legs crossed to realize just how large Namjoon is and how much space he’s actually taking up. She tries not to pay attention to their knees brushing as he reaches for and sets the watermelon container in front of her. He gives himself one half of a packed sandwich and places the other in front of her as well with the container it came in. He’s taking such special care that she’s not used to being given- a purr dares to bubble up at the smallest gestures, making her struggle to be somewhat normal. Namjoon saves her from embarrassment, luckily.

“So, how was your weekend?” Namjoon asks with an almost full mouth- she finds it more endearing than anything.

“Okay- boring.” She replies before biting into a perfect piece of watermelon, juice dribbling down her chin that she wipes away with the sleeve of her long-sleeve shirt. “How ‘bout yours?”

“Pretty average, but I like it that way.” They both take a few bites, enjoying the warmth and breeze as they sit in the pretty park. “Has there been anything new you've wanted to try, or did you try anything new recently?" He asks to keep from the awkward silence.

"I don't know,” she gives a shrug, pushing away the memories of the weekend, trying to find a saving grace. “I tried a phone game…it was very distracting.” Namjoon gives a laugh at that.

“Was it fun at least?”

“Too much fun.” Y/N laughs with him, suddenly missing the game she somehow forgot about after that day of playing. “I looked up hobbies, maybe to have something to do- to get used to being by myself or for when I find a job- but I don’t know how to start anything.”

Namjoon makes a gesture to himself, trying to say something without words as his mouth is too full this time. A giddy smile from her watches him until he can finally talk.

“That’s what I’m made for! I’m great at this, okay.” He puts his sandwich down and turns to her fully, shifting so her right knee is resting on his intertwined ankles. “What caught your attention when you were looking?”

“Mainly the video games, I never had the luxury to play- oh! And the art stuff. I loved seeing the street murals and colorful pieces around the towns I passed through. I think it would be nice to learn something like that.”

“That’s perfect! Some of the guys at home have some extras they’re always trying to get rid of. A couple older generation systems they never use, or art supplies they didn’t prefer-”

“Namjoon that- that’s too much. You already do so much for me. I couldn’t accept that when I have nothing to offer back.”

“I wouldn’t suggest it if I wanted something in return. I do this because I want to. I want to hang out with you and bring you things. Plus, the guys really won’t miss any of it.”

She’s never been given this much. Though she feels extremely lucky to be found by the right people and was given these opportunities with the nicest hybrid somehow in the organization’s pocket- she’s overwhelmed with everything. Even waking up in a bed after a nightmare freaks her out once in a while. Namjoon is a wonder to buy her these things for their daily hangouts when she’s just a stranger to him. It’s odd, no matter how she thinks about it.

She could try. Try to give back to him and work harder to get to a spot where her doctor thinks she’s ready to start working and get her own place with things she was able to buy herself. She’d give back to him then.

“Okay. I’d love them.” Namjoon’s tail immediately picks up to wag and thump against the ground behind him as his smile grows to relief. “But just a couple things, and I’ll repay you eventually.”

“Mmm, deal.” Namjoon holds out his hand in a gesture that Y/N hasn’t experienced with anyone yet. Her questioning look is met with a welcome nod at his hand. She grabs his hand lightly, his fingers grasping with assurance. Their warm, soft encapsulation makes her stomach turn in a way that can only be described as sickness. He shakes their hands for her as her gaze is locked on the obvious size difference of their hands- glancing up to see if he noticed her distraction. His smile isn’t venomous at all, it’s the same warmth she’s used to. She smiles back until his expression suddenly falls.

“I’m sorry to change the subject but, I wanted to talk about something if you were up to it? It’s nothing bad at all, but- if you’re not interested you can let me know and I’ll drop it immediately.”

She drops his comforting hand to distract herself with more watermelon.

“Okay.”

“As you know, I know another cheetah personally. Honestly, he’s part of my pack.” Her eyes lock on his face to follow him more intently now that she knows she’s definitely interested. “Cheetahs aren’t common hybrids- in fact they’re very rare. You’re very rare.”

She thinks back to what that man said about her when she was home alone with Richard. ‘Exotic’, he called her. She didn’t understand it then, but now…

“Exotic?” She asks suddenly.

“Not exactly,” Namjoon gives her a questioning look. “Rare and exotic aren’t the same, but some full humans don’t care to decipher the difference. They see us as money and property. It’s not as common nowadays, but just- be careful with humans that aren’t respectful to you and your autonomy.”

“Autonomy?”

“Your right to know what you want and to be able to obtain that for yourself. Basically, they should respect that you’re your own person.”

“Oh, right.” She nervously picks at her sweats with the multiple realizations now stewing in her head.

“With such rare hybrids, there’s bound to be those ones that have never met one like them. The one from my pack, he’s never had the chance to meet another cheetah, despite meeting other hybrids growing up. And I wasn’t sure if you have but- the bond between them and the comfort between two like hybrids is incomparable.”

Y/N can tell he’s circling around the actual question, so she tries her best to get there before he has to ease her in any longer.

“Are you asking if I’d like to…meet him?” Namjoon gives a heavy sigh before responding.

“I don’t want you to feel like you have to meet anyone- especially if you’re uncomfortable but, I also don’t want you to miss opportunities just because I haven’t been thoughtful enough to present them to you.”

God, he’s annoyingly perfect.

“You’re far more thoughtful than you sound saying that.” He gives her a half chuckle, half hum that she can feel in her gut.

“I talked to him about it this weekend- I wanted to let you know that this is something I can make happen for you. Meeting another cheetah would allow you a chance at some answers that you can’t get from me.”

“What did he say? Does he want to meet me?”

“I don’t want his answer to feel like you have to decide one way or another. You don’t even have to decide today, or this week-”

“I already decided, I just want to know before I tell you.”

His smile grows at the realization, she knows she basically already gave an answer but she waits for him to give her the information first.

“He does want to meet you.”

“Then I think I want to meet him too.” She nonchalantly answers with a shrug that she tries to make as casual as possible.

Honestly, the excitement and expectation of meeting another cheetah is far too great to even think about saying no. She barely had to contemplate the decision. She’s not scared to meet other hybrids- thanks to Namjoon- but she can’t let the fear of just meeting another person get in the way. He wants to meet her as well- that was the final push to saying yes.

“Okay, then I’ll make it work.”

His ‘for sure’, confident attitude is a lot more attractive than she’d like to admit. Her watermelon is running out from the attention she gives to it over having to think about the confusing effects Namjoon has on her.

“Is that sandwich good?”

Namjoon lifts the sandwich to his mouth that he ended up forgetting about in their conversations.

“It’s a secret, you’ll have to try it yourself,” is the only answer he gives, turning to look out at the distance with too much confidence. Her eyes roll instinctively despite a smile painting her pace, grabbing the sandwich to try.

“I don’t even want to tell you how good it is.” She mumbles as she chews the yummy bite.

Namjoon

Namjoon isn’t exactly surprised when he steps up to the front door and meets an immediate opening door and Taehyung standing in the frame waiting for him. He takes a few visible sniffs before any greeting comes out.

“How was it today?”

Taehyung was never one to put himself into discussions of work- his past and the way he prefers to interact in this society just prevents him from caring too much about the details. He’ll listen to you talk about your complaints with no protest and with the best listening skills, but he’s not one to ask outright.

“Good- they said yes, if you’re wondering.” Namjoon gets straight to the point, not wanting to make him wait any longer for an answer when he knows that’s exactly what he wants.

Namjoon squeezes in next to Taehyung as he tries to sniff and sniff at his clothes without making it too obvious. He knows that Y/N hugged him- just like last time, he has proof of someone that’s not exactly a cub on his person.

“That’s good. Can we go to the organization tomorrow?” Namjoon loves how straight to the point Taehyung always is. He’s a big softie- someone that is patient and loving in private times and areas- but he knows what he wants, and he’ll ask for it even if there’s more chances for a negative response than a positive one.

The urgency of Taehyung’s questions and need for answers makes Namjoon playful. He gives a secret, small smile as he shrugs off his light jacket and kicks his shoes off before turning back to the younger.

“No ‘happy to see you’ kiss?” Namjoon pouts and slumps his body a little to get a reaction. He forces his tail to stay still so Taehyung can’t immediately tell he’s just messing with him. The cheetah gives him the quickest peck to the lips, not letting the touchy wolf relish in the feeling.

“No ‘happy to see you’ long kiss?” He keeps his pout on his lips, reaching for Taehyung’s arm to pull him forward. Taehyung leans into Namjoon’s lips without question, needing to please the older just to get an answer. Namjoon smiles into the kiss, tail wagging at the pleasure he got from successfully playing with the younger. He brings his hand up to Taehyung’s chin to keep him close as he speaks.

“We’ll go tomorrow before work so I can still volunteer after work and let them know what happens. Okay?”

“Thank you.” Taehyung whispers.

#bts au #bts fic #bts hybrid au #bts hybrid fic #bts hybrid x reader #bts x fem!reader #bts x reader #bts x y/n #bts x you #namjoon au #namjoon x reader

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cyrusthemagician · 20 days

Text

🐛BUGMI!✨ TADC OC INFO/MASTERPOST☆

Name: Bugmi

Age: 19 (joined at 17)

Gender: its complicated..., most often called a female

Pronouns: it/its/xe/xem ………………………………….

Likes: roller skating around the tent, causing harmless chaos, balloons, bugs, talking to others non stop, playing harmless pranks or jokes, challenging others to a race (usually only Caine or Speedy agree's), music, talking about its interests, its pa (dad)

Dislikes: silence, people pressings its buttons or touching its wings, hugs, close physical contact, violent people, arguments, spicey foods, touchy people, people talking bad about its pa (dad)

Personality: Bugmi is an energetic and chaotic person, usually being found skating around the circus with no aim or rambling to one of its friends. It dosent get along well with most of the circus members due to it energetic and "annoying" tendencies as jax says. Bugmi can be rather Emotional when it comes to things it enjoys, finding comfort in things like music, acting like a child, and plushies. It can run away from situations it doesnt like, warning signs can go from dissasosiating and zoning out to feeling overwhelmed or too energized. xey get uncomfortable around negativity and often dont like to be told if somethings wrong with someone.

Backstory: As a human bugmi's name was Lylla Linzi. Xe usually spent most of its time hanging out with friends, taking bike rides, or taking random train rides. It was a wanderer, never really settling down, this can apply to relationships, hobbies, and living situations. It usually was shifting with its style and looks, exploring who it wanted to be but never feeling whole or content. The most time xey spent living in one place was when xey lived with xeir dad. One day it was packing up to move away again, it was rather upset and overwhelmed, on a walk to its new place xey saw a flier. xey grabbed it and continued walking. The flier was advertising C&A's opened job position, Lylla called the number on the flier. A few weeks later xey got in, confused by why it was so easy, xey shrugged it off and got ready for xeir first day of work, and xeir last day in the real world unknowingly.

!Relationships chart!

!Extras!

arrived sometime after pomni did

………………………………….

has actually never been in xeir room other than once because xey dont like being alone

...........................................

playlist: BUGMI!

...........................................

xey fall on xeir back often and cant get up on xeir own like some bugs

...........................................

Caine made xem xeir own roller rink so xey dont crash into things around the circus while skating

!More art!(au vers included)

(i basically never draw xem IM SORRY)

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arteastica · 5 months

Text

early in the morning, especially when it rains, and a little before noon. (20)

erwin x fem!reader

chapters: (1) | (2) | (3) | (4) | (5) | (6) | (7) | (8) | (9) | (10) | (11) | (12) | (13) | (14) | (15) | (16) | (17) | (18) | (19) | (21) | (22) | (23) | (24) | (25) | (26) | (27)

summary: I basically took Isayama’s work, forced it into a romance story, and made Erwin the love interest. Commander meets cadet and they fall in love (not instantly though)

notes: very berry canonverse (but some events were modified to fit my narrative), wasn’t intended to be this long, but it all is in the details right?

content warnings: smut where it fits (or where I make it fit. Also, reader is NOT underage, so likewise, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, please.) slow burn (I really mean it. I’m not olympic diving into any form of smut for the first chapters.) no angst. I dislike angst. I would never. I could never. (Although angst can be somewhat subjective so take it with a grain of salt?)

wc: 2.1k

If you were ever asked to describe nostalgia to someone who has never experienced it before, you would say it’s like walking down the hallways of a museum at sunset, with nothing but the sound of your footsteps as company, echoing down seemingly infinite walls decorated with sepia memories that belong to happier, distant times.

For you, nostalgia was always the one who spoke most clearly in the silence, and just like the corridors of that metaphorical museum, it just so happened to be ghost-quiet in your office that evening. And in such solitude, when the only heart beating in the room belonged to you, your otherwise welcoming workspace became an echo chamber of unsought feelings and unwanted thoughts.

You looked at his empty chair. So much for a quick ride. You thought. It had been hours since him and Lord Koch had ventured into the field, and even though the Sun had decided to call it a day, you hadn’t. According to the clock ominously ticking on the wall before you, as well as the animated chatter coming from the dinner hall downstairs, your shift had ended a while ago, yet somehow you found yourself still sitting at your desk, fountain pen hovering over boring administrative stuff you had read at least three times that day, working extra hours, all because you didn’t want to go home.

Not without seeing him first.

Making sure he got back safe was part of the reason, albeit a small one. Because, if you were to be honest, in the end the decision to stay working overtime for free, had come down to something way less noble. It was simple: If you were still in your office by the time he came back, there was a chance of something happening, there was a chance of something changing between the two of you. And that possibility was enough remuneration for you.

Your eyes, however, begged to differ and, tired of looking at the same words over and over, decided to wander around the room until they found the big window behind his desk. The sunset sky, with its sad pinks and nostalgic blues, held nothing but the promise of more loneliness. And that melancholic palette you would’ve otherwise found pretty, as well as the empty chair behind his desk, acted as nothing but a reminder of how much you missed him, and you didn’t mean just today.

You missed how things were back then. You missed the warmth of his skin and the gentleness of his touch. You missed getting drunk on the rich sandalwoods of his hair: musky, earthy, a little sweet, and just the right amounts of spicy. You missed the addictive taste of his lips as well as the velvety, honeyed words that would leave them in your most intimate moments. And most of all, you missed the way his cobalt eyes would make your heart soar whenever you looked his way and found he was already staring.

That was the best feeling.

And it had been so long since the last time you had experienced it.

The calendar would argue it had only been a week, but if that was the case, then that week surely had the personality of a month. The clock would call it nonsense, saying that time was measured and constant. You knew that Leon, however, would agree with you.

‘Alike are time and water.’ He had told you just earlier that day, as he read out of a small leather notebook snippets of what was, in his own words, ‘some nonsense’ he had written on his way there. ‘Flowing slowly one drop at a time, or rushing by in the blink of an eye.’ You rubbed your eyes with the back of your hand. “And then I look at you and watch it freeze, knowing little has it to do with the mesmerizing view, when I find myself in the midst of that algid winter that is you.’

Maybe it was the bright oranges and mellow pinks of the sky you were staring at, or the connotation of endings that sunsets have, but your vision started to get blurry.

And sitting there, listening to the distant clatter of cutlery, unsure if the thing beating in your chest was a knot or a heart, you felt forgotten. Like the stuffed animal nobody packed before moving out, or the grandmother nobody visits anymore. And you had no one else to blame for that.

If you could, you would have pinned everything on time. On how it makes children turn into adults and forget to write home. On how it turns friends into strangers. On how it makes people grow tired of each other. On how it was starting to make him feel fictional, making you wonder if whatever beautiful thing you had, ever even existed.

If you could, you would have excused yourself behind ignorance, hiding under the blanket of confusion, claiming you didn’t know what happened.

You wished you could. But you couldn’t.

You couldn’t, because you knew exactly what had happened. You had heard the words leave your mouth that morning. Very clearly, even through the loud sounds of your own pleasure. You had said them. Words that he probably didn’t need. Words that had been distasteful enough to push him away.

Guess that saying I love you can sometimes make you unlovable, after all.

He did warn you, after all: Scouts don’t start families.

They avoid love.

They don’t marry.

But, who was even talking about marriage?

Beginning to grow frustrated with yourself, you tried to blink your feelings away. But the more you tried, the more they would pour out, and the more your eyes would start to burn as a result.

And that was a problem because, in that very moment, you heard the unmistakable sound of his footsteps down the hallway.

You rubbed your eyes one last time as they approached, trying to erase any traces of your lingering melancholy, and when the door opened, your fingers hurried to fiddle with whatever papers they found in the top drawer of your desk.

You didn’t know if he had even thrown as much as a passing glance your way, but judging by the discreet, distressingly quiet way in which he headed straight to his desk without uttering a single word, you could be forgiven for thinking he hadn’t even noticed your presence at all.

And it hurt. It sure did. His silence was so sharp it stabbed the deepest part of your chest. So loud it broke you like the wailing of singers is said to shatter glass.

But, if you were to put yourself in his shoes, you would understand.

Why would he say anything?

You tried to reason with yourself while your fingers caressed papers and closed drawers.

Why would he say anything to his dumb, incompetent assistant?

If you were him, you wouldn’t utter a single word either, out of fear of being misunderstood. Because, in the presence of someone as foolish as her, any simple, commonplace action could risk becoming fuel for even more stupid, delusional ideas forming in her little head.

However, although it had taken that little head a while, it was finally beginning to understand.

That she was just his clumsy, fuckable assistant who, after opening her legs for him a couple times, had accidentally fallen in love in the process. Nothing more than a stupid, inexperienced city girl who didn’t know anything about life in the Survey Corps.

But that same city girl was starting to learn. Yes, she was was.

You rose up from your chair.

It may take her a while, but she always learned.

You walked towards the fireplace.

And once she learned, she made sure she never forgot. Never forgot that she was hired to make his job easier, not harder. To handle his mail, not to warm the left side of his bed. To administer schedules, not to moan his name. To revise budgets, not to beg for orgasms. To bring him tea, not more problems.

And like so, with all that in mind, you retrieved the kettle from the fire.

It wasn’t hard to believe that the Commander of the Survey Corps had other things in his mind. More important, better things than his foolish, lovestruck assistant.

You carefully poured boiling water into a porcelain cup.

But to this foolish, lovestruck assistant, the problem was accepting all the aforementioned.

You sliced a lemon and watched it sink into the water.

It was hard to accept that he didn’t feel the same way you did. It was hard to accept that his lips didn’t instantly curve at the sight of you, the same way yours did at the mere thought of the cobalt in his eyes, and that little frown he did when he was tired. And you didn’t need to look at him to know he had it on his face right now.

You didn’t demand to be the first thought he had when he opened his eyes, nor the last one when he closed them at night. But you just wanted to be a thought.

Just a thought. Maybe the one he had when the first snow fell, or when new buds sprung upon old trees. When the first rain of the summer fell on him while out on the field, or when a gentle breeze mischievously shifted his hair out of place in the fall. Or when it lovingly caressed his cheeks in passing, just like you would right now.

If you could.

You knew you shouldn’t, but you threw a glance his way. He was sitting at his desk, head down, hand busy on what you guessed was the report about the new horses. And it was so very funny. If you had it in you, you would have even snorted. How something that could bring so much joy could also bring so much pain. And even more puzzling it was, how a heart could feel both at the same time.

He was so beautiful. Sunshine strands falling on his face, hiding the depths of his thoughts. The genius of those strategies that were always several moves ahead of what anyone was capable of.

So attractive. The frown in those jungle eyebrows telling you it had been a tough day for him too.

You forced your eyes to look away.

Of course anyone would fall for him.

You thought as you added a spoonful of honey and watched it melt into the boiling water.

Maybe you could forgive yourself for having done just that.

You picked up the tray with whatever steadiness your trembling hands were capable of, and, in the company of a desperate, uncomfortable hammering in your chest, cautiously made your way towards him, the hesitance present in your footsteps making you feel as if you were in some sort of cage, approaching a wild animal.

It shouldn’t be like this. You had been bringing him tea for months. Every night. Without fail. So, why did it feel as if it was a complete stranger you were about to serve? As if you didn’t know how many cubes of sugar he took or how many spoons of honey he enjoyed.

“Be careful, in case it’s too hot.” You warned him, carefully placing the tray on the empty corner he always left for his tea. “I didn’t know when you’d be coming back, so I wasn’t able to let it cool down first.” You avoided looking at him, although it wouldn’t even matter if you did, because from the corner of your eye you could tell he was doing just the same. Head down, eyes on his papers, just like yours were on the tray, as you took your sweet time adding sugar cubes to his cup.

He likes it sweet. His tea. Very sweet. You reminded yourself, stirring as slowly as you could, praying the sugar cubes would also take their sweet time melting. Because, some hopeful, silly part of you still believed he would say something. You needed to confirm he could still see you. You needed to make sure you hadn’t become a ghost from his past. Not yet.

And for that purpose, even the coldest ‘Thank you. You may go’ would do it for you.

If you couldn’t have his hand to hold or his arm around your shoulders, the smallest word of acknowledgment would be enough.

But when none of those came, you realized you had no choice but to leave. Quietly. Collectedly.

Despite the painful knot stuck in your throat.

Leave. To your room. Where you could take care of it. Where your eyes could bleed an ocean, eroding the boulder-like thing you had for a heart. Chilling what was once warm inside.

“If you don’t need anything else, Commander, may I be exc-”

“Are you going to him?” The sound of his voice made your heart explode inside your chest, and its abruptness left you wondering if he was even talking to you.

You wanted to believe he was, but he kept his head down, pen in hand, unmoving; making it hard for you, in your desperate state of mind, to tell.

“Commander?”

“Are you going to meet him now?” He asked again, and this time his eyes found yours, dissipating any doubts you may have had.

And you would have allowed yourself to indulge in some form of cheer, happy he was starting any sort of conversation with you.

You really would have.

If only his eyes weren’t the color of a midwinter night, starless, pitch black, so dark it was impossible to see what was hiding in them.

But something was for certain: whatever it was, it wasn’t there this morning when he left.

next chapter

taglist: @elnyrae @mchlist @angelaevangelion @depitaangeline @ynackerman9499 @afatalheat @pumpkin-toffee @velouria17 @gassytritis @goddessinsweats @nube55 @jeanboyjean @crazychaoticizzy @braunsbabe @erwinawesomeness @apts2000 @lucifers-nipple-piercing

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velvetvexations · 12 days

Note

I think one of the main reasons I dislike Fantasy High Junior Year is because of the way it was marketed. Like, there's an entire video explaining how Kristen is gonna go through this major character arc and ditch some of her more wacky antics as she realizes that the chaos she creates isn't cute anymore... and then there's absolutely no payoff. Instead, Kristen is at her quirkiest and most chaotic and other than a few dressing downs from some NPCs that she completely ignores nothing happens.

Like, I've never had a problem with Kristen's disaster personality. I think they handled it just fine in the first two seasons so that she never became too annoying or unlikeable. But it's just dialed up to 11 in Season 3. To the point where its genuinely not funny. And if chaos isn't cute, that'd make sense. It'd be on purpose, so everything can come crumbling down Fabian style and she'd have to become a better person. But that doesn't happen. So you're left sitting through all this garbage with the promise of a payoff that doesn't exist, which just leaves you bitter at the end.

It's especially frustrating when a few characters try to lead her in that direction. Like, Riz is working his ass off to get Kristen the presidency, something she only really wants as an ego boost, with no real platform or plans she can think of. He's the one joining all the clubs. He's the one making all the plans. Hell, he's the one making sure they're all doing well in their classes. And it gets to the point where his mom flat out tells Kristen that Riz would make a better president than her.

In any other story, that would immediately que the audience in to how Kristen's arc is gonna get resolved. With her abandoning the presidency and giving it to Riz, apologizing for making him do so much work for her and rewarding him for his effort. This followed up by deciding to be better for Cassandra, another person she mistreated and took for granted.

But she doesn't. Instead, she just makes Riz her vice president at the end and pushes all the work onto him AGAIN, to the point where it undoes the only character development he got all season (him shifting back to coffee from tea the moment Kristen makes him VP). And it certainly doesn't help that its the middle class white girl making her poor minority friend do everything for her.

Like, why market it as Kristen getting serious when that doesn't happen? Why act like she has some arc when she doesn't? It only makes the audience bitter when they went in expecting serious consequences and got nothing.

The marketing was very weird. Not only was there the false advertising with Baron's second form, which really hurts me to say as someone who sees Dropout as a bastion of ethics-based capitalism, but something just didn't sit right with me about the hype blimey got when it happened. Like, yes, it was funny, but like...ultimately I was like, alright? It wasn't anything actually important? It was specifically something Brennan was once again pushing really hard for them to succeed at because it was something they had to pass to continue to the next leg of the story?

Back when the Second Place episode of Game Changer came out, I saw someone complain about Dropout going back to the Brennan monologue well. I was like, hey, I love that shit, if you don't like the premise of a show don't watch it, right?

But here the commercialization of the cast's quirks and specific styles might have, I think, crossed a line, because of just how underwhelming blimey was compared to how it was built up. Like, Ally's quirky insane rolls drive Brennan crazy, haha, okay. The Brennan monologue well is, IMO, far from dry, but D20's hysterical theatrics in situations like that is getting stale, or at least that's how it felt this season.

#Dimension 20 #fhjy

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purplecoffee13 · 6 months

Text

The Fake Girlfriend - pt. 1

Summary: “Y/N hates Harry, but fake dating him for a while seems to benefit them both, and she wouldn’t pass an opportunity to torture him, of course. But the lines drawn are blurry, and the tension is high…”

Wc: 3.4k

Tropes: semi-enemies to lovers (she doesn’t like him)

Warnings: jealousy, (slight and mentions of) violence, sexual tension

"Okay, just let me see if I got this right. You want me to be your girlfriend during the wedding of your cousin to get your parents off your back about another girl?"

"Fake girlfriend." Harry corrects me. "But yeah, that's basically the gist of it."

I stare blankly at him before letting out a scoff. This must be one of the most ridiculous things I've ever heard, and I've had a guy call me 'daddy' before.

"Why don't you just reject the poor girl? I'm sure that message will get to your parents."

"Do you seriously think I haven't tried that?" He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I was just saying.." I raise my brows. I don't get why he's acting so frustrated, he's the one asking me for help. Which reminds me...

"Also, why me? You don't even like me."

When Harry and I first met, he was dating my old best friend, Marie. One night, he tried to kiss me while we were all out on the town, and I flipped out at him for betraying my best friend like that, and thinking I would ever go along with it.

The next day I told Marie about it, but she accused me of seducing him and we stopped being friends. Ever since then, I've hated Harry Styles. I hate him for creating that mess, for thinking I'd do something like that to my friend and I blame him for losing my best friend.

We never really spoke much to each other after that whole situation —besides the occasional forced conversation or collaboration during a project — so naturally I was surprised when I heard someone knock on my door and it turned out to be him.

"Because I don't want to go through the hazard of leading someone on, and all my other girl friends are taken and Leila's gay." He explains with a shrug.

"You won't lead someone on who's gay." I reason.

"My parents know Leila, so that wouldn't work." He counters, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. "So, do you want to do this or do have any other burning questions?"

As a matter of a fact I do, ass.

"What makes you think I would help you?"

Harry clears his throat, shifting on my bed until he's seated with his body towards me. I get a bit nervous with how serious his face expression is.

"I've heard the stories about Malcolm, how he's trying to get you back." My face falters once the sentences leave his mouth. I didn't know it was that obvious. I know that Harry senses my uneasiness, but he goes on anyway. "After what he did, I understand that you don't feel the same as him, and this way we can get him off your back."

I frown, because he's right. It would benefit me too, and I hadn't even realized it until he pointed it out.

I caught Malcolm cheating on our six month anniversary, which was about about two months ago. I immediately broke up with him, and blocked him on everything. Unfortunately, Malcolm had somehow divulged himself into the delusion that he could convince me to get back together and he has been annoying me ever since. And while fake dating Harry seemed like absolute hell, it would be the perfect opportunity to send Malcolm the message that I’d moved on.

Malcolm disliked Harry too. I’ve never known why and I don’t think I ever will, but I didn’t question it at the time because I didn’t think very highly of Harry anyway, and assumed he’d pissed Malcolm off during a project or something.

I let some dramatic silence flow over us that consists of me frowning very deeply as if I'm working everything out in my brain, but I quickly open my mouth to avoid drawing it out too long. I have to say that it sounds like it could be fun, and an opportunity to embarrass Harry in many ways, in front of his parents.

Now that's tempting.

"Fine, I'll do it." I give in, secretly getting more excited as I make up ways to torture him in my head. "Anything I need to be aware of?"

"Wedding's in Italy, so you'll have to fake a stomach flu." He casually remarks, as if it isn't something he should have clearly mentioned before asking this loaded favor.

"What?! I was going to spend spring break at my moms!" — not that I was looking forward to that — "And how in the world am I going to pay a ticket to Italy? You know what, maybe this isn't such a good idea—"

"The ticket has already been paid, you don't have to worry about that. But if you'd prefer to be with your mom instead of a hotel in Italy, that's your call."

Harry's face stays neutral, but I can see in his eyes that he's hoping for me to say yes. I'd be lying if I said I was excited to spend a week at with my mom and her new husband; Italy sounded way more appealing. So, that—along with the whole Malcolm situation—was the only reason I said

"Okay, I'll go."

*****

"Oh my goodness, how romantic! When do I get to meet him?" My mom chirps over the phone. Her voice has raised two octaves since I told her that I'd started dating someone in secret about a month ago, and that it was getting pretty serious and he was now taking me to Italy for his cousin's wedding.

It was a bit weird to lie to my mom, but most of what I was telling was actually the truth, so that made the lie a bit easier to keep up.

"Oh I'm sure you'll meet him soon. Sorry I won't make it during spring break, though." I feel the need to apologize anyway, we hadn't seen each other in quite some time and she'd really forced me to take time off from my life here and work on our relationship.

"Yes, well it would have been good to see you, but you're young and these are the adventures you need to go on!" She encourages me as kindly as she can, and I fake a smile, even though she isn't there to see it.”

"Thanks for understanding mom."

"Of course sweetheart. As long as you take lots of pictures, we're good." She jokes. After that, we just say our goodbyes and I hang up.

I'd been running around so much to try and find outfits for Italy that I'd forgotten Harry and I were launching our fake relationship at a party tonight. We didn't really set that many boundaries yet, but I was quite okay with anything. It had to be believable, and my hatred didn't make me blind. Harry was hot and I knew it, everyone knew it.

He was at my door at nine on the dot, which I hadn't expected. We drove to the party because Harry wasn't in the mood to drink, giving me a free pass to get wasted. However, I made a promise to myself not to get too drunk tonight and accidentally slip out the truth.

By the time we arrive it's around nine thirty and the house is already filled with people. Since I broke up with Malcolm, I haven't really been to a frat party anymore, I've grown to dislike them actually. However, this is the perfect place to be seen, and our friends were going to be here so our 'relationship' would be picked up on soon.

Harry and I agreed on the friends with benefits to lovers story, and that's what I start telling my friends while they look at me as if I have grown a second head.

"But you hate the guy, you just complained about him last week." Zoey, one of my friends, remarks, making my stomach drop.

Fuck, I did talk shit about him last Wednesday.

"Uhm– yeah, that was just to keep up appearances." I quickly manage to make up. They all hum in understanding, which is quite surprising to me. From the looks of it, I know that they're not fully convinced, but I hope they'll just see it as my crazy rebound phase and leave me alone.

"Well, as long as he makes our little Y/N happy, right?" Natalia throws her arm around me, raising her brows at the rest of the girls, and they all agree with her.

"Okay... but if he hurts you I will cut off his testicles, fry them until they're crispy and force them down his throat." Zoey grunts, squinting her eyes at Harry who is standing a few feet behind us. He has his back turned to us because he is talking to his friends, but it's funny nonetheless.

I notice that Zoey's glare quickly disappears and blood starts to rush to her cheeks. Just when I'm about to ask what has gotten into her, I feel someone throwing their arms around me from behind.

By the tattoos on his arm I'm immediately able to tell that it's Harry, and my heart starts racing at the realization that this little act needs to be kept up for a month or two, and it needs to be realistic.

"Hi sugar." Harry greets me sweetly before kissing me on my head. I fight hard to keep myself from vomiting at that hideous nickname, and play along.

"Hey hot stuff." I turn around, and I catch the twitch in his eyelids as the equally, if not more disgusting name leaves my mouth.

"You want to go get a drink?" He asks after letting out a small sigh. I nod, and he intertwines his hand with mine before leading us to the kitchen.

I can see the people staring at us with wide eyes, and I don't blame them. It is a rather weird look, me and Harry. However, I ignore it and focus on the main goal, I can't back out anymore so I might as well make it as fun as possible.

When we get to the kitchen, Harry immediately nominates himself as my bartender.

"What d'ya wanna drink, babe?" He asks, observing the countless bottles on the counter.

"Something strong please." I lean my elbows on the counter, watching in silence as I see him scanning the table before grabbing a rum bottle. He fills almost half of the cup with rum and the rest with coke.

He pushes it into my hands when he's done, a bit of the drink spilling on my fingers as I take the cup from him.

"Hey! Be gentle, boyfriend." I grumble, sucking on each of my fingers to clean the rum and coke off them. Harry's gaze lingers on my mouth and fingers a little bit too long, but he is fast to regain himself. Scoffing, he leans forward until he's inches away from my face.

"I don't do gentle, girlfriend." He mocks me before backing away from me again. "Taste it."

I give him a firm glare, but take a sip of my drink anyway. My eyebrows instantly knit together at the strong taste of the drink.

"You know I asked for a drink, not a horse tranquilizer."

"You said you wanted something strong. 'S not my fault you can't handle a bit of liquor." He says as he pours himself some soda. I roll my eyes at his little jab and continue drinking the strong drink anyway.

There is a bit of silence between us, and when I feel it get awkward, I decide to speak up.

"D'you want to go back to our friends?" I propose, tilting my head a bit as I wait for an answer. Harry's eyes avert from whatever's in front of him and throws me a small smile before nodding his head. I'm about to start walking when Harry suddenly grabs my waist, turns me around and pulls me into him. My drink nearly spills again.

"Just don't call me 'hot stuff' in front of my friends, it's an awful nickname." He pleads with a small smirk, occasionally breaking eye contact to observe the party.

"Says the one who called me sugar." The corners of my mouth start to lift too, liking this playful part of him. Because I spend most my time that I've known him hating him, I never really got to experience this side.

"At least mine is accurate." He reasons, grabbing my hips and guiding me until I have my back against the kitchen island. My heart beat picks up a bit; I'm not used to him being this close to me and I didn't expect him to be either. I remind myself that it's an act, even though we're not in front of our friends so technically there's no reason for him to get this close to me. But, I allow him, mainly because he smells so good.

"And why is that?" I ask, my eyes landing on the cross necklace dangling as he leans into me a bit. When I meet his eyes again, Harry has a smug look covering his face.

"Because I bet you taste real sweet."

His hoarse voice manages to awaken a tense feeling in my stomach. He closes the distance between us until our noses are touching, and a hitched breath leaves my mouth. He smells very intoxicating and I feel very floaty even though I've only had a couple of sips from my drink.

"You wouldn't mind if I see for myself, would you?" He pushes some strands of hair behind me ear before cupping my jaw with his right hand. I ignore the way my body is reacting. I haven't slept with anyone since Malcolm so this is the first time I've been so close to someone in a few months.

"Knock yourself out, hot stuff." I tease him. My laugh quickly fades away though, when he actually leans forward and kisses me. I didn't think he'd actually do it, I just thought he was purposefully riling me up.

I can't help myself to do anything other than go along as he deepened the kiss with the subtle entrance of his tongue into my mouth, entangling us even more than we already were.

A part of me was surprised to find out how good it felt, but something inside of me already knew. There was just something about Harry that always made me wonder. I mostly think it was because he managed to hit a nerve that nobody else could with his annoying antics and inappropriate actions, and I guess I always wondered if he would be the only one to be able to soothe it too.

This kiss makes me lean towards the idea that he indeed would be the only one to know exactly how to relieve me, just like he knows how to irritate me.

I have to say I'm a bit disappointed by how quickly he pulls away, but the smirk on his face gives me just about the same feeling as that kiss did.

"Let's go back, hmm?" He suggests, peaking his head to the side before planting a kiss on my forehead and putting his arm around me. I nod with a faint smile, my lips still tingling from that kiss and let his tight grip pull me further into him.

My smile immediately fades, though, when I see Malcolm staring daggers at Harry and me from across the room. My heart drops. I had no idea he was going to be at the party. The reason I actually agreed is because when my friends asked me to come initially, they assured me he wouldn't be there. I figured that his friends, who were here, would see us and that he’d find out that way.

There is no choice but to walk past him, and my hope for ignoring him crumbles when Harry decides this is the time to chat with him.

"Oh hey buddy, didn't see you there." He fakes some civility, and the puzzle pieces click together. Of course he wasn't kissing me because he wanted to; He saw Malcolm and wanted to piss him off to satisfy his own personal vendetta against him. I know it's what I agreed to, but it feels kind of weird anyway.

I don't want to be in the middle of whatever feud those boys have, and I definitely don't want to be confronted with Malcolm right now, so I wiggle my way out of Harry's arm and try to walk past the two. But when I do so, Malcolm grabs me by my arm and stops me in my tracks.

"Seriously? Him? Is this to get back at me?" He asks, the seriousness in his tone matching the crease between his eyebrows.

"Don't worry Mal, I'm sure there's a girl out there who'd like to settle for your small dick." Harry remarks, clearly pleased with himself.

"I don't have to explain myself to you." I growl at my ex, clenching my jaw. My second attempt to walk away fails when he tightens his grip even more as he pulls me back, which causes me to stumble backwards.

Before I get the chance to yell at him to let me go, as the painful feeling in my arm had turned into a lingering sting, his hand has disappears. When I look up from checking the fresh scratches on my arm, I see Malcolm pushed against the wall with Harry's hand around his neck.

Louis and Zayn, two of Harry's friends, are suddenly standing behind him ready to fight if necessary. I'm so stressed about how quickly this situation escalated that I don't give myself time to wonder how those two popped up out of fucking nowhere.

"Touch her again and I swear to God you'll never see the light of day." Harry threatens, and I actually find myself being kind of scared by his voice and his demeanor. He backs up, turning around with a frown that fades when he spots my widened eyes.

He pushes Zayn and Louis out of the way, his eyes and hands immediately focusing on my arm that still has a red handprint on it, along with a few scratches from Malcolm's nails.

"Are you okay? Does it hurt?" He tilts his head to see all the way around my arm, his fingers softly hovering over my elbow.

"'M fine." I huff, puzzled by how many sides of Harry I've seen today. "I'm gonna go home."

"I'll take you." He immediately offers, following me as I walk towards the door.

"I'll get a cab." I quickly make up, not wanting to be around him anymore. I walk out the front door at a fast pace, hoping he won't be able to keep up.

"Y/N! Stop!" Harry yells out, running until he's in front of me. "You're not going to take a cab, I'm going to take you home. C'mon, my car's across the street."

"What the hell do you care? You're not my actual boyfriend!" I say the last part a bit more hushed.

"I care because I'm a decent human being." He argues, setting me off more. I thrown my arms over each other.

"No you're not! A decent human being wouldn't use someone for the sake of their own personal vendetta!" I yell at him. Harry stifles out a laugh, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Isn't that exactly what you're doing?!"

"I'm doing this because this is the only way Malcolm will leave me alone. You kissed me because you wanted to set him off, to make him mad. What if he decides to get back at me when I'm alone one day?"

"He won't. He's too much of a pussy for that." Harry growls, but I can see that he's starting to see the logic in my argument.

"That's not the point, Harry!" I groan, throwing my head back and taking a deep breath. "Look, if we're gonna do this, we've got to set the record straight. I don't mind you kissing me, but it'll only be in public places to keep up the act, not for personal, selfish reasons. Understood?"

After some silence, Harry finally answers me.

"Yeah, okay. 'M sorry." His keys dangle between his fingers that he plays with as a nervous habit. "Can I take you home?"

I nod, throwing my arms over each other to warm myself up from the breeze that just passed over, and we start walking to his car.

Part 2 here

#Harry styles #fanfic one shot #one shot #harry edward styles #one ditection #fake dating #enemies to lovers

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mybworlds · 6 months

Text

Bittersweet

CHAPTER 1

status: ongoing

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: your life is full of 'must'. You live with your overprotective mother who controls every aspect of your life. You have a dream, to write romance novels, but love - real love - you haven't found yet. Your mother has even decided what you must do in your free time: play music. One day, however, when you go to your music teacher's house, you will have an unexpected encounter and from that day on things change…

rating: 18+ explicit (minors, DNI)

Before to start... Hello people, I know there are other two ff that I already started, but I dreamt this new idea for my new ff. So I decided to write it down it. So here we are. If you want to let me know what you think about it I'd be glad to read you.

No offence pls, if you dislike it go away :)

Thanks @vase-of-lilies for the banner

You always dreamed of doing something special, of being the person who would make a difference in the world….

So you hoped.

You hoped to become a great writer of romance novels, and you hoped to instill hope in the hearts of young people not to give up in the face of love and the possible obstacles that may arise.

But not all dreams come true.

In fact, you ended up working in a small bar on the outskirts of your town, surrounded by the many stories of the many diners who populate the place during the daytime or evening hours--depending on the shifts. These stories are the most different, and cannot help but feed your wild imagination.

In the evening, when you are not on shift, you write dozens and dozens of stories on your computer: some are shorts, some are very long and have happy endings, some less. It depends on your mood and how you imagine certain events you've witnessed or heard will end.

"I'm home!"

Your mother has just returned from a nearly seventy-two-hour shift at the hospital, she works in emergency medicine, and - since your father died (or at least she always said) - when she's not at home, you have to do everything, housework and bar work, grocery shopping, paying bills.

"Hi, Mom."

You absentmindedly greet her by putting down your computer glasses and crinkling your eyes in exhaustion.

"Did you buy groceries?"

The usual string of questions starts, to which you always answer with a distracted yes. You are almost 30 years old, but sometimes you feel like you are 40s or even 50s. Sometimes you think you would just like to enjoy youth, to be carefree, light-hearted, you would like to be free even to make mistakes, and instead you feel caged in this life. In a life where the only rule is you must.

"So you're okay with that?" your mother suddenly asks, making you get your feet back on the ground.

"What?" you ask confused.

"You might even listen to me for once!" blurts out Mom.

"I just got distracted for a second!" you exclaim trying to catch up.

Mom snorts, "I asked you if you were free tomorrow for your guitar lesson."

Ah yes, the exhilarating guitar lessons!

Mom, ever since Dad left (but she always said it was as if he was dead), has demanded that you take piano lessons first and guitar lessons later, like your father. You can't understand your mother, sometimes she seems to hate your father, sometimes she doesn't.

About love, you've always wanted it to be forever. Maybe it's just some romantic bullshit you always watched in movies or read in books, but you want to believe that there really exists out there for you, someone who is willing to love you for a lifetime. Too bad you haven't found anyone so far who is willing to love you the same way you love, to want you the way you want!

Going back to your guitar lessons, your teacher is a bit of a peculiar guy, a bit of a loner, a lover of many things and one opposed to the other. He's -- you don't know exactly how to define him. You've never been able to decipher him. He seems gruff, but at the same time he has a good side and probably deep down sweet.

Very deep down.

"Yes, don't worry." Mom, ever since he left, has become overprotective in some ways with you, has demanded to control you even though you are not so young anymore, wants to know what you read, what you see, what you do. It may seem normal, perhaps, for a mom to try to get to know what her child does, but not the way she does. If you are evasive for one reason for another, she becomes a hound, suffocating almost. Once she even demanded to read a chat you created with friends fearing that you might be in touch with a man much older than you, and instead she found herself a chat where you were exchanging sometimes funny and sometimes even private messages with some of your close friends from school, which even embarrassed you, but mom justified herself by saying she was doing it for you. She even banned you from driving for fear that you might have a car accident! You have a driver's license, but your mother won't even let you drive around town. She always has to be the one to drive you. These manias of hers are suffocating!

"Good. Do you have money to pay for it?" she asks you.

"Yes, don't worry," you reply, going to prepare dinner.

"We have to be very punctual or I'll be late for the hospital," she informs you.

"Do you have another night?" you ask her "It will be the fifth time in a month! But didn't there used to be shifts once even in the hospital?" you ask again as you prepare some pasta.

"Yes, but -- you know, there are only a few of us and then there are even more emergencies than usual."

You follow your mother with your eyes as you see her typing on her cell phone. Your mother sometimes looks like the young woman and you look like the mom.

What an unfair life!

The next day your life flows as usual, you get up very early, make coffee bringing it also to your mother, go to shower, get dressed and go to work.

At the café there is the usual hustle and bustle, who wants coffee, who wants a croissant, who wants a slice of pizza, who wants something else. You don't have a moment to yourself. Only when it's almost lunchtime now, you stop and go to the back of the store to eat your sandwich and smoke. Yes, you smoke. The only real transgression in your life. If your mother found out she would probably kill you, but you don't care smoking makes you feel good and maybe it makes you feel good because it's a decision you made, not because it was forced on you.

You rub one temple and look toward the road covered with a hint of snow. You wonder what you would have been doing by now if you had not been there with your mother, if maybe you were busy in college or maybe in pursuing some master's degree, you wonder who you might have been if you had dared to live your life to the fullest.

In the afternoon, your mother - after making sure you are dressed appropriately, that you have sheet music and whatnot - drops you off in front of your teacher's building.

The latter lives on the top of seven floors, it's practically a penthouse, it's beautiful place. Being with him -- a little less so.

When you knock, you are about to greet him, but a completely different man from your teacher appears in front of you. He is tall, much taller than your teacher and you, curly brown hair, dark eyes, a look that is at first grim, then curious, defined jaw line and curved nose. He is perhaps 40 years old.

You stand open-mouthed, thinking you had the wrong house for a moment, then realizing it's the right address.

"I was looking for Mr. Miller," you say.

"In person." he replies.

"Tommy Miller," you say.

"I'm his brother." he says again.

You are about to say something, but he is the one who interrupts you by asking if you are his student and calling your name, you nod in confusion.

"My brother had to leave yesterday morning. He told me you were coming and to wait for you to let you know." he clarifies by placing his hands on his hips.

He is incredibly muscular; you have never seen a man like him. He hits you right away.

"I see. Then -- I'll go." ready to leave.

You make to turn your back to him "Did Mommy tell you not to talk to strangers?" he asks making you turn back to him "I saw you get out of your mother's car." he adds noticing your confused look.

"What did you say?" you ask in annoyance.

You see him smirking and cross his arms "Are you afraid the big bad wolf will eat you?"

You wrinkle your forehead "First, I don't even know who you are." you say moving a couple of steps closer to him "And second…"

"Joel." he introduces himself by extending his hand.

"You're creepy -- Joel," you say looking first at his hand and then at his face.

"You, on the other hand, are shy." he notes looking at you and running his gaze over your figure. No one has ever looked at you like this. Making your skin warmed. "Yes, you are a shy little one." he adds, smiling and making wrinkles appear on the sides of his eyes.

"Your brother is definitely nicer," you say.

Lie. Tommy has always been very much on his own.

He just bends his head to the side, "Funny, people always told me I'm the nice one of the Miller brothers."

Gotcha.

"Well, maybe they never really knew you!"

"And you in less than a minute figured out who am I?" he asks, leaving you speechless.

No, you know very well that you cannot judge anyone in less than a minute. If someone had judged you in less than a minute they probably would have dismissed you as an ordinary young woman, lacking dreams of her own, trivial.

Perhaps the same thing applies to the man in front of you, Joel Miller.

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