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luvwestwood · 12 days

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❝ SAVE A COW, MILK THE ...!? ❞ - Choso Kamo

— (18+) .. SEEMS LIKE THE LOCAL MILKMAN HAS A DIFFERENT TYPE OF MILK IN STORE FOR YOU.

ᯓ★ warnings. (18+), milkman! choso, msub to mdom, overstimulation, titty jobs, p in v, resolved sexual tension, oral (m rec), squirting, slow burn, praising, slight? creampie, suggestive language and actions

ᯓ★ notes. I made choso soo whiny in this I fear.. please beware, there is a LOT of irony in this LMAOO.. plus I need him real bad I think u can tell, anyways hope u all enjoy, this was my 1.4k gift <3

4,862 words (17m read)

please check out and support the actual artists piece on twt!/ig, - @/iamdebruh! + art (center of heading) is by @/yunonoai on twt.

Eggs, sugar, heavy cream, flour, vanilla extract and.. and..?

You analyse the countertop carefully, eyes flickering over each ingredient you had pulled out of the grocery bags less than a minute ago.

"Let's try this again.." Sticking a finger out, you point at the produce one by one, performing a routine of a silly head-count. "Okay- eggs, sugar, heavy cream, flour, vanilla extract and…" Your index finger lands on an empty space that was yet to be filled, and finally, it registers into that brain of yours.

"Oh, how could I possibly forget the milk?!" You cry out in pure distraught, scanning the other countertops in hopes of accidentally misplacing it somewhere instead. Pretty useless though, as no sudden miracle was to be found anywhere.

Groaning, you bury your face into the palm of your hands— mentally cursing at yourself for forgetting one of the vital ingredients for the cream pie, how could you?

Hissing as you pace around the kitchen, you open the fridge with brutal force, head close enough to imploding as you rummage inside for a drop of milk to be found.

"There's no way I'm making a second trip. Not with these gas prices." You whisper to yourself, drawing your head back from being stuck deep inside the fridge, using the curve of your ass shut the doors.

Nibbling on your fingernails, you take one more glance at the ingredients on the counter; contemplating whether you should head back, give up fully and try another day, or….

ding dong!

Hand on hip, your head darts to one side, towards the sound of the doorbell. Who could it be?

Dragging your feet to the front door, you reach over by your side to the console table; digging your hands into the glass bowl for your keys.

Another knock sounds from the door, a deep voice speaking from behind it. “..Delivery!”

As you fiddled with the lock, you glanced over to the clock on the wall; reading exactly half past four in the afternoon. You weren't expecting anyone, really. You usually kept to yourself on Fridays, just to relax from a week’s worth of busy work.

Taking a swift look into the peephole, you could only see the glass covered with white— it seems that whoever is outside is clearly blocking the view.

The door opens widely, revealing a familiar figure you tend to see a few times each week— the milkman. You take note of the few beads of sweat glistening on his forehead, unable to be hidden by his cap. Did he.. run here?

Dark brown hair, tickling the top of his shoulders; cap embellished with "Milkman" just before the brim. Covered in white, bar his black pants. You recall that he goes by the name Choso, a piece of valuable information you managed to pull out of him during an interaction only a few weeks ago.

You must admit, your milkman was quite decent looking for someone with a position like his, and the cute bow tie encircled around his neck depicted him to look sweet and dandy. Wait, there's no way I'm swooning over my local milkman right now.

"Oh, Choso- How could I forget?!" You chirp, seems as if he came at the most ideal time you could possibly think of. "What a coincidence, just in time for my cream pie!"

His biceps scream against the fabric of his short-sleeves, begging to be let out as he tightens his grip around the neck of the glass bottle. "I-in time for your what?" Ears painted with a tinge of red, he looks shocked, more on the flustered side.

Letting out an anxious giggle, you point back behind you with the use of your thumb. "Sorry- I meant I was just about to bake a cream pie right now, and I realised I forgot the milk." Looking over your shoulder, then back at him, he smiles back; clearly flustered over the misunderstanding.

"R-right, I apologise, it's been a really long day.." He hands over the bottle, slightly crouching down to pick up his carrier that rested at his feet. "You're actually my last delivery today, they let me off early cause of the work I've done this week."

Holding the door open with your foot, you carefully place the jug on the same console table behind you, smiling to yourself as he went on a tangent about all the things he had accomplished this week— as if he was expressing genuine content rather than boasting.

"Well someone has been a good boy this week, huh?" You innocently beam at him, Choso's knuckles growing white as he clenched the carriers handle. He seems appreciative of the comment, but looks as if he wasn't used to receiving any.

"..Yeah.." Diverting his gaze away from you, he decides to stare down at the top of his shoes, until something you say has his eyes darting back up at you in a split second. The air so thick with tension, the two of you suddenly stay silent.

Humming before you speak your words, you ponder and wonder if your offer was a bit out of line. "..Would you like to come in for a bit? I could really use some help in the kitchen," Not hearing an immediate response from him, you add on, "You could have some of my cream pie afterwards. It would be a workout going down all those steps again, I assume!"

Choso reaches a free hand behind his head, scratching at his nape in contemplation. He knew that you were referring to the endless flights of stairs that were nothing but a nuisance to him as he tried to get to your apartment.

The fact that you had been the only customer in this entire apartment block, didn't have any effect on him though— as it was you he was looking forward to see each time he's out on the job.

Each time he dropped the same jug of milk at yours, only meant that his low lying interest in you would continuously grow, to the point that he couldn't think of anything else, but you. The man was whipped.

He wanted to get to know you better, but couldn't muster up the courage. He felt as if there never an appropriate time to do so, and the fact he landed a job as milkman, the guy assumed that you thought of him very little.

“I.. don’t know if I should..” He mumbles, anxiety and hesitation written all over his face— so easily read.

You roll your eyes, now leaning a shoulder against the doorframe, Choso slightly taking a step back to refrain from crossing a certain line with you so up close. “Come on, it’s not like I’ll get back to your boss with this!”

Crashing at yours for a bit meant that he'd finally have the opportunity to spend some time with you. Little steps, am I right? He couldn't miss out on something like this. Only a fool would do so.

"..I-I'd love to help you with your cream pie." He blurts out, lips parted due to solely being mesmerised. The two of you gawk at each other for longer than intended, but it doesn’t allow things to turn awkward. Was it the choice of words? The tone? What was it, really?

You blankly stare at him for a second longer than he did, nodding in approval. You had very little hope in him actually saying yes. "..Alright, come in." Beckoning at Choso, you step aside, noticing how he hesitates for a moment, just before he enters at his own will.

You watch as he walks further into the apartment, stopping considerably at a point just to not go out of bounds.

Your own eyes trail down his back, surprisingly so broad, that was now facing you. Having to peel your gaze away, you safely lock the door, dropping the key back into the dish beside you.

Grabbing at the jug, you make your way past Choso; taking yet another glance behind your shoulder for reassurance, just to see him trailing behind you like an obedient puppy.

"Make yourself feel at home, don't be shy!" You remarked, stepping around the kitchen island as you gathered the ingredients back onto the counters; Choso stopping just by the stools in front of you. He seemed all quiet and timid, even doing a double take before he decides to place his carrier on a stool beside him.

He sets aside his cap, politely tucking it away into his carrier before calling for you from across the island. “So.. Is there anything I could help with..?” Extremely eager to assist you in your endeavours, he found it so absurd that he was literally with you, right now, in your own apartment.

“I’m okay for now, just relax for the time being.” Your tone reassuring, you continue your current task as soon as you flash him another smile.

Swiftly putting some ingredients into a bowl, you still occasionally glance up at Choso— the second time round, you didn't even notice that he was already situated beside you, his hands gripping at the edge of the counters as he watched your every move.

"..Hmm, you ever made a cream pie, Choso?" You blurt out, carefully sieving the flour into yet another bowl. You must admit, your words intentionally had a different meaning to them. It was funny, and you knew he would flip out; his burning gaze at the side of your head being unavoidable.

His cheeks flash hot, words stumbling after one another. "I uh, haven't, no.." His voice growing small, you were right in thinking that he thought of a different kind.

Choso mentally argued with himself for doing so, as now wouldn't be the best time to feel his cock strain against his pants. He had to immediately swat the thoughts away, as they were already tight enough. "..Have you?"

His sudden reply had your sieving come to a halt as you slowly looked up to him next and you; just to see that he was still doing the same. Staring into his eyes, you try to think of an answer, swallowing the lump in your throat in the midst of it all.

"..No, I haven't." Your words come out in a whisper, noticing how his eyes alternate between yours and your parted lips. "I've never made one.. It's my first time today." Blinking slowly, you grow timid, your eyes making its way back to the bowl.

Resting your two hands flat down on the counter, Choso's breath hitches— his finger reaching down towards your chin. Guiding you to properly look up, he slightly crouches down to close the space between you two, and in a split second, your lips latch onto each other.

Eyes squeezing shut, you melt into the kiss, wrapping both arms around his neck to bring him closer; Choso letting out a subtle grunt as he hesitates about where to place his hands.

"I.. wanna touch you,” Resting his forehead against yours, his voice trembles, finishing with a helpless crack. Choso was practically begging you, and something about that just had you over the edge. "You don't know how much I've been wanting this.. I need you.. please..”

And he wasn’t lying. He wondered how your soft skin felt to his touch. He always wondered whether he would ever be able to have the chance to make you feel good.

Breathing heavily against his lips, you just nod hysterically, and in less than a second he slithers both hands under your ass, hoisting you into his embrace as he gently places you on the counter beside.

Your lips crash onto each others once again, Choso feeling up and down your body, his demeanor showing how much he's been wanting this for ages. He couldn't even believe it himself. You? Allowing him to have you? Is he dreaming?

A mewl escapes your lips as he cups your face into his hands, his ticklish kisses eventually moving down to your neck, the way he touches you seem so tender, and genuine, Choso didn't want to rush anything. He wanted to savour you.

He anchors himself between your legs— chest heaving so intensely from pure excitement. Meanwhile, you strip your top off, Choso swallowing a lump as he processes the fact that you had nothing else underneath this whole time.

He wastes no time, eagerly latching his mouth onto a breast, groaning as he firmly shuts his eyes, tongue relentlessly swirling around your nipple. His free hand fondles with the other as you comb your fingers through his hair, caressing it gently to let him know he's doing a good job.

You let out a string of breathy moans, a pop sounding from his mouth as he lets go. Pausing for a moment, you try stabilise your breathing, confusion written on his face.

"The sofa," You pant, Choso doing more so the same; his brows furrowed in despair as he yearns for more of you. "Let's move to the sofa.."

And he nods, beckoning you to wrap your legs around his torso once again, your arms being used as support to cling to him. You rest your head against his chest for a split second, allowing you to hear the ecstatic pace at which his heart was going at.

His feet stops just before the sofa, giving you the opportunity to drop back down, in which you suddenly grab his hand and pull him along. Choso seems perplexed, until you gently push him down onto the sofa by the chest, and he could do nothing but stare at you in pure adoration.

"Just relax yourself, okay?" Your voice soft, you kneel after he nods obediently, more than happy to agree with whatever you say.

You don’t dare look away, fingers toying at his belt buckle; which soon enough you end up undoing. Choso was about to lose his mind, and it took a lot in him to not leak right here, right now.

Tugging on the waistline of his pants, the man shifts his hips around to allow for more leeway. His mouth remains open as quiet, irregular huffs slip out, so eager to experience the very next thing you'll be doing.

Stopping as soon as his pants met his ankles, you smile, noticing the wet spot that had formed on his boxers— your hand gently rubbing up and down his protruding bulge. A whimper chokes out of him as he shuffles around a bit more, causing him to bite down on his bottom lip to suppress any more moans. He was too afraid to admit that anything you do has him melting.

All he could do was look down at you between his legs in bliss. Choso just couldn't believe it, and this was definitely not how he expected to end his evening.

His boxers follow after his pants, feeling him shudder under your touch as he comes into contact with the cold air. You shift around upon seeing his throbbing, leaking tip; not letting anymore time pass as you wrap your mouth over it, your satisfied humming sending vibrations to and through him.

Looking up to observe a reaction, Choso only slaps a hand over his mouth, groaning into it as his face returns to the same, crimson red; his other hand shaking as he tries to rest it on the back of your head.

Your head bobs up and down, cheeks hollowing and a free hand kneading at his balls for extra stimulation— Choso endlessly whimpering into his palm as his head falls back into the cushions, eyes eventually closing as he floated around in a pool of pleasure.

Buckets of spit trickled down your chin as you continued sucking him off, Choso squirming in the seat from time to time, his legs unable to stay still. You decide to take another peek, looking at him one more time, and thought to yourself; he seemed cute with the bowtie still on, his actions causing a flutter in your abdomen.

"Mmh," Muffled, as he was too busy suppressing a loud moan, he gives up, hand leaving his mouth to grab onto the sofa behind him. His other free behind your head tightens its grip, Choso suddenly fucking his hips up from the sofa, his teeth gritting as helpless grunts try to slip out. "Cu.. I'm gonna.. Uh.."

Your two hands suddenly place flat onto his thighs as he fucks into your throat, Choso's array of whines intensifying as he feels his balls contracting constantly, his face so warm to the touch.

So helpless, his two hands sets its place into your scalp, Choso bottoming his cock into your throat as he lets out a lengthy moan as a familiar feeling he had never felt washes through his body.

Tears welling up in your eyes, you mentally note to yourself to continue breathing through your nose, Choso’s prolonged groan causing a pool between your legs. You feel a rope of warm fluid shoot down your pipes, your hands repeatedly slapping at his thighs for a sliver of air.

His head hauling back down, he didn’t look the same as he did a few minutes ago— Choso’s eyes low and dark as he pulls you off his cock, a questionable grunt coming from him as he takes note of your fucked up face.

He tried his best not to laugh as you shot him a deathly glare, and of course failed. His smile fades, turning into horror as he watches you slide his cock in the midst of your cleavage, lip quivering as you drop an orb of your own spit on his tip that was slightly peeking out.

Choso’s hands grip at a cushion nearby on the sofa as you began to clamp your breasts together around his cock, moving them both up and down— throaty whimpers instantly emitting from him as you reinforced the stimulation on his still sensitive girth.

“Nghh—,” He cries out, mouth left gaped as he felt yet another foreign knot forming in his stomach; somehow identical to what he felt before orgasm, but just stronger.

“It’s too.. too much,” His words come out in a whisper, Choso’s let’s stamping the sides of your arms as you were anchored between them— his whiny voice trembling as he felt yet another impending orgasm that was about to hit him even harder.

A devilish smile plasters onto your face as you occasionally stuck a tongue out to chafe over his throbbing tip, Choso only able to let out deep grunts this entire as he occasionally looked down at you in a state of euphoria.

“Agai-n, I’m.. cum..” Incapable of finishing a sentence, his tit engulfed cock twitches, much thicker ropes of white shooting up into the air, dropping back down into your chest as it splatters droplets everywhere.

Choso’s head feels heavy at this point, his eyes lazily scanning his surroundings as he spots you decorated with the white drops that somehow managed to make its way to your face too.

Getting back to his senses, he attempts to sit up, legs still weak but with enough strength, his first instinct was to tend to you; the same hands clawed in your scalp making its way back to your cheeks as he kissed you so lovingly, his teeth nipping at those lips that were wrapped around his cock a few minutes ago.

Him being the first to pull always, it seems Choso has a request of his own. “..Get on the sofa,” he instructs, no sign of a stutter left to be heard within his words.

Chewing on your bottom lip, you beam a sinister smile as your aching knees rise off the ground— followed by you throwing yourself onto the sofa beside him.

You watch as he slightly jerks his cock, his eyes watching you take your turn obey orders. Raising your hips slightly to make things easier, you stripped the last of your garments; kicking away your underwear to the other side of the room.

Choso mirrors your actions, kicking off his shoes and trousers as he follows with his knee settling between your legs. You look up and survey his every move as his fingers yank at his bow tie, loosening it overall— his hands still trembling as he attempts to undo all buttons of his shirt.

You giggle, reaching down playfully toying with yourself as you place a foot on his bicep, shamelessly exposing your pussy even more to him as he peered down at you in utter silence.

Finally stripping away his shirt, the bow tie keeps its place and hangs around his neck— your impatient self subtly grinding against his thigh— your slick evidently leaving a mark on his skin.

“Just fuck me, Choso..” You whisper, sticking a finger into your leaking hole that has been that way ever since you made out with each other. Your words examined his ability to maintain his composure, Choso felt that it was time you did the things he wanted you to do.

His breathing hitches, Choso sucking in a breath as he leans in closer, as he guides the tip of his cock to align with your hole. An unoccupied hand grabs your legs, hoisting both on each of his shoulders.

Folding you into a mean mating press, your arms encircle his back, your moans tickling the shell of his ears as he slid himself in— throaty grunts also sounding from him.

Choso begins to move his hips slowly, your mouth gasping at his girthy cock stretching you out completely— his face buried into the crook of your neck as his hot breath fanned against your skin.

“Faster.. faster Choso..” You plead, his hips immediately snapping into you at a faster pace, his lowly grunts returning to the familiar whimpers as your gummy walls wrapped around his entire length. Feeling him in your gut, you chant his name like a prayer, Choso doing his best to fuck you in all the right spots.

A loud moan slips past your lips, your manicured nails scratching at his chiselled back like a kitty and it’s scratch post. As he fucked you into the sofa, something similar to a growl was heard from him as you dragged your nails down his entire back; surely leaving an evident trace of you behind.

Seemingly not enough for him, he uses his knuckles by your sides to prop himself up- Choso grabbing your ankles into the grasp of one hand and pushing them down further and infront of him this time.

On the verge of losing his mind, Choso’s hips brutally fuck into you, his cock deeper than ever— a white, creamy ring forming at his shaft.

His heart races at the sight of his thick cock disappearing in and out of you down below, Choso almost hypnotised at the sights as if he were eyeing a pendulum. His hand lets go of your ankles, grabbing for the edge of the sofa above your head— cock drilling you mercilessly into the cushions.

You mewl and whine, utilising maximum strength to keep your eyes open and hold a good view of Choso, his free thumb reaching down to swipe a stripe on your cheek as he coos a few praises at you.

The position you were in as of now had been churning both of your minds, Choso admittedly finding it difficult to continue fucking into you as he was about to cum at any given moment.

“Fuck,” he sucks in a breath through clenched teeth, eyes looking into yours as he studied your facial expressions, “So pretty,” Your cheek eventually fits into his palm as he fluctuates the pace at which he was fucking into you— nothing but satisfaction and adoration to be seen in his eyes.

His hips rut into your hole slow and deep, your hands grabbing at his wrists as you felt him bullying your cervix— cock endlessly rubbing between your walls, tip seldomly hitting against your sweet spots.

The legs of the sofa creak against the floor boards, eventually beginning to scoot itself to another side of the room. You couldn’t care less about consequences you might face with the downstairs neighbours tomorrow.

Strands of his hair stick to his forehead and temples, your fingers hooking around the strap of his necktie to pull in him closer, your lips yearning to have his on yours.

Your walls uncontrollably clench around his length, Choso’s head falling back in bliss; his mouth emitting short, overwhelmed breaths for a few seconds.

Your tits press against his chiselled chest as he fucks you silly, almost as if it was payback for treating him like he was clueless. Did you really think he’d let you boss him around?

Choso’s leans down once again, mouth sucking and leaving marks all over your breasts as he feels himself coming to one of his many orgasms today— buckets of sweat glistening over his physique like a glossy finish.

You grab at his bicep, slapping it repeatedly to give him notice of your impending orgasm— Choso planting a wet kiss on your lips to quickly swallow the ‘O’ your mouth had formed.

He instantly slides his cock out of your hole, taking his length into his fist as he pumps himself slow. His fingers fan over your clit as he ushered you to orgasm and make a mess, so desperate to have you cum all over him. Alternating between sticking his middle and ring finger inside, Choso curls his digits up as he jerks his fingers inside of you.

Your head peers down to see his forearms flexing with his every move, your eyes rolling to the back of your head; squelching noises coming from your pussy.

“Don’t…don’t do that-“ Your brows furrow, lips returning to its O shape as you attempted to hold his wrist as he continued to curl his fingers into you. He knew what he was doing. Choso wanted to make you squirt.

His pleas fucking your mind to an extent, it felt like a mixture of bliss and torture— your eyes struggling at this point to remain open.

“..Come on,” He urges, so needy as he strokes his cock as in-front of you as he watches how you unravel underneath him; Choso slapping his heavy length on your inner thigh whenever he has the chance. “Come on pretty, let go—“

“O-oh, Choso—“ You squeal, fingers reaching and scraping at his pelvis as he got back at you for fucking him up to overstimulation. Your nipples sore and perky, he had to resist the urge to suck on them again.

He spits out his words closely together, pressing his forehead against yours for the second time as you peered your eyes up into his.

“Come on, come on- that’s it,” Choso cooing at you as you released your juices all over his fingers, a sob could be heard from you as a hot flush rushes through your body.

His hand absolutely soaked as he pulls out, Choso nonchalantly wraps his mouth around his fingers, sucking on your slick— his saliva mixing in with the shining fluid that covered his hands.

Pulling you closer to his pelvis by hooking his two hands around your thighs, Choso slips himself back into your hole— your inner thighs soaking with juices.

A mutter of curses under his breath, Choso absolutely loved your warm walls taking his cock whole, his girthy length moving with ease due to the present slick.

Choso was on the verge of losing his mind once again as he realised that he literally got you to squirt less than a few seconds ago, his cock desperately throbbing all over again.

His cock fucks in and out of you, this time cautiously slow as he made sure not to cum inside of you— your clenching walls making it a difficult task for him.

Too sensitive, Choso pulls his cock out with haste, slapping his tip against your clit as he released his own load just outside of your pussy. His entire face flooded with rouge, cock profusely leaking; his grunts in synchronisation with his throbbing balls.

With the use of his tip, Choso pushes the load back into your hole, his cock completely stilling inside for the time being.

Your mind in a daze, you let out a sigh, Choso’s hand caressing up and down the side of your legs as he remained anchored between them.

“We literally just fucked off with the baking. Went and did a whole other cream pie…” You scoff, hanging your head off the sofa, an upside down view of your kitchen filling your vision— everything still left exactly how it was on the countertop.

Silently laughing, Choso takes your leg into his grasp, his head turning to the side as he plant a kiss on your calves. Bringing a hand down to your hole, he stuffs a digit or two in, scooping a few beads of his cum allowing it to coat his fingertips before moving his hand closer to your lips.

“..Milk delivery,” Choso chimes, mimicking his first words from outside your door earlier.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⤳ © luvwestwood ‘24 . all works are owned by me, and originally come from my own head. please do not repost on a third party platform.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⤳ as always, thank you for the love on each and every one of my posts! it means the world to me. ily all soo soo much!

[luvwestwood masterlist]

#choso kamo smut #choso kamo x reader #choso smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #choso kamo #jujutsu kaisen choso #choso kamo x female reader #choso x reader

1K notes · View notes

faebaex · 9 months

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TWST Characters - Big Spoon or Little Spoon?

author note: don't ask me what provoked this, i'm writing these silly little headcanons so that i can get it out of my head so i can write the things i'm supposed to be writing! forgive me for my slowness (｡T ω T｡)

characters: Heartslabyul, Savanaclaw & Octavinelle

Heartslabyul

Riddle Rosehearts

Little spoon who thinks he is a big spoon

He will try being both the big spoon and the little spoon respectively

But in his ACADEMIC opinion, he will declare that he is the big spoon

But despite how he insists that he is the big spoon, most nights he ends up falling asleep in your arms

If he wakes up in the middle of the night he’ll groggily try to rearrange but it doesn’t always work

Don’t tease him about it, sometimes he just needs the comfort of being held

Little spoon in denial basically

Ace Trappola

Silly straw who thinks he is a big spoon

No fr this guy will posture and insist that he is 100% big spoon material

But then as SOON as he falls asleep, he’s snoring and throwing his arms around and wiggling around, tossing and turning

Man will NOT keep still

The amount of times you’ve kicked him out of bed bc he keeps waking you up with his flailing

Rarely you’ll get a night where you comfortably sleep with him as the big spoon but don’t get used to it

Deuce Spade

Respectable big spoon

Probably one of the most comfortable people to sleep with

Will cuddle you well enough that you feel soothed but not tight enough that you can’t slip out if you want/need to

Always makes sure you’re comfortable, probably to the extent that you have to tell him to stop fretting

Good boy, 10/10

Cater Diamond

Undeniable little spoon

There is no doubt, just hold him pls

His favourite position is with his back to you bc he prefers it if you can’t see his face

Can’t have you seeing him vulnerable instead of his usual silly, goofy persona

Sometimes tho he’ll lay his head against your chest and you’ll have a little moment together

But don’t mention it otherwise he won’t do it again

Trey Clover

Big spoon

As if there was ever any doubt

He actually really likes spooning, he likes the intimacy

He likes the feel of your heartbeat and being able to stroke a hand through your hair or watch you as you sleep

Plus it is easy for him to slip into bed next to you if he’s stayed up late to finish baking

Savanaclaw

Leona Kingscholar

Big spoon but only because he treats you like a living pillow

I mean let’s be real all this man does is sleep

So there is no way that you will be anything but the little spoon here

He’ll think its funny if you try to be the big spoon and then just push you underneath him and resume business as usual

Spooning with Leona is either incredibly comfortable or the most uncomfortable sleep you’ve ever had – there is no in-between

He pretends not to care if you voice any discomfort but genuinely will try to be more attentive in future

Jack Howl

Big spoon

But he goes to bed sooo early so you don’t always get to cuddle

Sometimes when you sneak into bed he’ll roll over and engulf you in his arms

As if he sensed you in his sleep

But other times Jack sleeps like a rock

So its kind of hit and miss

But when you do get to spoon, it feels like you are encompassed in a huge, never-ending hug

It may even be tempting enough for you to become a morning person, if you’re not already

Ruggie Bucchi

Little spoon 100%

My man just likes to cuddle up after a long day of making thaumarks and running around taking care of Leona

So there is nothing he loves more than snuggling into your chest or side and passing out

Plus being the little spoon makes it a tiny bit easier to slip out in the morning when he has to do one of his early morning jobs or get Leona's breakfast ready

Plus plus having you there makes his bed feel just that little bit more comforting :)

Octavinelle

Azul Ashengrotto

Little spoon who thinks he is a big spoon #2

You’ll fall asleep with him being the big spoon but you always ALWAYS wake up with him somehow in the little spoon position with his arms and legs wrapped around you

Will insist this is a misunderstanding and that he slipped bc he’s still not used to beds yet

He actually loves nothing more than burying his face into your chest and feeling nice and safe

Nevertheless he will go to the grave insisting that he is the big spoon

The biggest little spoon in denial, no one compares

Jade Leech

Big spoon

The only time he is a little spoon is when he gets too excited about mushrooms or something and needs to calm down while you stroke his hair

Otherwise he is a big spoon through and through

Thing is though, his grip is TOO strong

Once you make the decision to spoon with him, there is no escape

His arms will be wrapped so tightly around your waist that you can’t even more an inch away from him

He has absolutely no remorse about it either the next morning, he’ll just give you his little closed eye smile and be all ‘whoops’ but hold you just as tight the next time

Floyd Leech

Hear me out, hear me out

100% a little spoon

He gives off big spoon energy but actually prefers to wrap himself around you and have you hold him and play with his hair and give him back scratches

Be careful if he’s in a silly goofy mood though because he’ll start nipping at you

Thinks its hilarious when you’re relaxing and you suddenly yelp bc he’s nipped at your side

But usually he behaves himself bc sometimes he’s a little touch starved so he really likes it when you hold him

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soulren · 10 months

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Go spend some time on male pattern baldness or male(AMAB) balding forums/subreddits and such. I did after realizing it is happening to me and the ammount of people who truly don't realize how BRUTALLY it tanks people's confidence and mental health is insane.

There's no cure to baldness by the way, and it can start at any time and there's no way to predict how fast or slow it will go. The only real working option is a daily pill that usually just halts it, but it can stop working or just slow it down or cause major side effects. To regrow you have to use a daily topical solution, or use a roller to wound your scalp. None of these are surefire by the way, and if you stop them you'll just lose your hair and whatever you regained. It's a daily involved thing that might not work and often at best just retains. The best drug, the one that occasionaly gives regrowth, also causes shedding at the start, and can have side effects from growing breasts to brain fog to EDsyfunction(sorry, censoring cause tumblr). Now, those are INCREDIBLY rare and almost never happen but it weighs heavily on the mind of those already spiraling.

But that's just background. What I'm here to talk about is the pure woe you'll see on those forums. People speak as though their lives are over, as though they've lost every chance of finding a woman(predominantly, there's a running idea in such places that women don't like bald men or like them less) or doing anything. You can read countless stories of people who describe that they no longer go outside, are now filled with anxiety and self-hate, have gone from extroverted to never showing their face. And some of these people are kids who lost their hair in high school or even before, or are holding as best they can to a very receded hairline and feel like there is nothing they can do.

And then there's something touched upon far less in those communities, but is important to bring up here; baldness and masculinity. There's the horror of knowing so much of society sees a bald guy as a very masculine guy, at seeing that the best advice for being hot and bald is "grow and beard and big muscles bro". Imagine now you're AMAB balding and nonbinary, or a trans woman who doesn't want to be on hormones.

Just genuinely take the time to look at those forums no matter who you are. Understand what these people go through, what I am currently going through. It is soul-crushing, spiraling, brutal. I have the dream of one day being like Brennan Lee Mulligan or Matt Mercer and starting to lose my hair made me feel like I could never. I felt like and still feel like I would have to be masculine, have to be a bro-y dude, have to look older than I was(I'm fuckin 22). It was the feeling that I could never dress feminine again, never present as a woman when I wanted to again, that I'd always be viewed as a bald guy before anything else.

This is an incredibly vulnerable post for me, and I hope it reaches you all as well in a kind and understanding mood. There's a tendency online for people to joke about baldness, to make fun of it, to treat it as a playfull silly thing but it fucking ruins lives, and it shouldn't. It happens to half the population's sort of bodies and very often. It should just be a neutral thing. You don't need long hair to be feminine, you don't need hair to be feminine. You don't need hair for anything. I guess I'm just saying in general that everyone should be kinder about balding, more understanding, and view it with as much import as they'd view the pixels between this sentence and the next. None at all, I mean.

And for those like me, very feminine guys who wanna keep that and don't want a beard and are terrified of balding, here's some names and I do hope others that see this will add more; Mr. Bruce (also in The Correspondents(band) Alex Ward in LA By Night Jason Carl in LA By Night Cecil Baldwin of Welcome To Night Vale Bob The Drag Queen RuPaul(in looks alone, I know about the whole fracking stuff but this post is about looks) tananasho on instagram Also your mannerisms and style of dress will convey femininity far more than your hair. Yea sure a front-on neutral shot of you may not and maybe you need makeup and stuff, and hell maybe a lot of people might reject you more but it'll just filter down to the people for you.

And to all you artists and writers and creatives; make more bald characters. Try it out. Feminine ones, masculine ones, all sorts. None of the copout nonhuman sort, just dudes and girls and mates and individuals who are all sorts of things and also bald. It might make a few of the people going through the various vortexes of pain that balding causes feel a bit better.

And to those noticing I did not adress female hair loss much here, that was intentional. I am AMAB and currently a nonbinary guy who goes by any pronouns but often likes to present as fem. I learned I was possibly losing my hair and lost two months of my life, no work or going or anything, to male hair loss forums and research and spiraling. Checking my hair twenty times a day, unable to sleep, unable to eat, unable to think. And my situation was NOT unique, but it also did not give me any experience or understanding of female hair loss and what AFAB people may go through with that, so I don't feel knowledgeable enough to speak on it. Also living with baldness WILL get easier and you will find something that works for it, by virtue of simply living with it. Things get easier with time.

#bald #balding #hair loss #hair #hair care #minoxidil #dermaroller #baldness #bald and feminine #bald fem #using a lot of tags due to this being triggering for many and cause I want it to be seen #and because I want those who went through what I did to be able to find it #mpb #androgen alopecia #also I know this post is long but I'm not sorry cause it's important. If even one person has a bit less stress then that's good.#feminine bald man

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kaibutsushidousha · 28 days

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Kodaka April Fools tweets 2024

Lying just because it's April Fools' is so dull. Honestly painful to watch. Lying in general doesn't do you any good. In my younger days, I told every lie I could, saying some genuinely insane stuff about being a supreme leader of evil and whatnot, and thanks to that, now that I'm in my thirties, I got famous for all the wrong reasons and can't find a stable job because people think I'm associated with the yakuza... Sigh, I wanna deck my cringe younger self's face. Quit lying for fun while you can.

My classmates aren't doing great either. Thinking you're hot shit during your school days always comes back to bite you... My advice to my past self: slow and steady effort is worth more than any talent. Also, the part of life you spent larping with that silly horse laugh is not going to be one you'll want to remember later. I wish I could make that clear to him. White lies aren't a thing. Talent is never enough. My class is proof of that. Wanna know what my classmates are like now that we're in our thirties?

Akamatsu became a piano teacher. Her player skills capped off in her teens, it seems. But she's not that good at teaching so she's considered kinda mid at her job. And now she's struggling with the father of a student incessantly hitting on her. Tough world to live in.

Toujou opened a housekeeping company but she was too strict with her employees so everyone quit. And now she's doing everything on her own. Sucks to be in your thirties without any successors or employees. She's a prime example of how being so much better than anyone else doesn't do you any good. Well, she's always working for celebrities, so she's doing well financially, but I heard about some major court fight about a missing item under suspicion of theft from one of her clients. That can't be nice.

Yumeno got to her thirties still saying magic is real, so she's past the point of no return. She agrees that's an unhinged way to live, but she's too old to suddenly change gimmicks. Work takes her all over the country, but her gimmick doesn't allow her to publicly drink, so she has to get plastered alone in her hotel room after shows. I wish she could fix her life with real magic.

Harukawa? ...Haven't heard that name in a long time. Now she was a living edgy fantasy. The past tense was because I hadn't heard of her in a long time. I don't know the details, but apparently, she went to some war zone outside of Japan because her first love didn't want to date her. Takes some real edgelord to react to a broken heart like that, but if she's still alive, I have no idea how her thirties are treating her. My personal guess is that she's a mother of many.

Chabashira opened her Aikido school but is having a hard time attracting students. So she had the idea of starting an anti-sexual-harassment campaign that could double as advertisement, but thanks to her cluelessness when it comes to romance, she got canceled for mistakenly tossing men in regular couples. She's still doing the "degenerate males" bit in her thirties. Girl really needs to get on with the times. Rumor goes that she still downs huge packs of tequila bottles with Yumeno every now and then. Really don't think there's any salvaging her reputation.

Shirogane is an office lady still continuing her cosplay hobby on the side. She could be doing well if she knew how to keep her mouth shut but frequently rambles about cosplay history and etiquette, so no one likes having her around. Stay emotionally dependent on a single hobby long enough and your passion starts to close you off to others. That's her problem.

Angie was the most successful in the class! She made big money both on the art and the religion fronts. However, there were some controversies about her devotees selling counterfeits of her paintings at exorbitant prices and one magazine made a huge news coverage of it, which resulted in her catching the police's attention. She's been recently untraceable, with the rumors saying that she'll never be back to Japan.

Oh, and Iruma... Up until some point, she had the best life of all of us. She made big money off of her inventions' patents. So far so good. Things only started going off-rails after she married an ex-stripper. The two started a YouTube channel together. And later, her husband ran in last year's elections and lost big time. They got an awful debt from his election campaign and she had to get into side jobs to pay it off. And her husband? Disappeared. No word from Iruma herself about what happened. Tough world to live in.

No further updates from Kodaka in the past 3 hours, so I assume he went to sleep and will come back to tweet about the 7 remaining boys in the morning.

#kokichi ouma #kaede akamatsu #kirumi toujou #himiko yumeno #maki harukawa #tenko chabashira #tsumugi shirogane #angie yonaga #miu iruma

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vivwritesfics · 2 months

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can you write something where lando’s gf has a bad migraine and he takes care of her? thanks!!

as someone who suffers from insanely shitty migraines wayyyyy too often I jumped at this one

There comes a point where you have so many fucking migraines that you just give up. That, no matter how bad they get, you have to suffer through it, that you can't stop everything every few weeks because of another fucking migraine.

Lando had met her before she had given up trying to take care of her migraines. She still laid in bed with water and pain killers, with the curtains drawn and the lights off, with a cold compress against her forehead.

That was years ago. Since then she'd grown sick of the constant days in bed, feeling shitty for herself. Now, she didn't tell Lando about the migraines, didn't want him to worry about a silly little headache.

She got on with her day, went to work, and suffered through. She kept her phone turned off, since the brightness did nothing but make her feel sick. She got on with things.

Her work was so fucking slow. But she couldn't go much faster since the migraine was killing her. Her bosses and co-workers noticed. There was no point in her being there if she could barely do any work.

She drove home slowly. Thank god it was the middle of the day and the roads were pretty much empty. She pulled up outside of their apartment, got out of the car and shut the door as quietly as she could. As miserable as she was to have to go home early from work, she couldn't wait to get into bed.

Lando was in the apartment, gaming, when she walked in. He was streaming, she could tell by just how loud he was being.

Shutting her eyes for just a moment, she dropped her things by the front door and walked towards the room he was in.

The room was dark aside from the light from the monitor and the strip lighting behind him. Her head immediately pounded, but she pushed through and knocked on the door.

Immediately Lando paused his game, pulled his headset off and turned towards the door. "Baby," he said as he took in the state of her. He stood from his chair and rushed towards her, pulling her into his arms and pulling her head into his chest. "Migraine?"

"Migraine," she answered and slowly nodded.

Wrapping his arms around her, Lando walked her towards their bedroom. He sat her down onto the bed and began closing the curtains. "Get into your pyjamas, I'll get you some water," he said and kissed the top of her head.

As Lando walked to the kitchen, she sat there for just a second. With the curtains closed she finally felt better. But she got herself up and got changed out of her work clothes.

Lando returned with a glass of water and two painkillers. He pulled back at the covers and she crawled beneath. "Thank you, Lan," she whispered, but he disappeared again.

She shut her eyes. Less than a minute Later Lando returned. He pressed a cold compress to her head. "I'm gonna go and finish the stream real quick."

"Hurry back," she whispered and Lando nodded his head.

He went back to the stream just to end it. The chat was asking why, but Lando wouldn't answer. He just ended the stream and returned to his girlfriend.

Lando was so considerate. He climbed into bed with her and pulled her close, letting her rest against his chest. Lando knew he snored, so he made a point to stay awake until she was fast asleep. Even then, he was hesitant. His priority was her, was to make sure she was happy and comfortable.

He loved her through her migraines.

#lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris fluff #lando norris smut #lando norris x reader smut #lando norris x you #ln4 #ln4 imagine #ln4 x reader #f1 #formula one #f1 imagine #formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine

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redr0sewrites · 1 month

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Can you write Vox x reader where like the reader just says like really unhinged things and just like vile things whenever they rage and stuff like the internet could be slow or smth and the reader is just like “IM GOING TO RIP OFF MY SKIN” idk man I’m kinda just self projecting rn like you can right anything with it tbh idk sorry for rambling anyway you don’t have to do this if you don’t wanna

THIS IS SO MEEEEE I LOVE THIS IDEA SM!!! sorry it took me a hot minute to reply to this i have over 70 hazbin hotel requests in my inbox 😭

🥀Cw: fluff, crack, silly vox

when he first met you, vox was charmed by your seemingly sweet nature- that is, until you were pissed

your unholy screech of how you were going to rip off your skin if he cut the wifi again was both endearing and confusing in his eyes

vox would just short circuit for a second, just blinking at you while he tries to process what you just said

once it clicks, he just starts giggling. vox very rarely genuinely laughs, most of his laughs are professional or part of the persona he adopts as the leader of vox enterprises, but when he's so shocked by what you just said, he can't control the booming laughter thay fills the room

he's wheezing and gasping, each barking laugh only pissing you off more

"what's so funny? if you keep laughing i am going to fucking break ur fingers like carrot sticks!" you snap, and vox only giggles harder

after a few seconds, you can't help but notice how adorable his laughter is, and soon you don't mind it as much

once you two are officially together, you notice how stressed vox often is, yet how he seems to visibly relax around you

the batshit crazy things you say, which normally disgusts other people, only seem to amuse him

its actually a wonderful dynamic because you bring some spontaneity and slight insanity into vox's otherwise irritating and depressing lifestyle, and vox balances out the crazy things you say and calms you down every time

you often find yourself searching for new phrases to baffle him with, and for new ways to make him laugh

after vox has a stressful day, he enjoys just listening to you ramble about the most insane things and adores hearing whatever fucked up saying you've adopted recently

vox notices himself beginning to copy your speech patterns. he only begins to realize when he slips in an exceptionally odd metaphor into a work meeting and everyone stares at him, yet his heart skips a beat at the thought

there's something so charming to him about the fact that he's adopting your mannerisms, and you truly make him laugh when no one else can

whenever another one of the vees pisses him off, he always comes to you for advice on incredibly deranged comebacks, and you never disappoint!

he's won multiple arguments by just repeating one of your fucked up sayings and the other vees being too lowkey shocked to disagree

vox LOVES IT when you diss people he hates, hearing you ramble some fucked up insults about alastor made him fall in love with you all over again

"that worm on a string fucked up karen cut bob looking ass- if i see him around here again im going to eat a fucking brick" *cue vox looking at you with the biggest heart eyes*

overall, you are both menaces, but you're menaces in love ♥️

vox lay with his head in your lap, the blue light of his screen illuminating the dim room as you rambled mindlessly about your day.

"and THEN, this fucking asshole tried to flirt with me! ME!! as if he doesn't know were dating! ugh, it makes me feel like i have an entire beehive living beneath my skin. i swear if he even looks at me again im going to lick wet cement i can NOT deal. how can you even work with him? he's such a fucking CREEP voxy, i'm going to cut off those ugly ass wings and shove them so far down his throat- hey, are you even listening?"

you look down to see vox half asleep, his eyelids drooping as his light dimmed. "keep talking.." he murmurs, looking up at you with a lazy smile on his face. "you're my favorite person t' listen to.."

i love the idea of vox with a partner who challenges his very idea of power. he clearly wraps himself in a sort of persona, surrounding himself with powerful people and acting like he's so serious and important. i love the idea of him falling in love with someone who can break down his walls in seconds, someone who can dismantle his entire bravado act and who allows him to truly be himself. this is such a wonderful prompt and i am eating this up. nonnie ur awesome!!!!

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kneelingshadowsalome · 8 months

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Immortal (Ghost x Medic!Reader Pt. 3)

"The path to paradise begins in hell."

— Dante Alighieri

Word count: 5.5 k

Summary: He knows now why he always returns to her. It's because he was injured. Badly, severely, life-threateningly injured – no, he was already deceased. What kind of a medic has the power to resurrect the dead? (Last part of Ghost stories.)

Tags/warnings: 18+ only. Angst, fluff, smut. Protective!Simon Ghost Riley. Graphic depictions of PTSD, suicidal thoughts and depression, mild violence. Emotional sex, love confessions, happy ending. Ghost POV.

"You can't come here, lieutenant. Not unless you're injured."

No one has ever scolded him.

He's the one who whips people into shape, who makes them recall who and where they are, that Task Force 141 is no place for fuckery. Now he's the one being reminded of his place.

Somehow it's ok to bring her flowers before dinner, but ever since he started to bring her coffee to get an excuse to see her at work, she began to shut down. He can fuck her doggy style at her place, but if he so much as lifts his mask to kiss the back of her neck at her office, she bats him away like an annoying fly.

And he's fucking confused.

He thought he was doing the right thing. He thought that women like to be courted. Now he's standing in the middle of her apartment, waiting for… he doesn't even know what. Pardon, perhaps.

"Why do you always call me lieutenant?"

"Well I can't call you Simon at work, can I?"

She's chaste and decent. Has been like that for a while now, retreating back to her role of a distant professional.

Something's troubling her, and he tries to get to the bottom of it. Tries his best to cheer her up, even if it's absurd that someone like him attempts to do that.

"Y'could use the alias."

"I'm not going to call you that."

She reads Virgil while making it clear that he's quite ridiculous. A ghost. It must remind her of a children's book rather than something stealthy and fatal; to her, it's a grown man's sad attempt to play a superhero.

"Did you come up with the name yourself?" Her voice has a whiff of irony as she finally spares him a glance from her hard-cover poetry.

"...No," he lies, too soon. Far too soon. She catches him on it, pants down.

"You're a silly, silly man." She shakes her head slowly and returns to her book. Last week, it was Dante who had better things to offer, far better things compared to him – such as a more poetic depiction of hell.

But even with the distant aura he can't quite pierce, she gives him a concept of what it would be like to have a home. A real home where you don't have to dread the evening and everything it brings out in people. Even when he was doing the SAS Fan Dance and lying on the cold ground to have a compulsory 2-hour shut-eye, he never missed home. The weather-beaten trail and a flapping tarp were still a cosier place than the one he'd left behind.

The closest thing to an actual home was always solitude. A few days without routine. A cold shower in the morning to wake him, but not frigid enough to kill the erection. A good, unhurried fap and some stale spit circling down the drain. No one giving him a pitiful eye for tossing old takeaway in the bin and opening the cupboard only to be met with some canned food and table salt.

Now, the first thing in the morning is the sensation of her. Fingertips sneaking their way under his arm and ghosting his stomach, stirring him so softly he doesn't quite know if he's gone to heaven. Home is a sleepy nest and slow kisses followed by the sounds of brewing coffee. Home has become a place of mundane tasks: helping her water the plants and tasting whether the vanilla pudding she made has enough sugar. Changing sheets together, listening to the fitful sea as it breaks upon the shore. Watching how she reads of the Trojan War.

When he just stands there, admiring how her manicured nails glide over the pages, she talks to him again without raising her lashes from the book.

"Did you need something?"

…You. All of you.

Now and forever.

"Ya wanna go out to eat tonight?"

Finally, he grabs her attention. The distance between them is sewn up so fast even a jerk like him can understand he finally made the right fucking move.

"What about your… The mask?"

He shrugs.

"I thought you liked my cooking," she gives him a smile. Sly… Foxy.

"I do. But let me feed you for a change."

He sees in that stare and the way she purses her lips that she's trying to prevent a dirty joke from coming out of her pretty little mouth. As much as he appreciates that little cunning look, as much as he loves when that mouth gets a little dirty, he's more than serious now.

"Come on. Let me take you out."

"Well. If you insist," she smiles, shuts the book, and flies to her closet to pull out a stunner of a dress.

…..…..…..

Her fingertips always make his cock stir. They were supposed to go to sleep – a rare thing, to not slip inside her after a nice lil evening. To his surprise she starts to trace the few hairs on his stomach, threading through them as they thicken below.

He can feel how she gets tense upon seeing that he's hard and heavy before she even reaches there. But she's not tense from anticipation.

"I overheard some of the guys talking about us. Or, well, me."

His cock gives a tug, and she still doesn't touch it.

"How I'm your luxury whore."

The curtain shifts as the wind plays with it: softly, while he's ripped out of the dark safety of the womb.

"Luxury…" She laughs, but it's bitter and thick. "Isn't it funny?"

He's hard now mainly because of the fury that rises. It ripples through his chest and pulls his stomach taut.

"Was it the rookie?"

He hears his voice from far away, from under the sea, but luckily, her hand brings him back. It's placed on him again, this time further up. She likes to trace the cavity between his pecs, pet the hair she finds there, too. Sometimes, she buries her face there and inhales his sweat, then uses that spot as her pillow. It's that very moment when he finds peace if he already hasn't by then.

"You don't have to defend my honour," the night speaks softly.

So, it was the rookie.

Nothing but a boy, younger than Soap and cockier than he was when he left Manchester with nothing but a duffel bag on his shoulder. Nothing but a boy, and she knows how boys are. She knows how boys talk. She wouldn't be in the Force if she took filthy quips seriously.

But this is fucking different. The fantasies of what he'll do to the fucker when he gets back get sicker and more beautiful by the second.

"Just… don't come there anymore unless you're injured. Ok?"

He can't hear her because the vile word overrides even the gorgeous visions of torture. It gathers up his throat as bile, and he barely has time to take a deep breath to force it down before it's too late.

"I'm gonna go take a shower."

"At this hour…?"

"Can't sleep anyway."

He reaches the bathroom just in time before the vomit flies. The power of it forces him on his knees, forces him to take hold of the door frame. Everything he fed to her shoots up, like it was only a dream that he could make her happy.

…Are you just here for sex?

Her shy question echoes from the tiles as another retch pulls the rest of his love out.

He's sweating worse than the time they had to operate him in the field, back when a bullet had worked its way through the naked spot between the straps of his plate carrier. The shower washes some of it away, but the stench stays, the foul word and the insolence, all the shallow things he has given her coat the insides of his mouth no matter how many times he tries to spit it away. The water only does so much, and she's still not asleep by the time he returns to her.

The luxury is waiting for him, silky and sweet.

Wet, even, if he wants.

"Baby… Honey?"

Baby.

He feels his guts in his throat again but swallows them down. She's beautiful, even when sad and sorry. Sorry, and for what? For him, instead of herself and what she's been called, the spite she has had to suffer simply for lying down in the filth with him.

"Are you okay...?"

"Yeah."

He goes to her, pulls her in his arms, and hopes he doesn't smell of puke.

"They're just words. Right?"

I'm more than just your whore, right?

Her hand doesn't shy away from the sweat that breaks through his back. She's not afraid of him, even when he's the monster she never asked for. He can respect that kind of fearlessness.

"You're awfully quiet," she tries.

Baby, please don't go berserk, is what he hears.

"Go to sleep, pet," he calls forth his softest voice, relieved to notice it sounds more like a lullaby than a command. He allows her to kiss him, wondering if she can taste the grave.

"Yes, sir," she breathes a soft smile in his mouth. Then she turns and coats herself with his arm. It must feel heavy around her, but she only gives a happy sigh. "I always sleep better with you. You feel so good… Safe."

He wonders how strange it is that love sometimes feels like pain. Her words come close to a knife slowly being pushed to his insides. They're still burning when she mutters the last essential thing, already half-asleep in his arms.

"They're just words, Simon…"

…..…..…..

He doesn't know much about poetry, but perhaps Dante was right.

The heart of hell is not a fiery lake of torment but an icy, cold, stagnant place. There's nothing there. Everything is frozen: screams, thoughts, even dreams.

He's walked through grey rubble and drenched asphalt, through alleyways of havoc and debris, he's trekked through desolate woodland and marsh. He's run through life like it's a day-to-day race to not get killed, but the worst of it isn't the bullets or the cold or the wind or the rain. It's the sleepless nights, the inertia. His soul in chains. On those nights, he wanted to get killed.

And yet, he's not the only one who has suffered the unfortunate event of being dragged through every plane of hell. He's not the first man to go through the funnel, nor is he the last. It only looks bad in a society where he's supposed to own a credit card and a house. It only tastes like shit when someone asks "How does it make you feel?"

People like him shouldn't go to therapy at all. His solution was to quit playing a modern man the minute he realized he's no longer fit for that role. He's simply a dead body, reanimated to serve a purpose. He's a sharp tool, a weapon. (A zombie.)

He serves the greater good, but everyone knows the greater good is propaganda too. There's no grand fight between light and darkness. Good and evil only conduct people's choices: even his old man must've thought he was making the world a better place by playing the rebel. He told him he served the Queen just to piss that sodded bastard off, but the truth is he never served anyone. Not even himself.

Now, there's an odd purpose to his task. Now, every cell in his body is full of animus.

He's an animated corpse, perhaps, but they forgot to bury the wrath.

"Where's the rookie?"

"Getting stapled."

"Where?"

Which room?

Which fucking room?

He doesn't stay to heed directions. He doesn't need them; his instinct tells him enough. He doesn't even bother to knock, simply barges in, only to see that the boy sits on the bed he used to sit on, in the exact same position as him. And he knows it's not just the blood loss that makes the fucker look so drowsy and smug.

The fury is pierced with an ice-tinged sword as he sees her gentle touch – she's tending to the wounds of an ungrateful kid with the same compassion she gives to all her patients, and the first thing on his mind is that she would make a good mother.

"What're you doing here?"

His voice is soaked in ash, but the boy only looks up from the bed with pure, trouble-seeking gall.

"What are you doing here…? Sir."

She's looking at him too. She's pleading with those eyes. Silently, desperately.

"You can't come here, lieutenant. Not unless you're injured."

Her request only now makes sense as he sees how the boy looks him up and down and sees there's not a scratch on him. There's no reason for him to be here other than to relieve the pain in his loins.

"Well… Have fun," the rookie jumps from the table, and the rage threatens to pull him underwater like a tide. He never needed anything but his voice to stop a man in his tracks. Not size, not rank, not even his reputation, just voice.

"My office. Five minutes."

The boy dares to give him another foul look.

"Is that all you need? Just five minutes?"

He even detects admiration in that stare – like he's some stallion, a prized old stud who receives fine mares to rut. Like the celestial woman standing behind this… boy is just some slag thrown to him like they threw to gladiators of old. His luxury whore.

The rookie finally catches the impending wrath that must swell and roil like sea inside the sockets of the skull.

Yes, boy.

Death is coming.

"Sir," the boy swallows with an arduous blob, then walks out of the goddess's domain, finally with some humility upon those shoulders.

The torture has already begun, and it shoots him full of sweet adrenaline. He tries to mask the rising war from her, but she sees enough just before he leaves her as well. Her words follow him but cannot penetrate the cloak of fury that shrouds him as he goes to prepare for carnage.

"Simon. I just stitched him together..."

…..…..…..

He doesn't solve the problem with a gun or a cock this time.

He uses his fists and a knife.

It should disgust him; how much he enjoys it. It's one of those rare occasions when he almost loses himself in the riptide of blood. The things he imagines are far worse than what he finally allows himself to do. When the boy has a split lip and half his face swollen so bad he can't even see from the bruise, when the wetness dampens the crotch area and threatens to stain the carpet, he lets him go.

"Get out."

He's a different man when he rises from beside that broken boy; from next to the knife he plunged to the floor an inch away from his face to make his intentions clear. The boy is stripped of all arrogance and probably regrets the day he got the splendid idea to insult a woman.

He doesn't have to get his hands deep into paperwork to have the rookie transferred; the boy does it for him. He leaves the base quietly as a shadow and with a face that looks like it has been forced through a waffle maker.

After that, everyone salutes him feet away.

His orders are obeyed without question, without a second's delay on missions. He has never pursued to be loved, but neither has he worked on making people fear him. Now he's not only a source of mystery and intrigue but also fear and wonder.

Soap isn't scared quite as shitless as the rest of them, but neither is he as friendly as he used to be. Price says nothing but he gets a few looks that tell him he has gone too far.

"You shouldn't have," she whispers when they're alone, stopping him in the quiet hallway. She's the only one who doesn't have fear and avoidance in her stare. If anything, the adoration in her eyes has deepened.

He has avoided her strictly, this time obeying her request not to go to her unless he has business there. He doesn't defend himself; he doesn't have the luxury to decide what should or shouldn't be done. He's not a saint nor a judge. He is territorial, though.

"You must be the craziest man I've ever met."

She talks to his shadow as he's standing only a few feet away, unable to touch her.

"Good."

"...and the most incredible."

His sharp intake of air hisses between them as the artificial light casts shadows in electric blue. She tries to thank him for bashing a face in, all her noble Hippocratic Oaths forgotten.

She takes a step – just one, to make it perfectly clear she wants to touch him too.

"You're a brute, Simon."

The woman's eyes are a deep sea of gratitude. He wonders if she's equally as wet between those legs. Her voice says it all: she likes brutes.

The worship in her stare makes him understand why wars have been waged – this is the reason why crusaders sloshed through rivers of crimson blood, why whole civilizations were destroyed. This is why swords are forged and guns are fired. He draws another breath to swear his allegiance, an oath bound in blood.

"No one's gonna call you a–"

She crosses the final breadth of air between them and lifts his mask.

…..…..…..

The waves crash on the shore like clockwork. To him, it's the sound of limbo.

The sea used to pull him in like a seductive pit, especially at night, during the sleepless shifts when he walked to the beach with nothing but the ghosts of all the people he had lost to keep him company. Watching all the futures and should have been's slowly drowning in the sea.

Now he’s here with a living being, and the cold, dead sea has turned into blooming fireworks of crimson and coral. The amnesia has turned into bliss; all the treasures lost in the depths suddenly wash up on the shore like a sunken hoard.

She takes her shoes off the minute they reach the shore, then descends the sands with laughter. She could be from a movie or a magazine, gliding through bleached gold with sunbeams in her hair, sandals dangling from the crook of her fingers, heathers kissing her feet as she dives down the path. Her smile eclipses even the setting sun, and for the first time ever, he thinks it might've been a stupid idea to enlist.

If there’s an opposite to ice and inertia, it's this.

It's her.

"You lied to me," she turns around but doesn't stop walking. "You have been to the beach."

She tilts her head as if reprimanding him, but he knows she's just laughing at his expense. She laughs at his name… She laughs at his broodings, she laughs at his shadows and his hubris.

"Does anyone else know about this place?"

"No."

There's no soul out here but theirs; even the seagulls have withdrawn to rest. She stops to admire the sun, features turning soft as she takes in her counterpart. Apparently, she likes his humble tribute, the scarcity he has to offer. Some hollow bones, his opinion of a beach. Emptiness… A day coming to an end.

"I have no words for this."

"It's just a beach," he offers, and swallows when she turns. When the fuck has he ever felt embarrassed? His mask is gone, so she can see him swallow again as she approaches. It's the strangest thing how she can still cause his heart to hammer in his chest. He's used to stepping into a hail of bullets, driving a truck through a wall, waiting for that last unaware step to lunge forth and slit a man's throat. The organ never wailed then.

Her eyes take in his every flaw and scar, the rotten work on his skin before she wraps her hands around his neck.

"No. No it's not. This is paradise."

She has to rise on her toes to kiss him, and he's glad he got rid of the mask. There's nothing between him and the taste of summer anymore – she reminds him of some bright tropical drink, something pure and sweet and innocent, pure fucking fun, something he has come to understand and define only through movies and tv.

And he knows now why he always comes back to her. It's because he was injured. Badly, severely, life-threateningly injured – no, he was already deceased.

She has introduced him back to the world: the sun, the birdsong, the simple, good life. How it feels like to have curtains, or bake just because it's Thursday, or walk barefoot on the beach in order to feel the burning sand on your skin.

What kind of a medic has the power to resurrect the dead?

"Simon," she shivers into his mouth. "I'm sorry. I didn't want people to think that… That we're just…"

"Pet. I know."

"They said you didn't trouble yourself with relationships."

Years of instinct and training make his spine tingle. He's holding another future in his arms and hopes it's not possible for a sea to swallow a sun.

"They?"

"Well, John. Captain."

Her lashes hide what's going through her mind, but he can tell she's feeling shy from the way she shifts in his embrace.

"I asked about you. In spring. If there's someone… waiting for you."

He wrestles down a bitter laugh. The only lover ever waiting for him was nothingness in that chair; the only wife he came home to was shades, shadows, and dust.

But he's starting to understand what she's trying to say. How, without even thinking about it, he just made the strongest possible declaration of not being here just for sex. He couldn't have sent a louder message with that boy.

Because not only Jonathan Price know that she's his. Soap knows too. Gaz knows too. Everyone working in Task Force 141 knows, even the fucking scrubbers and accountants know what's going on. Everyone knows that Ghost is real, and alive, and troubles himself with a relationship.

"I dreamed of you, you know." Her lashes flutter open, and he's met with the perfect example of total surrender. She's more than happy with the outcome, and why the hell shouldn't she be? Actions speak louder than words. He of all people should know that.

"Love–"

"Do you remember the day I found out you were a smoker?"

"...Sure."

She laughs, taking him back to the odd meeting in the yard when she was prying her suffocating latex gloves off, and he was trying to find some solace in a cigarette because he couldn't have her.

"I was so angry at you. Playing with death at every turn..."

"Yeah. Not the perfect man."

"But you were. You are."

"Pet. If someone's perfect, it's you."

"No… I'm a hypocrite. I wanted you to just–just take me against the wall. After your stupid smoke."

He always wondered if she was suffocating too. In her gloves, in her beauty, in her sterile, medical, professional chasteness.

But he had no fucking clue that she–

"Or during, I don't care…"

Even the thought of her wanting him to tear apart her facades shatters the last sane thought in his head. He has tried to be civil, tried to suffocate the longing, but apparently, he doesn't have to. The image of burying himself inside her cunt while taking a drag from the thing she despises even more than his name or his mask or his guns is too fucking much. The fact that she views a dog like him as a perfect man makes his cock answer her call like a good, stout soldier.

"Is that so?"

She stops breathing for a moment as he takes a drag from her now. She's raw whiskey straight to an empty stomach, the way his mind goes blank from sliding his mouth over the column of her throat. She tastes of sea there, and it's not pulling him in; it's pulling him under. The open-mouthed kisses make her jolt, he even draws out a moan or two; they swell between his legs.

"You like that…?"

She answers to him with a soft whine. A soft nib of her ear, and her hips reply with a roll. The woman tries to latch onto him by gripping his shirt, threatening to do permanent damage to the fabric.

"No walls here, pet. Gotta take you on the sand," he gruffs in her ear, cock hard and ready from her tight little breaths. He could bet half his money that she's wetter than November down there. He could drag his cockhead across her cunt and the sound would be divine.

"Simon–"

"I'll light a cig first."

"Stop teasing," she laughs, voice thick with hunger.

"...Roger that."

His hand is on his belt before he knows it. It's pathetic how much patience he has if he needs to crouch in a downpour and wait for a kill, but at the sight and smell and taste of her, he can't stop himself from wrenching his belt and pants open like a starved dog. It's a rush born of fear - that any time could be the last time.

She seems to shiver from his stare only when she lays herself upon the warm sand, naked as can be. She's like a vision on that beach: leaning on her elbows, thighs slowly parting, revealing the glistening sex between her legs. And she's fucking dripping, like an overripe peach. He could've safely bet all his money on her.

"How do you want me?"

Fucking fuck…

He's walking in a dream: the most beautiful woman in the world is lying naked before his feet, bathing in gold, asking how he would prefer to take her. He doesn't even bother to get out of his clothes; he merely tugs his pants down and crawls between her legs, relishing the tight gasp he gets from being so crude.

Her eyes grow wide at the sight of him there, so close to her core, cock hanging heavy just an inch away from that tight cunt. She tries so hard to look composed while lying under his shadow, to not make it obvious that she wants that ugly thing inside. And it does feel like sin not to spread those legs and plough right in, especially when his fingers meet her silk and find that she's already throbbing.

"Want you just like this, pet," he rasps while dragging the pad of his thumb around her clit. Her back arches on the sand, forcing his fingers deeper into the dripping fruit.

It's different, her wetness; not thick and halfway there, but flowing, leaking, soaking good. The pussy is so glazed that he slips at the first attempt to slide a finger in. Her walls grip him the second he's seated deep, making it known how much she appreciates it that he's not here just for sex.

"Someone's greedy," he's breathing rough, and she whines – he only gets to two fingers before she demands him to fuck her already.

"Want your–I need your cock…"

She's begging, poor thing, almost crying on the sand, and he has no fucking choice but to remove his fingers and grab his cock instead.

"Have to go slow, love."

"Riley–for god's sake, now."

"F' fuck's sake…" He stumbles forward, all but gracefully, forces the tip on her soaked cunt as delicately as he can before pushing right in. She cries from the spread, fingers curling in the sand: a futile attempt to take him in without fainting.

"Tried to warn ya–"

"Don't you dare stop," she gasps, eyes full of love. As always, her wish is his command, and the tightness makes it an endless journey to bliss. The basest parts of him think about dying – having a heart attack on the same beach he almost drowned in, about ceasing to exist just for the sake of knowing that nothing is as good as this.

He's deep as can fucking be, and it's still not enough – it's never enough. He collects her in his arms with a frustrated grunt, cock giving a tight pull only when she's finally safe and snug in his embrace. It's a tight cuddle that leaves them both breathless.

"Hold me tighter..."

It's a soft order, but he can't get any closer: chest plastered on her skin and balls pressed against her ass, the sand grinding against her back as he makes love to her. She’s not made of twigs, but he’s far bigger than her, already threatening to crush her with his weight.

"Tighter…" she begs on his lips, tries to pull him closer with her whole being.

"Pet, I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't," she sings, completely shieldless. Something warns him of danger, a reset far worse than drowning or being buried alive or shooting himself in a lonely apartment. He tries to calm her down with a kiss: he knows she loves kisses - but there are tears in her eyes, and his heart is hammering, hammering…

"Simon, do you love me…?"

She asks that question right on his lips, and the first thing in his dog mind is that it's a stupid thing to ask when he's balls deep inside her and still trying to get closer.

"Yeah," he almost chokes on it, knowing it could be their wedding day and he would still choke on it because it doesn't taste like salt or metal or grave.

"I love you," she whispers. "Do you understand?"

No. No…

I fuckin' don't–

"And I'll always be here for you."

To his shock, there’s no sea water in his lungs, no dirt in his mouth. He’s not choking on anything, he's not in fact dying at all: he’s floating, somewhere between the sun and the sand and the sea. There's no more rush, no jaws of death snapping at his heels. He doesn't even long for heaven anymore. Not when there's a paradise on earth.

"Love, I need you to–need you to focus," he tries to stutter nonsense while she's pledging herself to him. Of course she only laughs at him: it hits him with the sweetest warmth.

"You're so silly…"

"Yeah? I know."

He's laughing too. It's just a few notes that get taken away by the sound of waves. It's just a breath from deep within, and still… Her gaze drops to his mouth, a flutter blinks back more tears.

"I love it when you laugh..." Her eyes shine brighter than the sun, riding the spine of the sea as one perfect tear rolls down her cheek. "Love it…"

The sun sets in tangerine, his new favourite colour. There's a whole bloom out there in the sky when she comes, fast and bright in his embrace. He comes right after, just from trying to stay inside her warmth, deep inside her, around her, and she says it, again and again and again… Until he breathes.

….….….

"Remember when I said I could've managed? Without you," she asks when they lie on the sand, skin on skin, watching the sun set beneath the onyx sea. The waves rise and break, but around them, the air is still. He's still inside her as she pulls his hand over her heart, entwining their fingers together: it's the softest little arrest, but her squeeze doesn't lack strength.

"I lied too."

"I know."

She chuckles softly. "Is there something you don't know?"

"...Yeah. Why you're here out of all places."

She turns her head from the sunset into the falling darkness of him, and he wonders if that's why she's here... To be with his night. She said that people always get the dark wrong: that it's not supposed to be scary at all. That the purpose of darkness is safety, security, that there are tales where the day chases the night, and the night chases the day. She said it's because they're in love with each other.

"You really don't know…?"

"You were smiling before we met and now you're crying all the time."

She looks up at him with trust and devotion, his daylight, his sun. There's none in the sky anymore, but it doesn't matter. It lives in her eyes.

"People cry from happiness too, Simon."

#ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley #ghost x female reader #ghost smut #simon riley smut #simon riley fluff #cod fanfic

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witch-hazels-musings · 3 months

Text

a gesture

Warning -> fluff | reader gets a blister on their foot, genshin men notice and provide respite from the discomfort | pre-relationship (it's silly, and dumb, but let me have this)

Includes: Diluc, Xiao

Character X GN Reader (adventure guild reader*) | Anthology

A-N: I was planning on writing for a few more characters, but I'm a bit slow in my genshin right now, plus I *should* be resting ... 人(_ _*)

Diluc

"Be right there!" you shouted over the calls echoing in the hall. Your hand dropped from your lips and back to the stack of rolled papers in your arms. The guild was busier than normal. Perhaps it was because of the snow fading from the streets, or the warmer wind blowing in from the south. Being surrounded by the lake meant damper and colder winters, but you didn't mind.

You loved the snow.

What you didn't love was returning to restrictive shoes now that the cobblestone streets were less barred by ice. You missed your warm fur-lined boots.

"Hey, got a few more requests for you to review," you told one of the auditors as you leaned onto the polished wood counter that separated you from the workers just inside. You tapped the toe of your shoe on the floor to force room between your heel and the leather rubbing against it. "Oh, and this came from Alfry." You reached into your pocket and handed a folded, sealed letter to the attendant.

After waiting for several minutes, and shifting from one foot to the other - relief waning and waxing - you made your way outside toward the Kiosk near the front of Mondstadt. It took a while, you were particularly slow on the stone steps of the city since each one put added pressure on your heels. You could feel a blister on the horizon.

Katheryne greeted you with a wave when she saw you.

She was, without a doubt, one of your favorite people. She didn't lock you in long, uninteresting conversations about her life outside of work. She just thanked you for the updated commissions and let you be on your way. You wished everyone was like Katheryne.

It wasn't that you hated talking to people. You just preferred to get your work done and found it distracting to get lost in small talk about the weather. But you learned to be pleasant and control your drifting eyes that willed your soul to be anywhere but there.

When you approached the Guild, someone called you over and explained you were being requested in one of the assessment rooms. A room used by evaluators and requestors to work out the details of a commission. You weren't an evaluator - so who could possibly be asking for you?

You imagined several scenarios except for this one. The one where Diluc Ragnvindr was standing on the other side of the door, waiting for - you. In fact, you were so unprepared, taken aback, that you rechecked the room number.

It was odd to see Diluc outside of his normal patterns. The man was routine. Days spent at Angels Share, days absent from the city while he tended to his estate at the Dawn Winery. You had several run-ins with him over the years since his reappearance, but they were always in public spaces. Fleeting, nervous moments when you'd gather the courage to ask him for a drink while he worked or make polite - short - conversation when he dropped it off. You didn't even know he knew you worked at the Adventurers Guild.

"Sir Ragnvindr, is something - how can I help you?" you asked as you stepped inside the room and let the heavy door close behind you.

"Have I pulled you away from your work?"

"Yes," you said but caught yourself, "No. I mean, yes, but it's alright. Are you alright?" The thought crossed your mind that perhaps something had happened. An issue at the Winery or the tavern, maybe he thought you were the best person to help him? Not sure why. But you did know a lot of adventurers.

"I am well. Please," he gestured to the table and chairs beside him. Crossing the room, you noticed a tall, decorative bag on the corner of the table. The top was knotted by someone with experience. Diluc placed his hand on the table, and you stopped a few feet from him. He looked -- odd. Out of sorts even.

"Did you need something from the Guild? I'm not sure if anyone told you, but I'm not an evaluator, but I can find someone who can assist you in building a commission report."

"I do not require one. I am ..." he clenched his jaw and fumbled. "Please, sit," he repeated, gesturing to the chair slightly pulled out beside you.

Confused, you took a seat.

You considered yourself a rational person, a relatively calm person. One that could keep their head in most situations, but when the man you could hardly look at long enough to breathe knelt in front of you, lifted your calf, and began to untie your shoe, you yelped so loud it startled him.

"Dilu- I mean, Sir Ragnvindr, what are you doing!?" You reached for his arm but pulled back at the last second. A war raged inside your mind - one billowing urge shouted to push him away so you could steady your fluttering heart, and the other shrieked, terrified of making contact out of fear he'd know the truths of your unsettled heart.

"These are uncomfortable, are they not?"

You glanced at your shoes. "I mean - yes, but you don't have to worry about it. Please," you begged, fingers hovering above his hand, body fighting the will to rip free from his grasp. "Sir Ragn-"

"Diluc," he interrupted and looked up at you, "I much prefer when you call me Diluc."

You didn't know how to respond, didn't know how to react, so you just sat frozen while he carefully removed your shoes and tended to the wounds they had caused.

His touch was warm. Violently warm. It was like heat seeped from every bit of him. Tendrils of flames licked across his brow, his cheeks, his jawline. You were so close you could smell the earth and trapped dust from the melting snow trapped in his clothes.

He placed the bandage across your foot and carefully wrapped it until it was secure.

"T-Thank you," you mumbled. You were stuck between being embarrassed by what was happening and being smitten by it. You were in a haze. Your eyes could barely focus on his hands as he worked, barely noticing the stick he placed beside your right foot. The medicine he applied had soothed the soft burn of the blister.

He stood and a wave of his scent washed over you. It took a moment for you to catch your breath, but when you did, you reached for your shoes that he had placed on the table.

"I'll repay you for the treatment."

"No need," he replied as he tugged at the decorative cloth bag. His back blocked you from what was inside. You worked on stretching the laces of your shoes so you could slip them over your foot. Just as you were about to place them on, Diluc returned and stalled your actions, taking the shoe from you and returning it to the table. He easily held your calf and slipped on another shoe. A flat, wide one that wouldn't rub against you the way your own had. "How does it fit?" he asked as he carefully slid it over your heel and adjusted it until it was on completely.

The shoe was elegant, beautiful. Something you would only dream of buying - most of your clothes were from sales and take-bins of neighbors doing their yearly cleaning. These were --

"Wait - did you buy these?"

"I did. But I was unaware of your size. If these are not satisfactory, I purchased several others which may be more suitable for you," he explained and that's when you noticed the stack of boxes now exposed from the cloth bag. Two boxes were placed to the side, another still in it, while the last was open, the lid placed at an angle as if forgotten.

"You bought," you paused, disbelief pulling in your brows, "multiple pairs?"

"It seemed better to purchase multiple than to guess. Though I could have inquired from you directly," he trailed off as if the thought had only just crossed his mind.

But only one crossed yours, "Why?"

He looked up at you, still kneeling and preparing your other foot to accept your new shoes' partner, "I notice you. You would be unable to work in this state."

"Noticed me?"

"Yes. Besides, I couldn't rightfully ... never mind."

"What," you blurted, hanging on his every word.

He glanced at you and then looked back at your feet. There was a pause, a heavy pause in the air. "To see you in discomfort. It - It did not sit well with me."

You sat in silence as he ensured the shoes fit, as he laced them, and made sure they wouldn't irritate the bandage. You held your tongue and swallowed the pounding pressure in your chest when he lifted you from the chair and made sure you could stand before he let go.

You breathed him in while he stood before you.

"I will be at Angel's Share tonight. I can set aside some time for you, should you find yourself-"

"Okay," you blurted again, followed it up with an embarrassed sorry. It made him laugh, and you snatch the lurching urge to jump on him.

"Until then," he hummed, a smile tugging at his lips. "Do not rush in the meantime. I have already given my recommendations to the guild to allow you rest, though I do not imagine you'll heed it."

Diluc packed up the bag and bid you farewell, lingering his voice on the sound of your name, his eyes on your warm face. He slipped out of the room and left you in disbelief in a pair of beautiful crimson shoes.

Xiao

Why did you decide to wear these shoes?

You thought at least twenty times as you trudged down the path. As you hiked over the mountain passes that had seen better days in their time. A giant bolder blocked you a few paces back and you were still brushing yourself off from the unprepared scramble; you found a tear in your clothes and groaned.

For an adventurer, you got off pretty lucky. Only taking the low-priced requests. Ones left for running between towns, helping clear out someone's back room, or helping with a shipment. You weren't interested in the daring adventures that some in the guild would take, snatch up before you even had a chance to read the whole thing. And you certainly weren't about to follow in the footsteps of that strange traveler who - for a while - was accused of killing the Liyue Archon. (You still had your suspicions).

Nope, you were complacent, content with the simple jobs that helped you keep the lights on and splurge on the things that caught your eye. One of which was currently on your feet and digging into the skin uncomfortably. You hopped on one foot and shoved your finger inside the edge of the shoe in the hopes of stretching out the tight leather.

The top of the path crept over the horizon and you picked up the pace to reach it. You adored cresting the hill and seeing the harbor stretch across the bay, how the tall mountainside loomed above her - a watchful guardian, a shield and protector. You sighed and adjusted the pack on your back. The road into the harbor wasn't long, but it was steep, and you prepared yourself for a rough descent with your aching feet.

Every step slowed you down. Each one more uncomfortable than the last. You thought about taking off your shoes but didn't want to catch the disapproving glares that came from Liyue's citizens. So, you pushed forward.

A plume of green and black smoke enveloped you. You would have shouted but you were used to the sensation and how it obscured your view. Months ago you stumbled upon the smoke's owner in a field. He seemed injured so you went to check on him only to learn he was fine, and rather unappreciative of your concern - actually, he was irritatingly annoyed that you had distracted him from his lay-about.

"Hello, little Xia--woah!" Instead of appearing near you like he had before, you were suddenly floating in the green smoke. It whipped through your hair, tugged at your loose clothes, and bit at your skin. You felt like you were falling, and then you were - into the arms of the Adeptus who normally kept his respectful distance from you.

When your eyes adjusted to the return of light, you twisted to look at him, one arm draped over his shoulders as if he had placed it there.

"What are you-?" The words caught in your throat. Confusion, surprise, and bashful bewilderment tickled your cheeks and stole your ability to speak. Your face was inches from him. Closer than it ever had been before.

"You're injured," he spoke softly, matter-of-factly, his eyes drifting to your feet. You could already see the broken skin around your heel.

"It's nothing. Just my shoes," you explained as you stared at your own feet as if that explanation meant anything to him.

"Hold on," he said as he held you to him and the two of you disappeared into a puff of ethereal phthalo.

Xiao placed you on the small stool you had left out on the balcony the night before. He was careful to not let you crash into it. His strength - despite his size - was easy to sense as he eased you onto it and waited for you to settle.

"Thanks," you hummed, stealing a peek at his eyes. Eyes the shade of ginkgo trees in fall, eyes that held eons of history and centuries of sadness. Xiao didn't speak much, but his searching and timid eyes quenched your thirst for his voice.

He lifted your leg and you covered your mouth to avoid making a noise. Before you could ask him a question, he withdrew into his haze and was gone. You sat motionless for only a few seconds, and contemplated entering your house as you, in a daze, took off your shoes but when you rose to leave, Xiao reappeared holding a small container.

"For your injury. It's important to - take care of yourself," he mumbled the last part of his sentence as he held the container out to you. Averting eyes, open fingers unmoving, waiting for you to take it.

Your fingertips brushed his skin. "Did you get this for me?" He crossed his arms and didn't answer but his actions still made your chest warm and lips pull into a giddy smile.

"Don't dally," he scolded and threw you a sharp stare, "Or you'll be left with a scar."

"Oh right." You nodded and uncapped the container. The salve held a potent medicinal scent. "You don't have to stay," you added, a little sad at the thought of him leaving but recognizing that he didn't enjoy the sights and sounds of the city. His avoidance one of the many secrets locked in the amber of his soul.

"I'll wait."

You opened your mouth to protest but he turned his back to you, crossed his arms. Watched, observed. Protective.

"Thank you, Xiao," you whispered and chuckled at the grunt that floated toward you from the Adeptus statue standing near the corner of your balcony.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact musings #genshin impact fiction #genshin x diluc #genshin impact diluc #genshin x gn reader #diluc x gn reader #diluc x reader #xiao x reader #xiao x gn reader #genshin impact xiao #genshin xiao #genshin diluc #genshin sfw #genshin fluff

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palms-upturned · 1 year

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I’m not gonna jump in ppl’s notes over this bc lord knows I do not want to have a debate about it but seeing someone say “I have qualms about people calling Jean ableist for trying to fire Harry and in the same breath saying Harry is unfit for cop work” is really getting to me. I am practically on my knees begging people to actually engage with what disco elysium has to say about disability and addiction and ableism and policing and social murder because it’s not even subtextual, it’s as blatant and hand holding as it could possibly be. The 41st is an awful environment for Harry not bc him being disabled makes him incapable of doing his job, it’s bc the job is fucking hostile to his existence. Like, no one is “fit” to be a cop because they shouldn’t exist, firstly, and even Harry himself will say as much in the Ruby bad ending. But talking about Harry’s case specifically, we know that this job is part of what landed him where he is to begin with.

From the start of day 2:

ELECTROCHEMISTRY — You mean why are you so tired? Too tired and *down* to even think? It *is* worrying, isn't it. You can't be a detective like this -- detectives need to be able to think.

YOU — Why is this happening?

ELECTROCHEMISTRY — It's just that your heart has finally pumped all the *speed* out of your system, buster. Time to get some more.

YOU — Wait. What *is*... speed?

ELECTROCHEMISTRY — Speed is a potent central nervous system stimulant. It kept you propped up all day yesterday despite your debilitating hangover. How else did you think you even got up from this floor?

VOLITION — You got up from this floor because of a holy vow you made sixteen years ago. With *me*. To wake up exactly 07:30 every morning until the day you die.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY — Don't be silly. There was no vow. You were high on speed. That was the only reason you got up. You can't *detect* without it, it's that simple.

YOU — No. I can take this. I am not going to go looking for speed.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY — Are you sure? Ready to live as this pathetic shell of yourself for days? Basically a week? Let's be honest -- two weeks, maybe three? You won't make it. Half the town will be dead by then. You will be fired.

YOU — That's a lie. I can do this without the speed. Half the town won't be dead... (Opt out.)

ELECTROCHEMISTRY — Suit yourself, slow, sad shell-man. See how you do without your spark.

And from this talk with Kim in Klaasje’s room:

KIM KITSURAGI — "Amphetamine -- does it make you a better detective?"

SUGGESTION — Be honest. He's not grilling you, he just wants to know. Ask if he's ever wanted to take it too.

YOU — "Honestly, it makes me the detective I am. Have you thought of taking it too?"

KIM KITSURAGI — "Maybe I should?" He lets out a little pensive hum, rubbing his shoulder...

DRAMA — It's not insincere. He's actually giving it thought.

KIM KITSURAGI — "Doesn't the... pupils and the gurning jaw, the sweating... doesn't it become tiring after a while?"

YOU — "I understand it's unbecoming but if I don't perform this job well I am nothing. It's the price I pay."

Harry knows that the cost of getting sober would be that the precinct would let him go. They’re not going to have the patience to deal with him slowing down from the combo of withdrawal and no speed to “keep him propped up.” Not when the reason that he’s stayed on the force this long and risen in the ranks is most likely because he manages such a massive caseload, as we find out from Kim:

YOU — "Is two cases a week a good case load, lieutenant?"

KIM KITSURAGI — "Huh?" He raises his nose from his notes. "Two *complex* cases to undertake is a lot, yes. You *really* have to push yourself. I would not suggest it. Lest you start making mistakes."

YOU — "Two cases a week appears to have been my load, lieutenant. I'm not sure I completed them though."

KIM KITSURAGI — "Two?" He raises both eyebrows. "That's a lot. I didn't mean to say you're making mistakes, by the way. That was presumptuous of me."

And later:

KIM KITSURAGI — "This next row -- the one that wraps all the way around -- is your number of closed cases. *Closed* is good. It means finished. You've got, let's see..."

KIM KITSURAGI — "Wow, more than 200!"

YOU — "Is that a lot?"

KIM KITSURAGI — "It's *quite* a lot, even for someone who's been on the force for nearly two decades. Usually clearing more than 10 cases a year puts you in the 90th percentile of *all* RCM officers..."

Despite the trouble Harry makes, he’s considered an asset so long as he closes cases. To the point where he wasn’t punished for drunkenly beating Burke unconscious and then injuring his knee so badly that he can’t walk anymore just because this allowed them to close the “unsolvable case” of Leslie and Burke. 41 and the RCM as an institution don’t care about Harry’s or anyone else’s wellbeing, they care about whether the pros of having him around outweigh the cons.

From the lazareth call with Gottlieb:

YOU — "Isn't there *anything* you can do for me?"

NIX GOTTLIEB — "What, you want me to do blood work for you again, tell you just how bad things really are *across the board*? You want another rundown of everything collapsing inside your body?"

YOU — "Yes. I want the truth!"

NIX GOTTLIEB — "You want the real, honest-to-god truth? Stop drinking, eat magnesium and vitamin D. Our station is not a retirement home. We don't have the funds to deal with *rock stars* past their prime."

RHETORIC — So it's political! You're being *neglected* because of political reasons...

NIX GOTTLIEB — "And no, I *don't* want to hear a *political commentary* on the topic. In fact -- I've got work to do."

If I were to quote every time Gottlieb was notably uncaring or said something blasé about how you probably didn’t have long to live, I’d have to quote pretty much every word of that dialogue. That’s the whole joke with Gottlieb. That’s just how it is dealing with doctors when you’re in Harry’s position.

From talking to Kim about Uuno:

KIM KITSURAGI — "We could take him to Remedie or Saint Batiste, but he doesn't have money for medical services. The Almshouse would turn him down..."

KIM KITSURAGI — "They don't do charity for people who're trying to kill themselves. Besides, he'll be dead in a few..." The lieutenant stops, listening to him.

RHETORIC — ... years? Months? Weeks?

“They don’t do charity work for people who’re trying to kill themselves” really sums up the absurdity of Harry’s situation and institutional responses to it. Harry isn’t seen as the kind of person in crisis who deserves intervention. He’s treated as a lost cause who deserves to suffer the consequences of his self harm, even though the unending crisis and the lack of response to it is what drives him to harm himself and hope that he “gets worse.” If he weren’t a cop, it’s unlikely that Kim would care about him any more than he cares about Uuno and Cuno’s situation. Harry’s job is killing him, but it’s also the only thing that gives him access to anything resembling a community or support network (at least at the start of the game). Again, that’s just the way it goes when you’re disabled.

From the second tribunal:

TRANT HEIDELSTAM — "Well -- here is my theory: What if this is an absolutely normal reaction to the world we're living in? What if this is *not* a significant anomaly at all, something to be explained, approached as a defect? Look at the sensory input here..." He gestures toward the scenery.

TRANT HEIDELSTAM — "Look at the ruins, the neon, listen to the radio, the multitudes. The people. Live here for forty years... As a police detective, he's like a magnetic reader on the world-tape -- to borrow a known metaphor. Harry's been pushed *flat against it*. Total input."

TRANT HEIDELSTAM — "Hard-wired to the free market..." He nods confidently. "He just needed for it to end."

JEAN VICQUEMARE — "Okay, Trant, thank you. That's... absolutely meaningless. I'm glad we brought you. Will he or will he not be able to work in the Major Crimes Unit? Is he a cretin now? I want to know *that*."

TRANT HEIDELSTAM — "He is *not* a cretin. And he *is* able to do work -- if not in his previous leadership role, then as a line detective."

YOU — "Line detective is good for now."

JEAN VICQUEMARE — "For *now*?" He looks at you, then at Trant. "I misphrased my question. It should have been: Is he able to put his clothes on, and use the potty, or do we need to get him on a disability pension?"

Or, alternatively:

YOU — "He's wrong. I'm too far gone for work."

JEAN VICQUEMARE — "Agreed, Harry." He nods. "Just don't expect us to get you a disability pension. Cops who actually gave a shit are waiting in line. You're not gonna hog their seat."

Trant, who, notably, is technically a civilian consultant rather than a cop, (edit: and maybe even more notably, as someone pointed out in the tags, has had experience with addiction, too) suggests to Jean that Harry’s breakdown is a basically inevitable result of his circumstances and the systems that created them, and Jean’s response is that he doesn’t care and all that he wants to know is whether or not Harry can work or if he’s going to be “hogging” resources from other people who are more deserving of help because they “actually gave a shit.” He’s a mouthpiece here for the institutions that he represents and his ableism is blatant and heinous to drive the point home. He denies that Harry’s case is as serious as it is and accuses Harry of faking it, despite the fact that it’s happened (at least) twice before, and very recently:

JEAN VICQUEMARE — "I believe you *drank*. People do that -- you especially. What they don't do is forget their *whole life* because of drinking."

JUDIT MINOT — "But, Detective Vicquemare," she interjects. "He *has* blanked out before."

YOU — "I have?"

JUDIT MINOT — "Yes, a couple of times. After some of the more... serious benders." She pauses, remembering. "One was after the Two Drunks case, the other when we looked into that mural."

REACTION SPEED — The two cases... in your ledger. The Unsolvable Case and the Next World Mural. Those were recent.

And despite the fact that even Gottlieb doesn’t seem shocked about it:

YOU — "I've lost my memory. All of it."

NIX GOTTLIEB — "With all the damage you've been dealing yourself with drugs and alcohol, I'm not surprised."

AUTHORITY — There is no surprise in his voice. Only careless superiority.

DRAMA — It's hard to say if he doesn't believe you -- or doesn't care.

(Considering that Gottlieb’s PSY stat is so high (he’s even eating one of the PSY boosting candies during the call), along with his uncaring responses to all your other problems, it’s more likely the latter.)

Jean also won’t believe that you’re sober even if you haven’t touched so much as a cigarette for your entire playthrough, and even when Judit points out that he’s wrong, he’ll double down and say that it doesn’t matter because you’re going to relapse:

JEAN VICQUEMARE — "Even the insect -- I don't care. But you're an *alcoholic*. And you've been drinking -- again. I won't let my life unravel because of this."

JUDIT MINOT — "Jean -- I think he hasn't. I can see it on his face..."

ENDURANCE — The bloating *has* gone down since you woke up that morning...

JEAN VICQUEMARE — "Okay, so he's stayed clear for what? A week?" He sighs.

TRANT HEIDELSTAM — "It's tough. One of the toughest addictions to overcome. Comparable *only* to heavy synthetic opiates. Even morphine is easier to kick than alcohol -- statistically. The odds are against him. Especially at his age."

JEAN VICQUEMARE — He nods. "He's too old. He's been like this for too long. I've seen him try many times. It's a farce by now."

SUGGESTION — They're leaving. They're all turning away from you.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY — No. You can figure it out. *Replace* it! Replace the alcohol with amphetamine. Or GBL! Fuck it -- morphine! Graffito removal agent! Anything. It'll buy you time. All you need is time.

Electrochemistry brings up yet another facet of Harry’s struggles with substances, which is the idea that some of them may be replacements for alcohol. He doesn’t have time or space to try to quit in any way that is remotely healthy. What he has are substances like speed that keep him from collapsing from the strain of it all so that he can keep showing up to work, and other substances that might (he hopes) help him wean himself off the alcohol.

The game explores all of these different factors of Harry’s struggles with addiction and the circumstances that keep him trapped in them exhaustively (and the fact that Robert Kurvitz apparently was recovering from alcoholism during the development probably contributed a lot to that). The structure and culture of the RCM are hugely responsible for Harry’s situation. He’s mocked and berated for being an alcoholic and told repeatedly to get his shit together without actually providing him with the means to do that. Instead, he’s not only enabled but practically forced to keep using just so that he can show up to work at all and not risk losing the only support network he has (even if it’s the shittiest and most unhelpful network imaginable). As Luiga (iirc) said, Harry’s biggest tragedy is that he’s incapable of quitting the force. Many of the reasons for that are genuinely just due to Harry being a class traitor and an asshole, but it’s also true that even if he did want to quit, there is no safety net to catch him.

And then Harry comes to Martinaise, a town that has been “orphaned” by the RCM and neglected by Revachol at large, left mostly to their own devices. It’s not like policing doesn’t still exist in Martinaise, and things are pretty dire for everyone in the community, but at the very least you can see that it is a community. Isobel houses you for free. In Kim’s absence (and after Gottlieb stitches and ditches you), Cuno and Garte take care of you when you’re shot. Acele responds to your breakdown on the ice by saying it’s okay to cry and that you can talk with her about it when you’re ready. Idiot Doom Spiral and co run to your aid when they see you drive your car into the sea and invite you to come drink with them just to stop you from doing it again. Harry discovers that life, while very painful and bleak at times, isn’t necessarily hopeless for the marginalized. You can still find solidarity and support outside of the system.

Meanwhile, if Harry in the end has no one to vouch for him and hasn’t stayed sober, that system will abandon him, a well-known suicide risk with at least one bullet hole in him and severe amnesia, with the promise of nothing but getting served a station call slip. The point is not whether or not Harry “deserves” to be forgiven or even whether he’s a danger to himself and others (to be clear, he is). The point is that this is a system that doesn’t care whether Harry and people like him live or die. That is why, even in a “good” ending where Harry is welcomed back to the 41st, the work won’t be sustainable. It’s going to kill him because that’s what it’s designed to do. The miracle of Martinaise was the realization that he doesn’t have to die. There are people who will help to keep him on this earth. They’re just not members of the fucking RCM.

It’s not a “gotcha” to say that if Jean (and the RCM, and the institutions of Revachol on the whole) is ableist for wanting Harry fired, then saying that cop work is unsustainable for Harry is also ableist. I won’t even say what I personally think of that logic because I’m trying to keep the tone of this post polite. Jean’s dialogue during the tribunal is meant to parrot every bit of ableist rhetoric that the system is built on and that keeps Harry trapped in this hellish feedback loop. He’s a mouthpiece for the general culture of the RCM, just like Gottlieb is a mouthpiece for the shit that addicts and the disabled have to deal with from the medical system. He thinks Harry should be fired because he’s a drunk and therefor a lost cause. The truth is that Harry needs to quit this job because it shouldn’t exist and because it is actively killing him.

In one of Martin Luiga’s articles about the process of creating the game, he brings up the concept of social murder, which is a term coined by Engels:

When one individual inflicts bodily injury upon another such that death results, we call the deed manslaughter; when the assailant knew in advance that the injury would be fatal, we call his deed murder. But when society places hundreds of proletarians in such a position that they inevitably meet a too early and an unnatural death, one which is quite as much a death by violence as that by the sword or bullet; when it deprives thousands of the necessaries of life, places them under conditions in which they cannot live – forces them, through the strong arm of the law, to remain in such conditions until that death ensues which is the inevitable consequence – knows that these thousands of victims must perish, and yet permits these conditions to remain, its deed is murder just as surely as the deed of the single individual; disguised, malicious murder, murder against which none can defend himself, which does not seem what it is, because no man sees the murderer, because the death of the victim seems a natural one, since the offence is more one of omission than of commission. But murder it remains.

None of this is subtext. And all of it is intended to make players actually spare a thought for what it’s like for people in Harry’s situation in real life. For God’s sake, please engage with it. You have to try and understand what it means to be trapped in a life that is made unlivable and to know that your death will be ungrievable. That’s what this whole game is about.

Edit: I’ve seen some ppl say in the tags something like “yeah, I like to imagine a happy ending for Harry, but…” and listen. I am laying a very gentle hand on your shoulders. The point of this post was never to say that there’s no happy ending for Harry. The point is that the first step toward that ending is conceptualizing a life outside of the RCM. In Martinaise, he got a glimpse of what that might look like. Hell, in the bad ending, you can even say to Jean, “fine then. I’ll just live here.” There’s hope for him and for us. I promise.

#meg talks #disco elysium #i have been seething over this all day. sorry.#i’ll be nice and won’t tag any characters mentioned here

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trulyonlygrapejuice · 7 months

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Needy Puppy

A little one-shot to get back into writing again. I wrote this in about an hour and it's not edited, so don't mind any mistakes. I'm not entirely sure what the story is, it's just a fluffy, silly morning in bed with Harry :]

Warnings: Maybe just puppy/pup as a nickname? Just adding this to be safe haha

Word count: 1011

You blinked lazily, peeking at the rather gorgeous view spread out in front of you, tangled in white cotton sheets. Harry was laid out on his front, his face tucked in the crook of his elbow, arms curled under his pillow, eyelashes still visible where they fluttered gently against his cheekbones. The crease that was so often between his eyebrows was absent and the utter serenity on his face made your heart flutter. Despite the fact he’s been out wandering (or biking) across London most days since the tour ended, you’ve never seen him sleep more. Sleeping in till late morning, a nap in the mid-afternoon… You’ve joked he's turning into an old man, but seeing him being lazy for once is a sight for sore eyes. Sure, you loved seeing him touring and enjoying himself, but it was nice to see him relaxing and lazing about too.

You couldn't help dragging your gaze down from his scruffy and slightly puffy face, studying the broad expanse of his back and smiling slightly at where the white sheets just hid the gentle swell of his bum. You were content to watch the soft rise and fall of Harry’s back as he breathed softly, occasionally snuffling slightly or scrunching up his nose in a way that made your heart soften, a hand drifting to gently ruffle his curls. You slowly dragged your fingers through his hair, careful not to knot the chestnut brown curls, watching his face carefully in hopes of not waking him. He made a soft noise but settled quickly, his body almost melting into the mattress as you scratched gently at his scalp in the way he loved. He almost seemed to purr in his sleep and you suppressed a giggle at how his body shivered when you hit just the right spot. Sometimes you wondered if he was secretly a cat since he adored head scratches so much, he was even napping as much as a cat lately and you once caught him moving across the couch to nap in the sunshine, rather than the equally as comfortable part of the couch that was not near the sunny windows.

Endless time must have passed when a low muffled voice broke the silence. “How long have y’been staring at me? I’m not a piece of meat, y’know.” A pair of bleary, but amused moss green eyes gazed up at you, a lazy grin growing on your face as he leant into your hand, his face slipping out of where it was tucked in his elbow to rest on his forearm, revealing pretty pink lips and endearing scruff. “Not sure. Lost track of time.” Harry’s eyes fell shut again as your hand began to wander, trailing down his neck to trace slow, ticklish circles between his shoulder blades. “I must be very interesting to look at then.” You scoffed. “Are you looking for compliments already, my darling?” A pause. “…no.” You snorted softly, tickling gently at his side just to make him jump, chuckling at the way he whined, trying to wriggle away but getting too tangled in the sheets to move further than rolling on his back. He scowled at you playfully and you cooed teasingly at his pout. “Oh baby, y’know you’re gorgeous.” He huffed, batting your hands away from where they were trying to pinch his cheeks. “Whatever.” You gasped in mock offence, quickly rolling on top of him as he tried to squirm free. The playful teasing ended as he blinked sleepily up at you before pecking your lips gently with a low hum. You smiled tenderly at the gesture, lightly sighing before dropping your head onto his chest with a thump, smirking slightly against his skin when he squawked. “Hey! I was trying to be sweet with you, despite y’pestering me like a needy puppy.” You raised your head to frown down at him, though it didn't seem to work as he sniggered slightly at your affronted expression. “I’m not like a needy puppy.” He gave you a blank look. “Sure, babe, sure.”

He went to poke your nose gently, but you were quick to nip playfully at his fingers, giggling slightly as he sighed. Though you soon fell silent when he huffed, “See? Just like a needy puppy, nipping at people being nice to you.” You pouted at him while he smirked, hands sliding over your sides to lock together at the small of your back, keeping you pressed to his warmth. “You’re mean.” Harry raised an eyebrow. “You started it. Actually…” He trailed off, falling into thought. “I’m not really sure what it is.” You giggled, wriggling slightly to shove your face into the crook of his neck, breathing him and settling against him with a soothed sigh. “I think you were trying to be sweet with me.” Your words sounded muffled and a little slurred against his neck, mostly because you had your face tucked right against him but partially because the warm solidness of him was making you sleepy again. He hummed, a hand shifting to stroke gently at the back of your head, as your eyelids began to flutter. “And then y’decided to be cheeky, eh pup?” The new nickname made you squirm, insides turning to goo as he chuckled lowly. “You liked that one, didn’t you?” You choked a soft ‘no’ against his throat but it was pretty unconvincing and you could practically hear his smirk. “Whatever y’say, pup.” You sighed defeatedly as he laughed at your vexation. “Okay, enough teasing. Go back to sleep, I'm tired after dealing with you bugging me.” You nipped at his throat just to make him squeak, his arm around your waist tightening slightly as you giggled. “You’re just further proving my point.” You scowled. “Shut up.” He pulled you closer. “Go to sleep then.” You sighed, melting into him as he hummed approvingly, rolling you both over to your side, tucking you perfectly against him with a satisfied croon. “Sleep well, sweetheart. Dream of chasing squirrels and big sticks.” Silence. “I hate you.”

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine #harry styles headcanons #harry styles fic #x reader

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wave2tyun · 3 months

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killshot | ☆

pairing: taehyun x fem!reader

genre: spy!au, enemies to lovers, fake dating, slow burn, suggestive, a bit of fluff and angst

summary: your life seemed to have taken a turn for the worse the minute kang taehyun stepped foot into the spy agency you worked at. wanting to take on a challenge to prove yourself worthy of the top position, your plans were turned upside down with his addition to the mission. you didn’t think things could get any worse, until they stated one clear, mandatory condition: the two of you had to pretend you were a couple.

warnings: lots of swearing, alcohol consumption, the reader gets tipsy (twice), mentions of death, guns and bombs (there’s nothing explicit though), the presence of an annoying drunk man | let me know if i missed something!!

word count: 9.7k

a/n: this was just a silly little idea that i got during a car drive asdbfhj whenever i repost fics i always kind of get the urge to say "omg this was one of my favorite fics to write" - i think it's because i end up getting so attached to the little universes that i create and then look back on them fondly; with this one, i really really mean it when i say those words (maybe because it's also longer). when i first posted it i actually felt like i gave birth cause it got SO MUCH LONGER than i anticipated ASBHJDS

☆ = repost from my old blog!!

"no."

"hear me out-"

"i'm not hearing anybody out. i'm doing this alone- just like we intended from the start" you hissed.

"y/n, we went over this already" irene pinched the bridge of her nose, sighing "the enemy has changed their plan of action, so we need to change it too. it's not safe for you to go alone anymore"

"that i can understand. but him-" you pointed an accusatory finger to the man in front of you “why does he need to be involved in this? there have to be other suitable agents for this mission”

“trust me, darling, if i could do this alone, i would” he replied bitterly, rolling his eyes.

“listen you two- these orders came directly from the head office. they want you to work on this, not anybody else- and there’s nothing that i can do to change this.” irene crossed her arms. she was completely tired of the way you were both behaving- just like two kids continuously throwing sand in each other’s eyes.

“fine.” you gave in, biting your tongue and swallowing your pride. there was no use being stubborn if the head office was involved, the best thing you could do in this situation was to choose being the bigger person.

irene raised an eyebrow at taehyun, waiting for his response as well.

“fine-“ he repeated after you, throwing daggers towards your direction. you were glad to know the feeling of disgust was mutual.

“finally” irene exclaimed, letting out a big sigh “took you long enough. here’s the modified plan papers. remember- there’s no way i’m allowing you to back out anymore”

you took the small stack of papers from her hands, skimming through the text. gather the gadgets and weapons, bla bla bla, disarm the bomb hidden at the event, bla bla bla, protect france’s president, bla bla bla, disguise yourself as a couple- wait.

“are you fucking kidding me- am i reading this right?” you spat out, eyes almost popping out at the sight. you went over the passage again and again, hoping that you had simply misread it- but there it was, black ink on white paper, the word written clear as day: “couple”

irene massaged her temples with her hands “in order for this mission to be carried out with ease, we need you to act as a cou-“

“no” you both said in unison, cutting her off.

you side-eyed taehyun, somehow feeling offended that he also declined the proposal right away. you knew you had your reasons to not accept that condition- but why was he saying “no”?

kang fucking taehyun- his name alone felt like poison on your tongue.

but it wasn’t like your hatred towards him was unjustified- in fact, you couldn't remember if there was even one second- let alone one day- where him just breathing didn’t make you feel like plotting murder. one day, he just strutted into the agency, acting like he owned the place. he was quick to gain respect from his superiors, his charms alone making it easier for him to receive more complicated missions- and better equipment. you being mad was an understatement. why? just because he was a man, he had it all easy. he has been in the agency for just one year, and he has already surpassed you in ranks, all of the hard work you’ve been putting in for years going down the drain.

you’ve been relentlessly trying to regain your honorable place in the agency. kang taehyun was quick to catch on to your little act, and he wasn’t one to back off easily either- resulting in the two of you being at each other’s necks every second. you viewed this mission as what could have possibly been ‘your redemption arc’. the universe somehow always found a way to get him involved in your business. but this time, you weren’t gonna let him steal your spotlight- not again. you needed to find a way to secure the number one place in rankings like you used to, and you were willing to do whatever it took to feel that glory one more time, even if that meant cooperating with the kang taehyun.

“if you die, i’ll kill you” you hissed.

“big words coming from someone who stands on a chair to reach the top shelves” he fought back, unfazed by your threat. your mouth opened at this accusation, when did he even catch you doing that?

“you piece of-“

“enough” irene sighed, moving to stand between the two of you “you’re gonna bring back my migraines if you keep on acting like that. can’t you treat each other as normal people do? just this once- please? you’re only making this harder for yourselves”

you sighed, rubbing the nape of your neck. irene was a sweetheart, she didn’t deserve to be the victim of your petty fight “when do we have to start?”

her eyes seemed to light up a bit, relieved by your change in attitude “as soon as possible” she skimmed through her notes again “the earliest flight is in 3 days- how about it?”

“that’s okay for me” you said. you silently glanced over at taehyun, who rolled his eyes, uncrossing his arms “guess i’m in too”.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

5 hours.

that was the amount of time you had to endure sitting next to taehyun on the flight. you could handle this, you tried to tell yourself. you’ve been in much worse situations during some of your missions. in the end, it didn’t necessarily mean that the two of you had to interact during that time. you could just sleep the whole flight away and not have to exchange a word with taehyun once.

wrong.

kang taehyun just seemed to love seeing you suffer, in any way, shape or form. it had you seriously contemplating whether he was some kind of sadist. you thought you could at least go through check in and security without any unpleasant incidents happening, but you were wrong- so painfully wrong.

you arrived two hours early to the airport, wanting to get done with the whole process as fast as possible then hide from taehyun at the food court until it was time for you to board the plane. however, two minutes after you took your place in the check-in line, your peace was disrupted.

“you’re early- were you that eager to see me, sweetheart?”

your eye was twitching at the sound of the nickname. you didn’t even have to turn your head to the right to know who was next to you.

“why did it have to be you here at this hour?” you grumbled.

“crazy- it’s almost as if we’re on the same flight” he rolled his eyes “don’t even think about going to the back of the line- we have the same last name on the tickets so we shouldn’t go separately anyway”

you loosened your grip on the suitcase and bit your cheek, it was like he knew your exact thoughts at the moment. the whole thing was all too corny for you- why did the company have to change your name and give you new documents? just because you were ‘a couple’ didn’t mean that you had to be married as well.

security didn’t exactly go smooth either- as if the whole process wasn’t already stressful enough. you should have been suspicious the moment taehyun let you sit in front of him at the line. at that moment, you just brushed it off and thought nothing of it, but when the metal detector went off as you were walking through- that’s when it all clicked.

that little fucker slipped one of his rings in your pocket.

a string of unholy words was running wildly in your mind as the security patted you down to search for any suspicious items. you wished you could jump on him and wipe that grin off his face. he somehow felt the need to embarrass you even further once the ring had been found. he put on a charming smile as he rubbed the nape of his neck, looking up at the security lady “so sorry for my wife- she tends to be quite clumsy, i told her before to check well before walking away from me”

the lady melted down in an instant, letting out a bunch of ‘it’s okay’ before handing you back the ring. he felt the need to make such a scene and for what? to feed his ego? you didn’t bother to wait until he was through with security as well. you gathered your things from the tray as fast as you could, storming past all the other people to get further away from him.

you browsed all the shops (sometimes even hiding in the dressing rooms) until you couldn’t avoid taehyun any longer. you didn’t talk to him once you met up again, even though you knew that it didn’t affect him anyway. nonetheless, taehyun ensured that your day would have a cherry on top- by stealing the one and only window seat.

and you?

you made sure to spill your water on him during turbulence.

that seemed to be enough to make him stop bothering you throughout the flight. he slept away as you played sudoku on your phone, too paranoid to fall asleep yourself in case he would wake up with new ideas in mind.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

after making sure that your bag smacked taehyun’s head when you took it from the upper storage, you both went to retrieve your luggage then headed out to find a taxi and go to your accommodation.

valets, chandeliers, grand paintings adoring the walls, the hotel seemed quite fancy. you weren’t really used to this kind of treatment from your agency, it was the least they could do for all the headaches you were going to endure throughout the mission.

the receptionist handed you the small paper sleeve containing the key cards. you furrowed your brows as you opened it, peering inside. there were 2 cards in there, but for the exact same hotel room. you instantly expressed your confusion “why is there just one r-“ taehyun kicked your foot, continuing to smile at the receptionist as you bit your tongue to hold back a scream. “is there anything else i can help you with?” she inquired.

“i’m pretty sure that’s it, thank you” taehyun answered before you could open your mouth to speak. he took hold of your arm, flashing the receptionist another fake smile before dragging you along with him towards the elevator.

“don’t touch me” you broke free from his grip “what the hell was that about?”

taehyun pressed the floor number on the keypad “are you that fucking dense? he sighed exasperatedly “we’re a couple- remember? we need to act like one, so stop having these unnecessary slip-ups”

‘stupid cover’ you cursed in your mind the person who had been in charge for outlining the plans for your mission. out of all the possible lies they could have made you hold on to- this is what they went for. it was almost like they did this on purpose to annoy you.

ding.

you took hold of your suitcase again, following behind taehyun as you searched for your room “besides- the hotel isn’t scruffy this time, their budget seems to be pretty high for once. so, they might have booked us a suite, not just a single room” he continued, trudging the door open.

your feet were frozen, not moving an inch from the doorway “taehyun- this is not a fucking suite” you snarled, slowly turning your head in his direction.

“why are you talking as if it’s my fault?” taehyun snapped back. he entered the room, bumping his shoulders against yours as you refused to go further in.

“well if you hadn’t been so quick to silence me at the reception- maybe this wouldn’t have been a problem” you pushed your suitcase in, putting your hands on your hips.

“and risk blowing our cover? yeah- what a great plan that would have been” he huffed.

“there’s no way i’m sharing a bed with you” you hissed

“don’t worry- it’s not a pleasure for me either sweetheart. it’s either sleeping on the floor- or with me. your choice”

taehyun didn’t seem like he would ever consider giving up his spot on the bed- but neither did you. you weren’t going to settle for back pain as he snored away on the soft mattress.

so, you laid down on the bed, as far away as you could from taehyun. you were sitting so close to the edge that you were on the verge of falling off, but you couldn't even stand the mere thought of being in such close proximity to him. the thought of his arm touching yours made your skin crawl.

yet, despite breathing in the same room as taehyun, you somehow managed to get what was probably the best sleep of your life. keeping your eyes closed just for one moment more, you held the blanket closer to you, enjoying the warmth it provided, snuggling your face deeper into the pillow beneath you. but the pillow wasn't as soft as you remembered when you put your head down to sleep last night. instead, it was hard, and somehow hot to the touch. confused, you brought a hand up and pressed down on it, slightly squeezing it, then removed it as if you had just gotten burnt when you were met with the feeling of bare skin on skin.

"if you wanted to touch me that badly you could have just asked, love" a raspy voice came from beneath you.

"what the fuck-" you shouted as you got up and finally opened your eyes. you squinted as you adjusted to the bright light coming from the sun.

kang taehyun was sitting right next to you, bare chest exposed and a playful smirk plastered on his face.

"how did we- when did you even take your shirt off?"

"are you always this loud in the morning?" he asked, ignoring your questions. his hair was a ruffled mess, slightly puffy face indicating that he hadn't been awake for that long either.

you still looked at him expectingly, waiting for him to answer. he huffed, rolling his eyes "you snuggled with your burning limbs close to me as you slept. i got overwhelmingly hot so i took off my shirt. there- simple as that"

"why didn't you just push me off or something" you asked. it wasn’t typical for him to act like this.

what taehyun said was indeed the truth. he couldn’t stand you- yes, but he wasn’t an asshole. he couldn’t find it in him to wake you up or pry you off him, as he didn’t want to wake up in the morning to you being groggy. therefore, he was left with only one option: enduring it.

pushing your question aside once more, taehyun got up from the bed, stretching as he made his way to the bathroom, he stopped right before getting past the door to speak "did you know you talk in your sleep? you seemed to enjoy it, i didn't want to ruin the fun for you." he snickered, disappearing into the other room.

you stood there with your jaw hanging, unable to form any kind of comeback to argue. was there even a way to recover from that? when you heard the shower running, you took a pillow from the bed, burying your face into it and silently screaming. you wanted to dig a hole for yourself at least 20 meters underground.

after regaining your composure, you got ready so that you and taehyun could get started on today’s task: gathering the necessary weapons and equipment. irene informed you about some namjoon guy they had a contract with. he apparently sold any kind of gear you would ever need for a mission: from smoke bombs to lethal poison- he had it all. you went to the outskirts of the city searching for a shabby cabin (not suspicious at all), the storage hidden away in an underground system there.

“are you sure this is the right place?” you asked taehyun, eyeing the old rusty door. the whole place just screamed ‘murder’, how exactly did your agency even come to find out about the guy? maybe you didn’t want to know.

“the coordinates match up with what irene sent us- so yeah, probably. try not to hold my hand if you’re so scared” he chuckled.

you ignored his childish remark, going past him to open the heavy door. the inside didn’t match up with the exterior, it was surprisingly warm and cozy. a man with purple hair and a black dress shirt was sitting on an armchair, book in hand. you assumed it was namjoon.

“oh- hello?” you didn’t exactly know how to approach him, you felt bad for barging in without even knocking.

his eyes glanced up from the book “ah” he got up “finally, i was worried irene didn’t send you the right location” he flashed you a dimpled smile. for a man who owned over one thousand weapons, you didn’t expect him to be this...cute?

taehyun bit his cheek “so you’re namjoon?”

“yes, and i already know who you two are. come on- follow me”

namjoon lead you towards an elevator, hidden away from curious eyes in a crowded closet. the ride down seemed almost endless, but that’s how it needed to be. if one single gunshot could be heard from the surface, his entire business could risk being destroyed.

“i’ve got a couple of things for you to try, as well as some accessories irene asked me to give you” namjoon put down a box on a table. it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary- laser pen, tracking devices, coat button cameras, the usual. the guns weren’t exactly essential for your mission, they were more of a safety precaution. either way, you still had to practice using them.

getting into the designated practice area, you and taehyun each had a target to hit. you needed at least 5 good shots in a row to be deemed skilled enough for the weapon. taehyun’s first try was perfect, meanwhile yours barely hit the target.

“seems like someone’s rusty”

“beginner’s luck” you mumbled.

giving it another go, you ended up with the same result. the exact thing happened the 3rd try as well. you frowned, it wasn’t usually like this for you, and taehyun’s cocky smirk only made your blood boil further.

“nervous?” he chuckled

“i’m just warming up- i need to get used to it” you got back into your shooting stance, putting your finger on the trigger.

“take your time, darling, hell’s happy to wait for you”

you missed again.

“can you just shut up for one fucking minute?” you huffed. you didn’t want to let taehyun get to you, but even when he didn’t open his mouth to speak you could still hear his voice in your mind, mocking you.

“i can give you something else if you want to-“ namjoon tried to help, not knowing he only angered you further.

“i need him out of sight- not another weapon” you quickly dismissed him “can i get a private practice room?”

“practicing in private won’t fix your lack of talent” you heard taehyun whisper.

if looks could kill, taehyun would be on the floor the second those words left his mouth “if i point this gun towards your direction i’ll make sure that it won’t be a miss” you fumed.

namjoon was clearly taken aback by the tension in the room. desperate to diffuse the situation, he kindly asked taehyun to look around the other areas as you practiced a few more rounds with him.

you felt bad for the guy, he was a victim to yet another one of your fights with taehyun. you kept the rest of your interactions with him short, wanting to get back to the hotel as soon as possible.

“look- i’ll buy you ice cream, will that make it better?” taehyun asked exasperatedly.

“i’m not a fucking child” you snarled. the only thing up until now that taehyun had managed to do successfully was ridiculing you- and you were fed up with it. did he think that some ice cream was going to erase all those embarrassing moments he had been putting you through?

“well what do you want me to do then?” he sighed.

“i don’t know- maybe stop acting like an asshole? like you’re better than me?”

taehyun stopped the car on the side of the road, his hands gripping the steering wheel harder “i’m not acting like an asshole” he turned his head to look at you.

“yes, you are- you did that the whole day and you are doing that right now” you said in utter disbelief. his snarky attitude was tipping you over.

“get out” he spoke firmly, breaking eye contact with you.

“what?”

taehyun didn’t know how much longer he could be with you in the car without losing his temper even more “i said get out” he repeated once again, closing his eyes “go on and find the way to the hotel yourself”

“fine” you scoffed. you grabbed your purse and slammed the car door as hard as you could once you got out of the vehicle. taehyun wasted no time getting back on the road. finally, he could breathe again.

“jerk” you screamed. what a great time to wear heels this was. you made your way to the side walk, shielding your eyes from the sun with your hands as you looked around, trying to recall any familiar surroundings. with every step you took, it felt like your foot was pressed into a hot piece of lego. you had been wearing those damn heels all day, and now the agonising pain was finally starting to kick in.

taehyun couldn’t help but constantly steal glances at you from the rearview mirror, watching as you struggled to walk without your feet wobbling. sighing, he waited until he could take a turn to go back and pick you up. maybe you weren’t the only one that acted like a kid.

getting back to the same spot he just left you at barely 2 minutes ago, taehyun stopped the car. yet you weren’t anywhere to be found. he got out to search the area better- nothing.

“shit” he mumbled under his breath.

taehyun couldn’t stay still as he waited for you to return. of course, he got to the hotel faster because of the car, but what was taking you so long to arrive? the thought of him ruining the mission because of a petty fight was tormenting his mind. he didn’t want to lose his job at the agency because of you. he kept on walking back and forth from the couch to the door, looking through the peephole for any sign of you coming down the hallway. and just as he was about to check again, for probably the 30th time that night, he heard knocking on the door. it was you- it had to be you. after all, the only other room key had remained with him, and there was no way someone else would disturb him at this ungodly hour.

taehyun cleared his voice, erasing any sign of worry on his face before opening the door, apology already on the tip of his tongue.

"y/n, i'm sorry-" taehyun spoke as soon as he saw you in the doorway, reaching his hand out to take your purse.

"fuck off" you spat out, slapping his hand away from you. you went straight to the bathroom and locked the door, not in the mood to hear any of his excuses. you stood with your back against the door, burying your face in your hands. you felt so tired and sick of having to deal with taehyun’s attitude. but you weren't gonna let him be the one to steal the spotlight from your mission- not again.

taehyun sighed heavily in front of the door, putting his hand down from knocking, choosing to simply let you be for a while. you had all the right to be mad, and he knew that.

you took a shower to cool off, refusing to look taehyun in the eyes, or even in his direction at all, as you got ready to go to sleep.

taehyun put his finger on the lamp's button, letting out those words that had been bugging him all night "just so you know- i did go back for you today, but i couldn't find you anymore. maybe that's gonna convince you that i really meant it when i said sorry" taehyun flicked off the light, huffing, pitch black darkness taking over the room.

you stayed silent, with your back turned to him, still too stubborn to accept his apology. 'he just wants to go to bed with a clean conscience' you tried to convince yourself. ・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

you were grateful to have woken up with your own personal space, unlike your first night there. taehyun wasn’t even on his side of the bed, the sound of the water running indicating that he had already beat you to the bathroom. you turned over to the side, ready to enjoy those few minutes of peace.

“huh” you brought a hand to your face, feeling something on your forehead. it was a sticky note. you rubbed your eyes, trying to make sense of what was written on the small piece of paper.

‘there’s ice cream in the freezer’

“what...” you mumbled, how did ice cream have anything to do with- oh.

you fought back a chuckle. so, the great taehyun couldn’t find the strength to own up to his actions and say the words ‘sorry’ a second time. still, you accepted his silent apology, going over to the freezer to get your hands on the sweet treat. how could you ever say no to something free?

taehyun got out of the bathroom as you still nibbled on the ice cream sandwich, the steam and heat instantly invading the room. you looked up from the piece of food in your hand, almost dropping it once your eyes laid on him. taehyun sat in the middle of the room, chest and sculpted abs on full display with a few water droplets adoring his skin from his still dripping hair.

“what are you blushing for? it’s not the first time you’re seeing me like this” he smirked.

“idiot- it’s the heat. your shower transformed the room into a whole sauna” you meekly tried to defend yourself, not wanting to give him any satisfaction. you cursed your cheeks for reacting like this well before your mind could even comprehend the situation.

“oh- so you’re talking to me again. i take it you forgive me?” he leaned against the door.

“don’t get ahead of yourself kang taehyun” you scoffed “it’s gonna take more than just an ice cream for me to fully forgive you”

“i know, you did tell me yesterday that ‘you’re not a child’. just thought it might sweeten that sour attitude of yours” he huffed.

“whatever- let me get changed, then we’ll get in touch with irene” you said as you walked over to your suitcase to grab some clean clothes.

“i already talked to her. she said there’s nothing we have to do for the day. we just need to wait for the big event tomorrow.”

“huh- you talked to her? when?” you raised your eyebrows at him. you could swear you hadn’t heard a single sound all morning.

“yeah- while you were busy snoring” he chuckled.

you scoffed at his reply “as if you’re a saint while you’re sleeping” there he went again with his ridiculous accusations.

“well- unlike you, i haven’t received any complaints from others” he winked at you.

“really? then here’s your first one- you’re loud as hell” you slammed the bathroom door. that wink and his cocky grin were enough to bring back the annoyance he always seemed to provoke within you.

taehyun loudly knocked as you were busy brushing your teeth “how long are you gonna stay in there? i have something to ask”

you rolled your eyes, taking the toothbrush out of your mouth to reply “i’ll be out in 5 minutes” you shouted back. you didn’t know whether it was curiosity or fear taking over you from his words.

taehyun was still in front of the door when you opened it to get out.

“wanna take advantage of the activities here? it’s not like we’re paying for any of this- the agency is. plus- we have the day off anyway” taehyun shrugged his shoulders. his proposal didn’t sound bad at all. you could definitely use some sort of relaxation, your whole body was still aching from walking in heels yesterday.

you put your hands over your mouth, gasping exaggeratedly “finally, i can’t believe there’s good ideas coming out of your mouth” you were actually excited for once about one of taehyun’s suggestions. this was your chance to detach yourself from all the stress, the mission, and most importantly- him.

“when do i not have good ideas?” taehyun brought a hand to his chest. he sounded offended by your statement.

“i’m not going to answer that.” you replied shortly.

grabbing your bathrobes from the reception, you and taehyun headed towards the hotel’s spa facility. the area was filled with all sorts of natural plants and bamboo furniture, the meditation music being accompanied by the quiet sound from the mini artificial waterfall in the middle of it all. having such a packed schedule all the time, you never got any opportunities to spoil yourself in places like this. the anticipation and excitement were making your heart bubble up with joy, but your smile quickly dropped once you arrived in the massage room.

“taehyun, why didn’t you mention the hotel activities being couple activities” you hissed. standing in the doorway, you looked in terror at the swarm of lovey dovey pairs sitting on yoga mats in front of you.

“did you think i made the proposal knowing that?” he scoffed.

“well i can’t seem to understand how you overlooked such a major detail??”

“listen- the poster said couple massages. how the hell was i supposed to know that they’re making us do the work for each other? i just thought we’d both get a massage done at the same time”

“you must be the kangs, welcome” the host greeted you “come on, sit down. we were just getting started with a simple shoulder massage” she pointed to the last empty mat in the room, then motioned for you to begin.

taehyun’s eyelids fluttered shut as you awkwardly placed your hands on his shoulders, the material of the robe doing almost nothing to hide the feeling of the rock hard muscles underneath. you grimaced as you pressed your fingers down, trying to reminisce the movements you’d use while preparing pizza dough.

“you’re doing it wrong” he deadpanned, opening his eyes to make direct eye contact with you.

“shut the hell up”

you didn’t know what you were doing- yes. but were you going to admit that to taehyun? absolutely not. rolling your eyes, you continued to clumsily massage the tense muscles.

“i can’t feel a goddamn thing” he complained again.

“how about now?” you pinched his skin between your thumb and your index finger, using as much pressure as you could. taehyun’s face distorted in pain as he crumbled beneath you “for fuck’s sake-“ he grabbed your wrists, stopping you from provoking him even more suffering “how are you so bad at this?”

frustrated, you moved your hands away from his body “if you think you’re that great, why don’t you give it a shot?”

“i will give it a shot” he snarled.

the host approached the two of you just as taehyun placed his hands on you “what a lovely couple” she smiled. nudging taehyun, she whispered one more thing before walking away “remember, use your hands gently, like you’re touching the most delicate petal”

taehyun’s ears turned a bright shade of red at the sound of that. he bit his lip so hard trying not to laugh at her words, you were surprised he didn’t end up drawing blood.

“close your eyes, petal” he snickered.

you snorted at the nickname, doing as he said regardless. taehyun’s hands were surprisingly warm. he did his best mimicking the actions from the couples around you, his long slender fingers massaging your muscles with such care, you could feel all the built-up tension melting away.

“wait- this is kinda nice” you spoke quietly.

“told you so”

you hoped taehyun wouldn’t catch that, but of course, he did. you opened one eye, tempted to wipe that cocky smirk off his face. getting ahold of yourself, you chose not to, you never knew when taehyun would treat you this nicely again. you sighed, allowing yourself to enjoy the feeling. this was the least he could do to pay you back for all the headaches he had caused you so far throughout the mission.

you did make a few other attempts to give taehyun a massage, but even with the host’s instructions, he was never satisfied. in the end, he gave up, preferring to do all the work himself instead of letting you touch him again. he probably left the spa room feeling more tense than when he had arrived, the only thing bringing him some sort of consolation being the free bottle of wine at the end of the lesson- which he opened as soon as you came back to your hotel room.

after getting changed, you sat down next to taehyun on the bed, noticing only one wine filled glass on the table “aren’t you gonna share that?”

“after all the pain i’ve went through today? don’t think so” he replied before taking a sip of the crimson beverage.

“don’t be a jerk” you snapped back “i tried my best”

taehyun sighed heavily, grabbing the other clean glass in the room to pour you some of the wine. you muttered a quick ‘thanks’ before taking it from his hands, downing the liquid almost immediately.

“what the fuck are you doing” he grabbed your wrist “take it easy- our mission is tomorrow, i don’t think you want to wake up with a headache” there was a hint of worry hidden in his stern voice.

“a bit more won’t hurt- i just want to sleep well tonight” you replied. your hand was already reaching for the bottle to pour another one. taehyun simply rolled his eyes, hoping that you’d stop after the seccond glass. yet- you repeated your actions, downing the glass and going for the bottle right after. this time, taehyun snatched it away from your hands and hid it behind the bed.

“don’t ruin the fun-“ you furrowed your brows “just give me the bottle”

you stood up, towering over taehyun as you extended your arm. he wasn’t expecting you to put up such a fight, but his reflexes were sharp- he took hold of your arm quickly, making you lose your balance and stumble over him. his hand came down to your waist to hold you as you landed in his lap, not allowing you to slip away anymore. you looked at him with wide eyes, your loud heartbeat drumming against his chest. “don’t make me repeat myself” he muttered.

“or what?” you provoked him further. your eyes shifted their focus on his lips, sitting centimeters apart from yours. you had never paid attention before to how soft they looked- so soft and rosy, your mind couldn’t help but wander off and think about how they would feel on yours. taehyun seemed to become nervous underneath your gaze, his breathing became ragged, hand gripping your waist slightly tighter. he licked his lips before moving his face closer to yours, yet still not enough to fully close the gap. your eyelids fluttered shut, and he smirked at your action, his thumb coming to graze your lower lip slowly.

“or you might just make me lose myself completely” he breathed out. his gaze was still fixated on your lips, only tempting him further to give in, to let go of everything that had been holding him back until now from accepting that it wasn’t hatred he felt upon seeing you, or even hearing your name. he had been convinced that you hating him meant that he was supposed to feel the same, but he couldn’t- and he could barely even fake it anymore. especially now, when you somehow managed to completely break down his guard in mere seconds. thinking this through, taehyun chose to back away. he didn’t have the confirmation whether it was your actual feelings leading your actions, or just the alcohol in your system.

he cleared his throat, removing his hands from your body and putting that usual cold façade back on “like i’ve said, our mission is tomorrow. you should probably go to bed” his eyes didn’t meet yours when you opened them to look at him again.

your gaze shifted to the floor, you were unable to hide the underlying disappointment in your voice “yeah- you’re right”. you hesitated a bit before finally separating yourself from him, the warmth of his body gone just as the excitement that was beginning to take over your heart. you put your head down on the pillow, the sound of more wine getting poured in a glass being heard as you closed your eyes and drifted off to sleep.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・ "your tie is lopsided, let me fix that" you walked over to taehyun. there was just one hour left until the event started. the atmosphere in the room was suffocating, to say the least.

taehyun scoffed upon hearing that "i can definitely do a better job than you" yet, he didn't make any movement to stop you from touching him or his clothes “everything is just a competition for you… isn’t it?” you said bitterly, your eyes were fixated on his chest, his tie in your hand.

“isn’t it for you, too?” taehyun asked. he immediately regretted his question, the words seemed to roll off his tongue as an automatic response. he peered into your eyes, although he was hesitant to hear your answer. you paused for a moment before continuing, refusing to look up and meet his gaze "maybe i don't want it to be anymore"

you went back to the mirror, trying to look busy as you "fixed" your makeup, although you had already ensured it was perfect with each step you did.

taehyun didn't say anything to that. it wasn't the time he could let himself be swayed by his emotions. you were both at the peak of your mission, where high attention was demanded and no mistakes were allowed to be made. he cleared his throat before speaking, trying to change the conversation from the sensitive topic "you look good" "thanks" you looked down, playing a bit more with the lipstick in your hand before stuffing it in your purse "we should go" "yeah- we should" he repeated after you, grabbing the spare card for your hotel room.

the entire venue was filled with well-known people from the political field, as well as celebrities. the event had been long planned to celebrate the president’s birthday. however, he started to have a rising suspicion that someone was after him, wanting to backstab him so that they could steal his position, which is how you got into the play. your team was able to pinpoint the enemy’s plan of action due to their sloppy preparation. they talked freely around Élysée Palace about their intention, completely unaware of the mics hidden all around the building. they were going to infiltrate the office and place a bomb there, wiping out the president without putting themselves at much risk.

being nervous was an understatement. it’s been long since you’ve been assigned such an important mission- way too long. the fact that you didn’t know whether you were going to make direct contact with the enemy didn’t help either.

taehyun seemed to be glued to your side, not letting you go once. he held you by the waist the whole time you were walking around, searching for your table. his eyes were trained on you, not allowing the disgusting rich men in the room to think that they can lay a finger on you, not even for one second.

“why do you keep on holding me so close?” you wondered aloud.

“we need to act like a couple- did you forget that again?”

“that doesn’t mean i’m not allowed to walk on my own” you said trying to break yourself free yourself from his grip. but taehyun stopped you before you could fully do so, he grabbed your wrist, bringing your back flushed against his chest. he dipped down to whisper in your ear “sweetheart, let’s not make a scene now- shall we?” he twirled you around, swaying your body to the rhythm of the music to disguise your actions as natural.

“now- let’s discuss. when do you want to put our plan into action?” he leaned down to whisper once again. his voice sent shivers down your spine.

“not yet- we haven’t been here for long and leaving so early would raise suspicion” you muttered.

“then- how about a drink?” taehyun brought you closer, not breaking eye contact with you.

you nodded “a drink sounds good” just like the ‘massage’, there was no way you could turn down something you didn’t have to pay for yourself.

taehyun spun you around once more before heading off to the bar. you continued the search for your table, settling down on one of the chairs as you waited for him.

“what is a princess like you doing all alone?” a sleazy man approached you, reeking of sweat and alcohol. your senses were instantly on high alert, you were praying that taehyun wouldn’t take much longer to return.

“i’m not alone- i’m just waiting for someone” you tried to dismiss him, hoping that he would walk away and leave you alone. but a man’s confidence seems to skyrocket when they drink, so of course, he didn’t back down so easily.

“say, why won’t you have a drink with me while you wait?” his hand was in motion, inching closer to touch your shoulder. it abruptly stopped upon hearing a voice from behind him.

“i’m afraid i’ve already taken care of that, sir” taehyun settled down the drinks on the table before occupying the empty chair next to you. he noticed from far away how uncomfortable you looked and he rushed to get back to you, almost spilling the drinks in the process.

he placed one of his hands on your knee, trying to give the man a subtle hint that he should give up and leave you alone.

“i’m sure one more drink wouldn’t hurt? right, miss?” he continued.

taehyun clicked his tongue, increasingly annoyed by his presence “i’m pretty sure it would, though”

the man’s smile was wiped off his face as soon as taehyun said that, his hand gripped his bottle of beer tighter “why won’t you let her answer, hm?”

you were unsure what to do- you wanted to get rid of him, but you didn’t want to anger him further either. you weren’t supposed to draw any kind of attention towards yourselves, if this were to turn into a big argument, it could damage your mission badly. taehyun’s hand on your knee felt reassuring. at the same time, it made your heart skip a beat whenever he gave it a light squeeze.

“what if i search for you once i finish this first, would that be good?” you did your best fake smile, so that he wouldn’t see directly through your lie. somehow, that answer was good enough for him. he nodded, smiled, then walked away.

taehyun slumped into the chair, taking a sip of the cognac he ordered.

“thank you” you spoke softly “you came just at the right moment”

taehyun’s ears turned red at that “now maybe you understand why i wasn’t letting you go before” he played with the glass in his hand. you bit your lip and nodded, taking a sip of the drink yourself. taehyun had good taste.

you both settled for analysing your surroundings as you drank, making small remarks here and there about the people around you. however, once your glasses were empty, taehyun could already notice the same man approaching your table again. he got up abruptly, taking your wrist and tugging you along with him.

“hey- what’s gotten into you?” you asked. you couldn’t figure out the expression he had on his face, nor his actions. taehyun loudly knocked on the bathroom door. upon hearing no answer, he dragged you in, locking the door after him “weren’t you the one saying that we shouldn’t make a scene?”

“and what was i supposed to do? sit there and watch as he tried to touch you again?” he huffed.

“why are you acting like this? maybe i wouldn’t have minded having a drink with another man” you provoked him further. that wasn’t actually the case- the quick lie slipped past your lips in the heat of the moment, as you were curious to see where he was going to end up with this.

"oh really?" taehyun pressed his tongue against his cheek, crossing his arms. he took a step closer towards you, to which, at first, you chose not to react.

"yes, really."

you tried to sound confident as you talked, but taehyun took note of your pursed lips “you know, lying doesn't suit you, sweetheart." he took another step towards you then another- until you had no choice but to take a few steps back yourself, not stopping until your back hit the wall.

“you know what? i don’t get you-“ you snapped “and i’m tired of trying to figure you out” you pressed a finger to his chest, letting out all those pent-up frustrations that had been tormenting you for the past few days “you keep on giving me these mixed signals- your actions never seem to match your words. how do you even think i felt today? or after last night? do you even care about that?”

you chuckled drily as taehyun remained silent. “why won’t you just give me a clear answer?” your gaze dropped to the floor "if you had the guts, kang taehyun, you would have kissed me"

taehyun's eyes looked sharp, he inched closer to you, bringing your chin up with his hand so that he could look directly into your eyes "you think something is stopping me from doing that right now?" he tilted his head and smirked, slight amusement hidden in his voice.

"then do it" you said firmly, pushing him over the edge.

taehyun slipped his other hand on the small of your back, holding you close so that he could press his mouth on yours, hot and heavy. he wasted no time to lick your lips with his tongue, silently asking for permission to deepen the kiss. you opened your mouth for him, the feeling of his lips and tongue even more intoxicating than the alcohol that you had consumed earlier that night. he lifted one of your legs up, letting his fingers dance along the bare skin that was revealed once your dress slid up with the movement. your body felt hot all over, you hadn't even known how badly you were craving for his touch until you got to experience it. you clasped your hands behind his neck, then dragged them along his back, slightly scratching it with your nails. taehyun groaned at the feeling, hoisting your other leg up as well so that you could wrap them both around his waist. he moved on to your neck, biting at the skin in a slightly hidden area. it was just enough to remind that man and all those other people lurking after you tonight that you were only his. he carried you over to the sink, putting you on the edge of the counter there so that he could have better access to your neck.

there was knocking on the door, followed by the rattling of the doorknob.

"tae-"

taehyun put his index finger over your lips, shushing you as he covered you whole in kisses: your neck, your collarbones, your chest, all the way down to the valley of your breasts, the area exposed by the cleavage of your dress.

"they'll leave" he spoke against your skin.

the image of a ticking clock crossing your mind every now and then filled you with worry and pressure "we should leave too-" taehyun pressed his finger over your lips once more.

"tae-" you breathed out again "-the mission"

"just a bit more” he whispered “there's still time" he looked up at you, those big eyes of his, filled to the brim with desire, pleaded you to let him continue. you grabbed the collar of his shirt, connecting your lips with his again. you sighed in contentment, letting him take control over the kiss. soft gasps and wet lips, his warm mouth on your skin- you got lost into it all, not caring for one second whether your hair or your dress were turning into a mess.

you could barely bring yourself to stop, and when you did, it felt like your cheeks had been set on fire. you hid your face in the crook of taehyun’s neck, breathing heavily against his skin as your brain finally processed what had just happened between the two of you.

you kissed kang taehyun

no-

you made out- with kang taehyun

and you enjoyed it.

in fact, you enjoyed it so much you seriously contemplated ditching the event just to feel his lips on yours for a few moments more.

the rational part of you was stronger “come on- we have a mission to complete” you pressed a quick peck on taehyun’s lips. he smiled, taking his time to fix your appearance before holding your hand and reaching for the door.

“let’s do it” he breathed out.

you sneaked past the security guards and reached the hallway towards the office. you wished you could have collaborated with them, but there was no way you could have known whether the person betraying the president was one of them or not, and you didn’t feel like risking your cover.

your hand reached towards the doorknob, wanting to check whether the door was locked or not. taehyun spoke right before you touched it.

“don’t- it’s dangerous, the bomb could be on the door”

you slowly retracted your hand. you didn’t think this through, and quickly jumped into action. taehyun was right, and you had to find a way to test his theory right before making another attempt at getting in.

you used some of the gadgets irene bought for you, making a small hole inside the wall and pushing through an extendable stick with a camera to look inside.

bingo.

the bomb was placed flushed against the door. had taehyun not stopped you before, you would have both been dead in an instant.

“seems like we’ll have to find another way in” you muttered.

taehyun eyed the outside window “how are your wall climbing skills?”

“not bad at all” you offered to go first, it was probably your best shot for now.

the distance between this window and the one in the office wasn’t that long either, you were just hoping that there weren’t any curious eyes looking up at the building from the garden.

melting away the lock on the window, you succeeded to get in. taehyun followed right after you, jumping inside. the bomb didn’t have a timer on it, the wire connected to the doorknob was what would made it go off. you had to give this one to them, it was pretty smart- this way, they ensured that they had less chances of missing their target.

“any updates?” irene’s voice was heard from your ear piece.

“yeah- we’re in. the enemy’s plan isn’t so bad after all, they just organised it poorly”

“that’s great- but you need to hurry up. you don’t have much time until the guy checking the security cameras alerts the other guards”

“got it” you replied

“so no pressure at all” taehyun laughed as he searched for the necessary tools. the bomb wasn’t unlike anything else you’ve seen before. the only thing you needed to do was follow the procedure carefully, so as not to miss any steps.

taehyun took it upon himself to do it, even though you were both in just as much danger anyway. you helped him out as much as you could, reassuring him that he followed all the steps in the right order and giving him new tools whenever he needed to switch.

“shit-“ you could hear heavy footsteps going up the stairs “they’re onto us, you need to hurry”

“hang on- i’m almost done” taehyun tried his best to remain calm, he couldn’t have his hands trembling at this very moment.

“you either show yourselves, or we’ll have no choice but to barge in” a male voice shouted from behind the door. they were definitely not alone.

“2 more wires” he whispered.

you were growing impatient, but you bit your tongue trying to remain silent, taehyun had to remain concentrated.

“we’ll take your silence as an answer” the man shouted again before starting a countdown.

3, 2, 1-

the door was busted down from its shackles.

the guards remained silent as they were met with...an empty room?

you and taehyun barely managed to make it out on time, and you were now holding your breath as you clung onto the outside wall again. you entered the building through another window from the floor beneath you before they had a chance to inspect the area and potentially see you.

after making sure you were in a safe zone, you reached out to irene again: “we’re done here- we’ll send you that fucker’s fingerprints”

“excellent”

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

taehyun called the reception as you were taking a cab back to the hotel. he requested 2 bottles of wine for you to drink as a form of celebration. you couldn’t wait to lie down and drink to your heart’s content.

so now- here you were, you sitting in taehyun’s lap as he tried his best not to laugh in your face at your drunken words and actions. it seemed like you couldn’t handle alcohol that well when you were exhausted.

“can you kiss me again?” you asked quietly, closing your eyes before you could even notice his reaction. taehyun was taken aback by your sudden proposal, but nevertheless, fondness took over his eyes in an instant. he cupped your cheeks, bringing your face closer to him until your noses were touching. then, he opted for pressing a soft kiss on the corner of your lips, to which you opened your eyes, cheeks burning at the small gesture. “god- you’re making me go crazy” he spoke softly against your lips. his hand took hold of your wrist, leaving a tender kiss on your pulse point “let’s get you to bed”

you shook your head, dipping your head down to bury your face in his chest as you hugged him tightly. silence filled up the room for a moment before you finally spoke again “maybe it was supposed to be like this from the beginning.” your voice was slightly muffled as you refused to move away from your spot. taehyun ran his hands through your hair “…like what?”

“i don’t know. maybe we were never supposed to hate each other" those words rolled off your tongue softly, your eyes getting heavier with each passing second.

taehyun tucked a few strands behind your ear. your words tugged at his heart, and it was like something clicked for the both of you as you voiced out your drunken thoughts. it was stupid-so stupid. all this time, you had both been too caught up in the high created by all the praises and achievements. you were taught to eliminate any kind of obstacle that came your way whenever you set a goal, you forgot to look at each other as just...humans. sure, the pride that bloomed in your chest whenever you successfully cleared yet another mission felt good, but has that ever felt as good as taehyun's touch? his lips on yours, rough hands enveloping yours as a silent sign of care and reassurance, arms circling your waist to keep you close, to keep you safe. you never paid much attention to human relationships, and perhaps that was the reason why, once you stepped foot into your empty apartment, once the cheers died down, you had never felt truly satisfied with your life.

hearing the sound of light snores coming from beneath him, taehyun looked down to find you already fast asleep in his lap. “cute” he chuckled, secretly taking out his phone for a pic, the corners of his mouth turning up at the thought of teasing you about it tomorrow. he slowly detangled your hand that was holding on to his shirt tightly, then lifted you up to carry you over to your side of the bed. he frowned upon noticing that you never had the chance to take off your dress. diverting his eyes as much as he could, taehyun took it off for you, blushing as he slid one of his shirts over your head. he didn't want to invade your privacy, he just wished you could rest comfortably after experiencing such a draining day.

“sleep well, y/n” taehyun pressed a kiss against your temple before getting underneath the covers himself. he sighed in contentment as he brought himself closer to you, your soft rhythmic breaths and warm body putting his own at ease.

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