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#in any pairing you can imagine a situation where he'd be like 'what do you mean come back to your place
hyuckiefluff · 7 months
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hihi! can i request corruption kink with jeno or hyuck?? if thats okay!
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a/n: thank u for requesting!! i decided to do jeno bc i haven’t written anything for him yet oh and somebody else requested that i do something similar to my jaemin request with jeno so two birds one stone i guess? anyways enjoy!!!!! psa i got way more requests than i expected so thank u to everyone who sent im gonna try to get thru all of them as quickly as possible (if college doesn’t k!ll me first)
btw thank u for 400 followers! love u all
pairing: jeno x tutor!reader
wc: 2k
content: smut
warnings: cursing, fingering, masturbation, edging (kind of) , mentions of food (ice cream), big dick jeno ofc, backshots yuh!!!, rough sex, jeno is kinda too much in this lol, marking, cum eating, taking risky pics without consent, no after care, usage of pet names like pretty and baby *whispers* and whore. lmk if i missed any
masterlist
Jeno had always liked experienced girls. The kind he didn't have to treat with gloves, who were game for him to fuck so hard that they'd feel it afterward. At least, that's what he thought he was into.
Then you walked into the picture as his little brother's tutor. You were always polite and proper, wearing those buttoned up shirts and pencil skirts that gave off a more mature vibe than your actual age. He knew you recently graduated college, which he liked because you were older than him. But the thing is, you were incredibly innocent and naive. I mean, you didn't even catch on when his brother cracked those not-so-subtle, inappropriate jokes about you.
Jeno wouldn't usually spare a second thought for someone like you. After all, you couldn't even hold his gaze for more than a couple of seconds. So, why on earth was he now holed up in the bathroom, pumping himself to the thoughts of your ass in that skirt? Maybe it was because of how clueless you were, bending over the table to help his brother with his work, offering Jeno a perfect view of your perked ass. He tried to resist, truly he did, but it was hard, especially when your shirt hiked up, exposing the curve of your back.
Jeno had to make a quick exit from the living room, and now… Here he was, working up a sweat in the cramped bathroom trying to imagine your hand, or even your mouth, around his dick instead of his own. Imagining how he'd finish all over your face, leaving you in a state of shock and fluster, those big, innocent eyes looking up at him.
"Shit..." he whimpered shakily, the release of his pent-up load leaving him trembling as the white liquid ended up dripping messily all over the bathroom's curtain. This was getting ridiculous… he needed to fuck someone now.
A sudden knock at the door made him jump, his dick still exposed, flopping around as he hurried to check that the door was securely bolted. He quickly adjusted his pants, grabbed some toilet paper, and tried to clean up the mess as much as possible.
What he didn't expect was to find you standing there when he opened the door, holding a popsicle.
He vaguely remembered you saying something about getting ice cream for everyone because it was so hot. That was right before he had bolted upstairs to deal with his urgent situation.
The popsicle was melting, its crimson contents dripping down your hand and arm. Jeno couldn't help but feel like the universe was testing him, and he swore he felt his dick come alive again.
"Oh, sorry... Uhm... I kind of made a mess," you laughed airily but averted your gaze when the eye contact got a bit too intense "Your brother mentioned you guys had wet wipes in here."
"Uh, yeah, down there" Jeno finally responded after a few moments of silently staring at you. You bent down to check under the sink where he directed you, giving him another tempting view of your ass. You missed the quiet grunt he let out while discreetly adjusting the growing situation in his pants. 
You straightened up after finding the wet wipes, looking somewhat torn between putting the popsicle down to clean yourself or eating it quickly. Jeno sensed your struggle and casually reached his arm from behind you to take the popsicle from your hand, allowing you to clean up properly.
"Oh, thanks," you said, using the wet wipes to clean your arms and the stained area on your shirt.
Jeno silently watched you in the mirror, his attention focused on the way the white shirt clung to your skin as you diligently worked to remove the stain. When you finally looked up, you found him eating the popsicle—the very one you had been licking just moments ago. Locking eyes with you, he noticed your bewildered expression and gave you a lopsided smile "It was melting."
"Oh..." you said quietly, the heat rushing to your ears revealing your flustered state.
You tried to return to your task, but he stopped you by suddenly grabbing your wrist. His own hand was now sticky from the melting popsicle. He pulled you closer to him and reached his hand to your face, using his thumb to rub against the corner of your lip "You got ice cream here too," but instead of withdrawing his hand after, he surprised you by slipping his thumb into your mouth. 
You would have pulled back if you weren’t completely taken aback by what was going on.
With his finger still in your mouth, he playfully pressed the popsicle against your collarbone. The cold sensation sent a shiver down your spine, and your tongue brushed against his finger instinctively. The sight of your mouth enveloping his digit drove his self-control right out the window. He carelessly dropped the popsicle in the sink and leaned in closer, crowding your personal space with his larger frame. His cold hands sneaked under your shirt, and with a quick move, he unhooked your bra straps from your shoulders, exposing more skin for him to explore.
 "Jeno... I don't think this is ri-..right," 
"Why not?" he asked, his face burying in your neck, coaxing soft whimpers from your lips.
"Your... brother... he—"
"He's probably busy googling the answers to his exercises, believe me, he doesn't need you back just yet” He assured, pulling you even closer against his hips, causing your skirt to ride up and reveal your panties.
“I knew you were a whore,” he tutted, realizing you were wearing black lace “You wear lingerie to tutor students?" he chuckled dryly, biting a smile as you attempted to cover yourself.
"I’m n–," you whispered, but your words were cut short as his teeth grazed against your skin, leaving marks and savoring the fruity taste left by the popsicle. He didn't bother with the buttons of your shirt, causing a few of them to pop open from the stretch.
Your bra had slipped down too, partially exposing your breasts.
“You like being used like this, don’t you?" he teased, leaning back to take in the sight of your disheveled appearance. Your bruised neck from the sucking and biting, the strands of hair that clung to your flushed face, and your lace panties on display. 
He reached for his phone inside his pocket and snapped a quick picture of you in that state. Your expression instantly shifted to one of panic.
"What… are you doing?" You tried to slide off the sink, but he pressed back against you, his hips pinning you in place.
"Don't worry, this is just for me to enjoy later."
Then he kissed you, shushing any protests you had. His hand crept undetected inside your skirt and under your panties, his index finger gingerly spreading your folds. The action made you gasp against his tongue and then, without warning, he inserted a finger. The intrusion made you try to press your thighs together but he was standing between them so it was impossible. Every time he pumped his finger inside, his hips rutted against you, and you could feel the tent forming in his sweatpants brushing against your clothed core.
“…‘m gonna fuck you like no one ever has before,” He groaned against your lips.
He intentionally slowed down to a pace that almost seemed teasing as the knot in your stomach became almost unbearable. But given how shameful this situation already was, you didn’t want to ask for more.
"Are you that desperate for cock, hmm baby?" Jeno asked as you instinctively tugged on the waistband of his sweatpants to bring him closer and relieve the friction.
His finger pumped a few more times before he completely withdrew it. The emptiness immediately made you whimper.
"I'll give you what you want then," he replied as he reached into his sweatpants and casually pulled out his dick. You didn't want to stare like a pervert but... wow. You felt your legs quiver just from its sheer size. There was no way in hell you could take that.
You found it difficult to imagine how anything that big could fit comfortably inside of you. 
The smug smirk on his face told you that he liked your reaction "Clearly never seen one so big,"
"Jeno, I can't… we shouldn’t"
"But what kind of gentleman leaves a lady who is obviously in need?" He said cynically as he pulled down your panties.
No more words were necessary, the tension that had been building reached its peak as he aligned himself with your entrance. Jeno tried not to show any vulnerability, but the way your walls tightened around him, even though he was barely inside, was driving him crazy.
As he gradually entered you, soft, breathless gasps escaped your swollen lips. Your hands clung to the sink, keeping you from losing your balance. He stretched you so intensely that it made your eyes roll to the back of your head. You knew it defied anatomical possibility but as he bottomed out, you had a feel that if you touched your lower belly, you might just be able to feel him there.
“'m gonna move," he said through gritted teeth, more like a statement than a question. And with that, he started to thrust, not giving you much time to get used to the feeling of being so incredibly full.
As his hips met yours in a rough rhythm, he mumbled praises while also calling you things you'd never tolerate from anyone else.
"You feel so tight... for me," he groaned, his hand reaching for your face so you would look up at him.
“Eyes up here, doll,” he said in a breathless tone, the pace so fast and rough that it left no room for coherent thoughts. The knot in your stomach twisted, sending waves of almost painful pleasure through you. Your entire body buzzing with his desperate movements.
“J-..J-..Jeno…” His name was the only word that escaped your lips, each thrust causing your voice to quiver.
Suddenly, he lifted you by your ass and turned you around to face the misty mirror. Both your reflections appeared hazy in the condensation-covered glass so he messily wiped it with one hand and then resumed his thrusting. Now, you could see the way your expression changed each time he hit that spot deep inside you.
He continued fucking into you relentlessly, whispering how you would remember the outline of his cock by the time he was finished. His saliva-slicked lips left wet trails on the skin beneath your ear. From this close proximity, you could even hear the soft moans he struggled to suppress. 
Suddenly, a thought flashed through your mind, and with a hoarse voice, you pleaded, "Jeno... don't cum inside."
He hummed against your hair but continued ramming into you, and for a moment, you thought he hadn't heard you. However, just as your orgasm swept over you, he pulled out. You sighed in relief and rested your forehead against the steamy mirror, seeking a few moments of calm.
But Jeno had other plans and wiithout giving you a moment to catch your breath, he turned you around and had you on your knees. You looked up at him confused until he aligned his cock with your mouth.
"Open wide," he said, and with no energy left to complain, you did as told.
You expected him to shove his dick into your mouth, but instead, he stroked it a few more times before releasing his load all over your face. Most of it landed in your mouth, but some also splashed onto your cheeks and chin.
"Swallow," he said with a commanding tone, a stark contrast to the way he gently stroked your face.
You complied, taking in as much as you could. You even used a finger to collect the excess and popped it into your mouth. Savoring it much like you did when you licked the ice cream off his finger. Jeno bit his lip, trying to contain himself before he fucked you thrice more against the wall.
“Go ahead and clean yourself, pretty. You got a lesson to finish," he said, adjusting his sweatpants. And with one last chaste kiss on your lips, he left the bathroom.
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fandomxpreferences · 1 year
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Knight in a Flight Suit
Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x female!reader
TW: swearing, violence, groping
Summary: You like to run your mouth and have no problem stepping up to a man. Why? Because you have your very own security guard.(Based off this post)
Word Count: 1.4k
A/N: GIF is same energy just not fresh out of the shower. Also, you know that scene of Jax in sons of anarchy where he's smoking and suddenly throws a hook that sends the guy into another dimension? That's exactly what im imagining. 
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Over the years you've gained a reputation for being rather..feisty. Especially with men. You didn't get to where you are in your career by taking things lying down, and you've never had a problem going toe to toe with anybody.
Sure it's gotten you in some situations a few times, namely when you square up to a man whose mother didn't teach them not to hit women. But you've never had issues with holding your own. 
Then you met the dagger squad. If it wasn't your husband watching your back, it was Rooster. And if it's not Rooster it's Maverick. If not maverick, then Coyote, and so on. You basically have your own security team, so yea, you're pretty confident in your ability to talk shit to any man who looks at you the wrong way. 
Usually though, Jake is the only line of defense you need. Ever since the two of you started dating three years ago, a man hasn't gotten within five feet of you. It only amplified when you got married. Jake would set fire to the world if it meant keeping you safe, and he'd do it with a smile. Tonight is a perfect example of that. 
You're standing at the bar waiting for yours and Jake's beers when you feel a hand skim across your back about two inches too far south. You don't like someone touching you at all, but when the man's hand lingers on your ass and gives a light squeeze, you whip around to face him.
"Get your grimy fucking hands off of me." You smack his hand away and the man chuckles. "Looks like we've got a live one." He smirks and you see red. 
You size the man up, and he takes it as you checking him out. You don't correct him, usually playing the helpless victim works out in your favor. He's got maybe 40 pounds and half a foot on you but that's never stopped you before. 
He reaches out for your waist and you quickly step back to avoid him. At this point you're fairly certain you know how this will end and you're just playing along to see how far he'll take it. 
The man laughs and quirks his head to the side, clearly taking it as a challenge. "Playing hard to get, huh? That's fine, I like the chase." 
His grin reminds you of the Cheshire Cat and your face contorts in disgust. His smile drops when he sees your reaction and this time it's your turn to smirk. Let the games begin. 
You square your shoulders and straighten up to your full height. You go to take a step forward and the man's eyes darken. "You think you can fight me? I don't give a fuck you're a woman, I'll knock your ass clean out." He laughs. 
You watch him stand up straight and your eyes never leave his face, even as you have to adjust your angle to be looking up at him. Before either of you can say or do anything else, Jake is standing in front of you. 
He has his back to the man, forming a physical barrier and putting a few feet of space between the two of you. "What's going on here, sweet cheeks?" His eyes are glued to yours, never even looking at the man he'd most likely be in the parking lot with in the next five minutes. 
Your posture relaxes in his presence, knowing Jake just made whatever problem you were about to have his own. Your eyebrows shoot up as you gesture to the man behind him.
"Shrimp dick over there decided to grope me. When I didn't let it slide he threatened to knock me out cold." You explain, eyes still on the threat. 
The man points his finger angrily in your direction, ignoring the blonde pilot. "Watch your fucking mouth." 
Jake visibly tenses and you laugh at the man, fully aware of the mistake he just made. It's one thing for you to tell Jake about it, but for someone to have the balls to disrespect and threaten you in front of him? 
You shake your head at the man. "Now you've really got a problem." You mock and Jake slowly turns around. The two men are about the same size, though Jake is clearly more muscular. Not that it matters, Jake would lay a 10-foot giant out on their ass for talking to you like that. 
The only thing scarier than a loud angry Jake is a calm angry Jake. Every word and movement is precise and calculated. He stares the man down for a second before speaking slowly. 
"Apologize." He isn't asking, he's telling. "For what?" The man laughs and Jake feels his blood boil. 
"For touching my wife without her permission and then threatening to hurt her. And for swearing at a lady. Where I'm from those are justified grounds for murder." His voice is low and it sends shivers up your spine. 
"And if I don't?" The man scoffs and Jake takes another step forward, now fully in the stranger's personal space. "Then I'll make you." He cracks his neck and pops his wrists and elbows. That should've been this asshole's sign to walk away.
By now you've noticed a crowd forming and the rest of the dagger squad are making their way over. You see two men heading your way and can immediately tell they're this dick's backup. 
You reach forward and press a hand gently to his shoulder. "Jake." You try to get his attention but he doesn't take his eyes off his target. "I see them. I'm not worried about it." He knows he's got his own backup, and they outnumber the three men twofold.
You shake your head. "No, I know. It's Penny I'm worried about if you start a brawl in her bar." You feel Rooster and Maverick's presence and they push you behind them protectively. Phoenix interlocks her arm with yours and pulls you back further so neither of you are in the line of fire. 
The three men take in their opponents and weigh their options. After a couple minutes, the one that started it looks at you. "You're lucky you have backup, bitch."
Not even a second passes before you hear a loud crack followed by a thud. Your eyes widen at the heap laying on the ground. Jake threw a right hook from hell and the man was out before his body could catch up. You're no doctor, but you'd guess his jaw is broken. 
Jake doesn't even flinch at the impact, instead turning to the two remaining men. He doesn't bother to move back or put his hands up to block any attacks. Your body tingles when you realize it's because he's so confident that he doesn't even feel the need to play defense.
"Anyone else?" He smirks and the men quickly shake their heads and grab their friend to drag him out. Once the three of them are gone, the bar erupts in cheers. 
Jake turns to face you and you jump up in his arms with a squeal. He laughs and you start attacking his face with kisses. You pull back after a few seconds and he smiles brightly at you. 
Your eyes are filled with worry and you cup both of his cheeks. "Are you okay?"
Jake's heart swells at your concern for him and he gives you a sweet kiss. "Just fine, sweet cheeks. I've been boxing in the gym since you like to run your mouth so much." He smirks.
Your mouth drops open and you stare at him in disbelief. "You've been training to protect me?" He laughs at your reaction and slides his hands down to your ass. 
"I'd do anything to protect you. Sooner or later you're going to piss off the wrong person and I need to be sure I can beat the shit out of them." He shrugs. 
"Well aren't you my knight in shining armor?" You tease and Jake shakes his head. "More like knight in a flight suit." He smirks before continuing. 
"Seriously though, you don't need a knight to save you. You're a badass in your own right. But I wouldn't be a good husband if I let you fight your battles alone."
You smile at the sentiment and lean in for another kiss. "I love you. Thank you." He shrugs again and kisses you on your cheek. "I love you too sweets. You don't need to thank me, it's my pleasure." 
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@drakelover78
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neontya · 6 months
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shopping with zb1!
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pairings: non idol!ot9 zb1 x gn!reader tags/warnings: fluff, domesticity, cursing, bulletpoint form, established relationships (platonic for yujin's), mentions of food. notes: requested!!! a first try at this kind of format for writing kinda nervous...... but it was fun to do <33 a few of them aren't very sticking to the concept and i hope that's alright!! thank you for the one who sent this request!! do enjoy :D
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kim jiwoong + cafe hopping.
i just can't get the thought of going around the city with jiwoong to try out lil cafes
this thought stems from those predebut/actor jiwoong pics of him in cafes..... imagine taking those photos of him and having a whole album of jiwoong giving you the brightest smile ever as he sits in front of you, drink in hand
he'd definitely send you insta posts of newly opened cafes around your area and say "let's go here next time."
might even spam you with the pics they take of their food and he'd be like "babe look!!!! they have your favorite dessert!!!!"
and you'll instantly be sold bc jiwoong is so genuinely excited to share everything with you and spend time together
he strikes me as someone who would always remember your go-to orders
and if it's not on the menu, he'd still guess what you'd like to have and he'd be 100% correct.
"they don't have your favorite coffee. do you want the fruit flavored sparkling water instead?" "... how did you know."
will spoon feed you, there's no room for you to argue or refuse if you think it's embarrassing. this man Will spoil you because you're his baby so he'll treat you like one!!!!!
will also be extra cheesy and lean closer to you if you have something on the edge of your lips, licking it away before blinking at you like nothing happened even when you're planning his demise with cheeks as red as tomatoes
yet he'd probably be the type to smile shyly and giggle like an idiot if you try his drink with the same straw as if you've never kissed before
dw he's just a silly lil guy <3
more utc!
sung hanbin + domestic grocery shopping.
anything related to this man is always domestic to me. he's just so husband material
and i can imagine him bringing you out for grocery shopping
your runs to the grocery shops with him will vary. usually it would be the planned runs during sunday mornings where there's a proper list of what's missing or what needs to be restocked in your shared apartment
hanbin would be in charge of the list, trust that this man would be up at the crack ass of dawn to rummage through your kitchen and jot down what needs to be bought.
will Always double check for anything missing before paying
one time he forgot to put something in the cart but still made you queue up to pay while he sprints to get what he was missing
you have your own money, sure, but hanbin would rather go bald than make you pay for everything. so you just stood there nervously while waiting for him to come back so he can pay
yk that thing moms do where they just leave you alone at the counter while they go take smtg they forgot? same situation. hanbin never beating the mother allegations
sometimes, he would drag you out with him in your pyjamas to the nearest convenience store to get some milk or something and you can't help but rethink your life decisions when you're pushing the cart behind hanbin with half of your consciousness still in bed
"get up we ran out of milk."
"....? hanbin it's 2am."
"yeah and we ran out of milk. how will i make your latte later in the morning without milk?"
he's lucky you're utterly in love with him because there is no way in hell you'd get up from bed just to go out and buy milk for any other person
and hanbin knows he's lucky to have you <3
zhang hao + plushie hunting.
my babygirl my everything my wife my husband my bf
i'm so normal about him actually (im not)
okay back to business!!!! zhang hao strikes me as someone to bring out his lover to the mall without any specific plans, just going out for the sake of spending time with each other
he thinks it's a lot more fun that way. without being tied to any plans, he can try Everything with you.
wanna go get an overpriced yet mediocre tasting drink? he'll pay! oh, you wanna stop at the phone shop to look for a new casing? he thinks this one is cute! what's that? you wanna play at the arcade? he'll beat your ass at every game!!!
the two of you will be that one cheesy pda couple with matching clothes, always holding each other's hands while taking your sweet time walking around the mall
even without specific plans, there's always one thing that stays the same whenever you go out with zhang hao.
you're always bringing back a plushie one way or another
it's just!!! sometimes you think it's some kind of tradition.
the first time it happened, zhang hao won a little red panda plushie for you at the claw machine during your first date and its been living rent free on your bed ever since then. (if you recognize where i got this from then you deserve a cookie)
during your second date, which happened to be on your birthday, zhang hao gifted you a gigantic teddy bear that's almost as big as you.
it kept happening during every date, where hao would either give you a plushie or you'd end up buying one for yourself. either way, you're Always coming back with an adorable stuffed toy
since it happens so often, you think you have nearly every plushie that's being sold within the shops inside the mall. when you mention this to your boyfriend, he's suddenly making it today's mission to find a plushie that you Don't have so he can buy it for you
"bao bei, look at this one!! it's so cute."
"i have that one, hao hao. you gave it to me during our anniversary."
"aw.. then, what about this one? it's cute too!!"
"i bought that already, since it reminded me of you."
and it's a plushie of a raccoon dressed in suit and tie. you think it looks like zhang hao during his first formal violin performance.
the two of you spend the whole entire day walking around the mall and visiting every shop that has plushies. you manage to find a few that you haven't owned yet, and zhang hao has the bright idea to buy another one for himself.
"so i can have more stuff in my room that reminds me of you. i can cuddle them when i miss you, too."
you swear you were about to burst into tears in the middle of daiso
at the end of the day, you're both carrying big bags filled with plushies <3 he comes over to your place to help you organize your plushie collection, and even helps you give names to the ones you had just bought.
sometimes he goes over the top and gives them full in depth lore
you don't understand why your miffy plushie is suddenly the reason global warming is worsening, but seeing zhang hao giggle to himself as he talks about your plushies is immensely endearing.
kim taerae + music/record shops.
we all know this man takes his music interests very seriously
since you're his lover, you're obligated to share his interests as well, if you don't already. it's not that hard tbh, if anything it's weirdly easy to get into music as much as taerae is.
he speaks of it so highly and so lovingly, it's a natural occurring event to fall in love with him all over again as you watch him play his guitar while he serenades you.
every now and then, taerae would bring you out to his favorite record shop. he's an old soul, deciding to bask in the nostalgic melodies of older blues instead of the newer music. it's one of the things that you've always loved about him
he would guide you over all of his favorites, picking out certain records to tell you which song within the setlist reminds him of you. he lets you choose which record for him to bring home, even when he wants to buy another one - but taerae enjoys being reminded of you every time he lets the record you picked sing into the comfort of his house.
"this is the song i sang for you during our first anniversary, remember?"
you smile at him, partially because you're a little shy over his words, but it's mostly because you think it's funny for him to assume that you Don't remember. you think you have the image of him singing to you under the moonlight burned into your brain at this point.
on other days, taerae would bring you to a music shop complete with multiple instruments. he initially came to look for a new guitar pick, or maybe even a new bag since his is starting to fade in color, but he ends up asking to play one of the pretty acoustic guitars on display.
you watch silently as he strums the guitar, striking up a conversation with the shop owner about techniques and whatnot, and the shine in his eyes as he talks about it all melts your heart.
he'd gesture for you to come over, dimple popping on his cheek, letting you sit down on his previous seat as he gets up before placing the guitar into your hands.
"try it out, love. put your fingers here, and your other hand goes here..."
taerae is always so patient with you, showing you how to strum a proper chord and he'd be so happy when you manage to do it :((
"there you go!! i knew you could do it."
the shop owner is looking at the two of you with a gentle smile, he thinks the two of you are just so adorable (he's so right actually)
taerae would ask you if you like the guitar you just played, and when you say yes, he doesn't hesitate to buy it even when he already has one at home.
"think of it as a gift from me to you. i'll teach you more when we get home."
he ends up teaching you the song he played for your first anniversary, since it's your self-proclaimed couple song
i love him sm (muffled screaming)
seok matthew + looking for baking ingredients.
being matthew's significant other means there's never a dull moment when you're together, and you wouldn't have it any other way
you two were hanging out at your place, limbs tangled underneath warm blankets as he cuddles you to his chest while you watch some show on tv
all of the sudden, your stomach starts growling.
matthew asks what do you want after you told him you're hungry, and you end up saying that you're craving for pancakes
your boyfriend isn't the kind of person that needs to be told something twice, so he sprang to action to bring you out to the nearest mart to gather the necessary ingredients to make pancakes together
he's a firm believer that love makes everything better, and baking pancakes together instead of just buying some at a cafe is a much more appealing idea to him.
he had always wanted to bake something with you anyway, so he sees this as a win-win situation
so there you two are, stuck in the ingredients isle as you try to figure out how the hell you're supposed to make pancakes out of scratch.
when you ask matthew if he just wants to buy the instant mix, he decides against it. says it's not as fun nor romantic to make instant pancakes
"do we need eggs?"
"of course we need eggs, matts."
"okay, what about milk? does the kind matter? should i get low fat or full cream? or like... almond milk?"
you two end up buying so much more than necessary, but hey, it's better to be safe than sorry.
the pancakes ended up amazing though, even when you're both covered in flour from messing around with each other.
matthew has made his fair share of cooking and baking before, but with you? he thinks everything immediately tastes better with you around.
shen ricky + clothes/jewelry shopping.
we all saw this coming
quick everyone act surprised
i think it's a silent rule that everyone knows ricky is the type to spoil his lover so much with gifts and other expensive things
i mean it's mr young and rich amirite.... but i like to think that ricky just loves to see the sparkle in your eyes whenever you see something that you like, and he'll be more than happy to see you smile at him when he lets you buy it (with his card ofc)
bro is the epitome of gift giving and quality time bc you're going to have to pry the idea of ricky constantly bringing you out with the promise to go shopping but he actually just wants to be with you out of my cold dead HANDS
𝓻𝓲𝓬𝓴𝔂 to everyone else but lovelicky to you. i will die on this hill
will hold your hand and swing them a little as he brings you around the mall, letting you choose when and where to stop. it's like he's your portable bank (ofc he's more than that to you but ykwim)
you love ricky, it's obvious, but you think he's not very helpful when it comes to choosing a piece of clothing to buy.
you've tried out a few and you've shown ricky all of them, hoping for an input from him on which one suits you the best, but he just... doesn't really give anything.
because he always just compliments you in EVERYTHING. i mean!!! you think it's super cute and all and it makes your heart do flips but you can't choose if ricky says you look great in absolutely anything.
"what about this one?"
"you look so good in that, darling. the color suits you so well."
"okay... this one?"
"gosh, you're killing me. you look amazing, the silk truly brings out your shape so nicely."
"ricky, you're really not helping."
who are you to blame him? ricky thinks you're the most beautiful person ever, he can't choose which one is the best either :((
so you end up buying everything. it doesn't make the smallest dent in his wallet anyway
if we're talking jewelry, he will 100% buy matching sets. earrings? matching. bracelets? matching. necklaces? matching chain and the pendants are each other's birthstones.
he already bought matching promise rings during your first anniversary, ones that neither of you ever take off. you did once, but only because you didn't want it to get dirty and you were going to put it back on in a bit, and ricky already had tears in his eyes when he confronted you about it.
extra thought. since his mother has a clothing brand, trust that she will send you and ricky clothes sometimes to try them out before they're launched <3 if you both think they're great, mama shen will have them in every outlet in no time. might even ask ricky to bring you over to china one day so you can help design some of the clothes or model for a collection, whatever you'd like! she's already looking forward to naming her grandchildren. i don't make the rules.
kim gyuvin + pet stores.
other than his family, friends and you, everyone knows that the other thing that kim gyuvin loves with his whole heart is his dog
you think you've seen eumppappa more times than you've seen his siblings
sometimes you feel threatened by the dog. and she's a Dog.
but you can't exactly refuse gyuvin's offer to have you accompany him to different pet shops around the city to find the specific brand of dog food that eumppappa likes
"the shop i always go to ran out, and i need to find another shop that sells it."
"why don't you buy another brand?"
"eumppappa doesn't like other brands!!! she says it doesn't taste as good."
apprently, your boyfriend speaks dog. another reason to love him, you guess
you'd usually run out of social battery fairly quick, especially since you're travelling on foot around seoul in search for pet shops
but gyuvin, cheery and bubbly as always, always manages to keep you at full energy. especially when he excitedly tugs on your sleeve whenever he spots a pet shop by the end of the streets, dragging you along with him to bring you over
some people would think gyuvin's energy is hard to keep up with, but you think the exact opposite. his laughs and smiles always keep you on your feet, and you can practically feel his energy leaking out and seep into you as you listen to him babble about his week while you walk along the isles of the pet shop
he'd never finish his stories though, he'd always get distracted by the animals on display
"and ricky was like i'm just naturally good looking, and then gunwook was like that doesn't explain why you have to keep rizzing up the cameras- babe look!!!!! it's you!!!!!"
and you look over and it's a baby bunny in the cage
"gyub that's a bunny."
"exactly, it's you! so cute and fluffy."
the two of you spend a good hour staring at the bunnies inside the cage, but you had to drag him away soon enough because he started talking about adopting it together.
"pleeease? i'll let you choose the name! i'll buy whatever it needs, i promise!"
"we can't afford a bunny right now, gyub. they poop a lot and i already can't handle cleaning eumppappa's shit off the floor."
"hey, i'm still trying to potty train her..."
gyuvin finally finds the brand of dog food he's been looking for all day and he almost buys the whole stock out.
once you arrive at his home, you watch him feed eumppappa with a fond smile on your face as he babytalks to her. you never thought that dog was crazy cute, but seeing gyuvin coddle her is the most adorable thing ever
his attention goes to you after eumppappa is done eating, bringing you over to the couch with him to cuddle you in his arms.
"now it's time to pay attention to my other puppy."
"i thought i was a bunny?"
"you're my everything."
"you're gross, gyub."
park gunwook + bookstores.
despite his scary looks, your gunwook is actually a big bookworm. it's a fact about him that you truly love, since it's tied to how you first met him. both of you were reaching for the same book at the school library, hands almost touching, and it ended up in him letting you borrow the book first only if you give him your number.
the first time you went to visit gunwook's house after dating for a while, you weren't surprised at the amount of books he had neatly lined up in his room.
he goes through them pretty quickly, the most he'd spend on one book being one week. since he reads fast, you have to constantly accompany him to your local bookstore to look for any new books that he hasn't read yet.
when it's just the two of you within the isle, he'd bring you to sit down on the floor with him as he tells you about the book that he's holding.
"this one is called the little prince, i read it a while ago and it's my new favorite."
he tells you about the life lessons within each story, the symbolism of each character and the arcs they go through, and you're inevitably falling in love all over again.
you feel bad for not paying attention to whatever he's saying, but you can't help it since you're so focused on watching the edges of his lips curl into that adorable smile of his as he continues to ramble about his books.
you two would spend hours in each isle of the bookstore just talking about the books you've both read. he would listen to you attentively, smiling brightly as he watches you explain the plot of the book with a shine in his eyes that's only reserved for you.
once you both finally decide on which book to buy, you end up reading them immediately at home.
it's your favorite past time. sitting on gunwook's lap with your back pressed against his chest, feeling him breathe evenly as you both silently read the book he's holding. a gently tap on his arm by you indicates that you're done with the page, and only then does he flip it to the next one.
you think you wouldn't trade these kinds of moment with the world.
han yujin + stationary restock.
this is just so cute to me idk yujin is my child and i love him sm
let's say you two are classmates and yujin has been bugging you so much to borrow your pens, pencils, erasers, literally Everything
sometimes he doesn't even return them to you and your own pens start to decrease in number by each passing week
until you're down to your last pen. yujin still had the audacity to use his cuteness on you to ask for the pen so he can do the homework that was supposed to be done yesterday
enough was enough so you dragged him out with you right after school, still in your uniforms, to buy more stationary
let's just say you two end up spending hours in the shop, just doodling on the lil pieces of paper provided to test out the pens on display
yujin would be so giggly as he's sketching up two little cats, and he labels them with your names.
"look, i drew us. the smaller one is you."
you reciprocate by drawing another two cats as well, only this time the smaller one (that is supposedly you) is scratching the other cat's face
"this is going to be us if you keep stealing my pens after this."
needless to say yujin would just pout at you
he makes up an excuse by saying that your pens are better than his, easier to write with and the ink dries faster and whatnot... but to be truthful, he's just finding ways to talk to you more
he keeps the pens that he borrowed once they run out of ink, and he doesn't even think about throwing them away Ever
but he won't tell you, obviously!!! it's his secret
the two of you exit the shop soon enough, hands carrying plastic bags with all the stationary you both need for the rest of the year.
did you think han yujin would finally leave you alone and stop borrowing your stuff????
Fool. He Will Not Stop.
"hey, can i borrow another pen? mine ran out of ink."
"... didn't you buy them like last week?"
"... yeah, and? i ran out of ink. lemme have yours."
you sigh and give yujin your pen, fully aware that this would be the last time you'll ever see that specific pen ever again.
but seeing yujin smile brightly at you as he takes the pen from your hands, you think losing a few pens to him isn't so bad.
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thank you for reading! <3 taglist: @knrejj @dead-isshh @missuszabini
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the-kr8tor · 1 month
Note
hihi!! I hope you're having a great day and a new year!
I have a small fic request (u can take it any other forms u want, all up to you!) Can I request a fic where reader asked Hobie if he would rather elope instead of a normal wedding? Since he doesn't like the idea of getting marriage (My hc by the way). Eloping is still kinda like a wedding but just the two of them! No loud music, not alot of money spent etc etc! U can write on how they would do it!
(also I'd like to imagine this is them getting 'enganged' before having the twins HEEHHEHEHE) (i hope this isn't too much) (i would love to see on how you'd write this!!)
reader can be gn or FEM btw :)
Thank you for the adorable request 😘
Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Brown/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader
Word count: 1.5k
Tags: No use Y/N, no specific description of the reader (r is mentioned wearing makeup though), lovestruck Hobie, FLUFF.
ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ
Hobie watches you sing with the band that's currently playing further away on stage. He dragged you out behind all the crowd so you could properly enjoy the concert without getting elbowed by someone. He doesn't mind standing that far from the stage since he gets to see you dance unabashedly when there aren't a lot of people this far back.
The music isn't that loud from where you're both standing, helping Hobie hear your singing, providing a front row seat to your very own concert. He thinks you deserve top billing from how you belt out the lyrics.
The strobe lights illuminate your face, lighting up your best features, add it up with the moonlight shining directly at you like your very own spotlight, he can't get his eyes off you, lips softly smiling, fondness seeping out from his pores.
You feel his stare before you feel his featherlight touch atop your arm, knuckles brushing on your skin, goosebumps spreading through them like fire.
Grinning at him, you wipe sweat off your brow, guessing the summer heat has probably melted all of your makeup, thinking that you look worse for wear.
“Yeah, Hobs?” He once hated that nickname but with you saying it, it might as well be his given name. He loves it if it's you who says it.
Hobie has never seen you look so beautiful even with your mascara running down your cheeks. He's seen you at your worst, loved you more through it, and will continue to love you through your best too.
He loops his pinky around yours, clammy hands meeting equally clammy skin. He blames the weather for the lack of physical affection, if it weren't for the heat he'd be embracing you like a boa constrictor, taking your breath away without devouring you for dinner of course.
“You okay? You look like you're about to pass out. Do you want to sit down for a minute?”
His next words shocks you both.
“I have no idea where we go from here.”
“What?” You chuckle nervously. Maybe you should've worn waterproof mascara. “What are you saying, Hobie?” You forgo his pinky, opting to hold both his hands instead.
Your frown tells him he should've thought this through.
“Sorry,” he laughs shakily, none of the usual Hobie charisma you're used to. “I meant, fuck this is hard.” he's sweating, why did he decide to wear leather vest and heavy boots in this heat? He blames the weather for his shortcomings.
Your heart falls in your stomach. “Are you…are you breaking up with me?” words barely strung together with your tongue tied up.
“What? No!” Hobie backtracks in a split second. “No, love, that's not what I meant.” shaking his head, he removes his hands from yours, deepening your frown.
In an attempt to fix his blunder, he cups your face, thumbs rubbing just under your eyes, spreading the dark ink all over your skin. He definitely needed to think it all through.
Tears start rolling down your cheeks, mascara running with the wetness, turning you into one of the heavy metal band mates that played a couple hours ago.
“Shit!” He roams his face around the concert hall, not knowing how to fix the situation.
“What did you really mean, Hobie?” You sob, balling his shirt in your hands tightly.
Hobie inhales and exhales, collecting his thoughts properly. “We're living together.”
“Uh huh.” You nod, confused.
“We clearly love each other.”
“You're just stating the obvious.” you pause your weeping when he groans in frustration. “What is happening?”
“I–” his next words surprises you more than him. “I wanna fuckin' marry you, love.”
You blink rapidly, tilting your head, utterly flabbergasted. “Huh?”
“That's what I meant with ‘I have no idea where we go from here.’” he sighs, facepalming, pursing his lips. “I want to take another step forward with you, but fuckin' hell I hate the bloody pomp and circumstance of it all.” A smile spreads across your face with every word he says.
Did he just ask for your hand in marriage?
“At the same time I don't think we have to marry just so people would know how committed we are to each other.” He's rambling and you smile wider through mascara filled tears. “Not to mention the fuckin' government knowing about all of it, seriously, why can't they just mind their own business about—”
“Hobs,” it's your turn to hold his face, he stops speaking, his chest heaving, eyes glued to you. “Let's elope then.” Hobie mentally conks himself right on the head for not thinking that. “just us, no two hundred guests, no thousands of pounds needed for the ceremony, no stuffy officiant. Just us and our vows.”
Hobie laughs at himself before he places his head on your shoulder, he can't believe he just asked you to spend the rest of your life with him.
Nosing your neck, he embraces you fully, swinging you slightly to the music that's definitely not for slow dancing. Holding on to him, you kiss his hairline, tracing it with your lips.
While Hobie recuperates from his blunder, you on the other hand feel like you're about to burst out of the seams, flooding the entire venue with your love for the man before you.
After the song ends and they announce the new act, with the roar of the crowd Hobie has one last thing to add.
“Let's do it now.” Hobie lifts his head, facing you in all your glory, heart shaped eyes staring at him affectionately, face aglow with so much love that Hobie can feel it flowing directly to his chest. “Let's elope right now, say our vows, we don't need an officiant to declare us married when the band corroded coffin works just as fine.”
“With a few hundred witnesses and a cover band as our wedding singers?” You loop your arms around his neck, linking your fingers together just to hold him closer. Nodding, you can't help but giggle. “Sure, let's do it right now.”
“You first.” Hobie thinks he chose right.
“Nu-huh, you asked, you go first.”
With a joking huff and a thumping heart, he eggs you on.
“I think the bride goes first.”
“Yeah? You've been to a ton of weddings?”
He laughs, the sound is better than the band playing in the background. And in that musky concert hall, underneath the stars and strobe lights, you do your vows.
“Okay, I'll go first.” You clear your throat, hands shaking not from nerves but from excitement. “I vow to always mend your wounds when you get home.” He smiles, eyes shining with unshed happy tears. “But I can't promise that I won't complain and nag you the entire time.”
Chuckling, you continue. “I vow to always be understanding, and to love you until I'm six feet under ground and even then I'd continue to love the shit out of you, Hobart Larry Brown. Even love your government name.”
Hobie can't help in anymore so he leans in but you stop him with your hand shielding your lips.
“You're horrible.” His words lack venom, all love and endearment pointed at you.
“I just vowed to love you unconditionally and you call me horrible?” Your words are muffled that he barely understood it. Yet he still pecks the top of your hand, to satisfy his need to kiss you. “You're not allowed to kiss me, not until we finish our vows.”
He rolls his eyes comically and you laugh. Your lips hurt from all the smiling.
Face hot, (not from the weather) you wipe his cheek free from sweat, leaving your hand to grasp his face. You hope it's enough to convey how utterly in love you are with him.
“My turn?”
“Mm-hmm”
Hobie inhales, he has fought a bunch of villains who wanted to end him but asking you if you want to marry him has him more terrified than facing green goblin. He's exhausted just from that. But he's more than ready to do this, to make his vows. It's only you isn't it? The love of his life who's currently staring at him warmly.
He's glad you agreed to elope, he can't imagine doing this in front of a hundred guests.
“I vow to always come home even when I'm beat up and bloodied. I'll crawl just to get to you.”
If your makeup wasn't ruined before it's properly ruined now with how much tears you're letting out. A few people look at you two weirdly.
“I vow to make time for you, I'd sacrifice sleep if you ask me.” He whispers the next line. “I'm serious. That's how much I love you.”
You laugh through the tears, gripping his collar, it might look like you're about to beat him up but you're actually holding back from snogging the shit out him.
“I promise to love you as long as you let me.” Hobie takes one of his rings off his finger, a favourite of his, a promise to you. The word wife slips his tongue and it has you almost fainting.
That got you and now you're sobbing your heart out. But after a beat, he lifts your face by your chin to let him look at you, he's right, he chose the right one.
“How does forever sound?” you manage to let out, lips still wobbly.
“Perfect. Forever sounds bloody perfect.” He leans once again, this time you don't stop him.
“You may kiss the sweaty bride.” You laugh and you kiss your husband.
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writingstoraes · 1 year
Text
hair tie 🎀
pairing: charles leclerc/fem!reader
type: imagine/drabble (fluff)
notes: my first drabble! not proofread and not revised so please expect errors hehehe please lmk what u think by replying or messaging and if u wanna be part of my taglist! <3 google translated french!
about: you didn't pay no mind when charles randomly asked for one of your hair ties. one car ride later, you find out why.
"Amour, can I have one of your hair ties please?" Charles softly says, gently shaking you awake from your slumber. Due to your half-asleep state, you didn't bother to question him why and quickly pointed to the dresser, where a thin, black hair tie is found on its surface.
"As-tu quelque chose d'autre? Quelque chose qui en un regard, je sais que c'est le tien," Do you have anything else? Something that in one look, I know it's yours.
Prying your eyes open once again, you decide to position yourself to sit on the bed to give Charles a knowing look.
"What do you mean? Do you want a scrunchie?"
"What's that?"
"The thick one that looks like ruffles."
"Oh no." He replies, rifling through your dresser drawers. "Maybe something a little less high profile."
Before you can mutter anything, the Monegasquè exclaims as he finds something he liked after absolutely destroying the organized drawers: a red hair tie with a small black ribbon.
Clearly with a motive on his mind, Charles quickly picks up the hair tie and proceeds outside to his car. You didn't pay it any mind, you had a lot of hair ties anyway, most of it scattered around the room and even in your purses. You just assumed he used it to tie something; used it like it was a rubber band.
You and Charles made plans to visit his family today which can explain why he was up and about getting ready for the drive. The drive up to his family home is about two hours and it has been a habit of his to prep the car every time you had to go somewhere. While he was in the garage, you got up and made breakfast, all the food on the table in pairs of two's.
As you sit through breakfast, you already had enough caffeine in your system to be sober for the morning, not that you were drunk, just sleepy. Being in the right state of mind, you give in to curiosity and ask him why he needed a hair tie in the first place, up to why he needed to choose one he liked.
"Ce n'est rien," It's nothing.
You didn't pry anymore, it was just a hair tie after all. If you know him well, he probably did use it to tie something or replace something he broke while fixing the car. After breakfast, the two of you went on like clockwork to get ready for the drive up to his family's house. Being all dressed up and ready, Charles opens the passenger seat door for you and you were off.
Halfway through the drive and several songs sang in the car later, your eyes dart towards a very familiar hair tie. The red hair tie with a black ribbon was wrapped around the car's gear shifter, much to your surprise when you thought he only used it to tie something or mend something he'd clumsily broke.
"Ah, so this is where you used my hair tie," you tell Charles, who returned a sheepish smile.
"You are cute in your own ways, do you know that?" you stifle a giggle, waiting for him to respond. "Can I ask why is that there?"
"Why? Do you want it back? I'm sorry, I have my reason I promise." He replies, voice laced with guilt.
"No, baby I just... want to know what it's for."
You were fine with not knowing actually. You're sure Charles had his reasons. Maybe he liked the ribbon or the red reminded him of Ferrari. Maybe he thought his spectacular sports car was so manly it needed a splash of ribbon. The thing is, Charles has his antics, something you've grown to love over the years. In your eyes, this hair tie situation is mundane to say the least.
"Fine but you have to promise you won't laugh." Charles says, eyes kept strictly on the road.
"Je promets." I promise.
"It's a reminder." He says in a low and soft voice.
"I put it there to remind myself that I have to drive safe because you're waiting for me at home," Charles continues, and you swear you could just melt right there. "Okay I know it sounds cheesy and sappy and that an F1 driver knows how to drive safe but it's a nice reminder."
"Charles, you drive cars at 300 km/h," you laugh, gaining a chuckle from him.
"I know. It's just a good reminder to be extra safe every time I'm in a car because there's someone waiting for me at home. It's for when I lose my cool on the road so I can be reminded to stay calm and avoid road rage. It's for when I drive cars at the speed of light but I take my cautions because I look forward to seeing you, always."
"Je veux toujours être en sécurité pour que tu ne t'inquiètes pas pour moi," I want to always be safe so you don't worry about me.
Charles pauses and turns to look at you, quite lovingly, spending the 30 seconds of the red light awaiting your response. It is safe to say you were out of words, because you never knew a gesture as simple as this could make your heart swell ten times its size. All because of a hair tie.
"I love you so so so much, you hair tie stealer." you smile as his free hand trails up your thigh to capture your hand as he kisses the back of it. "But for what it's worth, I will always worry about you."
"That I know. But treat the hair tie as an immunity charm."
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tagging: @slytherheign <333 hope u r doing well mwah
notes: my first imagine (written)! im still working on writing dialogues cause its the part i find the hardest :// lmk what u think! will be posting ig imagines tomorrow hehe that or a very angsty charles imagine based on midnight rain by taylor 🫠
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yanderes-galore · 5 months
Note
Darling escaped Wesker and is hiding from him, being constantly paranoid and all. She takes a hike and gets captured by the Las Plagas cult but before they can do anything Wesker arrives (because he was conveniently around, watching Ada). How would the reunion be like? - 🐈 anon
I was confused at first but found out you meant the Separate Ways DLC. Here you go! Did a concept as not specified.
Edit: I only just saw this was meant to be a female darling I'm so sorry, but I hope you like it despite my mistake- 💀 The only gender related thing is in one thing Wesker said anyways-
Yandere! Wesker "saving" Kidnapped! Darling
(RE4: Separate Ways)
Pairing: Romantic
Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Kidnapping, Possessive behavior, Stalking, Violence, Thoughts of murder mentioned, Forced relationship.
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The whole scenario just sounds unfortunate for you.
From one bad situation to another.
Then potentially back to the first one.
Escaping Wesker is a feat within itself.
He usually always has an eye on you although he isn't as deadly as he is in RE5.
He may even be impressed that you managed to slip by, if not annoyed.
Not only is escaping a feat but hiding from him is also an achievement.
So to stay away from Wesker's sight you hide in the woods.
For awhile you learn to survive.
You take hikes to stay in shape and find food as you go.
You yearn for your old life... the one before Wesker.
Hikes have been the only way you were able to cope.
At least... that was until you encountered Los Illuminados.
The reason for taking you in could be for any number of things.
However the most likely reason would be for experimentation.
Injecting people with Las Plagas makes the cult grow.
It just so happens you were a vulnerable target.
They most likely had no idea who you were (unwillingly) connected to.
As a result you are chased and dragged to a cell for later use.
Around this time Wesker would've sent Ada to look for the amber he needs for his virus.
He may have even asked her to find you if she was able to.
Wesker is no doubt searching for you ever since you managed to leave his gaze.
He'll admit it's felt... odd to not have you around.
He doesn't like the feeling of being unable to hold you, feel your warmth, or breathe your scent.
As a result he's been on edge.
Not only must he make his virus but he also needs to have you by his side again.
Imagine his surprise (and anger) when he sees footage of you being carried away through Ada's lenses.
Wesker knows if they hurt you he's going to gut them all.
Plans have changed. He orders Ada to keep an eye on you while looking for the amber.
He's finally found you again... and he plans on retrieving you along with the amber.
As a result you end up meeting Ada.
You have no idea she's working with Wesker or why she's here.
All you know is once she sneaks into the prison and stands in front of your cell, you're saved.
Wesker most likely didn't say why you were so important.
He doesn't need Ada to know your past.
You and him have had history, romantic history in his eyes, and he'd just about blow up this entire island to have you.
If Wesker really can see footage through Ada's cameras then he watches the screen intently.
You look so dirty, malnourished, and unkempt.
He can fix that once you're back in his arms.
He wonders as he watches you if he should be punished.
However, the fact you were kidnapped by the cult seems punishment enough.
It only proves the reason he took you in to begin with.
You're weak without him... you need him in order to be stronger.
Surely you'll learn such a lesson by the time he comes to pick you up.
The moment Wesker comes onto the island, he calls Ada and demands she brings you to him.
Until then he watches the island to catch sight of you.
He's been patient with you... but you have to come back with him now.
Right where you belong.
It's a sad sight to see.
You trusted Ada to save your life, what does she do in return?
She brings you right back to Wesker.
The moment your eyes land on the blonde haired man, you try to go the other way.
You shake your head but Ada nudges you in front of her.
"You've managed to retrieve them, but what of the amber?" Wesker asks Ada before beckoning you closer.
There's silence between you as Ada explains she still needs to find the item.
You feel betrayed as Wesker sends her away before turning to you.
"I applaud you for making it this long. But you must know you weren't going to last long."
You're roughly dragged into Wesker's chest as he checks you over.
He's checking for scratches and signs of any parasite you could've been infected with.
If you were hurt his mind is set.
"For now... you're punished enough." Wesker tells you, but he doesn't let go. "But I'm not done here."
"You're going to take me back..." You whisper, defeated.
"This is only proof that you can't survive without me. You got yourself captured by someone else." Wesker frowns, annoyed.
"They won't leave this place alive. None of them will."
You stay silent, feeling Wesker stroke your head before kissing the top of it.
He hasn't been able to feel you in so long.
He feels you struggle a bit but he doesn't care.
All that matter is he has you again.
He'll make sure you're brought back onto his boat and watched.
You're coming back with him.
Meanwhile, he'll make sure there's nothing left of the cult that took you after he's obtained the amber.
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idyllic-affections · 10 months
Note
So I JUST got this idea after reading your mist recent adoptive dad!Kaveh piece and now it WILL NOT leave my mind. You emphasized on how his child's emotions are his emotions and how he's much more empathetic when it comes to them. So naturally, as a connoisseur of all things angst, I keep thinking how Kaveh will handle it when his child has their first heartbreak! Being so emotional himself will he be able to hold up or will he cry with them? and I wonder what the rest of them will do, there's just so many possibilities
how is [name]'s first heartbreak handled?
summary. how does [name]'s platonic co-parenting family respond to their first breakup?
trigger & content warnings. gaslighting, tough breakups, abusive behavior, lots of tears, & medical malpractice (briefly and pretty non-seriously).
tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. hurt/comfort. tighnari & reader, alhtiaham & reader, adoptive dad!kaveh & reader, cyno & reader, collei & reader. 1k words. they/them pronouns for reader. this post is an expansion of what if kaveh adopted a child?
author's thoughts. THIS IS SO TASTY THANK YOU FOR SENDING THIS.... ive never been in this situation before nor do i really understand what heartbreak feels like so i just kind of went with the flow. focused mostly on what [name]'s lil family would do and how they'd all react. anyway keep sending me your adoptive dad!kaveh thoughts guys i love this kind of interaction haha &lt;3
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tighnari is furious. alhaitham is level-headed and logical as usual, but not indifferent. kaveh cries with them. cyno is livid. collei is calm, comforting.
kaveh is very sensitive to his kid's mood; i have indeed emphasized this already. he knows when something is wrong. he senses the shift in their mood almost instantly. depending on where they are, he may or may not be the first to know.
do they return to gandharva ville after they break up with their first love (for the sake of angst, let's say it's because the ex-lover in question sought to abuse and take advantage of their selflessness, but [name] was not having it, and they were gaslit upon pointing it out and ended up being called needy)? if so, tighnari will know first.
archons forbid their ex ever show up at gandharva ville for any kind of treatment. tighnari will treat them, yes, but he will make it hell. he will make it worse before making it better. medical malpractice? no, that's not what it is, silly. he's not even a licensed doctor! how can he commit malpractice if he doesn't practice medicine in the first place?
...
tighnari can think all he wants about doing such a thing, but he really wouldn't. he couldn't do something like that. he'd have a guilty conscience forever if he did. however, that does not mean he won't give [name]'s ex attitude. oh archons, he has all the attitude in the world to spare for the asshole who hurt his nibling (a/n: that's the gn term for niece or nephew).
[name] is not needy. sensitive and clingy at times, perhaps, but needy? tighnari scoffs at the idea. they're self-sufficient, if anything. the simple truth is that [name] likes affection because they were spoiled with it when they were little. the fact that their first love gaslit them in such a disgusting way makes the forest watcher's blood boil.
"[name]..." he'd sigh, heart squeezing painfully in his chest as he held them against his chest, unable to do much of anything except listen to the way they sobbed. tighnari's tail instinctively curled around their waist. "it really is not your fault. some people are just... horrible like that. ultimately, you deserve better, so this is for the best. it may not feel that way right now, but one day, it will."
do they return to kaveh and alhaitham's shared home instead? is kaveh home? if not, then alhaitham will know first. it isn't improbable. kaveh is often away on work trips, so it isn't hard to imagine that the akademiya's scribe would know first.
alhaitham hates seeing kaveh cry. he wishes he would stop expending himself to a harmful extent for the sake of others.
he also hates seeing [name] cry. why should they spend time crying over a manipulative asshole who had no capacity to understand them as a person? they shouldn't, and yet... they are.
like tighnari, alhaitham sighs. he's stroking their hair away from their face with one hand, stopping every now and then to gently pat their tears dry, even though his efforts are fruitless; they end up crying more regardless of how many times he dries their face. their head is laid in his lap. it's the least the scribe can do until kaveh gets home.
"[name], they're not worth your time. you were raised to be kind and emotionally articulate. it isn't your fault that they tried to take advantage of that."
he sighs again.
"i'm proud that you refused to let them manipulate you."
alhaitham's blatant, clearly-worded praise is rare. it soothes their soul a little.
if kaveh is home, however...
they will be sobbing in his arms within the hour. he always knows when something is wrong, and when something is wrong? he's there to support and console them. that is what any good father would do. kaveh's heart shatters on their behalf when they manage to choke out between tears that their love had so callously tried to abuse the kindness they offered to all those around them.
kaveh undoubtedly cries with them, holding their figure tightly against his.
"honey, it—" he chokes, aggressively wiping his face with one hand while the other remains secured around their waist. "it's not you, okay? it's not your fault. people, they— they like to try and take advantage of things they don't have. kind people don't take advantage of kindness. good people don't take advantage of goodness. you did well. you handled it well."
cyno will always be the last to know, regardless of what order everyone else finds out in.
cyno is also the most furious.
it's probably in [name]'s ex's best interest to flee the country. the wrath of general mahamatra cyno is an utterly horrifying thing to be the target of. he won't physically hurt them, no (although he would have to put all of his self control into practice in order to not knock all of the kid's teeth out...), but he will make it very clear that he does not want them anywhere near his nibling ever again unless it's to apologize, and even then... he had better not see them lingering too long.
the next time he sees kaveh and his kid, cyno plants a firm hand on [name]'s shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze, saying, "they won't bother you again."
a slight chill runs up their spine at that. "...what did you do to them..?"
"don't worry about it."
anyway congrats to [name]'s manipulative ex! they have made enemies with four of the most influential people in sumeru <3
(and as a little bonus treat:
collei, now in her late teens, is some kind of mix between tighnari, alhaitham, and kaveh. she's not mad. she's just disappointed, really; she loves [name] like a little sibling and just doesn't understand why anyone would knowingly hurt them. she knows very well that such cruel people do exist—she was the victim of one such person, after all—but... it's so hard for her to fathom. collei is very gentle and understanding in this situation, letting them cry on her shoulder for as long as they need to. once their tears have dried, she takes them out on patrol with her.
she makes them fresh pita pockets over a fire and spends the afternoon laughing and joking around with them to help them feel better. she'll even tell one of cyno's awful jokes if it will make them smile. <3)
adoptive dad!kaveh taglist: @kaoyamamegami. send a non-anonymous ask to be added. please consider reblogging, it helps me out quite a lot!
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luveline · 1 year
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ZOMBIE AU YES steve and you but reluctant allies - forced to travel together and when you get stuck in a tight spot, you fully believe he's going to leave you behind. but steve does what he does best, he comes back
tysm for ur request! reluctant friends to lovers arc starts now. tw for zombie typical gore, violence + apocalypse struggles (near enoigh starvation, weight loss, isolation) this got longer than it was meant to
It's not that you don't like Steve. Though maybe that's what he thinks. He doesn't seem to like you all that much.
Steve Harrington is pretty. He's a pretty boy. You hadn't expected him to be able to fight or defend, or even run all that fast. He'd proved you wrong on each account eventually — "I ran track, idiot," — but the reluctance of your pairing has remained.
You can't like everyone. You and Steve simply don't fit. You didn't in high school and you don't now, and you know in reality that he doesn't like you. Not really. He tolerates you and he shares with you because you have more chance of surviving together than apart.
He searches the waste of Indiana for his friends. You follow. You have nothing else to do.
You're scouring for supplies in a mall not unlike the Starcourt in Hawkins. You imagine it's as desolate and derelict as this one. Escalators frozen in time, storefronts destroyed by time. Dangerous. There's a thousand places for a zombie to be dwelling. They aren't good at hiding, obviously, but you're also not good at finding them. Steve says you have poor observational skills.
"Yes, well, I'd hardly have any reason to need them if it weren't for the end of the world," you mutter.
"Why do you talk like that?"
"Like what?" you ask with a scowl.
"Like- like a rich girl. A really rich girl."
"I don't sound anything like you."
"Weak insult based in sexism. Next."
You drop the shirt you'd been looking at. "Right, I forgot. Steve Harrington, King of Hawkins High, progressive."
He meets your gaze and smiles at you. He does this, sometimes, where he forgets he doesn't like you. Then something happens, a disagreement or an argument, and you're back to square one, Steve and his burden.
"I'm very progressive." He looks between you and the shirt he's holding, a men's cut, plain with long sleeves. It looks warm. "I think this'll fit. Come here."
You step over a fallen mannequin and let him hold the shirt to your abdomen.
"You're losing weight," he murmurs.
"Lucky me."
His hand touches your shoulder and he draws very close. "Bad news."
"I had it to lose."
"You need all the help you can get." He doesn't bother saying why. You're both more than aware of how dire the food situation is getting. If you can't find anything worth eating here, you're probably fucked. You might be fine. (You're fucked.)
You take the shirt. "Do you think it's silly to put it on now?"
"Definitely. I'll turn around."
He turns. You put your bag on the floor and quickly take off your outerwear. Your shirt smells bad because you smell worse, the strong smell of sweat no matter how much you scrub at it lingering. The fabric is imbued with a permanent odour.
New t-shirt in place, you preen at the feeling of new cotton over your skin.
"Are you done?"
"No-"
"Hurry. We need to move."
You always 'need to move'. You think Steve says it to sound cool.
You pull your clothes back on and hang your backpack from your aching shoulders. Over time, the bag feels heavier. Funny, as it's contents constantly lighten.
"We haven't found anything for you yet," you say.
Your shirt had needed replacing, it was thin and stained with a seam slowly unthreading. Steve's pants are worse. The zip is tied closed with a hair tie and the cuffs are pulling apart.
Steve reveals a pair he'd already set aside. "Tada."
"Put them on!"
"Sheesh, hold your horses."
"You could've been changing while I was. You always nag about wasting daylight."
"And leave us both defenseless. Good idea." His tone suggests a genuineness he doesn't possess.
You stand guard. Steve changes. You have that intrusive thought to turn and look at the sound of his belt unbuckling, the shucking of fabric. Intrusive, unreal. You don't look because you're not a pervert. You do, however, wonder about it. His naked legs, his thighs.
You shake your head and bite the inside of your lip to stave off bad thoughts. Stupid.
"Let's go."
Out of the clothing store and back to the walkways. You and Steve skulk with your backs to each other and some space between you, watching the open shutters for zombies or other people. You don't know which is scarier.
The mall is wrecked. Smashed glass, mysterious liquids, no electricity. Daylight streams in bright and unhindered by the huge skylights above. Nature struggles to fall in with it, but it does. Birds nest in the rafters, bugs cling to the walls. You suppress chills at the scuttling sounds of vermin and almost trip over an upended rack of stuffies outside of the toy store.
"You okay?" Steve asks. You don't know if he's looking at you, your eyes pinned on the stairwell across the way. Accidental or otherwise, making noise is a signal to the zombies that you're here.
If there's anybody here, they definitely would've heard you.
You don't answer Steve's question. He doesn't ask again.
"There's, like, a hot pretzel stand to the right," he says, intrigued.
You check what's in front of you one last time and then catch up to Steve. You'd love to take his arm, not because you think he'd let you or anything, but it's easy to miss touching people and he's right there in front of you.
"Under the shutter," he says quietly.
You crawl under and emerge in the dark. Steve joins you with his torch already in hand, flashing light quickly in all four corners of the room.
"This might be a bad idea," you whisper.
"It's okay. I doubt zombies can crawl."
"If they can?"
Predictably, Steve ignores you.
He weaves between untouched chairs and tables. You catch onto the end of his shirt and he's generous enough to pretend you haven't, the two of you making your way to the front counter. There might've been edible food behind the glass once but now it's all infested. It's disgusting.
You've seen a lot worse.
"That's gross," Steve says.
You tap the display and a dead fly falls off of the glass.
"Lift the counter?" you whisper.
You make your way to the employees only door. "Be careful," he reminds you under his breath, "be quiet. You have your knife out?"
"Got it."
He throws the door open quick and looks around. There's a walk-in freezer to the left, an old couch in the middle, and a storage area to the right. Steve again checks each corner with the flashlight, the both of you holding your breath. You're holding the knife so tightly you can feel each divot of the grip moulding your skin.
"I think we're clear."
"I think we need another torch," you mumble.
It's really scary in the dark.
"They'll have batteries somewhere," Steve says. You think he might be humouring your fear. He's likely tired of having to reassure you.
Again, you grab his shirt. It's too dark to navigate the room without him.
Steve leads you to the staff kitchenette, opening the cabinets one by one. There's mugs in one, plates in another. Untouched by dust.
He has you hold the torch while he searches through drawers of kitchen tools and equipment.
"Do you miss pretzels?" you ask.
"Mm. With the cinnamon sugar."
"You like cinnamon?"
He pushes aside what looks like an ice cube tray of all things and finds an old key. He offers it to you with a peculiar smile, as if to say What do you think that does?
"Everyone likes cinnamon," he says.
"Not everybody."
"Everybody I knew did. Robin fucking loves cinnamon. At Christmas, she'd make me take her out for warm cinnamon cookies and... frozen cokes." His tone had started soft. It ends strangled.
"Frozen cokes? In winter? Isn't that sorta weird?" you ask.
He shuts the drawer harshly and doesn't answer. Your attempt to cut the tension backfires once again with him. Who could've guessed.
The next drawer is a motherlode.
"Yes," you say, cheeks taken by a sudden smile.
There's enough batteries to power your torch for a year. Steve tears open the packet and holds a hand up without looking at you. You scramble to open your bag and pull out your torch. Bigger and heavier than his is, it illuminates larger spaces and makes for less nerve-wracking supply runs, but it eats batteries like no tomorrow.
Steve cracks open your proffered torch and loads it up with batteries. The light flickers on before he's put the closing back into place.
He shines it straight in your eyes.
"Nice," you grumble.
"Now you got your own you can quit clinging," he says. "Why don't you go look in the freezer?"
"It'll all be spoiled. There hasn't been electricity in forever."
"Might find a can of something," he says with a shrug.
"If you want me to leave you alone, just say that."
"I want you to leave me alone."
You huff and spin away. Your torch shines over the couch, an ugly mess of floral pattern that went out of fashion a decade ago but is surprisingly new for a staff room. You drop yourself into it and stare at the ceiling for a while, dust motes drifting in the ray of torch light like snowflakes. You haven't seen snow in a long enough time that you're surprised you can remember what it feels like. If you close your eyes, stick out your tongue, a cold like ice feels sharp on your taste buds.
Steve cusses to himself. You sit up and find him sucking on an injured finger.
"Need help?" you ask.
He sticks his knife into the top of a cardboard box. "What did I tell you? Go look in the freezer."
"Steve, there's not gonna be anything in there."
"I worked in a place like this before. Just look."
You roll your eyes, feel super guilty about rolling your eyes, and then roll your eyes again when he says, "Don't be lazy."
"I'm not," you defend. Your whining falls on deaf ears.
The freezer door handle is fucked. You pull and pull until your palms burn and can't get it to unlock. Changing tactics, you press all of your weight forward and feel something click like it's not supposed to. The door crashes forward and you fall to one knee with a startled shriek.
Your heart slams between your ribs. When you're trying to be hypervigilant of every small sound, every movement, every change in your environment, sudden events are like a shot of adrenaline.
You land on one hand. Your torch flickers further in the room.
"Fuck," you mutter.
"What happened?" Steve asks, his footsteps fast and moving toward you.
You scramble forward to grab the torch before he can see you've broken it. You're ashamed at your own idiocy — you burn with it, a flush of heat in your cheeks that. Steve won't lie to you to make you feel better, so if the torch is broken he's gonna call you an idiot for it.
"Nothing!" you call.
The smell hits you like a freight train. Spoiled milk. Shelves and shelves of spoiled milk and batter. You gag and throw a hand over your nose. It smells almost as bad as a zombie, and they smell like fresh hell.
"Y/N," Steve says.
You throw your eyes over your shoulder and realise the door has closed behind you. There's a sound of a jiggling door handle on the other side. From your side it doesn't move.
A sinking feeling begins.
"Steve," you say, hitting your torch against your thigh. The light flickers off completely. You gawp.
"Can you open the door?"
You push your weight against it urgently. The handle doesn't want to move.
"I can't get it," you say, panicked.
"Push it inward."
"I am!"
"Okay, alright. Hold your horses."
"Steve, it won't open."
"I heard you the first time. Don't worry. I'm gonna get it open."
You throw yourself at the door. Steve must guess from the sound. "Stop," he says, frustration seeping into his low tenor, "that's not gonna work. It's hinged inward. Stand back, okay? I'm gonna force it."
"It's dark in here," you murmur pleadingly, moving away from the door.
"What?"
Your own fast breathing echoes around you. You hit the torch with the meat of your palm and the light flickers. You hit it again and it dissapears. You shouldn't be so scared, but the door closed means your trapped and the dark feels so oppressive now. Dark means you die, because you won't see a zombie before it bites you.
You realise that there's more than one person breathing.
Or rather, an illusion of breathing. A moan.
Your blood turns to ice as you spin. Your torchlight flicker flicker flickers, illuminating the face of somebody long dead.
"Oh my god," you say. It sticks to your throat like each word has been dipped in honey. Or ichor. "Fuck, Steve! Steve!"
"What?" he shouts back, equally freaked.
One eye opens. The other remains closed. One second, you can see the open socket, half an eyeball. The next, pitch darkness filled only by the grind of clicking teeth. Your breath catches in your throat and you keen as you walk backwards, the torch shaking in your hand.
The light flicks back on with your movement.
The zombie's face appears in front of yours.
You scream and fall flat on your butt, backpack preventing you from slamming onto your back. The torch turns off. You scrabble for your knife — where the fuck is your knife? Where's your knife?
Steve hammers against the door. "What the fuck?"
"There's a fucking geek in here!" you squeal, throat tight. You can barely get the words out. The zombie can't see you in the dark but it can hear you, it can smell you, and it's footsteps draw closer, one after another.
"Steve, get me out of here!" you beg.
He doesn't answer.
"Steve?" You don't sound like yourself. You're not sure you've ever made this sound before.
Nothing.
Your hands shake hard. You can't feel them as you bring the torch into your lap. You try to find the catch in the dark. When you can't you mess with the lens, screwing it tight to the right. You feel it move in, spinning back on.
The light exposes the zombies gained distance. He towers over you and you can't speak, can't breathe, can't sob. You hold your arms in front of your face and hope it won't hurt.
The door slams open. You get pushed roughly into the zombie's legs, the breath knocked from your chest.
You crumple in on yourself.
Footsteps slide with a rubber screech over the linoleum and you search the floor for your torch, breath coming in shirt pants. Your hand closes around it and you flick the switch with little success. Broken again. You must've loosened a fuse.
"Steve," you say desperately. Please don't die.
The zombie makes a noise like retching, Steve groans in extertion and then there's a sound of wetness, a sinking. A body falls to the floor.
Silence.
You flinch as he turns on his torch and shines it in your face.
"Oh, thank god."
Steve leans down and helps you up into his arms. You struggle to catch your breath, your face pressed hard into his chest. You can't cry though you desperately want to, too busy fighting for air.
Steve holds you, hands at your back. "It's okay. You got it, dummy, just take it slow."
You nod. You can't really focus as he pulls you out of the freezer. The air noticeably changes from brain matter to plain old stale.
"I thought you-" You swallow against an aching throat. "I thought you were gonna leave me."
"Why would you think that?" Steve asks.
"I was- I-" you stammer to a halt.
Your arms move of their own accord, over his shoulders and behind. You hide your face in the crook of his neck, hot tears spreading over his skin as you pull him in close, as close as you can.
Steve's hand is slow at first, hesitant against your shoulder. Your backpack stops him from hugging you properly, but you think maybe he might try otherwise.
"I wouldn't have left you here," he says.
There's hints. Confusion, sincerity. A rawness. You can't see his face, his torch pointed up at the ceiling, only where the light kisses his brow, the bridge of his nose.
Steve let's you cling until you've caught your breath.
"Let's sit down," he says.
He encourages you onto the old couch and shoves his small torch between the cushions. You miss his touch as soon as he leaves, an anxiety at being left alone dawns like a yawning chasm between you. Your relief when he returns can't be understated: you feel like a spent, abused nerve.
Cortisol and adrenaline crash through your veins. All that's left to do is come down. Hard, when you don't feel completely safe. Haven't felt completely safe in a long time. Steve's return helps.
"Don't touch the rim. It's sharp," he says, pressing an open can into your hand.
"Steve, is this-"
He passes you a spoon. "Sure is."
You don't have the luxury of nausea. Life or death situations start to wear off quicker when you're hungry, half-starved, and after a few good mouthfuls of pudding you're starting to feel better. Not perfect, not any less afraid, but there's a door between you and the zombie's dead dead body, and a door with a chair propped under the handle between you and the rest of the world. And there's Steve, a spoon between his lips with your poor torch in hand.
"You left your knife on the table. Do you know how stupid that is?" he asks, a spoon hanging from the corner of his mouth.
"Yes."
"Hm." He whacks the torch with his spoon. "Shit."
"I'm sorry."
"About the knife? You should be. You were totally defenseless."
"The torch."
He puts your torch down on the floor besides your gathered things. "Couldn't be helped."
"How'd you open the door?"
"Running start."
You sniffle and eat another spoonful of pudding. The last thing you'd eaten was half a gronala bar in the early hours of the morning when Steve had insisted you'd need your energy. It had been a year out of date and chalk in your mouth. The pudding may as well be straight molten gold for how valuable it feels.
It goes down soft. Calms your aching throat. By the time you've finished you almost feel settled. Almost.
"Steve... I'm sorry. For thinking you'd leave me. That's not fair. I mean, I know-" Why is it hard to talk to him? He's the only perosn you've had for company in God knows how long and you're still fumbling for the right thing to say. "You wouldn't do something like that to me. You have morals."
"I would do anything for my friends," he says, like he's disagreeing. "I would do anything to see them again. See them safe. Anything."
You bite your tongue. Tears sting. Hypocritical tears, because haven't you had that thought before? You'd do anything to get what you want. You'd do anything to live. Steve doesn't owe you anything.
"I didn't think you'd come back," you confess sheepishly.
"I'm always gonna come back for you."
You look up at him, finding his eyes illuminated in the dim light sweet and soft and brown.
"I want you to be safe."
"Are you saying I'm your friend?" you ask.
He glares at you. "Are we in middle school?"
"What?"
"What do you mean, what? What, I have to invite you to my birthday party or something? We need to go rollerblading together?"
"You're an asshole."
He snorts. "Asshole just saved your life."
"I didn't even wanna go in there, if you remember. I expressly said that I didn't wanna go in the freezer. It's your fault I was even in there in the first place."
"That's ridiculous. And a low blow. And fuck you."
"Not very friendly."
He laughs abruptly. It's a pretty sound, made golden by it's genuineness. Steve does sarcastic snickers and mocking chuckles, and none have ever sounded as his true laugh does now.
"I'll show you friendly," he mutters.
You raise your eyebrows. He moves enough to make the couch shift, upheaving your empty can and spoon. They fall together with a metallic clinking.
You watch mournfully. "I kind of wish I hadn't eaten it that fast. When's the last time we had sugar?"
"Don't speak too soon."
Steve shows you the stash. An entire box of pudding, enough to feed you both for a month, though the sugar might rot your teeth.
"We'll be sick of it in a week," Steve promises.
You're not so sure. Chocolate is chocolate, whether it's eaten during the zombie apocalypse or not.
-
more steve zombie!au
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Ask and you shall recieve! As I just finished the Inazuma Archon Quest, how about some angsty headcanons about a reader with a cryo vision who's Ayato's significant other, who unfortunately had their vision confiscated during the vision hunt decree? I'm really curious as to how the Yashiro Commissioner would deal with that situation if it impacts him directly.
oooo love this idea. This one got away from me a bit so it's long.
Pairing: Ayato x gn!reader
type: headcanons + small blurbs, angst, comfort
warnings: hyperventilation, panic attacks, depression, loss of motivation/will.
masterlist --> x.
Rules --> x.
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Unlike Ayato, you're not someone in a position of power who could prevent/delay the inevitable.
When the decree was first announced I imagine everyone with a vision was more confused than in a panic. There's no way anyone could've known the effects losing a vision could have because no one loses their vision. It was never heard of before now
"What do they mean they're confiscating our visions?"
"How is that even allowed? We earned these."
After the first visions were taken, and the true effects of a loss of vision became clear, true panic started. People were moving, running, taking as many boats as they could before the borders became closed. Pure. Chaos.
Since it's a decree from the Raiden herself though, and by extension, the God herself, there's little he believes he can do.
Would let you stay in his protection for as long as he can,.
Unfortunately being in a position of power is just as bad as being a citizen when trying to help w this situation, would he like to help every one of his/your friends and family? Of course. But if too many people were suddenly moving in/getting hired by the Yashiro commission quickly after the decree, it'd be seen as suspicious. Ultimately he still had to pick and choose so he's not seen as bending the system/becoming corrupt.
They caught you walking to get groceries one day, and demanded a search and seizure of your person in order to retrieve the vision.
You came back crying and in panic, the groceries never bought. He couldn't understand what you were saying at first thought the hyperventilating and stuttering. Doesn't ask any questions until he fully has you calmed down, rubbing your shoulders, helping you through your breathing, then asks you what you have to say.
"They....they took it Ayato. My visions gone." It was barely above a whisper, he almost didn't hear it. The look of absolute despair covered your face.
The first week you were a mess, but you were still yourself. Ayato was on visit with anyone that would listen to him to try and find out where the visions were going, and what was being done to them.
When he heard there was a statue to be built w the visions cemented inside of it, he stopped working for a second.
He went to his sister in need of help. "I can't do it Ayaka. How do I tell the person I love their visions getting put in a statue?"
Ultimately he had to tell you, it'd be worse if you just saw the construction on your way out one day. And that's when the dam broke.
He asked your family to let you stay at the Kamisato house full-time, which they fully allowed.
You didn't get out of bed for days and barely ate. At first, it was just the depression getting to you. You're hopes and dreams turned to shiny blue jewelry on a statue, to commemorate the god that's supposed to protect the land of all things.
Then your memory was getting foggy, you left the food in a bit too long when helping out in the kitchen, then you forgot Ayakas birthday. You couldn't recall how you and Ayato met.
"Love, can you repeat what I just said to you?"
"huh? I'm sorry Ayato, I guess my mind was somewhere else."
He's seen the effects that came w a vision being stolen but it was all in passing, he never stayed long enough to see how bad it got.
it wasn't until you started being indifferent that he realized he needed to do something. He thought he'd be relieved when you started getting out of bed more and eating more, but there was no light in your eyes that he fell in love with, no sparkle of snow he saw every time he looked at you. you weren't healing, you were becoming a shell.
It's true he couldn't shelter all of his loved ones from this decree, but he sure can fight it.
Began holding funds for families affected by the decree who could no longer work and support their families, and began support groups for those trying to heal and help heal others.
Keeps up a political appearance if only to continue to be a part of the political call, because bet the second he's seen picking sides he'll be excluded from conversations realll quick. So while he's continuing to put up appearances, he's secretly feeding that info to as many families as possible about where the next round-up of visions will go. Mainly using Thoma's chores to pass along notes to the public he goes to.
Becomes a significant patron to the resistance. Under an anonymous name of course, but often letters Kokomi and Gorou via pen pal names and code to give them all that they need.
There are times when you relapse, go hysterical begging to get your vision back, threatening to go up to the statue and break your vision free yourself. He has to physically stop you from leaving the building like this. Takes any hit or insult you throw.
"You're the head of the Yashiro commission you're supposed to be able to stop this. You still love me right? Do something!!" You're crying and pounding his chest and all he can do is agree and hold you. " I know love, I know. I'll make this right, I promise, just hold out a bit more for me ok? I love you so much." He really doesn't know which he'd prefer at this point, you being numb to the situation so you're at least no suffering, or you demanding justice because at least then you're doing something.
Holds you while you sleep, if you know you cry while you sleep, you either don't acknowledge it or you don't remember why you were crying in the first place.
He's a lot more exhausted as time goes on, exhaling big sighs and closing his eyes the second that meetings are over. You try and help him with relaxing, reassuring him that he doesn't have to try so hard. But he does, because right now you don't even know what you're trying to reassure him of, you're spitting empty words of love and reassurance as he tries and fight for you to feel again. It's frustrating, but he knows it's not your fault, so he has to put a face off not just at work but at home.
When it's all over, he sighs the biggest sigh of relief, not just for you, but for his sister and everyone he loves. The nation collectively cheered in the streets, hugging loved ones still dazed and confused about what all the commotion was about.
Ayato knocks on the bedroom door, as he was taught when entering a room. You open the door, eyes tired, clearly woken up from a nap but still answering non the less. "Sorry Ayato, I must've dosed off reading." You were cut off by a huge hug, lifting and twirling you a bit in the air, laughing along with you. "Hey now, what's all this about hun?"
He sets you down gently, hands pulling up to your shoulders and bending slightly to look you straight in the eyes. "We did it." He says.
"We did?"
"Yeah, we did it. We won, love."
"Oh. Well, good for us I suppose." He shakes the lackluster response off, quickly retrieving a cloth from his pocket and presenting it to you. You're still confused but take it anyway, slowly opening the cloth, revealing the vision you lost so long ago.
The shine that comes off you and the vision as it touches your bare palms is immaculate, a slight breeze that wasn't there before blowing you're hair. And then you're crying, for a second he's worried till the smile forms on your face and he realizes you're crying out of pure joy. You laugh like you haven't laughed in a century and all the color spills back into the world.
"What happens now?" You ask.
He smiles, taking your waist in his hands and kisses you deeply, for the first time in a long time.
"We start making things better."
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deandoesthingstome · 9 months
Text
travel the breadth of extremities
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Pairing: Geralt of Rivia X Forest Nypmh!OFC (Fithra)
Summary: Your job is to ferry travelers through the dangers of your forest. Your charge isn’t used to needing someone else so badly.
Warnings: There is sex in this story. It’s pretty tame. Some oral (m and f receiving), some standard p in v positions (cowgirl, missionary, I think that’s really it but if you find something else let me know.) NSFW, +18, NO MINORS
Word Count: 6k
A/N: I listened to Hejira on repeat almost the entire time I wrote this story. The title comes from the lyrics. I hope what I felt about this tale translated to the page for you. I made up a bunch of stuff. Also, I don’t own Geralt of Rivia or The Witcher, but I own this OFC and the words here. Please don’t repost. Likes, comments, reblogs are amazing. 
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"You should stay on your horse. And we have to keep to this path." I sighed heavily, frustrated at having to explain the situation yet again to this tall, silver haired man who had approached asking passage through the Faerlaith Forest.
We hadn’t spoken about much, other than his need to travel to the other side faster than a journey around the outer edges would take. I didn’t ask for a name because we have no need for that. And money wouldn’t be exchanged because it’s superfluous here. But from the moment we'd struck our deal, he'd already begun attempts to change the terms of our agreement. There weren't many, honestly. Stay on the horse. That was basically it. But this man, this witcher if my ken was to be trusted and it usually was, was not interested in being led along like dead weight.
“You’re sure we can't cut across the underbrush here? It'd be faster,” he groused, shifting to reposition himself securely in the saddle as I glanced over my shoulder with what I hoped was my best stink-eye as I led him along one of many paths with varying widths through the lush and dark greenery.
“You'd think so.” I’d already explained this to him at least twice since we set out from the forest’s edge, close to Gilgaard in what this man had called The Far Lands. To me, we were simply home. But this home was hostile territory to outsiders. Only the desperate and hurried ever bothered an attempt to cross Faerlaith on their way anywhere. Worn paths well clear of the forest would take any creature where they wanted to go, albeit hours or days longer than a trip through the forest. Usually.
“And I can't get down?” 
This question again, spoken with a gruff I was slowly getting used to.
“As I said from the outset, the ground in this forest is attuned to a certain presence and pressure. My footsteps and your horse will do you no harm. Your heavy gait would doom you.”
“I can walk lightly.” 
“Not likely,” I snorted, barely able to contain the laughter bubbling inside. I’d watched this man approach, reins of his steed in hand. He moved like he walked through honey, seemingly in no hurry, oddly enough. He was nimble, agile, stealthy to be sure. I could even imagine him cat-like. Maybe, wolf. But he couldn’t mask his weight when he walked no matter how quickly he might bound from foot to foot. Our land would not abide.
“Hmmm…” 
His low growl stirred an ember in the pit of my belly. One best left unattended, or so I’d always been advised. Passers-through were usually not of the ilk my kind cared to entangle with. But this man…
We walked on and I was grateful for the silence that settled over our tiny party of three. Of course the horse counted. How could she not? But the lack of grumbling allowed me to shift all my focus to the air around us, searching for telltale signs of danger, feeling for the practically imperceptible changes in pressure.
“So it's a certain gait that’s needed?” His voice caught me off guard for a moment as I realized he really would not let up.
“Mmhm.,” I answered, about to leave it at that. But maybe the conversation would be nice. It really wasn’t often anyone new came through. I decided to use his curiosity to my benefit, practicing the art of voice that wasn’t needed with my kind. “And pressure of step.”
“And you've mastered this gait?” he inquired.
“I was born to master it, so yes. Oh, and you'll want to be sure your horse...what was her name again?”
“Roach.”
“Yes, you'll want to be sure Roach doesn't try to feed or water along the way. I had you attach the leg guards in case the path gets too close or overrun with shrubbery. Her hooves are fine, but the skin should be covered.”
“The plants are dangerous?” he asked with incredulity.
“The water in the streams that lace through this land to feed them is, yes.” 
“Hmmm..” he growled again, the low throat reverberation permeating the air.
I hoped he wouldn’t ask how that came to be, that water flowing into the forest turned immediately toxic to anything not of the forest. That part of our heritage was kept hidden from all but the tribal elders. As if it would harm us to know why or how our land became so maleficent. In all my many years, though perhaps less than my somewhile companion, I was only taught how to hold the forest in high regard as I was nourished and sheltered, as well as to endure. I always considered it a wonder few ever left.
He seemed to consider it for a while as another silence fell and we walked further on into the depths of Faerlaith.
“Are you sure I can't walk myself? I’ve been studying the gait.”
“You've a hard time not being in control, don't you?” I laughed gently over my shoulder. It was amusing, this man who simply would not be told no.
“You like being in control?” he asked, a hint of something dangerous deep behind the words.
“Not especially. It's just what I do in this forest.”
“And out of the forest?” he asked.
“I could take it or leave it.” I honestly hadn’t spent much time out of the forest, so I’m not sure what those words were meant to convey. But I’d heard them once before, from a group I’d led through the bitter land and I liked the way it sounded.
“So I'm to sit here, on my horse, while you lead me, how far is it? Through the forest?” 
“We're about a third of the way through now. And yes. You just sit.” I turned my head to glance at him with a small smile over my shoulder again. “On your horse.”
“And watch.” I nodded in answer and he returned another low hum.
He was only silent for a few more moments this time.
“You can't teach me this walk?” It was definitely becoming amusing. I had a sense this man wasn’t verbose under normal circumstances, so I found it oddly endearing he couldn’t help himself here, where words were rarely necessary.
“It's the weight, too,” I replied.
“But I'm on the horse,” he countered.
“The ground doesn't know that.” 
He gave me another contemplative hum before continuing.
“It's a nice walk.”
“You've taken notice?” I was grateful he couldn’t see my eyebrow arched in curiosity. Why, I couldn’t say at the moment.
“I've had nothing to do but notice. It's...pleasant to see.”
I was about to ask if was sure he was talking about the walk when I spotted a Wrythe up ahead. The spirits were as dangerous as any other thing about the forest, save my tribe. The fact that this one had made itself known in enough time for me to turn back on our path to locate another route to the other side was puzzling. But it also meant I was distracted, and that my attention had faltered from my duty. 
“Why are we backtracking?” he asked as I carefully maneuvered Roach around in a wide part of the path.
When I was sure her hide was clear from the surrounding shrubs, I turned to answer.
“Don’t look back, but it’s gone now anyway. Still, there was a danger up ahead and now that this path for this journey is known, we have to find another way.”
“But we have to be already half way through. How far back must we go and how much longer will it take?”
“Honestly, I couldn’t say. I had hoped we could take the most direct route. I usually don’t have this kind of trouble. But I was sensed. And for now this trail is closed to us.”
Like a fool, he looked back.
“I don’t see anything.”
“I’m ignoring you for now. If you want to take your chances, be my guest, but I struck a bargain to ferry you safely through this forest. I’m going to keep moving and it’d be great if you stayed with me so I could finish my task.”
“But you’re going backwards.”
I didn’t respond. I had to recenter. Something was off. Could have been my balance, with all that twisting and turning as I attempted to view the witcher both surreptitiously and obviously, when our conversation warranted. Could have been the conversation itself. Something about the way he admired the gait. My gait. Had that caused me to falter?
We traveled back in silence again as I scanned the forest floor for the next fork that would allow us to turn back toward the exit location he had requested. Once I found it and had traveled a ways along the narrower line, I felt grounded enough to make another attempt at conversation.
“Can I ask, since I didn’t before? How is it you made it to Gilgaard without knowing about this forest or its dangers?” I called out, hoping the sound would travel over my shoulder and back to him without a turn of my head or body.
“What makes you think I come from the direction we’re headed?” Either my voice carried well or he had better hearing than most outsiders. “And you don’t have to shout.”
“You mentioned The Far Lands. Only someone not from here would call it that. And you don’t seem particularly aware of the specifics of Faerlaith.” I kept my gaze scanning the terrain in front of me, seeking out patterns or disruptions thereof. “You also don’t appear to be from around here and I had assumed you’d simply gone around us on your travels East. But usually those who choose to travel around us know why they are doing so.”
“Fair enough. I’ll admit these lands are completely new to me. I’m decidedly unaccustomed to being this unaware of my surroundings.”
“How did you even know to come this way?” I asked, always curious about why a new traveler chooses this direction.
“An old man, who come to think of it, may not have actually been an old man, heard me ask around the tavern about the fastest way back West. I’m already several weeks past due as my business in The Far Lands took longer than expected. This was his suggestion.”
“And what was your business?” He was silent and I took that to mean his business was off limits. “Alright then, how much did he tell you about where you were going?”
“Only that I’d need to seek an obvious inhabitant and strike a bargain. He mentioned the paths through were difficult, but I thought he meant twisty or hard to follow. He didn’t mention anything about poisonous water or vegetation, or spirits that turn you back when you’re halfway through.”
“Odd. Most folk who know about the need for a guide, also know exactly why. What a wonder he didn’t apprise you. Are you sorry you followed his advice?”
“It’s been a pleasant enough journey so far. If we can make it out by the end of the day, I’ll take the win.”
We walked on in what had become a comfortable silence. I could feel my belly begin to rumble but I felt rude eating when I couldn’t offer any of my food to my charge.
“Have you brought provisions with you? Any food, or water?” I asked, realizing I should have done so before we stepped into the tree-line. It would have at least given him the opportunity to go back for supplies. But when he told me where he wanted to exit and I calculated the crossing, I didn’t think we’d be stuck this long. 
Another lesson learned in my lifetime apprenticeship as a forest attendant. I’d been given so little instruction and I couldn’t help but wonder when I’d actually lose a visitor because no one had told me a key piece of information. 
“I have enough for the evening. And something for Roach. I suppose I’ll need to give her my water, since she can’t drink from here.”
“It would be best. I’m so sorry about that. Usually travelers know what they’re getting into. I really should remember to ask next time.”
At exactly that moment, another Wrythe appeared in the distance. Still far enough away that I had time to consider where to turn around or turn off next, but certainly in my intended path direction.
“What is it?” he asked, as if he could sense the shift in tension I held.
“We have to change route again.”
“What happens if we just move forward? I have a hefty sword, I could just…”
“You couldn’t.” I knew that for a fact. 
The bargains we struck for these passages were usually fleeting in nature. A favor to be curried later. Nothing truly tangible in the moment. Rarely, a brash young satyr would demand a weapon as payment. I always avoided such items, as it felt in direct opposition to the balance our kind struck with this forest to survive. But sometimes the outside trappings enchanted our kind. Those foolish young ones would find themselves face to face with a Wrythe, brandish a sword they only thought they knew how to wield, and end up missing limbs at best. The Wrythes were not to be trifled with.
“But I am an expert swordsman,” he responded, after listening to my tale.
“Good sir, I’ve never had anyone tell me anything with so much certainty. The Wrythes cannot be defeated. Only avoided. No one who has ever attempted to destroy one has escaped unscathed. And the Wrythe continues on.”
“There must be something…” I heard him mumble to himself. I had acute hearing as well.
We had just turned off to a new path, one I was sure would actually swing back around to meet up with our original route, a short distance past where we’d encountered the first Wrythe, when a third one made an appearance, though luckily off to the side and only audibly. But any more attempts West at this point would be deadly and I couldn’t risk it.
“We are not getting out of here tonight.” I tried to remain calm, but this had never happened to me before. I wasn’t sure what the next choice was, other than that I couldn’t go forward. And I needed to think. Something had disturbed my highly developed orienteering skills. “Please, no more talking.”
I eased Roach back around and up a short hill to a tri-fork. Glancing down each path, I caught a welcome sight and chose to follow the left-most branch. A short while later, a small clearing appeared along with an ancient dwelling surrounded by a raised walkway. Enough room for a man to dismount a horse without disturbing the earth. 
“I’ll have to check the provisions, but there should be a pail inside you can pour your water into for Roach. And you’ll need to tether her up here. Now that you’re dismounted, her weight will betray her. And she can’t graze besides.”
I handed the promised pail to the man and hopped off the porch with the other larger tub I had also found. Though it wasn’t the way I’d hoped to finish the day originally, luck had shifted to my side when I noticed the shelter and my mood was turning away from annoyed again. I set the vessel on the ground in the middle of the clearing and turned to see my companion wondering after me with a curious glance.
“If you have any magic powers,” I called playfully as I made my way back, “you should pray for rain tonight. Anything caught in that tub will be fresh and unburdened by the canopy of the forest. So it’ll be of value to you in the morning. Come inside,” I offered, squeezing by the horse and entering the small shack.
“Do you?” he asked.
“Have powers? Some. Though I don’t have the divining powers. I can cast a short blinding spell, to hide if I’m in the open. And I can speak through the roots. Not all of us can.It’s taken a long time to master, but I still have plenty to learn.”
I set about building a fire to keep the hut warm for the evening, then sat across the table from my guest. I studied his visage. His strong, square jaw roughly covered in a day’s growth. His cleft chin and full bottom lip. His brows furrowing towards his golden eyes.
“Since we’re stuck here for the night, could I ask your name?” 
“You didn’t need it before, when we struck our bargain,” he quirked an eyebrow at me.
“True. And I don’t actually need it now. But I thought it would be nice to know, since we’ll be together at least the night and well into tomorrow. I’m Fithra.” I wanted to extend my arm, to bind against his in greeting, but I hesitated too long and now he was answering me.
“Geralt.”
“Geralt. That’s a strong name.” I pulled my food from my pack and watched as he prepared a small feast from his. He was guarded about it before, but I wondered if sharing a meal would loosen his reserve. So I let curiosity get the better of me and asked. “What do you do, Geralt? For a living?”
“You don’t know?” he asked, seemingly surprised.
“I have an idea. But to be honest, the stories were all told as somewhere-else tales. I never knew they were true.”
“Many might wish they weren’t.”
“Are you a witcher then?”
“I am.”
“Must be maddening for you,” I conjectured, taking a small bite, conscious of the way his eyes seemed drawn to my mouth.
“What’s that?”
“Well,” I swallowed and dared a small lick of my lips, “if the tales are true, it must be torture that you aren’t able to use your powers to defeat the Wrythes. Since they can’t be defeated.”
“Everything can be defeated.” He took a bite now, and gave me an opportunity to gaze as he had.
“No one here knows how. And we’ve lived with the Wrythes for, well…since forever.”
“It’s usually true that when a people don’t know how to kill a thing, they name it unkillable. I’ve met plenty of beasts like that in my time. They don’t exist anymore.”
I fell silent with his words, unsure how to respond. I considered everything I had ever been told about the Wrythes, which amounted mostly to how to avoid them. What to do when I encounter one. Everything was some variation of “stay away” and not one piece of advice about how to harm them. Because we couldn’t.
“Do you know how they came to be?”
“Pardon?” I was shaken from my ruminations by his deep intonation.
“The Wrythes. Do you know how they came to be? Everything comes from somewhere, or something. And its destruction is often found in that detail.”
“No one ever said.” I sat dumbfounded. Suddenly, with a chill I hadn’t felt before, I remembered kin who had left the forest for good, searching for something more. What more, I could never say. “There are some who may know, but they keep the secrets.”
“What need do your people have of secrets?”
I thought about his question, even if he didn’t realize what he was asking. He couldn’t possibly know at this point that my people don’t communicate through words at all. We simply know what others are thinking and they in turn know what we are thinking. It was generally helpful in all areas of forest life, including coupling.
And as I considered what it would be like the next time I coupled with someone who knew exactly what I was thinking, I also began to imagine what it would be like to actually teach someone what I wanted. And to learn what they wanted also. I wondered if it would feel as exhilarating as learning my forest powers. If each time a discovery was made, I’d feel a fresh tingling, not better than the known, just new. 
But before I allowed myself to drift too far down that desire, I also realized this must also mean that not everyone can know everything everyone else is thinking. The elders had kept this from us. This origin. This danger. They kept the lore hidden and didn’t share and somehow I’ve allowed myself to believe what they said because why, but more importantly, how could they lie?
And yet they had. They had lied. They knew and we didn’t and they were able to keep it from us. It felt as distant and unknown as each power I might learn to strengthen my place with my people, in this world. Something to uncover.
Geralt watched me with steady eyes as I went through all the emotions that arrived with each passing thought. I wondered if he knew the moment I almost allowed myself to think about him learning my secrets. And I realized this is how they keep secrets. And I didn’t want that.
“I don’t have a need for secrets. My people may, though they pretend not to as well. It’s making me feel curious.”
“What are you curious about?”
“Why they keep the secrets. But also about you.” He wasn’t shocked or surprised. As if he was expecting it. Or perhaps hoping.
He licked his lips as he closed his eyes, shutting his light away from me but giving me a small look at what it might be like to make him shut his eyes with pleasure. The kind of pleasure that shone right through every fiber of a being so that even with eyes shut, the power and the energy might still break through.
I was eager to feel that with him and so I asked him if he would join me in the bed. He came without hesitation, grasping my shoulders to turn me toward him and leaning to press his lips against mine with an urgency I hadn’t expected. This was his desire as much as mine. I hadn’t enchanted him and for that I was grateful, because now I would be able to show him exactly what I needed and I could ask him to show me what he needed as well.
It would be brand new and exciting because there would be no expectations. Everything would be unfamiliar and all we could do was let each new touch, new caress, new kiss, take us deeper into the evening with one another. He undressed me, not as slowly as I would have preferred, and soon I lay naked before him.
“Would you like me to help you as you helped me?” I asked, eager to see him as naked as I was.
“I would like you to touch yourself for me.”
It wasn’t the answer I imagined but it was exactly the answer I was waiting for. He wanted me and he wanted me to prepare myself for him. There was no great need to add to the moisture I already knew was building up between my legs, but I felt an overwhelming desire to let him watch my tongue trace around the tips of my fingers..
The groan he let escape his lips at the sight told me how right I was. I teased my forefinger and middle finger and let him imagine exactly what I was thinking, which was how much I wanted to do this to his cock if he would finally release it from his clothing. As he moved to unbuckle and unbutton, I shoved my wet fingers right into my cunt, glistening before his wolfish gaze.
He didn’t linger on his clothes. If I thought he undressed me a little too fast, it was nothing compared to the speed with which he removed each artfully tailored article of clothing. His armor was admirable and clearly crafted by a skilled artisan, and yet it paled in comparison to the sculpted body beneath it.
I watched his muscles ripple with every movement and the sight of him made me press into my core faster and deeper with each new feature I was graced with. His shoulders, wide and commanding. His arms, bulging. His chest, taut and sprinkled with curls that begged to be combed through. If I wasn’t otherwise occupied, I would have reached out to stroke him,
I could only imagine his hips thrusting into me; his cock, enlarged and springing from between his tree trunks of thighs. I wanted him to sit so I could rub myself along them, leaving trails of slick in my path.
When he was finally naked, he dropped beside me in the bed and kissed me hard again. 
“Mmmfff. I cannot believe that a mere twelve hours ago you were but a stranger to me and I was promising future assistance and now we are here together in this bed. It seems apparent, but I feel I must ensure you are as welcoming of this as I am.”
“Welcoming?” I scoffed. “This is more than mere welcoming, Geralt. This is a promise fulfilled.”
He paused for a moment and I froze, worried he didn’t believe me. If he thought I was tricking him and would demand another promise in the morning, he would be wrong, but I couldn’t identify what he was thinking. That mysterious mind was now turning slowly to enemy and I understood why we had to keep everything in the open. Secrets make enemies.
“This is no trick. You made the promise of a promise. You didn’t know what it might be, as neither did I, but you agreed to the term and accepted my guidance. Now I am asking you to pay your favor early. To trust that I would never consider this the end of my agreement with you simply because you’d fulfilled your promise before I did. Tomorrow does not bring another bargain. This bargain endures, until I see you safely on the other side of Faerlaith. On my honor. Now, please. Speak to me as you would your lover.”
“It will require no great imagination, as I already wish this myself.”
He proceeded, then, to tell me exactly how to keep pleasuring myself for his amusement. And once he had shifted his body in between my legs, he admitted that placing his tongue dead center to nip at and lick at my not-so-more-hidden flower was making him unbearably hard. He endured for as long as it took to make me cry out his name, and I held a firm grip on his white hair as a rush of wet heat poured over his face.
When I attempted to move away and turn to place my head close to his engorged member, he stopped me. “I do not wish for that.”
“Ever?” I asked, sure I’d misunderstood.
“Just right now. Just for right now, I desire your weight lifted above me. I want to lay back and watch you slide down my cock. I want to see the pleasure on your face. It couldn’t possibly make you any more beautiful than you are now, but I want to know if I’m wrong”
He helped me find my balance and then watched rapt, exactly the way he had as I had touched myself for him. At first, he allowed me to move myself up and down his shaft, and side to side, grinding my hips into him when I could manage a full descent. Once he was sure I had experienced another wave of never known before pleasure, he began to thrust and rut up into me. I managed to remain upright for as long as I could, eventually succumbing to an errant buck and falling forward against his chest. He held my mouth on his and kissed me deeply, keeping our lips sealed against one another even as he began to turn me to my back.
Every move was almost exactly as I would have wished it. Every touch, every kiss, every press, every pull. They all felt so familiar and yet so foreign at the same time. He took every cue I gave and translated it into the way I wanted him to put his hands on my body, and even though he didn’t find the spot I thought I wanted him to find, he found another. And the trembling I felt begin in my bones was nothing compared to the cry of ecstasy he drew from me before he roared with a final thrust.
It was as late in the evening as the early morning hours when I woke to find him seated at the edge of the bed. The fire embers were still burning low and I wondered if he thought we needed another log of slow burning knup wood. I was startled when he spoke.
“I can hear them.”
I was about to ask him who when I, too, heard the Wrythe’s cry. How had he not heard this before? In the woods, when my hearing had allowed it. I thought our senses were well matched.
“Is it always like this?” he asked.
“Like what? What exactly do you hear?” I countered, realizing I couldn’t be sure if he was hearing what I was. His answer confirmed it though. And as we listened to the low, mournful wail, circling the clearing knowing it couldn’t cross the open field to find us, I draped myself around him, legs across his lap and arms encircling his shoulders. I melted into the cradle of his arms as he reached up to hold me close.
“But you don’t hear what they are saying?” he asked.
“What? They don’t speak words.”
“Oh they absolutely do. They’re speaking right now.”
“Geralt. You’re saying you hear words in that low moan that you couldn’t hear not more than three hours ago?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
I waited longer than I felt I should have had to.
“Well, for ‘leith’s sake, what are they saying?”
Geralt proceeded to translate a tale that both saddened and angered me. These Wrythes, the spirits that would not let us defend a wayward traveler without injury, these forest menaces, they were protecting us. They were the ghosts of wayward forest kin, end met too soon in a hateful or violent manner, returned to their home. Cursed, as in life, with no voice as well as no unspoken connection. That skill had disappeared with the life. The ghost instead returned with moans. Or so we thought, apparently. Or had been told.
Geralt, and who knows how many others, had the ability to hear the words. If the elders knew and this is what they were keeping from us, I had even more questions than before. I slowly eased myself off Geralt’s lap to settle back against the wall and drew my knees to my chest.
“They are saying that there are still others, as far as they know, who remain outside the forest.” He turned to face me, drawing one knee onto the bed. “That they are only exceptions, souls who were killed in crime at the same rate as any other people in the world. They want you to know, there is no reason to think this would happen to everyone who entered the wider world for good, not just to make a trade.”
“But then why do they harm us when we ferry men, or sorceresses, or elves across?”
“Pure coincidence. The ones they appear around are most likely to do harm or evil to your kind.”
“But they appeared for you?”
“Ah yes. They appeared because they knew my hearing would pick up the vibration, but only after you and I laid together.” 
I blinked and took in the words, as well as the small smile on his face. The Wrythes had played matchmaker. That was why I couldn’t get across the forest this time. But then would Geralt have ever agreed to this if not for the interference?
“Yes. Yes I would have.” He seemed to know exactly what was going through my mind, but it was my clear voice hanging in the air that assured me the question had been asked out loud. “As soon as we were clear of the trees, I would have asked you to accompany me to the nearest inn for an evening before I continued on my way. I still may yet.”
I was surprised to hear such an unabashed confession and felt a swell in my heart. Even though our coupling had created a connection, it appeared to only allow Geralt to hear the Wrythes. It did not afford him the ability to speak without words to me. And he had chosen to speak his mind to me with no uncertainty.
“It pleases me to know this. In fact, it makes me want to return under these covers with you right now.” He gave a wolfish grin and joined me.
In the morning, I convinced Geralt to give me one last coupling. It was slow and lazy as he made his way up and down my body with kisses, tasting and nipping here and there, paying attention to what made me squirm and then repeating the motion a few more tortuous times. He found a way to make me almost release with just his tongue on my nipple. And he didn’t mind at all as I pressed against his chest and gently eased him onto his back so I could seat myself between his legs and press my lips and tongue to his cock before I slid my mouth around and down the shaft. 
I moaned around his girth and recalled how it felt to have him buried inside me last night. When I could no longer bear the memory alone, I eased off his cock and leaned back, beckoning for him to shift his body forward and over me so he could slip his dick back inside and make me come for him again and again.
It was worth the late start, especially because it had already been determined I would not be accompanying Geralt to the next inn. This one night, and now morning, would have to suffice. I was leaving the forest, for sure. The paths were still treacherous to outsiders, though as long as they stayed on horses and did not stop to water or eat, they could make it across without delay now. And without a guide.
I was no longer needed and so, yes I’d be leaving the forest to see if making my way in the wider world was of worth. But Geralt would not be joining me on my journey and nor could I join him on his. He was on his way to Kaer Morhen and late as it was. The route would be treacherous, the roads beginning to cover in snow. It was not a suitable place for outsiders. 
He turned to me with gratitude as we reached the forest edge and began to say our parting words.
“I will never forget you, Geralt of Rivia. I am glad to have met you along my way and happy it was through knowing you that the curse of my people was lifted. I am fearful about what this change will bring to my home, though. Maybe more of my kin will die at the hands of travelers.”
“The land will surely still protect you,” he spoke as a sage “And I have no doubt our paths will cross again someday. It has been my experience that once a kindred soul is met, nothing but death will break the bond and they will re-meet over and over. Surely, you and I are kindred. And I look forward to the day we draw near again.”
After a final kiss, wrapped in his embrace, we finally broke free and parted ways. I headed south and he pointed north. I turned on my toes from time to time, pleased to see him peering back over his shoulder every now and then until the distance between us was so wide and he began to drop down over the hill so that I could no longer see even the top of his head. 
I turned south again to make my way to meet my next fate.
Taglist:
@sillyrabbit81 , @kittenofdoomage , @mayloma , @kebabgirl67 , @fvckinghenrycavill , @geralts-yenn , @beck07990 , @itsrubberbisquit , @feelmyroarrrr , @sweetdreamsofgelato , @liveoncoffeeandflowersss , @alexakeyloveloki , @marantha , @aireraume , @angelmather1 , @lizzystuffsthings , @enchantedbytomandhenry , @omgkatinka , @littlefreya , @avengersfan25 , @thesaucynomad , @just-chirpin ​
Also, if you want this? @dadralt @hope-to-hell ​ maybe?
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eff-plays · 9 days
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On these notes, can I umm ... have Tavs who are like ... their own people. With personal issues and hangups and conflicts and preferences. I need Tavs who have spines, who don't just exist to be soft and gentle for Astarion's sake, who don't exist to be therapists for him. Like I get it, it's self-care for writers to some extent, but it just makes for such boring reading when a Tav is always 100% understanding and pliable for Astarion. When they're head over heels instantly and understand him perfectly with minimal explanations. When they can somehow tell, feel his pain through nothing but his eyes. After knowing him for days, hours, seconds.
Need Tavs who don't let him drink from them and/or tell him to only bite enemies because it's more pragmatic. Tavs who don't get off to his bites and in fact find them painful and inconvenient. Tavs who disagree with him to his face. Tavs who call him out when he's being a cunt.
"I didn't tell anyone you're a vampire because it's not my secret to tell" but why? He never asked to keep it a secret, and he attacked you. In your sleep. You owe him nothing, and he could pose an active danger to the others if you don't tell them? How do you know he doesn't? He's done nothing to earn your trust, yet you offer it anyway. And you're not written to be stupid, just that you innately know he's important/damaged somehow, so what gives?
It annoys me that the only time meta knowledge is used it's in his favor. Like Tav just knows he's good deep down somehow. Despite him being a huge cunt constantly. Like, he kills Tav if they fail to make him stop. Without remorse. He even jokes about it later when they have the audacity to be upset about it. But that's never even a fear some Tavs have. When it makes far more sense to be suspicious he'd do that than trusting him instantly.
And another thing like ... So many Tavs are just orbiting Astarion. Just straight up fail to make connections of friendships with anyone else. They'll also have some sad backstory of course, but only Astarion is somehow aware of it, he's the only one who has any insight into their inner turmoil while everyone else doesn't give a shit, I guess. Which is just. He gets to both have the benefit of the doubt and special insight and understanding of Tav. He gets to have all the cards.
Where's the mess. Where's the conflict. Where's the intrigue and fun of two actual individual people learning to overcome their differences and/or finding comfort in their similarities?
Idk I realize I'm barking up the wrong tree because this is generally the state of most fic and the romance genre in general but it's extra evident in the Astarion fandom where he's elevated to the status of the ultimate victim and ultimate sex god so any conflict is untenable because he's soo vunlerable and sensitive and all situations must have him coming out on top or else it'll be ... idk, problematic? Abusive? Traumatic to him? What's the reason?
It ends up just doing him a disservice? Part of what makes the romance so compelling-in game (at least the Spawn route) is that Tav challenges him and his assumptions. That they push back. But in fic these Tavs "push back" by just accepting his bullshit with a smile and waiting for him to realize he's being a bitch on his own, I guess. He's also rarely allowed to be silly or cringefail, which he canonically is, and he's so coddled that it makes it look like this grown-ass man can't handle anyone disagreeing with him or teasing him, so he's always paired up with the most weaksauce spineless soft quirky manic pixie dream Tav imaginable.
Like. It's always "Uwu how can I make him happy? Anything to make him happy!" What about you hon? What do you get out of this relationship, babygirl?
And tbh this is headcanon of course but I just don't think he'd respect a doormat Tav very much. He needs to be sprayed with water every now and then. For his own good.
Whatevs. I mean write whatever you want. But. Man. I just want more cool Tavs. And less stunted and flattened Astarion who can't take a joke or a goof or a gaff, who's always too cool to fail or be wrong.
And before someone says "this is why Durge is better!" I have no interest in Durge and do not read Durge fic sorry. Also that wound't even be true.
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nonstoplover · 2 years
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smooth operator ~ carlos sainz (cs55)
my masterlist | my f1 masterlist
pairing: carlos sainz x fem!reader
summary: carlos takes a taxi from the airport to his hotel, and though he tries to hide who he is, a specific song changes the situation.
words: 1.7K
a/n: i had this thought watching this youtube video from 2020 on the official F1 channel ("what does an f1 driver say to a taxi driver?") and reading the comments under it, where someone suggested this very situation ("imagine if sainz hops into your taxi and you recognize him and he lies about being someone else, and you just casually play smooth operator on the radio") and i just knew i had to write this.
also, this is kinda a celebration too for carlos' quali results yesterday, he's starting from pole today!!
please don't be a ghost reader! any feedback is well appreciated!
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From the very first moment he sits down on the backseat and closes the door, she knows who he is. Of course she does, she's not been a Formula-1 fan for so many years for nothing. She can still remember the day he first appeared amongst the twenty best race car drivers in the world and started to compete. Carlos Sainz.
Taking a deep breath and hoping that it doesn't come off as too obvious to the man sitting in the back, she tears her eyes off the rearview and simply asks him where is he headed. Professionality is key. Yes, she's a fan, but in this very moment she's not here as that, as a fan, but as a taxi driver. And taxi drivers don't start fangirling when a specific passenger sits in their car.
Also, what if it made him feel uncomfortable if she started behaving like a fan? He probably experiences being surrounded by fans all the time, it must be tiring after a while. Maybe he'd appreciate a bit of calm. And if that takes her having to keep her enthusiasm about the sport he does and about him to herself, then so be it.
With all that said, she definitely tries to make a bit of small talk after starting driving down the street – trying maybe a bit more than she normally does with her passengers, because it's not like she's going to give up even this small opportunity to chat with one of her idols.
Luckily he doesn't seem to mind, he answers her questions with somewhat elaborate sentences, no one-worded, seemingly annoyed replies, and he keeps on asking back as to not let the conversation be all about himself.
"How is taxi driving though? I'm sure it must be interesting to meet so many different people."
"It is, actually," she nods, and can't help but think about the man himself asking the question. He's been the most interesting to meet during her life as a taxi driver for sure. "But there are definitely times when I wish I could do something else," she admits in the end.
"Really? How come?"
"Well, there are weird people first of all. And to be honest, driving the same roads all the time can get a bit tiring for sure."
"Don't tell me," comes his mumbled response before he softly chuckles to himself.
"Why, what's your job?" (y/n) glances shortly at the rearview to catch a glimpse at him, deciding to keep up her act.
He takes a couple seconds to reply, and she wonders if someone else in her place who didn't know who he is would find it weird or not, him seemingly having to think about his answer a bit. "Ah, I'm just a baker, I just have to drive the same road to get the ingredients," he says in the end, and it's safe to say that his reply surprises her. She can't really tell why though. Is it more because he didn't admit his actual job or is it more because he came up with something so random and so different?
Biting her lower lip she holds back the giggle threatening to bubble from her lips, knowing exactly what he does for a living. But no matter what, she's not going to be the one to force him. If he doesn't want to share this particular information with her, that's fine. That's his decision and she doesn't mind. If that's what it takes to make this taxi drive with her comfortable for him, then they'll pretend he's a baker. The thought in itself is enough to make her almost break her act once more as another wave of giggling comes over her, and she can barely repress it.
The subject changes and they move on, until eventually he gets a message on his phone that distracts him from the conversation, and as he starts typing away on the screen, a moderate silence takes over the car. As she has more time to think, (y/n)'s mind comes up with an idea that seems too funny not to actually do – and since they're already getting closer and closer to their destination, she decides fuck it. She's probably never going to have a chance like this in her life again, so why not make the most of it? It's not that crazy of a thing to do, he's probably had way worse experiences with fans.
And so when she slows and stops the car at a red light, she swiftly grabs her phone and puts the song Smooth Operator on queue on the playlist that's been quietly playing in the background the whole drive and then waits. It takes a while, first the song that's playing needs to end and then the song's long first verse has to flow into the chorus for him to recognise it. She's been glancing in the rearview quite often, not wanting to miss his reaction, and this way she catches the moment he starts mumbling the lyrics to himself.
Her lips start to curl into a grin just as his mind catches up to his lips and he fully realises what it is he's started mumbling to. Carlos immediately glances up from his phone, the question clearly written on his face. Is it a coincidence or is it not? Their eyes connect in the mirror and he can see the smirk playing in the corner of her lips, the cheeky shine of her eyes, and so the answer to his unspoken question is right there, clear as day.
He raises an eyebrow just before she joins in for the last line of the chorus, "Smoooth operator..." and just like that the act is over, she can't hold the giggling back anymore, it bursting out in waves from her lungs.
"I know who you are," she says sheepishly when she regains control over herself, a small smile playing on her lips. "Big fan."
Carlos smiles to himself at that, first of all glad that she's not the crazy, screaming-crying-obsessing kind, but also just being happy he met a fan. It's a feeling that never really gets old – well, when the fan in question is a kind (and normal) person.
"Oh yeah?"
"Yep," (y/n) nods. "I mean, I've been following what's going on in the F1 world since I was a kid, so it's been going on for a while now."
Once again they smile at each other in the rearview mirror. "Who do you support the most?" Carlos asks after a moment, a playful grin evident on his face.
The girl blushes and her eyes shift back swiftly on the road ahead of them, deeply focusing on the asphalt and nothing else. It takes her a couple seconds to speak up, seconds that he waits to be over patiently.
"Lando," comes her extremely quiet, mumbled reply, which makes him burst out laughing. "But you are one of the absolute best on the grid right now," she's swift to add, but it only fuels his laughter – which leads to her cheeks growing more and more red with every passing second.
"There's no going back now, you said it, it's not me," he keeps on chuckling, and eventually she breaks and lets out a giggle herself at his antics.
"I'm sorry," she offers.
"No, you shouldn't be. It's more than fine that you support someone else," Carlos smiles at her in the mirror, that absolutely gorgeous, heartwarming smile. "I really appreciate your honesty though. I'm sure many people would've said me in your shoes."
(y/n) shrugs, but the blush that she's just been able to finally get rid of comes back once more, creeping up on her neck to paint the skin of her cheeks bright pink again. She can't help it, the words he's spoken and his smile combined simply have that effect. And it's not like the smiles he's given her during the ride, it's different. Somehow it feels more meaningful.
"And we're here," she announces a minute or so later as she pulls up in front of the hotel building he's given as the address.
Carlos doesn't make a move to pay her or get out of the car, leaving her waiting patiently with thoughts running around in her head as she keeps wondering what he's waiting for.
"I know one way you can make it up to me, not supporting me the most," he speaks up a little while later.
"Oh? I thought you said you didn't mind," (y/n) replies immediately, partly to conceal her surprise at his sudden announcement.
"Yeah but maybe I do actually."
Her heart feels like its being held by a tight fist as she awaits his next sentence. Please don't tell me I actually hurt his feelings, she pleads to whoever's listening to her thoughts.
"If you give me your phone number and I can take you out for dinner then I forgive you."
(y/n) can't help but giggle, slightly hysterical as his words register in her brain. So she didn't hurt him. It's a big relief.But still, it feels too surreal to be truly what he said. What? Why would he want that? Is this a joke?
"That's an easy task," she smiles, trying to hide the shaking that's suddenly come over her, then turns in her seat so she can properly look him in the eye, without the distortion of the piece of glass that is the rearview mirror. "Give me your phone."
Carlos' lips curl into that smile again whilst he does as told. As he waits for her to finish, his eyes move along her figure, then the inside of the car, and suddenly he notices a tiny Formula-1 toy car on display. How could he miss that during this entire drive?
When she hands him his phone back, he's already pulled out his wallet, so in a couple seconds they're already done with the payment – him leaving a very generous tip to her that she tried hard to deny him – and he eventually moves to get out of the car.
"See you later," he leans down so his head moves back into the car before fully straightening up and closing the car door behind him.
When he reaches the hotel's front door with his suitcase rolling behind him, Carlos can hear her car coming to life once more and zooming away on the street. A small smile makes its way onto his face as he takes the remaining steps to the counter, the thought of her and their conversation making his heart beat just a little bit more. As he stops there, standing in line behind a couple already talking to the receptionist, he glances at his phone once again.
'the smooth taxi driver', she wrote as her contact name. He chuckles to himself at that, joyously shaking his head as his fingers start typing in a text message to her already.
.::the end::.
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softevnstan · 1 year
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³.⍭ 𝐈𝐭 𝐅𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞
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pairing. bucky barnes x gender netural!reader
summary. you couldn't believe the name that graced the file on your desk for your new patient. james 'bucky' barnes. you'd heard of him - even studied some of his history during college for psychology classes. never would you have imagined he'd be sent to your office, looking for help.
a.n. yeahhh i couldn't do this as just a one time thing. this is going to be a multi-part i write to update every now and again. so for today you have crumbs of what your first session is like. as someone who's been diagnosed with c-ptsd and has a butt-load of trauma, i'm writing bucky's experience in therapy based on my own. that being said i do not condone patient/therapist irl or any of that power balance outside of fiction. gross. that's the only disclaimer for this series tho going forward, i'm not gonna tag that everytime.
edit. part two is here yall
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“So, Mr. Barnes, from what I’m understanding, you'd like to make me your primary therapist and discontinue working with Doctor Raynor?” Perhaps if you knew you’d be in this situation, you would’ve mentally prepared yourself a little better for the day when you got up out of bed that morning.
Being a therapist certainly wasn’t without its obstacles, no – It’s a lot to listen to someone else’s problems and just how many callus and evil things happen in the world. It also has its moments where it reminds you just how vile people can be, too. From children all the way to elderly, you’ve seen countless patients. They come back because you’re passionate about your job; Not looking at these people as paychecks but as living, breathing people. And sometimes people just need someone to talk to; there’s no shame in that.
You just never anticipated you’d have a war hero on your office couch, though. That was not on the radar when you were working towards your Master’s Degree. 
James “Bucky” Buchanan Barnes sat across from your beige and brown striped armchair on the couch. He looked lonely in the middle; For a man so broad, it would be impressive how small he could make himself if not for the fact it was simultaneously heart wrenching. Cobalt eyes struggled to meet your gaze from the moment he walked into the office to begin the session. His body looked awfully stiff, and his eyes dark like he hadn’t had a good night’s rest in weeks. Perhaps months.
“Yes.” He answers stiffly, “Please.” At least he’s sure to mind his manners despite the clear discomfort radiating from the soldier across from you. But his quiet and taut demeanor is discouraging: “It’s important that you are comfortable here, Mr. Barnes. Therapy is something that works best when it doesn’t feel forced…” “I am comfortable,” Bucky jumps to correct, earning a slight raise of a brow from you before schooling your expression once more. “Comfortable enough. I’m just new to… this.” The man makes a vague gesture with his hands between the both of you; Aching eyes speaking more than words ever will when Bucky briefly raises them to look at you.
The first step is wanting to heal. Bucky’s already showing initiative by being present - by putting his foot forward to try to find a therapist better suited to him rather than just throwing his hands up after the first dead end. That’s good. You can work with that. 
Your lips curl into a soft, welcoming smile. “Change can be scary, especially when we don’t understand what all is changing or what could come from it. With us working together, though, I can only do as much as you let me. It’s going to be intimidating, and you may not like it, but I want to help you feel better, Mr. Barnes. You deserve to feel better.” Positive reinforcements are always a good thing so long as they’re not condescending or passive aggressive. It’s all in the delivery, you’ve learned. It’s important patients feel comfortable when they’re with you – how else are they expected to be honest, then?
Bucky looks quizzically for a few moments before once more averting his anxious gaze. It made your heart hurt to see a man so beaten down and on edge; it felt so obvious to you, but then again, you were educated on how to find the tells. You could read him like a book right then. Feel everything radiating off of him, almost.
“What kind of things will you do..?” Bucky inquires after a beat.
“Well, I’d like you to start keeping a journal that we could use for our sessions. It’ll help you keep a record of what you’re feeling and we could use it like a workbook – there’d be homework involved, but there’d be nothing I know you can’t handle.”
“Homework?”
You smile, a nod of your head: “Work sheets, sometimes I’ll ask you to read something for me or answer a few questions, sometimes I’ll give you a worksheet you can use when necessary – then the next time I see you, we’ll go over what you’ve brought back and assess together so I can help you understand.”
He’s tentative to the idea, you can see it. It’s clear Bucky is very selective and reserved. You can only imagine how much strife this poor man has been through. But you see the light in him. You do. He wouldn’t be here if he didn’t want to get better.
“...I don’t want to be unhappy anymore,” Bucky says, almost not catching the words if not for the fact the room is silent except for the two of you. “I can help you, Bucky,” you assure him, voice sincere. “We just need to work together and let me give you the tools to be happy. Do you think you can do that for me, Mr. Barnes?”
It’s clear your words seem to rock Bucky in some way, because he looks at you with something that almost resembles shock. As if he’s never heard anyone say something like that to him, has never wanted to help him become himself again. And if his experiences with Raynor is anything to base off of, Bucky needs a proper support system and someone who’s there with his best interest in mind. You can be that for him - even if it is your job irregardless. 
He’s silent, eyes darting away and breaking the brief moment of eye contact between the both of you. Then, a nod.
“I can try.” it might as well be a promise.
“That’s all I’ll ever ask of you.”
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pomplalamoose · 4 months
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do you have any headcanons for luke with a reader who has some kind of trauma 🥺 no need to expand on what the trauma is (don't want to trigger you or anyone) but i deal with that and would love to know how luke would relate. totally okay to skip this if you don't want to talk about stuff like that :)
That's such a sweet ask, anon and I'm sorry you have to deal with this <3
(I hate to say so but unfortunately I'm relating a lot🤝🏻)
• Luke being Luke will always care about his friends' troubles and especially about yours
• when it comes to trauma though, he might need to go through some character development first to fully understand what's going on and where you're coming from
• like, I don't think pre ANH Luke, my sweet innocent sunshine boy, even knows what trauma is
• of course this doesn't mean he won't listen attentively
• he easily worries about you and even without being able to consciously reach out with the Force he can sense there's something you need/want to talk to him about
• he'd try to make whatever it is you're specifically fighting with easier for you, no questions asked
• it's just that I imagine him struggling to grasp the exact workings and effects trauma can have on a person
• at the beginning he might still think it to be something one can simply get rid of, and will ask if there is a cure
• this is going to be a little bit different with ANH Luke, as he truly has gone through a lot at the end of the movie
• he's not only able to sympathize but will also confide in you about how he is feeling in regard to what happened to him and the people he lost
• in case you're well educated about the topic of mental illness and trauma, I can see him asking you lots of questions about his own situation
• he's a naturally curious person and always eager to find out more
• unfortunately he'd be less focused on you and more on himself in this situation
• we can see something similar happening after the OT crew escapes the first Death Star and Leia, who would desperately need some comfort herself, consoles him because of Obi-Wan's death
• this doesn't mean Luke would overlook your experiences, he's just struggling a lot himself and too caught up in his own mind to properly be there for you
• actually he might be the one to lean on you in that aspect
• he would look up to you
• you seem so knowledgeable!
• you already have so much more experience than him!
• you know how all of this works, right? You can show him how to deal with this??
• ESB Luke is objectively the worst person to talk about your (but mostly his) trauma with
• he cares and wants to help just as much as the next guy but his own approach to it is definitely not healthy and you really don't want to get yourself dragged into that kind of mindset
• he is constantly in a rush and always busy
• he is frustrated
• he has no time for trauma
• what's that anyways? He eats that for breakfast
• he's not scared!
• (cue Yoda looking into the camera like he's on The Office)
• I think he suppresses a lot in order to somehow keep going for his his friends and the Alliance
• he's their last hope and it weighs down on him heavily
• I don't think he's in a head space where he would handle confronting heavy topics well
• especially because he'd be so worried he'd somehow end up faulting himself and would want to take on the sole responsibility for your psychological well being
• he has no trouble with his own burdens whatsoever so he can carry yours too, no problem!!!
• he means so well but would sadly end up ignoring his own boundaries and deliberately overwork his capabilities in the process
• ROTJ and post ROTJ Luke however?
• simply top tier perfection, 11/10
• would gladly recommend to anyone at any time
• spending lots of time with Yoda and self reflection paired with meditation made him come a long way
• he's now more balanced and able to see to his own needs better than ever
• he's very insightful and attentive and would probably recognize some of your behavioural patterns as trauma responses before you even have the notion to share your story with him
• depending on your relationship at this point he'll either say nothing but keep and eye out for you, or approach the topic in an empathetic way
• even he can't immediately know to what extent you're dealing with the effects of your past, so he'll be very careful about it
• he'll take a lot of time to intently listen to you
• if you are willing and/or able to talk about your drama in detail, he'll want to ask lots of questions
• mainly about if and how your day to day life is being affected and how he could help make it easier for you
• as opposed to his younger self he'll actually know what he's talking about and has lots of ideas and good approaches
• he'd totally offer to show you how to meditate, for example
• if you straight up tell him you don't want to talk about it/are not able to yet, he's more than sympathetic
• he too remembers what it felt like being unable to open up yet
• though he makes sure you know he's always there if you need something
• it's enough to let him know that there IS something you're struggling with to make him spring into action should you get triggered
• I think that's actually the most wonderful thing about him
• you don't need to explain
• anything
• he understands
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ryuichirou · 5 months
Text
GloMas asks
Anonymous asked:
Woke up randomly in the middle of the night thinking about if Azul topped Idia, Malleus, and Rollo in the Masquerade event.
I can imagine he'd do it as a display of control, the adrenaline he'd get from Malleus if Malleus agreed would be indescribable. Idia could be the one to build up his confidence in the situation and Rollo is just a victim of circumstance lmao
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Anonymous asked:
Not sure if you guys read the GloMas event but since it's dropping (and since EN will most likely censor the hell out of it) again, what about AzuRollo? I'd ask about the other two ssr boys but they're on your bottom list sadly. I just feel like something should've been done with Rollo's whole "do whatever you want with me, I've already lost everything" thing at the end.
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Anonymous asked:
Just out of curiosity with Rollo (the bottom supporter Anon here once again!) do you have any specific pairings with him? Like MalleRollo?
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Hi to all the Anons in this post; I decided to reply to all of you at once because we realised that one reply kind of bleeds into another, and by the way I’m putting all of these together you might already know what I’m about to talk about lol
But I’ll actually start by replying to the third Anon: we don’t really have any solid ship with Rollo now. MalleRollo confused us a lot, because their interactions were definitely flirty on Malleus’ part, but since we see both of them as bottoms, it didn’t really click with us. Or maybe it didn’t click with us, and this is why both of them are bottoms… I’m not sure what came first lol But yeah, I said it at some point already, but we’re getting solid “I’m tickling you, come on, tickle me back” vibes from the way Malleus acts towards Rollo and angry tsundere sounds from Rollo himself, which is obvious and lovely and fun, but just… a liiittle off/not enough, I guess? It’s a personal thing, as always.
But Rollo is very fun himself and has such a wonderful potential for either shipping or sexual scenarios. Of course, he fits nicely with the randos from his academy, and any other mob-type character, but what about any ships with our NRC boys?
And this is where Azul comes in handy lol And while AzuRollo isn’t really a ship that sails and burns everyone around it with its sheer power for us (…yet?), there really could be some potential with them. Their dynamic is also interesting, with Azul being overly sweet and nice, while also thinking that Rollo is a naive righteous prick that should be easy to fool; and Rollo just straight-up calling Azul a scoundrel and telling him that he feels that he has bad intentions.
Plus, like the second Anon mentioned, something really has to be done with Rollo’s "do whatever you want with me, I've already lost everything" thing. Like come on, he is a nicely-packaged present with a shiny bow on his head, please someone come take him lol Waiting for Azul to say “don’t mind if I do”
(also you’ve pointed out how the EN version is going to censor the event, and god how I hate even thinking about it, you are so so right :”))
Now, the first Anon. This makes way to much sense and I honestly feel so happy for Azul... Look at him go, topping three people in one day, and such a powerful bunch of people!! Azul feels like the type of person who would miraculously find energy after achieving something as exciting and impressive as grabbing Malleus Draconia himself by his horns, so Rollo is probably going to get the worst treatment when it comes to Azul’s horny feralness lol Truly, a trip to remember.
And of course, we should all thank Idia for building his confidence up and giving him a warm-up. After all that, Malleus is probably going to be the only one who isn’t completely exhausted and a little bit (or not) ashamed of himself…..
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oblivious-idiot · 1 year
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Hi there! I love your Lockwood&Co. stories! If you're still after prompts, would you do a Lucy x (fem or gn)reader fic where they both run into each other in the kitchen late one night, because they've both been having nightmares and can't sleep? And maybe they end up falling asleep on the couch together after staying up late talking?
Have a great day!
Sweet Nothings
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AN: This is so sweet, thank you Clair!! I hope you like this <3 (I had to rewrite it so many times until I liked it haha)
Pairings: Lucy Carlyle x fem!Reader
Word count: 800~
Warnings: fluff, hurt/comfort, mild language
Lockwood crashed down onto the floor as his rapier flew away from his hand, George passed out a few feet away. Lucy cradled your body as a phantom closed in over the group of you, your eyes a milky white colour from being Ghost Touched. Lucy sobbed as the impending fate of your group enclosed...
Lucy suddenly awoke from her nightmare, cold sweat rippling across her body, her heart in her throat. The last case the group battled was a close call, but her mind couldn't stop imagining worse situations while she slept. The thought of losing you to the Ghost Touch, someone she was so close to, someone she thinks she loved, she couldn't bare it. This group, Lockwood, George, and you, it was all she had and she was so afraid of losing it.
She arose from her bed quietly and grabbed her sweater, trying not to wake anyone else in the house, before slowly descending down the stairs to the kitchen. Spending some time in reality with a cup of tea will help her tired mind, reminding her that everything was okay.
What Lucy wasn't expecting when she arrived downstairs was to see the kitchen light already on. As she opened the door, her eyes met your body by the kitchen window, staring out into the garden as you filled the kettle. "Can you put in enough for two?" Lucy called out to you quietly, although still making you jump. You turned around to meet her eyes, your zip-up hoodie loosely hung over your shoulders, eyes clearly also burdened from lack of sleep and nightmares "yeah of course", you say giving her a soft smile.
"Bad dreams?" You ask her, resting your body against the kitchen counter as the kettle slowly boiled "I think 'bad' would be an understatement" she replied with a forced laugh, tugging at her sleeves. "Oh Luce..." you hold out your arms to hug her, which she gladly accepted, snuggling her face into your chest "I've been having them too, its okay..." your voice tight, almost as if you were telling yourself it was okay. Lucy wrapped her arms around you tightly underneath your hoodie, breathing in your comforting scent of cloves and vanilla.
The kettle eventually making its click sound to indicate it's finished boiling, you and Lucy slowly pull away from each so you can make the tea. You reach up to one of the top cupboards of the kitchen to pull out a box of sleepy herbal tea "If Lockwood knew you had that, he'd go ballistic" Lucy chuckled from behind you, "And that's why us girls aren't going to tell him, we both know that boy runs purely on extra caffeinated black tea" you reply, your soft smile making the edges of your eyes scrunch up. Lucy loved seeing you like this, sleepy but inviting. Were you flirting with her? God knows, but it made her heart ache.
Once the tea you had made finished brewing, you and Lucy headed into the living room where it was not only warmer, but also so much more comfy. Lucy pulled out a blanket from a nearby basket and you both snuggled into each other on the couch, her head resting on your shoulder as you both sipped your tea. "Do you want to talk about your dream, or would you prefer to think about something else?" You ask her, your voice soft and gentle so she knows that she shouldn't feel any pressure. "Something else, I really don't want to think about that.." Lucy replies quietly.
So the two of you start talking about all the stupid shit Lockwood and George have done since you both joined the agency, the both of you slightly delirious from the lack of sleep. "I swear neither of those boys had ever been around a girl when I first came here, this place was a mess" you laughed, telling Lucy about the constant piles of laundry and dirty dishes around the house, "oh oh, the state of the attic when I moved in, ugh!" Lucy added in, which made you look down at her "Luce, the attic was still my room too when you came" "Oh, so it was" she replied, sending you a cheeky grin.
Eventually you both started to become sleepy, the need for rest slowly taking over your bodies. You snuggled into Lucy as she rested her head on your chest, her arm cradled around you, almost as if so nothing would happen to you. Neither of you remember falling asleep, but it was the most peaceful sleep the both of you had for as long as you two could remember.
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