#chatterbox behavior | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

daistea · 1 year ago

Note

Since you take requests, would I be able to ask for something with Mithrun and Kabru with like a reader that's kind of dense with social cues/hints (especially if they're romantic)?

(I had people confess their love to me, and I still didn't get it till they put it in very clear terms)

(it's probably the 'tism, but I digress. )

I think it's potentially an absolutely hellerious dynamic since Kabru always plays 5D chess with every social interaction. As for Mithrun, I think it's funny to think how the other canaries would just be repeatedly hitting their head on the wall because their captain won't say it straight and they just don't g e t i t.

Ps: I absolutely love how in-depth all of your understanding of characters and their personalities are, and I just hxfhxdvgudts.

This blog just brings me so much joy

Yaaa!!

“Iᴛ’s ᴀ Dᴀᴛᴇ” Kᴀʙʀᴜ x Rᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, Mɪᴛʜʀᴜɴ x Rᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

gn reader

5000 words ;P

Warning: reader is very oblivious. Like incomprehensibly oblivious (for the lolz)

.・。.・��✭・.・✫・゜・。.

♡ Kabru ♡

- Kabru has had little flings here and there throughout his life. He treated every partner with respect, of course, but Kabru wasn’t particularly looking for love. He doesn’t dislike the idea of love, it just hasn’t happened yet.

- So, when Kabru starts to genuinely fall in love with someone, it’s a new feeling. He’s observant enough to recognize what it is.

- Unfortunately, the person he’s falling in love with is you.

“He’s been unusually quiet lately,” Holm remarked. Who he was remarking that to remained to be seen. Mickbell didn’t care much. Kuro had other things to worry about. And Rin had already made the same observation three times earlier that day.

The first floor of the dungeon was always crowded, and Kabru’s ears were usually open for anything that could be of use. The leather armor merchant to his left had recently raised his prices. The cobbler to the right was in an argument with an older lady over the shape of a patch he’d made on her favorite boots. And Holm was concerned about Kabru’s recent lack of observations; as concerned as Holm could be.

“Is that really such a shock?” Kabru sent Holm a smile over his shoulder. “I’m not exactly a chatterbox.”

But he was aware of himself enough to know that his behavior lately had been odd. He was usually so good at hiding it, too, but the comfort of his friends seemed to lower his walls. Without realizing it, Kabru had spent their latest dungeon expedition sighing to himself, staring at walls, and missing the details of important things. On the third floor, they’d encountered thieves. His party always relied on him to clock the intentions of approaching adventurers— thieves tended to be overly familiar, friendly, and a bit too eager— but Kabru’s mind was elsewhere. The thieves attacked, and it had genuinely taken him by surprise. The fight wasn’t hard, but Kabru’s lack of preparation set off alarms in Rin and Holm’s heads.

“You’re not,” Rin agreed. Her brow furrowed and she got that cute little line on her forehead again. “However, you’ve really been out of it.”

“Have you been thinking about that person again?” Holm asked.

That person. That person? Kabru knew a lot of persons. The whole first level was filled to the brim with persons, half of them being his acquaintances. Kabru had zero desire to admit that he knew precisely who Holm was referring to, though, and decided to keep his gaze straight ahead as he weaved through the crowd.

When he didn’t respond, Mickbell laughed, “Yeah, he’s thinking of them alright.”

“Heat?” Kuro asked.

Mickbell scoffed from his place on Kuro’s shoulders, “Tall-men don’t go into heat! At least I don’t think so. But they catch feelings, like a cold. Kabru’s caught a cold.”

“Not sneezing,” Kuro mumbled.

“A feelings cold, I mean! The worst kind.”

That was one way to put it. Kabru couldn’t help but sigh as he led the party towards a quieter spot in the corner. Once they were out of the sea of people, he leaned against the stone wall and ran his fingers through his hair. “I don’t have feelings, I’m simply curious,” he said.

Curious. Right. Mickbell sent him a scrunched up, narrow-eyed look that was reminiscent of constipation. Yet, Rin interjected before the half-foot could say something heinous. “What’re you curious about, particularly?” She asked.

“Good question,” Kabru folded his arms over his chest and tilted his head in thought.

What was he curious about? You held so many secrets. You had this look in your eyes that drew him, a look that reminded him of a room in his mother’s house. She always told him to not go inside. Her rules only made him want to turn the knob even more. And when he finally did disobey her and go inside, all he saw were boxes full of ceramic unicorn miniatures. Still, the rush of satisfaction he’d felt at finally knowing what was in there couldn’t be matched. That’s what he wanted to do to you, open your door and take a peek.

Or, perhaps a ‘peek’ was an understatement. He wanted to meticulously inspect every inch of your mind with a microscope, to know the atoms unseen by the human eye, to be intimately acquainted with every molecule you possessed.

“He’s zoned out again,” Holm muttered, ripping Kabru out of his thoughts.

He looked up, eyes widening at the observation. Holm was right, he was zoned out again, staring at the dirt on the floor and contemplating you.

He forced a smile, “Don’t worry about me, really. I’m just preoccupied. It’s that person, I simply want to know their intentions.”

“Intentions for what?” Rin asked.

For everything. There was no simple answer.

“Oh hey,” Mickbell glanced over his shoulder. His voice was flat as he scanned the room, “There they are.”

Kabru followed Mickbell’s gaze, a straight line that led directly to you— all lines seemed to lead directly to you lately. His heart clenched in a way that was both unpleasant and addictive. Without realizing it, he pushed away from the wall and began striding toward where you stood.

“Wait,” Rin grabbed his arm as he passed. Kabru blinked, looking down at her and waiting for her to speak. She met his eyes and frowned, “I think you’re going to be disappointed. They’re not as mysterious as you think they are.”

Nonsense. You were incredibly mysterious. Kabru could tell you had secrets, layers. He dreamed of pulling them back one by one.

“They couldn’t disappoint me,” he sent Rin a smile that he hoped was reassuring— he knew it was, he’d practiced it in the mirror and on other people all the time.

“I think they will,” she argued.

“They won’t,” his smile faltered just the slightest. Rin didn’t usually get involved in Kabru’s… hobby. Did she know something he didn’t? He decided to not ask outright, accepting the challenge of figuring out the meaning behind her concern on his own.

Rin let go of his arm and Kabru was free to go. His mind switched elsewhere, onto you, and before he knew it he was already slipping through the crowd of bodies to reach you.

You were in front of the vegetable seller’s stand, inspecting a lumpy potato. Kabru knew the vegetable seller was cheating on his wife. Usually, he’d try to get more out of the man, digging deeper simply for the sake of knowing. Yet, you stood there, beautiful and mind-consuming. What did Rin mean by ‘I think you’re going to be disappointed’? Kabru was rarely disappointed with secrets.

“Hey,” he raised a hand as he neared. You looked up from the potato and returned his smile. There was that look in your eyes again, that closed door he desperately needed the key to.

He loved crowds. He loved the hundreds of voices. He loved listening to each one and assigning them meaning, picking apart their words, filing them away into neat little categories. Yet, the crowd might as well have disappeared. All he saw was you. All he wanted was you and your words and your thoughts and your fears and your goals and your likes and your dislikes and your intentions and your—

“Oh hey,” your voice cut through the wants like the slash of a sword, “Kapru.”

Kapru.

His brows furrowed and he plastered on a polite smile— also practiced in the mirror. “It’s Kabru.”

“Right, sorry,” you shrugged.

Were you playing with him? Were you sending your pawn out, a piece that you expected him to take for the sake of a larger, more powerful move? Was it bait?

“How are you?” He forced himself to ask, though he could hear the weakness in his voice. He desperately hoped you wouldn’t notice.

You only tilted your head in thought, “I’m fine. Just buying potatoes.”

“It’s been so long since we’ve seen each other,” Kabru said. It was a lie, you saw him last week. “My party and I are about to go back to the surface to restock. We could grab a drink if you wanted.”

“Why?” You asked.

Why? Why? Kabru couldn’t say why. He wouldn’t say why. ‘I want to take detailed notes on every word you say, every gesture, every breath’ wouldn’t be helpful to his cause in the least.

“Because we’re friends,” he slowly explained. Again, there was that hint of weakness lacing every syllable. He wanted to tear his voice box apart and reconstruct it in a way that wouldn’t falter every time he saw you.

But you didn’t seem to notice. “Alright,” you sent him a smile that made his heart clench.

Alright. Kabru’s smile relaxed, “Alright,” he echoed. “It’s a date.”

‘It’s a date’ was a common saying, of course. But it still held implications, it still held desires, it still signified something more— At least to him it did.

You remained unphased by it, though. Usually, when Kabru said that, there would be a laugh or blush or the widening of eyes. You gave him nothing of the sort. No flirtatious looks, no intention-laced smile, no flicker of recognition.

“See you then,” was all you said.

Rin was wrong. You couldn’t disappoint him. Opening your doors and peeking inside your mind would be so satisfying.

- You go on several dates with Kabru without realizing they’re dates.

- After one date when you make friends with the next table over and invite them to join your meal, introducing Kabru as ‘my friend’ and not ‘the man who is courting me’ or ‘my boyfriend’, he begins to wonder…

- Do you not realize that these are dates?

Kabru knew he had the tendency to stare, but he usually kept that urge locked away for the sake of masking. Always masking. Always aware of his surroundings and the people and the words and the looks.

He kept his staring urge hidden at first. Yet as time passed, as you went on more dates, he couldn’t help himself. He had to stare. He had to drink in every detail of your face, coveting it all as a desert wanderer would covet water.

And you didn’t seem to mind. You would give him this look sometimes, a look he couldn’t quite decipher. It was a mixture between affection and confusion and bashfulness. It was his favorite expression of yours and never failed to put butterflies in his stomach.

Kabru knew he was falling in love. He wasn’t opposed to the idea, but he’d never been truly in love before. At night when he forced himself into bed, he stared at the ceiling and mused on the future you had together. Neither of you had said anything to make the relationship official, but was that even needed? It was obvious that you were together— to him, at least.

Kabru held your hand as he led you through the crowded streets. Once you caught up to his side, he placed his palm on the small of your back. He wasn’t much for PDA, but it was a necessity when traversing the island together. He didn’t want to lose you in the crowd.

Once you were in a more quiet spot, he sent you a smile, “I have to ask, I’m too curious; What’s your favorite date that we’ve had together?”

You thought for a moment, “Hm… I would have to say last week. It was a Thursday. I like Thursdays anyway. I think it was the 7th? Yeah. June 7th, Thursday. That’s a good date, it’s a bit cool outside and all the flowers are blooming. But if I had to say which one was my favorite, I think it would be April 18th. I’m not sure that we spent that date together, though.”

…Okay.

Like the sunset rising over the mountains, it began to dawn on him.

Were you stupid?

No, you weren’t stupid. He had seen you in the dungeon before, how you fought and strategized and reacted. You couldn’t be stupid.

Then what? Were you playing hard to get? Were you teasing him? Was this a move on the board, your Knight piece pressing forward to continue the assault? Kabru needed to know.

He kept his hand on your back but his gaze straight ahead. “That’s nice,” he said. It wasn’t nice, actually. “What about when we hold hands? Do you enjoy that?”

You shrugged, “It helps us keep track of each other as we go through a crowd.”

“But I hold your hand even when we’re not around other people.”

The face you made betrayed your true thoughts. “Yeah, it seems like your hands are cold a lot. You really should start keeping gloves with you.”

“...Do you think I’m holding your hand because my fingers are cold?”

Another flash of confusion, another furrow of your brows. “Why else would you hold my hand?”

The sun rose completely over the mountains and the daytime, clear and bright, engulfed his world.

You had no clue.

- This stresses Kabru out immensely.

- He starts taking notes. He has a special little book just for you. A lot of the pages are filled with scribbles and question marks.

- He makes a plan on what to do. He’s going to up the ante, he’s going to make his feelings so clear that you can’t ignore them or be oblivious even if you tried.

- He starts getting more touchy. He kisses your forehead often. He kisses your knuckles. He’s around you all the time, every chance he gets. He tells you you’re beautiful. He says that he wants you to meet his mother. He talks about your future together.

- You say, “Oh, your mom? Cool. You think we’ll get along? I’m always up for making new friends.”

- “You want a future with me? Well, I’m free next Wednesday.”

“I like you,” Kabru was breathless and wide-eyed. His hair was a mess from how often he’d run his fingers through it. He was disheveled and hadn’t slept the entire night.

You glanced up from the book you were reading, “Oh? Cool, thanks.”

He sent you a look. “No, I mean I love you.”

“Yeah,” you flipped a page in the book, “love you too.”

“You do?” Hope bloomed and unfurled like a spring flower. Kabru felt his cheeks grow warm, a fire igniting within him.

“Yeah,” you said lightly, “I love all my friends, of course.”

That spring flower suddenly wilted. The fire was doused by a cold bucket of water in the form of your words. Kabru wanted to scream and bang his head against the wall.

“You don’t get it,” he hissed through clenched teeth, fingers tensing as he leaned forward, desperate. “I’m in love with you. This is really hard for me to say, but I think you need to hear it like this. I love you. I love you. I love you…” Somehow, his cheeks went even hotter. His adams apple bobbed as he swallowed his embarrassment, “I-I… Sorry. I just need you like I need oxygen. I…”

You snorted, “You don’t need me to breathe, I’m a person not an organ. You’re breathing right now just fine.”

He was not breathing just fine, but that was beside the point.

“Excuse me for a moment,” Kabru said. He could hear how strained his voice sounded.

You watched as he walked away, rounding a corner and disappearing from sight. Then he screamed. It sounded like he also kicked something, a crate or box maybe.

How odd.

- When it finally gets through your head, he’s actually a bit satisfied by your embarrassment at it all. Yes, please do acknowledge your obliviousness. Please do apologize for treating his love confession so casually. When you do so, he feels as if he could melt from the relief.

- He still wants to bang his head on the wall, though.

- And he’s spent a lot of nights screaming into his pillow.

- Kabru continues to play 5d chess with you, just simply out of habit, but you’re playing Hungry Hungry Hippos the entire time. He still finds himself trying to pick apart your actions and responses, but he’s learned how to take things at face value when it comes to you. It’s a difficult adjustment, but one he’s willing to make.

- He starts to learn, take more notes, observe your behavior. For dates, he lays it out carefully. You two are going to do this specific thing. Why? Because he would like to see you happy, and hold your hand, and kiss you. Why? Because he loves you. Now you get it.

- You’re fascinating actually. Genuinely, he starts to adore how your brain works. He wants to pick it apart and hold the pieces up to a magnifying glass.

♡ Mithrun ♡

- He does not care.

- Be as oblivious as you want, that’s not going to stop Mithrun.

- The Canaries, however, are going insane.

“How’s it going with them?” Pattadol asked. Her hands were folded in front of her in that polite way, the way that told Mithrun that his second in command had something on her mind. Pattadol thought she was subtle. She was not.

And he knew precisely who she was referring to. Might as well give her an answer that’ll satisfy her curiosity, lest she keep asking questions.

“Fine,” he answered, “just fine.”

Yet, Pattadol’s brow furrowed. Not a good sign.

“Just fine?” She asked. Her voice went up a pitch. “It’s just fine? Really?”

“Really.”

She unlaced her fingers and spread out her hands as if gesturing to something, but all that surrounded them was Mithrun’s under-decorated living quarters. There was really nothing to gesture at besides the wooden cabinets and the bed. Mithrun waited, aware that she was picking through her piles of thoughts— probably thoughts mixed with screams of frustration— to find the right words.

Finally, Pattadol forced a shaken smile, “It’s clear to anyone that knows you that you’re in love with them, Captain.”

That was what she decided to say? It was a bit blunt for Pattadol’s usual style. Mithrun only shrugged, “Yeah, you’re right. It’s pretty obvious.”

“So why haven’t they noticed yet?”

“Why do you care?”

“Because I want you to be happy for once!” Pattadol snapped, but she then took a deep breath, “Sorry, Captain, I didn’t mean to sound that way. This is hard for me, talking so openly about these things… But it’s so frustrating to watch.”

Mithrun could understand that. While he personally wasn’t frustrated by the circumstances, he knew that the Canaries couldn’t stand watching his interactions with you. It wasn’t a big deal in the long run, in his opinion. They’d get over it.

“Thank you,” he answered.

“Do you have any ideas on how we can do that?”

“Do what?”

Pattadol’s eye twitched ever so slightly. Her fingers tensed like claws, and Mithrun felt the corner of his lips turn up in a barely-there smirk. But genuinely, he wasn’t sure what she referred to. Did she mean the part about him being happy, or the part about you being oblivious? She should’ve been more clear.

“About…” she hesitated. Obviously she wasn’t sure what she meant either. She then nodded as if deciding, “About everything. About the obliviousness, your happiness, etcetera.”

He didn’t know what the etcetera referred to, but didn’t care to ask. “You don’t have to do anything,” Mithrun assured her as he leaned back in the chair and folded his arms. The wood creaked slightly from the movement. Everything on this boat creaked, as was the nature of boats, he guessed.

“I would like to do something,” Pattadol nodded, determined. “We all would.”

A shrug, “Alright. Then do something.”

- Pattadol, over-achiever and top student and certified Girl Who Cares Too Much, takes that as a challenge.

- Cithis only joins because she thinks it’ll be funny.

- Fleki also only joins because she thinks it’ll be funny.

- And Lycion also also joins because he thinks it’ll be funny (though he does care on some level. Not really about you, but about Mithrun. And it’s painful to watch.)

- Otta is forced to join.

- The attempts are weak at first, like dipping a toe into the water to see how cold it is. Mithrun only has so much patience for interference with his life, so they have to be smart and tread carefully.

- Pattadol gives Mithrun a hint. “There’s some pretty flowers growing beside the road over there. You should give one to them!”

- “What would they need a flower for?”

- Mithrun asks that on purpose. He knows precisely what he’s doing. Yes, people generally like receiving flowers, he knows that. But he also believes that flowers are useless gifts.

- “Then what present do you suggest?” Pattadol asks.

- Mithrun has an idea. He gets you soap. Everybody uses soap (hopefully) It’s a useful gift, and if he gives you the same kind he uses then he’ll get some weird sick flicker of pleasure from having his scent on you. (He wisely chooses to not say that part aloud.)

You held the little bar of soap in your hands as if it were an injured baby bird you found on the ground. Yet your feelings towards it were far from protective or empathetic. This soap said something. It had a mouth and it used it to scream.

You met Mithrun’s flat gaze, “Soap…”

He nodded, “Yeah. Soap. It’s a gift for you.”

For you?

Mithrun continued, “It’s the same kind I use. Smells the same.”

It felt as if you’d swallowed a handful of pebbles and they all had gotten stuck in your throat. “Do you… think I’m stinky?”

You cursed yourself for even asking that. What a useless question. Obviously, he thought you stank! He gave you soap! He was trying to tell you something, being subtle and polite for once! Usually Mithrun would just say it bluntly, but he’d been working on his desires lately. Perhaps he’d also decided to embrace societal expectations? You weren’t sure. But soap. Soap!

You didn’t notice how Mithrun tensed. You didn’t see him quickly blink several times and tilt his head. You didn’t see the slight widening of his good eye. “No, I—“

“I’ll go use this right now,” you interrupted, “I’ll go wash away my stench so you can finally stand to be near me.”

Despite the horror, you were a bit proud of yourself. You’d taken a hint, maybe you were getting less oblivious.

- In your defense, a bar of soap is a weird gift.

- Alright. Mithrun admits it, he needs help. He’s not so prideful anymore that he won’t admit that he doesn’t know what to do.

- Pattadol is really triumphant about that but does her best not to show it.

- Plan B: make it so obvious that you have no choice but to realize his feelings.

“This has to be the most physically uncomfortable I’ve felt in a very long time,” Mithrun said as he tugged at the ends of the fancy, over-decorated blouse the Canaries had put him in. “I honestly prefer Cithis’s frilly dresses.”

Which was saying something. Mithrun had a preference? That was a good sign.

“It makes you look handsome,” Pattadol said.

“The only thing it makes me is itchy,” he corrected.

The Canaries had somehow found a blouse— not a shirt or tunic, a blouse— that made Mithrun feel something other than indifference. He usually didn’t care about what he wore, as long as it was comfortable, but the clothes they’d stuffed him into were offensive to human-kind, like vegan bacon.

It had a big frill on the front and puffy sleeves. It was somehow both too flowy and too tight at the same time. The trousers weren’t much better, digging into his legs. And the shoes…

Mithrun didn’t want to talk about the shoes.

It was clear to him that Fleki and Cithis had only contributed to the outfit because they thought it would be amusing. Good for them, he supposed. Pattadol seemed to genuinely like it, Otta looked horrified, and Lycion was in some in between state where he wanted to show pity but couldn’t quite stifle his giggles.

“Remind me again what the point of this is?” Mithrun asked with a sigh.

“We got them to agree to a date!” Pattadol said, grinning, “I said outright ‘it’s a date’ so there would be no confusion. I made it clear that the date was with you. Now, if you show up looking like a million gold with a bouquet of flowers, they’ll get the hint.”

Mithrun did not want to do that.

Mithrun rarely wanted to do anything, but this just felt wrong. In his opinion, the relationship between you and him would develop naturally in a way that fit both of your personalities. He didn’t mind waiting for you to realize his intentions, he had time. As long as you didn’t fall in love with someone else, and didn’t stop him from staring at you or touching you, then he wasn’t in a rush.

But since the Canaries insisted, seeming to think that this was the right course of action, he would go along with it. Maybe it would be an utter disaster and Pattadol would realize that she knew very little about relationships— especially a relationship involving Mithrun. He was aware enough of himself to know that it wouldn’t be conventional.

With his hair pulled back into a tight ponytail and the ridiculous outfit on, Mithrun entered the restaurant Pattadol had chosen. He found you immediately. You sat in a chair with your elbow on the table and your ankles crossed, waiting.

Mithrun held a bouquet of pink roses as he approached. You lit up when you saw him, but your brows then furrowed.

“Where’s Pattadol?” You asked.

His stride faltered, “She isn’t coming.”

“Oh,” you shrugged, “well since she set this up I assumed she’d be here.”

Why would she be here? It was a date Pattadol had set up for you and Mithrun specifically.

You probably didn’t know it was a date, he realized. Pattadol thought she’d been clear by saying ‘it’s a date’ but failed to realize that that was just a common phrase among people and meant nothing to no one.

Calm, he slid into the seat across from you and watched as you raised a brow, “What’re you wearing?” You asked.

“My team picked it out for me.”

“You look like you’re part of an opera or a ballet, like you’re about to stand beneath a balcony and start spouting poetry to your lover.”

That was a good description, actually. Those were the words Mithrun had been looking for earlier when he saw himself in the mirror.

He nodded, “Yep.” Then, wordlessly, he held out the bouquet to you.

Your eyes widened, “For me?”

“I’m handing them to you, aren’t I?”

Gingerly, you took the flowers and held the stem of the wrapped bouquet with both hands as you inspected each petal.

A flicker of surprising satisfaction ran through his chest. You liked the flowers. It made sense, most people liked flowers, even if he didn’t see why.

You dipped your head down toward them presumably to smell them, but your lips then parted and you dug your teeth into the nearest rose.

Mithrun froze.

You chewed on the rose, your nose wrinkling in disgust. You gave the flower a good shot, a proper taste, but it didn’t take long until you grabbed a napkin and spit up the pink slobbery mess into it.

“Sorry,” you sent him an apologetic smile and tried to hand the bouquet back to him, “they don’t taste that good, and I don’t think I could season or cook them in a way that would help.”

Mithrun knew he was staring. He knew he was making a face, slightly tilting his head down, intensity in his eye. The kind of face someone made when they were internally screaming.

He was not internally screaming, but he was thinking— about you, how your brain worked. And how it was so damn charming for some reason and all he wanted to do was kiss you until he was all you could think about.

He wanted something. The feeling was sweet, a shot of adrenaline, one of Fleki’s drugs. Addictive. Like the slow drip of honey. He could survive off that want for ages.

Wordlessly, Mithrun threw the bouquet over his shoulder to get rid of it. Judging by the gasp that followed, it probably hit someone in the head.

Loving you was as natural to him as breathing.

- Mithrun decides to not let the Canaries interfere any longer. He was wrong earlier in thinking he needed their help. He doesn’t.

- Also, watching them go insane over your obliviousness and his lack of communication provides a good bit of entertainment.

- When he finally decides to give into that all-consuming, new, exciting desire and kiss you, your response is, “But I wasn’t casting a spell, no reason to try and stop me.”

- God, he adores you.

- He takes kisses whenever he wants them, with no care about what you think his intention is.

- After a certain kiss that involves tongue and teeth and fingers digging into your waist, you start to openly wonder… Are you in a relationship with Mithrun?

“Yes,” Mithrun didn’t even glance up at you, remaining unphased by your rather serious question, “We’re in a relationship.”

He continued to jot down notes about a monster he saw, as if he’d just casually answered a question about the weather. ‘Is it going to rain today?’ ‘Yeah looks like it.’

You gulped, “How long?”

“A year now,” he kept writing. Truthfully, he’d been expecting this. A flash of disappointment crossed his mind; there goes one of his hobbies, watching the Canaries have a crisis over his love life.

You buried your face in your hands. Mithrun stopped writing and patted your head as if comforting a dog.

- The Canaries are pleased that this is over. But actually, they’re going to have to watch you not realize it when you’re engaged to the Captain.

- At your wedding you’re in regular clothes. Someone asks why and you say “Mithrun told me we’re going to a wedding. He didn’t say it was ours.”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

#dungeon meshi #asks #mithrun #delicious in dungeon #mithrun of the house of kerensil #mithrun x reader #dunmeshi #dungeon meshi x reader #kabru x reader #kabru #kabru of utaya #x reader #reader insert #my writing #gn reader #oblivious reader

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melanchoire · 3 months ago

Note

bratty student wony who has her ways with teacher!reader to get her to fuck her like she has always dreamed

cw: age gap, fingering, spanking.

student!wnyoung who seems to have as her only goal for this school year to piss you off and be a complete pain in the ass for you 😩 typical student who thinks the classroom is a beauty salon; constantly fixing her hair with subtle movements during classes, holding a hand mirror and admiring her makeup and checking that it’s perfect while you’re explaining during class… sometimes she takes the liberty of taking her makeup case out of your backpack, applying mascara to her eyelashes when she feels they don’t look long enough or lip gloss to her lips when she sees them as dull

qnd she seems to be trying to test your patience, because besides having inappropriate behavior for a classroom, she is also a chatterbox! talking to her deskmate, other times turning around to talk to her classmates who sit behind her, or even talking to those sitting at the other end of the classroom

it doesn’t matter if wonyoung sits in the front row or in the corners of the room, she will always find a way to be a nuisance 😊

scolding wonyoung in the middle of a class because she was using her phone and watching videos at a loud volume, completely interrupting your reading and eventually causing your patience to run out and you to explode. she was expecting a simple scolding and maybe a lecture about her unacceptable behavior, of course, until you tell her you want to talk to her after school about her attitude…

the conversation ended with wonyoung bending over your desk, her uniform skirt lifted up over her hips, exposing her ass to your eyes 🫠 of course your way of talking to her about her behavior and arguing about how she is disrespectful is just about your palm landing on her butt and and slapping her asscheeks hard, leaving the mark of your hand complete in a bright red tone on her pale skin 😵‍💫

wonyoung would be wrong if she said she wasn’t enjoying this at all 🫢 she always did things to annoy you with the purpose of making you angry because in some way or another seeing you angry was something that she found attractive?? call her sick or whatever, but every time you look at her with fire in your eyes, inside that little head of hers there are only thoughts of you fucking her at that exact moment

and she's not entirely wrong because there's a small, satisfied smile on her face when she feels you pull her panties to the side, being aware that she is so close to having her pussy fucked 😁

although her ego goes down to underground levels when instead of directly inserting your fingers into her pussy and starting to fuck her, you choose to slide the tips of your fingers all over her slit, tracing her folds and making imaginary circles around her clit 😓 she realizes that things couldn’t go perfectly! but not really…

her typical mean popular girl persona falling apart the second she starts begging you to please fuck her, pushing her hips back against your hand and trying to receive some of the contact she is craving 🥺 you would have liked to be able to play with her a little more, but seeing her being so cute and submissive with you was something that somehow touched your heart

but she gets cheeky again when she whines and whimpers loudly as you quickly and roughly thrust your fingers in and out of her pussy 😭 being unable to contain her noises because even though she was trying so hard to close her mouth and just take what you were giving her, she was physically and mentally incapable of doing so! even though that wasn’t something that bothered you anyway, it somehow fed your ego and let you know that your “rebellious” student was nothing more than a slut craving your attention 💕 but yes, you had to make her try to be a little more quiet and careful because fucking a student could jeopardize your title as a teacher! however, you didn’t mind taking risks if it was these

magically, wonyoung started to be a good girl with good manners during your classes, always paying attention, doing her homework, and participating during classes ✨ her friends would think that she is just putting effort into her studies because her parents probably told her that if she wants to be able to go out and party and and having her whims she must have good grades in school, they without knowing that if she is a good student in your subject, each of her good grades will be rewarded with a good fuck from you 😉

#wonyoung #wonyoung x fem reader #wonyoung x reader #wonyoung smut #jang wonyoung #jang wonyoung x fem reader #jang wonyoung x reader #jang wonyoung smut #ive #ive x fem reader #ive x reader #ive smut

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algernonagon · 1 year ago

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Steph: I don’t think Jason likes me very much.

Duke: Huh? What makes you say that?

Steph: He cut my grapple line, just cause I tried to pass over Crime Alley!!

Tim: Eh. Jason doesn’t really like anyone. I wouldn’t take it personal. Just be glad he didn’t shoot at you.

Duke: Are we thinking of the same Jason right now?

Tim: Is there some other Jason we should know about?

Duke: Look, I’m not saying I don’t believe you guys, it’s just hard to picture. Look, here he comes now.

Jason, dapping Duke up: Narrows! You coming to book club tomorrow?

Duke: Wouldn’t miss it for the world.

Jason: Glad to hear it, and don’t be afraid to bring your own work, too. I’ve seen your writing, it’s powerful. Really. I’ve gotta bounce, but you think about it, alright?

Duke: Yeah, yeah…See you, Park Row.

Tim:

Steph:

Tim & Steph: Hey What The Fuck.

#this post brought to you by #Jason and Duke both being literature buffs #also I think Jason would straight up have no problems with Duke #joker victim solidarity #if Luke and Duke are the #flyboys #Jason and Duke are #clownpunchers #anyways. tags time #batfam #jason todd #duke thomas #tim drake #stephanie brown #chatterbox behavior

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manias-wordcount · 1 year ago

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Just Hair (Jinx x Reader)

𝗔/𝗡: 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝘀 𝗮 𝗿𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝗺𝘆 𝗾𝘂𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘃!

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚?

She’s usually not this…quiet.

Well. Maybe that’s a weird thing to have. Sure, she gives the impression of a chatterbox. Someone who loves the sound of her own voice. Someone who can’t stand to be ignored or cast aside. You’d be lying if you said those weren’t your immediate thoughts about her when you first met her.

But when you think about it, it’s really not like she’s talking all the time. It’s not like she says everything in a shout or a yell or a scream. She’s not loud and explosive and in your face every waking moment of the day. In fact, sometimes you think it’s others that do the talking for her. People who rile her up. People who she riles up. Her footsteps when she wants to be seen and make a scene. The footsteps that come running towards her whenever she’s seen and there’s about to be a scene. The explosives and explosions that she creates. The explosives and explosions that she’s drawn to. It’s all so loud. You associate her loud. She is loud.

Even when she’s not the one opening her mouth. So you suppose that’s why you’re so curious as to why she’s being so calm and so still for you right now. She usually isn’t like this. You don’t associate her with behaviors like this. And you just can’t help but wonder: why.

After all, all you’re doing is laying her head in your lap and brushing through her hair. Not anything important. Not anything crazy. So why?

Why?

You think about it as you continue your actions. Your eyes sweep around Jinx’s hideout, hoping it’ll give you some type of clue. The dolls she made a while back are still there. A not-so-successful project is strewn about a makeshift coffee table. One you distinctly remember helping her paint (and then later spray paint) not too long ago. But no dice. So you turn your attention back onto her.

The girl who’s always on your mind.

It’s an odd sight, in your opinion. But a beautiful one at the exact time. You’re both on an old mattress. A nicer one in your opinion. You’re sitting up, legged crossed and back straight towards one edge of the mattress while Jinx lays across your lap, head cradled by your thighs. Her signature braids are undone and long blue hair is just about everywhere in your vision as you take your time while running the brush across every single strand you have access to. And it all connects down back to her. And every time you look at her face, you can see the same expression there. Eyes closed. Face relaxed. No frowns. No worries. None of those things. Just pure bliss. Pure, pure bliss.

It truly is a foreign sight to you. Seeing her so at peace. You would have assumed she was sleeping if you didn’t know her so well. That’s why you’re so hesitant to break the silence. So hesitant to break the stillness that sits between the two of you. But you have to know. You just have to know…

Why?

And so, your mouth parts finally, deciding that it’s best to come right out about it. And that’s the thing. There’s a question in there, hanging on your tongue. Dancing on your lips. It’s there. But it doesn’t come out. Not quite yet anyways. You’ve learned to be very careful with your words around her. Very careful with your questions. In the years you’ve been with friends with her, you’ve learned how fragile a hair-trigger can be. You learned how random her trigger can be as well. With things you never known. With things you’ve never expected. So you stay there, and you ponder. Thinking long, thinking hard about what you want to ask. What you want to say. And by the time the perfect sentence forms in your mind…

“This is nice…”

…she beats you to the punch.

“What is?” You ask Jinx in response to her off-hand comment. She takes a deep breath in and releases it slowly. And then another. And another. And another. And another. Rinse. Repeat. But in all honesty? You’re fine with this. Never once had you stopped looking down at your friend’s expression with a curious gaze. Never once had your fingers stopped running the bristles of the hairbrush through her long hair- carefully making its way through tiny little knots here and there.

Your question can wait if she’s willing to share. Anything in your life could wait for her honestly. Perhaps she knows that about you. Perhaps that’s why she’s taking her time with her answer right now. You have a feeling you’ll never know. She’s always been an enigma after all.

But she’s your enigma. And she’ll always be.

“Nobody has brushed my hair in a long, long time.” She finally says after a long period of silence. Her voice is as quiet and as calm as her demeanor is. But there’s nothing scary about this. No silent storm here- not even in the far distance. You’re happy about that. You want it to stay that way. She deserves that. She deserves this. “So this is nice.”

“No one?” You question, almost absently, after a little while. It’s something to fill the void, really. Something to make her feel acknowledged and seen and heard- even when you don’t quite have a response for her at the moment. “Really?”

“I don’t play well with others,” She reminds you, a playful lilt to her voice. And although her eyes are still closed. There’s an almost proud smile starting to tug at the corner of her lips- unable to stay hidden for long. “Except for you.”

Well…I’m glad.” At the mention of you being the exception in you are her life, you can’t help but smile your own smile. Even if her eyes aren’t open to see it. You can’t help it. The words hit straight to your heart, even if she didn’t mean anything much by them. “That makes me special.”

“You’ve always been special to me.”

Her eyes are open now. Her gaze is on you. And even though her dark eyes are intense, you don’t feel like you’re in danger. You don’t feel like you’re about to be hunted or stalked. You don’t feel like you’re prey. So you hold her gaze. And you try not to think about just how soft it is now that her eyes are on you. Looking at you like you’re the most precious thing in the world to her right now. And you want to be. Is it selfish to want that? Is it selfish to want that from her when you were once afraid of her too? Is it selfish to want that when you don’t even know her every secret yet? Is it selfish? Is it?

“Yeah…”

It might be. It might be selfish. But by now, the brush in your hand has run over this section more times than you can count already. But you like just how smoothly it travels through her long, pretty hair. You like how it makes her smile a little more. You like how it makes her feel relaxed. Happy. Loved. Cherished. So you’ll do it a couple more times. Just to be sure. Just to be sure. It’s the very least you could do. She deserves that. She deserves this.

“You’ve always been special to me too.”

And you’re more than happy to give it to her.

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squoxle · 8 months ago

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[9] • WHY DO YOU HATE ME? - H. KAI

skater!bully!huening kai x loner!junkie!reader

plot: working alongside your ex-best friend, who's also a full-time asshole, turns hot after a heated conversation... | wc: 3.9k | cw: angst, mentions of death and suicide, drug and alcohol abuse, other sensitive topics, smut

From your point of view, life continued for three reasons;

1. For your family…the only friends you had.

2. Another episode of you current obsession, and

3. The next cigarette...or cancer stick as your next door neighbor liked to call it.

Sometime your third reason helped you the most. One puff relived the stress and every one after that made life a little easier. Oftentimes, smoking was like an escape for you. A way to cope with the shitty hand the universe had dealt you.

You lived in a cheap apartment. And all of the money you made was split between you and your parents. There was a shared belief in your family that the children should take care of their parents when they move out. Assisting in whatever way they could.

This belief is what compelled you to send money to your family. It wasn’t a burden. You knew that if you ever needed a place to stay that you were always welcome back home. The only problem being that you couldn’t shake your smoking habit. And that was the reason you had to go in the first place.

You seen all the stupid YouTube videos about what happens to your lungs when you smoke and how much money you could save if you weren’t buying packs of cigarettes weekly, but none of that mattered to you. After the death of your only friend near the end of senior year, life seemed almost impossible.

Meaningless and empty without Eve by your side.

You held onto those three reasons because everything in you wished for one more day with your friend. Just one more day to tell her how much you loved her. And at this point, the sweet taste of death was the only thing separating you from her.

You grew up as an only child for most of your life. By the time your mom had your little brother, you were already 14 years old. Around that time you met Eve.

You had just started high school and up until freshman year, you were known to be a loner.

You walked into your first class of the day, sitting in the chair furthest to the back of the classroom and that’s when you met her for the first time.

“I’m Eve,” she smiled, extending her hand to you. The two of you were like complete opposites. She was warm, cheery, and full of life. You on the other hand felt like the world had been against you since birth.

One more detail about Eve is that she was a huge chatterbox. Since the two of you rode the bus together, you never felt alone. The darkness that was your life felt a little brighter with her around. Even your mom noticed the positive change in your behavior.

“You sure look happy,” your mom raised her brow as you looked at your phone.

“Yeah, I met this really cool girl at school today. Her name is Eve,” you smiled.

“Well maybe you should invite her over sometime. Anyone that can make you smile like that must be really special.”

And she was…Eve was really special to you.

You could talk to her about anything. She wasn’t just an expert at talking, she was also a great listener. Sometimes her advice wasn’t the best, but you were both kids at the time.

You just wish that she would’ve talked to you the day before…she killed herself. You always blamed yourself for her death. There had to have been a sign that she was hurting, but maybe you were too selfish to see it.

You had both started senior year together and all you ever talked about were how the two of you would move out together and graduate from the same college. You saw a life with her…and all of that was over in one night.

You think about it every day. What makes it even worse is that your co-worker is the biggest asshole you’d ever known.

You were never brave enough to stand up to him. Maybe because you felt like the fight just wasn’t worth it. But he knew Eve too. The three of you were friends before her death. Your past friendship is probably another reason why you wouldn’t speak up.

When you really think about it…a lot changed after she died. You started smoking and Kai seemed to hate you for no reason.

You never knew why…

“You’re locking up tonight,” he said as he slammed the cash register.

“What?!”

“You heard me,” he spat, turning to you. “You’re locking up tonight because I’m heading out early.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? I have a life too y’know.”

“Do I look like I care?” You stared at him blankly before he continued, “Exactly, just do what the fuck I told you,” he swatted his hand before walking to the back to grab his things.

“You can’t expect me to do all of this by myself,” the gas station you worked at was extremely understaffed and you two were often the only ones at work.

“You can handle it,” he leaned down, picking up his skateboard before heading toward the front door.

“This is so fucked up,” you slammed you hand against the counter. “You’re such a fucking dick,” you mumbled, rolling your eyes.

“You know what’d be really fucked up?” He asked softly walking back over to the register. “If you had a little accident at work,” he tilted his head to the side. “It’d be pretty hard to come to work if you slipped and hurt yourself. Wouldn’t it?”

You lowered your gaze, afraid to say something stupid and not in the mood to hear anymore of his threats. You knew better than to push him…he’d done a number of things to torture you.

You thought back to the one time he took your phone and locked you in the storage closet over night because you wouldn’t stay after hours and wax the floors.

You watched as he walked out with his skateboard tucked under his arm. You sighed deeply, striking your lighter as you lit your cigarette.

You parted your lips, letting the clouds of grey smoke fill the air as you took out the trash before turning off all the lights and locking up for the night.

Without Eve your life felt like Groundhog Day. A continuous, endless, hell-like loop of waking up, clocking in, and clocking out to do it all over again. The most diversity you had in your life was a new assignment.

Oh and to make life even better, Kai went to the same school as you. A cheap community college where you could earn your associates before taking out student loans to get your bachelors.

Sometimes you wondered if life ever got any better from here…

A few days later, you were working the cash register with Kai when he decided to take his break in the middle of the 12 o’clock rush. “Perfect,” you sighed sarcastically. “Just fucking perfect,” you rolled your eyes as you prepared yourself to deal with the line of customers that had wrapped around one of the aisles.

“You should smile more often,” a man smiled. He looked to be about 40 or 50.

“Excuse me?” You asked, wondering why he would even say something like that.

“I’m just saying,” he shrugged pulling out a $20. “Life is beautiful. There’s a lot to smile about.”

“Right,” you scoffed.

“You should try it sometime,” he smiled as you handed him the receipt.

“M’kay,” you shook you head, wanting nothing more than for him to just take his shit and leave.

“Thank you so much sir for pointing that out,” Kai came out grinning ear to ear like the fucking Cheshire Cat.

“You’re welcome. I just know how much a smile can change the working environment for everyone.”

“Exactly,” Kai nodded. “____, I don’t wanna have to write you up for this because I know how much you need this job. But you’re gonna have to change your attitude.”

You sighed as you rubbed the spot between your eyebrows. Another detail that you hated to remember and often forgot was that Kai was your manager…and the reason you got this job in the first place.

Ironically you started working here during your last year of high school. You planned to earn some money for college to give you a bit of a head start, which only somewhat worked out in your favor.

To be honest, the pay here was pretty good and better than any other option. You assumed this had a lot to do with the low staff.

Anyways, you were hoping that Kai was only joking about writing you up until you were called into the office for a staff meeting on Friday.

“Look, ____. We’re already very low on staff as I’m sure you know. And it’s hard to keep customers coming back if you’re out there looking like you want a bullet in your head,” the owner said, folding his hands.

“That’s probably because I do,” you mumbled to yourself.

“All I’m saying is, try to look at least somewhat pleasant. You don’t have to go overboard, just be natural, okay?”

“Yeah, okay," you shook your head as Kai sat next to you.

"Thanks again, Kai. I really appreciate you for bringing this to my attention. I've been noticing a decline in customer reviews and now I know why."

"No problem," he smiled giving you a look that made you wanna knock his teeth out.

Kai closed the door to the main office as the two of you walked down the hallway.

“I can’t believe you actually fucking ratted me out,” you spat.

“I’m only doing what’s best for the—“

“Drop the fucking act,” you sneered. “We both know you don’t really give a damn. Because if you did I wouldn’t be locking up at night by myself. You’d be there helping me out and not somewhere just jerking off. Y’know what? Maybe I should go tell the boss about what you’re doing since we’re in the bitching business,” you turned around, but just as you tried walking away Kai grabbed your arm, pulling you back and throwing you to the ground.

“Don’t be such a stupid fucking bitch,” he spat.

“You did the same thing to me,” you brushed yourself off as you stood to your feet only to be pushed back down to the ground.

“If I were you I’d quit while I was ahead,” he knelt down.

“I’m tired of you treating me like shit, Kai. I don’t know what your fucking problem is, but I didn’t do anything to deserve this.”

“If you really believe that you’re even dumber than I thought you were.”

“Fuck you,” you spat, looking him dead in the eye. You don’t know what came over you, but you had never been brave enough to stand up for yourself.

“I’d watch my tongue if I were you,” he pressed his forearm against your neck. “Karma can be a real bitch y’know,” your eyes watered as he held you against the wall. You felt weak and powerless against him and you hated it, but there really was nothing you could do about it. Or at least that’s how you felt.

Your bottom lip quivered as he slowly let you go. You sucked in your breath, catching a tear with your sleeve before running off to the bathroom. You cried in there, more than you had in a really long time.

And that evening, after closing early, you smoked through a whole pack. You were on the last one as Kai was walking back to the store. You assumed he’d forgotten something inside as he unlocked the door.

Catching the sight of you, smoking behind the register, he walked up and slapped the cigarette out of your mouth, casting ashes across the floor. “What the fuck?” You spat, picking up the bud before sticking it back between your lips.

“You know that shit could kill you right?”

“I already feel dead,” you hummed, pulling out your lighter. “This is the only thing that makes me feel alive,” you continued, striking the lighter.

“Well you can die on your own time,” he snatched the cigarette out of your pursed lips. “I don’t wanna be the one cleaning up after your corpse when your lungs collapse.”

He looked in the small trash can underneath the register where he saw more than 15 burnt buds and an empty packet. “Did you smoke this whole pack?”

“Obviously,” you rolled your eyes.

“Are you trying to kill yourself?”

“You wouldn’t care anyway. You obviously hate me.”

“Don’t let me catch you smoking again,” he spat.

“You’re not my fucking dad. You can’t tell me what to do,” you reached to try and get your last cigarette back as he shoved you into the counter, putting the bud out on the countertop beside you.

“Next time it’ll be your hand,” he sneered. “Now, clean this shit up and get this disgusting fucking smell out of here,” you forcefully wiped the tear from your eye as he walked away. Grabbing whatever he needed before walking out again.

Sometimes you wondered if this was why Kai always messed with you, because he got a kick out of seeing you cry.

As sadistic as it sounded, it couldn’t be any closer to the truth which you learned later that week one night when Kai told you to close by yourself again. The only difference was that he was somewhat tipsy at this point.

He had been drinking a lot more after the altercation you had in the hallway. You wondered if it was because he felt guilty, finally seeing the error of his ways.

“Can you at least take out the fucking trash before you go?” You spat as he walked to the back putting his stuff away. “Please,” you threw your hand up.

“If I do it will you shut your big fucking mouth?”

“Yes,” you rolled your eyes. He was in an even pissier mood when he drank, but surprisingly he was more useful. He’d do almost anything you asked him to do as long as you bitched about it enough.

“Thank you,” you smiled as he mumbled to himself throwing two bags over his shoulder, and dragging another two out the back door with him.

You heard bottles clanking outside as you shut down the register. Another loud crashing sound shook you up as you called out Kai’s name. You were feeling a bit annoyed at this point. “I don’t even make that amount of noise when I take out the trash,” you sighed.

More noises and no reply from Kai led you to go outside and check on him yourself, leaving your phone in the counter. “What the hell are you doing out here?” You spat as you saw him throwing glass bottles against the wall with bloody hands.

“Kai! Stop it!” You shouted as he shielded his ear with his shoulder.

“Can you stop fucking yelling at me and just go back inside,” he rolled eyes, launching another bottle at the wall.

“No because after you’re done fucking around like a jackass I’m gonna have to come out here and clean this shit up.”

“No you’re not,” he hummed.

“Yes I am.”

“No you’re not,” his words slurred together at this point.

“Yes. I am.”

“No you’r—“ you ripped the bottle out of his bloody grasp.

“You’re way too fucking drunk right now. Just get the hell out of here and go home already.”

“Where are you going,” he asked sounding slightly frustrated.

You started to walk back inside, “I’m gonna go get a broom to clean this shit up,” you sighed. “Someone has too,” you reached your hand out to open the door only to jump, quickly turning around after hearing rapid footsteps approach you.

Kai had pinned you against the door, slamming it shut as he held another bottle in his hand. He broke it beside you head and held it to your neck. “If you scream I’ll cut your throat open right here,” he slurred.

“Get off of me you drunk bastard!” You yelled, squirming in an attempt to free yourself from his grasp. He slapped you in the face with his bloody hand before clenching your jaw.

Tears filled your eyes as you stamped your feet against the ground. You beat against his chest as your arms were stuck in one position. “Kai!” You cried. “Stop it! Please,”

“Why should I? You’re not my mom,” he pressed against you harder, crushing your hands beneath his weight.

“Why do you hate me?” You choked on tears as you couldn’t hold them back anymore.

“Shh!” He put a bloody finger against your lips.

“No, I want you to tell me why you hate me so much. It doesn’t make sense. We used to be friends before…before Eve killed herself,” it was silent for a moment as Kai lowered his head, he body started to tremble as a tear dropped from his face.

“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” He shouted repeatedly slamming your body against the metal door, dropping the broken bottle.

“You’re hurting me, Kai! Stop it!” You yelled as you felt a pain tugging at your bones. “Please,” your voice shook.

He rested his hands on your shoulders before falling to your knees. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “God, I’m so fucking sorry,” he cried.

You knelt down and lifted his teary face. “It’s okay, Kai. I miss her too,” you sniffled before wrapping your arms around him.

He pulled away gently, looking up at you with teary eyes. “I’m really sorry, _____,” he apologized. “I’ve been such a dick…”

“And I don’t even understand why…”

“D’you remember the day before Eve died?”

“Of course I do…I think about it almost everyday.”

“What if I told you it’s my fault she’s dead…”

“Wh-what do you mean?”

“She called me…”

“She did?! Why didn’t you ever tell me? What did she say?”

“I didn’t know how to tell you…but she told me to be happy…”

“I don’t understand. Why did she say that?”

“Did you ever notice how she was around you? Like the way she behaved. Did she ever seem like she liked you as more than just a friend?”

“I-uhh…I never paid attention to it.”

“Yeah well she really liked you, but when she found out I liked you too, she started to back off some. Things really took a turn for the worse when her parents heard us arguing one night—“

“What were you arguing about?”

“She had started hurting herself…”

“Like cutting?”

“Yeah…and I guess it didn’t get any better…I should’ve told someone,” he said softly as tears trickled down his cheeks.

“You can’t blame yourself for that.”

“But if I would’ve told someone she might still be here…”

“We don’t know that for sure.”

“It could’ve helped her…she also called me a few nights before she died and told me that her parents found out about her crush on you…I don’t really know how…but they did and she was really upset about that. Do you think her parents are the reason she killed herself?”

“We can’t know for sure…she didn’t really leave us any way of knowing why. But I think you should listen to her and be happy. Just look at the way we’ve separated…”

Kai looked down at his bloody hands, “____…”

“Yes?”

Kai cradled your face in his hands before kissing you on the lips. One kiss turned to three and the next thing you knew his lips were all over your neck as he groped your tit in his hand.

Not a single word was spoken as breathless moans took the place of speech. You grabbed his hair in your hand, untying the small bun he wore as you tousled his hair. He slipped his tongue into your mouth as he pulled you closer.

You pulled his head away as his lips fell to your chest. “What?”

“Don’t you think this is kinda fast?”

“We can think about that in the morning,” he hummed, kissing your neck again.

You held Kai’s hand as he took you inside. He picked you up, placing you on the metal cabinet as he kissed you, unbuttoning his pants.

“What about a condom?”

“Do I look like the type of guy to just have a condom in his wallet?”

“I…uh…”

“Exactly. Don’t worry…I’ll pull out,” he shrugged as you pulled your pants down. You watched as his dick sprang out of his boxers.

You climbed back onto the cabinet, spreading your legs as he stepped between them, lining his tip up with your entrance. “Ngh!” You moaned as he pushed through.

“Mmm,” he hummed feeling your walls contract around him. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, holding onto him as he pumped into you. He nuzzled his face into yours, bringing your lips back to his as he pushed his tongue into your mouth.

You moaned as you felt yourself coming close to finishing. You threw your head back as he sucked onto your neck. You squeezed your thighs around him, pulling him closer as you climaxed.

"Fuck," he swore.

"What?"

"I'm gonna cum," he bit his lip as he started to pull back.

"I don't care," you pulled him closer, kissing him again.

"But I thought you--"

"We'll think about it in the morning," you whispered as he pumped every drop of his hot load into you.

Everything from here became a blur until the two of you woke up in the backroom. You were laying between his legs as he rested his back against the metal cabinet.

"Shit," you spat as your eyes shot open. "We have to be ready to open in like 30 minutes," you said, scrambling to your feet.

"No way," Kai rubbed his eyes, looking up to see the analog clock on the wall, confirming what you just said.

The two of you scrambled to open up. He wiped off the cabinet from the two of you last night and you worked together to restock the coffee station and check the slushee maker.

"I'll take care of the mess outside," he chuckled, ruffling his hair. You handed him the hair tie that was wrapped around your wrist. It was the same one you took off of him last night. "Thanks," he smiled before kissing you on the cheek.

"Hey, for the record," you hollered. "Whatever happened last night doesn't change anything between us. I still hate you," you smirked.

"I hate you too," he smiled before heading out the back door.

What happened from this day on is hard to explain. It was like the two of you went back to being friends, but something else tugged at your heart aside from the memory of your dead friend. You were starting to like Kai and you could tell that he liked you too, but dating each other just didn't feel right.

As far as sex was concerned, it hadn't happened again since the first time you did it, which was about 3 weeks ago. Even though you did have the occasional makeout session that never seemed to last long enough.

Maybe there were 4 reasons why life continued for you...and he was definitely one of them.

a.n.: I wanted to add more detail to this one, but I didn’t want it to be too long. Sorry if it feels rushed.

𝒦𝒾𝓃𝓀𝓉𝑜𝒷𝑒𝓇 𝑀𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉

❀ Thank you all so much for reading! Make sure to check out other works on my masterlist!

@chlorinecake

@wonbinisbabygurl

@nishiimuranights

@wildflowermooon

@heeseungshim

@ramyeonzprincess

@bangchans-gf5

@wand3rlustm3

@heeseunghee7

@norihoyeon

@gacktsa

@hyunj00

@mimikittysblog (not sure how much you're into moody kai lol)

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eccentricallygothic · 9 months ago

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You get sick but you hate the doctor and his healing remedies so Daddy!Ari Levinson/Andy Barber…

Oh my God?

The man is like an actual parent?

Like, sometimes you have to remind him that he's your Daddy and not your Dad (and get punished for it)!

Whether it is Andy or Ari, both are such naggy old men and so fucking sharp at picking up the smallest of anomalies and differences in your behavior and condition because of their jobs that it is annoying.

For instance;

One dark eyebrow raises at you when he notices your chatterbox is uncharacteristically quiet today. Because -not that he is complaining or ungrateful- usually your voice runs his old man ears raw. And when you avoid his eyes as you take way more interest in his preparation of breakfast because your baby sloth ass could never, his Daddy antennas are up and steering around in vigilance before you can blink your next.

You just nuzzle closer into your stuffie and suppress a cough because the pain in your head and nose is nothing compared to what his treatment entails. In your little mind, dealing with this is better than Daddy finding out you're sick.

The older man puts down the spatula and since his hands are all you let yourself see, it is impossible for you not to notice when he puts them on his hips. You chew on your bottom lip and stare at his belt for a few moments while praying hard that he resumes his work but your Daddy can be just as stubborn as you.

And when you do look up, his suspicion is making his burly appearance even more intimidating than it already is. You cannot help but gulp. You give him a confused look with a little shrug of your shoulders. Unfortunately for you, the two of you have been over this one too many times.

“Say something.” The simple command comes out a menacing order because of the baritone quality of his voice and the way his muscular arms cross over his broad chest serves only to make you feel even smaller. He raises an eyebrow.

You shrug in pretend puzzlement again, eyes looking at him like he is being weird when you are the one giving yourself away. Your voice is one of the first things to change when you are nearing a flu or a similar sickness so after you realized that it is what your Daddy catches on, your great idea was simply not to speak.

Sadly for you, you can never outsmart your old man.

“I want you to say something, now.” You dumbly sign him ‘what?’ and completely damn yourself but you're too small and slow to realize it just yet.

It is painfully obvious, honestly. You are hugging your sickness time teddy that your Daddy jokingly named Mr. Sicky because of how he only gets attention when you're under the weather, your nose is red, your eyes are glazed and your body that curls in on itself on the kitchen island chair looks like it's on the verge of crying like a little baby because of how sensitive you tend to become.

“Okay, fine” he puts the kitchen towel that was hanging by his shoulder down on the counter and kills the stove before walking around the barrier separating the two of you, big arms reaching to grab a hold of you. “Come here” your eyes widen and though your heavy head pounds from how you jump off your seat, a painful escape is better than meddies and his old man remedies.

But alas!

Your grizzly of a Daddy is too fast.

You furiously shake your head and kick your limbs like an agitated hedgehog to try and break free from your cruel captor, still refusing to utter a single syllable and trying to avoid his prying hand so he can't find his way to your throat.

“Stay still” he deeply grunts, easily holding you up in the air and against his strong chest with an ironhold around your waist all by one arm.

You growl and bare your teeth like an angry pupper trying to bark at an adult husky.

“Ughhh—”

“There we go~” the older man drawls out in satisfaction when he locates the damage with the use of his old man methods by feeling for swelling under your jaw and behind your ears. “I knew it.”

“Let go, meanie!” He hums in triumphant sarcasm when you finally let your nasal voice loose. “Ugh!” You try to crane your head away from him, legs furiously fighting a lost battle. “I don't like you!”

Your Daddy is so not impressed and completely unbothered. “Too bad.” The sheer lack of effort it takes him to hook your protestant form to his hip as he walks to the sink to fill up a pot with water is in stark contrast to the energy you're putting into your unsuccessful escape.

“I dun want! I dun want! I dun want!” He doesn't even grunt as he places the pot on the stove and turns it on to boil with his free hand. “NO!” Next he leans over the counter to phone your usual doctor just because he does not like to use medication carelessly. “This abusive!” You are so tired and sore that you cannot even properly speak but you swear to yourself that you will die before you let him put you in that stupid steam treatment that always suffocates you.

(You will lose because your brutish bear Daddy will tightly hold you against him under the blanket until the steam forces your blocked pathways open but a brat can dream)

“Babies are too small to know or decide what's right for them” he is slightly distracted as he softly squints at the dialer like the oldie he is. “Now shush so Daddy can speak to Uncle Steve.” That is, the name of your Doctor who is another meanie because he's besties with your villain of a Daddy. He always has great fun recommending you ewie gargles.

“Nu…” You whisper in despair as your words melt into a cough. All you can do is watch your blurred reflection in one of the fridge doors as you hang sideways, the deep voice of your Daddy filling your ears as he props the phone against his shoulder to take out ingredients for one of the many soups you will be cursed to for the next few days.

You hate soups!

Especially the sick time ones!

Daddy always tells you you're being dramatic but he will never be able to fool you! You just know he puts extra ewie healing things -probably recommendations of his be(a)stie!- in them that always make the soups taste so old man recipe-like! You puff your cheeks and glare at the stupid celery stalks that he places upon the chicken container.

You may be sick, but that will not stop you from going to war before your old man can put a spoon of that in your mouth!

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nerdraging4point0 · 9 months ago

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Power Play // Chapter 10 // Hockeyplayer!Noah AU

Header by @ladyveronikawrites

Tropes and tags: RPF:AU hockey player romance, angsty romance, hidden relationship, forbidden relationship, smutty, MF, multiple POV. Content Warning: angsty romance, hockey player shenanigans, locker room talk, smutty, aggressive hockey players, PinV, MF relationship, possessive male, protective male.

This work below is fictionalized ideas and stories involving real people but does not directly reflect their thoughts, feelings, or behaviors. Please keep in mind that this is a work of fiction.

The gloves are off.

With a frustrated roar, I tear off all my protective gear flinging it across the ice, the clatter of plastic and leather echoing through the stadium as my helmet slams down, sending shards of ice flying in all directions. Chest heaving, I square up against the taller defenseman, my nose nearly grazing the other man's chin as my eyes glare upwards.

The defenseman's face is flushed, his stringy hair matted with sweat that was rapidly freezing in the frigid air. Shoving with the full force of my palms, I refused to be intimidated by the size difference, adrenaline coursing through my veins I shoved again. His papa make contact with my chest sending me backwards and I'm forced to brace myself to keep from toppling over, refusing to back down.

Rage coursed through my veins as I skated furiously towards the other player, my voice erupting in a guttural yell. "You wanna fucking put hands on me, bitch?!"

I had seen him deliberately slap the puck directly at my face as I was guarding the goal, and the sheer maliciousness of the action had ignited a fire within me. That blatant cheap shot was clearly no accident - he was looking for a fight, and I was more than willing to oblige. In that moment, all I could think about was retaliating, of taking my stick and using it to break his face open. The opportunity presented itself when he checked me hard into the boards, causing me to lose my grip on my stick.

Now my hands grasp at fistfuls of his jersey as I yank him down to face level. My balled fist then comes into forceful contact with his cheek as he turns his head.

I continue to throw punches until he reaches up, his hand making contact on my skull just behind my ear. The impact sends ringing in my ears and makes me slightly dizzy. But I refused to let up, my grip on his jersey tightening as we both tumbled down to the ice in a tangled mess of limbs, each of us desperately trying to land more blows on the other.

Bodies are swarming all around me and a pair of arms roughly pulling me back from my intended target. The impact of the strike on my left cheek burns with a sharp, stinging sensation, and I can taste the metallic tang of blood in my mouth. Just moments ago, the only sound I could hear was the thunderous rush of blood pounding in my ears, but now the air is filled with the frantic screaming of the crowd and the shouts of the referees, who are desperately trying to restore order by calling out penalty times and names, urging everyone to settle down.

My opponent is in no better shape, sporting a nasty gash across the bridge of his nose, his teeth stained crimson with his own blood. One of his eyes is already beginning to swell shut from the impact of the blows. I can feel the throbbing ache in my own head and neck, the burning in my cheek now mingling with a strange, numb sensation as the adrenaline begins to wear off.

The refs roughly shove me onto the hard bench, treating me like a wayward child being sent to the corner. Indignation flares within, a desperate urge to lash out by untying my skates and hurling them at the cold, unyielding plexiglass walls. But in the end, all I can muster is a resigned lean forward, elbows propped on my knees as I stew in the searing frustration of my captivity.

Leo McGuire and his clean cut boy look steps into the box, a medical bag slung over his shoulder. Last week, he had been a constant chatterbox, his nervous prattle grating on my nerves, but now that he has grown accustomed to this routine, his demeanor has shifted. No longer does he sound like an idiot fumbling through his words - instead, his tone is calm and measured as he approaches me, attempting to get a closer look.

"Alright, Sebastian, let me have a look." But I refuse to submit, wriggling out of his grasp, unwilling to relinquish even the smallest shred of control. The walls feel like they are closing in, the air thick with tension as I steel myself against the indignity of my situation, desperate to maintain what little autonomy I have left.

I can feel the intense longing and determination coursing through me as I utter those three simple words to him - "I want her."

I know she has engineered this entire situation, this calculated plan to have him take over my care during the games rather than her directly handing me off to various partners. The reasoning is obvious - to avoid raising suspicion about the true nature of our arrangement. But at this moment, I couldn't care less about the intricate web she has woven. All that matters is getting what I want, reclaiming my fox and taking her for myself, right here and now.

He shrugs, unwilling to argue or stand in my way. I watch as he waves her over. She rolls her eyes, a familiar gesture that only heightens my craving, as her ponytail swings rhythmically back and forth with each step she takes towards us. As she steps into the small box she and McGuirre exchanging hushed whispers as he gathers his belongings and departs, leaving the medical supplies behind. Without hesitation, she kneels down and begins rummaging through the box, retrieving gauze, tape, saline, and antibacterial gel. My gaze is transfixed, drinking in every detail of her movements, her expression. Do I really look that bad? No matter - her attention is all that matters.

She begins to gently clean the cut on my left cheek, standing off to the side, carefully positioned so as not to obstruct my view of the ongoing hockey game. It's a considerate gesture, but it's a little late for that - my focus has already been shattered by the intensity of her presence. I glance up at her, and I can't help but notice the lines forming between her furrowed brows as she knits them together in concentration. Her cheek is slightly sucked in as she chews on it, a telltale sign of her focus, as she dabs carefully at the wound on my face.

Suddenly, she lets out a soft sigh, and I sense a shift in her demeanor. "We can't do this," she murmurs in a low voice, her lips barely moving. "I can't treat you and be sleeping with you. It's unethical."

I can't help but feel a twinge of frustration at her words. "So you send the newbie to tend to me then. I knew it," I retort, my words harsher than I intended them to be, my blood still boiling from the intensity of the game.

She responds matter-of-factly, "It's not like I needed to discuss it with you." I can't help but feel a sense of indignation creep in.

"Didn't have the decency to tell me to my face," I fire back.

"I didn't think it mattered," she says, her tone even.

I pause for a moment, letting her words sink in.

"You're right. It doesn't. This," I say, gesturing to the game unfolding on the ice, "this matters. The cup matters. And I'll be damned if some woman is gonna get in my way and mess me up." As I stand up on my skates, towering over her, I can see the glassy, trembling look in her eyes - and my own chest feels like its been cracked in half. I let out a heavy sigh and slump back down onto the bench, muttering an apology that I'm not even sure she hears over the din of the crowd.

However, the others - Jack and Leo- had clearly picked up on the tension. Immediately heading over and stepping into the box with us.

With a protective edge to his voice, Jack gently asked, "You good, Sarah?"

Sarah's response was clipped, her tone betraying the strain of the situation. "Fine," she said tersely, before continuing, "Listen, could you take over for me? I think Sebastian just needs to cool down, and obviously I am not making that any easier right now." The way she emphasized my last name, almost spitting it out, struck a chord within me, a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach as she gathered her belongings and pushed past Jack and Leo, putting as much distance between herself and me as possible.

As I slap my hands against my face, ignoring the sting of pain, I feel the tangled mess of my hair slip through my fingers. It wasn't her fault, none of this was - I was the one who had been so foolish, so reckless in my actions. Yelling at her, when all I really wanted to do was run after her and beg for her forgiveness. I had been so stupid to think this could ever be just a casual thing, a fleeting moment between us. Not after today, not after what had happened.

I could have played it safe, stayed cool and detached, never letting myself think about her during the game. It wasn't the puck to the face that had gotten to me - I could handle that kind of physical pain any day. No, it was what had happened before the game, when the players were circling the ice during warm-ups. I'd been on the bench, retightening my skates, when I saw him skate by, whistling and leering in her direction as she inventoried her equipment.

At that moment, I saw red. She was mine, and no one was going to disrespect her like that, not on my watch. The puck to the face had been my opportunity, my open door to beat the living daylights out of him. All because I had been foolish enough to let my heart get involved, to catch feelings for someone I could never truly have. Now I was left to face the consequences of my actions, my emotions having gotten the better of me in the heat of the moment. I had to find a way to make this right, to apologize and beg for her forgiveness, even if I knew in my heart that I could never truly be with her.

After the game, I couldn't even speak let alone look at my teammates. The throbbing in my head and ache in all of my muscles is a familiar feeling, a badge of honor for the sacrifices I made on the ice. As I stand under the warm spray of the shower, I watch the dried blood from the cut on my cheek and one above my eye mix with the water and swirl down the drain, disappearing into the checkered tile below.

Dressed and barely getting my gear bag over my shoulder, a voice calls out my name - a voice I was dreading to hear.

"Sebastian. My office."

It's Veronica Campbell, the team's tough-as-nails PR director. With her no-nonsense attitude and impeccable business attire, Veronica commands respect from the six-foot-tall athletes she works with, even though she stands nearly a foot shorter than us. Her petite frame is always adorned in sleek black or gray pantsuits, her feet shoved into practical flats rather than the towering heels one might expect.

Letting out a heavy sigh, I trudged through the familiar locker room, feeling the weight of my teammates' eyes following me as I made my way towards Veronica's office.

As I clicked the door shut behind me, I braced myself for the impending confrontation, my mind racing with possibilities. Veronica's commanding voice cut through the silence, instructing me to take a seat across from her. I reluctantly complied, rolling my eyes in a futile attempt to mask my growing anxiety.

"If this is about the fight, it's hockey - people fight. So what is it? I'm suspended, pending investigation. He's filing charges? What?" I demanded, the words tumbling out in a frantic jumble. Rummaging through the papers on her desk, Veronica produced two small packets, each with a neon green tab marked "sign here" at the back.

"The first is a non-disclosure agreement. I need you and Ms Brody to sign. The second is a treatment plan where Ms Brody will no longer be your nurse on call for any future games, and you will be tended to by Leo McGuire instead." My stomach dropped as her words sank in.

“I-but wait- what?” I stammer out and I see her shoulders slump. Her hazel eyes are heavy, probably from stress and exhaustion.

“ Look, I don't want the details of you and Ms Brody's relationship. I really don't need it. I just need you to sign the non-disclosure agreement and the treatment agreement. If you guys are going to continue with whatever it is, you're doing.”

Veronica sat back in her chair, her eyes narrowed as I contemplated the stack of papers before me.

"Did she bring this up to you?" I pressed.

Veronica paused, considering her words carefully. With a cool, measured tone, she replied, "How the information was presented to me is my business and my business alone." There was an underlying firmness to her voice that brooked no further questions.

In that moment, my mind seemed to completely shut off, operating on pure autopilot as my hand instinctively reached for the pen, signing my name on the dotted line before I even had a chance to process what I was doing. The typed words on the page blurred together, their contents a mystery as I hurriedly scrawled my signature.

“Can I take these with me?” I ask.

“If she consents I need them by Thursday. You have a game and I need everything filed before then.” I barely registered her response, my body moving mechanically to gather up the papers, trying desperately not to crease or damage them in my haste. The legs of the chair nearly tripped me up as I clumsily made my way out of the office.

“But Sebastian,” her voice stops me in my tracks as I turn slowly to look at her. “It's my job to file the paperwork. It's your job to tell the coach.”

Fanclub: @tearfallpixie @ladyveronikawrites @beaker1636 @missduffsblog @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @rumoured-whispers @sorrowsofsilence @mysticdoodlez @sinkingteethinwhitenoise @deathblacksmoke @somebodyels3 @flowery-mess @thisbicc

#bad omens #noah sebastian #bad omens cult #noahsebastian fanfic #bad omens band #hockey player noah #hockey #bad omens au #bad omens smut #hockey romance #hockeyomens #hockey player!noah #badomensau #hockey!au #hockey player x reader #hockeyromance #bad omens bandom #hockey!noah

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sugusoneandonly · 1 year ago

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Quixotic - STSG - ch 2

prev // next

a/n 1: ik i said fem reader but like there’s gender neutral pronouns, however the reader does have feminine presentations maybe? Like dresses, makeup, etc. 😭 idk how ts rlly works guys dont cancel me im a rainbow person too😞

cw cont: jealous sugu ,, questioning sugu ,, oblivious reader ,, thats all i got lmk if i missed smth

!! do not repost/copy on any other platform !! if u do at least lmk where and give creds 😒 /j !! pls don’t tho <3

After your brief introduction with Geto, you were now sitting on a leather couch that overlooked the bright city of Tokyo. Gojo had stepped out to go handle whatever modeling business he had to attend to, leaving you with Geto. It’s been silent since then, even more than before the chatterbox out of all 3 of you had left.

You couldn’t help but admire the man before you, no doubt in the fact that he could’ve become a model himself if he wanted to. As if he could feel your gaze, he turned around to lock his deep lilac eyes with your own. You blinked. He smiled, softly but surely. Anything he would say, you would do. Whether out of fear, admiration, or something else, you didn’t know.

His studio was clean (cleaner than yours at least) yet had the essence of life and his own soul strewn over it. Silken fabrics adorned the windows and deep fabrics were strewn across the island in his office, his desk with a stack of papers and an open portfolio. With curiosity your gaze shifted to it, focusing in on it to try and see what was on them, his latest line maybe?

Yet before you could catch the slightest hint, his pale hands had flipped the open file closed. “I apologize for my lack of introduction, i’m Suguru Geto, you probably already know though.” You had to get a grip on yourself, he’s your…mentor and you can’t swoon around for your own mentor. “I’m Y/N L/N, I really love your work.” you quickly managed to get out.

A moment of pause, and he let out chuckle that was deep yet as light as a summer’s night breeze. “I’m quite familiar, I see your name in my notifications quite frequently.” And with that, summer’s scorching sun had graced itself into your cheeks, and if you couldn’t blush before you might as well have now. Your appreciation for his work posted online hadn’t gone unnoticed apparently. What’s worse, he knew your social media already and you can’t remember whether you left it private or public.

“..I’m sorry again for my harsh behavior it’s not everyday you meet your lovers ex and take them in-” He began but you quickly cut him short, hands frantically waving in front of you frown etched with wide eyes and scrunched eyebrows. “I have no feelings for him anymore and even if I did there’s no way I’d express them, especially considering everyones… positions. I didn’t even know I-” realizing your rambling, you finally looked him in the eye, a tight lipped smile pulled on his face. “Then there’s no point wasting time on informalities, is there then?” , not trusting your mouth you simply nodded.

“We have a tight schedule today, we begin with picking the next project.” we. i get to help my idol make his next project. a project that people are gonna wear. and people that actually know who made it instead of my occasional etsy shoppers.

When you returned to reality, you saw a collection of various designs laid before you on the coffee table. The seasons were shifting from summer to fall. Although it was early September, the industry never waited, not even on the leaves to fall. Your mouth fell to a small o , Suguru swore if you had gazed at him with the stars in your eyes, they might’ve been warm enough to make him melt.

wait, what, that’s not how it goes - sugu

You skim through each and every sketch, feeling as if you’ve discovered a new chest of gems, one that nobody knew of. You stopped when you fell across a particular sketch, not really a sketch but a photocopy. The style felt familiar, and upon closer examination, it’s my drawing

You look up at Geto, “I was thinking, there’d be no point in interning if you couldn’t exercise your own work. So, if it’s alright with you I was thinking to incorporate some of your ideas into the next line.”

A grin spread across your face, “Yes, Of Course! I’d love that so mu-” you were cut off with the door opening, and Geto quickly shut the folder with the sketches out of sight. You turned around to see the door, none other than Gojo standing there, playful pout gracing his face. “He’s not allowed to see the works in progress,” Geto explained. You tilted your head, no words, and like second nature Gojo responded “He wants to be mysterious and keep it a surprise like the bum he is.” Gojo had scrunched his nose at Geto, plopping himself down next to him, arm resting on the couch behind Geto’s back.

A twinge of jealousy pinched at Geto, seeing what’s probably surface level remnants of your past relationship come back to life like clockwork. He brushed it off, you had no feelings, Gojo has none, what could go wrong.

he forgot about himself

Yet, you had no feelings. None. You looked at the couple in front of you and exhaled with relief. you did it, you were over him, and you can carry on

It was dead silence now, how unfortunate. Why won’t your mouth work, say something. Thankfully, Geto and Gojo had been fussing over whatever rich people business Gojo had brought with him. Albeit, quite hushed. Praying your stomach wouldn’t go back to its old ways, you had jinxed yourself. A quite prominent growl had presented itself to the room. Geto glanced up at the clock, Gojo smiled. It was pushing 1 in the afternoon, unfortunately you couldn’t brush it off as only one person was sitting in the direction of the sound, and that person was you. Gojo had slightly toed Geto under the table.

“Next item on the schedule would probably better off as lunch, hm?” Geto offered, a teasing, forced?, smile on his face.

“Really?” You glanced down at the paper, lunch wasn’t for another hour? Quickly the paper was lightly tugged from your hold, two different hands yet adorned by similar rings. The two glanced at each other. “A designers life never sits set in stone, little one.” Gojo said in a sing-song.

“Ohh” you had bought it. They take this very seriously, perhaps it’s best not to mess around too much like this - Suguru

Quickly, the two men had already began to make their way out the door and to the elevator down to the city. You made your way to keep up with them, to wherever they were taking you.

a/n 2 :: BONJOUR 🥖

This is very slow burn i think. Guys im being so fr idk what im doing im just throwing up my thoughts. Idk how to write enemies to lovers so i give u crisis sugu <33

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makeyoumine69 · 11 months ago

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Till Death Do Us Part (Chapter Five)

PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x Innocent!Fem!Reader; [no y/n]

SUMMARY: Some of the answers can only be found on the line between life and death.

CONTAINS: Drug use, near death experiences, swearing, angst, toxic behavior, NSFW art, misogyny, hurt/comfort, Patrick Bateman is a warning himself.

WORDS: 4.4k

A/N: Sorry guys for the long wait, I was in the hospital, but now I feel better and hope to get back to my writing form. Thank you so much for your support and comments, I love you all!

LINKS: [MASTERLIST]; [SERIES MASTERLIST]; [AO3].

Sighing tiredly, Patrick quickly ran his hand over his face. "Because you told your... 'co-worker' that I'm aggressive." He said quietly. "You can explain why you were absent without being so...so specific. Look, if people think I'm...aggressive, they're going to do a wellness check. And if you keep screaming and crying and acting hysterical, I could get in trouble. Do you really want me to get in trouble?" The man straightened up slightly and furrowed his brow. He felt a deep hatred for you, one that could only be resolved with complete violence. But he held himself still. "How can I trust you to go to work? After your behavior? Hmmm?" His grip on you tightened. "God, I can't deal with you. Do your parents know how...pathetic you are? I'm the least scary thing in this fucking city, honey. I hope you realize that."

Scowling, you yanked your wrist roughly from his grip, rubbing the spot where the dark bruise was sure to bloom. "Leave your cheesy pet names for Courtney, okay?" you hissed, getting up from the bed, ignoring the way the hem of your long shirt was pulled up. "Vincent's picking me up soon, I'll be late tonight because I have to... overwork for missing my shift yesterday," your tired gasp echoed through his opulent bedroom. "Have fun, but...if you're going to bring some hookers here today, you'd better tell me now, because I don't want..." you paused, crossing your arms. "I don't want to be a part of that depraved shit..."

Bateman let you go and stepped back. He inhaled slowly through his nostrils and closed his eyes to calm himself. "Okay...okay…I'm sorry…just…you're stressing me out." He sighed, suddenly exhausted. It was easier to deal with Evelyn because she didn't fucking live with him. Sure, she was a chatterbox, but at least she didn't notice anything he did. He scowled. "I'm not going to hire anyone. I'm going to...take a nap...or something." Patrick said, rubbing his eyes. "Besides, it's not depraved. Everyone does it. Even women. Better get used to it." He crossed his arms over his chest. "Also, wear some fucking clothes, huh? If you're going to act like a jealous bitch around Courtney, then have some dignity, you know?"

A wave of anger washed over you at his last remark. For a brief moment, you stood in the doorway, considering whether to stab him back. "Uh, you keep saying how pathetic I am, but you...you're stuck in a situation where you're marrying a woman you don't like because your mommy said you had to," you chuckled and looked back at him. "While the woman you LIKE," you dragged out the last word. "Is about to marry another guy, so you can just be an errand boy while her fiance is away on business," you licked your suddenly dry lips briefly before picking up your clothes and opening the bedroom door. "Isn't that pathetic, Bateman?"

Huffing angrily, the man stared at you, his arms crossed and his eyes widened slightly at your outburst. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but you're in this situation too, aren't you?" He scowled. "Also, for your information, I don't like Courtney. She's just a great lay. Her fiance is a fucking queer anyway, so, y'know, that won't last long." He ranted, angrily following her to the door. "I'm not pathetic! You are! I have more money than your whole fucking family, sweetheart—I could BUY you! But, oh, who would want that? Who would want a fat-headed, no-good brat in their house?" He was angry now. Bateman grabbed your books off the table and shoved them into your arms, then pushed you out the front door, not caring if you were ready to change or not. "Tell your family the marriage is off. Tell them you've pushed me beyond my breaking point and I'm doing everything in my power not to break your fucking neck right now!" Patrick said this calmly, but there was a burning hatred in his eyes. Then he slammed the door and locked it, pressing his back against it.

When you heard the lock click, you couldn't believe your luck. 'Finally...finally I did it!' You closed your eyes and let out a sigh of relief, hugging your books closer to your chest as you realized you hadn't put on your panties. At first you wanted to knock on the door and ask him to let you take your things, but then you decided that it would only make you look pathetic and you would never give him that kind of pleasure. At least you managed to put on the casual dress you usually wore when you went out. But the lack of underwear made things a little more difficult.

After a few minutes, you left the American Gardens Building and walked down the street to the phone booth, where you dialed your family's home number and thanked God that your mother picked up the phone. "Hey, Mom," you murmured in a shaky voice. "I don't have much time, but...I'm sorry for ruining everything...I know how important this marriage was to our family, but...I couldn't go on like this...it's all over now." And with that, you hung up without even giving your mother a chance to respond when you noticed Vincent's car pulling up to the street.

Your sudden call was like rain on a sunny day, almost giving your mother a heart attack—Mrs. Rice pressed a hand to her chest before asking her maid to bring her some water and a sedative. Breathing heavily, the old lady dialed Mrs. Bateman's number, hoping that Patrick's mother would give her some information about what the hell had happened. When the beeping finally stopped and the old woman heard her friend's voice, she relaxed for a moment before beginning to speak. "Linda, hi, it's Janet," she swallowed and tugged on the phone cord. "My daughter just called me...she said the wedding is off...do you know anything about it?"

Linda lay in her hospital bed staring at the ceiling. She'd been in the sanatorium for years now, and it was easy for her to entertain herself. Time passed quickly now. She jumped when she heard the phone ring and sat up. She picked it up with trembling fingers. "Hello?" She asked tentatively before hearing a familiar voice. "Oh, dear - well... I didn't hear anything, but I'll... I'll call him. I'll put you on the other line, Janet." She clicked a button, then punched in Patrick's number and waited patiently.

Meantime, annoyed and stressed out, Patrick poured himself a J&B. He felt great though, as if an impossible weight had just been lifted from his shoulders. He swallowed it down and walked into the living room, glancing down at the phone as it began to ring. He picked it up and rested it on his shoulder as he walked around. His elation was momentarily dampened when he heard his mother's voice. "Look, Mother—the woman is a lunatic." He moved to lie down in his bed. "She's an ugly pig and I'm really offended that you would set me up with her. There are... thousands of other women in New York who are richer, more attractive, and...well...better than her. Okay? I'm 27 years old. I can make my own decisions." Bateman went to his closet and opened a drawer. He blinked when he saw a small baggie of what looked like cocaine. He picked it up between his fingers and smiled to himself. "Listen, I'll call you later." Patrick hung up the phone and set it on the side of the bed before opening the baggie. He poured some on his AmEx card and snorted, blinking a few times. It was...very strong. Without even thinking, he spread the rest on his teeth with his finger and lay back, closing his eyes.

The day at the hospital had been so fucking horrible, starting with not having any underwear—you couldn't just walk around like that, so you had to find a solution. Thank God you had left some of your clothes in the staff room, so after you changed into the fresh underwear and then into the medical uniform you started to feel so much better, although it was so hard to forget the ride with Vincent because you had to hold your legs together every damn second.

After the work day was over, you praised yourself for not getting upset about the whole situation that had happened in the morning—it was the right decision to get him off, despite all the feelings you had for this man. 'He doesn't exist anymore,' you sighed as you waited for the taxi, the heavy medical kit in your hand. Since you had decided to return to your family's house, you wanted to collect all your things, including those that were trapped in Bateman's apartment. If he didn't let you in, you would tell your mother that all the jewelry she had given you was gone forever.

A taxi ride was quite short, maybe it felt short, but as you stepped out of the elevator on the 11th floor, your senses suddenly warned you—something was definitely wrong. You walked slowly down the clean hallway to Patrick's front door when you noticed it was open. 'What the hell?' You tensed as you remembered how meticulous Bateman was about security. With careful, quiet movements, you opened the door and stepped inside, soon to find an unfamiliar woman in the living room, looking for something as she went through Bateman's CD collection.

"Hey! Who the hell are you?" You yelled, hoping Patrick was nearby.

The woman stalled before slowly turning around, which helped you notice Bateman's Rolex, his gold cufflinks, and some cash in her hands. "Wait...I...I didn't call an ambulance!"

Frowning, you looked down at your medical uniform before hissing. "I'm not the ambulance...but I'll be a lot worse than that if you don't put all that stuff in its place and leave!"

The unknown woman, who was probably a hooker, sobbed but obeyed and put all the stuff on the coffee table, her hands visibly shaking. "Okay, okay, I'll go, but I... I didn't kill him!"

"What?!"

"I didn't kill him...he just fainted and..." the woman cried, grabbing her head. "I didn’t do it…I swear!"

With that, the hooker stormed out of Bateman's apartment, but that was the last thing you had to worry about after what she had said. Nervously biting your lower lip, you quickly ran into the bedroom to see Patrick lying absolutely naked on the bed, his skin sticky, covered in sweat and...his cum?

"Patrick!" You called out to him, lifting his pale face.

(Patrick and Becca art by my gorgeous fairy @anyarlly).

When he didn't respond, you opened his eyes—the pupil was so dilated it was obvious he'd OD'd. 'Did that bitch do this to him?' you thought briefly before rushing to grab the medical kit and find the antidote. 'Stay fucking professional,' you muttered to yourself, not letting the panic get the better of you. As soon as you grabbed the packet of naloxene, you returned to Bateman and sat on top of him, spraying two sprays of the antidote into each of his nostrils. "Patrick, Patrick, can you hear me?" you gently slapped his face to help him regain his senses. Breathing heavily, you began to stress when you realized that Patrick would probably have to be taken to the hospital, but since he had overdosed, that would cause him so much trouble. Not to mention when you noticed that his breathing became so shallow and weak that it scared the hell out of you.

"Oh, no…Patrick, breathe, breathe you bastard!" You shouted at him and before you started the artificial respiration you also took a dose of naloxene to prevent yourself from overdosing in case you accidentally came into contact with any drugs Patrick was taking. As your lips covered his, you closed his nose and began to inhale the oxygen into his lungs, praying that it would help.

Patrick's vision was dark, his consciousness trapped in the deepest recesses of his mind. All he could remember was taking the drugs and hiring a hooker. Maybe they had sex, but Patrick couldn't remember. He felt cold. Then hot. Then cold again. He wanted to scream, to rip the skin from his flesh, to run outside wearing only a coat and let it fly behind him like a cape, but he couldn't move at all. A spark of light came into his mind. Then another. His breath was short and shallow and he felt like he could just die right now, but the light gave him hope. Something to hold on to. He felt air being pumped into his lungs. Suddenly his eyes opened. His arms desperately flew up and wrapped around you, needing more air. When the man remembered how to breathe properly, he let go of you and closed his eyes, which were bloodshot and sore from the drugs.

Panting, you quickly wiped your mouth, feeling a little dizzy. Damn, he probably rubbed the coke right into his gum! What a reckless idiot! You took a few deep breaths before getting up from Patrick's weak body. "I... I'll get you a shot, you'll feel better," you mumbled and went back to the medical kit, then grabbed a vial and a needle. "Stay with me, Patty," a sudden rush of tenderness coursed through your small frame as you ran a finger along his pale cheek. "You'll be fine," you hummed, taking his hand carefully to find the vein on it. "If your condition doesn't stabilize in fifteen minutes, we'll have to go to the hospital," you closed your eyes for a second and exhaled as you heard Patrick's painful cough, your heart bleeding from the scene. "Just stay with me..." You begged before disinfecting the spot where you were about to make an injection.

The man was panting heavily, his other hand over his heart, which was beating rapidly. He blinked before opening his eyes fully, looking up at you with an unfocused gaze. Nothing was really being processed. His hand tensed from the shot, his veins protruding slightly through the thin skin of his hand. Before he knew it, he was sobbing. Tears rolled down his cheeks and his shoulder shook as a small whimper escaped his lips. Just a few minutes ago, he was teetering on the edge of life and death—and now he was here. 'Thank you . ' Bateman couldn't quite see your face, but your soft, silken voice helped him recognize you. He gripped your hand tightly before loosening his grip to something more comfortable for you. "Don't... don't leave me here..." Patrick choked out, looking up at you tearfully.

His suddenly pleading voice stirred something in your chest, something you tried to bury, but no matter how hard you tried, that something was alive, longing for the man beneath you. "Hey, hey," you pressed your palm against his cheek. "I'm not going to leave you, Patty, you're going to be okay, I promise," you noted the time, you only had fifteen minutes and if the injection didn't help, you would have to think about the possibility of taking him to the hospital. "Patrick, I know that you and your family always get medical treatment at some elite clinic, is that right?" you asked suddenly, adjusting the pillow underneath him to make him more comfortable. "If the medicine doesn't work, you will need medical treatment that can only be provided in a hospital. Do you understand?"

Patrick breathed heavily, his heart slowing slightly as he stabilized himself. The injection made him feel a lot better, thankfully, but he was still scared. He didn't think about anything but not letting you go. He felt that he needed you at this moment. "Y-Yes... I understand..." He said softly. Bateman moved up slightly and wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you down to lie with him. Then, the man wrapped his other arm around your back, burying his head in your neck as he sought comfort. Fuzzy memories from a few hours ago began to return to his mind. Him yelling at you and kicking you out. He sobbed again, clenching his hands into fists. "Oh God..." he choked out. "I'm sorry...please don't go...don't go..." He mumbled, repeating 'I'm sorry' in a hushed tone.

(Patrick art by my amazing queen @somnolenthour).

Paralyzed, you tried to hold your breath and not burst into tears at his sudden unraveling. "I'm here, I won't leave you," you knew his behavior was the result of the side effects of the antidote you had given him, and as soon as he regained his senses— he would forget everything. And that spurred you to go down to Patrick's trembling lips and seal them with yours. It was not even a kiss, just flesh touching flesh. "I love you, Patty," you murmured against his mouth before embracing him and pulling him closer so that his nose could nuzzle the soft skin of your neck. "I always have and I always will, since the day we met, two little kids," you chuckled sadly, on the verge of tears. "You should stop living this life, you deserve much better," your words were more like a mantra, as if you were trying to convince yourself. "Besides... I know Jean cares about you, maybe you should give her a chance?" A small, telltale tear slid down your cheek, but you brushed it away and let it fall onto your medical uniform.

"No." Patrick said slowly. "I... I don't... I don't want Jean. I want…"

"I'll give you some sedatives and you'll sleep like a baby...after that you'll feel refreshed, I promise." You tried to shush him but he continued.

"I want...you..." Patrick pulled away to look at you, his eyes still bloodshot and filled with tears. He seemed to panic slightly when you mentioned sedatives. The man shook his head quickly and licked his lips to rehydrate them.

His sudden protest against taking any sedatives made you stop and look at him with unspoken concern. "Shhh, it's okay," you cooed to him, but when Patrick put his hands on your breasts, which he probably did accidentally, it almost broke the resistance you had meticulously built up all this time. "All right, no sedatives," you conceded, looking down at his palms holding your breasts, but you didn't try to take them away, thinking that maybe he was relaxing in such a depraved way. "Tell me...tell me what do you want instead of sedatives? I want you to sleep and rest."

"Just…stay..." Bateman murmured tiredly, closing his eyes. He wrapped one leg around your hip, almost trapping you on the bed with him

In another situation, you would feel like the happiest person in the world, but now all you felt was sadness and compassion for the man who had trapped you in his strong arms. "Okay, okay," you kept your tone as sweet as possible, wanting nothing more than for him to fall asleep and feel better. "After you fall asleep and wake up, everything will be back to normal," you murmured, the pain in your voice undeniable. "But I want you to remember this—please don't do drugs, don't risk your life," you quickly ran your finger along his flushed cheek. "I don't want to see you like this, I want you to be happy," you continued whispering, your words lulling Bateman to sleep. "When you wake up, you won't remember everything you told me or the way you held me," as you watched him close his eyes, you sighed and rolled onto your back, quickly kicking off your medical shoes and looking up at the white ceiling above. "How unfortunate that I will remember all of this…"

Patrick nodded slowly, hearing what you said but not really listening. It was hard to really listen when his head was buzzing. The man closed his eyes and breathed slowly, keeping his breathing steady to bring his body back to its usual state. He planted a few soft kisses on your shoulder as his face pressed closer to your body. Before he knew it, consciousness melted away and he was asleep. He didn't dream, as usual, nor did he stir. His grip on you never loosened, and the only evidence that he was still alive was the soft breathing and the gentle smile on his face.

A few hours later, you didn't even notice falling asleep either, but the sudden thunderstorm outside didn't let you get much rest, thankfully it didn't wake Patrick. Slowly, you slipped out of his arms and after tucking him into the blanket, you quietly sneaked into the living room to finally take off your medical uniform, leaving yourself in a tight top and shorts. Then you checked that the front door was locked and that everything was in its place. 'Fuck, should I tell him that the hooker tried to steal his Rolex and some other stuff?' You wondered as you went into the kitchen and turned on the light. Then you opened the fridge to see what you could cook for Bateman, because when he woke up he would feel a terrible hunger as a side effect of the medicine you had injected him with. Looking through the stuff in the fridge, you found some vegetables, meat, and soon you were cooking some pasta for him, although you expected he would not like it since you were not a chef from Dorsia. 'Whatever, if he doesn't like it, I'll eat it myself.' As you strolled past the bedroom to see if Patrick was still asleep, you caught a glimpse of the coffee table and noticed his Walkman and a pair of headphones. Without a second thought, you took everything and came back into the kitchen, now listening to what Patrick had been listening to the last time, and that was TOTO's tape. 'Oh God, I love this band.' You chuckled softly and mixed the ingredients in the pan, moving rhythmically to the Hold The Line song.

Meanwhile, Bateman let out a small whimper as he felt the lack of warmth in his arms. He opened his eyes and blinked a few times, his eyes still slightly sore. Frowning, he groaned and rubbed his eyes, slowly getting to his feet. He noticed that he was naked, but didn't bother to put anything on. A bit clumsily, the man walked from his bedroom to the kitchen, the light hurting his eyes and making him squint. He saw your silhouette behind the counter. The drugs had worn him down, but something inside him wanted to be close to you again. He couldn't remember much about what happened last night, but for some reason he didn't feel the same anger towards you. Patrick wasn't even angry that you were back in his apartment. With a smug grin, he walked over and wrapped his arms around your waist, leaning down to rest his head on your shoulder. He took the Walkman off your head. "If you're going to use my Walkman—at least use the cheap one."

"Patrick...how are you feeling?" You asked before a loud clap of thunder rang out, scaring you a bit. 'Does he remember that I'm afraid of thunderstorms?' you wondered as you turned to face him, even now he looked so perfect, so desirable, so...so Patty.

Slightly confused, Patrick seemed to realize what he was doing and pulled his arms away, taking a step back. He moved behind the counter to hide his naked form. Of course, he would show it at every opportunity, but he felt more vulnerable being completely naked like this. "Uh, I feel fine." The man scratched his head. He couldn't remember anything from last night and he felt a bit dizzy. A terrible feeling, really. He looked up at the ceiling as the thunder rumbled and noticed your frightened reaction. A flash of memory flashed through his mind—him as a boy with a girl about his age—maybe a little younger—huddled together in his parents' house during a thunderstorm. Bateman inhaled sharply, startled by the sudden nostalgia, and began to turn around. The man pulled down the blinds on all the nearby windows, then walked over to his stereo. He picked out a Huey Lewis CD, his favorite, and put it on. Patrick tapped his hands on the stereo to the rhythm of the song before grabbing his Bijan robe from the top of the couch. He wrapped it around his body and walked back to you, standing behind but not touching you. "Uh, by the way...you can...you know... you can still stay here..." He stopped and looked over your shoulder. "What are you doing?"

'No, Patty, I can't stay here.' You were about to say when Patrick asked about the food. "It's... uh... it's pasta bolognese, I hope I pronounced it right," you looked at him, noticing his skeptical look. "Antidote always makes people hungry after a nap, I checked the fridge and when I didn't find anything specific I thought I'd make this," you turned to the pan, the smell was really amazing, though you were sure Patrick wasn't impressed. "If you don't want to eat it, I will, and then you can throw it in the garbage, I won't be offended." With that, you yawned tidily and covered the pan, trying not to focus on Bateman's drilling gaze behind your back.

Patrick chuckled slightly. "Well...I'm sure it won't be Barcadia quality, but it seems hard to mess up pasta." He squinted at you, then sniffed the air. It smelled heavenly. He closed his eyes and sighed softly, crossing his arms. He almost complimented you, but stopped himself. His reverie was interrupted when he heard the word 'antidote'. "Uh, antidote?" He asked suspiciously, moving closer to you. "What... antidote? Did something happen last night?"

You accidentally burned your finger on the hot pan, you squealed, bringing it to your lips to blow on it. "Uh, I..." you turned to face him, noticing how close Bateman was standing to you—dangerously close.

'I should tell him everything, shouldn't I?'

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

#american psycho #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman imagine #patrick bateman #patrick bateman x female reader #patrick bateman x you #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x you #slasher smut #patrick bateman smut #patrick bateman headcanon #christian bale smut #christian bale x reader #patrick bateman reader #christian bale #patrick bateman imagines

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laveens-pearl · 3 months ago

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BUNNYMUNDxFEM!Human reader

A.k.a. -The Easter Adventure-

Summary: after falling asleep, reader randomly finds herself waking up in the realm of Easter and it’s grumpy Guardian who’s not at all excited to have a human strolling around three weeks before his favorite holiday

Find part 4 here->

Part three

The travel itself wasn’t as nerve wrecking as last time, and when you felt the air calm around you again, you immediately opened your eyes.

He’s not gonna have to tell you twice.

Your legs were still a bit wobbly as you let go of Bunny though, which left you surprisingly dizzy.

He let out a low chuckle as he watched you suffer.

-Easy there, now. Wait wait, where are you going?

-Didn’t you say we have work?-you mumbled, rolling your eyes as he came up to lend you a hand, and you were taken a bit aback by the small, harmless smile on the corner of his lips.

-Yeah. But we cannot get that done if you get yourself killed first-he murmured, setting you back straight with both hands as he leaned down a little.

-As the Guardian of Hope, I think you’ve got a pretty great chance of keeping me alive-you retorted, with a small smile.

You stayed there for a little, and you wondered whether he acted on orders, or secretly had some of Santa’s ale that made him act so.. acceptably.

It was definitely a nice change compared to his previous behavior.

-Better?-he asked after a few beats.

When you nodded, he stepped back, clapping his hands together-Fantastic, hurry up then! We’ve got eggs to paint!

Right. The real Bunny was definitely still in there.

____

The first day had gone by pretty fast. You spent it mostly on Bunny’s back, while he showed you different parts of the Warren, and explained their functions, going in detail about what you’ll have to do in them later.

Riding a bunny, especially if it’s a six foot, jacked specimen who happens to be an expert of tai chi, was decidedly not as fun as it first seemed.

He was way faster than a horse and much more jumpy (but you’d been afraid of those your entire life which didn’t really help matters).

He would hop on and off trees in mere seconds, dive into tunnels and come back up, sometimes without warning you, and you often ended up laying flat on the grass as you massaged your temples in order not to throw up. Luckily, after a while the both of you got used to it.

In the following days he introduced you to the Eggs ( the huge stone ones ). As you came to find out there were a lot of them, almost as much as tunnels which mainly served as passageways, but they were also Bunny’s favorite way of traveling.

He wasn’t really a chatterbox, and his mood didn’t change as days came and went either, but you still managed to learn a few things about him between here and there. How he was afraid of heights (and sleighs), that he preferred light over dark and that he had been a bunny all his life ( but of his exact age, or what he’d been doing before he became a Guardian he refused to discuss, no matter how many times you’ve tried to ask.)

He never officially called you his assistant, but he clearly dealt with you as one: as it turns out, your actual job was to coordinate eggs, then paint them on the last stop before they cascaded to the tunnels in order to be transferred to the surface later.

He wasn’t always by your side, disappearing from time to time to check other parts of the Warren which, to your surprise was much bigger than it seemed. Before you could notice his absence he’d always come back though, either to check on your work, or bring you some food which often consisted of some way of carrots.

The taste wasn’t bad though, and being on a vegetarian diet was the least of your worries in between all the work he showered you with. If anything, he definitely took the assistant part seriously at last.

Bunny lived in a small cave, decorated as a cottage, but he spent many of his nights just wandering into the dark, often sleeping under the bright sky, or curled up under a large bush (which was surprising knowing his size). Therefore, he didn’t have any problem offering it to you, and you gladly accepted.

The more the days passed, the more used you’d gotten to the work, the whole place itself, and slowly but unrelentingly even to him. Step by step, it seemed like he slowly grew comfortable in your presence too.

It was funny seeing how his instincts mixed with his personality. Sometimes, you’d find him rabidly running around, or scratching different parts of his fur, and at others he’d just walk like a human, examining the eggs with such a sharp eye any project managed could envy.

He was clearly amazed with your painting knowledge too. It took him about three days to start giving you compliments about it, but you’d always see it in his eyes anyway: the way they lit up every time he noticed a beautifully patched up egg.

As the days passed, he came back less and less to check on you, and more to just talk about anything.

It was weird at first: anybody who’s ever been intimidated by a rabbit doesn’t really forget the experience, therefore you did not trust him.

It became better after a while though, so much so that you’d seek out his company whenever you had a free moment to yourselves, (which wasn’t often), mostly during the evenings.

The two of you would walk along the blooming trees, and watch the sunset from a flat rock, chewing away on some snacks as you talked about all kinds of things.

During one of these nights, about a week after your first arrival, you were laying in the same way, as the plush grass caressed your cheek and the breeze of the summer wind warmed your heart.

Bunny had just been telling you the story of how Jack Frost became a Guardian, (,,wretched guy he still is a jackass, no matter how many years he’d spent here”), when a sudden idea came to your mind. -Bunny, can I ask you something?

He stopped for a moment, lying propped on his elbows as he furrowed his nose and turned towards you, green eyes gleaming of curiosity. -Mhmm.

-Does it ever get lonely around here?

You didn’t know if they felt these things. They were mostly eternal beings after all, and him in particular as the Guardian of Hope wouldn’t have to have such thoughts if he actually stuck to his job.

The more time you spent here though, the more you came to wonder whether loneliness is something that could be erased, even if it was in a place like The Warren.

His eyes widened a little as he listened to the question, then turned back, humming thoughtfully to himself.

-I don’t know t’be honest. I’ve never thought much about it.

-About what exactly?

-What it’s like to be lonely-he shrugged, glancing back towards you and a bittersweet grin appeared on his lips-a long, long time ago, after I first became a Guardian, it struck me a little. Being eternal makes you wonder whether you’ll ever have actual company again.

-And then? What happened?-you asked, becoming even more curious.

-Then I saw what it’s like to be believed in, and it changed everything-his voice turned more and more enthusiastic as he talked, and you watched how his eyes glinted in passion for the job he came to love as his center-Easter.. it means new life, new beginnings ya know. And wherever I go, I bring hope with me.

-I guess you’re right-you chuckled, quickly turning towards the sky so he wouldn’t notice you staring-don’t tell North, but Easter’s way over Christmas for me.

-Thanks Sweetpea…-you noticed his green eyes flicker to you, as he smiled to himself-Frankly, since ya got here, I think I should’ve appreciated the peace a lil more.

-Hey!-you scolded, kicking him in the side, but your voice held no actual grudge this time-if i’d known the Easter Bunny was such a grumpy-head, I wouldn’t have come in the first place.

He chuckled, in that deep voice that could be surprisingly warm if he wanted it to be.

-Fair enough, but you’ve gotta admit, you didn’t make things any easier either. Scared the heck out of me the first time you barged in here.

-Me?-you retorted, eyes widening from surprise-with what exactly?

-There’re about twenty reasons why I shouldn’t answer that question-he retorted, and the faint mysteriousness in his tone enlightened your curiosity.

-Really? Come on Bunny, with the amount of roasting you do, I don’t think you could surprise me by now.

He glanced towards you thoughtfully, and you noticed something flicker in his eyes, that for a moment, left you wondering whether you aren’t the only one with spiraling thoughts around here.

-Believe me Sweetpea-he muttered, turning away before you could actually decipher something from the expression-ya wouldn’t want to know.

A few beats passed, and you didn’t say anything. That was way off track, even for him, but you guessed you could get the truth out of him later.

-That’s funny-you mumbled after a while-and here I was, thinking the Great Bunnymund isn’t afraid of anything.

-He is, if the subject is an all too spirited teenage girl-he grinned, and you felt your cheeks get a little heated from the comment. Luckily, he didn’t notice as he was still lying flat on the ground, glancing at the stars.

-You wouldn’t judge if you actually met any other teenagers, you know-you mumbled, mimicking a frown of embarrassment.

-Who said I’m judging?-he shrugged, but the glint of mischief didn’t leave his eyes-if they’re anything like you, I’d be out of business the moment they appear on my doorstep.

There really isn’t anyone else in the world who could’ve put ,,you’re hopeless” in a more plainly roasting manner, and coming from the Guardian of Hope, it hit twice as hard in the gut.

You were growing used to his comments by now, but some of them still got to you, and you weren’t really able to make a difference between a joke and an actual offending intention. Then again, maybe he could surprise you after all.

When you didn’t answer, he straightened up a little, leaning closer as he glanced down towards you.

-Hey-he waited until you looked at him, then gave you a kind smile-ya know I’m kidding, right?

-It’s a lil hard to know between all your moodswings-you muttered, but tried your best to ease out the anxiousness in your voice, so that he wouldn’t notice.

-If it helps, you’re way better off than my last visitor.

-WHAT?-you turned towards him fully this time, your eyes widening in mere seconds-you mean to tell me you’ve had humans in here before?!

He winced a little from the volume, and you grinned apologetically.

-Sorry. Forgot you have extra sensitive ears.

Bunny didn’t say anything other than a meaningful glance, but luckily, he decided to grace you with an answer.

-Only one. And she was about two years old. Enough to mess up the whole process for me though.

You stared at him dumbfounded, and your curiosity grew even further: his voice clearly spoke of adoration despite his words, and it made you wonder about the actual circumstances he met the little girl in. This time you didn’t say anything.

He seemed a little lost in thought as he continued, smiling to himself.

-Ya remind me of her a little actually.

-Why, because we both disturbed your so called peace?-he rolled his eyes, but kept smiling in that weird way as he answered.

-Yeah. And because ya have that same sparkle in your eyes when you smile.

You didn’t know why you forgot to breathe for a second. Maybe, because you’d never heard him say a whole sentence without being snarky, or because you just never thought he’d notice things like that. And probably because he had beautiful eyes too.

It was a long moment. Then out of nowhere you remembered how you were actually talking to the Easter Bunny in a dream, and blush spreaded furiously through your cheeks. You cleared your throat, and he turned away.

-Right, so you think I’m not hopeless after all?-you chuckled, easing out the anxiousness as if he didn’t just render you speechless seconds ago. He hopped on his feet, juggling a little as he gave you another of his signature lopsided smiles.

-I told you lil one. You’re never gonna know what I think.

Then, without saying anything else, he disappeared into the night, leaving you all alone with your thoughts.

___

The next morning, you awoke to a set of noises you haven’t heard before. You generally loved to sleep in on mornings, and since the cave was surprisingly effective when it came to being soundproof, there were already a bunch of people standing in the main clearing when you arrived, feeling a little too sleepy for your liking.

When they noticed you appear, they stopped with the lively chatter a little, and the guy standing closest turned to you with a sly grin on his face.

-Aah so this is Bunny’s new assistant then!-from what you’ve heard from the Easter Guardian, he couldn’t be any other than the newest part of the group, the famous troublemaker and Guardian of fun, Jack Frost.

-Careful there, he’s still sensitive about the topic-you chuckled, holding out your hand for him to shake-i’m Lainey. It’s nice to finally meet you.

The white haired guy nodded, immediately accepting the offer and you were a little surprised from the coldness of his fingers, as his icy blue eyes zeroed in on you.

-Jack Frost. But I’m sure Bunny’s already taken care of the introduction.

-‘f course, what did ya expect?-the said Guardian grinned, crossing his hands in front of his chest.

As he spoke, your eyes fell to the girl standing next to the Winter Spirit. She had a colorful appearance along with feather light wings, and radiant eyes that shined in a warm shade of purple.

-Gosh, it’s so nice to finally see you Lainey! North has told us all about you, and I’m dying to see your teeth! I mean, I do see a lot of human teeth but they’re mostly from children, and human dentists’ work cannot be trusted, you know because of the mishaps and all.. -she exclaimed, flying closer, and you noticed about four small creatures that looked like the miniature version of her, all peeping excitedly-I can’t believe we actually have another human help us with a Holiday! It’s been so long since we’ve been out on the field and…

-Easy there, Tooth, ya might wanna give her some time to breathe-Bunny interrupted, and you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. First of all, how did she even know you were a frequent visitor of dentists?

Tooth immediately noticed your reaction, and she smiled apologetically. Her voice still ran like a cheetah on narcotics when she spoke though.

-I’m sorry, I’m scaring you all over now, aren’t I?

Despite all the positive energy she carried with herself, you felt a little dizzy merely trying to decipher her words, that didn’t prevent you from smiling back though.

-Don’t worry, you wouldn’t be able to make a worse first impression than he did-you retorted, sending a meaningful glance towards your host.

He just rolled his eyes, but the shadow of a smile never left the corner of his lips. -Yeah, but you haven’t seen her when she first got here either. Stomping on my eggs and all.

-I bet he must’ve scared the hell out of you-Jack grinned ruefully, ignoring his comment-imagine he was mad about a blizzard I created for three decades. This guy’s crazy about holding grudges.

-Yeah mate, cause it was Easter Sunday-Bunny retorted clearly unphased-being believed in makes you all floppy now, doesn’t it?

-No, being in love does-the Winter Guardian exclaimed, gently pulling Tooth towards him by the waist, and she smiled-it’s official. She’s my girl now.

Your eyes became wide at the announcement, and as you immediately noticed, so did Bunny’s. They did look undoubtedly like two people who were made for each other but then again.. a few days until now you didn’t even know they existed.

-I bet she appreciates being addressed like that-the Easter Guardian muttered under his breath, causing you to punch him in the side-hey!

-Shut up, they look really cute together-you retorted in a whisper, quickly evening out your voice-Congrats guys. I’m sure holidays will be even more fun from now on with you two cooperating throughout it!

Bunny rolled his eyes at your antics, but he didn’t say anything. That was weird, you thought. Since when is he known to let people tell him what to do?

Seemingly though, you weren’t the only one who noticed the change in his behavior: Tooth’s purple orbs flickered curiously between the two of you as she grinned proudly, placing a featherlight kiss on her boyfriend’s cheek.

-Thanks Lainey, it’s still new really. North went all over his head when he first found out. He ordered the elves to compose a whole song about it and all.

-Wait wait wait, you mean to tell me ya told North about this before us?-Bunny interrupted, huffing in clear annoyance as he glanced expectantly at the pair.

-Sorry mate, but you can’t blame us-Jack retorted, that all too happy smile accompanied by mischief in his eyes-you guys were so busy getting ready for Easter, we didn’t wanna interrupt. We came here only after North told us to check in on Lainey actually.

-He sends his most heartfelt greetings-Tooth added, sending you a kind smile, before her eyes travelled to Bunny-he also told us to remind you he’ll blast through all of the eggs if he hears even a strand of her hair is in any kind of trouble.

-‘Course he did..-Bunny mumbled, the usual amount of arrogance coming back to his voice-Honestly, do i look like someone who wants to cause trouble?

-I don’t know, do you?-Jack quirked a brow, momentarily glancing at you-does he Lainey?

-You can go and tell North he should worry about his own eggs, before I get there to crush something-the accused retorted before you could actually say anything, and your eyes widened as you registered his comment.

-Bunny!..-Not only the snarky tone in his voice, but simply the fact that.. gosh, how can someone even be this unbothered about threatening Santa Claus?

When he noticed your expression, he just shrugged, clearly unaware of the effect he’d created: -What?

Jack snickered.

-I warned him you’d come up with something like that.

-See? I don’t even know why we’re talking about this then-the Easter Guardian huffed, as he crossed his arms.

-Maybe, because Lainey here hasn’t known you for a few hundred years like we have? Anyway, we’re just making sure nobody gets hurt while you’re getting done with the whole egg-paint thing.

You were still a little too impaled to say most likely anything. Tooth smiled, but it seemed like she was trying to apologize to you, rather than to the offended image of Saint Nicholas himself.

-You should’ve seen them when they first met. War was all over everything- she mumbled, and the creases of worry darkened her features for a moment before she brightened up again-anyways. If all’s well then we’ll just go, won’t we Jack?

-Naah, you’ve gotta give me a tour around here first. It’s been about a hundred years since we last visited, I wanna see the eggs-her boyfriend retorted, finally stepping away to kindly shove their friend in his shoulders-come on, Bunny. I’m sure you got something I haven’t seen around here yet.

The Easted Guardian merely rolled his eyes, but let himself get dragged into the process.

-Fine, but don’t even dream of freezing any of these googies, or I’m gonna have ya repaint and transfer all of them.

-You should send that grumpy old ass of yours to vacation sometime-the shorter guy grinned, flying away before the other could catch him.

Their bickering echoed from a long distance even as their shapes disappeared between the green hills.

As you let out a breath of relief, Tooth landed next to you, sending you a warm smile and she stretched her arm out towards you.

-Would you like to fly with me?

Flying with the Toothfairy after a whole week of preparing Easter, meeting Santa Claus and then Jack Frost? You would’ve been a fool to refuse an offer like that.

#bunnymund x oc #dreamworks animation #adventure #easter bunny #easter #rise of the guardians #fluff #rise of the guardians x reader #rotg bunnymund #love

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