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osamusriceballs · 1 year

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Last-Minute Plans

Ushijima x fem reader

Warnings: NSFW (cockwarming, rather soft)

Words: ~ 1,5 k

About: Wakatoshi got a ring for you, and he needs to make sure it fits.

A/n: Happy Birthday to our beloved Wakatoshi-kun~

"It fits,"

he mumbles with a sigh of relief, one he hadn't realized he was holding. He looks contently at the jewelry now adorning your ring finger.

Ushijima knows that he's late with this. He should have attempted this plan a long time ago; he despises last-minute actions. Lately, however, you've insisted on waiting until he returns home late from practice due to extended training sessions just before the crucial match, making it impossible for him to secretly slip that ring onto your finger to see if it fits. He's aware he hasn't been giving you the time you deserve lately, but he's determined to make it up as soon as he can. He intends to spoil you as soon as the match is over and his schedule finally allows him to have more free time, treating you like the princess you are.

He had nearly abandoned the idea of trying the ring on your finger. He considered simply hoping for the best, planning to alter the ring quickly after proposing if it didn't fit. He knows you wouldn't have minded, but he wanted this moment to be perfect. The first difficulty he had encountered, however, was that you had rings in various sizes in your jewelry box- probably for different fingers, but even after sorting through them, he was still not convinced that he chose the right size.

Relief washes over him as he sees the ring fitting comfortably, and for a short moment, he envisions your future together. He dreams of having you sleep beside him every night, of going on the vacation you've always dreamed of, and of giving you the beautiful wedding ceremony you've always wanted. He's already asked Tendou to be his best man and informed his parents of his plans. He even decided to send his father a notice that his son will be getting married soon—hopefully.

The ring looks stunning on your hand. It's noticeable yet subtly elegant. He's confident you'll love it; you've often praised his taste, describing him as simple in his choices, which you adore.

His gaze drifts to your peaceful sleeping form. You must be exhausted not to have woken up yet. Normally, you'd wait until he returns or awaken when he quietly lies down beside you, an act he's yet to master. You'd always greet him with a tender kiss, a gesture he cherishes most during his days and misses the most when he's away. Yet, you sleep soundly, your face soft, breathing steady. You're wearing one of his shirts, the old Shiratorizawa jersey you claim is the comfiest—adorable on you, he agrees.

He's fairly certain you're wearing only flimsy panties beneath, but he'll take his sweet time tomorrow to explore every inch of your body.

"Toshi," your sleepy voice pulls him from his daydreams, and he quickly hides the ring, clutching your hand in his. You stir, turning towards him, brows furrowing as you reach out blindly.

"Y/n, go back to sleep. It's late," he murmurs in a soothing tone, knowing you find his voice calming.

"I missed you," you groan, squinting your eyes as you try to make out his face in the dimly lit room.

"I missed you too," he replies, smiling softly and leaning down to press a tender kiss to your lips. You smile in return, bringing your free hand to his cheek, a bit clumsily—almost slapping his face, but he doesn't mind; he is simply happy having you close.

"You haven't shaved today," you mumble as you caress his cheek. He hums in response. "I forgot. Does it bother you?"

"No, it doesn't. But you never forget to shave. What was on your mind today?"

You, he thinks, but for once, he refrains from sharing his thoughts. He needs to distract you, to take back the ring unnoticed. How you haven't noticed it so far surprises him.

"I was thinking about…" he begins, his voice trailing off, unsure how to respond without you getting suspicious.

"Wakatoshi, come to bed. You seem really tired," you yawn, and he suddenly knows what he needs to do.

Ushijima leans down to kiss you again, this time deepening the kiss with more passion. He feels your response, your body arching into his touch, your lips moving in sync with his.

"Toshi," you're already breathless after a few kisses, and he finally feels your hand relax, fingers intertwining with his with the metal still on your finger. He typically holds your hand more firmly, but now he keeps his grip gentle, ensuring you don't feel the ring on your finger. With his free hand, he traces the hem of your shirt, his fingers gliding beneath the fabric, encountering the softness of your skin.

"Want you, but I'm tired," you whisper against his lips, prompting him to nuzzle against your neck. "Should I pleasure you? Should I make you feel full?" You moan softly and weakly nod, your eyes barely open in the dark room. Unbeknownst to you, a wave of relief washes over him. This may not be going exactly as he planned, but making love to you with the ring already on your finger is better than he could have imagined.

He quickly runs through potential scenarios in which he could smoothly slide the ring off your finger, deciding to position himself behind you while maintaining a hold on your hand in front of your body. Shifting his body weight, he maneuvers behind you until his chest presses against your back. He skillfully settles beneath the blanket without releasing your hand, making sure not to tighten his grip around your fingers. His lips find your neck, where he places the gentlest kisses against your skin, earning the softest, most beautiful moans from your lips. His hips begin to rhythmically move against your backside, and he feels how he hardens in his pants.

You contently hum while you lean into his touch, raising one leg to allow him to slip his thigh between yours. "Feels good," you murmur as he starts a grinding motion against your pussy. He feels his growing need, a nearly instinctive response to your body. His earlier suspicion about you wearing only his shirt and panties appears accurate; that much he notices when his shorts ride up and his bare thigh grinds against your cunt. As much as he wants the feeling of your bare skin against his, he knows that undressing might raise too much suspicion. Instead, he guides his free hand downward, gently tracing circles against your clothed center.

"You're so perfect. So beautiful. I love you so much," he whispers into your ear, causing you to shudder in his arms. Your grip on his hand tightens, while your other hand softly clutches the sheets. He understands your needs. Grateful that he's still wearing the soft shorts, he pushes them down slightly, quickly freeing his cock.

"Should I use some lube?" he asks, concern lacing his voice, worried about hurting you since he hasn't fully prepared you yet—a truly challenging task when ensuring your hand remains held and he can only use one hand properly.

"Think I'm wet enough," you mumble, and he dips two fingers between your folds to confirm, and he is rewarded with enough arousal to forget about his worries.

As much as he wants to ravish you right now, he knows you would probably drift off to sleep if he makes love to you tenderly—so that's precisely what he does. He gently spreads your legs further with his thigh, allowing his cock to rest between your legs. It has almost become a routine for him to set aside your panties and gradually ease his cock inside you- a practice that you often do after he comes home late from his practice sessions.

A breathy moan escapes your lips at the stretch, and he feels his own body tensing at the sensation of your soft walls around him. He continues to push until he's fully inside of you. You always take him so well—it feels breathtaking to be buried deep inside you. He still hopes you'll succumb to sleep in this embrace, even though he's surely wide awake himself.

"Feels good," you hum, your breathing gradually returning to a steady rhythm. He pulls you closer, inhaling the soothing flowery scent of your hair- a scent that always brings him comfort and calms his mind when he can't seem to rest. You might not fully grasp how much he loves you—how every fiber of his being yearns for you, how he wishes for you to be happy and to be his. This is precisely why he plans to propose to you tomorrow and to place the ring back on your finger. You wouldn't refuse him on his birthday, would you?

"Sleep well, my love."

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elioslover · 7 months

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Red Herring- Harry Styles x Reader.

[Premise: Harry might just be the pettiest of assassins.] Made possible by my one and only favourite, @harrysonlylover 💞

Word Count: 2.3k.

Warnings: Violence, weapons, death, angst, 3rd person.

Other Writing

🥀

Hair ruffled, tuxedo dishevelled, Harry is a sight for sore eyes. He really does look like the consequences of a mission gone awry.

Things had gone from zero to a hundred in such a blinding commotion that as soon as it had started, it was over. He hadn’t the time to even process the fact that death had just been on his doorstep, ambushed and beaten from every which way as he did anything possible to defend the blows of at least four assailants.

If it weren’t for Her showing up, his body already been detained, forced to his knees as a masked man pressed his forearm along Harry’s neck and squeezed it in place, choking tight, lagging his vision and causing his eyes to bulge with panic- there is almost no chance that Harry would have walked away in one piece.

Like the holiest of angels, she had floated into his line of vision, which was now so blurry that he saw double- left eyelid threatening to swell shut- an amorous apparition beaming as if a spotlight shone from above, twinkling along with the stars, and Harry couldn’t decipher if she were another dream conjured up by his lovesick mind- definitely not out of the ordinary- it’s only as she neared and the blinding white light morphed into a satin white ballgown, wrapped around her statuesque figure, that Harry feels certain of her existence.

And then things became a stampede of feet stomping, Harry still restricted and unable to see past the mess of curls and blood now dripping down his brows, covering almost all visibility as he was forced to stay put and hope for the best- the last thing he would ever want- whilst the group black-suited men fumbled around in defence, attempting with all might to eradicate the two problems at hand.

Though valiant, the pack of assassins lose momentum along the way, and as Harry is finally able to twist loose of the weakened grip of the man keeping him bound in place, he quickly uses his full body force to completely free himself and immediately throws his strength into incapacitating the threat breathing beneath him.

But the ear-shattering crack of a gun going off had Harry’s heart freezing over with fright, immediately expecting the worst. He could only chance a split second, glancing over at the attack ensuing to his right, just as one of the men hit the floor with a thud.

Increasingly impressed by the woman effortlessly holding her own, Harry returns his attention to the man unsuccessfully wriggling against his hold.

He had hoped he wouldn’t need the thin blade neatly tucked away in his inner blazer pocket. Still, as the assailant struggled and beneath him, furiously flailing, Harry knew that it had to be done, his palm reaching into the secret pocket of his blazer, drawing the weapon, aiming and thrusting it into the man's chest until the myriad of moans and gurgling slows and then silences all together, his body stiffening beneath Harry’s own.

Panting over the corpse, another brute hits the floor, the softest and swiftest of bullets finding a home in his skull, and Harry can’t look away as his angel hardly bats an eye, re-cocking the gun- he knows it’s not her usual choice of weaponry- as she saunters over to the last man standing, stopping his chance of charging over by tapping the trigger, watching emotionlessly as the minutest bullet thunders over and lodges into his heart.

And just like that, the threat of death has dissipated and Harry can finally take a proper breath, still panting over the man’s stiffened body. With sudden overwhelming relief, his entire body starts to ache, his head throbbing, injuries ready to render him to the floor in the hopes of recovery.

Nothing in the world could have convinced him to move- well, nothing but the gut-punching sound of high heels wedging themselves into the scattered stones, singing like clinking marbles as they not only picked up the pace but started to patter into the distant darkness- away from Harry’s crouched figure.

Back on his feet in a flash, patting down his clothing attire, Harry’is bowtie is long gone, his dress shirt torn and missing several buttons, his pants ripped along the thigh from a blunt blade, and his shoes are scuffed and covered in dust as he leaves the drama behind him and makes a break up the hill. Why? Well, to confront his knight in shining armour, of course.

Harry almost trips over several dislodged rocks and snapped damp tree branches as he blindly chases her through the dark of night. He thinks back to the six-inch stilettos she’s still wearing, the same heels that pressed into an unknown assailant's pelvis mere minutes ago. How the hell is she moving so fast?

It doesn’t help that his left knee is busted, bruising with each step. A kick to the hip results in a dull throb, and even though he has hardly caught his breath, his chest as thirsty as his brain, Harry follows after her, trying to garner her attention through his gritted teeth,

“Hey!” He can hear the leaves rustling as her pace increases. Harry tries to do the same, calling out with all the energy left to muster, “Hey!”

She spins on her heels, neck-snapping to meet her shoulder with such speed that it nearly results in whiplash, strands of hair wisping in the wind. Face furrowed in a frown, she wants to be anywhere but here,

“Leave me alone.”

Harry feels such shock that he stumbles on his own steps, barely able to stop himself from falling at her feet. He thinks she’d probably love that- it would definitely have her blood rushing with dominance. But, she needs no more dominance, this ‘incident’ was more than enough to prove her power for years to come.

She lets him wander over but doesn’t know why. His perpetual need to poke and prod was something that couldn’t be countered, let alone dismissed. She had already fucked up, majorly, what compels her to believe this would be any better?

As Harry finally finds his footing and gets close enough that they can study one another’s rage-fueled scowls, his stomach rumbles with frustrated ruminating confusion.

The volcanic heat bound between their chest threatens to erupt and douse their companionship with raw hatred and a river of larva courses through Harry’s lungs and expels from his throat,

“Why did you do that?”

“Save you?”

“I had it under control.” Harry’s incredulity is so falsified that it infuriates her, and as fast as a whip, her almost bare back walks off once more, mockingly singing out,

“Sure looked like it when you were in that headlock.”

“I can take care of myself.” He defends. But she keeps moving, close to disappearing into vast nothingness, and once again Harry is trailing after her, “Hey!”

“What?” This time she stops for real, riddled with stress that pertains to Harry- and he just cannot help but make it worse. She needs him to leave.

Harry needs to say something before she does. His pointer finger cast her way with confused accusation, his grassy eyes doey, and blotchy purple bruises along the bags of his bottom lashes,

“You had no business interfering with my mission.”

“Jeez, sorry I saved your life.” Her arms are flailing in surrender.

“You really are one to talk.” He spits, taking a hearty step closer.

“Don’t go there.”

The life in her voice has left, and a discerning shift in seriousness causes a shiver to dance up Harry’s spine. He’s so angry, though- close to furious at her choices- all of them- and still, she will hardly give him her full attention.

Never even in his wildest of nightmares had Harry envisioned himself in this version of hell- the person he once knew better than he did himself is now the person who has the task of killing him. At the least, it’s disappointing, and at the most, his heart is so shattered that heaven itself could not heal his damage.

“They practically did your job for you.” He’s yearning to yell, to let the whole world know how weird and wrong this all was, “You chose to stop them.”

“It doesn’t mean anything.” Her head shakes with stubborn denial, gearing up to turn away from him.

“Oh, fuck off. It does.” He’s hot on her heels.

She stops as quickly as she started and Harry hasn't the time to do the same, his sternum nearly bumping into her shoulder. Ignores their chests crashing together, pushing apart, pretending it means nothing to be this close to him again,

“Let me get this straight, you would have preferred it if I had let them kill you?”

“It would have saved you the bullets, no?” He’s not wrong.

“No, Harry.” Palm pressed to her forehead with sorrow, “That’s not how it works.”

“Oh, so now you want to follow procedure?” He cannot recall a time that they had ever played by the rules.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

She shudders at the mere thought of their deep-rooted relationship; the first of many rules broken, and the only reason the two of them stand here, faces reddened and glistening under the moonlight.

Harry swears he feels her skin prickle at the mention of their messily perfect relationship, and he can’t stop the paralysing shiver that skates up along his spine as his head stays bowed, glaring down at her,

“Christ, at least buy a man some dinner before you take a hit out on him-”

“I’ve bought you dinner on several occasions-”

“And you still took out the hit.”

Stomach dropping and splatting against the gravel, all of the blushing blood drains from her features, leaving her with a loss of energy, of deep emptiness. Stepping- stumbling- back, she builds the distance with fatigued frigidity,

“Harry, I’m warning you. Leave me alone.”

“No.” Harry’s foot almost stops with lividity.

This only increases the imminent eruption of fury that she so desperately wishes to spew his way, and they both know that there is hardly a way to stop Harry when he’s determined, so she walks away with dismissal, muttering just loud enough,

“You’re so fucking childish.”

“Me? What you did was childish!”

“I don’t think you understand the meaning of ‘leave me alone’.”

Harry will be damned if she thought he’d ever give up so easily- it’s not like he hadn’t been desperately trying to track her down for three weeks. Heart hurting, headache splitting, his neediness boiling over, he won’t stop until she explains herself,

“I want to know why.”

“The hit was set, Harry.” She howls into the void, back still turned, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. “I took the job so nobody else would.”

She works overtime to keep her weakened voice from wobbling with each word, and if Harry were even a smidge wiser, he would have let her explain. His wisdom is dwindling though,

“That doesn’t-”

“I planned to avoid you for the rest of my life.”

Harry feels sick- sicker than sick- his heart drops to his stomach, where it is swallowed whole and thuds tirelessly, nausea travelling up to his throat, bile burning and poisoning his larynx. He can only stare blankly, lips beginning to babble like a thirsty fish, his tongue sticking to his sandpaper gums.

His cluelessness is crippling her ability to maintain calmness, each dumbfounded blink makes total destruction the only thing on her mind.

Without hesitation, she takes the largest of steps forward, her shoe-clad toes scraping against his own as her hand reaches up, and bunches a fistful of his cotton shirt collar, tugging Harry down to meet her scowl.

He can feel her enranged, and breathy exhale fan across his features, her glare so icy that Harry worries he may turn to stone if he gazes a moment more. With sharp polished nails scraping and almost puncturing the skin protecting his jugular.

“For fucks sake, H. Be smart for a change and leave me alone.”

“Or what?” He challenges and leans in, jaw brushing along her hairline like old times- though the compassion so true to her core is long deceased and decays the closer he comes.

But what frightens him to the point of utter seriousness is the sudden pressure of steel pushing into his left side, settling over his organs just as the familiar click of a pistol cocking warns Harry that things are quickly crumbling into dangerous territory. Especially when she loses all love and says,

“Let me get this through your thick skull,” The barrel pressing deeper, “If I see you again, I will shoot you on site.”

She releases him and doesn’t bother to grant even a small glance as if he were a mere stranger who had threatened her existence. Harry doesn’t follow, she wouldn’t care if he did, and he’s smart enough to know where he stands now.

There is a swell of staling energy that holds the place in which she once stood, vibrating vicious electricity all through his body, coursing and singeing his vitals as she slips into the forest and possibly out of his life for good- he would welcome death in exchange for seeing her once more.

The one thing he could at least do for her- think smart- was an improbability because Harry had already made a huge mistake… Massive.

How in the hell is he gonna tell her that his heartache had gotten the best of him- that he had done the worst thing imaginable?

What’s the best way to break the news, ‘Hey, I hope you don’t mind but my feelings were really hurt so I retaliated and took a hit out on you too’? That will go down swimmingly…

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skyfallscotland · 4 months

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intertwining souls (we were never strangers) - ii

I’d tried to leave it well enough alone, tried to resist crossing the distance between the quadrant and the main campus where I knew I’d find her. Tried to stay far away from the infirmary and the healers’ purview where I knew she might linger. I’d tried a lot of things, before I’d realised I didn’t have to. I can’t change Remi Sorrengail’s history by being here; that Remi Sorrengail is gone. The only thing I can change is this Remi’s future, and right now—listening to her cry quietly, my own heart twisting inexplicably in my chest—changing that doesn’t seem like such a bad thing.

She’s crying, my shadows tell me, her chin tucked down into her chest as she sobs quietly into her pillow, her shoulders shaking with the force of it. It’s gut-wrenching, the emotion contained in that small body and while I had some idea she wouldn’t be the same as she was that night on the flight field, I hadn’t quite been expecting this. It hurts. More than it should.

I’d only known her—the other, future her—for a few days, just enough time to get to know her; enough time to know I wanted more…and I don’t want to wait. I’ve always been patient, calm, able to weather any storm while my mind plots and plans. Somehow though, this is the exception. I can’t wait.

She—the other her—told me we’d meet on the parapet a year from now, that her whole world would be tossed upside down soon enough and she’d be forced to enter the Riders Quadrant, a fate she never planned on. She told me there’d be venom and harsh words, but that I’d fall for her—love her at first sight.

She’d also said that she wouldn’t be the same, that her strength would not be obvious at first and that she’d need me to help her; to build her up, to protect her and hone all her sharp edges. She’d thought maybe I’d forget—that once she disappeared, returned to her own time, whatever signet or dragon magic had landed her here, would cease to exist as well and my memory might be erased.She’d been wrong.

I can’t change Remi Sorrengail’s history by being here; that Remi Sorrengail is gone. The only thing I can change is this Remi’s future, and right now—listening to her cry quietly, my own heart twisting inexplicably in my chest—changing that doesn’t seem like such a bad thing.

I close my eyes, leaning my temple against the cold, hard stone of the tower wall as I focus on my signet, letting my shadows stretch out to stroke gently over her hair. She startles a little, her hand whipping up as if to flick away a spider, or a bug. In the darkness, her lip trembles and I can’t resist stroking over it with a wisp of black.

She jerks away, spooked, her hand swiping at the air and I let my shadows creep around her in their entirety, cradling her. She struggles for a moment, her pulse thrumming wildly, flickering visibly against the delicate skin of her throat before she settles, hugging herself inside the shadows’ embrace. Her tears still fall, her breathing ragged, and I let a wisp slide up to caress her face, tenderly wiping away her distress.

“H-hello?” She whispers quietly into the dark, no doubt fearful of waking her sister who sleeps on obliviously in the bed on the other side of the room. The shadows curl around her, holding her tight before they slip away, a lone tendril reaching out to encircle her wrist, gliding over her skin in a forward motion; pulling, coaxing her.

Slowly, she untangles her legs from her blankets and stands, wrapping her comforter around her shoulders like a layer of protection. She follows my shadows as they guide her toward the door. Carefully, with a single glance over her shoulder at her sleeping twin, she unlatches the lock and steps outside, squinting into the darkness.

She closes the door silently and turns, positioning herself in front of it. “I know you’re there.” She whispers softly, the slight tremor to her voice matching the trembling of her fingers as they clutch the comforter around her. Her eyes narrow, sharpening as they adjust to the moonlight coming through the window, her attention catching on my shadows as they retreat.

She adjusts herself accordingly, angling her body toward me, a solid obstacle between me—the threat—and the girl in the room behind her, sleeping soundly. She takes one step forward and then another. “What do you want from me, Xaden Riorson?”

I jolt, surprise no doubt etching my features for a fraction of a second. For a moment, I think maybe she knows, that she has some idea of who I am—what we are to be to each other—but then my brain finally reconnects and I realise it’s not a difficult deduction to come to, there’s only one shadow-wielder alive at the moment and that’s me.

“Have you come to kill us?” She asks quietly, almost crooning. “Do you want revenge against my mother, for everything Navarre did to you? To your family?” She’s moving closer with every step, her tears forgotten in the face of what she perceives to be a threat, a threat against her life and her sister’s.

Slowly, I let my shadows dissipate, revealing my still form leaning against the stone wall of her quarters, a few feet from where she’s standing. As I watch her, she watches me, her eyes trailing over my black leathers, the shadows still curling around my hands and finally, my face, her attention catching on the scar bisecting my brow, the mark Sgaeyl left me.

“Yo—”

“Beautiful.” I murmur, halting her questions as I step in close, slipping a finger beneath her chin to tilt it upwards, the angle drawing her parted lips toward mine so temptingly. Oh how I’ve craved her since she left. Craved her touch, her warmth, the press of her lips against my own. My eyes trail over her now, taking in her natural beauty, her mussed hair loose and tumbling over her shoulders, her wide, wet eyes. I want to kiss her.

I want to kiss her. So I do.

I lean down, slotting my lips against hers, my hands sliding down to her hips to haul her close. For a moment she’s frozen, unresponsive in my arms as I swipe my tongue along the seam of her lips, but then some level of instinct kicks in and she relaxes, tilting her head back even further as she opens her mouth to me.

My heart slams against my ribcage as my hands hold her to me, my thumbs drawing circles on the bare skin of her hips where her sleep shirt has ridden up and at just the thought—the image of her tiny sleep shorts barely covering her thighs—I groan, panting against her mouth. I ache to flick my tongue out, to grasp her lower lip between my teeth. I dip my head, intent on doing just that, only to feel the press of something cold and sharp against my throat. It stings, a sudden burning pain flaring to life in an instant.

“What the fuck?” There’s a low, guttural growl, the sound escaping her a complete, violent contrast against the soft press of her body against mine, my hands still palming her hips, grasping her to me. The furious sound is however, completely in line with the blade she has pressed to my throat, threatening to pierce my carotid. Clever, deadly, beautiful woman.

“There you are.” I breathe, leaning in. A trickle of blood runs down my neck. “Hello, love.”

The comforter has fallen to the floor, of no use now it’s not concealing the blade grasped tightly in her hand. Her brow furrows, her eyes flicking over my face, taking in the curve of my lips. I wonder what she sees in my eyes as hers settle there, an unnerving intensity to them. “You just kissed me.” She whispers; like it’s a secret, something horrifying to be hidden between us in the dark.

“Yes.”

“You’re not supposed to do that.”

My lips quirk up a little. “Did you enjoy it, angel?” I croon, watching her shiver as I slide my hands up further to cup her ribcage beneath the thin cotton of her sleep shirt. It’s familiar, the press of my fingers to her skin. Future Remi was not shy about her body. She’d considered me hers, time fluctuations be damned and she’d made that very clear by demanding my hands on her at all times—pressing her side to mine, twining our fingers together, enticing me to curl around her while she slept, her hands holding mine to the skin of her waist, my fingers just brushing the underside of her breasts. Yes, future Remi was anything but shy.

This Remi however, doesn’t know me yet, doesn’t know the delight, the comfort of our bodies against each other in every possible way, doesn’t know our souls are somehow intertwined. Star-crossed. She holds the blade tighter to my throat. “Start. Talking.” She enunciates, a scowl on her face as I brush a thumb across her skin, too close to the curve of her breast to be accidental.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” I laugh quietly, keeping voice low in the deserted corridor, moonlight streaming in from the solitary window.

Her fingers tighten on the blade. “Try me.”

I decide enough is enough. I let my shadows curl around it, freezing her hand in place and pull the dagger from her immovable fingers. “I’ll take that.” I slide it into an empty sheath at my thigh, watching her scowl deepen, her eyes widening a little. A flicker of fear graces her features, only for a moment before her face smooths over in a mask of calm—but it’s enough. I don’t like that expression. I don’t like that I put it there.

“Remi.” I coo gently, letting one hand slide up the side of her neck. “I’m not going to hurt you, I promise.” Not ever.

She breathes deeply, trying to calm her racing heart. “I don’t know you. Your promises mean nothing to me.” Her gaze falls to the shadows swirling around us, their movement calm and soothing as they slide over her arms.

I lean my head down, slowly bringing my forehead to rest against hers. “Yes, you do.” I murmur knowingly, tapping a single finger against her chest, above her heart. “You know me, here.” Just like somehow I’d known her. That night on the flight field and in every moment after. I’d known her.

“Look at me.” I command, something soft and pleased curling through my chest as she does so immediately, her eyes meeting mine. “Kiss me.” I make sure it comes out as a request this time, rather than a demand. “Kiss me and you’ll know.”

Her eyes widen slightly, uncertainty and disbelief warring on her face. “There’s no way—”

“Your body knows mine.” I interrupt softly, my fingers tracing patterns on her skin. “All your quiet upset, all your hurt…it disappears in the face of my touch.” I slide a hand up to cup the back of her neck. “Close your eyes, Remi.” I command, my thumb pressing over her carotid as I walk her backwards, pushing insistently until her back is against the wall. “Close your eyes and feel.”

I watch, silent and resolute, until her eyelids finally flutter, hiding away that beautiful hazel. My thumb brushes gently over her thrumming pulse. “Good girl.” She jolts slightly, her jaw clenching as a flush stains her cheeks red.

“You’re so beautiful.” I croon, lips pressing lightly against the skin just below her ear, the spot I'd quickly learned draws a quiet, pleasured sound from her every time. My breath skates over her ear and I let my thumbs return to brushing soft circles beneath the cotton of her sleep shirt, just barely grazing a nipple. Her breath hitches.

“It’s just me.” I mouth against her, pressing my lips gently to her jawline. “You’d never let a stranger this close—let someone unknown this near to your throat.” My teeth graze over her artery as the words leave my mouth, my tongue flicking out to soothe her. “Only me.”

Her chest heaves as she breathes faster, her head tilting back against the stone wall behind her. Her eyelids flutter for a moment and I make a sharp, insistent sound. They quickly close once more, her brow furrowing as she screws her face up, as if willing herself not to peek. That same pleased, dominant part of me rises in my chest again. “Good.” I praise, sliding a hand down to cup the curve of her ass. Her lips part.

“Ri-Riorson—” She breathes quietly, “I don’t—”

“Xaden.” I interrupt, but don’t give her the chance to correct herself. I press our lips together adamantly, reaching down for her hands to guide them to my neck. Her fingers spasm for a moment, like she’s not sure what to do with them, completely overwhelmed by the feel of my body against hers, my teeth tugging softly at her lower lip as I try to make her feel a fraction of what I do—what I did, within moments of meeting her.

Finally, they curl inward, gripping the back of my neck as she kisses me in turn. My shoulders fall as I relax, leaning into her as she parts my lips with her tongue, kissing me slowly, explorative. Every nerve in my body lights up as if gravitating toward her and I don’t hesitate to wrap her in my arms, cradling her protectively as I respond in kind. Mine. Mine, mine, mine. The word runs on repeat inside my head. The Remi from before might have been mine too, in a way, but this one…she belongs with me. We’re going to grow together.

“Tell me you feel it.” I beg when she pulls back, gasping for air. Tell me I’m not crazy. That I’m not alone.

“I don’t understand.” Her breath hitches, like she’s trying not to cry, but as she says it, she drops her head to my chest, curling into me like the only place she’ll ever be safe again is in my arms.

“It’s a long story.” I admit, a soft smile curving my lips, “but my dragon tells me we’re anam cara.” She looks up at me with tear-lined eyes, her gaze questioning. “Our souls are intertwined.” I elaborate with more care and gentleness than I think I’ve ever shown another human being, let alone the child of someone who—no, not going there. Not now. “Every life that we’re born into, we find each other. Again and again.”

Her lip wobbles. “People say that I only have half a soul.” My brow furrows and I follow the flick of her eyes towards the door down the hall. A quiet laugh escapes me.

“Well that would certainly explain a few things.” I murmur, reaching up to cup the back of her head, pulling her close. I’m not willing to be separated from her just yet.

She frowns, pulling back obstinately. “What does that mean?” I don’t answer, lips tipping upward in amusement as she tries to hide her annoyance. “Hey, I asked you a question.” She snaps, a fierce glare on her face, “tell me what you mean!” Her voice rises in volume. “We sure as hell aren’t soulmates if you think I’m going to fucking share—”

“Would you keep it down?” I hiss, covering her mouth with my hand. “Amari, you’re so fucking difficult, if I—” I snatch my hand back, gritting my teeth against the pain as I look down to find a perfect half-moon of teeth marks marring my skin. “You bit me? Seriously?” I ask, clenching my jaw. This woman—

“I’d have driven my knee into your balls, but I’m gathering they might be of use to me at some point.” She spits, venomous words every bit as cutting as I’d been warned about. “Wouldn’t want to damage them.” A sarcastic smile tilts her mouth and I want to be angry, I do, but somehow I find myself mirroring her, an identical smile on my face.

A smile. Gods. When was the last time I— “Never. Now hurry up and explain things to her before you ruin it.” I’m startled from my thoughts by Sgaeyl’s voice in my mind. Not one for patience, my girl. Neither is my woman it seems, judging by the look of growing irritation on her face. No wonder the pair of them apparently get along, they’re just as cutting and ruthless as each other.

“Do you believe me?” I ask quietly, reaching out to brush a lock of her hair behind her ear.

“Not if you think—��

“I’m not interested in your sister.” I explain patiently, “but my dragon’s mate will be, just over a year from now, at your Threshing.”

She swallows hard. “What?” She croaks. Before another word can leave my mouth, she’s shaking her head. “That’s…my sister’s going to be a scribe.” She denies. “They can’t bond scribes. So your dragon’s mate is just going to have to get over themselves.”

I choke on a laugh. “I’ll let you tell him that—just over a year from now.”

She fumes, gritting her teeth together. “I’ll tell him right now. He needs to—”

I cut her off with a kiss. “No you won’t.” I murmur against her lips. “And are you being obtuse on purpose? I just told you, you time traveled.”

She gapes. “Uh…no. No you didn’t!” The words are hissed, low and quiet in the hallway. “What the fuck are you talking about?” Her hand grips my wrist with enough force to bruise.

“You time-travelled.”

Remi blinks. “No. I didn’t.”

I stare at her bemused. “I was there.”

“And I wasn’t?” She arches a brow. “Logic would dictate that if I travelled back in time, I would approach myself to coach me on what to do.”

“No.”

She folds her arms over her chest. “I think I would know better than some…some rider, what I would do.” She rolls her eyes.

“Apparently not.” I contest. “But don’t worry, I came prepared.” I pull a sealed piece of parchment from the interior pocket of my flight jacket, holding it out to her. “You wrote this, for yourself.” For emergencies only. In case I ever needed it. This counts as an emergency, right? “I assume it contains something only you would know.” And as desperate as I am to know what exactly that is, I’ve restrained myself every time my fingers have itched to open it.

She frowns disbelievingly before cracking the seal, unfolding the missive. Her eyes flit from side to side, squinting in the dim light to read it. Slowly, they grow wider. Her gaze flits between reading each new paragraph and looking up at me. Again and again. Her lips have formed a small ‘o’ by the time she’s done and I tilt my head, reaching out for the letter. “What did she—”

“No!” Remi tears it away from me, folding it into the tiniest square she can, like it’s a knee-jerk reaction. “No, I…I believe you.” What the hell had been in that letter? I watch bemusedly as she shoves it into the waistband of her underwear.

“That’s not a deterrent.”

Her cheeks redden. “Shut up.” She snaps, kicking out at me with her foot. “She says you’re an idiot and this is not an emergency.” My eyebrows climb higher.

“She does, ok.” I make it clear how little I believe that.

“She does!” Remi protests.

“Ok.” I smile slyly. “Why don’t you show me exactly where she said that?” I coax, brushing my hands over her ribs, skating them lower and lower. Before I can reach her waistband she squirms, catching my hands in her own.

“Stop that.” She steps back a little, pressing my hands into my own chest, retreating as she reaches for the letter once more. She unfolds it slowly, looking from the parchment, to me, and back to the parchment once more, her teeth worrying her lower lip uncertainly.

“Remi, you don’t have to.” I sigh softly, folding it back over with one hand, pushing it towards her. The expression on her face is achingly vulnerable.

“I doesn’t exactly paint us in the best light.” She forces out.

“It’s ok.” I reassure her. “I was only joking.” She reads the lie on my face, that much is obvious, but given the lie is for her benefit…slowly, she passes it back toward me. “Are you sure?”

When she nods, she’s looking away, like she can’t bear to watch, to see any expression that might cross my face as I read it.

Xaden Riorson,—

I wonder if Remi recognised her own handwriting.

—you’re an idiot and so, so predictable. It’s like you think I don’t know you at all. This in no way constitutes an emergency. If I didn’t love you so much, I’d leave you to win her over your damn self. Grow a pair, would you? Honestly.

I stare, affronted at the words on the page. What the fuck? How is this helping me? For fuck’s sake. I keep reading, hoping that she’ll have changed her tune in the next few paragraphs, even if my Remi will have already seen it.

Remi, hi, it’s me. You. Us.

So this is fucking weird, huh? You didn’t have time travel on your bingo card. I know, because I didn’t and I’m you.

Since you’re me, you probably aren’t convinced any of this is real. A guy like that, looking like…well him, showing up out of nowhere, claiming to be your future? Yeah, I’d have called bullshit too. Here’s the thing, I never had to, because I won him over. That’s right, I fought tooth and fucking nail for this guy and thanks to an unfortunate incident of time travel (dragon magic, don’t ask) and his indomitable stubbornness, you won’t have to.

Still not convinced? Yeah, I wouldn’t be either. So let me convince you because that man, he’ll be the best thing to ever happen to you. Well, almost. It’s a tie for first place with a Green Daggertail. You’ll know her when you see her.

Anyway I know it’s hard. I could tell you any number of secrets, any number of things we keep to ourselves, that we’ve never told a soul—where the raunchiest of your books are kept, what really happened to that amphora of King Tauri’s, the events of that night when you were fifteen, when you thought about jumping from the turret—

My eyes flit up to her face in alarm. I force myself to glance back down at the page, swallowing hard. I know instinctively that this is what she never wanted me to read and I force myself not to react, to pretend I’m still reading calmly, while my eyes glaze over and my heart clenches in my chest. Eventually, I manage to decipher words once more.

—none of that, even being known to few others, would convince you. Our logical mind could—will—wave all that away. We live in a world where information is more valuable than anything else, where there are people who can—and will—read your mind. The only thing I can tell you is this: Xaden Riorson will love you more than anyone on this planet. He’ll protect you, cherish you, and put you above all else. Repeatedly. It might take time, but eventually you’ll be his first priority.

And you’ll love him that much in return. Listen to your heart, to the way you feel in his arms. Safe. Loved. What you could have is worth fighting for. Take the leap.

Oh, and Remi? Keep trying to be kinder to your sister. She does love you, I promise.

There’s no signature—it hardly needs one. I take a moment to absorb everything, before finally looking up to where Remi is still facing away from me, focusing obstinately on the wall opposite. “She didn’t want to change things.” I say finally. “She said that’s why she wouldn’t come to you. She wanted things to remain as close to the original timeline as possible, I just stumbled upon her by accident.”

Finally, she turns to face me. “I don’t think it was.” She offers, her voice hoarse. “Not if what you…and her…have to say is true.”

“An accident?” I ask gently and she nods.

“I…I could really use somewhere safe right now.” I’m across the hall in an instant, pulling her to me, tucking her head beneath my chin.

“You’re mine, anam cara.” I murmur in the dragon-tongue. “You’re safe.” I hold her tight. “Tell me what made you sad—who made you cry.” And I’ll gut them like fish from the Iakobos.

She leans in. “Tell me about us, first. Everything she told you.”

“Deal.” It’s an easy one to make. “Come on, grab your comforter and come with me. There’s a lake with our names all over it and a dragon who’d really like to meet you.”

#basgiath (remi's version)#brv: intertwining souls #see the masterlist for part one

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leclerity · 3 months

Text

Two truths and a lie, you tell yourself as you enter the club.

The bouncer does a passable salute as you walk past him, giving him the slightest breeze of a hand across his waist.

One: You are not looking to score tonight, by either of the definitions.

Your eyes adapt to the darkness interrupted by the flashing of the lights in a distant room as you get your stamp, the worker asking you questions about your night you give half-assed answers to.

Two: You will stick with your friends, do what they want to do, and end the night at their side.

Boys move past you as you walk through them, giving them enough time to part of their own volition – and they all do, for the price of a smile and a tempting look.

Three: You will not corrupt.

You reach your friends and they lead you to the table in the back, where drugs are scattered amongst the drinks. You take a pill, knowing whatever it is, it’s bound to be good – and you feel the buzz in your system, the colours intensifying, and the feeling of detachment from the floor pouring over you.

Already, you are looking out. The crowd is full tonight and the room reeks of sweat, spilled drinks, of the needs and the wants and people who are looking for someone to spend the night with, to bury their sorrows or sins in. You lick the rim of the drink you’d taken off the table, saltyiness sending shivers down your spine.

Lights flash, then slow down, illuminating each corner of the room. The room tenses—the beat is about to drop—and the spirit of the night reveals itself as your sight lands on a pretty boy with a recognisable face, and phones pointed in his direction.

A sense of elation—a rush of adrenaline—washes over you. He doesn’t look your way, not yet, but you know where the night is about to take you.

Plot twist, you chuckle to yourself. Those were all lies.

INTRODUCING:

a short charles x dark!reader series in which the reader's affection corrupts the racing star, driving him away from the car and towards what could become one of the greatest scandals in the sport's history.

18+ only, as themes of substance abuse, toxic relationships and sexual content will be present in varying degrees. heavily inspired by hozier's song from eden.

this will consist of 10 chapters, which you can find links to below:

coming soon

i hope you're as excited for this as i am, so please let me know if you want to be tagged when the chapters are out!

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #formula 1 rpf #formula 1 fanfic #m.fic #so excited for this one!!! please give it some love #it's going to be a short one but my first series on here!! buzzing!!#i have a rough outline for the entire thing but we'll see how the wordcount changes for the chapters #part one should be either by the end of this week or beginning of next #i've got a few things to attend to for the rest of the week but should be free afterwards to work on this #also this post serves as the series masterlist so it's easily accessible

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shanastoryteller · 1 year

Text

Happy Pride 2023 Prompts

AKATSUKI NO YONA Excluded, Part 2

AVATAR THE LAST AIRBENDER Ace!Zuko/Mai Modern ATLA AU

AVENGERS Three Faced Goddess

CHARMED The Once and Future King, Chris, Part 4

FULLMETAL ALCHEMIST Colonel Elric, Part 7 Ed and Ling are Betrothed, Part 10 Colonel Elric, Part 8

GODS AND MONSTERS Hestia and Hera Aphrodite on Hera

GOOD OMENS Supreme Archangel Raphael

HADES GAME Living Blood, Part 12 Living Blood, Part 13 Living Blood, Part 14

HARRY POTTER Time Travel Drarry, Part 6 Harry and the Twins, Part 26 Draco the Muggle Expert, Part 44 Triwizard Champion Draco, Part 12 Time Travel Drarry, Part 7 Triwizard Champion Draco, Part 13 SIAT Fruity Wolfstar Draco and the Twins, Part 34 SIAT Pansy SIAT Sophia SIAT Severus and Florean SIAT Tonks's Parents

MERLIN Ygraine, Part 5 Ygraine, Part 6

NARUTO The Yamanaka Twins - The Fourth

NIRVANA IN FIRE Girl Yan Yujin

PERCY JACKSON Momma Hera, Part 41

STAR TREK Jim Sybok Buddy Fic, Part 5 Jim Sybok Buddy Fic, Part 6

STAR WARS Ben and Poe, Part 3

TED LASSO Which Crisis

UNTAMED Lady Mo, Part 40 Lady Mo, Part 41 Marriage Assassin WQ, Part 9 First Disciple WWX, Part 14 Lady Mo, Part 42 First Disciple WWX, Part 15 Jiang Cheng Time Travel, Part 3 Lady Mo, Part 43 Lady Mo, Part 44 Girl Wei Wuxian, Part 12 Lady Mo, Part 45 Lady Mo, Part 46 First Disciple WWX, Part 16 Identity Porn AU, Part 4 Lady Mo, Part 47

WELCOME TO NIGHT VALE Carlos

YURI ON ICE Coach Yuuri, Part 6

#masterlist #the one masterlist to rule them all has also been updated #i think lady mo has the most parts of any prompts rn #wild

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wiltedkyinn · 1 year

Text

his favorite girl (Mason Thames x f! reader)

warning; mention of weed(everytime i write celeb! reader i have to make them a stoner), mentions sex jokes, motorcycle mason !!, cliffhanger😭

will have a part two !!

world count; 1k.

synopsis; when you and your boyfriend, mason. Who's a fellow actor on How to train your dragon, get caught on a date by fans. How are you going to answer to the question at the premiere?

•

Me and Mase are finally going out. We see each other almost 24/7 already, due to working on the same movie. While we spend an ample amount of time, it doesn't feel the same as going out. When we're alone, its the most happiest times of my life. Seeing his shy smile every time i look at him for what he deems too long,(i dont think i could never look at him just for a couple seconds, his beauty would take me hours to see and understand it fully.) The way he holds on to me, such passion that makes me believe that that would be the last time we hold eachother. His eyes glints when his talking about his next scene he's doing. The way his ears turn a blush red when i make a suggestive joke. i cant ever get enough. he's like my addiction, feeling an all time high with him.

While we agreed to go out, we couldn't dress up much. not trying to bring more attention then we have already. i opted out for a off the shoulder neckline crop top , with a deep red base color with black skulls on the front. for my pants are black men cargo pants. pairing the outfit i wore my black air force 1's with five bracelets and two dainty one on the other hand. I also layered a (f/c) necklace it had a M carved in it, gave by mason on my birthday, put together with a sun necklace. Glueing on my lashes and doing a simple black smokey eye, i brushed on a small amount of primer,foundation, concealer and bronzer to add warmth. i heard my music quiet down with a quick ding! i looked over at my phone to see a message notification, loml👩‍❤️‍👨.

loml👩‍❤️‍👨

Outside ml, u ready?

read at 9:48 pm.

ab to be

come inside, its fine

read at 9:49 pm.

i heard the front door open, i turned down my music to hear his footsteps better. i soon heard him open the room's door. i quickly saw his blonde curls and his dorky smile. "hey my gorgeous girl," he walked towards me and planted a kiss on my head. i hooked my hands on the back of his neck and look up. more then happy to give him a semi-proper kiss. "hey handsome." i look lovingly in his eyes. he kisses my nose, "you look amazing (name)" he smiles and pulls away. i finally take an actual look at him. he wore a red hoodie and his black cargo pants.

"i think you stole my outfits" i playfully narrow my eyes at him. "hm? but im the one ready, so you stole my outfit." he chuckled at the end. Jesus he is so gorgeous, he's more than perfect. beyond it, in all actuality. he noticed you staring at him more then needed. his shy smile took place of his equally as handsome square smile. "what? do i have something on my face?" his voice was squeaky, pointing more to the fact he has nervous. i giggled at him, i would never get tired of him.

"so wheres everybody?" he asked, he didnt really see my family a whole lot. "ma and my stepmom are out on a date or something, my brother is with my grandma. so its just me and the cats and dogs" i shrugged. "they left you alone?" he quirked an eyebrow. i got up and rummaged my bed. "yeah it's whatever" i found it, the slim black battery that has shango labeled on it, on-top a cartridge fulled with wax. i sat back down a took a hit. i pulled out my hand and silently asked if he wanted to hit it. he thought about it then took it. "mase you dont have too." feeling scared of pressuring him. he coughed after exhaling the last bit of smoke, "its okay, im a big boy" he joked.

i brushed my hair one last time before being happy with the results. "okay im all done." getting up once again and stretching my back to pop it. i grabbed the cart again and inhaled a big amount. exhaling it and coughing a little. mase thought this was funny. i didn't. "girl" i put up my hand and give him a "mean girl" look. he did the same, "girl.." swinging his hip. i grabbed his hand and started to walk out of the room. him complying easily, letting me lead and guide.

i grabbed the keys and locked the door before returning my hands back into his. in full veiw i saw his jet black glittery motorcycle. he handed me a helmet. a light pink with hello kitty sticker and he put his on, a vibrant red with a spider man sticker on the side. he gripped your hands on his waist keeping a semi slight grip on him. he giggled and held your hands before revving and soon riding the roads with winds whipping against the helmet. you ease your grip and lay your head on his shoulder. feeling contempt and safe with him.

he soon stopped by the park, step one to his plan. He had made chocolate strawberries, a small bouquet of flowers, and a bowl of your favorite fruits. you look at the set up breathless, then turned the attention to mason. i pull him into a hug while giving more then generous sum of kisses everywhere on his face. "mason this is so thoughtful, i cant describe how grateful i am," you say into the side of neck. nuzzling more into him, suddenly wanting to smell him.

"its the least i can do for my favorite girl" he says back, kissing the side and top of your head.

#x reader #fluff #miguel cazarez mora #the black phone x reader #mason thames #mason thames x you #how to train a dragon 2 #how to train your dragon #romance #part one #his favorite girl #Mason thames masterlist #celeb reader #weed reader #fem reader #mason x fem reader

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imaginedreamwrite · 1 year

Text

Like No One Does

Part 1: An Empty Line

The block of text had made you take a pause when you stepped back into the back room for a moment, the name across the top of the screen was one you’d never really texted before. You were aware that Danah had given Ari Levinson your number, she’d admitted to it a few years ago; however, you’d never received or read any of the texts he attempted to send.

Before today.

Now, the text message was staring up at you while you were running off your feet dragging around bottles of champagne for rich and snobby councillors in the city. It was short, it was to the point, but there was an adage of flirtatiousness that seemed to hang under the initial message.

'I need an assistant. Hear me out before you turn me down, sweetheart.’

You had wanted to ignore the message, you wanted to delete the text and act like you’d never received it in the first place. It would’ve been easy enough to act like there was a glitch, and you’d never gotten the text in the first place. It would’ve been easy to act like you weren’t being poached by your childhood best friend’s older brother, a notorious flirt.

You and Danah were opposites, in many societal ways.

Danah Levinson was born wealthy to parents who made themselves a healthy living by opening and running four different bakeries and cafés in the city. Each of them was inspired by Jewish food with stark reviews that had led the businesses to have a thriving following and loyal customers.

You were born to a low-income family with parents who had struggled to get pregnant in the first place. While you were loved and cared for to the best of your parents' abilities, their health issues had always seemed to overshadow most of your life, leaving you struggling at the best of times.

You had met Danah when you were 8, after your mother had visited in the hospital during a sick spell by Danah’s mother as a community outreach volunteer. Her mother was one of the kindest people you’d ever met, a bleeding heart who had expelled as much help upon your family as possible.

It was her mother who had helped you get into a better school through sponsorship, and it was Danah’s parents who had helped take you in when both of your parents had grown too sick and needed to be in hospital for weeks. Regardless of the societal standings that were different for yourself and Danah, you had become best friends.

You were thick as thieves, and throughout your years of being best friends with Danah Levinson, you’d gained a lifelong friend and sister.

When you were accepted into university under a scholarship, Danah and yourself had become roommates, and you’d often be sent care packages from her mother as if you were her daughter as well.

Through Danah, you had known Ari Levinson. Her brother was well known to be a notorious flirt, someone who rarely showed up to Sunday night dinners without someone on his arm. There always seemed to be a date or a fling on his arm, no matter the occasion, and it was a sight you’d gotten used to over the years.

It had pissed Danah off to no end, seeing these girls hang around her brother, who were quick flings. She had never approved of a single date her brother had, though both of them knew that the dates he chose to be with were temporary and nothing had gone past a few weeks.

When you were 19, you had experienced Ari Levinson’s flirtations for the first time. You’d spent the summer with Danah after your first year of university at her parents' place, and that was when it had begun. You’d been blissfully unaware of whatever attraction Ari might have had for you until Danah had scolded him for flirting, considering that you’d had a boyfriend.

Once you were aware of it, it was almost hard to miss the way he would let little comments slip. During the fast Hanukkah you’d spent with Danah and her family, when you were 19, Ari had deliberately gotten you different gifts than he had given his sister.

With the last night of Hanukkah being the time when he had given you the nickname ‘Princess’ along with a charm that was meant to bring you good luck. It was nothing you’d looked too far into, since you were on the rocks with your boyfriend, and you were missing your parents, who had died a year and half prior.

The next year of university, the last year before you dropped the program, Ari had offered a few internships through his company that was skyrocketing in value and power in the business world. During these trips to the school, he would take Danah out to dinner, and offer the chance for you to go with them, though you had sparsely joined in.

After you had dropped out of university to dive into work to pay down your parents' medical bills, Danah and you had continued to have that inseparable friendship and sisterhood. Nothing had changed with the Levinson’s, you were still invited to Sunday dinners, you had still watched movies on Thursday nights with Danah.

And every Hanukkah, Ari had gifted you a little charm that had correlated with the one from the year prior.

You never allowed yourself to look too far into the gifts, you never allowed yourself to think of everything you’d been given as anything more than him taking some kind of pity on you. You wouldn’t allow yourself to imagine the possibility of this infamous playboy and flirt, who had always seemed to have someone new on his arm.

Likewise, you had too much chaos in your life as it was, too many other things to focus on, and your best friend’s older brother was not one of them. Danah had, to her credit, told Ari to fuck off on more than one occasion on your behalf, though you wondered if her reasoning was because of his past with exes.

She didn’t want to lose you as a friend if you happened to go out with Ari and things hadn’t worked out, nor did she want things to be uncomfortable with her brother.

'Don’t leave me on read, give me an answer.’ His next message had re-centred your focus, and you’d looked at the message before you hastily sent a reply and shoved your phone into the deep depths of your bag.

'I’m busy at work. I can’t talk.’ You set your phone away and stepped out of the back room. You were heading through the walkway behind the front of the high-end restaurant, stopping at a table with a fake smile plastered on your face.

Every part of your body ached when you started the climb to your apartment. The seemingly endless day of catering to people who wouldn’t have cared about you if you hadn’t been the one bringing their food, was grating on your every nerve. That fake plastered smile and the unseemly way you had to tamp down your true feelings about being verbally or physically accosted by people who didn’t give you a shit, was all becoming too much.

Unfortunately, with you dropping out of university halfway through your degree, it had left you with student loans that were piled on top of your parents' medical bills. Between the three avenues for loans, you were left desperate for work and would have taken anything you possibly could. As it was, you were working two jobs already to pay down the debt that was saddled to you, and you were drawing your energy down to dismal levels.

You dropped your things by the front door of your apartment and slammed the door behind you, with more force than necessary, and walked into your bedroom. You stripped out of your work clothes and kicked them to the side in favour of a pair of sweats, and one of your old campus tees. You yanked both of them on, and secured your hair off your shoulders before you left your bedroom.

You moved across your small apartment and walked into the kitchen, barefoot and tired. You had no drive to spend more energy making something, and your instinctual desire was to grab a package of ramen and rip the top open. After drumming the flavour into the bag and shaking it up, you moved toward your couch and crashed onto the left side.

You turned the tv on and put whatever your remote first settled on, using it more for background noise than anything. As the series started, you picked at your dry ramen noodles and ate what you could, your attention drifting toward your phone. You unlocked your screen and first went to instagram.

The first post you’d seen when the app loaded was one of Danah’s, the first few pictures were of herself and her on again-off again boyfriend, the one that Ari really didn’t like. The next three were pictures of the Sunday night dinner they had together, the tags linked to how she felt annoyed by her older brother.

You scrolled down to the other few posts in your feed before you came upon an ad for some clothes, something you’d never buy for yourself, but it was targeted to your age group. Without watching the whole ad, you continued to scroll, and your thumb had hovered above one of your high school friends that you’d followed, when another message from Ari had come through.

Messages that you had missed, or ones that had come through later than they should have.

'You busy, sweetheart? Danah said you were working all night. Come out with me, I wanna talk to you.’

'I know you’re ignoring me, princess.’

'You’re not giving me a choice, baby. I’m coming to talk to you.’

You were already halfway through texting back when three solid knocks on your apartment door had interrupted you. You tossed your phone to the side and stood from where you had been sitting on the couch, Netflix still playing in the background.

As you slowly opened the door, your heart both plummeted and stopped beating with a single look at the man on the other side. Ari was waiting for you on the other side of the door, not wearing his usual tailored Armani or Tom Ford suit. He was wearing a pair of dark wash jeans, making him look even taller than he was, and the shirt he was wearing a Patriots shirt that he’d had for years.

“What are you doing here? I mean…why are you here?” He had smiled down at you, one foot crossed over the other, and his shoulder was resting against the doorframe.

“I don’t like being ignored, princess. You going to let me in, so we can talk?” His smile was charming, and that playboy personality that so many women had fallen for was clearly flourishing.

You’d heard of some of his exes in the past, and Danah had not been shy about talking about the women she had met, had given you the impression that Ari was almost entirely insatiable. Though you personally had never met any of his exes or his hookups, you couldn’t have avoided them entirely. It was impossible for you not to have knowledge of his vivacious love life, even if you hadn’t been a visual witness.

“You show up to my place unannounced and just think I’m going to let you in because you don’t like being ignored?” You crossed your arms over your chest, your eyes zeroing in on the takeout bags in his hands.

“I hope you weren’t going to eat that shit, baby.” Ari scoffs at the idea of you eating dried uncooked noodles, the bag that’s still in your hand. “I bought your favourite.”

“You don’t know my favourite.” You step aside and let him in anyway, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

As he moves further into your apartment, small as it is, he sets the takeout bags on the secondhand coffee table you have, and then he looks back at you. Regardless of you being best friends with Danah since you were children, and the obvious societal differences between you and the Levinson’s, their entire family treated you like you were their own.

“Give me some credit, sweetheart.” His grin, and his eyes, had become more pronounced and brighter respectively. “I know more about you than you think.”

“Why are you here anyway? You have any idea how late it is?” You keep yourself at a distance, watching Ari with thinly veiled interest as he unpacks the food he brought for you, his smirk still present.

“You ignored me.”

“I was working.” You argued your case, and crossed your arms over your chest as he sat down on your couch. Your random Netflix show was still playing in the background, and Ari had moved your iPhone to the coffee table, effortlessly making himself at home.

“You work too hard, princess.” You swore he used pet names more than your birth given name, the affectionate little quips had been something you were accustomed to. “We should talk.”

“About the job you want me to take? Or about the fact that you broke into my apartment—“ “Babe,” Ari’s grin widened, and he laughed huskily, “you let me in. I didn’t break in, besides we’re hardly strangers.”

You were at odds with yourself, knowing that he was right, and you had let him in. And you were irritated with your body’s natural reaction to the smell of the spices that radiated from the takeout container. Ari likely had gotten your favourite, it smelled the same, and it was from the same restaurant that was a favourite with yourself and Danah.

“So you bring food to coerce me?” You inched forward, sitting down on the edge of the couch as tension, both sexual and physical, bubbled between you two.

“You’re not that easy, darling.” Ari had spoken with admiration, and slid a container toward you. “But I thought we could talk in person. After you eat.”

“I was eating—“

“That shit?” Ari scoffed and reached out toward you, pulling the sleeve of your old campus t-shirt up your shoulder. “That’s not food, that’s…”

“Food that needs to be cooked.” You mumbled under your breath and sat cross-legged on the couch, popping the lid off the container, your stomach growling. “Ramen is delicious, by the way.”

Ari handed you a fork, without saying a word to you after your latest protest, and slowly sank back onto the couch cushion. He grabbed his container, setting it on his thick thigh, and then looked at you out the corner of his eyes. His blue irises were breathtaking, another feature of his that had stolen hearts left right and centre, and you’d often been intimated by the colour.

“You look tired.” It was an observation made while he watched you eat, almost like he was proud of himself for taking care of you, albeit momentarily. “You’re going to kill yourself working this hard, love. And then what?”

“Then you’ll have to find someone else to annoy.” You rolled your eyes, barely retaining your ignorance of the way he was looking at you, and the way he was speaking to you.

Danah hated when Ari flirted with you because she was afraid of losing someone who was like her sister, and she was scared that Ari would break your heart.

And you were just stubborn enough to keep yourself emotionally distant from anyone wanting to potentially ask you out or date you. You had to keep yourself focused and pay off the debts that you incurred from student loads, and the debts that fell to you from your parents' medical history.

“I’m serious, sweetheart. I’m not leaving until you hear me out, at least.” Ari had popped the lid off his own takeout container and started eating with you, almost like you were a normal couple.

Almost as if he weren’t your best friends’ older brother, and you weren’t a single emergency away from being broke entirely.

“It’s triple what you would make working both your jobs, you’d get benefits and damn good ones. Medical insurance, three weeks vacation…” Ari reached out toward you, his hand cupping your chin as he turned your head and made you look at him.

“I travel a lot, you would come with me. You could get the hell out of this shit-hole.”

“I like my shit-hole.” You felt your heart fluttering, tension was thickening as a figurative electrical storm was brewing between you. “But if it suits his majesty, I’ll think about it.”

“Good,” his smile, and eyes, softened, “good girl. Finish eating your dinner. I have rugelach for you.”

“From your mother?” You smiled to yourself, halfway done the food he brought for you. “She makes the best rugelach I’ve ever had.”

Ari dropped his hand from your chin, to pull your shirt back up your shoulder. His fingers had lingered for a minute, before he pulled away and reached for your remote. He looked back toward your cheap television and ended the show you had been watching, speaking softly to you.

“I’m putting something else on.”

#ceo!Ari Levinson x reader #ceo!Ari Levinson x female!Reader #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson x female!Reader #ari levinson x reader fluff #best friend’s brother!Ari Levinson #best friend’s older brother!Ari Levinson x reader #like no one does series #like no one does part 1 #like no one does masterlist #like no one does

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gravitywonagain · 10 days

Text

Jack of All Trades

(a Fresh Powder in the Pine Trees story in three vignettes)

Sometimes when you’re working at Juniors’ Club, you’re actually doing any number of other jobs around Cloud Recesses.

Ski Patrol

Sometimes, you’re just faster than Ski Patrol...

“Lan Zhan!”

Wei Ying waves his free arm around, flagging down Lan Zhan who, to his credit, skis directly over to him.

He watches Lan Zhan take in the scene as he approaches: Wei Ying, one foot strapped into his board, holding a child and their board in his arms, a small amount of blood running down the child’s leg. There is, also, an adult skier sitting nearby looking suitably chastened. Lan Zhan is smart, he’ll put it together.

“Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan. I need you to watch my students. Take them back to JC, I’ll meet you there. I need to get this little guy to Wen Qing and that guy,” he jerks his head at the skier, ignoring the eight-year-old’s protests at being called ‘little,’ “needs to come with me.” He keeps his voice calm and light, but his face, he knows, shows his anger.

“Can you wait for Ski Patrol?”

“Lan Zhan. There's blood on the snow and these kids are eight. No. I cannot wait for Ski Patrol.”

“Are you--”

“Lan Zhan.”

“Yes. I will meet you at Juniors’ Club.”

Thank the Heavens for Lan Zhan and his fucking serenity. Wei Ying draws on it for the briefest of moments before he moves again. He feels steadier when he does.

“Thank you. Here,” he hands Lan Zhan the child’s snowboard, “take this, too.”

Lan Zhan nods at him and takes it.

Wei Ying turns to the students who are all still sitting so nicely on the snow. They really are being absolutely perfect. Lan Zhan will figure out how to compensate their parents for the truncated lesson, but Wei Ying will make them all extra hot chocolate or something when he gets back to JC.

He adjust his grip on the kid -- eight-year-olds are not light.

“Okay guys. This is Lan Zhan. He’s a skier, but he’s going to bring you guys back to the Clubhouse and hang out with you until I get back. Don’t worry, he’s super cool. You won’t even know I’m gone. Did you guys know he used to race?”

With that new distraction in place, Wei Ying shares another quick nod to Lan Zhan and skates over to the skier sitting on the snow. The man looks appropriately guilty so Wei Ying doesn’t feel the need to yell at him again. He steps his right foot into the binding -- kicking the straps out of the way with the toe of his boot, resolved to ride like he skates -- kid still in his arms, and nods.

“Come on. Let's go tell Ski Patrol what happened.”

The skier stands and follows him. He’s not quite as incompetent as he seemed when he hit Wei Ying’s student and they make it down the hill relatively quickly.

It’s awkward as hell, snowboarding with fifty pounds of eight-year-old in his arms. His center of gravity is so off and he can’t quite gather the speed he wants, both because it’s a green run and because he can’t let the skier out of his sight. But they make it to the clinic. The skier stays with him. Everything is fine.

Wen Qing yells at him for not waiting for Ski Patrol to stabilize the child’s leg before moving him. She waits until the kid is safe with his parents and the skier has been dealt with and is gone, of course, but it’s still loud.

“It’s just a laceration, Qing-jie. Ski Patrol would have freaked out my students and taken forever to get there.”

“A-Ning would have been there as fast as he could, and you know that.”

It’s true. Wen Ning has always been Wei Ying’s friend, but for the last few months, he’s been weirdly attentive. You get a nosebleed and pass out one time and suddenly your EMT friend comes sprinting whenever you call.

“As fast as he could is still not instantaneous.”

“Wei Ying --”

“I’m first aid certified, Qing-jie. He’ll be okay.”

“If he has so much as a sprain…” She points a finger at him, accusatory and threatening.

“If he has a sprain, he got it when the fucking skier hit him, not when I carried him down the mountain.”

“Okay.” Wen Qing seems mollified by this. “You’re dismissed. I want a copy of that incident report for my records.”

“Yes, Wen-daifu.”

“Don’t put that on me,” she says, exasperated but fond. The accusatory finger is back. “You have to wait!”

She’s starting her bachelor’s degree this summer and then med school. Wei Ying is so fucking proud of her.

Lan Zhan is sitting on one of the tiny benches when Wei Ying walks into the Clubhouse. It’s adorable. He does not fit at all, knees practically up to his ears. He’s surrounded by Wei Ying’s class and they’re all drawing or asking him questions or drinking hot chocolate and Wei Ying can’t help but smile at the scene. Lan Zhan, for his part, looks entirely comfortable. He has a purple mountains’ majesty crayon in his hand, poised above the paper in front of him while he answers one of the junior’s questions about rail slides on skis.

Wei Ying absolutely does not want to disturb any of this. But, alas, it is his job that Lan Zhan is doing and, no matter how outwardly calm he looks, Lan Zhan is probably very tired of eight-year-olds and their inexhaustible curiosity.

It’s almost time for their parents to come pick them up, anyway. Wei Ying will just sit there with them until it’s time. Maybe he’ll take them back out to the practice hill, but getting all of their gear back on sounds fucking exhausting.

One of the kids notices him and yells out, “Wing!” effectively ending the calm. The table turns to him, big smiles on the kids’ faces, something almost soft on Lan Zhan’s. Surprisingly, nobody spills their hot chocolate.

Lan Zhan raises an eyebrow and mouths, wing? at him, which is fair, but they’re eight and he only has them for like four hours so what are you going to do?

“Hey guys!” Wei Ying smiles brightly at Lan Zhan and the pack of juniors. “See, I told you you wouldn’t miss me. Lan Zhan’s pretty fun, isn’t he?”

A quick survey of the various hot chocolate levels in their cups leads Wei Ying to decide to spend a little bit longer inside. He settles himself down on the bench across from Lan Zhan, straddling it and dropping his knees almost to the floor, and starts engaging with the juniors. One of the kids shows him their drawing. Another very nearly spills their hot chocolate, but Wei Ying catches it just in time. He brushes off questions about their missing classmate and steers the conversation back toward snowboarding.

He looks up to see Lan Zhan’s eyes on him again, or maybe still, and suddenly the room is way too warm.

“Who wants to go out to the hill and get a few more turns in?”

The kids start jumping up, excited to go back out to the snow. Wei Ying busies himself with helping them gear back up for the cold. Lan Zhan helps, too, and soon everybody is ready to go.

On their way out the door, Wei Ying stops Lan Zhan and says, “You know you don’t have to stay with us, right? I’ve got it from here. I’m sure this isn’t how you expected to spend your afternoon.”

Lan Zhan nods, but it’s a confirmation of Wei Ying’s ability, not an agreement. “I will stay,” he says, “I need to speak with their parents anyway.”

Which is a totally valid reason and Wei Ying tries not to notice the way his stomach swooped at Lan Zhan’s easy “I will stay.”

Wei Ying leads the line of juniors out to the practice hill and gets the Magic Carpet running again. The rest of the hour passes easily: Wei Ying child wrangling and filling out report cards, Lan Zhan helping to catch kids and soothing parents’ concerns with promises of free lessons or ticket vouchers or something.

It’s easy, working with Lan Zhan. Too easy. Wei Ying could get used to how easy this is.

It’s a shame, really, that Lan Zhan mostly sticks to adult lessons. He’s so good with the kids. Bullying Lan Zhan into taking more JC lessons seems a bit out of Wei Ying’s self-appointed mission for this season, though. Maybe it’ll be his goal for next year.

Next year.

Wei Ying smiles to himself at the thought before an approximation of his name pulls him back to reality and he jogs to the top of the hill to help one of the juniors clear ice out of their toe clip.

“Someday you’re going to tell me how you got a bunch of eight-year-olds to sit and color for an hour,” says Wei Ying once they’re finally back inside.

“I told them it was useful for developing fine motor skills.”

Wei Ying raises an eyebrow, “And that worked?”

“I may have implied that refined fine motor skills would improve their reflexes in the terrain park.”

Wei Ying puts down the bright green vest in his hand and turns to Lan Zhan. “You told them coloring would make them better athletes?”

“I did.”

“I… I don’t know enough about childhood athletic development to dispute it.”

There’s a hint of a smile curling Lan Zhan’s lips, “Neither do I.”

[Next: Hot Chocolate Machine Whisperer]

#wangxian #mdzs #the untamed #fanfiction #ski resort au #i really wasn't sure how to format this one because it's in three parts but i'm just gonna do it in reblogs i think?#i'll make a masterlist for all of these later #fpitpt #my writing

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