#second hand as in like i watched people bullied for it and absorbing the fear and compliance rather than get bullied myself | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

adorerdraco · 4 years

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Malfoy’s Gone Soft! ✧ Draco x Reader

Summary: Draco, your boyfriend, is mean to everyone until you call him out for it.

Warnings: mentions of bullying :( and a couple profanities :0

Words: 2K

A/N: omg i wrote this on a whim while listening to the euphoria score soundtrack in like an hour idk if its all that but i have no idea what i’m going to do next for Healing Heart so for now i’m just going to write other things for Draco until i get inspired ! & feel free to send me requests ! also thank you for 100 followers you guys are amazingggg !!!!!!!!!!! *insert pouty emojy*

The sound of arrogant and boisterous laughter filled the courtyard, the Slytherin Prince and his minions were tossing around a book bag that a helpless 2nd year Hufflepuff was chasing around every time it was thrown to another boy. One of the boys yelled a foul, “mudblood!” that made the boy tear up as he reached and jumped up for his bag that was in the air every few seconds. It was nothing new to the school, Draco and his band of bullies would bother anyone who they found as an easy target just for the fun of it.

Unfortunately for Draco, you had been passing by through one of the corridors with a group of friends when you had seen the fiasco. As much as you adored your boyfriend, you couldn’t deny the sometimes nasty persona that he had and how much it bothered you. He would always swear up and down that he would stop his antics, but you often encountered him or heard from other people of him being in the same situations that he had promised would stop.

You marched your way over to the group, a fire in your step and your eyes fixated on Draco who was laughing like a fool. You watched as Goyle rushed to elbow Draco’s side, earning him a look until he had pointed in your direction. All joy in the blond’s face quickly drained once he saw your vexed expression heading towards him.

The book bag had dropped from his hands onto the stoned courtyard ground, the young Hufflepuff hastily grabbed it and ran off in tears back into the castle. You stomped up to Draco, noticing how he had visibly swallowed in fear at what your reaction would be.

“What happened to, ‘I swear I’ll stop being a git to everyone!’” You asked him incredulously, mocking his voice as you quoted him.

“Malfoy said that?” Blaise chuckled as if it were a joke. Both you and Draco turned to give him a frenzied look.

“Y/N, I...” Draco trailed off, looking around at his friends who were awaiting his response with smug smiles on their faces. Then he looked towards you, a hope glittering in your eyes that he would reassure you and be the sensitive boy you knew behind closed doors and away from his every day reputation. “I...”

“So you have nothing to say for yourself?” you deadpan, a scowl making its way onto your face when you realized he wasn’t going to apologize.

“Why do you care what I do to a stupid little Hufflepuff?” He snickers. Whatever hope you had left went up in flames, he had chosen his reputation.

“Because it’s mean,” you sneered. “Why would I want to be with an arse like that?”

With that, you turned on your heel, walking out of the courtyard and back to your friends where you walked to your next class without turning back to look at the group of shocked boys.

“I think you just got dumped, mate.”

“Merlin’s sake, do you ever shut up Zabini?” Draco fumed, his heart breaking at the question and his mind running a million miles per minute. He began walking towards the entrance of the castle to head into the common room, bumping shoulders aggressively with Blaise as he did.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

You weren’t sure whether or not you and the Slytherin Prince were broken up. Of course, it was the last thing you wanted but you were sick of the endless excuses and empty promises. You knew of the package deal Draco Malfoy came with when you started dating him, but there was a point when it all became too much. You were hoping in a last ditch effort, that if he genuinely really cared for you and respected your wishes, this would be the final push he needed to change.

It’s not like you were asking him to completely stop being himself. You were only asking for him to stop with the unprovoked teasing and pushing around of innocent bystanders. His friends especially, were a big reason why he continued to do it as he loved being the leader of the group and all that came with his positions as; the funniest, the most attractive and charming, the smartest, the wealthiest, the strongest. It was all just a game to him but he never saw the aftermath of his tormenting and how it could really affect someone or their day. You were like a broken record, repeating to him over and over again the same wish you had for him but he never absorbed it.

So now here you were, furiously writing your Potions essay in the library as your mind ran with thoughts of the aggravating platinum blond and nothing having to do with Calming Draught.

“Write any harder and you’ll break your quill,” a certain timid voice said from in front of your table. You didn’t look up, already knowing it was Draco. You didn’t want to give in so easily to his intoxicating nature because the second his scared gray eyes were to meet yours, you’d melt. “Y/N, I’m sorry. For what happened in the courtyard.”

You sighed, setting down your quill and shaking your head, eyes still trained on your parchment. “It’s not just what happened in the courtyard, Draco. It’s that you do this to someone new every single day.”

“I’ve been this way all my life, I can’t just change who I am,” he argues. You finally look at him, the both of you silently seething at each other.

“That’s not an excuse!”

“Shh! Quiet down, the two of you or you will be asked to leave,” Madam Pince exclaims angrily from her desk. You turned back to Draco, hard eyes trained on him as he glared back at you with the same irritated look.

“I would just like to know why my girlfriend feels the need to suck the life out of all my fun,” he says lowly to you. Your face goes scarlet as you try to contain your wrath from being let out on the whole library, and on Draco who wouldn’t even know where to begin to handle it. But as angry as you were, it was quickly replaced with anguish and pooling tears as you thought of the main reason why you had wanted him to be nicer.

“Because your ex-girlfriend knows how it feels like to get bullied and targeted every day for no reason,” you spit sorrowfully. “I know what it’s like to live on the opposite end of what you think is fun and I promise you it’s nothing near that.”

You hurriedly grabbed all your things and rushed out of the library with tears streaming down your face as Draco only stood there feeling like the biggest most insensitive idiot and asshole in the world.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

It had been a week since the incident at the library and the both of you couldn’t be any more miserable. It had gotten to the point where Draco felt ashamed and gross if he was even accidentally rude to someone, let alone on purpose. The blond boy watched you intently from his Slytherin table in the Great Hall, his friends and their conversation sounding like a distant incoherent buzzing as he focused onto your sad and defeated face and figure from afar.

He had tried everything he could think of to get your attention, to get you to hear his apologies, but you wouldn’t give him the time of day; you refused to. You were beyond hurt. Not only because of Draco, but also because of the painful memories that had resurfaced that you spent so long trying to get over. It was all just a mess and Draco regretted everything he had said to you and everything he didn’t do for you.

“Just give it a rest, Draco,” Pansy sighs exasperated at the boy’s longing stares. “She broke up with you, stop pouting about it and move on.”

“Shut up, Pansy,” Draco sneers. “Mind your business why don’t you.”

“I’m just saying, if I was her, I would never do or say anything to ruin our relationship,” she shrugs, peering up at the frowning Slytherin through her eyelashes.

“You’re not her though, are you?” Draco snarks, his eyes squinting at her as he shoots the mean remark her way. All the surrounding boys give an “oooh” at the interaction, cackling as they watch Pansy go red in the face before abruptly standing up and leaving the table in a rush.

Draco did the same and removed himself from the table to dart out of the Great Hall and towards an empty corridor near the courtyard where he liked to hide on an large windowsill. He had enough of his despair and enough of sitting around and doing nothing to win you back, so he got to work on something that would be his last and this time big gesture, to get you to listen.

A few hours had gone by, it was sunny and there was a nice breeze that was perfect for Draco’s plan on winning you back. He especially knew that when the weather was like this, you enjoyed sitting on a bench in the courtyard, the sun caressing your face with warmth as you read a book.

He walked out of the corridor and towards the courtyard, and just like he knew, he spotted you sitting at your favorite bench angled towards the sun and deeply entranced in whatever book was in your lap. He took a deep breath before nearing you, stopping a few feet away to where you didn’t notice his presence just yet. His hand reached into the pocket of his robes, picking out the small and large variety of origami birds notes he had written and charmed to fly over to you and around you in a pretty and gentle circle. A bouquet of red and y/h colored flowers had appeared in his hands behind his back, all he was waiting for was for you to accept him.

You looked up from your book, eyeing all the paper birds that were fluttering around you and across the way was a frantic looking Draco with his hands hiding something behind his back. You let out a deep exhale, reaching out to grab one of the birds and unfolding the note to read his perfect cursive.

I’m sorry.

Then you grabbed another.

Please forgive me.

Then another.

You are everything to me.

And another.

I promise to change my habits.

And then the final one, the biggest bird of the bunch.

I should have listened to you from the beginning and I’m sorry I haven’t been more sympathetic. I’m also sorry that you had to go through that in your past. You are so beautiful and strong and deserve everything good in this world.

You placed your book to the side and stood up, opening your arms in a hug for Draco before he bolted towards you and enveloped you into his arms with a sigh of relief.

“I’m so sorry, darling,” he apologizes again into your hair as he nuzzled into you. He pulled back, handing you the large bouquet of flowers that made you blush as red as the roses that were mixed into the assortment. “I can’t promise you I’ll be perfect, but I swear on everything I love, I’ll try.”

“You don’t have to be perfect, Dray,” you chortle. “All I’m asking is for you not to be such a terrorizing little git.”

“Done,” he grins, throwing himself into your arms again as you giggled and ran your hands through his hair.

The two of you plop onto the bench below you, Draco peppering kisses all over your face in glee and gratefulness that you gave him another chance to prove himself. He didn’t even dare remove himself from you when he saw his friends strolling by, snickering and pointing to the nearly snogging couple.

“Malfoy’s gone soft!” Blaise yells across the yard, the rest of the boys laughing in response as usual like the mindless bozo’s that they were. Draco rolled his eyes, throwing them the middle finger before nuzzling himself back into your embrace.

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messwriting · 4 years

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Written for The Smut Pile Collab: Mafia AU | MASTERLIST HERE.

POISON AND PLEASURE

Osamu Miya (Post-Time Skip) x Mob Boss! Female Reader

“Backed into a corner, Osamu makes a deal with the devil -- you.”

Rating: E for explicit | Don’t read this if under eighteen.

Warnings: oh boy. Dub-con (Osamu does consent, but it is coercion); MANIPULATION AND EXTORTION; slight gun play, lasts for a moment; Rough sex; Hate-fucking; Degradation/Humiliation; Spanking, also just for a moment; Oral sex, fingering; Orgasm Denial; Choking; Violence; Dash of corruption and prey/predator; Deep throat; Facial. Fucking in a kitchen/public place. Also, just in case, toxic relationship and money talk (lol).

Word count: 9,889 (such a nice number)

A/N: Oh, this has been a ride. This is my contribution to The Smut Pile Collab, hosted by the lovelies @present-mel, @pleasantanathema and @linestrider. I’m very excited to participate, since it is my first collab and they are my (home) first server. Big, huge, gigantic thanks to Lauren (my wife) for reading this over and beta-ing for me. <3

Well, Osamu fuckers unite! :insert elmo fire: (i’ve been on discord too much)

Osamu gets up from his seat inside his small office, looking from the small window on his door inside the already closed restaurant lit only by the lights that come in through the windows, the time being well after closing. Shady deals are mostly done late at night, he thinks. Right as he’s leaving the office and closing the door behind him with a key, the movement outside catches his eye and Osamu turns just in time to watch as the black BMW sedan of the year quietly comes to a halt right in front of his store. He frowns, knowing who that means. He'd much rather deal with the soldier responsible for his loan initially than with you.

Two men emerge from the front doors of the car, one immediately heading for the passenger door while the driver checks the street; they exchange a small nod before the man on the side of the sidewalk opens the passenger door and when he does, he positions himself behind it and immediately out of the way. Osamu could be intrigued by the action if he didn't feel so represented by it - he, too, would prefer to always be out of your way.

There’s power in the way you move, ingrained in your body as you descend an expensive white heel onto the concrete beneath you on the sidewalk, the other following suit while you propel yourself out, holding the frame of the car for support. It’s late at night and the street is fairly dark, but your simple presence, clad in an impeccable white suit with a deep neckline showing immaculate skin, is enough to brighten the place. There’s an elegant, expensive-looking and equally unnecessary coat draped over your shoulders and your hair was flawlessly styled.

You draw attention as the color black absorbs light-- from all and everything. Maybe it is because of your soul, he muses.

Once you were standing outside the car, your driver marched to the door of the onigiri restaurant, holding it open for you while you strode inside, heels clicking on the pavement, the sway of your hips something Osamu may think beautiful to watch if it weren’t you.

“Hello, Miya-san. Hope you have better news for me this week.” You state as cheerfully as you can, calmly entering the establishment in a glory of white. You shed your coat once you passed the door, the driver catching it while the second man seemed to survey the outside area a little more before entering.

"Hi." Osamu extends his hand with the brown envelope. But you go around him and walk to the counter, calmly sitting down on one of the high stools while absentmindedly looking around his small restaurant.

“I missed my lunch today, so I hope you don’t mind me grabbing a bite before I leave.” You don’t look at Osamu when he doesn’t move for his place behind the counter immediately.

“We’re closed.” He says and you turn around just momentarily, piercing eyes on his profile. One of your men is still by the door and the look he gives the twin is also very compelling. Osamu feels his teeth gritting against the pressure he makes to shut his tongue. "Sure."

One of the goons comes closer and takes the brown envelope from his hands, without you even looking back as the burly tattooed man sits in one of the booths and starts counting the money.

“So, how’s business? I’ve heard you had a hard time these last two months.” You try to make small talk while checking the menu over the counter, carefully done nails threading along the restaurant menu. You only press a long nail against what you want and slide it to him, the 18K diamonds on your small and discreet Cartier watch and matching trinity ring on your finger catching more of his attention than your watchful eyes. Your jewelry is discrete, tasteful, and still amounting enough to buy the whole building where the Onirigi’s shop is located. Osamu's throat moves around nothing in reflex.

"Isn’t it obvious?" He grumbles while working against the counter, starting once he cleans his hands on the sink. He’d like to say his eyes keep diverting to your neckline because of your shining jewelry.

"So rude, Miya." you chuckle. “And I’ve been nothing but nice to you. Didn’t you pay for your little plumbing problem with my money? Is it only dirty to you once I’m present?”

"I don’t like people like you." Osamu doesn’t beat around the bush. And once he’s done with this payment he’d be completely free of you anyway, he doesn’t feel the need to pretend.

“Like me? You mean kind? All I ever did was help you out in a time of need.”

Osamu’s snort is disrespectful. The big man by the door moves but a simple turn of your hand in the air has him standing back, carefully looking down on Osamu, but unmoving. The other’s still counting the money rather calmly, the booth he’s seated unseeable from the shop window.

“You see, disrespect won’t take you far.” You say offhand, your watchful eyes on Osamu’s every move but with no real worry. You don’t trust him, but you know he’s not stupid.

"I don’t plan on it." He answers you after a beat, finishing wrapping the Salmon onigiri, disposing it carefully on a plate, and depositing it in front of you, accompaniments arranged around. Osamu doesn't use the fact that he doesn't like you as an excuse for a half-ass job; he's not the type, which is refreshing. Is what you like about him.

“Get started on a few others. I trust your recommendations.”

Osamu chooses to work quietly, in silence. You, however, are happily chatting away at his high stool as if this is just another day of bullying patrons. Maybe, for you, it is.

“You work very diligently.” You observe, eyes trailing from his toned arms to his deft fingers diligently working on the rice ball. He’s fast and experienced, rolling the nori around the triangled shaped steamed rice after successfully filling it with whatever he chose. Osamu just grumbles out something, or tsk, even when the way you look at his fingers takes an unexpected appreciative turn.

“Maybe I should have you working overtime more.” You muse when he finishes the new onigiris and carefully places them in front of you. Osamu eyes you nastily, clearly displeased at your comment, which makes your lips split in a bigger smile despite your teeth closing around the rice ball. Even so, you’re pleasantly surprised by their flavor.

“See, this is why I like you, Osamu.” The man frowned at your loose use of his first name, the way it rolls off your tongue so nicely. “You always deliver good work.”

“It’s my job.” Osamu retorts, unamused. “I do it right even if it’s for…” He catches his tongue right in time, his eyes catching movement from the man seated down at one of the tables, almost biting his tongue in the process. “--people like you.”

Osamu watches while the burly man with tattoos moves discreetly despite his size, bends down so his mouth can be on your ear level, and murmurs something to you that he doesn’t quite catch. Your steely eyes are momentarily looking down when they blink and fly back to his face, a deep, blank stare that makes Osamu’s brows furrow. His back becomes straighter, a gripping feeling in his gut that triggers his fight or flight.

He presses the urge down - tells himself he doesn’t have anything to fear.

He’s looking down at you, but Osamu feels small under your steady glare. Which in reflex, after several years of being stupid in pair, makes him want to act up.

"Seems to me you forgot some money, Miya."

"What?" His shocked tone is harsh and his eyes dart between you to the two men behind you, looking as steady as his walls and just as broad. "I counted it twice, everythin’ I owe ya ‘s there." His accent comes out pretty hard when he’s agitated.

"You only have fifty thousand here."

“I owe ya fifty thousand.” Osamu deadpans, almost sneering. “What ’re ya sayin’?"

“No, Miya. Fifty thousand is what you owed me two weeks ago.”

"You gave me an extension." He argues, brows furrowed.

"Exactly. I never said anything about the interest.”

"What?"

"You forgot the interest." You talk to him as if he’s a child, lips turning upwards at his confusion. Osamu has the gut feeling you’re enjoying every second of this. Every little moment of his deep discomfort. “You were informed about them when you accepted the loan, you know how they work. If you don’t pay on the due date, 10 percent interest each extra week you remain in debt.”

"Are you telling me I'm missin’ over 10K in interest rates?

"Yes." You say, smiling while tilting your head sideways, analytical. "Because you are."

“I'm paying you back,” Osamu grits through his clenched teeth, almost as if he’s willing it to be true, “Everything I owed ya is there. ”

"Not quite. You’re paying me back about--” You smile and press your lips in thinking, eyebrows furrowing while you calculate on your head the exact number. “-- 82 percent of what you owe me.”

Osamu’s fists close, veins bulging while his heart picks up with the adrenaline rush of a fit of rage. Aggression flows on his body to the point where his entire frame trembles. His teeth are clenched, tightly forced together by his pressed jaw. His brain cannot reason beyond the need to vent that outrage, and with every second he spends looking at your pretty-faced indifference sitting in front of him at the counter, his outrage slowly merges into fury. Osamu stares back at your emotionless eyes, turns, and walks two strides before burying his fist in the nearest plaster wall, the pain grounding him, soothing his nerves.

Pain is familiar -- what Osamu doesn’t like is to feel so deranged.

"Fuck!" He exclaims loudly but still controlled, turns his broad back to you, breathes deeply a few times, and then settles. You watch in delighted silence as he moves to the freezer, grabs an iced pack of random food, and puts on his busted knuckles, his eyes on the hole he left on the wall; The twin sighs audibly, then walks back while coldly regarding you and your two watchdogs who look over to him carefully, almost startled.

You, however, didn’t even flinch.

"So how much do I still have to give you?"

“I think the better question is: Can you pay?”

“I’ll figure it out.” Osamu grumbles out, his clenched jaw working over grinding teeth.

“That’s not how this works, Miya.” You tell him, your spine regally straight on the high seat as if it is your throne. Your lips move around the next word with malice. “When.”

“I--” Osamu stops to think for a moment, coldly calculating his financial situation. He has no way to withdraw money from the main branch to try and cover the losses of this branch, that would be simply stupid. There is no way for him to borrow money from Atsumu, who doesn’t know the concept of savings; Kita can not help him with such a great amount and he can’t recur to his poor parents. He also doesn’t want to resort to a bank at all, which doesn’t leave him many options. A new extension raises interests and he doesn't think he can do it beyond the amount he would need to add. Osamu's chest slowly fills with dread - he knows what’ll come if he doesn’t pay and he refuses to let his business become a Mafia parlor.

You watch Osamu slowly and quite meticulously calculate his options while engrossed in reasoning his dreadful situation; it’s thrilling, you almost can’t hide the contentment blossoming in your chest at his desperate situation.

His expression shifts and turns sour, before slowly building back his blank façade but it’s too late, you already know his conditions and capacities - it’s your job to know. And you pride yourself in never making bets, just assuming calculated risks, so Osamu is right where you wanted him to be.

You do suspect the black-haired male is the same, that disinterested stare in his handsome face nothing short of sharp, his aloof behavior making every second of rilling Osamu up to this manifestation of discomfort all the more delightful. His only problem is that the man plays by rules you don’t. And what you want, you take.

“I’ll need an extension for the rest.” He finally says, so absolutely angered it’s almost a curse. Even the hostility in his tone makes a shiver run down your spine, all the hairs on your arms standing on edge while your insides slowly melt, fed by the images in your brain.

“Really?” You playfully answer, faked surprise not made to convince anyone. Osamu seethes in place, labored breathing making his chest move up and down. “See, now I can’t help you out. I told you disrespect would only take you so far.”

You get up from your seat, a show of touching your expensive black plump Louboutin on the ground. “I can’t let you out like this, not when you did such a show of being… rude.”

“What do you want.” Osamu almost spits at you once you’re rounding his counter, entering his space, closing on him. But he holds himself in place by pressing his nails hardly against the inside of his palms.

“First, some respect.” You sultrily say at him, much as a viper luring its prey. It rolls off your scarlet lips while you look up at him from your long lashes and perfect face. It makes Osamu want to wreck it.

“I don’t respect you.” He says in undertone since you’re close, sounding much like a hiss.

“Doesn’t seem like a smart thing to say to someone to whom you owe so much.” You purse your lips, fake pout. “And you seem like a smart man, Miya. Or am I wrong?”

Osamu blinks, brows furrowing while he looks down at you, his mind working.

“Where are you going with this?” He eyes you warily, his eyebrows furrowing, his mind trying to gauge the target of your wicked intentions. “You want something.”

You smile, pretty red lips stretching to show a beautiful line of white teeth and he’s surprised that the poison isn’t dripping.

“See, I knew you were smart.”

“I’m not giving you my business.” Osamu hisses, like a cornered animal, but his instance shows he’s more prone to fight than flee.

“Don’t want it.” You’re quick to tell him, innocence so out of place that it makes even clearer that you’re being honest. “I may need… services, though.”

Osamu’s spine shoots straight once again, his eyes sharp boring into your face with cold disdain.

“I’m not laundering your money.”

“Money launder, Miya? That’s a federal felony.” You lean back, supporting yourself on your forearms against the balcony, vigilant eyes zooming on him. “Are you saying I’m a criminal?”

Osamu stays silent for the first time. There’s a predatory glint in your eyes that he understands as a warning, but that doesn’t stop him from upturning his brow and tilting his head in a small challenge. Osamu is appalled at what your upturning lips do to his guts, swallowing the saliva that pools in his mouth. He must be wrong in the fucking head to feel anything else than disgust in your sight, but even so, there’s no denying the way there’s a devilish pull around you, like the temptation of a capital sin.

“What I mean is… I have a specific service for you, personally. So you could pay me in...” Your tongue snaps against the roof of your mouth with a small noise, lips turning up in vile intention, “Different goods, per se.”

Osamu refuses to accept his train of thought, eyes pressing into slits while he watches you. His tone enunciates every word of his question.

“What do you mean?”

Your answering smile is sordid.

“You know what I mean Miya, we’ve just established you’re not stupid.”

“I’m starting ta’ think you are, though.”

Your laugh is loud, cheerful even. It makes him look at you as if you’re insane.

“Maybe.” You chuckle, retreating your arms back and straightening your posture on the tool, your neck tilting to the side. “But when I want something, I want it. So why deny myself that? I find the whole point of self-control to be so… pedestrian.” There’s this contempt in your tone at the word, mixing into trivial once your shoulders shrug your consideration for a whole chunk of what living in a society means. “Why hold myself to it if I’m above?” Osamu chooses to ignore that question.

“And what if I say no?”

“You’re free to do what you want, I don’t own you.” Yet, you think, smiling. “Then again you still owe me 10k in interests and with your measly weekly 5k profit and the increased interest percentage with the second extension, we know what’ll happen to you… And I’d hate for that to happen to you.”

The silence is heavy and acidic, burning on him. And you let the seconds pass, relishing in the way he seems to grow aggravated, jaw overworking around nothing to bite, hands in fists by his side.

Oh, you’re close to defiling the pristine white of your designer clothes, the feeling brewing inside you threatening to spill between your thighs. Osamu looks absolutely delicious while being so emotional.

You can see the gears turning inside his pretty dark-haired head, his eyes looking around and back at you, threading down your face, to your neck to the plunging neckline of your suit - you elongate your body while he watches, pleased to have his eyes on you, especially when they're burning with unattended violence and aggression.

Osamu’s always so detached from the events happening around him, so unshakable in that aura of apathetic tranquility that it has caused you to develop an almost macabre interest in making him desperate. And now you are continually enjoying the result, the awakening of the flames that you always knew existed inside the small business owner.

A few minutes pass while you’re just content to watch, the knot in your stomach growing tighter as you appreciate the size of his shoulders, the strength hidden in the strong biceps, the broad, defined torso that you know exists under that simple black outfit simply by gut feeling alone. You are tempted to ask him to turn around so that you can also enjoy his backside.

“Ok.” He says in a breath that seems more like it was ripped out of his chest. Like a dead man last world. You like this analysis. But of course, he can’t have it so easy.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear. Did you say anything?”

Osamu purses his lips in discomfort, almost bites his tongue in the process of not telling you to go to hell.

“I said,” he entones again, though his disdain is showing. “Ok”

“Ok, what?” You press. Oh, the way how his veins bulge on his forearms when his nails press on his palms have your hairs standing on end. You blink at him with a smile, all too pleased with yourself.

“Ok, I’ll do it.” Osamu squeezes out, brows furrowed in discovering your intentions. You’re leering with wicked prowess.

“I don’t think that's how you say it, Miya.” Your brows go up in the tiniest indication of irritation. Your voice is calculated, though unable to hide the elation.

“Ok… Miss. I’ll do anything you want.” The words come out of his mouth sounding nothing like submission and much like he just cursed your whole generation, teeth grinding. Still, it makes you smile. You don’t want to break his spirit -- that’s why you chose him.

“That’s what I like to hear.” You say, pushing yourself out from the counter where you supported yourself. Coat long forgotten on top of it, you cross your arms in front of your breasts, knowing exactly how you look and very pleased at the way his eyes ever so slightly thread down your plunging neckline. “But not so fast. I didn’t tell you I’d accept it-”

“Ya just--” Osamu almost explodes, the arms he holded closed in front of him being thrown in the air as if he’d be ready to grab you. You just turn a hand up and reels at how he actually shuts up right after.

“I just told you, you could pay me in services.” You continue, one step closer to him in your expensive shoes, plump red lips dripping wicked intent.

“But,” You start, closer to him enough that your breath is touching his heated skin and you can smell the sweat his aggression produced, your mouth salivating at the thought of tasting it on his skin.

Your finger rests on his chest and you thread it up while speaking, looking him in the eyes, so pleased at finding so much life in his usual dead stare, “I don’t know if you’re good enough for the job yet.”

Osamu stares back at you, hands in fists forcibly stuck next to his body, feeling the way your hot breath trails on his jaw and hating himself for what it brews in his insides.

You stretch up in your heels, mouth dangerously close to his, which rests ajar to let his breathing out, enough that he can taste your mint breath on his tongue.

“I think I may need a little…” Your eyes thread down to his mouth and then back to his eyes while you speak your next words, “--taste, you know?”

Osamu flexes his fingers, swallows dry around his closed throat, stares at your face -- so close the downright devilish smile on your red lips seems to narrow his field-view -- and he blinks.

The Miya thinks how he wants to wipe that smile off your sinful lips. How he wants to have you trembling, unattended, and disheveled. He thinks about you begging with his name on your tongue, for a release that he’ll keep denying at his disposition. Osamu thinks about leaving you sore and marked, thinks about wrapping his hands around your neck to watch as you struggle, turning purple, life evading you while he fucks you; consider this may be the only way he’d ever had the opportunity to get even close to a payback.

Osamu wants you to experience mind-numbing pleasure you’d never before, uniquelly brought by him… and suffer through the rest of your fucking disgraceful life without being able to taste it again once he’s done paying his debt. Because Osamu swears on his fucking name and whole life, he’ll never give it to you again.

He can see your future already and in it you’re fucked - both by him and for him, while he’s the one who gets away. The twin wonders if you ever lost anything like this in your life, can feel himself growing hard at being the one to make you cry.

“Sure.” Osamu smiles, lopsided, the devil himself being safer than him. “I’ll give ya the taste ya deserve.”

Your eyes press slightly closer in mistrust, the wicked intention pouring from his body so close to yours impossible to miss. Either way, it's your win; that’s exactly what you’ve been bargaining for, despite your game being rigged from the start.

You bring your face close to his as if you were going to kiss him and you are delighted when his eyes go down, although not completely closed, his pupils focusing on your lips.

You smile and retreat, turning to your men still positioned exactly where you left them, behind the bench where you were sitting previously. They remain so observant and sharp as ever, despite looking more like gargoyles than men.

“I’ll need a moment.” You tell them in a serious tone, calm. They both look at you for a second and nod, their stances changing very little despite it. You turn back to him but walk inside his establishment as if you own the place, pushing through the doors that lead to the back and inside his small, equipped kitchen. Osamu follows in silence, briefly wondering if he’d be able to snatch a knife and bury it in your chest.

There’s not much outside cooking paraphernalia, with two big counters and taller than normal table in the center. You stop right in front of it, your hand threading over it for a moment.

“That’ll do.” You say while you turn around to look at him. You look so strikingly bright in the middle of his rather normal kitchen, clad in both lavish clothes and unblemished skin; he wants so much to be able to say your sight doesn’t thrill him -- but he can’t lie to himself.

But then you pointedly eye him and then the ground in front of you, “Kneel.”

Osamu considers his previous thought about burying a knife deep in your chest but walks, stiff, to where you indicated. He kneels with even less disposition than when he walked towards you, the descent slow until the ground’s hard tile is registered against his knee. He makes a point of looking into your eyes as he lowers, hatred overflowing in waves that seem to give you a sick satisfaction, your eyes becoming slightly out of focus.

The Miya’s about to ask what you’d want him to do next, like pledge himself or some shit, when your hands move to the hidden zipper on the side of your impeccable white pants.

It drops to the floor in one go, displaying the graceful planes of your hips, appeasing spanse of flesh, a small triangle of silk hiding your most private parts. Saliva pools in Osamu’s mouth at the sight, his teeth pressing against one another to avoid betrayal. He’s still unsure of what’s his next step until your heel digs on his shoulder painfully, using him as leverage to prop yourself up on the high table.

His eyes snap to yours while he bite his tongue to not curse you out loud. There’s a gun on top of his head that is a big warning for Osamu to behave -- not that he’d have the chance to escape with the watchdogs outside his only exit. If he had, you could be dead already.

Your suit threads up when you move up and slide on the table, the white silk panties peeking in between your open thighs. You move your beretta calmly off his face and thread it slightly, almost fondly, over your naked thigh.

You make a small show of removing your finger from the trigger and depositing it far on the table, enough to be out of his reach and almost yours too. You look back at him once you’re empty handed and just so open right there on the table for him.

“Behave, Osamu. You know you wouldn’t make it very far.”

Osamu grits his teeth but nods, your heel still supported on his shoulder but not digging on his skin anymore. You lay slightly back against his tabletop, forearms resting on the surface carefully. Dressed in a white, stylish suit like the last trend, the skin in between so bright it feels like a taunt, the curves of your breasts so ripe he wants to taste, the closed lapels looking like his own pathway to sin. He can feel his blood boiling, aggression throbbing, and he wants to paint you in red.

“Well then,” You start, happily above him, spread like a meal, “Show me if you’re good enough to pay your debt. Consider this your warrant.”

“Don’t worry.” Osamu drawls out with dripping distaste, his hand slowly, almost bored, threading up from your ankle to your knees. “I’ll fuck ya like you want it. Within an inch of your life.”

His hands lock on the back of your knees and he parts them forcefully, while you leave a yelp followed by laughter, your head thrown back with glee.

You smell of flowers and spice, so expensive he was surprised that you weren’t dripping fucking gold. His palms slide through the back of your thigh and the skin under his fingertips is soft and firm, all shapes of heaven despite being in sole service of the devil.

Osamu starts slowly, the table leaving you open just at the height of his neck while he’s kneeled on the ground, at the perfect height. His thumb presses on your skin while he holds one of your legs up, brings his lips to your knee. There’s a welcoming stain on your panties, and he scoffs at you despite the way his cock responds on his trousers.

“I haven’t even started and you’re already wet?” The way you smile at him is both infuriating and bewitching.

“What? Didn’t you enjoy our little foreplay earlier?” You tease him, plump lips locked under a row of teeth with mirth. His skin feels prickling and Osamu decides he needs more room, roughly pushing on your thighs until he can fit between them with room to spare.

It’s not fair, how good you feel, the delicious smell of your skin, the way your taunt alights him with fire in his veins.

Osamu knows it’s bait -- and he’s willingly falling for it.

When his lips start to thread on the inner part of your knee and up, the twin does it with the intention to mark; he sucks instead of kissing, licks instead of caressing, and bites once he finds the plush meat of your inner thighs.

It stings and you let the smallest of sounds, but Osamu feels it in his gut, brings his hot tongue to soothe over it, bask in the way you tremble under his fingertips just enough for him to sink his teeth and revel in the pain on your groan.

His nose treads along the furthest expanse of the joining of your thighs, touches the silk of your expensive panties, senses the way you tense and watches while your pussy trembles, even while still covered by fabric.

He considers holding back his tongue, but Osamu has never been the type to be held back by the threat of punishment. And you’ve shown to clearly enjoy his fiery side.

“Such an eager pussy right here, isn't it?” He threads his nose against the wet patch in the silk, carefully breathes against the covered lips. Osamu lets one of his shoulders bear one leg and brings his thumb to pass over the growing wet patch. “Sticky.” He presses it from the wetness to the place where your clit should be, watches as you respond to his touch with aborted movement. “Such a slut.” It’s supposed to be degrading, but there’s a hint of appreciation in his words that isn’t lost on you. “Is this all it takes for my debt? It’ll be finished in a second then.”

Your mouth opens to retort but closes in time to withhold a moan before it falls through your lips. His thumb’s pressing against your clit in tight circles while the index of his other hand threads over your covered cunt. Turns out Osamu has moves to back up the big talk.

He’s methodical, clearly good and deft with his fingers, controlled pressure applied in a way that has you writhing on the table despite your intention to make this hard on him. Your desire to make him work for it, apparently, is no match for his.

Osamu presses the tips of his fingers on your clothed entrance, enough force that it barely breaks inside you but the teasing has you churning on the table for him, legs trying to part beyond limits, body arching where it’s been relegated. Your chest feels hot and heavy despite the little clothing. You’re hoping for the moment where he’ll tease the hard nipples pressing against the flimsy lace of your bralet and the inside of your suit with the same intensity he’s depositing on your cunt.

Osamu, on the other hand, has no rush. You did this, gave this opportunity for him to wreck you, and he plans on enjoying it to the bitter end. He’s fairly surprised at how responsive you are, how quickly you melt for him, how vocal you can be despite doing little more than grunts and sighs. A thought flashes through his mind when he feels a renewed wave of wetness blossom against the fabric where his fingers are pressing, his lips turning in a self-satisfied smirk.

“Have you been so desperate for a good cock you’ve resorted to blackmail?” Your eyes snap open at his voice, a warm wave of something that you refuse to believe in being embarrassment depositing in your cheekbones. Osamu’s fingers prod harder against your entrance, fingers spreading against the wet fabric to your outer lips while his thumb keeps drawing endless circles around your clit. “Tsk, what a dirty move from an even dirtier slut.”

He slaps your clit once, then twice, his bulking frame preventing you from closing your legs against the sudden pain. Your body trembles on unsteady forearms. You choke on a breath and then release a moan, the sound outrageous to Osamu even as his cock throbs from it.

“Maybe I’ll give ya what you want.” The Miya teases, his voice sounding even despite the turmoil inside him. You look up at him with such eyes he could fool himself into thinking he wanted this.

His fingers teether on the edge of your underwear, rough fingertips just daring to cross into the emanating heat. Your hips twitch, the emptiness inside you accentuated by your muscles clenching around nothing, desire pouring out against the prodding fingertips. Osamu snorts, throws you a hard stare that is equal parts fire and contempt.

“You’re so wet. Are you enjoying this that much?” It drips acidic from his tongue against your neck, after he bends himself over you. From so close, Osamu’s warm breath is the same as a caress, his tongue teasing you with the way it threads over his lips but doesn't extend the courtesy to your skin. “You’re rather easy to rile up, hah? Or is it that you enjoyed playin’ with me before?” His teeth flash white above your head and you swallow around the desire of having them plunging on your skin. “How was it ya said? Foreplay, hah?”

You feel weirdly wound up inside your own skin, as if there’s not enough space and still a growing void inside you waiting for him to fill. It’s insane, it’s delicious, and a loud moan breaches your throat when Osamu plunges two fingers inside you without warning.

Your body arches in such a curve your breasts press against his chest, the relieving brush too shallow to register in your brain when you’re hyper fixated on the sensation brewing inside you.

It doesn’t even sting, instead you feel like your hunger escalates, fed by such little push that your want becomes need and for the first time in forever you actually consider asking for something.

Your mouth opens, and Osamu snickers. “What?” He presses his thumb over your clit fast, relinquishes in the way you groan, feels the way your insides beg him to keep going.

Still not enough though. He wants it ruined for you.

“Maybe I’ll just make you cum on my fingers right here.” He spreads, scissor and twists them inside you, enjoying the feeling of your tight walls clenching around him at his every move. Osamu’s skin feels on fire, body overheating, and the way your lips turn up to reveal a line of white teeth in glee has his gut twisting.

“You have a pretty loose tongue for such a quiet guy.” You look at him with semi-closed eyes, the victorious smile of the cat who got the mouse. “Maybe you like me more than you thoug--ahhhhh!”

Osamu shoves and prods around your insides for that special place even demons like you have and his assault is nothing short of merciless. Your eyes snap open at the force of his ramming, eyebrows furrowing at the way your pleasure seems to have forgone climb to skyrocket instead. Osamu watches in begrudging enchantment while your lips fall open to suck air into your breathless lungs and your eyes grow unfocussed, shoulders falling against the table so your hands can come to hold his arms but for what he doubts even you know.

He’s not stopping. Until he does.

You let out a noise like a wounded animal, tethering on the edge of mind numbing pleasure he won’t give you and when your body trembles from exertion of a denied orgasm instead of bliss, Osamu’s chest swells in pride.

“Whydidyoustop?” You lament in one breath, eyes are blinking back into focus, sweat and - oh he hopes those are tears - droplets dripping from the corner of your eyes while you turn to press your face on the cold metal surface of the table. “I was so close!” This time you rage, nails pressing against his skin enough to hurt.

“Wadidya mean?” Osamu tilts his head sideways, patronizing. “You didn’t ask for it. I’m just doing what you told me: being respectful.”

You laugh, still breathless, and turn to him in disbelief. “Fucker.”

“Not yet,” He corrects you, nuzzling his hips on your thighs. “Maybe if you ask nicely enough.”

Osamu retreats while you regulate your breath, letting your useless legs fall limp while both of his hands come to help your panties down, marveling at the way they’re peeled off your wet pussy lips. His cock aches and demands, but he’s used to reining in his dick. And he’s just started, anyway.

The Miya pushes you forward on the table, opening your legs wide like a treat. Your pussy is glistening, rhythmically calling for something to fill it while you leak. He plunges a finger back inside to watch you tremble, stimulation enough to make your eyes fall closed, long black lashes against beautiful sweaty skin.

“Look at this.” Osamu plunges a second finger inside, opening them wide enough to sting. “What a desperate whore.”

Your mind is swirling in urge, but you refuse to spill the words on your tongue. It would give you what you want, but at what cost? Osamu looks positively ferocious above you, dark eyes focused on your every move; it sends shivers through your spine, your body trembling and blossoming for him once again. You’re in your personal heaven, in company of the devil himself.

Osamu kneels again in front of your open legs, hook one on his shoulder while he holds the other thigh forcefully up with a grip so hard your muscle aches under his fingers. But you don’t care, in fact you sigh “more” for him right as his breath teases your folds.

“No.” He tells you, two fingers pumping at leisure. His tongue slurps at your inner thigh, teeth closing in a bite with nothing to sooth.

“Fuck.” You breathe out in a groan and his smirk is pronounced against your skin.

Osamu, as you’re learning, is a tease.

His moves are soft, lacking in everything but aim; his tongue moves along the sensitive parts of your body you’ve never really cared for, like the plush flesh of your thighs, underside of your ass, the juncture of your groin. He has yet to taste you but you feel wounded, body constricted under weak ministrations, feather-like teases. It sinks with a piercing revelation that you could cum like this -- in an unfulfilled manner with not-good-enough touches that somehow have made your body feel raw like an exposed nerve in which the minimum touch would be enough to warrant waves of pleasure.

When his tongue comes to thread along your slit slowly, nose caressing along his way, your body clenches and threatens to spasm around unmoving fingers. You’re so close, so close, your body is ready to burst, fraying at the seams of a control you’re not using, your hands flying to try and find your clit at the same time Osamu’s eyes flash and he holds it, presses it forcefully against your belly while his lips slurp at your folds, circle your clit, but it’s so soft, it’s fucking unfair.

“Goddammit, Osamu!” You scream, enraged at the way your second orgasm flies away from you as his fingers leave your quivering hole, his mouth doing nothing more than lap at your overflowing juices with no real worry, no urgency.

“Oh, look at that.” The Miya smirks, drawing back up to look at your disheveled state; flustered, sweating, dripping and unattended. “You wanted a taste.” His hand comes back to your cunt, fingers thread along puffy lips. “I’m giving it to you.”

“You bastard.” His fingers leave your heat just to plunge inside again, a loud gushing sound following it. “Shit.” You sigh while falling back, and Osamu feels his cock throb once more at how breathless you sound.

Your mind works around the feeling of being spread so far you feel as if you’re paper thin. Your mind goes rushing in its last attempt at working. Osamu looks self-satisfied, almost content, so you know where to hit. You want it, so you find a way to have it.

“Oh, poor Miya--” You coo at him with a hoarse voice in glazed eyes, but the condescending tone is clear as day. “Are you trying to hurt me?” You plant a hand on his black hair, pulling at it enough to hurt. “‘Cause I like pain.”

Fire explodes in his eyes and you tighten around his fingers in response, but other than his frown, Osamu remains calm.

He slams three fingers inside before you can mouth any new words, smirks down at you with mischief when you tremble and bite your lips to hold the noises in, eyes falling back closed to hide the way they turn inside your skull. His other hand is holding your thigh forcefully open once again and his palm presses with hurtful intention, fingertips buried in your flesh so hard his digitals may mark you for days.

“Let you cum on my fingers and nothing else, is that going to be enough for you?” Osamu snarls against your ear, hot breath tickling your jaw. His hips hold you open to his assault at your pussy and his hand abandons your thigh to glide over your body and close around your throat.

Osamu squeezes hard.

“Then again I could ruin your orgasm for the third time.” He bends over you, his lips right in front of your sight; eyes looking down at you with such fire you almost wonder if they’re the cause for the burn in your lungs. “Leave you writhing on the table, empty, until you learn to have a little respect.”

This.

Your lips spread in a smile almost maniacal, goosebumps rising on your skin as if you’re electrified. This is what you’ve wanted all along -- passion, fearless assault of words, electrifying pleasure; and also, the detachment, the murderous intent, all merging together in one perfect Osamu Miya. Shit, you think to yourself, at this hate you may actually come from his teasing alone.

“You talk too much for someone who didn't make me cum yet.” You pour gasoline into his fire.

Osamu pulls you up by the lapels of your suit, button flying open at the hastiness, your breasts protected by such a flimsy piece of lace you’re surprised it doesn’t turn to ash at his stare. Your hard nipples mark the white bralet, the air feeling cold at how hot they are.

A hand covered in your juices closes on your cheeks, forcefully opening your lips at the threat of pain, his fingers with lingering heat from your insides.

“Such a big mouth, should I shut you up?” Osamu asks you, eyes boring on yours. The plea is on the point of your tongue as if he’d shoved his hand inside you to yank it himself, and it tips out when his dark eyes steal one single snippet of your smeared red lips open by his hands.

“Fuck me.”

He nods negatively, presses hard enough that your teeth could cut your inner cheeks. He relents and your tongue grazes your lips, moistening them for his eyes.

Osamu smiles, a tilt of his lips up but so earnestly you’re almost hopeful, then: “No.”

Even if as he says it, it’s a lie. He knows he’ll fuck you, but right now he’s enjoying the build-up, toying with you as if you’re his plaything and not the opposite. You growl and curse, head falling back when he palms at your covered breasts, push the lace up, hears the way it strains and threatens to rip.

It’s oddly relatable -- Osamu also feels taut, stretched around a fleeting control that he feels will slip with one dip inside you. His past sexual experiences involved partners who he cherished and few one-night stands which, for the small time his dick was inside them, he was mindful and cared for their pleasure.

Right now, while he pinches and palm at your body, he has not a single worry about your pleasure and all the concern about his. This is for him. He bends his head over your bosom, sucks a nipple inside the hot cave of his mouth and bites. As his cock twitches and aches inside his trousers, he relishes in the pained noises you leave, even when they’re marked by breathless arousal.

“You sure are fucked up. Look how much you’re enjoying this.” His fingers force the howl of your cheeks, feeling your teeth nicking the insides of your mouth even through layers of flesh. There’s an infuriating elation in your expression, and Osamu retaliates by sucking harshly on your skin, teeth finding soft places to close on.

You moan loudly and his hand slides back onto your throat in the motion. Your hand shots up from the table to find his hard dick and your laugh makes his blood boil. “Clearly I’m not the only one.”

His heartbeat spikes at the words, even if Osamu knows it. The twin pulls the suit jacket half-down your arms and slams your body on the slight cold surface of the metal table, noise sounding thunderous but still no one comes after you.

Your skin erupts in goosebumps at the aggression, blood flying so fast through your heart you feel lightheaded. You’re about to spit some more fire into Osamu when two of his fingers gag you, other hand descending on your ass with such force and so unexpectedly your legs give out, dangling from the table as if you’re a ragdoll.

Something remarkably close to a whine turning sob slides through your throat and dies at Osamu’s fingers, just as something big and hot surges over your ass cheeks. Something coils on your chest, the emotion makes your eyes water and for a moment you blink it away, thanking the new position doesn’t let Osamu catch that.

Too soon. Osamu pulls your head back as his hand peels the globes of your ass apart and before you can breathe, the little air inside you is being knocked out with one thrust of Osamu’s hip.

He forces his dick inside you, tearing you open as your walls make way for his aggression, wetness dripping while Osamu fills you to the hilt, because yes, that's what you want. You want his hate, his passion, you want Osamu to tear you apart while you enjoy every second of it.

“‘Samu!” His name is on your lips as your eyes roll back, whole body tensing until you’re falling, just like that.

Then he retreats. “Fuck! Fuck no!” This time it’s a wail, a sob as your third orgasm turns to ashes, your insides trembling with nothing to hold, empty and meager pleasure.

“Wha--Cummin’ already? Nope.” The twin laughs above you, hands tilting your head painfully back. “So embarrassing.” Osamu mocks you and you swear you can feel a renewed wave of cream slide down your insides to greet the head of his cock, nudging along your swollen lips. Your tongue feels so heavy on your mouth, parched and breathless all at once, no way out but silence.

“You are disgusting, you know that? Such a greedy fucking pussy doesn’t deserve to be this tight.”

Your laugh turns into a deep moan when Osamu hits deep inside you. “God yes.” You twist one hand out of the suit’s sleeve just to pull him by the hem of his blouse, your nails digging against the skin of his neck, blooming red yelts. “Talk shit to me Osamu. I know you have better lines.”

“Fuck you.” The twin spits, his hips pistoning harder against yours until he just stops the motion, leaves you open and gapping for him to fill you again. “Of course a pig like ya has the hots for humiliation. Look at that, the slut’s pussy squeezing around my dick because she thinks I'm doing this for her pleasure.” His hand comes down on the other side of your ass, where he hasn't hit yet. It stings, but the way his palm massages and grabs at it before almost soothes the burn. “Disgusting sluts don’t get to say anything, not even begging will get you what you want. I decide what you get."

You look back from your shoulder to see his cock is standing proud and angry, swollen head shining red and dripping translucent white, as if he hadn't been wet from your juices before. Osamu’s big, especially thick and he presses inside you again without giving you time to adjust, unforgiving pace right from the start.

You curse at the way one of your hands keeps locked behind you by your suit, your nails digging on your own skin without anything else to find purchase on; the other tries to grab onto Osamu to no avail, falling on the table to help support yourself at the strength of his pounding. Your mouth is open, divided between sucking breaths and puffs of air. Osamu’s hand has since found purchase in your neck, the way he forces it back painful, the pressure on your throat growing and ceasing as he wishes.

Still, you can’t think. Your mind is lost in a sea of searing pleasure, your nipples pressed against the metal surface as Osamu finally fucks you as you’ve been dreaming. No, maybe even better. The past men you’ve fucked had all been afraid of hurting you, careful with retaliation. As Osamu fists your hair and forcefully presses you against the table; you think you may be having a religious experience. Your eyes water from the force of his manhandling, tears spilling while you left unbelievable noises fall from your lips. You want to scream and laugh, a hot sensation spreading from your fingertips to your core.

The wave of the orgasm is forming quickly, your toes curling against the insides of your Louboutins enough to hurt, the incessant pounding of Osamu’s hips against your ass sounding downright pornographic. As the peak approaches, doubt gnaws at your chest for the first time in forever.

The simple thought of Osamu robbing you of your orgasm this time is enough to make your whole body tremble and recoil, your mind too slow to catch on to his intentions. You consider biting your tongue to hold the plea in, but as you bolt into mind-blowing pleasure you’ve never even imagined before, the alternative feels like dying.

You’re tethering the edge and you feel Osamu pressing harder against you, and you break. “Please!” You cry out, “Pleasepleaseplease, don’t stop.” His movements slow down and halt, and the hand on your ass slides around you, a single finger taps repeatedly on your swollen clit.

“Say it.” He all but howls at your ear, bites on it for good measure.

“Please, ‘samu, let me fucking cum!” You beg but you’re already falling over, whole body shuddering just from the way he nudges his hips against your ass and taps on your sensitive bundle of nerves. Panic surges in between your pleasure that he’ll ruin this one when he retreats from your quivering insides, but Osamu rams back inside you with such power that your head rattles, hips hurting from the impetus of his fucking.

Sound rings in your ear while you drown in the thunderous waves of your pleasure for what feels like forever. It flows and flows and flows to a point you can’t tell if you’re seeing black or just closed your eyes.

Osamu watches, enthralled, how you go completely boneless under him. Your insides have stopped squeezing him tight but his hard, aching cock still throbs inside your heat. It’s honestly unbelievable how tight you feel around him, how fantastic he feels buried balls deep inside your walls. He had to stop trying to fuck you through your orgasm in worry he’d may cum. Poison and pleasure curl in his chest at the thought. Osamu feels like spanking you, choking you, to punish you for this undeserving heaven you have between your thighs.

But he’s not done yet.

Osamu retreats, the slide of his cock leaving your delicious walls -- cold air from outside so less welcoming -- and you sag on the table. He pulls you up on unsteady legs and smirks, proud. Your bare feet touch the ground and Osamu spins you around, swallowing on a tight throat after one look at your disheveled blissful state, but then he retreats and let’s you collapse to the ground.

The image of your legs sliding open on the cold tiled floor, unsteady hands finding purchase to hold your torso up while your head looks up at him in outrage is one he sears in his mind, a wicked satisfaction sliding over his spine at the sight alone. The wreck of you at his feet, by his hands, nothing short of perfect.

His cock throbs and pulses in front of your eyes, dragging your attention and Osamu steps closer, poses one hand on the top of your head, ruins the rest of your styled hair by dragging fingertips in it.

You’re still lightheaded, shockwaves making you twitch on the cold floor and Osamu is elated at how wrecked you look, makeup smeared, hair disheveled, body holded up by unsteady arms. Your lips are open, between breathless pulls of air and heavy exhales, but Osamu doesn't care, hands forcefully tugging your hair back and angling your mouth at his swelled cockhead. He counts as a win that you don’t bite him, your tongue threading flat on the underside of his length as he buries himself on your throat.

There’s resistance, so the Miya retreats, forcing it back a few other times until it finally slides a few inches more inside. While he maintains the force over your hair, his other hand engulfs your chin, thumb breaching your lips to hold your mouth open despite the fact you don’t make any move to close it.

It feels his chest with acidic bitterness that you welcome his aggression, glazed, tearful eyes looking up at him as if the fact he’s using you as little more than a cocksleeve is the brightest part of your day. Still, Osamu’s skin feels close to tearing under the sheer amount of pleasure flooding his insides. His hairs are standing on end, heart beating so fast his lungs burn, every muscle on his body tensed at his mindless pursuit of his high. He buries his cock deep inside the tight space of your throat, your gurgles and groaning enhancing his sensation. It looks painful to you to hold him inside, tears ending your makeup, face turning red at the lack of air. He closes both hands behind your head, making you nuzzle his pelvis even as your nails close on his thighs threatening to break skin.

He retreats to let you breathe just as your eyes go unfocused, feels something squeezing inside as you cough and wheezes and his throat squeezes a large gulp of air when you look up at him, tongue hanging out with a wide-open mouth just offered for him.

Osamu feels like hurting you at how good you are, infuriatingly obedient and willing to be at the end of his aggression. So he buries himself back inside at one go, both hands holding your head for him. There’s too much chaos inside of him, so he decides to pour some out through words.

“You like being used like this, huh? Like little more than a fucking cocksleeve for me.”

“What is it? Does being in power make you this needy? Does being wrecked make you feel this good?” Your groan makes your throat tighter around him, your eyes rolling back from his fucking and degradation.

It’s unfair, infuriatingly so, that this might be the most unbelievable great sex he ever had.

Osamu can’t hold back much longer, everything feeling just too good, his skin burning at the stretch of the tourbillion of emotions inside his chest, the captivating sight of tears dropping from your jaw and coating your long lashes as your face darkens by the lack of air, swollen lips stretched beyond capacity around his cock while you willingly let him go harder, faster, into your tight throat. There’s a warm sensation flowing from his limbs to his spine, melting his bones and weighing on his balls until it spreads over Osamu’s whole being.

He pulls back from your throat in time but presses his hands on your jaw and hair to keep you up and open as he coats your wrecked face with hot spurts of cum -- the final touch to the perfection of your wrecked image at his feet.

It lands haphazardly over your lips and even your eyelashes, tear-stained mess of a face marked by his essence. Osamu tells himself he could never feel anything towards you, but for a second there’s a hint of territorial pride at how you look -- and how it is all his doing. The twin is still swimming in searing pleasure as you lick over your lips, hands almost fondly landing over his as if you're assuring him that he can let go.

He does, trying to step back and slowly descending onto the ground when his knees give out. His eyes are glued to how his cum is dripping from your chin onto your chest, how you bring your fingers to sweep over it and end it by cleaning the digits with your tongue. If Osamu’s cock wasn’t so spent, he’s sure it’d swell right back up at the sight alone.

“Can’t say what’s better,” your hoarse voice is barely above a murmur, “the taste or the feeling.”

As you’re standing on unsteady legs and already fixing yourself while he sits on the floor questioning his life choices, Osamu feels as if he’d made a deal with the devil, and you’ll be coming back to collect his soul.

“Seems like the start of a nice partnership, doesn’t it?”

#osamu miya smut #osamu miya #osamu miya hq #haikyuu smut #tw dubcon #thesmutpilecollab #hq fanfic #osamu miya x reader

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fanmoose12 · 3 years

Text

friday, i’m in love

“Before becoming an official member of our gang, though, you need to do those four things."

"Alright," Hange nods, listening intently.

"First!" Isabel raises her index finger. "You need to punch Zeke in a face, but I'm sure it's bound to happen."

Hange giggles, getting excited. "What's next?"

"Second, you need to skip a class, and you've already done it, so!" Isabel clasps her shoulder. "Congratulations on that one."

Farlan pats her knee too, and Hange shows them a proud smile.

"Third, you need to smoke at least one cigarette."

"I can't," her smile falls, as Hange briefly shakes her head. "I have asthma."

"I'll do it for you then," Farlan offers, walking to the other side of the rooftop to do just that.

"And the last thing! The most important one!" Isabel makes a dramatic pause, shifting her gaze to Levi just for a second, before looking back on Hange with a mischievous smile. She winks and lowers her voice, making sure that Levi doesn’t hear her.

"The last condition - you have to kiss one of us."

For the most kids her age, moving to a different town and changing schools is a fate worth than death. And, while Hange is a little saddened to say goodbye to the friends she made at her old school and more than a little saddened to leave her dad behind, she is also excited at the prospect of starting a new life.

Changing schools means she can meet new people, and meeting new people means she can make new friends.

And Hange, unlike most of her peers, isn't afraid of change. She welcomes it actually, preferring new experiences over dull and repetitive routine.

They move to a new town and to a small two-story house in the quiet suburbs. It’s a little different from the house they used to live before, a little quieter too, but it’s lovely. Hange likes it instantly. She’s ready to call it a new home.

The first couple of weeks are awfully busy. Hange and her mother unpack their things and buy new furniture. They meet their neighbors and her mother starts making new friends.

Hange can’t wait to meet her new friends at school too.

And so very soon, the long-awaited day comes.

***

When it finally does, Hange is brimming with excitement.

She puts on her glasses and dresses in her favorite clothes that was washed and ironed by her mother the evening before, ties her hair in a ponytail, grabs a lunch box that was waiting for her on a kitchen counter, kisses her mother's cheek, yells "love you!" right into her ear, making her wince and push laughing Hange away, hurries to hop on her bike and makes her way to the school.

She makes a new friend in a face of one Moblit Berner approximately three minutes and forty six seconds later after crossing a threshold and passing below a banner that read Sina High School.

Moblit is a nice and friendly boy, even if a bit quiet and timid, compared to her. Although, Hange also has to admit that compared to her, almost everyone seems to be quiet and timid.

Moblit is incredibly kind and he offers to show Hange around the school. He agrees to walk her to every class and even draws a small, but very detailed map for her.

During lunch, Moblit remains by her side. As they slowly eat their food, Hange points at random students who pique her interest and Moblit shares with her his opinion of them.

"That's Erwin and Mike," Moblit says, when Hange asks him about two blondes that sit in the very middle of the cafeteria. "Erwin is president of a debate club, also his father works at our school, he's a history teacher. Mike is a captain of a football team. They're nice guys, and Erwin is always ready to help, if you struggle with a class. Although, he's not that good at math..."

Hange nods, absorbing the information and committing it to memory. Her gaze lingers at Erwin and Mike for a few more seconds, before it moves on to a next target, this time two petite redheads.

"Ah, Nifa and Petra," Moblit fondly smiles. "They're both cheerleaders. Petra is also a member of a drama club, and Nifa helps me manage a biology club."

"Biology club?" Hange lights up, carelessly tossing her sandwich onto the table. She can’t believe her luck. She loves science and was the president of a chemistry club back in her old school. She didn’t dare to hope that the new school would give her an opportunity to continue pursuing her passions. "Can I join?"

"You really want to?" Moblit asks, biting his lip. Doubt is written all over his face. "We don't have a lot of members..."

"Of course, I want to!" Hange exclaims much louder than she intended to. As a result, she attracts attention of some students who turn to look at her. Some seem curious, others - annoyed. Hange pays no mind to either. She grabs Moblit by the shoulders and stares deep into his eyes. "I'm so excited already! When is your next meeting?"

"This Friday..."

"Awesome! Expect me to be here!" she clasps Moblit's back, almost making him choke, and then sweeps her gaze across the cafeteria, looking for someone interesting.

"There!" she points at the girl with long, dark hair that sits in the far corner of the room with a blonde boy by her side. "Who is that?"

"That's Pieck," Moblit answers. "She's involved in a drama club too, although she mostly just helps with painting the backgrounds for the scenes. And that's... all I know about her. She's nice, and I think she's dating Porco, or, maybe, Porco is dating Reiner, or, maybe, Reiner is dating Berthold... sorry," he rubs his neck in embarrassment. "I don't really pay attention to that kind of stuff, and their relationship is pretty complicated."

"Don't worry," Hange pats his arm. "I get confused with that kind of stuff all the time. Now! Who is that?"

Her finger points at a bespectacled guy with blonde hair.

Moblit's face twists in disgust. "That's Zeke Yeager. He's the biggest jerk and bully of our school. Try to stay away from him, and—" he nods at the redheaded boy sitting next to him. "And his pal Floch. He's even worth than Zeke."

Hange wants to ask more about them, but then she notices a boy, who sits in the furthest corner of the cafeteria.

Hange is sure that wearing leather jackets is prohibited in this school, but this boy doesn't seem to care. He is dressed in a white t-shirt and a big, black leather jacket. His hair is black too and the longer strands of it obscure his eyes. But even that can’t hide the fact that the boy is wearing a displeased, irritated expression. Hange wonders about the reason for the sour face.

"Hey!" she points her finger at him. "Who is that shorty?"

"Shh!" Moblit hurriedly lowers her hand, his eyes widening in panic. "Don't point your finger at him! And, for the love of god, don't call him shorty, Hange! Better yet, try not to talk or even look at him."

"Eh?" Hange frowns. "What do you mean? What's wrong with that guy?"

"That's Levi Ackerman," Moblit says, lowering voice to a hushed whisper. “Those two are his best friends – Isabel and Farlan,” he shows Hange a small redheaded girl and a tall guy with white hair that sit next to Levi. “And you should never mess with them."

"So they’re worse than Zeke and his friend?"

"Much worse," Moblit confirms, his eyes grim and serious. "Everyone says they’re a part of some gang. They say that Isabel is a thief, and Farlan is an arsonist. And Levi Ackerman…” Moblit purses his lips, a shadow of fear flushing across his face. “Once he broke Mike's jaw for calling him a midget, and some say that he had killed a man with his bare hands just for pouring out coffee on him. Whatever happens, try to stay away from the three of them, Hange."

"If you say so..." Hange murmurs. She takes a bite of her sandwich, continuing to stare at the dark-haired boy. Suddenly he looks up, and Hange almost chokes.

His eyes bore into hers with a surprising intensity. They are cold and grey, like the edge of a knife.

Hange lifts her lips in what she hopes is a friendly smile.

Levi Ackerman scoffs and looks away.

Hange continues watching him, waiting for their eyes to meet again. They don’t.

But as Hange leaves the cafeteria, trailing after Moblit like a little lost duckling, she can't get the look he had given her out of her mind.

Levi Ackerman... What an enigma.

***

It is Friday afternoon, and the sun is gently passing through the already yellowing leafs. The warm light paints the world in golden colors, making it seem more warm and welcoming.

Hange, however, has no time to enjoy the beauty around her. It is Friday afternoon, and she is running late.

She was so excited for the first biology club meeting, that’s the only thing she could think about for the whole week. She gathered all the science projects she had done at the old school and she prepared a small presentation for other club members and she even thought of a few suggestions to expand the club, which, as she understood from Moblit’s words, was quite small.

All this work, all these preparations and now she is running late, because she stayed after class to talk with Mr. Smith and forgot about the time.

And, to make matters worse, she is lost. The part of school she finds herself in is completely unfamiliar to her, and she can’t quite understand how she got here in the first place.

Cursing herself, Hange takes out a map Moblit made for her, tracing the drawing with her index finger and muttering Moblit’s instructions under her breath.

“Go to the second floor, take the first turn to the left and then walk to the end of the hallway…”

A second later it dawns at her – she is in the wrong wing and on the wrong floor.

Muttering another curse, Hange turns around and rushes to the stairs. Holding the research notes she wrote the night before to her chest with one hand, she keeps Moblit’s map in front of her eyes, checking it after each turn she takes.

She is just about to enter a hallway that leads to the biology classroom, when she collides with something. Stumbling, she falls down, her papers flying around.

She blinks a few times, trying to get a sense of her surroundings. Moblit didn’t draw anything that would prepare her for the obstacle that caused her fall.

She slowly looks up. In front of her, seemingly larger than life is a pair of steely grey eyes.

Levi Ackerman, Hange realizes immediately. He is on the floor too, right next to her. And he doesn’t seem too pleased about it.

She gulps. For the first time in her life, Hange doesn’t know what to say.

“The hell you’re wearing those glasses for?” the boy growls, getting up. “Watch where you’re going, four-eyes.”

“Ah, sorry!” Hange exclaims. His rude, throaty voice does a great job of pushing her out of stupor. “I’m just new at this school, and so I got little lost, but, thankfully, my friend Moblit drew me a map, and that’s why I didn’t look where I was—”

“Jesus,” Levi groans. “Shut the fuck up. Give me that shit.”

Before Hange can protest, he snatches the map out of her hands. His eyebrows form a line as he studies the small drawing.

And suddenly Hange remembers what Moblit had said about Levi Ackerman and his warnings to stay away from him.

Once he broke Mike's jaw.

These words ring loudly inside her mind. She had seen Mike in the hallways, he is quite a large guy. And Hange, despite being quite tall for her age, isn’t nearly as big as him. If Levi is able to break Mike’s jaw, what can he do to her?

Hange never had her jaw broken before, so by all accounts it should be a new experience for her. She likes new experiences. But she also likes her jaw and the prospect of having it broken… isn’t all that exciting.

Still sitting on a floor, Hange watches the boy warily.

“You’re looking for a biology class, right?” he asks after he finished studying the map.

“Yes,” Hange nods cautiously.

Suddenly she remembers a girl she used to play with at the playground near her old house. The girl had broken an arm once, after falling off a swing. She screamed and cried and then her mother took her to the doctor, and when she came back, she couldn’t play with little Hange anymore, because her arm was in a sling and she couldn’t move it for almost a whole month.

And that was just an arm. Hange can only imagine how much a broken jaw would hurt. She really isn’t that keen on finding out.

“Of course, you’re a nerd, how I didn’t guess it before,” Levi mutters, as he starts to walk away.

Hange stares at his back, wondering if the storm had passed.

Evidently, it hadn’t – Levi turns around. He arches his eyebrow, looking at Hange quizzically.

“Did you hit your head or something, four-eyes? Get up, I’ll lead you to the class. You’re in the wrong wing, idiot.”

Hange is still confused – wasn’t he going to beat her up? But then she remembers the reason for this whole mess.

“The meeting!” she cries out, hurriedly gathering the papers that are scattered across the floor.

As she kneels on the wooden floor, picking up the papers, Levi’s words finally register in her mind.

“Wait!” she looks up at him. “You said I’m in a wrong wing again?”

“Well, aren’t you slow,” he deadpans. “Here,” he hands her the last one of her papers. For a second, their fingers brush against each other, and Hange finds out that in contrast to his eyes, Levi’s hands are warm. But before she can decide if his skin is soft or not, Levi pulls away, turning around. “Let’s go before I change my mind.”

“You’re… going to lead me to the class?” Hange clarifies, cautiousness returning to her face.

“That’s what I said, right?” Levi starts to walk, not looking back at her. “Or is your hearing as shitty as your eyesight?”

“Not really,” Hange chuckles, following after him.

Levi Ackerman isn’t going to beat her up. She is almost certain.

***

“Hange, you’re here!” as soon as she enters the classroom, Moblit is beside her. “I thought you forgot about our meeting!”

“How could I?” Hange grins, easing his worry. “I was preparing the whole week for this! I just got a bit lost on my way here, sorry for being late.”

“You got lost? How did you find us then?” the petite redhead walks up to her too.

Not the redhead – Nifa, cheerleader and Moblit’s friend, Hange remembers.

“You used my map, right?” Moblit asks.

“Eh, no,” Hange rubs her neck, feeling a little shy. “Levi helped me get here.”

“Levi?” Nifa’s eyes widen in surprise. “As in the Levi Ackerman? The scariest guy of our school?”

“I guess?” Hange answers. “He was right there—” she opens the door to show Levi to Nifa and Moblit, he couldn’t have left far away, he had walked her to the door, after all, but unfortunately – the hallway is empty. She turns back to Moblit and Nifa with a helpless chuckle. “And he already left…”

“Are you sure that was Levi?” Moblit narrows his eyes a fraction, looking doubtful.

“I…” before she can reply, Hange remembers that she didn’t actually ask for his name. But those grey eyes… they can’t belong to anyone else. At the same time, Hange senses that no matter what she is going to say, neither Moblit nor Nifa would believe her.

And it doesn’t matter, not really. After all, they have a more pressing matter on their hands right now.

The vast and enigmatic world of molecular biology.

She clasps her hands together, attracting attention of the two boys, who stand at the other side of the classroom. They look up and Hange smiles, making a mental note to introduce herself to them later.

She unzips her bag, taking out her laptop and gathering her notes. “I’ve prepared a small report!” she announces, opening the first slide of her forty minutes long presentation.

***

It is a nice day. Despite the calendar showing that it is already October, the weather is warm enough to mistake it for the end of May.

The sky is clear and blue, the apple Hange is eating is juicy and sweet and her conversation with Moblit is engaging and fun.

With a bright smile on her lips, Hange lifts her face up to the sky, squinting against the blinding light. The sunbeams dance across her skin, kissing her cheeks and nose with their gentle warmth.

It is a nice day. But then a shadow obscures her view of the sun.

Hange opens her eyes, frowning at the sudden intrusion.

Next to her, Moblit falls silent. In front of her, Floch and two of his friends smirk, looking down on them.

"Get lost, Zoe," Floch tells flippantly, sparring her no more than a single glance. "Your boyfriend and I need to have a little chat."

Hange feels her chest fill with rage.

"Like hell I would!" she raises to her feet, fists clenching in anger.

In a month she spent at Sina High, she learnt a lot about Floch. She learnt that he is stupid and simpleminded, cruel and cowardly. Most of all, he is a bully.

Hange hates bullies with all the fierceness of her heart.

She had her fair share of taunting and mockery before. The kids made fun of her for wearing glasses, for having a large nose, for being too loud or too weird. Hange knows that the only one way to deal with endless jabs and sneers is to fight back. And over the course of her sixteen years of life she got amazingly good at it.

"Hange—" Moblit whispers, grasping her sleeve desperately. "Hange, please, do as he says."

"No!" Hange declares, glaring fiercely at Floch. "I'll stay with you, Moblit."

"Your mistake," Floch huffs, the smirk on his face growing wider. Behind his back, his friends flex their fists. "One nerd or two, what does it matter? I'll easily deal with both of you."

"I wouldn't be so sure," Hange warns, narrowing her eyes at him.

Getting into a fight isn't anything new for her. Unfortunately, having her ass kicked isn't anything new for her either. Even so, she isn't going to back down.

Hange braces herself, raising her fists and putting her left leg behind her for support. Watching Floch closely, she wonders where he would hit first. Her left or right cheek? Her nose or jaw? Or maybe, he'd go to the legs first? Hange doubts it, Floch doesn't seem to be that smart.

He raises his fist and Hange closes her eyes, preparing herself for the sharp sting of pain.

It never comes. Instead, a shadow appears in front of her again, this one much darker.

A second passes, and nothing happens. And then she hears Floch's feeble whimper.

Hange gingerly opens her eyes.

Holding Floch's fist in his hand, Levi Ackerman is standing before her, his wide back, as always, clad in black leather jacket.

"What's the matter, Floch?" he speaks in a low voice. "Got tired of picking fights with middle schoolers?"

Floch doesn't answer, his eyes turning wide, and Levi twists his arm, throwing him on the ground.

"Get the fuck out of here," he spits out, turning away as though just the sight of Floch disgusts him.

Not needing him to tell twice, Floch shoots to his feet and runs, his friends following after him.

Hange watches them with deep sense of satisfaction. She would prefer to make Floch leave with the use of her own fists, but that— that is nice too. And totally painless.

"We should go as well, Hange," Moblit mumbles, tugging insistently at her shirt.

"You go first," Hange answers, not taking her eyes off Levi. "I need to go to the bathroom."

"Hange..." Moblit's quiet voice is disapproving, and Hange turns to look at him, curving her lips in a smile. "I'll be right behind you, don't worry."

"Just be careful," he instructs at last, before grabbing his bag and walking away.

With Floch and Moblit gone, Hange is left alone with Levi.

Or... not.

As Hange looks around, she realizes that Levi had left too. By now, his dark figure is nothing more than a small dot on a horizon. Hange hurries after him.

"Hey, hey, Levi! Wait!" she desperately tries to catch up with him. Levi doesn't slow down.

"Go away, four-eyes," he mutters without even looking at her.

Like hell she would.

Hange speeds up and in a matter of seconds, she reaches Levi. Huffing and painting, she struggles to keep up with his confident stride. But she doesn’t give up.

"Hey— hey, I just—" she inhales, then swiftly exhales. "I just wanted to ask," another deep breath, this one's much shakier. "Why did you help me?"

Levi stops long enough to turn around and throw her a dark look. "I didn't."

"You did!" Hange persists. "For the second time!"

"Leave me alone," he scoffs and starts to walk again.

Naturally, Hange follows after him. Levi passes the main entrance to school and heads to the side door.

He's going to skip a class, Hange realizes.

She has never skipped a class before. How exciting!

"It makes me think," she continues talking as though she didn't hear his last words. "Maybe, you're a bit misunderstood. I don't think you're as scary as everyone thinks you are."

"I'm much scarier," Levi mutters, moving up the stairs.

He is going up on a rooftop, Hange guesses. Again, she has never been on a rooftop before. Double excitement!

"And if you don't wish me to show you how scary I can be, I advise you to leave me alone."

"Nope," Hange smiles, not moved by his threat. She almost has him figured out. Levi Ackerman, the presumable gangster and the most fearsome student of Sina High isn't quite as terrible as he appears to be. "You won't hurt me."

"And why the fuck not?" Levi grunts, pushing the door to the rooftop open. He tries to shove it in her face, but Hange is faster, and she passes the threshold before he can push the door closed.

"Because you're nice," Hange easily answers.

"I'm really not."

Pushing his hands into the pockets of his jacket, Levi walks up to edge of rooftop and plops down on the floor. Hange sits next to him. She turns her head around and watches the grand blue sky above her. At the sight of it all, breath catches in her throat.

Paying her no mind, Levi takes out a pack of cigarettes and puts a stick into his mouth.

He lifts a lighter, when Hange speaks.

"Can you smoke later?" she asks carefully. "You see, I have asthma..."

Levi curses under his breath. He sighs and puts the cigarette down. Hange beams.

"I was right after all," she bumps her shoulder against his. "You are a nice."

"I'm going to push you off the edge," he promises darkly. Hange's smile doesn't falter.

"Don't you have to be in class?" Levi questions. "Why are you bothering me?"

"You're nice," Hange repeats. "I want to be your friend."

"I don't."

Hange snickers. As if she would give him a choice.

They don't speak after that. Hange, still smiling, returns to gazing up at the sky, lazily watching the movements of clouds.

Levi seems to be slowly coming with the grips that to get rid of her he most probably would have to act on his threat and push her off the edge. With a sour expression, he braces his hands against the railing and stares at the ground below.

The silence, surprisingly, is pleasant and comfortable. It is broken by the sound of the door opening. Hange turns around, and sees Levi's friends - Farlan and Isabel - climb on a rooftop.

As they notice her, their faces brighten up.

"Levi!" Isabel runs up to him. "So you finally gathered enough courage? I'm so proud of you!"

"Izzy," Farlan takes her by the elbow, just before she can latch herself onto Levi. "I don't think he has."

"Eh?" Hange shifts her gaze from Farlan and Isabel to Levi. Something is going on, but she can't pinpoint what exactly.

"Shut up," Levi barks at his friends. "Four-eyes just decided to follow me up here, and now I can’t get rid of her."

"I just wanted to thank you," Hange grumbles, crossing hands on her chest and pursuing her lips in a pout. "For saving me from Floch and his friends."

"Oh!" Isabel's eyes lighten up. She jumps to Hange's side. "Big brother saved you?" she asks with a dreamy smile. "Levi, that's so—"

"Shut up, Isabel," he growls. "I'm not joking."

"Killjoy," Isabel whispers, throwing him a dark look.

Farlan takes a sit next to Hange, offering her his hand. "I'm Farlan," he says with a friendly smile. "And that’s," he gestures to the girl. "As you may have gathered, is our friend Isabel. Nice to finally meet you."

"Nice to meet you too," Hange answers, shaking his hand. "I'm—"

"Hange," Farlan interrupts. "Yes," he briefly glances at Levi, his eyes alight with amusement. "We know."

"We should be friends!" Isabel announces, throwing her arm around her shoulders.

"I would like to," Hange replies. "But Levi doesn't seem to agree."

"Pay him no mind," Isabel waves her hand. "He’s just naturally that grumpy. As for Farlan and me, we’re ready to accept you in our ranks. Before becoming an official member of our gang, though, you need to do those four things."

"Alright," Hange nods, listening intently.

"First!" Isabel raises her index finger. "You need to punch Zeke in a face, but I'm sure it's bound to happen."

Hange giggles, getting excited. "What's next?"

"Second, you need to skip a class, and you've already done it, so!" Isabel clasps her shoulder. "Congratulations on that one."

Farlan pats her knee too, and Hange shows them a proud smile.

"Third, you need to smoke at least one cigarette."

"I can't," her smile falls, as Hange briefly shakes her head. "I have asthma."

"I'll do it for you then," Farlan offers, walking to the other side of the rooftop to do just that. Levi, who still holds a pack in his palm, doesn't join him, not moving from his place next to Hange.

"The last condition - you have to kiss one of us."

***

After that first time on the roof, their friendship progresses rapidly. Hange starts hanging out in the mall with Isabel, playing basketball with Farlan, skipping classes and walking home with Levi.

And very soon she finds out the truth about her new friends. Isabel isn't actually a thief, Farlan isn't an arsonist and Levi, obviously, has never murdered anyone.

Those rumors are just that - rumors.

"But what about Mike?" Hange asks.

The four of them are sitting side by side on what Hange likes to call their place - up on a rooftop of the school. Their shoulders are pressed tightly against each other, and their feet are dangling off the edge. The light from a setting sun reflects in her glasses, making her squint. On a scale of perfect days, this one is pretty close to the top.

In response to her question, Levi groans. Isabel and Farlan start laughing.

"I'm afraid that's another rumor," Farlan explains to the confused Hange.

"Although, Mike did break a jaw once," Isabel notes with a crooked grin.

"But not by me." Levi grits through his teeth. "That giant idiot got drunk and fell down the stairs. And because he was too embarrassed to tell the truth, he blamed it on me."

"So, you just let him do it?" Hange stares at Levi with raised eyebrows. "Didn't do anything even though he lied about you?” Levi nods and Hange smiles. “I stand corrected then, you're nice."

"I'm serious, four-eyes," Levi growls, sending her one of his meanest looks. "One day, I'll push you off this roof."

Hange throws her head back and laughs. Isabel and Farlan join her.

***

"Well, let's start our meeting, shall we?" Hange rubs her hands in anticipation, excited to tell her fellow club members about a study she recently found.

But before she can turn on her laptop and put on a new presentation, Nifa grips her elbow.

"It's all very thrilling," she smiles.

"It really is," Moblit nods eagerly.

"But we wanted to know something else."

Hange blinks a few times, and then feels color rise to her cheek. She suddenly realizes that in the past two months she was always the one to lead the meetings. It is quite understandable that Nifa wants her turn.

"Of course, if there's something you wish to share, we all gladly listen, Nifa."

"Oh no, I don't wish to share anything. On the contrary, there is so something I want to ask you."

The bright, enthusiastic look in her eyes is intriguing. Hange wonders what is it that Nifa wants to know - is it about a thesis she made last week? Or a week before that?

"I'm all ears," Hange promises, taking Nifa's hands into hers.

"So how does it feel," Nifa begins. "To date the most dangerous boy of our school?"

It takes Hange an embarrassingly long amount of time to realize who Nifa is talking about.

"Levi?" she breathes finally. "But we aren't— we aren��t dating! We’re just friends!"

Nifa plucks her lips and looks at Hange with suspicion and disbelief.

"But you're always together," she notes, staring at Hange through narrowed eyes.

"We're really not," Hange counters easily. "We just hang out sometimes."

"You skip classes with him. And he walks you home."

"And he saved you from Floch that one time," Moblit, the goddamn traitor, adds.

"And you're the only one he talks to, beside his two best friends." Nifa concludes with a confident smirk.

Hange looks from Moblit to Nifa, feeling at a loss of words.

It's not that she has never thought about it, she did sometimes, when Levi walked her home, and their hands brushed against each other, or when they sat on the roof together, their shoulders touching. Levi is handsome, even Hange - as bad as her eyesight is - knows that. But she also knows that Levi thinks she's messy and annoying. The hell would freeze sooner than he'd look at her like that.

So despite her frequent heart palpitations and leaps in breathing levels, Hange ignores her little crush, putting it to the furthest shelf of her mind.

Being friends with Levi is good enough. She doesn't wish for more.

And that's exactly what she tells to Moblit and Nifa.

"You're reading into things," she chuckles, dismissing their claims. "And now, it's time to read into something else!" she turns on the first slight of her presentation.

Moblit smiles and takes out his notebook. Nifa groans.

***

It's one of those days, when the world is bleak and grey, and the heavy clouds reign across the sky.

Looking out of the window, Hange feels an infinite sadness that isn't entirely caused by gloomy weather. For a second, she even debates skipping school at all, her mother probably wouldn't be against it, but Hange gets rid of that thought fairly quickly. It's not who she is, and wallowing in self-pity was never the way she dealt with her problems. Besides, the classes will provide an excellent distraction for her unhappy thoughts.

So Hange gets dressed, puts her hair in the usual ponytail and leaves her room. She greets her mother, who doesn't look quite as lively as she usually does, and kisses her cheek.

"I'll be home at five," Hange says quietly and walks outside.

The wind ruffles her hair, messing it up even more. It gets in her face and Hange pushes it away with a jerky movement of her wrist. She moves past her bike, deciding to walk to the school on her feet.

There are lots of things on her mind, and a lengthy stroll presents a perfect opportunity to think all of it through.

Hange walks through the grey, foggy streets with her head cast down. She stares at the ground, but not even an occasional sight of a sleazy worm is enough to lift her mood.

She reaches the gates of a school, when someone grabs her elbow.

Startled, she looks up. Levi is standing beside her.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his frown more prominent than usual.

“Nothing,” Hange lies, avoiding his sharp eyes.

Today they don’t remind her of the knife’s edge. Today, Hange thinks, they look just like a sky before a storm.

“What’s your first class?”

Levi stands close to her, too close. People are going to talk, Hange can’t help but think. But Levi doesn’t seem to care about it.

“English,” she answers, staring at her feet.

“Let’s go then,” moving his hand from her elbow, Levi grabs her by the sleeve of her hoodie. He starts walking, dragging Hange along. And because her eyes are still cast down, Hange doesn’t notice that they aren’t headed to a classroom until it’s a little too late.

Of course, Levi leads her to the roof.

He sits her down and looks at her expectantly. Hange shifts her gaze to a side. Under Levi's intense stare, something stirs inside her. There is worry in his eyes, Hange realizes. This revelation makes butterflies in her stomach slowly come to life.

Hange tries her best to ignore them.

"I'm fine, really," she repeats. She doesn't know who she's trying to fool - Levi or herself. She doesn’t achieve success with either of them.

The harsh wind is stronger on the roof, it blows through her hair, gets under her hoodie and sips deep in her bones. Hange suppresses a shiver.

"Idiot," Levi mutters, following it with an irritated tsk. He unzips his jacket, takes it off and drapes it around her shoulders.

Heat rises to her cheeks instantly. She feels incredibly warm and she knows that the jacket isn't the reason for it. The butterflies, despite her best efforts, happily flutter their wings.

"You'll catch a cold..." she whispers weakly. Levi is wearing a thin grey pullover and Hange can only imagine how cold he must be.

"Ackermans don't get sick," he says confidently, making Hange snicker. The corners of his lips twitch and he gently nudges her. "So what happened, four-eyes?"

Hange looks up, staring at the horizon. The skies seem even darker up there, and she briefly wonders how much time they can spend here until the rain starts and a need to hide from it forces them inside.

She wraps the jacket tighter around herself, and the sharp scent enters her nostrils. It smells like soap and cigarette smoke. It smells just like Levi.

Hange glances at him, and his stare is unwavering as he waits for her to start talking.

Hange sighs and begins.

"It's my dad," she confesses softly. "He's... getting married next week. And—" she chuckles, meaning for it to sound easy and cheerful. It comes out bitter and hollow instead. "I found out about that from his post on Facebook. He didn't invite me, didn't even tell me about this. I know— I know that he has a new family now. And I know that I probably remind him of the time when he was married to my mom, and I guess it wasn't a great experience for either of them, but still... he threw me out of his life so easily. It makes me sad, I guess."

"It's his loss," Levi says. "If he doesn't realize it, then he doesn't deserve you."

"Levi..." Hange whispers, aghast. She expected him to ignore her whining, or call her pathetic, but this… Hange doesn’t what to think. The warm feeling inside her is almost too much to bear.

"I know I'm not the best with words," Levi admits, while Hange is still busy processing his last ones and how good they made her feel. "But I can call Isabel, if you wish. Or that Berner boy," he adds with a tight-lipped expression.

Hange smiles, touched by his offer. But she talked it through already, last night with her mother. Today, she needs something else.

"Can we stay like this, please?" she asks, looking at him beneath her eyelashes.

"Sure," he agrees easily. And then— Levi does the unexpected again. He wraps his arm around her, pulling her closer. Her nose is pressed against his collarbone, and the butterflies go wild.

Hange pays them no mind. Levi is warm and he smells nice. She hides a smile into his shirt.

The sadness she felt throughout the morning disappears. With Levi's arms around her, Hange feels impossibly happy.

***

It's almost seven in the evening, and the streets are already dark when Hange leaves the school after another biology club meeting.

The alleyway next to the school is dimly lit, so Hange almost misses a figure that sits on one of the benches. She stops as soon as she sees that dark silhouette, though. Despite the poor street lighting and her own imperfect eyesight, Hange recognizes him instantly. And wonders what is he doing there.

Levi walks her home every day, except Fridays. Fridays are club meeting days, and Hange often leaves the school late in the evening.

Levi never waits for her on Fridays.

So why is he here now?

Hange silently walks up to him, approaching him with a bit of caution. Levi sits weirdly, his shoulders seem too stiff. Her stomach churns with worry.

"Levi?" she softly calls. "Levi, what are you doing here?"

"Hange," he keeps his eyes trained on the ground, and Hange's worry increases. She doesn't like the hollowness of his voice.

Then she lowers her gaze, and the worry skyrockets. Levi's hands— they are covered in blood. She gasps and grabs his chin, turning his face to the light. A bloodied lip, a bruise on a cheek - Hange swears when she sees them.

"What happened?" she is instantly by his side, taking his hands into hers. She brings them closer to her face, looking for injuries.

"Zeke." Levi says.

"He's the one who did all of this to you?"

"Of course not," Levi throws her a sharp, offended look. "He just brought more friends than I could deal with."

"What a fucker," Hange mutters, anger warming up inside her. "Let's go to my place, I'll clean your wounds."

"And what about your mother?" Levi bites his lip. "Won't you get in trouble with her, if you bring me home, looking like this?"

"She has a night shift," Hange stands up, outstretching her hand to Levi. "And besides," she continues. "I’m sure my mom would adore you,” she winks at Levi, grinning. “Just like I do.”

***

Hange brings Levi home and tends to his wounds. She cleans his skinned knuckles and wipes the blood from his lip. She tries to be gentle, apologizing over and over each time Levi winces. Every time he hisses or grits his teeth, the anger inside Hange grows bigger and bigger. She swears to herself that she won’t let Zeke get away with it.

When she starts wrapping bandages around his knuckles, her hands shake and tremble.

She wants to think that her inexperience is to blame, but she knows that the reason for her nervousness is Levi's warm breath on her cheek and his eyes that follow her every move.

Hange stares into them for a second. They look nothing like a knife's edge right now. They don't remind her of a sky before storm either. They're the color of a full moon. They're shining just as brightly.

"You're wrapping them too tight," Levi complains, breaking Hange out of her reverie.

"Oh, sorry!" Hange giggles, embarrassed. She hurries to rectify her mistake, but ends up making even a bigger mess, tangling up the bandages.

Levi sighs and snatches them out of her hands.

"You're shit at this," he says, bandaging his knuckles himself.

Hange snickers and watches him, committing each move to memory. She hopes she won’t need this knowledge in the future. But in case she does, next time she wants to be able to help.

“You can stay for the night,” Hange offers when his injuries are cared for. “We can put on a movie, make some popcorn…”

“Maybe, some other time,” Levi gently declines. “My mom probably worries like crazy. I should get home, before she sends Kenny after me.”

His refusal disappoints Hange a bit, but she doesn’t take it personally. She knows how much Levi cares about his mother. And she knows how much he hates causing her worry.

So she makes him promise to hang out tomorrow and walks him to the door.

"Thank you," Levi tells her, standing in the doorway.

"I didn't do anything..." she tries to protest.

"You did more than enough,” he says, the grey of his eyes softening. “Goodnight, Hange.”

“Goodnight,” she echoes, watching him go with a heavy heart.

***

After that Friday, Hange lets her anger brew for a whole weekend.

On Monday, she comes to school and seeks out Zeke. His friends stand around him, as she approaches, but Hange pays them no mind. She marches up to Zeke, grabs him by the collar and punches him in the face.

His loud shriek and a pathetic whimper that follows are absolutely priceless.

"That's for Levi," she glowers, before walking away, a smirk on her lips and her head held up high.

She gets sent to detention for that, but Levi calls her an idiot with a fond smile on his face, and Hange thinks it was all worth it.

He gets into a fight with Floch the very same day, and during detention they sit side by side, exchanging silly notes and making funny faces at each other.

"Just one condition left," Isabel tells her the next day, winking suggestively.

***

It is another Friday night, and Hange is engaged in a losing battle with her calculus homework. No matter what she does, what formula uses, nothing seems to work.

Her eyes are getting tired from glaring at her notebook, and Hange rubs at them, suppressing a yawn. It’s a little past ten, but she already feels exhausted, drained to the bone.

She thinks of just abandoning it all and going to sleep, when a small rock lands on her desk. Hange blinks a few times, utterly confused.

How did it get here?

She scratches her head, trying to make sense of it. A second later, another rock appears.

Hange looks up, turns to the window— and smile breaks on her face. She squeals in delight, jumping to her feet and coming to grip the windowsill.

Levi is sitting on a branch of a tree that grows near her house. He wears his signature jacket, and he’s looking at Hange with the expression of fond annoyance that he reserves exclusively for her.

“Took you long enough to notice me,” he grumbles. “I was thinking of aiming the next rock at your stupid head.”

Hange laughs, not taking his words to heart. She knows Levi well enough by now to see through his insults and sarcasm.

“Are you free right now?” he asks, before Hange gets her chance to question what is he doing up on a tree.

“It’s Friday night and I’m sick of doing my homework, so…” she shrugs. “I am as free as I can be.”

“Alright. And your mom? Is she at home?”

“She is, but she’s already asleep.”

“Get out then.”

“Eh? What does that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what I said,” Levi scoffs. The confused expression doesn’t leave her face, so he rolls his eyes and adds, “I stole the keys to Kenny’s bike. Do you want to take a ride on it or not?”

Hange feels her lips twitching. She wants to say ‘yes’ so badly, but for the sake of messing with Levi, she puts on a doubtful frown.

“Won’t you get in trouble with your uncle?”

“Only if he finds out.”

“Will he be able to find out?”

“Most certainly.”

"And you still wanna do it?" she asks, just to see the exasperated look Levi throws her.

"Of course," he answers through his teeth, his patience starting to run thin.

"Alright!" she finally agrees. She jumps and clasps her hands together, unable to contain her excitement. "Just wait a sec, I need to change my clothes!"

Levi nods, throws ‘don’t take too long’ and starts climbing off a tree.

Just as she promised, Hange gets ready in record time. She jumps out of the window, landing next to Levi with a pained huff.

"Are you alright?" he steadies her, his eyes shadowed with worry.

"Sure!" Hange assures him with a smile. "The landing was just a bit rougher than I expected."

"You could have left through the front door, like a normal person." Levi notes.

"But where is the fun in that?" Hange counters.

Levi shakes his head and curses her idiocy under his breath. Hange claps his shoulder and chuckles.

"Shall we go?" she raises her arms to tie up her hair.

"Don't." Levi blurts out suddenly.

Hange stops in her tracks, gawking at him. "Eh?"

"Leave it like that," his voice is rough and breathy as he speaks. Levi turns his face away, and Hange desperately wishes to know what it looks like right now. She bets it’s all red and flustered. "When you wear your hair down... It’s not a bad look on you."

Hange can't believe it. Did she mishear? Misunderstood something? Or did Levi really just pay her a compliment?

Now it’s her turn to be flustered. She feels her face redden. Her heart starts to hummer in her chest.

Levi doesn’t give her enough time to process, and, of course, to retaliate.

"I parked the bike near your house," he walks away so briskly, it's hard for Hange to catch up.

When she does, Levi is already standing next to a shining black motorcycle. Hange knows next to nothing about motorcycles, but, in her opinion, the thing looks cool. She runs a hand over it, and her excitement almost makes her feel dizzy.

She has never ridden a motorcycle. But she is sure it's quite a thrilling experience.

"Put that on," Levi instructs, handing her a helmet. "And hold on to me, alright?"

"Of course!" Hange mockingly salutes.

"Don't do anything stupid, four-eyes," he glowers before putting a helmet on his own head and getting onto the bike.

Hange waits for him to sit down and then she follows his suit. She wraps her arms around Levi, fisting her hands into the lapels of his leather jacket.

"Ready?" he asks, his voice muffled by a helmet.

Hange nods, pressing her head to his shoulder.

Levi starts the motorcycle and carefully rides onto the street. He maneuvers out of the narrow path and onto the broad road. He speeds up after that and Hange can't hold in a delighted chuckle. She raises her head and looks around.

The streets they pass by are nothing more than a blur of bright lights and vivid colors, and Hange can't stop staring at it all. To make the experience even more electrifying, she's pressed so close to Levi that she can feel his heartbeat. Or, maybe, that's an echo of her own. Their proximity makes it hard to tell. She also feels incredibly warm, having her arms wrapped around him makes Hange forget about the harsh wind that seems even stronger as they ride through the night city.

Levi obviously has a final destination in mind, but Hange doesn't care, not right now, when she is filled with so much joy and elation.

She feels so free, she feels so good, so happy, she is so—

"I swear to god, Hange!" Levi shouts over the wind. "If you're thinking of dangling your arms in the air or some equally dumb shit, I'm going to throw you off this thing myself!"

Hange laughs, wild and unbridled.

She is so in love.

*** Levi brings them to the beach.

As soon as he stops the engine, Hange gets off the bike and runs to the sea, kicking away her shoes as she goes. She steps into the water and yells, instantly jumping out of it. The water is freezing, but Hange is stubborn. She wants to try again, hoping that her body would adjust. Before she can take a single step in that direction, though, she is roughly yanked back.

She turns around and meets Levi's sizzling gaze.

"Sit the fuck down," he growls. "Or you wish to get pneumonia?"

Hange can't help it - her heart swells and her stomach tingles.

Levi, despite his dark, scary eyes and scowling face, is surprisingly endearing. He's so cute Hange wants pinch his cheek. Desperately so.

And because she's still filled with adrenaline after their ride, or, maybe, the dark sea and quiet night have an effect on her, Hange does just that.

Levi slaps her hand away a second too late. She laughs, and, to placate him, finally sits down, burying her feet in the sand.

Levi takes a seat next to her. A second later, something heavy and warm falls over her shoulders. Hange touches it with her fingers - it's Levi's jacket.

"It's cold," he explains gruffly, answering the silent question in her eyes.

"Thanks," Hange smiles, and, because she still feels inexplicably bold, she puts her head on his lap.

Levi startles, his whole body goes rigid, but he doesn't push her away, doesn't even complain. After a moment, he relaxes - his hand falls on her shoulder and his fingers starts playing with her hair.

It's nice, Hange thinks. She wishes to stay in this moment forever.

She turns to look at the sea - the stars and moon are reflecting in the darkness of the water, illuminating a narrow path. She points her finger at it.

"I once believed that if you follow that path during full moon, you'll become a mermaid," she tells Levi.

Levi snorts. "You believed in something so stupid? Why am I not surprised?"

"What ridiculous thing did you believe in?"

Levi is silent for a long moment, and Hange thinks he's not going to answer. She opens her mouth to change the topic, but then—

"I believed in Santa until I was thirteen years old."

"What?!" Hange shrieks, rising up from her position to gawk at Levi. "You're serious?"

"Unfortunately," he grunts, pushing her back on his lap. "Kenny put a very convincing show. It's not until I caught my mom hiding presents under a Christmas tree that I finally realized the truth."

Hange really, really tries to keep it in, but she imagines the disappointment on Levi's face and absolutely loses it. Laughter bubbles out of her throat, and Hange curls in on herself, laughing without abandon. Her stomach starts to hurt, tears well up in the corners of her eyes, and Hange still continues to giggle, expressing her mirth until she can't breathe anymore.

"Oh god, Levi," she wipes the tears away. "This is the best thing I've heard in weeks."

"Glad you are having fun on my account," he says dryly.

Hange starts laughing again.

When she finally calms down, the silence falls over them.

It's so quiet there, the only sounds are faraway noises of the city and the loud roar of the sea that accompanies the crashing of waves against the shore.

All of it makes Hange feel at peace in a way she rarely does.

After minutes of staring at the seemingly endless sea and basking in the atmosphere of it all, she tears her gaze away from the it, shifting her eyes to Levi. And finds out - he is looking at her too.

His stare is intense, charged with something she can't quite name, something that makes it impossible to look away.

As their eyes meet, Levi swallows. His hand in her hair stills, and he starts to slowly lower his face to hers. Hange lifts her head too. The tension around them is growing, and Hange forgets how to breathe until— until it hits her.

"Of course!" she cries out, jumping up. She hits Levi's jaw with her forehead, but doesn't pause long enough to fully register it. She can't spare her attention to anything else, the math problem she tried to solve for so long— she finally found the solution.

"Levi!" she seizes his shoulders, staring at him with wide, feverish eyes. "We need to go back, quick!"

"What—"

"I realized how to solve it!" she gets to her feet, pacing around and impatiently waiting for Levi to stand up as well.

"Solve what?" Levi grimaces, looking like he has eaten a sour lemon.

Unfortunately, Hange is too preoccupied with her sudden revelation to notice his expression or even answer his question.

"Way to ruin the moment," he mutters before standing up and walking back to the bike, his face as dark as the sea. ***

It's the last Friday before St. Valentine's Day, and everyone at their school starts going crazy.

Hange is spending lunch with Nifa and Moblit, but their sandwiches lay forgotten, as the three of them curiously watch Porco's pathetic attempt to ask Pieck out. He keeps stuttering and his face is so red, Hange is worried he might pass out, but then Pieck smiles and kisses him on a cheek. Cheers and congratulations are heard from all sides of school cafeteria.

"So it's settled then?" Hange turns to Moblit. "Porco and Pieck are actually dating?"

"I guess..." Moblit tentatively agrees.

"I saw Reiner and Porco kissing the other day," Nifa interrupts.

"And I saw Reiner and Berthold hold hands on their way home," Hange mutters, taking a bite from her sandwich.

"I'm not sure," Moblit rubs his neck. "But I think I caught Pieck making out with Yelena the other day."

"So it's still complicated," Nifa mournfully concludes. "At least, their love life is more interesting than mine..."

"Speaking of love," Moblit quietly begins. Both Hange and Nifa whip their heads to stare at him. Moblit's cheeks turn pink, but he stubbornly continues to look at Hange. "I wanted to ask if..."

Whatever he wanted to ask, Hange doesn't get a chance to find out. Because in the next second, a shadow flashes past them. It appears by her side and drapes a leather jacket over her shoulders.

"It's too cold today," Levi explains, as he sits down next to her, inserting himself between Hange and Moblit.

It's not cold at all, and, besides Hange is wearing a warm pullover.

But that's not the only thing that confuses her. What is Levi doing here? Why is he sitting so close to her? And why is he glaring at Moblit?

"Why are you here, Levi?" Hange decides to start with the easiest question.

"Can't find Farlan and Isabel," he answers flippantly, not taking his eyes from Moblit.

Now that's most certainly a lie. Hange can clearly see Isabel and Farlan sitting in their usual spot, in the furthest corner of cafeteria. And even if she didn't turn around to locate them, Isabel's delighted cackling is heard even from a distance.

"It's best if I go," Moblit says, a drop of sweat rolling down his forehead.

"I'll go with you," Nifa offers, taking her trail.

"We are just friends, my ass," she angrily mutters, throwing another exasperated look at Hange and Levi.

Hange turns to Levi as soon as her friends leave, she really, really wants to know what the fuck had just happened, but she opens her mouth in the exact moment that a bell rings.

Levi wordlessly gets up and disappears in the crowd of students. He forgets to take back his jacket.

***

As Hange moves from class to class, everyone keeps staring at her. It’s not bad kind of attention, no one whispers insults behind her back, Erwin actually approaches, offering sincere congratulations, and when she meets Zeke’s gaze in the hallway, she sees a spark of fear there, and it fills her with a deep sense of satisfaction, but— it also makes her confused.

Why did Levi give his jacket to her? Why did he give her his jacket so many times before? Why has she never seen Isabel or Farlan wear it? What makes her special?

Hange always enjoyed solving riddles. She is determined to find a solution to this one as well.

***

After her last class, Hange rushes to the rooftop. Just as she expected, Levi is there. And, luckily, he’s all alone.

He’s smoking, but as soon as he notices her presence, he puts the cigarette out and waves his hand, getting rid of the smoke.

Sitting beside him, Hange shoots him a grateful smile.

“So did you know about the dance they’re organizing this weekend?” she begins, skipping the pleasentries and small talk. As she speaks, she tilts her head to the side to stare at Levi’s profile. In the light of a setting sun, he looks even more handsome. Her heart picks up its speed. She ignores it and forces words out of her throat. “Do you wish to go?”

“No.”

“Why not?” Hange wonders, not saddened by his answer at all. She was expecting nothing else, after all. “Just imagine – me in a dress and with shitty, smeared lipstick and you in a shirt and tie… We’ll be dancing in a stuffy auditorium, drinking spiced punch and having fun with our peers…”

Levi visibly shudders at her words. “I’d rather jump off this roof.”

Hange snickers in her palm. “And if I go with Moblit?” she asks, watching Levi with a sly smile.

“I’ll throw him off this roof.”

That’s exactly the answer Hange was expecting. Even so, her heart does a flip and her breathing speeds up. Her cheeks feel hot and a wide grin is pulling on her lips. The scariest part is over, but the nerves don’t die out. There are still a few questions she needs answers to.

“And if I asked you out to the movies…”

“That’s not a bad idea…” Levi mumbles, keeping his eyes trained on his feet.

Hange gathers the last of her courage.

“And if I kissed you right now?”

Her heart stops, as she nervously waits for a reply. Millennia pass before she hears Levi’s gruff voice.

“That’s… a very good idea.”

He turns to her, staring at her and the intensity of his piercing gaze makes Hange weak in the knees. There is a moment, where nothing happens, but it lasts for no longer than a heartbeat. Then Levi cups her cheek and moves closer, his lips hovering above hers.

Hange closes her eyes and shortens the small distance that separates them.

The kiss is short, chaste and more than a little bit awkward. Even so, it’s the first kiss in her life and Hange lets her lips linger on Levi’s for a little longer, savoring that moment and committing it to her memory.

When they pull apart, Levi doesn’t let her go. If anything he brings her even closer, bumping their foreheads together.

His eyes are warm and soft, and Hange isn’t sure if she had seen anything more beautiful. But then she lets her eyes wander, slipping lower, and she sees a smile that blooms on his face. She can’t decide what she likes to stare at more – his eyes or his smile. After a second of intense debating, Hange comes to conclusion that both his eyes and his smile are equally breathtaking.

She thinks of asking for another kiss, when she remembers something just as important.

“I finally did it, Levi!” she loudly announces, throwing her hands in the air. “I fulfilled the fourth condition!”

Levi pushes her away with a groan. “Why must you always ruin the atmosphere…” he wonders with a deep scowl on his face.

To be honest, Hange liked it better when he smiled. But, luckily, now she knows a sure way to placate him.

With a gentle smile on her lips, she pulls him closer for another kiss.

#types 9k of the cheesiest dialogues ever written and peppers it with lots of cliche: it's time to post a new fic :)#levihan #levihan fanfiction

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nyrandrea · 3 years

Text

Setting The Stage

My hyperfixation is set back on fnaf again in anticipation for Security Breach, so I’ve decided to write my own interpretation on how the game might begin!

Summary: Gregory had always dreamed of going to Freddy Faxbear’s Mega Pizza Plex and meeting his heroes. But he somehow ends up getting more than he bargained for, and dreams start to turn into nightmares.

Originally planned as a oneshot but had to split it into two parts.Link to next chapter is down below! Also available to read on AO3 here!

Enjoy!

Walking into Freddy Fazbear’s Mega Pizza Plex for the first time was something that every kid in the world should experience, at least according to Gregory’s logic.

And it was that logic – and a lot of puppy dog looks – that just about managed to work on his mom. Because here he was, finally standing in front of the colorful neon sign with his favorite animal mascots welcoming him in.

It had taken a lot of begging and guilt-tripping but he wasn’t ashamed one bit, though his mother might have disagreed, especially when it came to the snivelling part. But hey, it wasn’t his fault she had worked late on his birthday, so she owed him. Big time.

He vaguely recalled her grumbling about having to dip into her savings for this trip.

So that meant that he only had today, and he had to make every second count.

“So...” a voice spoke up from behind him. “Am I finally forgiven?”

Gregory looked up to see his mom giving him ‘the look’, and to that he nodded profusely.

“Good. After today you can finally leave me in peace,” she said, giving his hair a playful ruffle as they walked through the large sliding doors and into the mall.

He decided to push it just a little bit further.

“Can I get a Freddy plushie?”

The little boy swore he could hear a vein pop.

“I already bought tickets for the meet and greet. Do you know how much those cost me?”

He shrugged.

“A lot, and it’s coming out of your college fund.”

“What if I don’t wanna go to college?”

“Maybe you won’t get to after today,” she replied, rubbing at her temples. “Fine. I’ll give you ten dollars and you can buy yourself something at the store when we’re done, alright?”

That was enough to cover a pencil, maybe an eraser as well if he haggled. But he didn’t argue.

Both Gregory and his mom were suddenly blinded when they entered into the main part of the building as bright neon lights bounced off of the high glass ceiling and right into their retinas. Only once they were able to adjust their eyes could they really absorb the true grandeur of the place.

Everywhere you looked there were people: from tired-eyed parents trying to find the next thing to distract their kids to enthusiastic parents who wanted to get involved in everything their kids were doing while filming it on their phone for their blogs. Then there were the snot-nosed teens who were bunking off school and several professional shopping guides with forced smiles wider than Moondrop and Sunrise’s combined. Everyone seemed to move in unison as the hall was filled with the sound of shoes squeaking against the polished checkered floors.

Topping it all off was a massive gleaming golden statue of Glamrock Freddy proudly posed right in the center, singing silently into the microphone as soft music and wacky adverts played in the background.

Suddenly Gregory felt very small.

“It sure is...big, isn’t it?” His mother said, not sounding so confident herself.

He merely nodded in agreement.

Her son-o-meter seemed to be finely tuned as ever as she gently grasped Gregory’s shoulder and gave him a light but reassuring shake.

“C’mon now,” she tenderly prodded. “We’ve got all day to enjoy the place so let’s make the most of it, huh? It’s not every day we get to go to Freddy Fazbear’s Mega Pizza Plex.”

This was true. Coming here had once been only but a dream. Now he was here, staring up at a brilliantly shining statue of Glamrock Freddy. And pretty soon he was going to be meeting the bear himself.

His hand absently went to towards his back-pocket before he made a fist as determination washed over him. Looking up at his mom, he nodded.

“And if I’m remembering right, I think I know the first thing on your to-do list.”

The boy had already grabbed her hand as he made a beeline for their first activity.

“To Fazer Blast!”

xxx

Trying to imitate the pose of the Roxanne cut-out that was behind the reception desk, Gregory pointed his laser blaster at his mom as she attempted to fit on his vest.

“Could you stop fidgeting?”

“But I’m practicing-”

“Stop. Fidgeting.”

He pouted before she struck him with that look again, which he pretended not to notice as he gazed up towards the lady at the reception desk. She looked about in her twenties and was using one hand to push back her long sleek black locks away from her face every five seconds while her other hand typed lazily on a screen.

“So...do I just join a team or...?”

It took her a moment to even register that he was talking to her before she flicked her hair back again just to glare down at him.

“Sure, like, do what you want. It’s your game, you make the rules.”

She seemed to pause for a moment.

“You do, like, know the rules, right?”

Gregory wasn’t sure how to respond to that.

“Uh...sure?”

“Fantastic,” she drawled as she focused her attention back to her tablet. “Your session ends in fifteen minutes.”

His mother rolled her eyes and muttered something about, “kids these days”, but soon smiled and took Gregory’s shoulder as she walked him in.

“Just remember to have fun, alright? Screw the rules.”

“Really?” Gregory asked, his toothy grin twisting into something sinister as he got into the Roxanne pose again.

“Just...don’t run and remember to stay within the walls,” she added on quickly. “Can’t have my little space man getting lost now, can I?”

Gregory made a sound of disgust as he was pulled in for a kiss before she finally let him loose into the brightly colored arena. He couldn’t help but take a moment to stare up in awe as spotlights of purple, green and red shone upon the various props and fixtures that decorated the place.

In the center was a giant space rocket that was surrounded by planets with neon rings glowing around them. The cut-outs from reception were scattered about too, though now they were humongous. Gregory almost couldn’t help but salute the towering Freddy as he walked past.

He also noticed a room near the back walls. It was raised up to overlook the whole arena and was surrounded by green-lit pillars. It fit in with the theme of the room but also...jarringly stood out. Maybe it was a place for parents to watch their kids play, or perhaps the employees?

“Hey Grogery!”

That voice. That name struck fear into his chest as he swirled around to face a group of boys that had aimed their blasters right at him.

“Never thought we’d see you here,” the biggest one said with a smirk. “You sneak in through the gutters or something?”

“Hey... Bob,” Gregory casually greeted. Though it was hard to act so suave when he was trembling.

“It’s Rob.”

“Rob! Yeah...cool to see you too.”

Learning the names of his bullies from class had never been at the top of Gregory’s to-do list, but then again it hadn’t been at the top of theirs either, clearly. But God, why did they have to be here of all places? Of all days, even?

“Nah, his mom probably got him in here with all that hooker money she earns!” The skinny one snorted, making them all burst out into laughter.

“She works at the hospital,” Gregory weakly argued.

“Not what my dad said!” Rob hollered, still rubbing tears from his eyes.

“So, what, is your dad cheating on your mom?” He sniped back with a sneer of his own.

His grin soon disappeared though when they all suddenly stopped laughing and a beat of silence followed, save for the distant laser blasts sounding off around them.

“The hell did you just say to me?” Rob asked, his voice dangerously quiet. If his brows knitted together any tighter then those pimples on the bridge of his nose might pop at any given moment. Gregory grimaced at the very thought.

“N-nothing! Um...I mean- it's technically not cheating if your parents are divorced, right?”

Rob positioned the blaster in his hand not so much as to aim it, but rather throw it.

“Like I said, my mom wouldn’t even do that!”

The pimples popped.

With that, Gregory legged it before the gun could smack him in the face. He dashed between the walls as the angry voices behind him grew distant, he almost felt bad as he climbed through the holes and bumped past people, but hey it was like his mom said, screw the rules, right?

However, it looked like the rules were starting to screw him when he smacked into a dead end. The black wall was too high for him to jump over and the only way out would be to re-trace his steps, which meant...

“C’mon Grogery!” Rob’s voice taunted through the luminous hall. “Let’s see how many knocks to the head you can take before you bleed.”

The boy swallowed a hard lump down his throat as he backed himself up against the wall and looked up at the Roxanne cut-out that towered above him, aiming her blaster with such confidence and attitude. With a deep breath and a firm nod, he did the same with the hope that getting them disqualified might save him.

If not, at least his mom was a first-aider.

“Hey...” A soft, almost girlie voice laced with a mechanical tone called out. “In here.”

Gregory’s head snapped to the right as a hand – or was it a paw? – beckoned him into a dark corner.

“Hurry up...!” The voice urged, and before Gregory could question anything, he saw four shadows creep around as the sound of footsteps thundered towards him, forcing him to make a snap decision and dive into the darkness, getting caught by a pair of skinny, furred arms.

“Shit, where did he go?” Rob shouted as the group gathered where Gregory had been standing just seconds before.

“Looks like he dropped his blaster,” one of them said as he picked it up. “Maybe he climbed the wall?”

There was a sudden yelp as Rob smacked him upside the head.

“Don’t be so fucking stupid, he’s tiny. No way in hell he’d be able to scale that.”

Gregory stiffened as Rob suddenly turned in his direction, but he felt the stranger put a hand on his head, and strangely enough, it calmed him down.

“...C’mon, he’s gotta be around here somewhere,” Rob finally said, pulling the group away. “He can’t hide forever.”

After a few moments of waiting, Gregory let out a breath he didn’t even know he’d been holding.

“Bullies are just the worst, huh?”

Almost jumping out of his skin at the sudden chipper voice cutting through the tense atmosphere like a knife, he glanced up with wide eyes as the figure gave him a little pat on the head.

This was obviously a girl but with the shadows enveloping her it was hard to tell exactly...what she was.

He could make out a pair of tall ears so...a rabbit? Gregory couldn’t remember any animatronics other than Freddy, Chica, Monty and Roxanne, as well as Moondrop and Sunrise. Was this a new character?

But what kind of bunny would have such piercing red eyes?

“My name’s Vanny,” she greeted. “What’s yours?”

Feeling slightly relieved that she had finally let him go, he cautiously stepped out and looked around to make sure he was in the clear before turning to face her.

“...Gregory,” the boy timidly answered, still feeling a bit unnerved.

“What a swell name! It’s nice to meet’cha,” she said with a small bow, which unveiled a few more features like a bright blue bow tied around her neck, and an unnaturally wide toothy grin plastered on her patched face.

What’s more, she didn’t exactly move like a robot, despite sounding like one.

“Are you new?” Gregory asked, causing Vanny to tilt her head.

“Huh?”

“I’ve never seen you in the show before and...” he paused, knowing his words had already gotten him in trouble today.

“And what?” she prodded.

“Well...you don’t really look like an animatronic.”

“That’s because I’m not!”

Gregory flinched at her overly cheerful tone and stepped back as she kneeled down to his level.

“Can I let ya in on a little secret?” Vanny asked, cupping her hand to her mouth in a poorly disguised whisper.

“Sure...?”

“I wanna be in the show. Like, I really really wanna be in the show. That’s why I made this,” the rabbit gestured to herself in an overly dramatic way; caressing her ears and cupping her face. “But I gotta prove myself first.”

“Prove yourself?”

“Yup!”

Gregory raised an eyebrow when she didn’t elaborate further, but decided to put it to rest as he really wanted to get out before Rob and his goons came back.

“I know a shortcut outta here,” Vanny offered with a tilt of the head, as if reading his mind. “Just take a couple of rights and a left and you’ll be as right as rain! Want me to show you?”

“T-that’s okay, I should be good,” Gregory replied with a smile, though it slowly turned into a frown when she didn’t answer back, choosing instead to just...stare at him, her head still tilted, almost as if she were deep in thought.

“But...thanks anyway...?” he weakly offered.

This seemed to snap her out of her trance as she nodded vigorously.

“No problem! And don’t worry, if those bullies come back, I’ll give ‘em a dose of Moondrop’s sleepy candy. That oughta slow ‘em down!”

He had heard of that stuff, but couldn’t for the life of him understand why kids would want candy that would put them to sleep. Nevertheless, he nodded and thanked her again before turning, and hurrying away, a soft giggle echoing behind him.

xxx

“Where on earth have you been? It’s been thirty minutes!”

Gregory was still a little shaken up by the time he had reached the exit, so much so that he had forgotten that he had been on a time limit.

“Sorry, mom...” Gregory muttered sheepishly as she looked him over.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

Glancing back towards the arena, he tried to see if he could spot Rob’s gang still wandering about in there.

“Did you see a group of guys come out by any chance? Older than me. Kinda ugly...”

“Now you’re answering my question with a question,” his mother said with a sigh. “But no. Why? Did something happen?”

“No!” he blurted out, making her give him that look again. “We were just...having so much fun but then I uh...I lost them. Just wondering if they left without me or something.”

Her expression softened a little. He hated when she did that.

“No, sweetie...but I’m sure they won’t be far, should we go look for them?”

Gregory grabbed her hand and started pulling her away. “It’s fine! The show’ll be starting soon, right? We can’t miss it!”

“Okay, okay...!” she chuckled as he dragged her. “But first we need to hand your blaster in.”

He stopped then, inwardly cursing at himself before smiling sheepishly up at his mom as she narrowed her eyes at him.

“You lost it, didn’t you.”

Her tone suggested that it wasn’t a question.

“Yep.”

He yelped when she was suddenly the one dragging him away.

“Well, we best make ourselves scarce then, besides we can’t miss your big show, right?”

Gregory grinned. “Screw the rules?”

She smiled back. “Screw the rules.”

xxx

They had made it to the main stage before the show began, but there were already big crowds congregating near the front to get the best view, and Gregory was having none of it.

His mom kept apologizing to the angry faces and pointed looks as he towed her through the mass of people to get to the front, ignoring her when she grumbled about having to teach him some social skills.

Gregory drowned everything else in the auditorium out as his wide brown eyes focused on the stage, even trying to balance up on the tips of his toes to get any kind of glimpse of brown, green, pink or purple. He had waited so long for this moment, and nothing more mattered than the next hour.

Gregory wasn’t ashamed to admit that he squealed a little when the lights died down, it was just as well that every other kid in the auditorium screamed too, resulting in the kind of high-pitched noise that would make a banshee cringe.

“Hello ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls!” A mechanical voice greeted over the speakers. “Welcome to Freddy Fazbear’s Mega Pizza Plex! Are you all having a fantabulous time?”

The crowds erupted once more.

“Rockin’!” Gregory gasped as a rough female voice took over. "Y’all ready to get your glam on?!”

“Oh Roxanne...” a more feminine tone scolded. “Now you’ve given us away. Again.”

Gregory’s smile grew wider, he knew this whole skit, next up would be-

"I think we’ve kept ‘em waiting long enough, gals,” a graveled voice boomed out from the speakers. "Whaddya say, Freddy? Should we give the kids what they want?”

The little boy almost couldn’t contain himself at this point.

“I say let’s rock out!”

The curtains suddenly swung open to reveal the animatronics in all their shiny, glittering glory.

They were all 80’s themed, of course, to fit in with the aesthetic of the mall. Glamrock Chica had the typical pink leotard with green leopard print leg warmers; very popular with the girls. Roxanne Wolf was more unconventional with a striking red outfit, piercings and the mascot for the mall’s race course; she appealed to quite a wide range of people. Montgomery Gator was more for the chads as he had a rough and tough attitude with a love of golf, but Gregory did admire his red mohawk and star-shaped shades.

Then there was Glamrock Freddy. The mascot of the Pizza Plex. He didn’t really have a gimmick as such but was incredibly popular just for how great he was with the children. The other animatronics were good with kids but Freddy was the one who seemed to pay the most attention to them, whether it be sitting down and listening to a kid’s story, accepting gifts from them to even giving them gifts of his own free will – mostly a plushie of himself.

Management were irked by this odd behavior at first but when they saw how much cash he was raking in from meet and greets alone, they decided to leave it. Why fix it if it ain’t broke, right?

As they burst into their first song, with Freddy singing into his mic stand and the other three playing keytars, Gregory didn’t even notice when his mother shook his shoulder and told him that she would have to take a phone call but would be back as soon as she could. There were some instructions on where to meet if she didn’t make it back by the time the show was finished but the words fell on deaf ears as he bounced and sang along to the lyrics he had spent so painstakingly long to learn.

By the fourth or fifth song, the crowds had started to dissipate as parents took their children away to browse some more shops or to go to the food court for lunch, but Gregory stayed until the very end, cheering and whooping when the animatronics did their final encore and bowed as the curtains were drawn to a close.

Fearing his chest might explode from excitement, the boy took a few moments to breathe as he tried to calm down from the buzz of electricity that was jolting through his body. The past hour had gone and went so fast that he could hardly process any of it, all he knew was that it had been the happiest moment of his life.

With a huge grin, he watched as the robots were escorted off stage by staff and taken to their individual show rooms for their meet and greet sessions. Lines were already starting to grow long.

It was only then that Gregory realized that his mother was gone. He looked around with a frown, she had said something about a phone call but...that had been half an hour ago now.

‘She must be waiting at the show room for me,’ Gregory concluded, beaming at the thought of finally meeting his hero in the flesh. Or...plastic.

Shaking his head, he made a beeline past Chica’s room, where mostly little kids were sitting on the floor watching the animatronic as she played them a song while others had started a food fight with the leftover pizza and soda cans that had been lying around the room, making the parents and staff grimace as they tried to break it up.

Monty’s room was a little more organized and catered more towards older children as the gator showed them how to get a hole in one with a little golf stand while others played on the arcade machine. This reminded Gregory that the golf course was next on his list.

Roxanne’s room was very high energy as the wolf raced around with the other kids with driving wheels in their hands while making engine noises. Though when one tripped up, she immediately halted and gently picked the child up, reassuring him that “Even the most rockin’ superstars get hurt sometimes!” and carried him into the back area to where the medical staff resided with a worried mother in tow.

Stopping to catch his breath, Gregory finally made it to Freddy’s room, gaping slightly when he saw the queue nearly reaching the end of the walkway. He couldn’t even see inside due to the mass of people gathered at the curtains, forcing him to back up a bit and climb up on a bench just to be able to get a look in.

The room was painted red and blue to fit in with Freddy’s color scheme and decorated with bright lightning bolts and portraits of the bear himself. It was also the least cluttered as there were only a few bowling bowls, party hats and – of course – plenty of plushies to give away. But what caught Gregory’s eyes were the assortment of colorful drawings that had been halfhazardly pinned to the wall next to the make-up mirror.

It was true then; he really did collect kids' drawings!

Reaching into his own back-pocket, Gregory pulled out a crumpled piece of paper and opened it up, smiling a little when he looked upon his own masterpiece. All the animatronics were singing on a stage on top of the whole world, with Freddy towering over them wearing a crown and rainbow cape because why not?

It had taken him hours and an absurd number of crayons that he had ‘taken’ from his classroom, so a selfish part of him hoped that Freddy would pin it above the rest.

A flurry of movement in the crowd suddenly caught Gregory’s attention as the stewards moved them aside to let the animatronic move in. He felt himself get giddy when the bear greeted everyone and gave them a sign of the horns with his clawed hand, to which all the kids mimicked, including Gregory from all the way in the back.

As the queue started to move along, Gregory couldn’t help but start to feel impatient. Where was his mom? He thought she knew how important this was to him.

Forgiveness was suddenly starting to come in very short supply.

With a cross of the arms and a small pout, he watched as Glamrock Freddy took photographs, played with kids and even recognized a regular and accepted a drawing from her, praising her for becoming more talented every day.

Gregory’s chest tightened up a little at that.

Frowning down at his own scribbles, he didn’t even notice the tall figure hiding behind the golden statue of Roxanne that was trying to get his attention.

“Hey...! Hey Gregory!” A familiar voice hissed.

Startled, he turned to see that tall rabbit lady from earlier waving and beckoning him over. Blinking, he took a moment to look around to see if anybody else had seen her, half-wondering if she was some kind of hallucination at this point. When she beckoned again, he tentatively walked over.

Once again, she was hidden in the shadows, but the overhead lights made it a little easier to see more details of the suit, like the stitches that barely held the mismatched creams and beiges together along with a few patches of crosshatched red. It was like the whole thing had just been thrown together.

“Uh...hey...”

It took him a moment.

“Vanny?”

She gasped and gleefully put her hands up to her grinning mouth.

“You remembered!”

He forced a grin, trying to ignore the bristling hairs on the back of his neck.

“Sure.”

She paused and knelt down.

“What’s wrong? You look a bit down.”

This caught him by surprise.

“Huh? No, I’m fine. Just...waiting.”

Glancing back, he could see the crowds starting to dwindle as time went on, but still no sign of his mother.

“Ooh! What’s that?”

He looked down to where she was pointing and held up the piece of paper that he had been clutching a little too hard.

“It’s...um...just a drawing I made...for...Freddy,” he meekly replied, his cheeks heating up.

“Oh wow! Can I see?”

The very question he was afraid of. But she was already holding out her hand, so he couldn’t just say no.

She seemed to study it very closely when Gregory handed it over. He started to wonder if she was having to squint through the costume’s red eyes just to be able to see it.

“This is so good, Gregory!” She gushed, holding it up as if to show it off to everybody else in the mall. “You’re super talented! Are you gonna be an artist when you grow up?”

He looked down in embarrassment but couldn’t help but smile at the compliment. Despite how weird this lady was, she actually seemed pretty nice.

“Um...I dunno. I like drawing so...maybe.”

“You should definitely show it to Freddy, I bet he’d love it!”

Gregory perked up at that, but frowned again as he looked back over to the show room.

“I want to but I can’t yet.”

“Why not?” Vanny asked. “Ya nervous?”

That was true but he wasn’t about to admit it.

“My mom has the ticket for the meet and greet but...she had to take some kinda phone call and hasn’t come back yet.”

“Hasn’t...come back,” she repeated.

As Gregory watched kids and parents come and go, he hadn’t noticed that Vanny was staring right at him until the silence between them grew uncomfortably long. But as he turned back to look at her, she stood up and offered her hand.

“I know a way you can give it to him.”

A little perturbed by her sudden shift in tone; he looked at her hand but didn’t take it.

“Uh...how?”

“The VIP room, silly!” She said, her chirpy voice returning once more. “You know that one up at Fazer Tag? I saw you looking at it earlier.”

The one that was high up, he remembered. But... had she been watching him that whole time?

“That’s where Freddy and the others go for the secret meet and greets, where they give you their undivided attention.”

Gregory raised an eyebrow.

“I... didn’t even know that was a thing.”

“That’s cuz it’s secret!”

Okay, well that made sense.

“Usually only the rich kids get to go there but I think you’re much more deserving, Gregory,” she said, holding out her hand once again. “You only get today, right?”

The boy looked over once more. Freddy was waving goodbye to the last of the children as the stewards drew the curtains. He had missed his chance.

He looked back up at Vanny.

“What about my mom?”

The rabbit tilted her head. “I’ll notify the staff so they can let her know, then she’ll come pick you up when you’re ready, okay?”

There was a moment of hesitation but he knew she was right. He only had today and nothing was going to stop him from getting what he wanted.

Screw the rules.

With a nod, Gregory took her hand and let her lead him away to the Fazer Tag arena, not noticing that his drawing had slipped from her grip and she had let it fall into a crumpled ball as they walked away.

xxx

So let me know what y’all think! Would you like to see a part 2? :D

Edit: Part 2 is now available here!

#fnaf security breach #fnaf #five nights at freddy's #fnaf gregory #fnaf vanny #glamrock freddy #glamrock chica #roxanne wolf #montgomery gator #fanfiction #my writing #fnaf sb

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girlmaster132 · 3 years

Text

(Yan)Childe x Reader: Remember Me?

This is like my first in this app please bare with me lmao.

Rated: Mature Words: 3.1k Warning: Kidnapping, Name Calling, Bullying.

Second-Person POV:

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

You wince as you pick up the burnt food on the ground. You accidentally poured in too much oil and you threw the fish away. This was a simple Grilled-Tiger Fish yet you can't even do it. How clumsy are you? You picked up the failed meal and threw it in the trash. You sigh as you shook your head and went to the table to eat one of the fruits on the table.

You moved to the window and opened it. The sun shined bright, the sounds of people enticing customers to their stalls can be heard up to your house. Liyue Harbor is such a calm and relaxing place. Well, as long as you don't evade tax that is.

It's been years since you've lived in Liyue, in contrast to most people here who have a specialty in cooking. You only ever bought food here. You took a bite into the apple and got ready for the day.

You leave your house and walk down the stairs. Opening the door you're met with the friendly people of Liyue.

"Goodmorning Y/N off to work?" You turn around and see Ganyu walking towards you.

"Yes Ms. Ganyu, it's the last day before a week's break. I decided to get there earlier so I can get all my work done. I hate going on the weekends. Also, it's rare to see you out of your workplace, what brings you here?" You say. Ganyu giggles and pats you on the back.

"Well, I have some important business to do. Don't waste time and off to work you go! Can't miss any seconds, time is gold!"

You smile at Ganyu and continue your stroll to the outskirts of Liyue. You pass children playing with their kites, tag, and some even roleplayed as the Millelith. The vendors yell as they advertise their product in any way they can. You reached the bridge and continued your way to the statue of the seven.

You bow down to the statue of Rex Lapis. He was such a different god from the previous one you had. Reaching the building of your office, you fixed your clothing and walked proudly. Opening the door and walking, Something felt off. There would usually be people welcoming you inside. The room should have open lights and a warm temperature. Instead, the building was dark, and it's eerily quiet. You sharply inhale.

"Guys? Where are you?" You shouted as you searched each room you pass through. Was it a holiday and you accidentally went to work? But Ganyu would've told you earlier.

The moment you arrived at the secluded area, you felt a hand with a handkerchief pressed over your mouth. You look back and attempt to punch them. Your heart beats rapidly and you squirm. More men appear and one of them punches you hard in the stomach. You fall to your knees as they hold you down and suffocate you. Black spots forming in your eyes as the world around you is rapidly fading quickly.

"Is this one of the people on the list?"

"Yeah, he's the last one." The man says.

You try to struggle one last time as you close your eyes and drift to sleep. You squirm, punch, do anything. You struggle.

And struggle, and struggle.

And for the last time, you—

...

Struggle.

You were being held down by Alek. He has always done this to you for as long as you can remember. Your face smeared across the snowy floor. It was cold and freezing, why is your life like this?

"Y/N! I thought you wanted to be in the military!" He laughed, "Is it because your father is so poor he'd sacrifice you anytime to get money!"

You sob and try to push yourself up, but Alek steps at your back. Leo, your other tormentor kicks you in the face, "How about your mom? Is she selling herself again to earn money? What a whore!"

"My... Mom's not a whore..." You whimpered as the two boys made fun of you more. Blood trickles down your nose, you have a black eye and a broken self-esteem.

"Hey!" A familiar voice shouted. He aimed his arrow and shot it right beside you threatening the two other kids. Your eyes light up and you see your best friend Ajax. He slides down the snow hill and directs the bow at the two boys. "Let him go! Or I will shoot."

The two boys stare at Ajax. "And who might you be? We haven't met you before."

"Someone that will kick your ass and make you fear my name." The two looked at each other and laughed. They glance back at you and Leo picks you up. Ajax glare would be enough to kill these two. Without warning rushes at them. He raises his fist and punches Alek right in the nose. Leo drops you roughly into the ground and before he could do anything, Ajax swings his bow at him and uppercuts him in the jaw.

Your eyes light up as you watch Ajax beating them up a bit too hard. He strikes them with his bow without mercy. "Don't you fucking dare, return to this village. You got me!"

"Ajax..." You call out, he stops and faces you. "I think they had enough." He shoves Leo into a tree and approaches you. The two boys ran away with fear. He crouches and touches your face.

"Ajax, thanks for saving me again." You breathe out. He hugs you and lifts you. "Hey! This is embarrassing!" You hide your face and he bursts out laughing.

"You can barely even stand, don't get shy of a friend helping you out." He carries you and runs you back to his place. The wind was a gentle breeze you blush slightly as he passes through the village. He sits you on the porch and opens the door.

"Wait, is anyone home? I might disturb them,"

"Nonsense!" He pulls you into a room and opens the lights. "Stay here, I'll get something for that black eye and a broken nose." He rushes into a room. You hum and wait, he returns with an entire medkit.

"You don't have to, that's a waste of supplies. I thought you were just going to give me a cold compress—"

"Here have some of this, your nose is bleeding," He ignores your complaints and brings you a cloth. "Now for that eye," He takes out a cold compress and gives it to your other hand. You apply it to your eye as you wipe your face off the blood. He happily sits beside you.

"I wish I can be like you, strong, powerful, and brave. Do you ever wish to be part of the military?"

"Nah, I don't think I'll ever join the military soon. I like to fight but you're more fit for that."

"You're just wasting your time, thanks for being my sparring partner and the person that always saves me but..." You trail off.

"But what?"

"I'm someone you can leave behind. I'm the one getting prepared to become a soldier but I can't even fight those two. You don't even get training yet you're better than me. I bet you're just doing this because you don't want to hurt my feelings."

"Y/N don't think about that!" Ajax smiles, "I enjoy your company! Even if you win or lose as long as you learn with me I am fine with that!" your face heats up and you look down at the floor.

"That's sweet of you to say..." You whisper.

Silence.

His demeanor changes, "Y/N I've always wanted to tell you something, I've—"

The door opens, "Y/N I knew you'd be here. Your father is calling you, he orders you to go home now," He walks towards you, "Yeesh, what happened to you kid?"

"Oh just Alek and Leo doing their thing again... Your son saved me again sir! He's such a nice friend," You compliment. "I'm sorry I used some of your medical supplies."

"It's okay boy, I don't mind. No hurry, your father needs you."

"See you Ajax and thank you so much for helping me!" You bow down and run outside, waving goodbye.

...

You walk through the snow and trees. You arrive home and see a carriage and a ton of boxes everywhere. "What's this all about?"

"We're leaving, pack your things before afternoon." You stand there in shock. Leaving? To where?

"W-what! Father, why do we have to leave again? Where are we even going? Aren't we fine? You say if I trained and got in the military we'd be safe. W-why?" You stuttered. Looking at your father who's hastily fixing the bags. He grabs your shoulders.

"Liyue, we have the biggest chance of surviving there. We can't pay off our debt anymore, they'd kill us!" He yells at your face, making you shake in fear.

"B-but where's mom? And Ajax— I still haven't said my goodbyes to him." He grabs your hand and pulls you roughly.

"Your mom won't be returning any time soon, we have to hurry. And as for Ajax, I told him about the two of us leaving for Liyue. You're not good enough, look at you. Whenever you get back here you get beaten up by such a useless piece of shit. There's no time so get your goddamn stuff and let's leave this hell hole!" He pushes you and his words echoed through your mind. You wipe a tear threatening to fall down your face.

You pack all your clothes and whatever you can hoard in a box. You throw it in the carriage and your father commands you to get in. You are sad, at the sudden change.

"Hey! Wait up!" Ajax shouts. You see him out of breath, his eyes full of worry.

"It's best if you don't follow us..." You say. Your eyelids get heavy and hide your face. You look back once more to see Ajax chasing you with full speed. Your father grunts and whips the horse to go faster. You watch as he fails to match the speed.

"Wait, Y/N! Don't leave me please!"

And that was the last you've heard of your best friend.

...

The room is silent and uncanny. You squirm around and freedom has no avail. Your eyes are covered and your hands are tied. You start to panic and hyperventilate.

"Looks like the last one woke up," you hear a voice.

"Are these the hostages?"

"Yes, we're just waiting for the boss to return," says the other. Footsteps were circling the room. You feel like you're about to vomit. Your insides churn at the fact that you're kidnapped by other people in the room.

"This one seems to be eager for a beating!" The agent jokes. The blindfold tightly wrapped around your face stops you from absorbing info about the matter. Your hair gets roughly pulled and you gasp. They laugh at your attempt to escape from them. You hear the door creak open.

"Well hello there, you did a great job you two, now would you mind if you avoid touching the hostages?"

"Yes sir!" And with that, the two men drop you down. The newcomer arrives and clears his throat.

"All of you calm down. We're waiting for your greedy scum of a boss to pick you up from here in about an hour. There are 6 people in here, If he arrives early and pays, we'll set you free. If he doesn't," You hear him chuckle. "Every 10 minutes wasted I will pick one of you and make sure none of you get out of here without a broken bone or two. So hopefully he responds and gives the money he owes us. Just hope this boss of yours is kind."

Time ticks the sounds of your co-workers begging for freedom gets hushed by threats and punches.

10 minutes had passed.

"Looks like one of you is lucky," You hear a loud slap and a person groan. You witness your co-worker get beaten up. You flinch every time he begs for mercy. You hid in the corner of the room, hoping to dear god your boss would arrive now. You didn't even know nor want to do anything about this debt they were talking about. With one last punch, you hear a thud, ending one's suffering.

You try to calm yourself down but you can't stop it. You huff and puff loudly, sweating bullets, stomach-churning, dying from the anticipation. All of these give all the attention to you.

Another 10 minutes passed, it didn't even feel like it. Time was ticking too fast you've lost all hope of getting out of here.

"Sheesh, that old geezer really does not care about you folks does he? Now, who should the lucky winner be?" His steps got louder and you know he's going to hurt you. He grabs your hair and pulls your blindfold and throws it. He raises his fist ready to strike. "Now you little-"

"Ajax? Is that you?" You asked, blinking to clear the light. He's taller and has a Fatui mask on his face. He still looks as handsome as you remember. He halts and stammers.

"H-how do you know about that? Are you one of Liyue's spies? Or are you an eavesdropper that knows too much?" He studies you before saying, "Keep an eye on the other 5, I have to deal with this one." You gulp as he harshly tugs your arm. He drags you into the room beside and throws you into the wall. Your heart sinks, whatever happened to your best friend? You feel the tears swell up in your eyes as sadness overtakes you.

"A-ajax don't you remember me?"

"As far as I can remember, I don't know anyone that's part of an organization that borrowed money from us. I only know your boss, and his subordinates are going to get a good beating if he doesn't arrive with the money."

You stare at his eyes, it's devoid of the sparkling light of hope and kindness. It's empty and dark, soulless and heartless. You gulp and a tear escapes out of your eye.

"I'm a coward..."

"Save the tears and sad story for later. I'll get back to you after your boss returns." He rolls his eyes and scoffs. He stands up and he quickly walks to the door.

"I'M A COWARD THAT LEFT THE MILITARY AND YOU ALONE!" You shout as you reach your hand up to him. "I was never fit to become a soldier! And I made you suffer!" You sat down and tears streamed down your face.

Childe stops walking and looks back at you. His eyes widened and his mouth agape.

"Y/N? How're you— alive? My father told me you were taken away and you... died...."

"W-what? My father said that he informed you about the two of us leaving Snezhnaya to hide in Liyue. We couldn't pay off our debt, and mom never returned the same day you rescued me from those two asshats."

His eyes softened like every memory of you two together came crashing to him. A small smile appeared on his face as he approached you slowly. Each step he takes, you take one back.

"I'm sorry I- just hurt me..." His hand reaches for your face and he looks directly into your eyes. He leans in and you feel his soft lips touch with yours. The moment was bliss, you close your eyes and hold onto him. You breathe in sharply as he pulls out. He wipes away your tears and lets out a laugh.

"I can't believe you're alive Y/N. I missed you, and you aren't a coward," he says. Your stomach somersaults and you hug him. "Now, let's get to it." You look up to him and then A sudden sharp pain surges and paralyzes you. A knife digs into your abdomen. You widen your eyes and more tears stream down your face.

"A-Ajax?" You whimper and your body numbs. Your legs weaken and Childe catches you. He chuckles as he runs his hand through your hair. You cough out blood and he whispers into your ear.

"Shh... it will be okay. Y/N just relax, you'll be fine with me. Just sleep, we'll talk in a bit."

...

You flutter your eyes. Everything was so blurry, your body is ready to fall apart from exhaustion. The pain of your best friend betraying you loomed and haunted your thoughts. You sluggishly move and the pain shoots through your stomach. You wince and attempt to cover it. You realize something is attached to your wrists. You move your hand and hear the clanks of chains. You dart in that direction and see that both of them were chained in the wall. The room is pitch black.

Your heart races and you panic. You struggle but your efforts are futile. Something heavy was weighing you down. You look down to your feet to see chains shackled on your ankles.

Your breathing gets erratic, and adrenaline rushes through you. The sounds of footsteps came near and you waited for the danger. The door loudly opens and you see Childe enter.

"You're finally awake! Took you long enough, I know you don't like to keep friends waiting," He exclaims while crouching down to your level.

"Where am I? Ajax why the fuck am I chained?"

"You'll never be able to leave me anymore. We're going to be together just like before! Aren't you excited! We have so much to catch up to, after you left I thought you died! So I chased after you and fell to the abyss—"

"Abyss?! Is that why you've cracked your head and went mad!" His grin widens and he giggles.

"You've always been funny Y/N I've loved your jokes. The abyss was such a fun place. I always thought that if you weren't in this world anymore, you'd be there! But foolish little ol' me remembered you are an angel, they don't fall into the abyss. They fly up into the sky," He rambles with a twisted smile on his face. You raise your brow, scared for dear life.

"This isn't right Ajax! Y-you fell into the abyss?! What happened to you! Why are you doing this to me? Let me go!" You yell. His face drops and he laughs maniacally. He comes closer and rubs your shoulders. His hand runs down to your chest. He licks his lips and stares at your eyes, piercing through your soul.

"We're going to have some fun."

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Author's Note: I swear to God idk what I just wrote ;-;

If you enjoy whatever the hell I wrote you can follow me on WP too!

https://www.wattpad.com/story/264619512-genshin-impact-oneshots-x-readers-x-characters

#Childe #genshin impact #genshinimpact #genshin_impact #childe x reader #genshin x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #genshin x you #yandere

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moonlights-inkwell · 4 years

Text

Demand an Encore

Jaskier x Reader

Word Count: 6,958

Summary: anon said: hello! i see your requests are open...! could i maybe get a Jaskier x reader where the reader very shyly explains (maybe after an embarrassing moment?) that they are into spanking? and Jaskier indulges them and it is fluffy/smutty? if not, that's okay!! i figured I'd ask. thank you! 💜

A/N: Anon. I literally owe you my life, because Dom! Jaskier now literally lives rent free in my head. A fic from Jaskier's perspective? It shocked me too. Oops. Also. Clapping joke title on a spanking fic? I think I’m way funnier than I am

Warnings: Smut. Spanking. Oral (female receiving). Clothed sex? Sorta. Discussions of Sadomasochism. Canon complicit violence. A very bad take on Jaskier's perspective.

Title from Wild Blue Yonder

“Oh wank!”

The expletive draws his eyes from his lute and upwards, to you.

You’re busy, always busy, swinging that blade about and clashing it noisily into Geralt's. Parry, swipe, dodge, sword fighting is as boring a sport as Jaskier can even imagine, only marginally better than fencing because at least there’s some danger to sword fighting. Paint drying is a more interesting thing to watch, lectures less painful to listen to. Jaskier hates it. Sparring holds no interest to Jaskier, beyond when he tries to describe how sword fighting looks for a new song, but there are no new songs. The monsters have seemingly realised that Geralt is about, and have kept themselves to themselves, and so the well of songs about danger and adventure has dried up- like a brook during a heatwave. There’s no song about battles to be won, and if he plays Toss A Coin once more then he’s quite sure that Geralt will shove his lute up his arse sideways. All he wants is to work on a new melody and the clanging is quite possibly the worst thing he can imagine. The clanging, clanking, crashing of steel on steel is enough to drive him to distraction. All he needs is a new song, but no. He simply must be tormented by the sound of metal hitting metal. Needs must apparently, at least when it comes to sparring.

He’s sure Geralt is doing this to spite him specifically. Revenge for years upon years of songs and mindless chatter and taunting, wrapped up with the knowledge that the bard would never complain about your training- that your safety is paramount to him, even if it is noisy as all hell and infuriatingly distracting.

Cornflower blue eyes scan up and take you in, on hands and knees and holding your sword at such an angle to block Geralt’s swipe; face crumpled with effort and concentration while the Witcher above is as stoic looking as ever, bringing his blade down closer and closer until you slide to the ground and roll away from the sword. The buckles of your over-bust drags against the ground and knocks loose two of the buttons of your blouse, revealing an expanse of skin below the clavicle and to the dip in skin between breasts.

He wonders, not for the first time, how you manage to fight in a corset. When he was a lad, a little longer ago now than he’s quite happy to acknowledge, how a girl at a ball had collapsed because her corset was laced too tight and even after fetching a healer, the girl walked awkwardly until he left for Oxenfurt, probably long afterwards too. Yet, you can fight in one, swing that blade around with a relative ease that Jaskier can’t even manage if his trousers are tailored too high in the crotch. It’s strange. Watching you duck and twist, bend and thrust that blade around all while being held in place by tightly laced bones, it’s impressive- like watching someone dance. You aren’t a master swords-man but you’re skilled and it’s nice to watch. The exhilarated grin across your face, panting with heaving chest: it’s beauty. Pure, unadulterated beauty, even with a smear of dirt across your cheek, sweat beading about your forehead and a nick on your arm that’s letting out a small but steady stream of blood trickling down from your upper arm.

“Better.” Geralt says firmly, Jaskier watches as your face breaks into a grin and you just glow. A relaxed, genuine smile that makes you look younger than you are. You've mocked him before for how he just soaks up any validation, but even the slightest praise has your skin all but shining, cheeks flushed and mouth upturned. He understands entirely. Praise, acclaim, acknowledgement, it’s addictive; more so than any ale, any drug. Praise leaves you desperate for more, shaking and craving a next hit, almost insecurely hoping against hope that any second will bring that much needed praise. Bard's are like faeries, they require attention to survive while thriving on the energy people give, And Jaskier has been desperate for attention long before he became a bard.

Praise from the Witcher is a seldom given gift- one that Jaskier doesn’t think he’s ever been given- but he praises you. Training is important, and Geralt seems to have realised that he’ll catch more flies with honey than vinegar, so sparring is when he speaks most, even then it’s minimal though; but he compliments. Your form, your grip, the strength of blows. Praise from the Witcher is a seldom given thing.

Jaskier isn’t jealous.

He isn’t.

Jealousy implies that there’s something to be envied, like a possession that he wants. You aren’t a possession, he knows that, and even if you were, you wouldn’t be Geralt’s. His fingers fall from the frets of the lute, sending a sour note that makes him cringe out through the clearing.

“Gods, Dandy- if that’s a sign of what your new song sounds like then I don’t think I want to hear it!” You call over to him, head tilted as the sword twirls between your fingers. “I thought you were supposed to be a good bard.”

“You wound me, Love. Wound me.”

“No good bard would write Toss A Coin.” Geralt says, but there’s humour in his voice- well, humour enough for it to be noticeable against Geralt’s signature style of stoicism. Must be a good sort of day, for Geralt to be joking about and complimentary. These sorts of things don’t happen every day.

“Leave him be, Bully!” You swat at Geralt's side, grinning at Jaskier. “Don't you worry, Dear Heart, I love you- even with this brute insulting you.” It’s as if you don’t even remember that you started the insults, but that smile is enough to keep him quiet. That must be a sign of love, that Jaskier could be quiet for you: he’s never been silent for anyone before, even when he had himself half-convinced that he was in love with every person he's spent more than a night with, he’s never been able to keep quiet for more than a few minutes or so, he’s felt an overwhelming need to fill the silence. It’s pleasant to just bask in atmosphere that comes from being about you.

The swat at Geralt had not gone unnoticed, even if it took a moment or so for him to strike you. Geralt, facing Jaskier, lifted a hand to thump you on the back, too absorbed by the simple pleasure of retaliation to have perceived two very simple things with those enhanced Witcher senses: that the laces of your boots have come undone, and that you had bent down to tie it.

Time slows sickeningly, as Jaskier realises what’s about to happen only a second before the SLAP comes through the air at a volume none of you anticipated. Not to the lower back, a spot that while painful is little more than inconvenient when hit, but instead to your arse- angled upwards as you bent to fiddle with the ribbons of your shoes. The white-haired man had wanted something vaguely friendly but still running with undercurrents of the same energy that comes from sparring, but instead he had brought one enormous hand down onto your arse with some force. Unexpected, and completely out of nowhere as it is, it somehow is not the most surprising part.

The moan is.

A loud, broken moan- somewhere between pain and pleasure- which Jaskier knows all too well. That sound haunts his dreams. Jaskier would know it blind, dumb and senseless. Your moan, normally reserved for during the nights when his fingers slide inside of you, when his tongue breeches you. It’s weak, beautiful, and oh so very unexpected. Its a noise more beautiful than music, more beautiful than the sound of children’s laughter- always his , finally heard by another. Geralt looks horrified, cat-like eyes wide and filled with something akin to fear, but nothing like the unadulterated horror written across your face; sun-coloured skin turning red with embarrassment, lips parted wide but slowly contorting into a grimace, eyes wide but watering.

Jaskier forces himself up and towards you, while Geralt steps back, saying your name softly and apologetically,

“I am so sorry-"

“Little Miss-"

“I'm going to the stream to wash!” You say loudly, side-stepping around Jaskier to make a beeline into the thicket of trees, where a stream was hidden. Without any thought, Jaskier groans and looks up at the Witcher, eyes narrowed into accusatory slits.

“So much for those Witcher senses of yours.” It’s a ridiculous thing to be annoyed about. Geralt does not have any feelings for you beyond the platonic, and Jaskier knows that, knows full well that Geralt wouldn’t do something like that to you, least of all in front of your lover and a man far too willing to write humiliating songs about Geralt.

“It was an accident.” All stoicism has returned to Geralt’s voice, despite the still apologetic look written across his features. “She’s going to hate me. She sounded so pained.”

That almost made the Bard splutter with laughter. Moans like that are many things but not pained, at least not in a way that isn’t seen as pleasurable. Somehow, he manages to keep the laughter down and instead claps a hand to the taller man's shoulder.

“I doubt she hates you. Missy is a resilient little thing.” He tries to sound comforting, but some humour seeps through, making Geralt turn and squint at him.

“This isnt funny, Bard.”

“I’m well aware.” Jaskier nods. “I'm going to check on her though. To make sure she hasn’t drowned herself.”

“Don’t joke.”

“I’m not.” He trills as he walks along the step-worn path to the trees.

The stream is a pathetic little thing really, barely a foot in width and surrounded on all sides by the thickest section of trees which almost blocked out all light. It was easy to believe it was around dusk, but it couldn’t be much later than midday, the shade made it appear so much later than it was. And there was you, hunched over by the reeds and moss, scooping up water and splashing it in your face and onto the gash still trickling blood to try to clean it. Even in spite of the shadows, your flushed cheeks are still clear to him and he stops to take you in.

He’s had many lovers. Too many to list really, but not one of them holds a candle to you. Every girl before you was perfectly primped and polished, in fine clothes with perfect hair and made up faces, and they were beautiful but artificially so. Made that way by clothes and corsets and cosmetics. You though, you’re something else. Beautiful with the sun in your eyes, unkempt hair and rumpled clothes. Indescribably perfect cast half in fire-light, with bags beneath your eyes and blood across your cheek. Sonnet worthy while drunk and stumbling, singing out of tune to his ever songs. Godly in the dark, mouth open and back arching towards him as you stumble headfirst into climax. He loves you. He loves you, and it’s the first time he thinks he has ever really loved anyone: more than infatuation, more than lust, but actual love. Love that makes his head muddled and heart sore. He doesn’t deserve you. Wants you, needs you, but will never deserve you. Reckless, wild and brilliant you, willing to leave a life behind to fight monsters. A fool. Beautiful little fool, selfless and-

“I can feel you staring at me.”

“Hard not to stare at a goddess. Careful, I hear some gods will drown pretty things like you out of jealousy.”

“Fool.” You say softly, but there’s a chuckle in your voice so he comes closer to you, stepping behind you to twist your hair away from your throat to press a kiss to the crook of your neck.

“Your fool.” He breathes out shallowly, letting his chin rest on your shoulder while his arms wind about your waist. “Are you alright, Dear Heart?”

“Embarrassed, I suppose. My pride will recover though, Dandy.” The lightness of your words combined with your stiff posture makes sure Jaskier knows you’re lying.

“Little Miss-"

“Geralt must be embarrassed as well. I should have apologised to him before-"

“You moaned.” He cuts you off, making you shut up, stiffening even more. “And you may try to deny it, but I know that noise. I might just be the only person who knows that noise.”

“Jaskier.” It sounds like a warning, but he doesn’t care.

“If it’s because it was Geralt, I understand.” He says softly, feelings coming out unbidden. “I understand, of course, and I love you but I understand if I’m in the way.”

“I liked it. Be... being hit. Not Geralt.” You whisper.

It truly is a day of surprises. Jaskier can feel the grin slip onto his face and his hands move from your stomach to your hips to begin tickling.

“Is that so?” He asks softly, revelling in your choked-out laughter and how you lean back against him. “My Little Miss wants to be spanked. Well, darling, you should have told me earlier.”

“I didn’t know it was a thing!” You argue between laughs. Jaskier so often forgets that you were a virgin before he got his hands on you, so of course you hadn’t known. His tickling doesn’t stop as he pulls you backward, rolling you onto the ground and climbing on top of you to continue his assault.

“Would you like a lesson in masochism, Dear Heart?” He teases, head tilting to the side as he looks down at you.

“Maso-what?”

“The pleasures of pain.” He explains, and watches how your face turns pink once more. “Oh, she does!”

“Stop taunting me!” You argue, thrashing beneath him but not with any intensity.

“Taunting? Never. I’m just trying to work out if I need to rent two rooms when we next go into town.” He too easily grabs at your arm when you reach up to swat at Jaskier. “For your lessons, I mean.”

“You... weren't joking?” You ask lightly and he shakes his head.

“I never joke about teaching My Muse about what brings her pleasure.” He says lightly, climbing off of you to sit by your side. “If you want me to.”

“You Wouldn’t mind?” You ask incredulously, drawing out a chuckle from the bard.

“Darling-heart, don’t be a fool, of course I wouldn’t. You know how I like pleasing you, and having you know what pleases you pleases me. Besides, it’s hardly my first dalliance into sadomasochism; there was a countess I used to know who couldn’t achieve orgasm unless tied up, with wax melted on her and at least three people watching her-"

“Jaskier.” You say softly, and he stops.

“Sorry. What I mean is, liking someone slapping your perfect bottom isn’t something to be embarrassed by, darling. Alright?”

“Alright. Thank you, Jaskier.”

“No need to thank me, Dear Heart.”

It takes weeks for Jaskier's plan to come to fruition. Weeks of traveling and camping in the woods until the three of you are able to find a town in need of a Witcher and his services. It’s a simple job, just a few drowners, but the pay is good and there is a very decent inn more than willing to accommodate all of you, and with two rooms none the less- which is far easier to negotiate while the two of you are off to do what you do. The inn-keep is a pleasant, portly man in his middle forties who seems to appreciate Jaskier's way with words, and is more than willing to forgo payment on the rooms in return for a show- and who is Jaskier to disagree with a deal such as that?

His friendly demeanour is welcome too, means the Bard actually has someone to talk to while he awaits your return- but that plan dies a death when the job takes significantly longer than he expects. Normally, it only takes a few hours for something like this, but the sun is set and his songs just coming to an end when you finally return.

The crowds, cider-drunk and rowdy had sang along to every song they knew, and sang over these they didn't- but that was fine. Drinking songs were always nice to hear, but their song dies when the door to the inn-cum-tavern opens and you pad in, followed closely by Geralt. Both drenched from tip to toe and scowling, hair stringy and clothes dark with saturation. That explains a fair bit and even with how upset you look, Jaskier grins, grip on the lute loosening and stage persona rolling off of him. Wet and angry as the two of you are, the sight of you is enough to make the crowd let out a loud, drunken cheer before beginning an enthusiastic if out of tune rendition of Toss a Coin. For once, the Bard is uninterested in joining in and instead opens his arms wide for you, it takes less than a minute for you to run to him and wind your arms around his middle while the people mill around Geralt to interrogate him about monsters and the like. Jaskier sighs and presses a kiss to your forehead.

“You had me worried.”

“Almost drowned. But I’m fine.” You say apologetically against his jerkin. “Tired though.”

“I’ve booked our room. And I think my performance is over.” He says soothing, fingers carding through your wet hair. “Come on, Darling-heart.” He offers a hand, though it takes you a moment or so to reluctantly pull back from him you take it and follow him up to your rented room.

The room is tiny, little more than a box room with just a bed and small table but it’s clean and that is more than enough for you. Before even a minute can pass, you release Jaskier's hand to flop down onto the bed, moaning when you sink down into the mattress.

“Comfortable?” He asks playfully and you hum in agreement.

“I got you wet.” You reply after a minute and Jaskier chuckles.

“I don’t mind, now wait here. I’ve something to sort out for you.” The door clicks as he slips out of the room and you’re alone in the room, just you and the tingling sensation running through your body and making your brain feel as if a mist has descended over it, yet you don’t even realise it until the door opens once more and you lift your head up to look at the noise. It’s a girl, looking about fourteen or so, carrying two large buckets to the archway across from the bed which you had not even noticed, and in your drunken haze you consider why she would be taking buckets to another room through yours. Jaskier follows after her, buckets hanging from each hand and you notice how steam is billowing from the buckets until he disappears beyond the doorway. Confusion comforts your mouth into a frown, so instead of giving it much thought you let yourself sink back into the mattress, deciding it not worthy of a second thought. Water crashing against water echoes from the other room as your eyelids grow heavy and slip shut. Someone had told you once that the sound of water is enough to drive even an insomniac to sleep, you believe them in this moment, the sound of water is so relaxing to your dazed mind that you don’t question why you can hear it at all, so you simply shut your eyes and listen. You have no idea how long you lay there, listening and breathing, it could be seconds or millennia.

“Are you awake, Dear Heart?”

“hmm?”

“Come on, I ordered you a bath, you need it.” A bath. You smile and he grins at you. “Now, darling. Come along. You'll soak the sheets through.”

“I'll soak you through.” You retort tiredly, rolling off of the bed and toeing off your boots before following him into the bath's room. He watches as you walk through and is upon you within seconds, unlacing your corset and unlacing your chemise before you can move your fingers to do it for yourself. “Julian, I know you find me attractive but stripping me?”

“I don’t want you dying of cold.” He chides playfully, kissing the exposed akin of your shoulder as he pulls off the blouse. “Forgive me for loving you.”

“I love you.” You say softly and untie your trousers, pulling them and your underwear off in a single movement. He smiles at the sight and presses a hand to your lower back once you step out of the sopping fabric.

“I know, muse. Now in.” He says encouraging you into the bath, turning to fiddle with a few vials of scented oils. “Rose, Lavender or honeysuckle?”

“Lavender. It smells like you.” You say softly and sink into the water, letting out a loud moan when the heat overtakes you. He turns back to you with a smile and pours a little of the oil into the water.

“Oh, you like the smell of me?” He teases and moves around towards you.

“Of course, I do.”

He smiles at that and sinks down to his knees behind the tub at your back and picks up a rag, soaking it in the water and then moving it up to rub at your shoulders and the knobbles of your spine. The sweet floral smell is carried on the steam coming from the water, sweet and familiar and made all the better by the contented noises that come from you. He likes you like this, all pliant and sleepy and willing to let him help without complaint, it makes him feel useful in ways he never can on hunts. You shoulder so much, act so brave and mature and it’s so nice to see you just let him take control and look after you. He hums a little tune as he washes your back and feels your back move as you chuckle.

“Tickles.” You say, giggly and more awake than before. “What song is that?”

“It’s something my mother used to sing.” He says gently, scooping up some water with his hands and pouring it over your head before working out some of the tangles in your hair. “I don’t think it has a name.”

“It’s pretty.” You hum, head tilting into his hands like a kitten. “Why aren’t you in here with me?”

“I got the bath to warm you up, Silly Little Miss. I’m warm.” He says with a sigh and pressing a kiss to the nape of your neck.

“I want to touch you." You whine, twisting around to face him.

“There's time for that later, Dear Heart. “ He shakes his head affectionately and kisses the tip of your nose. “I have plans for you tonight.”

“Oh?” You ask, leaning up on your knees and allowing your breasts to lean against the lip of the tub. It’s a trick, trying to lure him in, and he knows it, but gods above it’s tempting. Far too much willpower is exerted to not reach out and take them into his hands. A siren, sent to toy with his heart and mind. He sighs and leans in to kiss you gently.

“You remember a few weeks ago? When Geralt slap-"

“Yes!” You interrupt quickly and he rolls his eyes, reaching up to smooth your hair down.

“And you said you liked the feeling?”

“I remember, Jaskier.”

He smiles and rubs his thumb across your cupid’s bow.

“Well. We have the room to ourselves, so I thought that we could experiment with that."

You blink at him owlishly before squinting at him. It would almost be enough to worry him, but he knows you too well to think you’re angry- you’re confused, but still very relaxed.

“Experiment.”

“Yes.”

“With you... hitting me.”

“With you letting me dominate you, spank you, and make you feel good.” He clarifies. It sounds foolish, and far too perverse when laid out so candidly to someone not well versed with this. You nod sagely.

“...And if I ask you to stop them you will.”

“Of course I will.” He says seriously and rests his hands on your shoulders, leaning in so you are eye to eye. “This is for your enjoyment, if you say stop, this stops. Just like always.” You smile and close the gap between his lips and your own. It’s soft and lazy, with no indication of proceeding any further than just chastely kissing, his hands still on your shoulders and your hands creeping up into his hair. It’s perfect, always is, and not for the first time, Jaskier considers that he could spend the rest of forever just kissing you and never be bored. Still, all too soon he pulls away, fetching a towel while you heave yourself out of the tub waiting for the bard and the towel. Even though you reach for it, Jaskier ignores your outstretched arms and instead swaddles you in it himself, drying you.

“I can do it myself!”

“You can, but you won't.” He says firmly, rubbing your skin. Beneath the soft fabric, he can feel you start to struggle which makes him hum and swat at your arse. It’s not enough to hurt, especially through the towel, but it serves as a good warning for who is in charge tonight. Dominance is nothing new for him, but he isn’t dominant with you. You were a virgin when he met you, all sex had to be approached with kid-gloved hands, even now that you are confident with it Jaskier has never felt any need to try and guide you towards that sort of thing. Submission, he had assumed, would be a difficult thing for you; you spend so much time fighting and fending for yourself during fights, asking you to hand over control never seemed to be a good idea. Control keeps you safe but you trust him. Trust him enough to give him control. It’s enough to rush to his head, that level of trust. Of course, it’s flattering when anyone allows him control, but it means so much more when someone who loves him, someone who is so dangerous would allow themselves to be vulnerable. He loves you, has since the second he clapped eyes on you, but this is more than love now, this is adoration. “Now, be a good girl and don’t argue.” Seldom does Jaskier have a need to be stern, so you doing as he says is to be expected. You go limp, eyes wide as he towels you dry. “There’s my good Little Miss.” He says once he finishes, folding the cloth while you stand stock still, pupils blown wide.

“Good.” You repeat back to him, starry-eyed and blushing, so he presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth before nodding.

“Well, you are my Good Little Miss, aren’t you?” He asks gently, watching the enthusiastic nod he gets in response with a smile. “I know.” He says with an air of finality, turning away from you and heading back into the bedchambers to sit on the bed. It takes a few seconds of silent sitting for you to finally walk to the doorway. You’re naked as the day you were born, wet hair hanging in snakelike tendrils around your face, skin glowing gold from the warm light of the fire reflecting off of the still damp flesh. You’re beautiful. Too beautiful, comfortable in your skin and his looking at you, pale criss-crossing of scars running across the planes of your body like gold holding formerly broken ceramics together. How Jaskier has ever gotten a chance to lay his hands on you is beyond him, why a bard such as himself can even look at you, never mind touch or kiss you. A goddess, battle-hardened and wise, intoxicating and intense but oh so soft and kind.

“You’re staring.” You laugh, leaning against the door frame and smiling at him.

“Yes. Yes I am.” Jaskier says simply and beckons you closer, which you do with a slight swing of your hips that he is entirely sure isn’t purposeful. You settle beside him, looking at him with a look somewhere between reverence and fear- like he's simultaneously the most beautiful and awful thing you’ve ever seen. He hates how much he likes it, the power it feels like he possesses in this moment. You look so small and defenceless, and he is too aware of how large he is by comparison. Usually, Jaskier feels slight- especially in comparison to Geralt and his hulking mass of muscle and manliness- but he’s suddenly far more aware of how big his hands are compared to your own, how he almost dwarfs you in height. You aren’t dainty, and he knows how much damage you can do with little to no effort, but you look so now.

You lean in to him slowly and tilt your head, taking him in before smiling with a raised eyebrow. Well? Your face seems to scream. I'm waiting. It’s all the encouragement he needs to put his hand between your shoulder blades and push your torso over his lap unceremoniously. Every jutting bone, every knobble of spine, outline of rib exposed when you let out a noise of mild confusion, but rest there with your stomach over his thighs. His fingertips, calloused from lute strings but still soft from the warm water, trail down your back slowly; his skin is colder than yours, leaving goose pimples in his wake as he moves towards the rounded flesh of your arse.

Pink and pert, the flesh juts out from the dip at the base of your spine, like a peach. Jaskier loves it. Loves all arses really. There is something so strangely enticing about them, likely the fact they’re so often covered that seeing them seems taboo in a way that seeing tits isn’t. Every inch of your skin that he gets to see is a luxury not afforded to others, and while his hands finally reach the plump skin, he had been moving towards he kisses your back, gripping one cheek firmly while rubbing soft circles into the other. A moan, airy and musical comes from you spurring Jaskier in his ministrations: shifting the cheek to the side, revealing a hole he had never paid much mind to at all, only to release his hold and watch as it bounces back into place. The jiggle is hypnotic, he thinks to himself wordlessly as he repeats the act on the opposite cheek, earning another moan from you in response.

“Jask.” You whine out and he hums in confirmation, feeling you push yourself back against his hand. “Don't tease.” He chuckles. Teasing is hardly what he'd call it. No, this is isn’t teasing, teasing is something gentler than this. This is preparation. He can hardly just start spanking you, especially when you've never done it before, but the whining makes him smirk. “Jask, if you don’t hurry, I’ll go to bed.” You insist and try to push yourself off of him, so he presses down on the middle of your back and brings his hand down on your arse harshly.

The sharp sound of skin-on-skin rings through the air, followed by a gasp. A tingle ran across his palm, and he snicks at the sensation.

“I thought you were my good girl, not a brat, Missy.” He says, voice low and on the verge of a growl. “I told you, I am in control tonight. Not you.”

Brat. You shiver at that, going still, and he smirks, grabbing the cheek he had just struck before tugging at it. He releases it before sliding his hand up your thigh.

“I. I can be good.” You whisper meekly. That isn’t enough though and he swats at the cheek once more, lighter this time.

“You will be good.” He corrects you, leaning in close to your ear and catching sight of your red cheeks and misty eyes. “I know you will be, won’t you Darling?” You nod quickly and he smirks. “That's my Princess.”

At that, your posture loosens and you relax against him. Praise. That’s good to know. Lazily, he rubs a circle against the curve of skin before striking it once more.

“I'm going to hit you ten times, and I want you to count them out loud for me. Can you do that for me?” He asks gently and you nod instantly. “I need you to use your words, Darling.”

“I. I can do that.” You say, tilting your head to look at him with a sweet smile. Jaskier smiles back at you, then brings his hand back down with a hard slap.

“One!” You say loudly, jolting forward and dragging your stomach across his crotch. He’s been so invested in planning and preparing that he hasn’t even noticed the hardness developing between his legs until it’s rubbed against. The moans from the bath had been enough to make him half hard, but seeing you like this, lips parted and the skin of your bottom turning an inviting shade of pink, it’s enough to have him fully hard.

“Two!” You shout out after his hand lands hard against your rear before two more swats come in quick succession.

“Three! Four!” The numbers are more moans than words, loud and needy. In the back of his mind, Jaskier wonders if the drunks downstairs are still singing and making noise, shouting and swearing, or if they too can hear the moans of pleasure. It’s sick, but he wants them to hear. Wants them to hear the pretty song that you’re moaning out, to look at you in the morning as you shift uncomfortably in your seat and know how you loved every second of it, see him smirk and know exactly who drew every noise from you.

He’s a bard. He knows how to make noises, but these might just be the prettiest ones yet. A hand rubs at the pinking skin and then, quickly as it comes it's gone and brought down, this time to the space where arse meets thigh.

“Five!”

He could listen to you moan all day. Sex, or at least sex while travelling, is normally a quiet affair. Quiet murmurs of affirmation, whispered begs and pleas, it’s not enough. Jaskier loves sex, loves the intimacy that comes from being as close to someone as humanly possible, but more so than the enjoyment of sex, Jaskier loves the theatrics of sex. Sex is like performing. Doing all possible to please an enthusiastic audience, listening to the sounds of enjoyment as it builds and crescendos, fingers moving faster, doing his best to not make a fool of himself.

“Six!”

Slap!

“Seven!”

He can’t help himself from hoping that this won't be a one-time occurrence. For a few stolen moments you can hand over control to him and give the both of you what you need.

“Eight!” Your stomach rubs against his cock once more and he chokes back a moan. You'll be the death of him. Ruin him entirely. It isn’t enough that he loves you, isn’t enough that you are the most beautiful person he could dream up, no you have to do things like this. Unintentionally ideal. Perfection given human form.

“Nine!”

His hand comes down one final time and you scream out a broken, “Ten!”, and Jaskier heaves out a sigh, rubbing the red skin as gently as he can to soothe you when you begin to tremble. Calloused fingertips slide softly across the abused flesh.

“Oh Darling. My good girl. My good, brave little miss.” He coos sweetly, gently guiding you up to sit on his lap, one hand still running the skin while the other threads itself in the hair at the nape of your neck. “You did so well.” Gently, he presses his forehead against your own, staring into tear filled eyes. “Oh, Dear Heart, did you not like it?” Worry washes over him suddenly. He should have reminded you that you could say no once more, that he wouldn’t be disappointed.

“Kiss me.” You breathe back against his lips and he sighs softly, hand shifting to your jaw to tug you into a chaste kiss. You tremble against his lap, but kiss back far more forcefully than he had kissed you. Gentle but seeking, tongue pushing between his lips to make its way into his mouth. He smirks slightly, but doesn’t open his mouth, feeling you rock against his lap- sweet nectar between your legs dripping through the fabric of his trousers while shaking fingers toy with the lacing of his doublet.

“Darling-"

“You're wearing far too much.” You whine pulling back to stare at him. “Take it off.”

“Take what off?”

“Everything.” One word has never held so much weight. He could look at you like this for always, so soft and desperate and wanting- it makes his heart beat faster and his cock jumps against the heat of your core. He wants to strip himself, rid himself of the offensive articles and just let you take from him all that he has, but he holds your jaw gently instead, using the warm skin as a means to ground himself once more.

“Ask nicely.”

“Jaskier.” You say with a slight scowl, but he narrows his eyes and tilts his head, trying not to laugh at your intent look. “Please. Please strip.”

“I think you can ask nicer than that, Dear Heart.”

“Julian, please take off your clothes. Please.” You ask softly and trail your hands along the chemise beneath his half-unlaced jerkin. “Please, Dandy? I want to touch you- can I?”

The pet name brings a soft smile to his face, hands moving to your hips to shift you onto the bed before undoing the rest of his jacket and shucking it off, to toss it to the side. Ducking down, he peppers a few feverish kisses to your thighs, toying with the ties of his chemise while you tug it over his head. Needy and half frenzied is unlike you, but he can’t say that it isn’t perfection. Shy, unsure sex has been too common, the occasional rushed shag when you two can spare a few seconds less frequent, but this magically manic need is sweet. Jaskier is a performer; performers preen under the watchful eye of attentive audience, need the knowledge of a job well done, which he normally gets from you in the form of moans and frantic rutting. This enthusiasm is perfection, especially while his face is so close to your cunt that he can smell the arousal dripping from it.

Nudity can wait, The Bard smirks, grips your thighs in a vice-like grip and widens the distance between them so he can get his mouth on your sex, tongue gathering slick and relishing that sweet, musky taste. Sweeter than any fruit, more addictive than any wine. Jaskier’s lips find your clit, that bud of nerves that might as well contain every breathless moan that you can fit in your body, and sucks, tongue flicking across it with the moans and curses that such an act wrings from you. Nose buried in the curls that cover your mount, cornflower eyes look up to take you in, writhing in ecstasy, breasts quivering with every stuttered breath. He knew that he had missed something while spanking you’d but it falls into place now. Your face.

Every emotion flit across it, as clear to read as sheet music to him. You have an expressive face at the best of times, but it only seems heightened by sex. He knows many men prefer not to face their lovers and, hell, in his more adventurous days had preferred it himself, but seeing how you feel written across your features is part of the joy of sex. It had taken a while to convince you to stop silencing yourself during intimacy, that those moans are his and hard earned, but those expressions mean even more. Miniscule twitches of the brows and lips that let him know that you enjoy what he is doing, he loves them. Loves you. Those noises are meaningless without that face, pink and contorted with pleasure. That face. He could stare at it all day.

He doesn’t miss Lettenhove, not for a minute, but he does miss paintings. Portraits, moments trapped in time, forever perfect. He wants a painting of moments like this; nothing pornographic, just your face, with not a care for anything but pleasure. To see him through those nights when hunting takes too long and he's long asleep by the time you return. A little painting to have with him always.

“Jaskier-" You whimper, fingers curled into his hair and tugging. “Please. Please.”

He hums softly and slaps your thigh, revelling in the sweet little gasp that comes from you before a gush of fluid hits his lips. The Bard pulls back and blinks in shock. You’re shaking, twisting in the blankets as he just breathes you in. Squirted. You just squirted on him. He was half convinced that such a thing was just A rumour but... you did it.

Blinking rapidly, Jaskier stares up at you awestruck and starry-eyed, trying desperately not to spill into his trousers.

Oh yes. This is going to be a regular occurrence.

#jaskier x reader #jaskier imagine #jaskier x you #dom jaskier #witcher imagine #jaskier smut

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soldrawss · 4 years

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I’m literally begging. I need more of your human aus. They’re so wholesome!!!!

I am always up for more BBM AU so! Here’s a mini-story I wrote when Zach asked if Raph has any underlying ptsd or fears about being alone!

Raph was fine till he was about 7. He doesn't remember his mom, and he barely remembers dad, and Mikey would sooner have a heart attack than leave Raph ALONE alone, so Raph didn't really grow up with the fear of being alone cause he's never really experienced it. He’s always had Mikey. He’s always had Leo and Donnie. It’s never occurred to him that that could ever change. That he could ever not have his big brothers there by his side. But it's during one, late-night when everything kinda just lets loose to the idea that Raph COULD be separated from the rest of them, and really it all goes downhill from there. It's the night Leo came home with a black eye and bruised jaw. Leo said he just got into an accident, to not ‘worry about it, bud. I’m gucci’, and since Donnie didn't say anything about it and Mikey got to stay home for the night to be with them, Raph didn’t worry about it. Cause if his brothers said it was all OK, then it was, because it always had been before, and Raph figured it always would be like that, cause big brothers just had that power to make everything better. They’d never lied to Raph before. This was no different. But then he wakes up that night because he has to go to the bathroom, and he slides himself out from under Mikey's arm. (they had fallen asleep on the couch to a Lou Jitsu marathon, which was rare, cause they never watched dad’s old movies cause it made Mikey sad sometimes to remember dad. But he was in a reminiscent mood, so they threw a couple on and wow, Raph was kinda star-eyed and soft gasps, cause dad was kinda AWESOME) And Mikeys snoring gently, so tired his body is like a dead weight on top of Raph, and Raph's arm is a little numb from where Mikey was drooling on it. And as he's walking through the dark hallway, knowing the layout by heart so he didn’t bother risking turning on the lights in case he woke up Mikey, he tiptoes on sock-clad feet, until he notices a light coming from Dee and Leo’s room. And there are soft voices coming from the barely cracked door, and Raph is super never one to snoop, but theirs a curiosity bubbling in him and he can't help but detour from the bathroom ever so slightly, because he DOES have to go to the bathroom, but a few seconds of listening in won't kill him, and his big brothers NEVER let him in on their secret conversations. So Raph leans in, his ear pressed as close to the crack as he dared- "It was stupid, that's what! Do you know how much trouble you could have been in? You could have been expelled, Leo! It could have gone on your permanent record!" And oh... that was Donnie's voice... and he sounded... well, he sounded mad... but more than that... he sounded... scared. "Well, it didn't. And you worry too much. Nothing was gonna happen. It wasn't like I got into a fight with the principal’s kid! They didn't do more than a slap on the wrist and a few weeks detention." And Leo.... Leo got into a fight? Raph didn't know that. Why didn't they tell Raph that? Why did they... lie to Raph?

Raph pressed himself closer to the door. The bathroom long-forgotten behind him.

"And that's the thing! YOU don't worry at all! God, you're so self-absorbed! Do you really not get how bad this could have been?" "Look, I said I was sorry about getting involved, but I'm not sorry for slugging Tatsu in the nose. They BROKE your glasses Dee, you can't expect me to NOT to get mad about that." "This isn't about that stupid fight with some bullies, Leo-" "Then what is it about Donnie?! Because you've been riding my backside about it all night, but haven't said a word why! Why are you still so mad at me about this?" "I'm not MAD at you, I'm-" "You’re what then? Is this about what they said? About Mikey and me? You’re mad because I stepped in and threw a punch before you could? You’re mad because I made you the victum here? Look, I know that you hate it when I meddle in your business and try to fight your fights for you but I’m-” "I’M SCARED YOU COULD HAVE BEEN TAKEN AWAY, YOU ASS HOLE!" And Leo seemed to be just as surprised as Raph felt. They had been talking in pretty quiet voices up until Donnie practically screamed that last part, and it sent an electric shock through Raph's whole system. And Raph couldn't see their facial expressions, he didn't dare move an inch closer to the door to peek inside, but he could tell from the hitch in Donnie's voice. Donnie was crying now. "You could have been.... You could STILL be.." Donnie sniffed, and Raph felt his own eyes sting in proxy. "Tatsu's dad didn't this time, but he could have very well made an issue out of this. He could have brought this to the attention of the school board. And then the school board would have had to call Draxum, or worse, Bishop, and you KNOW child services don't need a reason to separate us! Bishop will take one look at your black eye and blame everything on Mikey and then they'll take us AWAY Leo! Don't you get that?" And that... what did that mean? What was Donnie talking about? Take us away? Take us away where? Who was Bishop? What was child services? Raph's mind was spinning, like car wheels on ice with no traction to go anywhere. His feet felt planted to the floor, sunk right there into the carpet. "Wait.. wait what?... Bishop? He's still a thing? I thought he got switched out for that other agent?” "Just because he doesn’t do house visits anymore doesn’t mean he still isn’t our case holder. He can still ruin our lives just as easily from his cubicle," And Donnie didn't sound like he was crying anymore, but there was still a raw roughness to his voice that Raph was whole years not accustomed too. "Raph's a baby. Heck, WE'RE still considered babies in the eyes of the law. It won't take a whole lot for them to take even the slightest infraction to deem Mikey unqualified. And then what would happen? We could probably manage to stay together cause people are kinder on not separating twins, but what about Raph? They'll take Raph for sure and ship him off to the other side of the country and there'd be nothing we could do to stop it and-" And Raph stopped listening after that. because... Because... What? Raph could be sent away? There are people out there that could take Raph away from Leo and Donnie? Away from Mikey? And that easily? And why? Because Mikey wasn't good enough? That... That didn't make any sense? Mikey was the best! There was no one better than Mikey in the whole world! How could there be people who didn't see that? And didn't they know that Raph couldn't go anywhere without Mikey? It didn't make any sense. None of it. But there was a pounding boom in Raph's chest that made it hard to breathe. His head spun, like he was just gone 4 rounds on the merry-go-around on the pier, and Raph couldn't THINK straight. He ran back towards the living room, he didn't care if he made any noise. He didn't care about anything really, at that moment. All he cared about was... Mikey. Still asleep and drooling on the couch from where Raph left him, and Raph practically jumped on top of his chest and clung onto his big brother for dear life, pressing his tear stained face into the front of Mikey's shirt. "Ouuufff! Hey- Hey Raph. You ok?" Mikey says in a startled slur, eyes blinking rapidly to tear away from sleep. His arms wrapped around Raph instinctually, like his body new what to do before his mind could catch up, and it felt like the most natural security blanket in the world to Raph. He cried harder into Mikey's chest. "Hey shhhhhh-shhhhhhhhh, buddy, it's ok. Breathe." Mikey was sitting up now, sleep all but forgotten as he stared down at the 7-year-old attached to his front, rubbing slow and gentle circles into Raph's back. "Raphie it's ok. You're ok sweetheart. You're safe and sound right here. Was it a nightmare? Did you have a bad dream?" And it sure felt like it. The world was spinning rapidly in a downward spiral of breathtaking hurt, just like a lot of Raph's nightmares. Except the monsters were real. They were real and practically right outside Raph's door and they could take Raph away any SECOND and Raph couldn't respond to Mikey. He wouldn't respond days, even weeks, later, when Mikey askes about it. All he can do is cry. Cry like his heart is breaking in half, and cling onto the safest and only lifeline in the world that he knows.

Thus spiraling Raph into a "clingy" stage, where he's terrified to be left alone for too long. Terrified to be separated in the grocery store, INSISTING Mikey hold his hand the entire time. Terrified to go to school and be away from his brothers for too long. Terrified to even SLEEP alone in his bed. And it's so wild to Mikey, because at first, it was kinda cute how a little bad dream made his baby brother all clingy to his side, and Mikey kinda enjoyed the endless attention.

But then it started getting a bit too close to real, actual hysteria and paranoia that Raph was dealing with, and it took a mental breakdown on Raph's part, after Mikey had been a little late picking him up from school one day, because Leo and Donnie both had extracurriculars, and usually Raph just hangs out in the playground and waits for Mikey to come. But this time, he's crying his eyes out, pale and breathless and endlessly fussy with his teachers by the time Mikey arrives, and he clings unto Mikey, like he'd never see Mikey again, and Mikey HAS to have a talk with him, because what on earth could scare his brother as bad as THIS? And when Raph finally tells him, Mikey doesn't know what to do but hold him to his chest as tight as he can and whisper pretty half-truths to Raph to make him feel better. Because Mikey couldn't blindly let himself believe the "Of course! Nothing will ever take you away from me Raph, it's all ok! You have nothing to worry about! Your big brother will make sure all of you are all safe and ok! I promise kiddo. No one is taking anyone away. I won't let that happen." How could he? This was a very real fear. It was Mikey's Biggest fear on the daily. But he couldn't let Raph feel like this. To carry this fear and burden. That was too much for a 7-year-old. Mikey didn't even realize Leo and Donnie were aware of their situation to that degree.

And it puts seeded pits of fear in his chest, taking root in his heart and feeding into something dark and cold and fearful. But Mikey does his best to push it down. Push it away. Out of sight of Raph and Leo and Donnie. And he smiles and laughs and presses kisses to Raph's temple and carries his baby brother piggyback all the way home, because he'll carry whatever weight his brothers are dealing with. Take on any fears. as long as they don't have to face them alone. As long as Mikey can still protect them, for as long and as hard as he can, then when the day comes that Bishop DOES show up at their door, he'll be ready for him.

#bbm au #big brother mikey au #rottmnt #rottmnt human #oh opps here some sad now

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nightswithkookmin · 3 years

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Was Jk shading Taehyung during his New Years wishes to him at GDA? Twitter people are reading a LOT into it, saying that Jk is still salty at Tae and vice versa. They seem pretty chill to me. Why do people always find reasons to believe there is Vminkook drama?Is there a reason to think they aren't repairing their freindship?

VMINKOOK...

First of all, why would JK shade Taehyung? What are they fighting about, I wonder. Has anyone known JK to be the passive aggressive king slash shade throwing one in that trio? Because, not me...

I don't see him as the, 'those two are hanging out now followed by a slight head tilt,' kind of person. The 'Jimin wants to come but JK is keeping him from coming,' the 'well, you ignore me anyway so I couldn't tell you were on a mission' kind.

Or even the, 'my friendship relationships are gold to me and it's important for me to nurture those connections' knowing damn well the elephant in the room has a possessive streak and he himself has been on record, allegedly, stating he has one same age friend and all his friends are hyungs- so what is JK to you then Jimin?

Then the whole, 'texting is not a great way to build connections and is a barrier to effective communication' -words spewed in full cognizance of the fact JK is a bad texter yet prefers texting to talking on phone anyway- that is what I call shade. Not sure what was in the water that day, but chilee Jimin was all over the place in that Be Behind video. Lmho.

I think everyone, including even the semi-rational Tuktukker, know damn well what JK meant by that statement and what had prompted it- but leave it to them to circumvent.

Ah, V hyung... we used to have a special bond. When we were trainees, we had such great chemistry. V used to be the easiest hyung to talk to, now it's awkward.

Where is the shade in this? I don't think at all that he is or was in anyway shading Tae or any one. To shade would imply he has stock. He don't.

I hate when people talk about Tae Kook as if there is something wrong with their bond. There isn't. It is what it is. It's just not what their shoppers make it out to be. They are looking for depth where there is none. The fact of the matter is Tae Kook lacks depth to their dynamics. We know it, JK knows it, BigHit knows it. No amount of bullying Jimin or Jokers will add that missing depth back to their relationship. Sorry.

'He is still salty,' honey he was never salty about anything to begin with. They tried it! Making it sound like JK wants Tae to change in order to relate with him again. He don't.

Why would JK be salty about Tae's growth? Why would he object to Tae's growth?

Because that's what it is. This whole Tae Kook tensions is not about them fighting, it's about them growing apart. Tae grew the fuck up and JK can't relate with him or treat him the way he used to when they were young.

And if these self absorbed, legally blind shoppers looked beyond Tae Kook for a second, they will know it's not just JK complaining about Tae changing and becoming different as he grew up.

Tae used to be the easiest hyung to talk to and bully because they were closer in age and Tae allowed for such familiarity between them. Similar to how, Jin and Jimin allows for a certain degree of familiarity and informality between them and Jk.

While Tae allowed and was open to this level of closeness and informality between them, JK apparently held on to the gates, only scraping the surface of it and inhibiting the depth that could have been to their dynamics.

Was Tae content with that dynamic? No. Did he communicate that to JK? May be he did but JK wouldn't let his guards down. Tae failed to breach JK's emotional boundaries and years later he would express this sentiment openly to JK in their conversation in Soop.

Whereas, JK admitted to Jimin's successful breach of his emotional walls when he recounted the story of their rainy day fight- let me not hear any one compare Jikook to any of JK's ship in BTS, I whoop your ass. D!

This is the intimacy that is missing in Tae Kook. When you are close to someone, you not only feel at ease with them enough to express your thoughts freely with them, you are comfortable enough with them to be yourself, be different, to antagonize them without the fear that your differences and outbursts will sever your bond or lead to irreparable damage to your bond.

Fact is, in as much as JK felt close to Tae in the early days, he harbored a fear that being fully himself enough to be 'opinionated' and fully honest in his self expressions towards him, would break their bond.

He clearly didn't trust their bond was strong enough to handle all of that. That's the intimacy you find in Jikook. The trust. They are both unapologetically themselves with eachother because they trust in their bond.

Which means they share a lot but are also very opinionated with eachother, clash and assert themselves with eachother. And I know the kumbaya fake woke Jokers hate to hear it, but Jikook are strong not because they don't fight but because their bond withstands the test of a fight as Tae explained in his conversation with JK in Soop.

He was able to get closer with Jimin and Jin by being openly assertive with them- going against Jimin in the dumpling incident and all the times they fought, directly confrontational with Jin over their dance choreo but with JK he had always been scared to open himself in that way with him for whatever reason- I won't bother speculating on. It's their ship, they should do the maths.

May be he learned his lesson. He's learned not to fear conflict, to be assertive without fearing he would be punished for it, to be less passive aggressive as he was before and express himself and his feelings more openly over the years.

But it took him closing himself off to get there. Always looking in photos as if Yeontan ate the last brisket. Exuding melancholic vibes.

Young Jk equally didn't have a positive view on conflict and conflict resolution and I think he knew his place as the youngest and did not want to be as opinionated or assertive against them and so, as he explained to Tae in Soop, he opted to keep a safe distance emotionally from everyone- not just Tae.

When JK talks about we used to have a special bond, all he means is they used to be mischievous, get in trouble together, be brats, chat shit under their breaths behind their hyungs- partners in crime and as I like to call them, be the evil power duo of BTS.

They literally shared one brain cell lol, and conspired a lot. Their bond was unique only in that Tae was a rebel at heart and a bit innocent or immature as RM and the others would say.

Ship wise, Tae used to be on his side. He was protective of him and and looked out for him when they were young- that's of course before he started passive aggressively exposing JK's relationship with Jimin on VLives, incessantly shipping Jimin with Suga, dragging JK's ass away from JM's car so he could ride with him and all of those harmless moments that to anyone with little understanding of Tae's character would assume Tae didn't support JK's relationship.

And even after Soop, he put JK on the spot when he tried eye fucking Jimin through the view finder during their dynamite MV- he knew what JK was going to do. He's seen him do that a countless times to Jimin- HE KNOWS.

There is a reason JK gave him that look in the Dynamite shoot interview when he thought Tae was intentionally trying to expose him holding hands with Jimin behind Suga.

As much as these little things may be irritating to Kook, I don't think Tae gotta kiss his ass too. Jk can be messy sometimes with his Jikook agenda.

Of course they dynamic would change if Tae changed too- which is what Jimin and everyone says of Taehyung. He is very reserved and mature now. He is not the same childish, immature, reckless teen JK or Tuktukkers used to know.

He grew faster than either JK or JM had hoped and they both miss that part of him. Tae said he wished he could get a time machine and show Army the 'Chimchar' he was back in the day. The only way Taekook can be real is if we all hop into a time machine and go back in time to change the trajectory of events.

Tuktukkers need to let go of their old ship, that ship is dead and embrace the new ship brewing in its stead.

Jimin have said occasionally, that side of Tae pops out but he is very different from who he used to be when they were young. Which explains these outbursts of moments and interactions reminiscent of their past bond but that's all that is.

Why do these people insist on infantilizing Tae and holding him to his past?

That comment at GDA wasn't shade. But it was an inside Joke I feel. Like I said, when JK talks about their past history and bond, to me it's reference to a time period where Tae was on his side and was mischievous. To me it's code for 'I miss when you were less uptight and strict.'

He brought up when Tae gave them leeway and was lenient with their schedule during the making of Be- a sentiment all the members expressed in the Be behind video when they praised Tae for giving them much room in their schedules.

It was the same thing he said during his speech to Tae at GDA after bringing up the whole past bond thingy. He wanted to express appreciation to Tae perhaps because the loose schedule Tae had created had given him much time to go home and give his man a blowjob or go house shopping with him- who knows.

The way he kept looking at Jimin while saying that... yea. I'm going with that. Lol.

That loose schedule definitely put Tae in JK and JM's good graces.

My take away from that moment though, is- JK's agenda to give Tuktukkers hernia🤣

Lord I'm dying. I laughed so hard my ribs hurt. Pray for me. Lmho.

Chilee JK.

Dude is on a mission to run the entire Taekook gay, Taekook married propaganda campaign into the ground. What guts me is, he knows what Tae Kook is. I bet he went online after that Tae Kook Vlive to watch Tae Kook compilations. He's been on a mission to obliterate that ship since. Lol.

I mean I won't put it past him. Probably looked up Yoonmin while he was at it and showed Jimin analysis videos of him moaning in Suga's bedroom🤣🤣🤣🤣

Would explain why he was laughing when he saw Yoonmin in the comments during the VLive and why Jimin looked like he wanted to eat us alive. Lmho.

Oh Tae touched my peepee? You bloody moaned in Suga's bedroom how about we call it even?

ROTFL.

I joke but I mean, this is the same dude who took an online personality test after Tae read his results to him in Soop- he definitely watched those Tae Kook compilation-Y'all laugh else I'll shoot you. Lmho. I can't be the only one who finds this funny!

He knows what shipping is, he knows how statements like that would be construed by the fans- and the fact Jimin had spent an entire interview and behind scenes openly disavowing his glorified friendship connections... I smell a renewal of commitment somewhere.

Don't mind me. I play too much sometimes.

There is nothing wrong with Tae Kook's friendship. If anything, it seems JK feels very appreciative of Tae in recent times which is usually a good sign between them because for Vminkook to thrive they all need to make space for eachother and for the pairings amongst them to thrive- Vmin, Taekook and Jikook.

I hope this helps?

Signed,

GOLDY

#jikook #jikooktheories #jikook analysis #jikook bts #jikook is real #goldy analysis #ask response #ask goldy #goldy blogs #goldy #nightswithkookmin

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shypotato-translations · 3 years

Text

QTVW Chapter 8

Future* President's Fiancee (VIII)

----

After Ling Xihan's words landed, An Mu Lan's spine immediately stiffened.

Ling Xihan reached out her hand, white and slender fingers, and cupped An Mu Lan's chin, turning her head to face her.

And at this time, Ling Xihan saw that An Mu Lan, under her gaze, lowered her head slightly and quietly dropped her tears.

Crystal tears flowed out of her round eyes, somewhat like rain, staining her black curved eyelashes, before falling in large globs, An Mu Lan's lips were tightly pursed at this moment, her face was a look of obvious patience and sadness.

An Mu Lan gave a sob and her lips trembled as she suppressed her emotions and whispered,

"You're disappointed in me, aren't you? You hate me like this, don't you?"

She huffed again, then took a deep breath to calm her emotions.

Only when she had calmed down did she say in a flat tone,

"Although I was the young lady of the An family, my father did not like me, or even hate me, because my mother died for me; and my brothers never considered me as their sister. But I don't blame them, because I hate myself just as much, because I was the one who saw my mother die, and it was all my doing."

She squeezed her thumbs and spoke slowly,

"I don't blame them for being indifferent to me, and I don't blame the servants for looking down on me and bullying me, because these are all human things, but ...... I hated that woman, who was a lowly maid, and yet she occupied the most important place in my father's and brother's heart.

I hated their resentment, she was clearly just selling her flesh, she enjoyed a large group of people taking care of her, but she acted like a victim, she even begged to come to me, how I loathed her, so ...... I played a trick, I wanted her to lose her reputation under the eyes of everyone, so that everyone would see her for what she really was. She is nothing but a self-absorbed lowly servant.”

She blinked as tears crossed her cheeks, there was a look of stubbornness and vulnerability in her eyes, she suddenly turned her head away and finished wiping them roughly with the back of her right hand before continuing,

"So, I did such a thing, so, I let you down, I am not a good girl, I am not well behaved, I am not quiet, and I resent, and I am disgusted. I'm sorry ...... this marriage was a decision made by my father, I will go back to the An family immediately, to see my father and ask him to break the engagement, our marriage, forget it anyway ......"

She wiped her eyes once more, but her voice was tinged with sobs, and she said viciously,

"Anyway ...... Li Jiarou is single now, she is noble and prettier than me, a real lady of the house, she is the one for you, not to mention, the Li family power that is behind her, I know you need this, sorry .... I can't be that useful to you."

An Mu Lan made a move to break free from Ling Xihan's arms, her face showing a grim and hopeless look, but her body's movements, however, were extraordinarily swift.

She broke away from Ling Xihan's grasp, then got up and got out of bed, and just as she was about to put on her shoes and walk away, Ling Xihan tugged An Mu Lan's hand and pulled her back into her arms, and then, she spoke.

Her voice was still cold, with a bit of coolness, she said in a slow tone,

"This matter of alliance is the layout of my arrangement, you just need to obediently do my bidding and stay by my side. You are very good, you know how to use your own hands to get what you want. I like people with a vengeance and a ruthless heart.

Mu Lan, stay and be here. This matter is not up to you, you are not qualified now, you have no right to speak against it, you are just a vase with a little brain, I can provide for you, but if you want to speak on the same level as me, then you have to do what I say."

As she said this, she lifted An Mu Lan's chin and looked into her teary eyes. After An Mu Lan had gone through a suppressed crying session, her eyes were now slightly red and fully hydrated, looking extraordinarily soft and helpless, while her lips, which had become engorged and red from her lover's earlier tight pursing and nibbling.

Ling Xihan looked at this face of hers, innocent and childish, and suddenly lowered her head and kissed her lightly on the lips. She rubbed her lips against An Mu Lan's and then said to her in this intimate position,

"You and I are the same kind of person, I like your softness, but I like your darkness even more, stay well by my side and I will teach you to be evil, teach you to take revenge on those who hurt you personally, because you are beautiful enough to please me. "

After Ling Xihan finished, she got up and straightened her slightly creased clothes, then she resumed her usual harmless indifference and said to the **blushing An Mu Lan,

"I'm going to the study to work now, it's 7pm."

An Mu Lan immediately understood the meaning of her words, she blushed slightly, as if she was shy about the earlier kiss, she whispered,

"I'll clean up and wash up, then I'll go and make dinner, you go and get busy."

Ling Xihan narrowed her eyes in satisfaction and turned to leave the bedroom.

The door closed with a 'bang', and An Mu Lan's stiff body, immediately went limp as she laid back and breathed heavily, as if she had gone through a fierce struggle.

She raised her hand to cover the soft light, the faint sting of her eyes telling her how messy she had been crying earlier. But, as messy as it was, she had finally gotten through this one and managed to turn the tables, bringing her closer and closer to Ling Xihan.

This time, it was when Ling Xihan was looking deeply at her that she came up with the idea on a whim.

As soon as she saw the deepness in Ling Xihan's eyes, she made a show of fear, placing herself in the manner of a child who has been caught doing something bad by an adult with a guilty heart.

It was not difficult for her, for she did feel the threat of death under Ling Xihan's grim gaze, and she knew that if she answered incorrectly, she would be thrown out of the room at the slightest, or die without a trace if she died accidentally.

There are a few places in the novel's plot where it is slightly depicted, the frightening aspect of this person, Ling Xihan.

An Mu Lan had never underestimated her, even with this planning by the Li family, apart from the fact that she felt that it had gone exceptionally well, more than anything else, she was speculating about the helpers behind the scenes.

Subconsciously, when she saw the news, she had already switched on her autonomous defence mode, and this time, she had indeed got it right.

She was not alone in resolving the matter smoothly, though, as the familiar mechanical sound that suddenly sounded in her head as Ling Xihan licked her cheek brought her to her senses.

【The host is facing the threat of death, the system activates its self-rescue mode, redeeming 50 points on its own in exchange for one 'Intelligence Enhancement’.】

【Warning: System hosts please be cautious, your soul consciousness will be completely dissipated if the mission cannot be achieved.】

Mu Lan knew that this was her second crossing mission, she could not remember exactly who she was before she died, but she knew that her existence, was very simple, so she did not have a strong ability to defend herself, her acting skills were poor, her intelligence was usual, she could only be careful to do everything right.

But even this is still not enough, because what happened in relation to the Li family banquet has made her clearly aware that she is lacking in herself, and that she has much to improve.

And Ling Xihan was willing to give her a chance, she was willing to come and teach her to grow, no matter what the reason was, Mu Lan was grateful to her, because whatever she had learnt in this world would eventually be turned into 【Skill Collection】and added to her strength when the task was completed.

An Mu Lan wiped the cold sweat from her forehead, then got up and went downstairs to the kitchen to cook, her role now, apart from pleasing Ling Xihan, was to cook her a home-cooked dinner, she knew that Ling Xihan liked the warmth of home, so she made an effort to do so. She does it patiently and then immediately goes to correct her mistakes, her strong will is to rip off Ling Xihan and she will take her time to do it.

After the two of them had eaten dinner, Ling Xihan walked over to the sofa and sat down. She turned on the electronic video for a rare occasion, randomly pressing the button to a channel, and watched it quietly.

An Mu Lan obediently walked over to Ling Xihan's side and took the initiative to soften her body as the other woman reached out to take her into her arms.

Then she heard Ling Xi Han's flat and slightly cold voice say,

"Tomorrow morning go to the company with me, watch me do my work, I will teach you some things; and in the afternoon, you will go to the exercise room on the ground floor of the company, I have just found some fitness instructors for you, you go and learn some fighting skills from them.

My background is not clean, there will always be people seeking revenge, and at this time, your status as my fiancée is the disadvantage that my enemies use to retaliate against me. As long as you stay by my side, I will keep you safe, though I cannot rule out the unexpected. And at this time, for your personal safety, you need to improve your strength and practice obedience."

After saying that, she kissed An Mu Lan's soft cheek and asked in a low voice,

"Do you understand?"

An Mu Lan looked up at her, her wet and slightly red eyes twinkling, then she pouted and said,

"I understand."

"That's good!"

Ling Xihan rewarded her with a kiss, then took her hand and said,

"Go to my room tonight, you'll move into my room after this, we're in a fiancee relationship, aren't we?"

An Mu Lan blushed down and mumbled her lips as she said,

"Yes, thank you for helping me, that's very kind of you."

At these words, Ling Xihan's hand that was stroking An Mu Lan paused, then gently patted the top of her head and said,

"Go to bed."

An Mu Lan replied,

"Mhm."

#shypotato #yuri #trangmigration #world hopping #QTVW8

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mysticalmusicwhispers · 3 years

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HELLO I'M BACK!! GUESS WHO HAS A TERM BREAK COMING IN A FEW DAYS I'M VERY HAPPY :D this ask is Very Long so i'm going to split it up into a few parts

part 1/2

But honestly, it would probably be something like “I’m going to bring a (dead) chicken to class for show and tell and you two need to act horrified and cause a ruckus because it would be fun and it would scare the other kids :)”. (this is probably bullying, so in an effort to make them slightly better kids, an alternative plot is that a stray cat has been coming to their school and in order to make friends with it, they feed it a whole-ass dead chicken Nyo China got from the butchers and was planning to cook for dinner. The teachers are horrified and confiscate Yao’s backpack for fear of germs and salmonella.)

hhhhhh the first idea is SO FUN my gremlin repressed anger eight year old self would've loved it. the idea of bringing a stinking plastic bag to school, opening it, revealing a dead, fly-infested chicken and then maybe playing a small game of lobbing the chicken around for funsies is both simultaneously horrifying and amazing. however the second idea is also amazing, one of my previous schools had stray cats and staff and students would feed and pet them (and i miss it :( ) and it was the Best feeling... or maybe they could do BOTH? but this time they're planning to bring a dead chicken to feed the cat (aw, even if yao probably gets detention. also a lecture from nyo china on what exactly you should feed a cat, including why you shouldn't steal the chicken she bought to feed it.) and the next time they can bring like. a bunch of dead flies to show their classmates but in a not bully way. i went once to this family friend's house in a part of the countryside that had an abundance of flies. (i literally haven't thought of this in years i'm remembering so many childhood things because of this omg) they had this paper covered with glue that the flies would land on and then be stuck on the paper. it was both disgusting and amazing to watch a black mass of bulbous bodies straining with their legs (which were probably thinner than my hair) to escape the paper. i also think that indchuran, being both little sadists in the making and having an abudnace of fascination like many children, would take great delight in watching an unsuspecting fly landing on the glue, watch it still, glancing around eerily similarly to when humans realise they have gotten themselves in a bad situation, and then start struggling with all their might to get out. but fuck the flies tho they landed on our food all the time there and it sucked. they can die :)

THE PROBELM is... how will they get that many flies in what i assume would be a gentrified ass area with frequent fumigation efforts given that nyo china would not accept anything than the best elementary education for her ward?? (i have a solution) maybe indus has friends in the countryside and she goes with aditya to visit them. and while they are talking aditya wanders about and discovers a few pieces of paper filled with flies. because he is a gremlin, he is Fascinated with these pieces of paper, and he takes one out to Further Examine. all the adults yell at him, but he is Fascinated and will not be stopped. and then a Thought occurs to him: who would probably enjoy this as much as he would? duh, his friends of course! good things must be Shared even if they're kind of disgusting! so what he does is he gets a disposable plastic tupperware like container, very gently places the fly paper into it, pokes a few holes for air, sprinkles some sugar because he thinks that'll keep them alive, and wraps most of it up in duct tape he found so indus can't see it. unfortunately most of the flies died on the way home because the container was stuffed into aditya's bag and the paper slid to the side + there wasn't enough air, BUT the dead flies are still a Sight to behold when he visits iran's house (which yao is /coincidentally/ visiting) to show them. then he brings it to school after the weekend, and everyone is Fascinated and thinks it is Very Cool, at least until the teachers see it and start screaming. they throw it away but indchuran get an Idea to put dead flies into the bags of people they hate (this is now just bullying) so that opens up a very few interesting weeks of attempts to collect flies in a fumigated city and Horror for the school. fun times for all!

😔 finding and reading that encyclopedia is probably one of my formative memories now and i wish it wasn't 😔 i bet yao during his teenage years would look back on it and be like "... oh my GOD." but i think he would appreciate her directness even if he didn't absorb all the information correctly or remember most of it lmao because it seems like only a very small percentage of the world has actually good sex ed and i don't think indchuran's school would be an exception. at least nyo china like you said instilled a good sense of consent with them 😔 also the idea of saying fuck in mandarin makes me break out in hives the AUDACITY of saying fuck in your first language but of course he would. he WOULD. nyo china probably wouldn't even have purposely taught him that which is why he doesn't know what it means, just that it's an insult, but once they come up to her to complain all she does is give them a Terrifying Contemptuous Glare and steer yao away from them. yao is her kid and therefore entitled to say fuck whenever he wants.

First things first I hope you had a good term break! this is... very overdue sorry about that :(

Second, ALSK:FJ:SLFDKSFDLKJSLDF the fly infested chicken is disgusting and I want so badly to intervene,,, they need hELP. Please learn about proper sanitation, children, I’m begging you T-T. Also, headcanon accepted: they’re ostensibly bringing it to feed the cats (which is hopefully allowed) but also they want to terrorize (or awe) their fellow classmates with this discovery. Watch the school call up nyo china about this, but she gets annoyed only because yao wasted human food in order to feed cats, not because he brought an inappropriately dead chicken to school that scared the younger kids and fellow classmates lol; what a great value system. Also this scenario def happened: School: your child got in a fight. Nyo China: Oh no! Did he win?

I am both fully revolted and half fascinated by the flypaper thing because on one hand I CANNOT stand flies, and killing them is 178% gross. But also the way you described it is... very compelling and I would like to experience that, gross as it is lol. So yea I can definitely see those three nastily observing the flies getting stuck to the flypaper one by one... they all intently watch the flypaper with round and curious eyes and it really looks very cute from far away, three heads of fluffy hair close together and bent over something, carrying on an animated whispered discussion, until you get closer and see that they’re watching flies on flypaper •—•;; An even more gross scenario would be if one of them accidentally squashes one and they crowd around to see what fly guts look like 😭 bonus points if it happens during school. Also YES to Indus’s countryside friend; I feel like India would have a lot of fun exploring over there and would be able to bring back v cool stories for city slicker Yao, and also Iran (although I don’t know where they’d live precisely. I feel like they’d probably have a medium sized house with very nice art and Classy furniture (they got good taste from somewhere), but they’d also knows a lot about how rural areas work and stuff, so uh.. suburbs? Or something like that?)

“then he brings it to school after the weekend, and everyone is Fascinated and thinks it is Very Cool. . .” O—O sigh... three balls of absolute chaos. At least the other kids are fascinated this time instead of apprehensive ^-^ but the dead flies in lockers AL:KDSLFDSJF PLEASE NO me as an elementary student would have been absolutely horrified and I. really hope they get detention for that lol; Please Tone Down kids 😔 (also do y’all get flies in the lights at school? Because every single classroom I’ve been in has either had flies, wasps, moths, or some other black spots in the lights and they’d multiply as the year went on 😭 I never thought about it too much but... what if they linger around to watch the lights get cleaned? o-o)

“i bet yao during his teenage years would look back on it and be like "... oh my GOD."” YEAH there’s always a select few memories that make you realize “what even WAS that” and I think this is one lol. Yao just buries it in the back of his spacious mental closet and makes India and Iran swear not to bring it up again but inevitably they do :))))) they find it rather hilarious, actually. Also yes at least Nyo China did a good job in that department!

“also the idea of saying fuck in mandarin makes me break out in hives the AUDACITY of saying fuck in your first language but of course he would” lol I wrote that thinking he'd call someone a 王八* (because it could technically pass as a regular noun o-o. Who knows, maybe he was insulting someone for being slow like a turtle but it got out of hand due to word choice lol) but... the second scenario is quite something... I don't know whether I should laugh or cry. RIP the other parents who just have to fervently hope that disgraceful kid from next door grows out of his foul mouth soon (he never does, just gets better at pretending his language is elegant and not at all dirty XD)

*for non mandarin speakers 王八 is literally a soft shelled turtle, but is actually a pretty big insult in mandarin :)

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im-a-space-gay · 4 years

Text

Seeing Shadows Chapter 1

I know this is kinda small, but don’t worry! I have big plans for this series! Is that a good thing, I’ll let you decide!

Chapter 1- An Ordinary Day

T.W.: Ghosts, Character Deaths, Mentions of Suicide, Mentions of Bullies, Let Me Know If I Need to Add More

~~~

Most of the time, Virgil loved his friends. They understood him, they appreciated him, they helped him. Even if he was seen strange for hanging out with them, he loved them.

But sometimes...

"VIRGIL! VIRGIL WAKE UP, WAKE UP VIRGIL C'MON IT'S TIME TO GET READY FOR SCHOOL!"

Sometimes he wished they could die a second time.

"Shut up," Virgil mumbled, throwing a pillow over his face, and he heard a sigh of fondness from one of them. Logan or Patton, if he had to guess. "School can go frick itself."

"Virgiiiiieeeee," Patton said this time, poking him in the side. "Get readyyyyyy."

"FINE," Virgil groaned, getting up and throwing the pillow in the direction of a snickering Roman even though he knew it'd only go through the egocentric ghost. He looked at the three ghosts hovering around the bed and watching him before huffing and dragging himself to his closet.

"What'd you pick today Roman?" Virgil asked, knowing Roman probably spent all night picking out the outfit for today. He opened the walk-in closet and listened to Logan and Patton discussing Virgil's schedule as Roman told Virgil what it was today.

You see, Virgil was indecisive when it came to certain things, like what to wear. Ever since he met Roman and told him this, Roman took it upon himself to pick out an outfit for Virgil everyday he had to go somewhere. He let him do his own thing when he stayed home.

Virgil closed the door to the closet with the outfit, shooing his friends out when they hesitated to leave. They were way too worried about leaving him alone for some reason. Even Janus and Remus didn't like it when one of them wasn't with him.

"Guess dead people are protective," he mumbled to himself, getting dressed. Virgil figured it was because he met most of them when he was young, and he was a pretty jumpy kid back then. He looked at himself in the mirror and admired himself a tiny bit.

Today Roman picked fishnet stockings, black high-waisted shorts, a black tank top tucked into said shorts, a dark purple crop top sweater, black fingerless gloves, combat boots, and a black beanie with his gay pin, P!ATD pin, and MCR pin in it. The outfit complemented his heterochromia, the left eye being white while his right was black.

He quickly smudged black eyeshadow beneath his eyes since he didn't want to put too much effort into makeup today.

Virgil opened the door to the closet and walked out. Roman looked proud of himself as Patton clapped. Logan looked mildly concerned though.

"No. Boys will be checking out Virgil all day and looking at him like he's a snack!"

"Exactly," Roman whispered, wiping a fake tear. "If I was alive I know I'd certainly check him out!"

"Okay, one, that's weird," Logan said, furrowing his brows. "Two, absolutely not! I would rather commit suicide a second time than let him go out in that!"

Virgil rolled his eyes, exiting the small bedroom and leaving the bickering ghosts behind, Patton floating above him as he went downstairs. He grabbed a bowl of cereal and ate at the table, watching his mom fill out last minute paper work.

"Hey Vivi. Who's with ya?" His mom asked, huffing as she put down the pen and ran a hand through her curly hair.

"Patton," he answered, watching the ghost turn on the TV (when he used to do that, it freaked out his poor mother so much. Now it's just weird if he didn't) and change it to cartoons as he sat criss cross in the air. "Logan and Roman are fighting upstairs."

"What's it about this time?" She asked, picking the pen back up and writing things down.

"Logan says the clothes Roman picked for me today is gonna attract the attention of boys, which is bad I guess, and Roman says that's good."

"So the usual worrywart Logan versus idiot Roman once again?"

"Yeeeeep," Virgil popped the p, killing off his cereal. He stood up stretching before cleaning his bowl in the sink. He sighed, hearing the argument coming downstairs. "Warning, disagreeing Lo and Ro incoming."

"Gotcha," his mom said, signing her signature.

"I'm just saying that he needs to find a boyfriend soon!" Virgil turned from the sink and started glaring at them, but they didn't notice.

"No he doesn't! He's doing just fine by himself, and that's okay!"

"Are we seriously talking about this?" Virgil asked, getting irritated. He normally didn't mind it when his dead friends talked about him like he wasn't there. He was used to it. But discussions like these always put him on edge. Like, were these ghosts seriously arguing about his love life? Again?

"What?" His mother asked glancing between him and where he was glaring.

"Boyfriends," Virgil groaned, sitting across from her and putting his face down on the table. His mother sighed.

"Virgil, I know you don't like living people, but you can't only have friends with the supernatural. Especially people only you can see."

"I sure as heck can try though," came the muffled response and his mother sighed again. Virgil stood up and grabbed his backpack, declaring he should probably go if he wanted to make it to school in time.

"Before you go," his mom said. Virgil looked back at her. "What are the rules?"

"Don't talk to ghosts unless no one is around, the people around me know I can see them, or I'm pretending I'm on a call. Don't react to what ghosts say in public. Don't help ghosts make their way to the afterlife if it's at my expense. No more than three ghosts in the house at a time, and never have Roman and Remus in the house at the same time."

"Okay, have a good day sweetie."

"You too," he said as he closed the door behind him. Virgil watched the other three float out behind him as he put his ear buds in, knowing people would assume he's on a call because of it. He started walking down the street towards school as Patton giggled.

"Hey Virgie," the ten year old said, holding back his laughter. Virgil kept on walking without looking at him, as it would seem weird to normal people.

"Wassup buddy?"

"When you look for something, why is it always in the last place you looked?" Virgil smiled hearing Logan say "don't you dare".

"I don't know, why?"

"Because then you stop looking!" Virgil snorted as Patton flew in front of him with a grin, and Logan and Roman groaned loudly.

"Hey Patton."

"Yessum?"

"Why did the kid cross the playground?"

"Whyyyyyyy?" Roman wailed dramatically and Logan groaned again. Patton just smiled wider, showing off his missing canine.

"Why did they cross the playground?"

"To get to the other slide!" Patton's giggles were out of control at this point, and Logan and Roman couldn't be more miserable. This went on until they got to school, where Janus and Remus appeared out of nowhere.

"Hello small child!" Remus waved excitedly at Patton, and Patton returned the gesture. When Virgil first met Roman and Remus, Remus terrified Patton out of his mind. Now they were best friends. Strange how those kinds of things played out.

"Puns?" Janus asked Virgil, raising an eyebrow in the direction of the distressed teen ghosts.

"Yep."

Virgil walked into school and pushed past the many kids already there, listening to his friends talking like he wasn't there again. They learned to do this since Virgil wouldn't be able to interact with them in public places as much as at his house.

“You think Chad will start messing with the freshmen again?” Janus asked, floating by him as other kids either didn’t notice him or got out of his way with nervous/excited glances. Virgil snickered, bringing the microphone part of his earbuds closer to really convince people he was on a call.

“After last week? Not likely. He’s probably going to take a break until next week when he isn’t scared out of his mind,” Virgil said, trying not to laugh when bullies or former bullies looked at him and got as far away as possible.

When Virgil first started high school, nobody noticed him. He was just a weird kid in the back of the class who had an awesome sense of style (courtesy of Roman) even if he looked kinda goth. But when somebody was bullying a shy girl, he was quick to step in and intimidate them away. Normally he could intimidate on his own with a glare or a scowl, but a couple times the others focused their auras on the bullies which scared them immensely. Since then, he’s been a hero to people who get picked on, and a good portion of the school worshipped the ground he walked on.

Then of course, there was the small portion of bullies who immensely feared him which seemed to grow smaller whenever Virgil encountered them (the bullies. Not the part where they feared him), and an average amount didn’t really know who he was or what he did but were slowly becoming more aware of his presence.

Pretty big achievement, if you took into account it was currently the beginning of his sophomore year.

He made it to his locker while having small talk with Janus, the others trailing behind having their own conversations. He shoved his bag in and took out some books, listening to them absentmindedly before Patton cut in, talking to him directly.

“Virgie, everybody’s talkin’ about a new kid!”

“So?” He asked, getting on his tiptoes to reach a pencil from the top of his locker.

“Apparently they’re not from Louisiana!”

Virgil paused his movements, absorbing the information as a chill went down his spine. He resumed them after a second, getting the feeling of today’s not gonna be an ordinary day.

“Something is in the air,” Virgil said vaguely, inspecting the pencil as the ghosts around him stopped talking to listen. “Something that will be life changing.”

“Well that can only be so good,” Janus mumbled, ever the pessimist. Virgil only shrugged looking back up to grab one more notebook before closing the locker as the first bell rung.

“Talk to you guys later,” he said, making movements as if he was ending a call as he took his earbuds out, walking towards the next class as they followed, discussing among themselves what would happen. Virgil himself wondered what fate was going to play at today if it felt like alerting him something was happening.

Oh well, he figured, sitting down for geography. Only one way to find out.

Epilogue

The tall boy stumbled through the halls, apologizing to people as he looked between the map the office gave him and his schedule, pushing up his glasses with his shoulder.

Why couldn’t I be, I dunno, below six feet instead of above, he thought bitterly, cursing out his height internally as externally he apologized, ignoring the rushes of feelings whenever he brushed against someone else.

When he finally made it to his class, it looked like he was way earlier than he should’ve been, and the teacher smiled him.

“Ah, you must be the new student from Florida, was it?”

The boy smiled, nodding.

“Yep! I’m Emile Picani!”

#sanders sides #virgil sanders #logan sanders #thomas sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #remus sanders #janus sanders #sanders sides au #seeing shadows au #emile picani #cartoon therapy #kai’s writing #ghosts #empath

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illumynare · 4 years

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How the Enneagram explains all of Ford and Stan’s problems

….well, most of them, anyway.

So in my ongoing quest to learn all personality typing systems ever, I’ve recently started reading about the Enneagram, and it struck me that Ford and Stan both fit extremely neatly into the system, and it provides a great framework for analyzing why these two idiots can love each other so much and yet continually hurt/trigger/drive each other crazy.

(descriptions taken from the Enneagram Institute website, not linked because apparently that means this post won’t show up in the tags??)

Stan: Type 2, “The Helper”

The Caring, Interpersonal Type: Generous, Demonstrative, People-Pleasing, and Possessive

Twos are empathetic, sincere, and warm-hearted. They are friendly, generous, and self-sacrificing, but can also be sentimental, flattering, and people-pleasing. They are well-meaning and driven to be close to others, but can slip into doing things for others in order to be needed. They typically have problems with possessiveness and with acknowledging their own needs. At their Best: unselfish and altruistic, they have unconditional love for others.

Basic Fear: Of being unwanted, unworthy of being loved Basic Desire: To feel loved

This is Stan in a nutshell: somebody who loves deeply and unconditionally, sacrifices himself without a second thought, but also easily becomes possessive, and whose “helper” actions are often in some way an attempt to earn people’s love. He rescues Waddles from the pterodactyl so that Mabel will stop being mad at him, and he rescues Ford from the portal hoping that will restore the relationship they had as children. It’s not that Stan doesn’t genuinely care about Mabel or Ford’s suffering, it’s just that, on some level, he’s always trying to earn the love of the people he cares about.

Ford: Type 4, “The Individualist”

The Sensitive, Introspective Type: Expressive, Dramatic, Self-Absorbed, and Temperamental

Fours are self-aware, sensitive, and reserved. They are emotionally honest, creative, and personal, but can also be moody and self-conscious. Withholding themselves from others due to feeling vulnerable and defective, they can also feel disdainful and exempt from ordinary ways of living. They typically have problems with melancholy, self-indulgence, and self-pity. At their Best: inspired and highly creative, they are able to renew themselves and transform their experiences.

Basic Fear: That they have no identity or personal significance Basic Desire: To find themselves and their significance (to create an identity)

Feeling vulnerable and defective, yet disdainful and exempt from ordinary ways of living: if you looked up “Stanford Filbrick Pines” in the dictionary, that’s the first thing you’d see. People have argued a lot about whether Ford is arrogant and how much, but I don’t think that’s actually the most helpful way to analyze his character. Ford has, at different times, considered himself a genius, a fool, a hero, a puppet; but what never changes is that he’s obsessed with the question of his own identity, and driven by the fear he’s either a freak or a non-entity. Even at the end of Journal 3, when he finally starts to chillax, he doesn’t abandon the question of his identity and say, “Who cares if I’m a hero or not.” Instead he chooses a new identity: “I’m a hero’s brother, and I’m okay with that.”

So how does this explain their problems?

Because, as much as these two dumb idiots love each other, they have primal fears that are often at cross-purposes, and that make them hypersensitive to each other’s worst tendencies. Stan fears being unloved and alone, and at his most desperate he is willing to do anything—including literally immolate his identity—to keep his loved ones around him, or bring them back. Ford fears having no separate identity or personal significance, and at his most desperate he is willing to do anything—including cut his twin out of his life, and summon unknown spirits of insane power—to grasp that identity.

This is why I think that, even if the whole science fair debacle had never happened, they would have still had some kind of major rift. They both grew up bullied by other children, emotionally abused by their father, and without any kind of support network or healthy relationship models; I don’t think either of them had the resources, at that point, to deal with their issues in a healthy way. Stan would have tried to cling to Ford no matter what, without realizing Ford experienced it as suffocation; Ford would have tried to strike out on his own no matter what, without realizing that Stan experienced it as complete rejection.

And this dynamic is also what drives their conflict after Ford comes back through the portal. I’m thinking, particularly, of their scene at the end of “Tale of Two Stans”:

Ford: Okay, Stanley, here’s the deal. You can stay here the rest of the summer to watch the kids. I’ll stay down in the basement and try to contain any remaining damage. But when the summer’s over, you give me my house back, you give me my name back, and this Mystery Shack junk is over forever. You got it?

Stan: You really aren’t gonna thank me, are you? Fine. On one condition: you stay away from the kids; I don’t want them in danger. Cause as far as I’m concerned, they’re the only family I have left.

A lot of people have interpreted this scene as Ford planning to kick Stan out of his life and onto the streets (and written angsty fanfics accordingly). This may indeed be how Stan saw it, but I don’t think that’s a fully accurate perception. A moment before this, they’re laughing about being old men. Ford’s voice in delivering his ultimatum doesn’t read as angry or cold so much as somebody trying to put his foot down.

I think the key to Ford’s speech is the implicit link between “you can stay here the rest of the summer” and “I’ll stay down in the basement.” Ford is primarily thinking about the issue of his stolen identity: there can only be one Stanford Pines, so while he’s willing hide himself away and let Stan keep playing the role for the rest of the summer, he wants to be Stanford Pines again. He wants his own identity, and to have a say in what goes on in his house. Which is completely reasonable!

But of course, Stan is approaching this conversation from a completely different direction. He’s spent thirty years trying to save Ford, not just because of his own guilt but also because he wants their relationship back: think of how he throws his arms wide and shouts “Brother!” when Ford steps through the portal. From Stan’s point of view, Ford is saying that everything Stan suffered and accomplished is still not enough to earn his love. Which is why Stan lashes out, having finally reached the limits of his willingness to martyr himself. Objectively, it’s kind of terrible to disown your brother for not saying “thank you,” but in context it completely makes sense for Stan to react this way. (And honestly, it’s really good that he has managed to discover ONE boundary, even if he’s being petty about it.)

….but of course, Ford still doesn’t understand what’s going on in his brother’s head, so he interprets Stan’s anger as something along the lines of “how dare you want to make decisions, you should just live in my basement for the rest your life to make me happy.” Which in turn drives his hostility and posturing in later episodes (like the DD&MD game—yes, Ford was swept away by enthusiasm, but I think he was also very much trying to mark his territory when he covered the TV room in graphs.) And that just escalates Stan’s hurt and anger, creating his determination Not To Care even when the world is ending and Ford is a prisoner, and culminating in the Zodiac Fight which is hands-down the pettiest thing either of them has ever done.

What saves them is Dipper and Mabel, who remind them it’s possible for two radically different siblings to work together—and who give them something to care about outside their own tumultuous dyad. Threatened by the loss of Dipper and Mabel, they find they can still trust and understand each other well enough to pull off a desperate, last-minute con. In one way, their final gambit seems to echo their earlier patterns: Stan burns up his identity to save his family, Ford grimly makes a choice that will cut him off from his brother. But there’s an important difference: Stan doesn’t expect to get anything back from this, not admiration from the kids or love from his brother, because he doesn’t expect to be himself after. He burns the dream of the Stan-o-War along with all the rest of his memories. Ford, on the other hand, gives up all claim to being the hero, The Man Who Killed Bill Cipher; more than that, he trusts Stan to carry out that role for him.

And that’s how, after everything, they’re able to reconcile and be at peace with each other.

#stanford pines #stanley pines #gravity falls #stan pines #ford pines #enneagram #reposting to see if i can get this in the tags

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luhlust · 4 years

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Dating GOM's Sister!

Anime: Kuroko no Basuke

Overview: Headcanons about GOM (Aomine, Akashi, Kise, Kuroko, and Midorima) having a younger sister who is dating one of them!

Note: Sorry I didn't include Murasakibara! I just got really lazy. :(

•-—-•

Aomine Daiki

"I'll give you what you ever desire, break up with my sister." Akashi offered, glaring at his former tanned teammate. "Sei-nii! That's it! We're leaving." You forcefully removed Akashi's grip on your shoulder, having a silent eye battle as you slammed the door on his face. Akashi did not support you relationship, not even a bit.

Aomine is known to be a player, a pervert, and a lazy man. How could Akashi let his sister fall inlove with him? Akashi just wants the best for his sister. After a year of having a hot and cold relationship with your brother, Aomine knocked some sense into him. Needless to say, Akashi was impressed and saw no more reason to object seeing how his friend's true intention.

"I'm glad you're not the same as your brother." Aomine confesses. Although you are very identical to your older brother, you were the exact opposite of him in terms of personality. You were outgoing and emotionally-driven. Aomine did not see you for your wealth, achievements, or anything! He saw you for you, that made you fall for him despite being mean to you during the first meeting.

You were waiting for your brother so the both of you could go home together. When the gym doors ooen, you dashed towards the entrance, bumping into what seemed like a wall to you but it was actually Aomine. When you looked up, you felt chills run up to your spine, the way he glared at you, it was horrifying.

"How long are you going to sit down, brat? Move."

After that, you kept following him and pestering him even if he gave you mean comments that made you cry. Whenever you cry, Aomine panics. He'd scratch his head and say sorry multiple times, cursing, he'll offer a hug. "Stop crying or I'll kiss you." This just made you want to cry harder.

You'll help Aomine in his study and reprimands him for skipping practices. You're the only one who is allowed to correct him and he's the only one who can bully you.

If you ever did get bully, you have bodyguards ready to protect you in command, a scary powerful brother, and a tall tanned boyfriend built like he's ready to fight.

Aomine will never try to make you uncomfortable. He respects you even if he makes sexual comments, he would never push you to do something you don't like to do. That's how much he treasures you.

"(y/n), where's my kiss?" He grinned at you, bending down so you were at the same height. Rolling your eyes, he always asks for kisses before the game which you thought was very cute of him to do. Without hesitation, you kissed his lips. "Go get them, Dai-kun."

Akashi Seijuro

Dating Murasakibara's sister is not something anyone would expect from him. You are reckless, bold, and most of all childish! The complete opposite of Akashi! People can't help but question how you managed to soften the merciless captain of Rakuzan.

"Sei-kun!" Everytime you see your significant other, you would pounce on him, hugging his well-built frame. Akashi would glare at those who would stare, telling them to look away just by staring straight to their eyes.

Akashi would always give you sweets but scolds not only you, but your brother too when you both had too much. "(y/n), I love you but no. I already booked you an appointment." Akashi is persistent to have you attend a dentist appointment atleast once a month to ensure you don't develop any cavities.

When it comes to your brother, he does not really care who you date as long as they treat you well and you're happy but he is really relieved you're dating Akashi. That does not mean he won't crush him when he makes you cry.

People ridicule your relationship, especially the higher class who wants Akashi for their own benefits. Sometimes they go to the extent of hiring people to hurt you, ending up with a failure. There are several perks of having a tall brother who is excellent in basketball, one is he can easily scare of whoever is bothering you, second, you know how to defend yourself when needed.

Whenever those stuck-up bitches shows up, you can't help but show your devilish side. "Eh, I don't care. Get out of my way, bitch." Youmd play with your lollipop, staring down at the crying girl, yelling she'd sue you after you humiliated her.

Akashi will feel proud whenever you stood up for yourself, placing a soft kiss on your forehead and you'd immediately linked your arms around his neck. "Sei-kun, I'm starving~"

He'll always eat you with you, this is somehow like your love language towards one another. You sometimes even go to his school just to eat your bento that you prepared for him. His team is jealous on how a sweet and cute girl ended up dating Akashi.

They are always surprised to see Akashi showing subtle affections. Teasing him about you is a death sentence despite the fluttery feeling in his stomach. Flirting with you? That's a different story.

"(y/n), what am I going to do with you?" Akashi sighed, a smile forming on his lips. You were sleeping on the bleachers and it made him want to carry you home and skip practice but he knows you'll get mad at him if he did. He grabbed his jacketand covered your defense-less state, planting a chaste kiss on your lips. Little did he know, you were actually awake. "Ooh, I didn't know Sei-kun's a pervert!" He would ruffle your hair. "You dare to misbehave, huh? I might have to teach you a lesson, love."

Kise Ryouta

Kise is not really fond of Aomine. Sure they are friends friends but he still had grudges against him. So seeing you, beating the shit out of Aomine, that was something extraordinary. The way the sun highlighted your tanned skin and dark blue hair, Kise fell for you at first sight.

"(y/n)-cchi! I bought you some cake!" Kise always bothered you, he was clingy and chatty. You were annoyed at him at first, who wouldn't? Kise followed you everywhere like some kind of lost puppy! He cried easily was too noisy, yet when a week went by and he was no where to be found, you felt sad. You somehow missed his presence, that's when you realised, you too were inlove with him.

"(y/n)-cchi? What are you doing here..?" Kise did not expect to see you. It was raining heavily and you were drenched from head to toe. Kaijou just lost to Seirin, Kise was feeling down for his first loss. All his own issues faded when you grabbed him by his collar, pressing your lips against his.

Kise's eyes widened, you pulled away, placing your hands on both sides of his face. "Who told you to leave me alone? Huh?! Can't you see I like you too?" He blinked, several times, unable to register what just happened.

"Eh...Ehhhh?!"

Kise became 1000x more clingy after that.

His fangirls are difficult to handle. They always picked a fight on you, saying how you do not meet the Kise's standards. You don't give a fuck of whatever they say about you, you actually enjoy how they cowered in fear and bite back their words whenever you'd look at them with a smirk.

One thing that pissed you off though is when they made nasty comments about your boyfriend. You stopped in your tracks, fist clenched, you turned back, launching your fist towards the girl. She screamed and closed her eyes, waiting for the impact, you stopped your fist an inch away from her face. She fell on the floor, her friends made a run for it.

"Aplogise, bitch." She apologised immediately before scampering away, you'd sigh. "Such a pain in the ass.."

Kise knows about your "little fights" since Kasamatsu actually witnessed the whole thing. He feels honored and proud that his girlfriend stood up for him, your cuts and bruises on the other hand angered him. Kise always made sure to keep you out of trouble after that.

Kise is the only one who can calm you down, only one who can make you smile and act stupid. Your his partner in crime, his princess and his knight, he is very grateful to have you.

Despite how strong you can be, Kise can also fight for you if needed. You need him more than he needs you, without him, everything is off balance.

Aomine bullies him more now that he's your boyfriend.

"(y/n)-cchi! Aomine-cchi is being mean to me!"

"DAMN IT DAIKI! LEAVE HIM ALONE!"

When the two of you are together, that's the only time you are vulnerable. In his arm you feel safe, he felt like home.

"I love you, dumbass."

Kuroko Tetsuya

The whole Seirin team was stunned to see you, sitting on one of the bleachers absorbed in your phone. Kagami's eyes widened, he recognises you! "S-She's (y/n)! A model in the US!" He exclaimed, making the rest more confused on why someone like you is in their gym right now. Even Riko could not dare to get closer, everyone stood frozen once you glanced at them, staring at them one by ine before your face lit up.

You stood up, smiling widely, before waving. "Kuro-tan! I missed you!" Kuroko coughed, excusing himself as he pass through the crow, greeting you with open arms which you gladly run into. "(y/n)-chan, you didn't tell me you were arriving today."

You would explain to the whole team that you're Kuroko's girlfriend and confirm that you are a model from the US. One thing that caught the team off guard is when Riko asked you if you were somehow related to Kise Ryouta.

"Kise..? Ryou-nii? Yes he's my brother."

The team bombarded you with questions, you were now getting slightly overwhelmed by them. You held out to your boyfriend looking at him teary eyed, he immediately know what you're feeling. "Everyone, you're scaring (y/n)-chan."

Once everything died down, you watched their practice, cheering for your cute boyfriend with Nigou. After practice, Kuroko and you would eat at Majii Burger, catching up and deep talks.

That's where you confessed that you won't go back to the US anymore and transfer to his school. You resigned from your position in the entertainment industry and will now focus on being a (career choice) instead.

Kuroko is the type of boyfriend who is kind of like a dog, he is super loyal to you and no matter what you do as long as it doesn't hurt anyone around you or you, he supports. He may be seen as emotionless but to you, he show all kinds of emotions, love, happiness, jealousy, and he gets super cute when embarrassed.

You always cling on to him, yelling his name with love everytime you see him, crying easily and him comforting you everytime. The team takes a like to you too, you're not really that difficult to get along with.

Riko would ask for help in their training regimen, Kagami also likes hanging out with the two of you (he'll get angry when you get too pda and overbearing though). Overall, you were like their cute little sister who they protect.

So whenever someone gets close to you, as you are famous with both boys and girls, they'll spring inti action and help you out.

You may not be as strong as others mentally and physically, you won't back down when the people you love are messed upon.

When Hanamiya glared at Kuroko, you glared 1000x harder than him. Especially when they hurt , oh you knew you had to talk to him, you stomped your way to their side of the court. You put your best smile, calling him out. "Hanamiya-san, can I shake your hand. I am a fan."

He would snicker, holding out his hand with a few flirty remarks. When you grabbed his hand though, you crushed it using all your strength and he whimpered in pain. Hanamiya cursed, holding his hand. "Oops, did I squeezed too hard?"

He was ready to fight you but seeing several eyes on him, the whole GOM, and Seirin team watching him, he decided not to push further.

Kuroko would scold you though, flicking your forehead before kissing it.

3 words. Best. Boyfriend. Ever.

One thing you hated was sharing Kuroko with your brother. "Ryou-nii! We're supposed to make out now! Get out!"

Midorima Shintaro

A Tsundere and a Phantom, what a perfect couple. Kidding. Midorima never thought about dating, the idea of love is not something he minded but when you spiked the ball directly into his face and breaking his glasses, he fell for you, literally.

"Oh, Midorima-kun, sorry!"

Just like your brother, Kuroko, you don't have a lot of presence. He actually taught you how to master misdirection which is a useful skill in your sport, Volleyball. It just happened that you're enrolled in Shutoku and was practicing your one-man spike while he walked into the court.

After that, you kept talking to him. You did not have a lot of friends except for your teammates and you saw Midorima as like your second brother.

Midorima would never admit that he likes you until Takao began to get close to you.

"(y/n)-san, Ilikeyounandayo."

You'd tease him with Takao, copying the way he acts. You'll learn more about horoscopes and oh asa and would always surprise him infront of his house with his lucky item for the day.

Although Midorima is not affectionate, he'll try his best to make you feel that he loves you in his own little way. He would even learn to play volleyball just to play with you. He's a great setter!

Your go to dates would be study hubs, museums, and stargazing.

Since you're very small compated to him, Midorima likes to hold your hand just so you won't get lost. "Shintaro, we're the only ones here." He'd flinched and stammer upon realising you are the only one walking around the park.

Kuroko knows your dating ever since the first day. Kuroko is always there to listen to your rants about your day so it is not a surprise when he sees Midorima eating with your family, stiff like a rock.

"Midorima-kun? Are you okay?" He asked and all of the eyes are now own Midorima who just wanted to crawl to a hole and never come back.

You would go to all his games, offering him a towel. He'll get startled whenever you show up out of the blue though. Takao always teases the two of you which ends up into Midorima beating him up.

Dating Midorima as Kuroko's sister is plain chill, no drama or anything. Both are honest and mindful.

Getting used to hanging out with 2 phantoms would be something he needs to get used to.

"(y/n)?! WHERE'D YOU GO?"

"Shintaro, I'm right infront of you."

#kuroko no basuke #kuroko's basketball #knb scenarios #knb boyfriend #kuroko tetsuya #akashi seijuro #midorima shintaro #aomine daiki #kise ryouta #anime #knb

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