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risuola · 4 months

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III — GAMBARE, GAMBARE // In the world of crime and blood, Sukuna knows what's off limits. You certainly are one of those things and yet, he's unable to stop thinking of you.

contents: smut, little angst-ish in some places, mafia!au, unprotected sex, a hint of body worshipping, violence, mentions of death, subtle threats, reader discretion is advised — 3,2k words

a/n: third part, thank you so much for support guys! it means the world to me to see how INSANELY big is the tag list now. i literally love y'all~ ❤️ also, just as the first part got inspired by the absolutely menacing quote from our king, it only felt natural to include the famous gambare, gambare (do your best) into this one.

ᴅᴇᴀᴅʟʏ ᴀᴛᴛʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ | masterlist

Sukuna prefers to think of himself as one of significant intelligence. Over the years, during which he ruled over the entire criminal milieu, he proved himself to stand atop of anyone who dared to even think of overturning his jurisdiction. All the exceptionally dumb bold ones that once wished to take the position of a boss from his hands had learned the hard way why troubles with Sukuna Ryomen are the least desirable fate of anyone who bears any volume of oil inside their brains.

It’s not only tactical or business intelligence that he’s priding himself with. It’s also the excessive knowledge about general rules of life that allowed him to comfortably push and pull the edges of what’s right and wrong, bending his own reality to his liking. Now it’s intuitive – he just knows where he can put more pressure and where it’s not worth his time. He knows what to bet his money on and what won’t realistically pay back. And most importantly, up until that point, Sukuna thought he can tell with his eyes closed which people he should consider crossing paths with, what men can be useful whilst he aims to reach his targets and which crowds he shouldn’t mess around with – for various reasons, most of which being just business and inconvenience. Same thing concerns women. Ryomen’s position works like a magnet and not a day passes by without girls, often way too young to even think of him, throwing themselves at him, led by fantasies of money and power veiled in the shades of love. If he wished, he could have a different toy every time the night falls and if he’d be just slightly less trained, he might have fallen for the temptation. But he didn’t.

Sukuna learned it from experience, not exactly his own, but of his pawns, that allowing random women in the proximity of their profession usually leads to catastrophes. Girls get persistent, they grow attached, they fall in love sooner than it’s even logical and then they threat, they blackmail; all of which eventually leads to their deaths because dealing with just barely adults that weaponize tears and screams is something he doesn’t allow in his circle. There were no exceptions, any man bearing similar power to Ryomen knows that there’s no place for romance in the world of death and bones, the one that’s stained in red and sorrow. If there happens to be love, it’s always of people from inside the criminal circle, sharing the same set of broken morals. Mafia should never tie itself romantically with civilians. Especially him, the leader, the menace that he is in the world of misdeed, murder and corruption, knew all too well why he should never, ever, even think of someone from outside of his tale as of anything more than one time plaything. That would be irresponsible, straight up naïve. It would be foolish. He knew all of that and not even once he felt any need to engage into any kind of relationship with someone that he deemed non-profitable to his general targets.

Then why the fuck he kept thinking of you? Why he kept seeing you after what was supposed to be a fun one-time fuck? Why did the taste of your lips and the sweet scent of your skin made him so completely addicted that he couldn’t focus on his own business without his mind wandering to the memory of you at least once an hour? He just liked your body, he told himself every time he thought of sending you a message. You were a good lay, it was purely physical. You did, after all, take his dick like you were born solely for this very purpose. He was meeting you only for sex and it was an accident that some of these meetings began with a dinner. All of the gifts he showered you with were just a form of payment for the service. Sukuna knew much better than to let his emotions take control of him.

“What’s on your mind?” Your quiet voice tore Ryomen out of the realm of his self-criticism. The tone that you spoked with was raspy, the testimony of the rough, throat-fucking he had used you for just few hours prior, and yet, it still somehow flowed with cottony softness, so characteristic to you.

“Nothing important,” he replied bluntly, lowering his gaze to where your face was buried into the broad muscle of his chest; your frame completely hidden in his own, much larger and stronger. It was another night you spent in his house, one of those that began with the reservation in one of Tokyo’s best restaurants that served traditional Japanese cuisine. You showed up in a dress made of dark olive silk, long enough to reach your high-heeled sandals and clinging to your shapes as if it was made to be worn over the divinity that was your body. The long, scandalous slit exposed one of your legs and the thin straps accentuated your shoulders and cleavage just perfectly. It was a dress that he himself bought and ordered to be delivered to you in an expensive box before that day. Now that very same gown was laying somewhere, discarded on the floor in the living room of his mansion.

“Sometimes I feel like you’re plotting my death,” you chuckled against his skin, the vibration of the act made him scoff because both him and you knew that the scenario you offered wasn’t exactly falling into the realm of fiction.

“If I were to kill you, I wouldn’t need to plot it. One bullet is all it would take,” he retorted with calm and despite any logic, instead of creating some distance, instead of running away you hummed at his statement and pressed your lips to the center of his chest.

You were way over fearing Sukuna and his world. The few months that you spend seeing him, you came to terms with the heavy weight of tragic fate that was now resting on your shoulders. It couldn’t end well, you shouldn’t tangle yourself with a man such as him, the path of your normal life should never come even close to the blood tainted one he was walking through. You should have never left the club with him and once you did, you should have run out his house the moment he gave you a chance. Instead of that, you stayed. That night, after the time of Ryomen’s pursue and the unfortunate event with Naoya and his gang, soon turned into two. Then just few more and then many more. The one-night stand evolved into continuous romance and though it was strewn with roses and intimacy, it came also with the realization that the more you see him, the less days you have left. There was no way for someone like you, an outsider, the mere civilian with no mafia bonds whatsoever, to be living a long life. Sukuna has enemies, there are people that want the power he holds and will eventually target you. That is, of course, if he doesn’t kill you himself over time – out of boredom or prevention. You knew a lot, he had told you more than he should.

But you loved him. You had seen him do some pretty dark things that would make most people’s eyes water, and in all honesty, it did the same thing to yours, but then, with you, Sukuna was always protective. You loved the way he always seemed to know just what you needed, the way he read you like an open book and knew just what to say or do to put you at ease. You loved the way he made you feel like the only woman in the world, how he made you feel beautiful, even on the days you felt like a total mess. He was a danger, a threat so deadly you shouldn’t play with it, he was a flame that you were bound to burn yourself on, but he was also the only person in the world you felt so safe around. Ever since you met, he had protected you. Even if his words were harsh and his own deeds rough, he never failed to envelop you in a bubble inside of which nothing and no one could hurt you.

“Oh, how much you’d miss me,” a certain sense of amusement hinted in the tone you used as the sheepish smile stretched your lips. Ryomen acted suddenly, grabbing the tiny thing that was your body and pressing your back to the mattress. His fingers wrapped around the frail of your neck; it wouldn’t take much of his strength to snap it and yet, you seemed rather comfortable with his grip secured around your airways. Over the time you managed to grow enough trust to know he won’t hurt you for no reason. Your lover was a man powerful enough, there was no need for seeding fear in you. You were also smart enough to differentiate the real danger from the playful acts. If Sukuna truly wanted you to be scared, you most definitely would be scared shitless.

“You think so?” His tone dropped an octave as he crawled above you; your bare figure now trapped underneath the weight of his presence. He got your legs between his initially, the heavy shaft of his dick rested over your lower belly as he shifted his hand from your throat down to cup your breasts. Your body seemed to never stop attract him, no matter how many times he touched and tasted it. You looked almost angelic in the dim light of that morning; the remnants of sleep still painted over your features and the only things that disturbed the innocence of your picture were the marks he had left on your plush, velvety skin. Red and angry spots that he sucked onto your flesh adorned the beauty of your frame, ultimately making you his own. “Aren’t you a little too confident?”

“I think I’m confident just enough,” you grinned playfully, smoothing over his hands, one staying on top of his palm on your breast and the other reaching up his arm to touch more of him. There was always a hunger lingering inside of you, you were never completely satiated and even if your body was utterly exhausted, you were always happy to take more. Sukuna made you feel ecstatic, like you were really his only one and though it was an illusion that you chose to believe in, it felt good to imagine yourself as his only care.

“And why would I miss you, huh? Aren’t you only a plaything for me?” The question he asked was meant to sound venomous but the sound of his voice betrayed the lighthearted intention. “Do you think I’ll blink twice when discarding you when I get bored of what you can give me?”

“I don’t think you’ll hesitate,” a chuckle once again shook your chest gently as you watched how Sukuna gently pulled your legs up from underneath him and brought one of your ankles to his face. The kisses he smeared along your shin were delicate, completely contrasting with the threatful impression that he was trying to make. He was worshipping you so openly, it made you blush every time. “But even though I know you wouldn’t think twice before killing me, I also think you’d miss me afterwards.”

Once the tender caresses finished, your calves landed on top of his shoulders as he leaned forward, squeezing a breathy moan out of you as he pushed his length into you to the very base of it, sliding on enough spit that it made the entrance easy. Ryomen learned your body through and through, he knew you can take it, he knew you’re always ready and eager to take him. Even if it’s early, even if it hurts. No matter when and where, if he told you to sit on his dick in the middle of a grocery store, you’d probably do just that and ask no questions. And yet, he knew where the boundaries are. Not once he pushed you when you were feeling bad. Not once he used you when you were not ready. The knowledge he now had about you came from observation.

“I think I would miss you,” he purred, his lips so close that they brushed against yours as he spoke. He’s got you in a mating press, filled to the brim with his bricked-up manhood and completely at his mercy. “You are addicting.”

“So keep me safe,” you whispered, cupping his face and chasing the kiss he was yet to give you. The request caught him slightly off guard. The pleading undertone made his heart clench; a feeling that he’s gone without for a decade at least and though he hated the odd sensation in his chest, he also couldn’t deny the warmth that spread throughout his body.

“You are safe with me,” the reassuring lie he followed with a heavy press onto your lips, sealing his words with his own tongue and silently promising you his protection. A vow that he wished to keep and yet, feared he won’t be able to. But now, it wasn’t important. Now you were here, in his bed, on his dick. Now there was just you and him.

Your dainty fingers found their place in his hair as he began thrusting into you. The new slick that combined with the remnants of the night made his movements easy as he dragged his hips back almost all the way out and then pushed back to the point of his pelvis clashing with the back of your thighs and your ass. The pace he set wasn’t fast. It wasn’t anything of what he’d most often pick, there was no violence intertwined into the melody of his hips. That morning it was sensual, it was deep and just rapid enough to stimulate every sweet spot inside of you. Stroke after stroke he was driving you crazy, he just barely started and already you felt yourself dripping. The filthy, wet sounds filled in the early aura and the muffled moans and whimpers accompanied them.

Sukuna allowed your legs to fall lower from where they were pressed against your chest and you hooked them around his hips. The newly earned access to his neck and shoulders you immediately used by allowing your hands to wander in the area, scratching his skin just to force a low purr from his throat. Every sound he made, you swallowed greedily as the kiss continued. Your tongues were dancing to the fiery rhythm of intimacy.

The coil in your stomach tightened all too quickly, you wished it to give you more time to enjoy what he was willing to give you but no matter how much you wanted your body to calm down, he made it absolutely impossible to achieve. Your veins were running with pure ecstasy and lust, the heated flurry that now was your brain was focused only on him, on the rhythm of his hips, on every sweet little lie that he whispered to you. Ryomen knew how to make you weak, he knew just how to angle his body to hit that one spot, the most sensitive one and you could feel him grinning against your lips. He knew you were close. The delicious squeezes that your cunt did on his girth were enough of a hint to notice and it gave him a sense of pride to be able to make you come undone so easily.

“Just few moments more,” he murmured and you nodded eagerly. Tears prickled in your eyes, gathering along your lash lines like crystals that he wished to kiss away, but was now too engulfed in the taste of your lips to part. His movements got quicker, just a little heavier as he began slamming into you with more force than at the beginning. Mornings tend to rid Sukuna from the ability to last – the ones that he spends with you in his arms, with your naked body pressed against his, unknowingly shifting against his dick for hours. That makes him unable to keep his composure for too long. Sometimes he feels like you strip him of all qualities that he once prided himself in, leaving him bare only to your eyes, with only the most primal needs exposed and he felt good with that kind of freedom.

“…don’t stop, oh god, ‘kuna~”, you were whimpering, arching your back underneath him and squeezing your little hands over his shoulders. “I can’t, I—”

“Oh, you can. Do your best,” Sukuna chuckled, teasing you with such impossible tasks. Your head fell back, your thighs were trembling against his sides and he could tell he’s losing you. You were far too deep in the realm of desire to hear his words; all of your world now came down to what you felt, to how you felt him and Sukuna loved your blissed out state. He loved the way he was the one to push you so far over the edge that you wouldn’t notice if the world was ending. But what he loved above that, was how you were gripping onto him; holding him tightly, pulling him closer as if you never wanted him to move away, as if he was everything you needed. And he was.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he muttered against your throat, painting the skin over there with wet trails of kisses and new, red marks – the ones gentle enough to fade in a matter of hours. You moaned something incoherent. “Cum for me,” he allowed, not even sure if you’re registering his words. It had to be unconscious; the way your brain caught his voice between the blurry lines of everything else.

Your climax hit you like a rock; his name was slipping over your tongue continuously, so sweet and breathless that Sukuna was once again reassured that he never wants to hear anyone else calling him. Your walls were squeezing his throbbing length, he twitched and flexed inside you, groaning with satisfaction and before he allowed himself to come, he pushed himself up. As he sat on his heels, he pulled you with him; your body now on top of him and he used his hands to guide your hips up and down his dick. You wrapped yourself around him, finding a safe space for your face right where his neck connects with his muscular shoulder and all he needed to feel the bliss was the sensation of your teeth sinking into his skin.

White seed painted your insides as he shot it as deeply as he could reach with you on top of him. Few more moves, few more groans and you could feel him relax. His strong arms snaked around your waist as he shifted slightly to lean against the headboard, straightening his legs in front of him. You stayed pressed against his chest, catching your breath and feeling the tension leaving your body as the morning went by. And as Sukuna held you so close to his heart, he couldn’t rid himself of the feeling that it felt so right and that made the question bloom inside his brain. Was it still strictly physical? Was it ever only about sex?

taglist: @yihona-san06 @tiredscavengerskeleton @son4aras @vixorell @cecesharktales @isleqt @thickmacandcheese @captainchrisstan @bbylime @sad-darksoul @shartnart1 @kiki17483 @grimreaqueer @phoenix-eclipses @fan-of-encouragement @valleydoll @aleeeeeeees-stuff @marifujioka @going-to-californiaxx @just-pure-trash @edenofeve @impulsivethoughtsat2am @thigh-o-saur @heyohalie @matchat3a @bubblearts @littlemisspropaganda @aconstructofamind @lawislife18 @rzcnlb @sunukissed

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semisolidmind · 3 months

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About the cartoon episode dreams.

What if when the other Smiling Critters show up in them, they kinda... act/react out of character for a second. Before getting back into character and smiling again. Some are wistful, and glad that at least one of them survived. Others are kinda salty that Catnap, of all critters, is one of the ones that survived after all he did. (Nothing more than like a brief gasp, them just pausing to stare in horror at the Catnap innocently perching on Y/N's shoulder, or a sad sigh and somber expression before snapping back into place.)

Just something ever so slightly amiss about those Red Smoke induced dreams.

exactly what i was thinking

like, the very first "episode" that y/n experiences is their introduction into the critters' world. they're found, dazed and confused in the woods, by dogday, who of course wants to help them and introduce them to his friends. they wander the woods for a bit, y/n following dogday and listening to him talk about how neat all his friends are. there's something...sad about it, but y/n has no idea why.

after walking a ways, dogday stops suddenly. he's flung an arm out in front of y/n to stop them too, almost protectively. he stares wide-eyed and completely still at a tree to their left. his ever present grin turns down at the edges, and he goes quiet. y/n follows his line of sight to a branch higher up.

a purple cat snoozes in the tree, his long tail dangling in the open air. it flicks occasionally. he seems to sense the presence of our heroes, because he slowly opens his eyes, stretching before turning towards them. his smile grows at the sight of his friend, and he tilts his head curiously at the new arrival standing next to him.

y/n feels a chill down their spine at his stare. they don't know why, but...they feel like they need to run.

then dogday says a cheery hello, seemingly broken out of his trance, and ease returns to the scene. the cat, introduced as dogday's best buddy catnap, comes down from the tree. he silently stares at y/n as dogday introduces them, a big smile on his face. y/n greets him nicely, and after a beat, the cat takes hold of y/n's hand. they get the feeling he's saying that he's ready to go. dogday laughs at his friend's silly ways, grabs y/n's other hand, and leads the group on.

the trio continues through the woods, dogday and y/n laughing and carrying on while catnap remains silent. y/n can feel him intermittently squeezing their fingers or rubbing his thumb on the back of their palm, feeling the bones underneath. they wonder if he or his friends have ever seen a human before.

after a short while, the two critters and their new friend come upon a clearing with a cluster of adorably themed houses. y/n, amused, figures the scratching post and the dog house are the homes of their two new little buddies.

in a big circle in the clearing, a group of critters similar to their two companions are happily playing.

they see a rabbit and a bird playing soccer, an elephant and a unicorn scribbling on some paper and painting at an easel, and a bear and a pig seemingly setting up a picnic. it looks nice. it's a beautiful day for all of them, and they all look so content. y/n feels a pang in their chest.

they want to cry, and they're not sure why.

dogday notices, and gently squeezes their hand. he says nothing, but the sad, shaky smile he gives them speaks volumes.

it's quickly gone when the rabbit notices him and calls his name. the other critters look up as well, a myriad of hellos raising a joyous cadence in the air. they all look so happy to see dogday. their curiosity at y/n is apparent as well, asking who they are and where they come from. the critters all have questions about them, and y/n does their best to answer them.

then catnap steps out from behind y/n's back.

the group of critters all go silent.

they all stare at him; some horrified, some angry. not even a breath is taken in at the sight of the drowsy feline. if catnap is put off by his friend's reactions to him, he makes no indication. though his grip on y/n's hand tightens.

but then the critters snap back to attention. it's almost like they've all decided unanimously to ignore catnap altogether. he doesn't react, his gaze trained on y/n just like the others. his grin hasn't moved.

the critters introduce themselves. bubba, crafty, hoppy, kickin, picky, and bobby. y/n feels like they know them all already. after dogday informs them all that y/n is trying to find a way home, the critters agree that they'll do what they can to help.

the episode ends in static.

y/n wakes up.

———

–more thoughts; dogday, catnap, and y/n are the ones who feel the strangeness of the dreams the most. the other critters have their moments, but not as often. otherwise most of the dialogue is pretty standard for a kids cartoon.

– another sad thought is that in each dream, the other smiling critters start to dissapear, one by one, confusing dogday and y/n (catnap seems...unresponsive. he also tends to dissapear when the others do, but comes back). they try and try to find them, but they're nowhere to be found. eventually, dogday and catnap are the only ones left. dogday has been getting angrier and angrier at catnap, and he's not sure why. the cat remains as pleasantly lackadaisical as always, though at times his grin seems to freeze and pupils seem to shrink.

–each critter gets an episode where they try to help y/n and y/n helps them in some way. each one would have y/n giving advice on how to solve a problem, using the cutout dialogue from the game as inspiration for the problems the critters face. helping bubba remember something he forgot, helping kickin overcome a fear, helping crafty finish a painting she struggles with, find bobby when she gets lost, helping hoppy reach a goal, helping picky try something new.

after a critter has their own episode, they dissapear.

#ooooooooh the angst potential is through the roof #yn and dogday are gonna go through so much more hurt #poppy playtime

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spider-man-199999 · 1 year

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Paris to Tokyo

pairing: college!Peter Parker x Reader: 18+; academic rivals to lovers

word count: 5K

warnings: smut; slight angst; unpotected sex

summary: You start your new life at college, expecting it to be the most exciting time of your life, only to be met with Peter Parker, who decided to dedicate his free time to making your life a living hell

a/n: I've been dying to write an enemies to lovers type of fic, it's also my first time writing anything with suggestive content in it, so bear with me please. The heading is the most random thing I could come up with I'm sorry

College was the place you were looking forward to the most since you graduated high school. It was supposed to be a place where you met people with similar interest, went out with them to have fun and engage in intellectual converstaions. And it was exactly like that, for the most part. Growing up as a natuarally intelligent kid had you been putting little to no effort in school and always got you good grades. This quickly escalated into you trying a bit harder with each test and striving for more academic validation. At some point you even managed to become the best student in your class. But sitting hours on end on a desk and studying was still something very foreign to you. Sure, you would revise from time to time on topics that were harder to remember or things you couldn't recall from class, but it never went further than that. And maybe a degree in Biophysic was not the wisest idea given that backgroung. So, when college came around and you started the new classes on topics your common knowledge could barely help you keep up with, things went downhill very fast. For the first time you were faced with faliure, hard work and putting hours on end to study. It felt like everyone around you was more knowledgeable, more prepared, more educated on literally any topic that was discussed in and outside of class. Being at the bottom of the academic foodchain was mildy infuriating, to say the least.

And after the first few months of sleepless nights, filling up all of the holes so you could catch up to speed, you finally did it, and it felt more rewarding than anything else. This assisted you into making casual conversations with so many people from your different classes, one of them even inviting you to a study group that had been going on for months. You happily agreed to that idea, thinking it would be the best way to keep up with everyone in the class, not only academically but socically as well.

The day of the study group finally arrived on what seemed like the most normal, yet the most exciting Tuesday. They added you to a groupchat, everyone texting back and forth until all of you had agreed to go grab a coffee before heading to the library. You had tried your best to look presentable for this study date, putting on some white wide-leg dress pants and a neat navy blue t-shit that hugged your body very well. You hair was in a sleek bun, having a white buttonup because the weather was slightly chilly. Almost everyone had arrived there on time, which took you by surprise since you were used to being the only one being on time. After the cheerful greeting and formally learning everyone's names, you went inside and grabbed a coffee, returning to them promptly. You stood by the door, since the group had formed a circle around the entrance of the small shop.

"Was I the last one?" You asked concerned, looking around and counting the people.

"Actually, we're waiting for Peter" Someone said, everyone giggling softly and shaking their head.

"Who's Peter?" You asked, and as soon as you did, you felt something push againt your shoulder, sending you a step forward so you wouldn't come crashing down from losing your balance.

"I'M SO SORRY" you heard from behind you, turning around to see a boy with a worried expression on his face, paper cup in his hand. He was handsome, hair pushed back, warm eyes and nervous smile, leather jacked over a black t-shirt.

"That's Peter" someone stated, pulling you out of your trance. Peter chuckled, moving past you and motioning for everyone to go, since he was the one you all had been waiting for.

On the walk there you kept staring at the back of Peter's head, annoyed that he pushed you with the door, frusrated because he didn't even bother to introduce himself to you. Not that he really had to, you already knew well enough who he was. The guy who always came in rushing because he was late, somehow still managed to sit directly in front of you, blocking your view, no matter where you sat. He was the guy that would beat you to every question, the one who would always have the best grade on the tests. He leaned way too back in his seat, back pressed to your desk, pushing it, as you would try to keep up with writing everything down. And he would always ask you for a pen, every single time.

The study room was spacious and bright, it had a big round table for everyone to sit at, as well as two whiteboards and plenty or outlests for chargers and what not. It looked like the perfect place to study with a large group, excluding the fact Peter was there as well. You all took random seats around the table, Parker sitting across from you, almost as if it were on purpose. You held back an eye roll when he smiled at you cockily, making you look away and take out your laptop and notebook from your bag. The screen managed to block out most of Peter's face if you sink into your seat low enough. The conversation in the room flowed naturally, it was so interesting and engaging and you were having a blast speaking to these people. Soon enough all of you had solved the first homework questions, you quickly grabbing a pen and writing it down in your notebook. As you were in the middle of writing, an outside force closed your laptop. Your eyes looked at the laptop, seeing a pale male hand, fingers spread. You stared at it for a few seconds, noticing how pretty the hand actually was, long and straight fingers, follwed by a slim wrist and a muscular forearm. Your gaze trailed the hand up to Peter's face, looking into his eyes with annoyance already.

"Hey, do you-" before he even managed to finished his sentence, you had taken out a pen from your pencil case and placed it on your laptop, next to his hand.

"Thank you" he muttered, you not even looking back at him. This routine, as much as it was annoying, gave you some kind of comfort as well.

"How come you never have a pen with you?" You asked after a while, your curiosity getting the better of you.

"Oh, well actually I do have one, it's easier to just use yours"

''Unbelieveble"

"Come on, like you would ever need a second pen for anything"

You hovered over the table and grabbed the pen from his hand in a swift motion, he looked a bit taken a back, as well as the few people following your interaction.

"Actually, I need it now" you said, putting the one you were using away and continuing your writing with the one you just got back from him.

"You're being unbelieveble now" He said slightly irritated, reaching to get his won pen from his backpack.

"The two of you, cut it out, you're acting like children!" someone shushed you, making you blush when you realised it wasn't just you and the curly-haired boy in the room.

You gulped softly, mummbling a sorry to everyone as you kept writing down.

"Us cut it out? She was the one acting like a child, making a big deal out of a pen!" Peter whined and complained, starting to write down things in his notebook after he got a few angry glares from other people.

Around the time the group got to the third and final question for the homework you were feeling confident enough to try to contribute to the assignment.

"So you're basically saying that principle of hemodialysis is the same as other methods of dialysis - it involves diffusion of solutes across a semipermeable membrane?" you asked, as you were brainstorming through the question.

"Oh come on, y/n, this is the easiest question so far!'' Peter said, leaning froward, his arms crossed in front of his chest. Ever since the pen situation, he's been worse than ever before, taking every opportunity to show of how much smarter he was, followed by a cocky smirk.

"Intermittent dialysis therapy is used in chronic uremia to re-establish body water solute concentrations that cannot be achieved by the natural organ. In this sense, the dialyzer becomes an artificial kidney and it is through the transport of substances by this device that chemical and biophysical control consistent with continued survival is achieved." He explained, solving the question for you.

"She had it figured out, you could have let her be" Someone you didn't remember the name of said to him, making Peter's head turn in that direction.

"She obviously didn't, keep in mind her highest grade is my lowest" He snapped back.

You could feel the tension in the atmosphere thicken with each second, things were about to escalate very quickly. His words stung a bit and you felt something like a ball stuck in your throat after he said them. He didn't know how much work you had put in and he was incosiderate enough to just assume the worst of you. Before things managed to get any further, or worse, out of control, you slammed your thick notebook shut.

"Since Peter was kind enough to solve the last question, I think I'm going to call it a night" you said, fighting back the tears. Your voice gave you away as it wa slightly shaky, earning a few sympatheric looks.

You shoved your things in the bag as quickly as you as possible and walked out, trying to get as far away as possible. You were trying not to break down the whole walk back to your dorm, bitting your lip, brushing away some stray tears that ran down your cheeks with your sleeve. You were mentally blaming yourself for everything, for not walking fast enough, for not knowing enough, for deciding to join the study group, for even deciding on this degree to begin with. By the time you made it to your room, your phone was already blown up by text messages from Natalie, the person who originally invited you. She was a small blonde, blue-eyed beauty that was just as smart as she was pretty. You could bet on your own life that she was class president and the prom queen in high school. She was more than kind to you this whole time and her text messages suggested that she was worried about you too. With a quick click you deleted all the messages from your notification centre and threw the phone on your bed, followed by your bag. Hot tears ran down your face, breathing heavily as you were preactically sobbing at this point. You sat down on the floor, not being able to hold in the frustrstion anymore as you finally broke down, letting all of the shame, pain and anger flow out of your system through your tears.

A couple of hours had gone by, your tears were dried up on your face and neck as you lay on the floor and stared at the ceiling. Your phone kept buzzing from time to time and you finally gathered the emotional strenght to reply to the messages. Sitting on the bed, you unlocked the device and scrolled through the unred chats. The groupchat had sent the written solutions for the questions. Natalie had probably sent you 20 messages apologising and asking if you were okay. The guy who defended you had also sent you a message. His name was Brad and he looked like any normal person did. You texted him first, thanking him for standing up for you even though he did not need to do that. After him it was Natalie, who called you immediately after you hit send to reply to her first message. You picked up hesitantly, since you knew your voice was definitely going to sound like you had been crying.

"I am so sorry for everything! If I knew you and Peter were on bad terms I wouldn't have done this to you" She immediately spat out

"It's okay, I we aren't on bad terms, well... weren't"

"Have you been crying?"

"No..."

"I'm really sorry! I spoke to him after the whole thing, he's usually nothing like this! He himself couldn't explain why he acted like this"

"Nat, I really, really don't care"

"He said he wanted to make it up to you! He asked me himself for your number and your dorm room!"

"Please tell me you didn't give him any of that information"

"Well..."

"Oh my god now he knows where I live" you whined, bringing your knees up to your chest and hugging them.

"He wanted to apologise! He looked very sincere and worried"

"Yes, all the psychopaths do, that's why they're so hard to recognize!"

"I'm sure he wouldn't just show up at your door trying to make amends, you'll be fine, plus he's a really cool dude, give him a chance to prove he's not an asshole"

"He had his chance, it was today"

After you two said your goodbyes and hung up, you deicided it was finally time to take a relaxing shower. As you walked out, you heard a knock on your door. Still wrapped in a towel, one hand holding it in place, you opened the door to a Peter Parker, leaning on the doorframe. You blinked a few times rapidly, trying to process what you were seeing.

"Why are you here?" You asked, after carefully calculating your tone and your words

"You weren't picking up your phone" he replied, trying to step a foot inside. You blocked his action with the door.

"I didn't say you could come in"

"Can I come in then?"

"No, good night Parker" With that you tried closing the door on him but he grabbed it, not letting you close it.

"Look, I'm here to apologise for what I said earlier. You don't have to forgive me"

"And I don't, go Peter"

He looked shatter at your words looking into his brown eyes, you almost felt sympathy for him, like he really did feel sorry about what he did. Despite that, you kept your composure, looking at him with all the resentmet you had for him, a sigh leaving his lips as he let go of the door. He didn't need superpowers to know he fucked up, so he left. And you on the other hand, were more devistated than before, but your ego was bruised and your self-esteem ruined. The only person, no matter how annoying, you didn't want to think less of you, thought less of you. Yes, it was good that he wanted to apologise but this was not going to undo his words and the image he obviously had. You didn't even know if the apology really was his idea or was forced on him by the others in the group. You shook you head, dismissing the thoughts as you got ready to sleep. Sleep always helped with heavy emotions and you hoped you would feel better in the morning.

A few weeks went by and you still refused to forgive Peter for what he said. In your heart, you knew he was really sorry at this point but you enjoyed his suffering as you roasted him slowly on low heat. He tried all the cliché ways, buying flowers, chocolates, stuffed animals, buying you coffee before every study date. Your neighbours were convinced that the two of you were dating and would always ask about him when you gathered in one of the rooms to eat together or drink. You denied that but they rolled their eyes and never believed. In the mean time Brad tried to get closer to you, even inviting you on a date. You accepted hesitantly, since your heart seemed to be someplace else, liking all of the effort and attention from Parker more than it should. You told Natalie about the date, the two of you had become very close, spending a lot of time together, which often resulted in Brad and Peter tagging along. To say the boys were not getting along would be an understatement. Eyes throwing daggers at each other with every glance, snarky, rude comments were exchanged back and forth. But when you told the pretty blonde about Brad, she was more than excited about it finally happening . She would go on and on about how she knew he liked you ever since the first study session you had together and how he had a very heated fight with Peter after you left. You were grateful for him and what he did, and somehow it still felt wrong to be going out with him.

The night of the date had arrived and you were almost ready, putting in your earrings as you heard a knock on your door. You took a quick look in the full lenght mirror, fixing the long black dress you were wearing. It had a long slit on the left side, exposing your leg, no sleeves and a turtle neck. You had tied your hair in a ponytail, so your light make up would be more visible in the muffled evening lights of wherever he was planning to take you. You opened the door, still not wearing your chunky leather boots but just stockings.

"I thought we were going to meet in front of the library" you said as you opened the door but to your sursprise, someone else was standing there.

"You're not going on that date" Peter said firmly, almost as a command

"You're the last person that's going to tell me what to do" You snapped back at him "Why are you here Parker?"

He walked inside, closing the door behind himself. Peter seemed slightly distressed, looking you up and down with a dark expression.

"Do you really hate me that much?" he asked, leaning his back against the door, his arms behind him as he looked down at his feet. "Or do you just want to hurt me by going out with the guy I like least? Like really? All the guys are in your feet and you decide to go out with Brad, and look as gorgeous as this."

You could hear the annoyance and sadness in his voice, a bit taken a back from all of the things he just said to you. He just loved doing that, didn't he? Saying the most obnoxious things to make you feel bad about yourself.

"Wait, what?" was all you managed to say, taking a few steps back until your butt pressed agains your desk, making you stop. Books and make up palletes were scattred on it. Peter looked up at you, smiling weakly.

"I've liked you, this whole time" he confessed, staring directly into your eyes "Please, don't go on that date"

"Make me" you said faintly, surprised by how you almost whispered it. There was no way he could have heard that. But somehow he did, taking a few rapid steps towards and wrapping an arm around your waist.

"I'll make you forget everyone else but me" he whispered in your ear.

Feeling his hot breath near your face made your heart beat faster, one of your hands resting against his upper arm, looking up into his eyes. You were having a hard time processing what was actually happening, a sudden fear it was one of his games to make fun of you. You tried pushing him away after the realization, but his grip on your waist tightened.

"I'm serious, y/n" he said "I've liked you since I saw you, and I would make everyone sit away from you so I could be near, I would ask you for a pen so I could talk to you. And I tried to show off because I wanted to impress you, I wanted you to think I'm smarter so you could ask me for help in class."

For some reason you believed him, nodding lightly to let him know that. He lifted you up with one arm, sitting you on top of the desk. You were having a hard time vocalizing what you were feeling but you didn't want him to feel awkward because of your silence. Your arms wrapped around his neck, his hand falling on your exposed leg. You looked down at where his hand was, your skin burning with desire to be touched by him more. Your eyes met his again, his filled with hopefullness and lust. He got closer, titling his head to the side and he kissed you softly and sweetly. You returned the kiss, hands cupping his face and bringing him closer to you. Peter deepened the kiss, turning it in a heated make out session as one of his hands romed around your leg, going up your dress so he could touch more of you and the other one placed on the small of your back, pulling you closer to him. You spread your legs, pulling him by the belt so he could position himself between them, your hands going to his hair and playing with his messy curls as your lips and tongues danced against each other. After what seemed like a forever of heated, hungry kisses and filty touching, you broke the kiss so you could catch your breath. You panted havily, chest rising up and down rapidly. Peter pressed his forehead against yours, both of you closing your eyes to collect yourselves.

"Should I at lest text Brad and tell him I'm not going?"

"Well, there goes my hard on"

You hit his chest lightly, both of you giggling at his stupid joke. He looked around, noticing your phone that was charging on the bed, moving away from you to grab it and hand it to you. You unlocked the phone trying to find your chat with Brad while Peter found his previous position, viciously attacking your jaw and neck with kisses. You tried your best to be concentrated and write a normal message, but made a few spelling mistakes nonetheless. Peter nibbled on your neck, which earned him a slight flinch from your side.

“Peter, please, we’re not 16, no hikeys”

He ignored your words, continuing his act the way he had planned it, kissing, licking and sucking on your soft skin while you begged him to stop. His hands were all over your body once again, touching everything that was exposed to him, one hand travelling further up your leg than before, almost landing on your ass but hesitantly stopping. You noticed his uncertainly, pressing your cheek against his so you could whisper in his ear.

“Don’t stop now, Peter” you breathed in his ear, your own hands exploring his body.

He didn’t waste a second after that, grabbing your butt in his hand and pressing his lips against yours. Your hands moved under his shirt, touching his toned stomach. Your were quite shocked to what your fingertips were pressed up against, not expecting him to be as muscular as he actually was. You knew he worked out because you had seen his toned arms in a t-shirt too many times for your own good, but you were definitely not expecting that. Hands quickly slipped him out of his jacket, reaching to pull up his shirt in the heat of the moment but he stopped you, moving slightly away. Your lipstick was smudged all over his mouth and it made you giggle.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” He asked you, his hands finding their way back to your waist. You nodded, undeniably longing for him and his touch, his presence.

“Good, because if we keep this up any longer, I probably won’t be able to hold back” Peter muttered, removing his shirt and tossing it on the floor before he pulled you in again, kissing you.

You took that as a signal that you had to get undressed as well, reaching for the hem of your dress pulling it up. He grabbed your hands when he noticed the act, stopping you from doing what you had planned so he could do it himself. Suddenly you felt the cold air from the room against your skin, along with Peter's warm hands, making you shiver. You undid his belt, helping him pull his pants down, breaking your kiss in the process. You laughed soflty at how he was jumping on one leg while he was trying to kick his pants off, shaking your head.

"What?" He asked

"Nothing, nothing, I'm really missing a date right now for you jumping on one leg to get out of your pants" you bursted out laughing, him joining you shortly after.

"No, it's going to get so much better, trust me" He stated, grabbing you and lifting you up, throwing you on the bed. You squeaked softly from his actions, not expecting it. Soon enough he had your hands pinned down with his, hovering over you. A soft gulp at the sight from you made him chuckle, kissing on your neck once again. He had already left a mark there, starting to suck on a second spot next it.

"Peter really! It's going to be so hard to cover them up" you whined, secretly enjoying his lips and teeth on your skin like this.

He looked at your face, smiling viciously at you.

"I just want people to know you had a good time"

"Yeah, with Brad? I was suppsed to be on a date with him" you teased him, chuckling softly. His expression changed suddenly, he seemed almost angry. His hands let go of your wrists, travelling down your skin as he reached the hem of your panties. His fingers played with the hem of them before slipping in under the thin fabric, the middle finger going between your folds. He could feel how wet you actually were, making him smirk with that cocky smile he had, looking into your eyes. You were holding back a small moan from his touch, looking at his pretty face.

"Can Brad make you this wet baby?" He asked.

You shook your head no, keeping eye contact with him. His middle finger started moving up and down tesing your clit before entering you slowly. This time you couldn't hold back and you moaned, closing your eyes. His smile remained present as he insedted a second finger inside of you, starting to move his hand teasingly slow. Your body squirming underneath him, he buried his face in the crook of your neck, rocking his hips against your leg while he fingered you. You could feel his erection through his boxers, making you even more needy than you already were.

"Parker" you moaned out softly, remembering your hands were actually free and you could move them, immediately attaching to his shoulders, which was the closest body part besides his head. He looked up at you after you called out for him, grabbing your face with his hand and kissing you.

"Peter" you moaned again against his lips, feeling his skin shiver from that. I never considered what effect you actually had on him. "Please, I want to feel you."

After you begged him, he wasted no time pulling your panties down, unressing himself as well. His arms spread your legs forcefully, positioning himself between them. You didn't really manage to follow everything he was doing because you were too eager yourself, pushing up against him in hopes to speed up the process. He pinned you down by the waist, shaking his head in disapproval at your actions. Peter didn't like it when you disobeyed him, even though it was the only thing you were good at doing. He lined himself up to you, teasing you lightly with his tip as a warning before he inserter himself inside, both of you moaning from the act. You felt something like actual electricity when he did that, making you breath heavy from the ecstacy. His hips moved rythmically, along with yours. He was still holding you by the waist, standing on his knees while he fucked into you. You moved your leg up on his shoulder, making him smile and kiss it, one of his hands running up and down it while both of you looked into echother's eyes. You enjoyed the view, so much, his naked toned body, his messy hair, that gorgeous face, your leg on his shoulder while he moved. It was hypnotysing, breathtaking, made your legs shake alone. He could feel you tighthen up around him, making him laugh softly.

"So soon?" he asked, noticing how you started squrming more than in the beginning, legs shaking from time to time, moans becoming more freaquent

"Peter, I'm really close" you managed to say, hands gripping on the sheets around you. His grip on your waist taightened as he went faster and deeper, making you whines more prominent than before. You walls started clenching around him, feeling yourself already starting to cum on him. He placed a hand on your lower stomach, applying slight pressure on it which really sent you over the edge, whole body shaking, heavy breathing and moaning uncontrolablly. He had to hold you down while you came, leaning forward and pecking your lips after you calmed down.

"I need a moment too" he whispered against your lips "Can you handle it for me?"

You nodded, letting him continue rocking his hips into you. You were covered in sweat and so was he, bodies pressed against eachother as he moaned softly in your ear, your legs wrapped around his waist to stop the shaking from the overstimulation.

"Peter" you mumbled against his ear ''I think you're really hot... like, way hotter than I expected''

"Fuck" he replied, pulling out of you and stroking his lenght a few times before he came on your stomach, both of you panting. He lay down next to you for a second, kissing your forehead and hugging you.

"You did so well" he praised you, starting to leave small butterfly kisses all over your face. You laughed softly, cuddling into him.

"We should go take a shower"

"Are you suggesting a second round in your shower?"

"No! Well... maybe, okay, yes"

He laughed at your reply, shaking his head.

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hanasnx · 4 months

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isn't it insane that martian manhunter can literally change the size of his dick? like he could literally, if he wanted to, just change the size of his dick mid-fuck and split you in half. i really just think that's absolutely insane.

-🍃

MINORS DNI 18+

“Forgive me. I’m… unaccustomed to human.” J’ONN J’ONZZ miraculously forms a sentence through the constraints of pleasure. Sweetly rocking into you at a snail’s pace as if it reserve a little time to recuperate and gather his bearings. You had no idea that he’d be this beside himself, keeping your legs spread nice for him with your hands tucked in the crooks of your knees.

“Take your time.” you exhale with a proud curl to your lips. It’s flattering to say the least that you’re his first here on Earth, and he can’t wrap his head around what you feel like. Not to mention his length is obviously shaped unlike anything you’ve had before, the only similarity you can compose is a Bad Dragon dildo you ordered for its unique figure.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” A mildly uneasy question, conveying his nervousness. “You are secreting.” he notes aloud, and casually ruts to test the new lubricant.

“Oh, yeah. It just helps me take in something a little bigger that’s all.” you respond, winded from the effort of it all. It’s unusual how clinical he can be during intimacy, but you try to take it in stride. Answering is a matter of satisfying his curiosity, which you now realize is driving his actions when you feel a peculiar sensation inside you. Not only is more length being introduced, but girth too. He picks up his pace with a groan, rolling his taut abdomen to lick the inside of you with his cock. “I— Woah, what?" In short, you're bewildered, rocking with each of his thrusts into you, your suspended legs bobbing.

"Do you like it?" he asks, clawing into the pillow under your head as he hovers over you. You're speechless, your jaw hanging open with various "Oh"s spilling out of it. "You cannot imagine a tighter space…" he hisses, willing his dick to grow. As a shapeshifter, he was not aware that size could alter an already mind-blowing sensation to an all new level of ecstasy for both parties.

"Oh— fuck, J'onn, I didn't even think of that—" you gasp and you arch your back, letting ease into fucking you deeper than you've ever been touched before.

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loolingz · 1 year

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i can’t stop thinking about riding sae’s thighs >x<

his THIGHS!!! need them asap...... hes my babygirl did yk that ❗❓

nsfw — a little thing where u ride sae's thighs, semi public <3

compared to when you first met him, he’s bolder than you would have expected.

sure, he always had this bluntness about him. it was evident from the moment he had asked for your number upon your initial meeting. and followed that up by asking if you were free sometime next afternoon. but he was quiet. he liked his soccer, goals only he could score. he liked his peace, with just the right amount of quiet that only you seemed to provide. whenever you spotted him at the library, or at a store, he was always modestly dressed as he kept to himself in a corner of the room.

he was unlike any guy you had ever had the honor of meeting in all your years growing up. so how did he reveal to you that he was one of the most famous soccer players? that’s a story for another day. and just how did you become the secret darling no one must know of? a similar, yet longer story. but alas, for another day. but then... how did you end up here? in this position? with so many around?

it’s a story you could tell.

“ w-wait, sae!”

if only he would let you have your thoughts back.

“ shh. there is no need to worry,” sae's cold yet heartwarming laugh fills your ears. on most occasions, you would have found the sound to be sweet. a comforting melody that only your fiance could bring. but there’s no room for comfort. there’s no room for sweet. because while the look on his face may be warm and so lovely, you can’t help but think with your burning cheeks and your growing embarrassment and arousal that he is neither warm nor lovely in this moment. but rather- far too adventurous than what you’re used to. “no one will notice.”

“ b-but … sae… ”

ah, but that’s the thing.

“enjoy yourself, my dear. Let me make you feel good. no one will know .”

you know . and you know that this is something you could only dream about. at least, before him.

wandering eyes are a possibility, even if he promises you that they wouldn’t. and traveling sounds always have a chance when it comes to those with ears most keen. but being seen and being heard- that’s not what makes your head spin. at least, not all that makes your head spin. because there’s something that weighs heavier on your chest as everything happens. something that you know with all your heart and your soul that you cannot bear alone. something you have to ask sae to take care of for you because you know you just can’t.

you used to think he was like you. but you know that’s not it. and could he be? with his hands rolled over your bare skin, traveling up your thighs and under your dress as he pulled you closer to him while he sat in the middle of his rubble-filled hideout. and those long fingers of his- they found their home in all the dips and crevices and curves of your skin with gentle touches laced with lust. and it scares you how quickly he’s able to get you to step out of your panties despite his fellow teammates just mere feet away. almost as much as it terrifies you just how badly you desired to feel his leg between yours in that moment. almost as much as it horrified you when you realized that feeling?

It wasn’t enough.

So you wrapped your arms around his shoulder and you buried your head in his chest. And that’s where it remains in these moments as those long fingers circle your waist and roll your hips along his thigh. It’s an odd feeling, that you can’t say you’ve gotten used to even after all these times. It’s different from your own fingers that you resorted to using when the nights were tough and lonely before you met him. And even more different than the toys you resorted to buying when all you could think about was him. And somehow- you would call this better in the worst ways.

the brushes of the fabric of his silky pants against your sensitive clit never fails to send small jolts of pleasure up and down your body. a position that should have been so awkward and unenjoyable ends up making you feel so hot . so bothered and so needy. it’s as if the thought of making a wet little mess of his clothes turns you on. It’s as if the feeling of having your movements controlled so subtly in order to receive your pleasure makes you aroused. it’s as humping your fiance’s thigh like the little whore you never knew yourself to be while all his teammates are in the other room- it’s like it makes you feel alive . finally, fully, and completely alive.

and you just don’t know what to do with this feeling. You don’t know what to do with it at all.

his soft, black winter coat soaks up your quiet moans and for that you’re thankful. if it weren’t for his coat or the presence of people, you knew he would have wanted you louder. as loud as you could get for as long he could get you. but for now, he’ll accept your sharp breaths and your tiny whimpers as the muscles underneath you flex in a way that somehow manages to go directly to your clit. And he’ll continue to guide you into grinding into him as he leans in and steals a kiss or two or three from your now-swollen lips. perhaps even a fourth one, now that you keep looking at him with that dazed expression of yours.

but that will come later. for now, his forehead will rest against yours and his eyes will peer into your own. and to the outside world, you would hope that the gesture looks innocent. that the gesture looks adoring. lovely. sweet. comforting, even. but to you both, the truth couldn’t be farther away. it couldn’t be more daring. more secretive and hidden. at least, you’d like to think that. though it’s not quite easy now that sae's pace with your hips is starting to grow faster, and you’re starting to get just a tad bit louder. but you’re sure it will be fine. sae will take care of it. your fiance will find a way to make everything work out. the eyes that may wander. the ears that may hear. all of it. he’ll even handle the scent of sex starting to waft through the air. just like he seems to be handling that extremely familiar pit growing in your stomach a little too well. after all, it’s just like he once told you:

Fortune seems to favor the bold .

#sae itoshi #sae itoshi smut #bllk smut #x reader #sae x reader #itoshi sae #itoshi sae x reader #itoshi sae smut #blue lock #bllk #blue lock smut #smut #loolingz #itoshi brothers #blue lock itoshi sae #sae itoshi x reader

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phoenixsbby · 2 years

Text

For What It’s Worth - Iceman x Pilot!reader

summary: sometimes all it takes is a RIO who likes to gossip and some friendly competition to help you understand what you feel for Ice.

readers callsign is ‘foxglove’ (a beautiful, but deadly flower 😉)

WC: 5k

a/n: i wrote this fic like a woman possessed yesterday … my bets are on the ghost of val kilmer (even though he’s very much alive).

warnings: alcohol consumption, mentions of sex, swearing

This has to be wrong. Someone, whoever’s in charge of keeping score and writing it on the board, has made an error. Ice can’t fathom how hard it could be to get right, it’s simple addition. Yet somehow, your callsign is listed above his. You and your RIOs point total has accumulated to above his and Sliders.

Yeah, this has to be some kind of mistake.

He bites at the inside of his cheek as he stares at it, the word ‘Foxglove’ scrawled in chalk. It’s mocking him. You’re mocking him - in more ways than one. You’re similar to Maverick in that right, a little loud and reckless, not a fan of playing by the rules. And God, does it get under his skin.

You know it gets under his skin, that’s half of the reason you continue to do it. Riling up Tom Kazansky, the man given a callsign based on his unfazeable nature, is a game you’re always willing to participate in. The reward, the faint red hue that spreads across his cheeks and the amused smirk you earn, is worth it every time.

When you see him planted firmly in front of the standings, staring at that board like its an enemy MiG-28, you can’t help yourself. You saunter up next to him and put your hands on the hips, humming a curious tone.

“Huh,” you mutter before glancing at Ice “looks like they’ve made a mistake.”

“Yeah, your name is above mine.” He replies, not meeting your eye.

“No, that’s not it.” You shake your head and bite your lip to fight off the grin that’s eager to spread across your face. “I was talking about the fact that they messed up your callsign.” Ice furrows his eyebrows and for a split second, he forgets. His eyes roam over the letters that make up his callsign ‘Iceman’ right next to ‘Slider’ and thinks, what the hell is she talking about?

Then as fast as a split second can pass, he remembers and rolls his eyes.

“They spelt ‘Snowflake’ wrong.” You add, no longer holding any smile back on his account.

Ice should know better by now. He should know not to engage, not to poke the bear, but as eager as you are to tease him, he’s as eager to receive it. At least that means you’re paying attention to him in some way. You’re a total smart ass, an impulsive flyer, and refuse to call Ice by his actual callsign simply because it amuses infuriates him. Despite all of that, you’re also beautiful, intelligent, and determined. And Tom might be a teeny, tiny bit in love with you.

“Very funny, Fox.” He pulls his gaze from the board and finally meets yours. He tilts his head to the side and lets a small grin show. When you’re beaming like that at your own joke and at there fact that you are truly ahead of him in points, he can’t help but smile too.

“Well, at least they got something right.” You take a step closer, slightly invading his personal space before reaching a finger up to point at your score. Ice doesn’t look, he doesn’t need to, he’s already memorized the number he has to beat. Instead, he roots himself in his spot and holds your eyes to his. He soaks in the moment of your close proximity, the feeling of your warmth and lets his grin grow wider.

You try to act cool and collected but inside, your stomach drops and flips like it’s on a rollercoaster, forcing the rest of your body along for the ride. You don’t want to step away, you don’t want to break this tension no matter how much you ache to. These moments that you share with Ice and the time you spend thousands of feet in the air within your box, that’s when you feel the most alive.

His eyes flicker down to your lips and you tilt your head up slightly and he -

“Do we need to clear the room or something?” Goose breaks you and Ice from your trance on each other. You snap your eyes toward him and scowl at his playful, suggestive smirk and raised eyebrows. You love him to death but did he have to choose now, of all times, to be his quirky self?

“As if we’d give you guys a free show.” Ice chuckles as you take a step back, feeling a thousand degrees warmer inside your flight suit.

“Name your price then.” Hollywood leans against the lockers and grins, his words send a chorus of laughs echoing around the locker room. You take that as your cue to leave. Sometimes you forget, for a blissful moment, that you’re the only woman in your class at Top Gun. The group of men you work with are great, really, but sometimes for a moment, they forget too.

“You wouldn’t be able to afford it.” You wink at Hollywood before turning on your heels and leaving. You feel Ice’s eyes burning a hole in the back of your head up until the second you’re out of his field of vision.

——

You and your RIO, Playboy, were on a cold streak. As quick as you rose on the leader board, you fell. When the dogfighting exercises grew more intense, you suddenly struggled to keep up. One loss turned into two. Two turned into three. And by then, you felt officially stuck in a rut and felt equally as shitty for trapping Playboy down there with you. He was a very talented RIO and you were failing him as his pilot. You were failing, period.

There was no reason to believe you weren’t as capable as your male counters. You had earned the right to be in that Top Gun class among the other one percent, you are one of the best. But right now, stomping your way through the base after another loss, you feel nothing more than the uncomfortable jab that is rock bottom.

The last thing you want to do is ‘go at it’ with Ice over the rankings yet, somehow that’s what you end up doing.

“Hey, Fox!” Ice calls after you but, you don’t stop. You’re too determined to peel off this second layer of skin that once was a flight suit, too constricting and tight all of the sudden. “Hey, wait-“

He clasps his hand over your shoulder and pulls you to a stop before rounding on you. Suddenly he’s standing in front of you with his hand still lingering on your shoulder. Normally, you’d let it rest there, normally you’d let the warmth of his touch sink its way through your skin and settle in your marrow. But, right now you do not want to be touched or comforted. Just because you’re a woman does not mean you need to be rocked or coddled when things go wrong.

“What do you want, Jack Frost?” You shake his hand off you and fight the urge to smile when he does at the sound of your new daily nickname for him. You don’t want to smile. You want to sulk and wallow until all the self-pity has seeped out of your pores and you’re ready to get back out there and kick ass.

“Just wanted to remind you to check the leaderboard when you go in there. I’ve heard some mistakes have been corrected.” His smile transforms into a smirk, one that you know it’s harmless. This is the dance you two do, back and forth jabs with nothing but lighthearted intensions. Except now his words feel like a vacuum sucking all the air from your lungs. Despite what he actually says, all you hear is ‘you’re a failure, you’re a failure, you’re a failure, you’re-‘

“Unless I go in and see the words ‘Abominable Snowman’ written on that board, I’m going to assume nothing on there is correct.” Your normal warmth and frisky tone has turned cold and stony. Ice takes a step closer with more drawn in, maybe even slightly concerned, features and reaches out to rest his hand back on your shoulder. You side step him and shake your head before inhaling a pathetic attempt at a deep breath, all the air you manage to take in is short and jagged.

“Look, I do not need you to remind me how much I’m failing right now. I do not need a reminder of what I, of all people, have to prove and how terrible of a job I’m doing at that. I just-“ You pause and blink away glossiness suddenly coating and stinging your eyes. “I want to be left alone.”

A muscle in Ice’s jaw strains before he nods and replies, “Okay.”

You take a step to move around him when his hand wraps around your forearm, freezing you in place. You glance up at him, now directly at his side, pressing up against him. His eyes flicker over you, they bounce between your eyes, your cheeks, your lips. You wish he’d get on with it, the longer he holds you there with your faces so close, the weaker your will to not smash your lips against his becomes.

“For what it’s worth,” his voice comes out husky “I don’t think you’re a failure. I think you’re pretty goddamn great.” His warm breath against the skin of your neck mixed with his words pulls a deep shudder out from inside you. He must notice the way what he’s said affects you, it’d be hard not to.

But if he does notice, he doesn’t act on it. Instead, he releases your arm and takes a step back to give you your space.

——

You mope and you brood and you pout and you do it all over again until the sun has long set and Playboy is dragging you by your collar to the bar. He says it’s better to be sad and tipsy than to just be sad and you think there’s a lot to unpack there and make a mental note to sit down and talk to him about it later.

Right now though, you sort of agree with him.

“Can I ask you a question?” You’re three shots of bottom shelf vodka in and you should not be asking this question but, alcohol gets you more loose lipped and daring than normal and that’s saying something.

“Sure thing.” Playboy leans back in his barstool and grins.

“Why have you never tried to pull a move on me? I mean, I appreciate it. Being a woman doesn’t automatically mean I should be hit on. Everyone should treat me as their equal and in this case all your other equals are males and I’m pretty sure you don’t play for both teams, but if you do I totally supp-“

“Holy shit, Fox!”

“What I mean is, your callsign is Playboy for cryin’ out loud.” You laugh, a bit too hard, but Playboy laughs too so it’s okay. “I guess I just expected it from you. Am I like ... unattractive?”

“Oh my god, Fox.” Playboy groans and puts his face in his hands but, you can tell he’s laughing by the way his shoulders shake. When he pulls his hands away, he continues. “I’m going to regret telling you this and I’m hoping you’ll get too drunk to remember I even said anything.”

You narrow your eyes before taking another shot that was slid in front of you. If he tells you that you’re not all that pretty and you don’t actually smell like the honey lavender lotion you slather on everyday, you’d prefer to not remember that tomorrow too.

“You’re a bombshell.” You flush, mostly from the alcohol that courses through you but, the compliment doesn’t hurt. “But, you’re Ice’s girl.”

You blanch. You were not expecting him to say that. If there was a numbered list of most likely responses to get from him based on your question, his actual response would rank around number 46.

“I .. I am not!”

“Aw, Fox.” Playboy coos at you. “You are.”

“I do not belong to anyone.” You poke a finger into his chest playfully.

“Okay.” He holds his hands up in defense. “You’re right, you’re technically not his. But, come on. The guy’s like completely in love with you.”

Suddenly, you’re dizzy. Both because you’re four shots passed your baseline alcohol intake and because Ice is in love with you?

No way. Ice only loves himself. And maybe his F-14.

“Bullshit.” You murmur, suddenly finding the chipped lacquer of the bar top very interesting.

“Why don’t you ask him yourself?” Playboys words have you dragging your eyes up to him, only then to follow his gaze to the entrance of the bar that Slider and Iceman have just strolled through.

It should be illegal for someone to look as good as Tom Kazansky does in his summer whites. It’s a government issued uniform for Christ’s sake. Yet, he makes it impossible to decide whether you’d rather stare at him while he wears them or rip them off his body.

You snap your gaze away from him and back to your RIO who’s smirking and wiggling his eyebrows while you frown. You let your forehead connect with the bar top as you groan and feel a pat on your back accompanied by Playboy saying, “We’re going to need another round.”

You should go home. You should kiss your annoyingly sweet RIO on the cheek and call it a night. But, you don’t. You stay and drink with him, happy to make him happy after still feeling slightly guilty about dragging him down in the ranks with you. After inhaling a dirty shirley and thirty minutes passing with your liver drowning in all the drinks you’ve consumed, you’re effectively trashed.

You’re in the middle of trying to follow the complicated backstory to Playboys even more complicated dating history when you feel a firm hand placed on your back. Just as quickly as it rests on you, it’s being pulled away and you look up to see Ice, grinning per usual.

“Well if it isn’t my favorite water globe!” You beam at him as his eyebrows draw together.

“She means snow globe.” Your RIO cuts in.

You snap and point in Playboys direction, “He gets me!” Ice chuckles and shakes his head. He tries to hold your gaze to his but you can’t stop looking around, swaying slightly to the music flowing from the jukebox.

“How much have you had to drink?” He catches your eye and notices the way they’re unfocused and slightly glazed over. He doesn’t need hear your response to know the answer is probably too much.

“Not enough.” You grin lazily as Ice scoffs.

“Do you need to go home?” Normally, he’d try to conjure up a witty comeback but, not this time. Ice finds himself slightly worried, he knows you’ve had a rough past couple of days at Top Gun. He’s also never seen you drunk. He has no idea how to act or what to do, all he knows is he’d prefer to ensure you make it home safe. Not every guy at this bar is as respectful as him or your RIO.

“Are you trying to get me to go home with you, Sleetguy?” He can’t believe you’re three sheets to the wind but still manage to call him everything but Iceman.

‘Seriously, Y/N? That one was just bad.” Playboy snickers from beside you.

“So it’s true then?” Your eyes don’t travel to your RIO after his comment, they stay locked on Ice. “You are in love with me.”

Ice’s entire body jerks as if your words hit him with physical force. You don’t notice his involuntary reaction because the song changes to one you’re particularly fond of. Taking the opportunity with your concentration pulled elsewhere, Ice looks over to Playboy who is hiding his wide smirk behind the rim of his beer bottle.

‘You’re dead.’ Ice mouths.

Playboy winks.

“I’m not trying to take you home in that way, Fox.” He puts a hand on your shoulder to draw you back to him and prays to whatever God will listen that your drunk attention span is short. “I’d like to bring you home, make sure you pass out behind a locked door, then leave.”

You all but moan at the thought of your big, comfy bed and eagerly agree to let Ice help you home. Playboy offers to pay for your drinks, calls you a ‘foxy mama’, then sends you on your way, trusting Tom with you completely.

Part of you is too drunk to walk straight, the other part uses that fact as an excuse to let Ice wrap an arm around your shoulders and for you to wrap an arm around his waist in response. They’ve got his callsign all wrong, you think to yourself, he can’t be Iceman when he’s this freaking warm. He’s like a furnace and you burrow yourself deeper into his side, his heat providing a kind of comfort you never knew you needed.

By the time you make it home, the fun part of being drunk, that small window of time when you feel like you’re numb and floating, has closed. All you feel is woozy and like the room is on an axis, tilting to the left one minute and to the right the next. You cling to Ice’s side shamelessly as he helps you inside and into your room.

Ice has never been in your place before. Maybe if you were less in need of his assistance, he’d take more time to notice how every detail, big and small, about your home encompasses you. He’d see you in every place he’d look and it would be comforting in a way, to know you were all around him. For now, he settles on making sure you don’t topple over out of fear that if you do, you will not be getting back up.

He sits you on the edge of you bed and kneels in front of you, keeping his eyes pealed on your boots which he starts to untie. He can’t look up at you, he knows what he’ll feel in his chest if he does and now is not the time to feel that way, not while you’re in this state.

You squeeze his shoulders a few times tightly while he works on getting your shoes off as if you’re trying to draw his attention to you. After the third squeeze, he gives in and glances up. You smile at him softly and yup, there’s that feeling right where he predicted it would be, deep inside his chest.

“Will you stay?” You ask, your voice just above a whisper.

You’re going to be the death of him.

“I can’t, honey.” He wraps a hand around your calf and lets his fingers stroke it gently, giving in to this overwhelming desire just the smallest bit. Your smile turns downwards at his words and he aches to find a way to flip it back upward. “You’re drunk. When you wake up tomorrow and see me here, you’ll call me a big Yeti and throw pillows at me until I leave.”

He sees the way you fight (weakly) against a smile before it bursts through with a laugh to accompany it. His heart swells.

“Please,” you’re still smiling. “You can sleep on the couch. I just-“ He remembers the way you paused at those very words earlier today, like you were physically forcing what you really wanted to say out. “I don’t want to be alone.”

He sighs and thinks sleeping on the couch probably wouldn’t be too bad. It did look comfy based on the small glimpse he got of it earlier.

“It’ll be my own funeral in the morning.” He gives your leg one last squeeze before letting go.

“I’ll pay for the service myself.” You still have your hands clasped to his shoulders.

“I want Madonna to sing as they lower me into the ground.” He smirks as you let out a bark of a laugh, so loud and pure he may burst if he doesn’t hear it again.

“How rich do you think I am? And how important do you think you are that Madonna would sing at your funeral?” You’re still laughing and holding him onto him, your bodies moving closer and closer like there’s a gravitational pull between you.

“I’m very important, thank you very much. I’m going to be a number one graduate from Top Gun.” The second he speaks the words, he wants to rip them out of the air. But, you seem unaffected by them, still smiling at him fondly.

“Whatever propels your jet, you big Yeti.” You two could go back and forth like this all night, it’s what you do. But, Ice knows he should get you to sleep and hope you don’t wake up with a raging hangover that’ll fuel your distaste in finding him crashed on your couch tomorrow.

“Come on, Dandelion, you should go to bed.” You gasp dramatically as he stands up and press a hand to your heart, faking being hurt.

“I’ll let you get away with that just this once, Kazansky.” You lay back in your bed and melt into the pillows. “Count your blessings.”

He chuckles as he throws the blanket over you and replies, “Oh, I certainly am. Goodnight, Y/N.” Your eyes flutter closed at the sound of your name rolling off his lips, sweet and smooth.

“Iceman.” Tom comes to a halt in the threshold of your bedroom. After a beat of silence, he thinks he may have imagined it, you whispering his callsign. But then, “Ice.” He turns around, looking back at you. Your eyes are barely open and the sleepy smile you have spread across your lips looks so inviting, like you’re begging him with that smile alone to kiss you.

“For what it’s worth, I think I’m in love with you too.” Your eyes drift closed so easily, as if the words you’ve just spoken don’t leave him reeling.

——

The sun is pain. Once, you appreciated the golden light that coats your bedroom every morning in a welcoming, warm glow. Now, you despite it. You are never drinking again, you’re certain of this fact. You’ve had hangovers before, you’ve even muttered those same exact words before but, this time is different, you swear.

After you’re able to open your eyes without them burning so bad that they tear up, you notice a tall glass of water and two Advil capsules sitting pretty on your bedside table. You know you didn’t leave them there, which means ...

Oh.

Oh, no.

You screw your eyes shut again as the whole night comes rushing back like a tsunami, pummeling you in its wake. You doing shots with Playboy. Playboy telling you Ice was in love with you. You needing Ice to take you home. You begging Ice to stay.

You telling Ice that you love him too.

You are most definitely, absolutely, with no uncertainly, never, ever drinking again.

After chugging the water, popping the pain pills and seeing the time, you're grateful for your military trained internal clock waking you up so early. You were hoping Ice had already woken up too and dodged a bullet by leaving before you came out of your room. But, no dice.

You see him there, sleeping soundly on your couch, when you crack the door to your room open. What’s even worse is that he looks so peaceful, not a worry line or wrinkle on his face. You don’t have the heart to wake him up, he deserves that tranquility, even for just a little bit.

And your desperate need for coffee outweighs your desperate need to get the awkward interaction you know is coming the minute he gets up over with.

By the time you do notice his eyes blinking away any remnants of the dreams he was clinging to, you’ve showered, a pot of coffee has been brewed, the eggs are done, and the bacon is cooking. You’re shocked at this ability to sleep for so long but, also you’re not because being in the Navy is exhausting. You know that first hand.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty.” You try to keep your voice light and airy despite the absolute pounding of your heart against your ribcage.

Ice rubs his eyes then pushes his hair back before furrowing his brows at you and asking, “Did you just call me something non-snow related?”

“Anything’s better than big Yeti.”

You can tell the second he registers the true meaning behind your words when every muscle in his body tenses. He comes to the realization that you remember the events of the previous night on his own and you let him. During the time he was sleeping and you were milling around on your tip toes trying not to wake him up, you realized something.

You truly do love him.

And what’s the point of hiding that? If what Playboy told you wasn’t true, if he didn’t love you back, Top Gun would still come to an end and then you’d part ways. If it was true, if he did love you back, then maybe you could stick together.

Loving a person like Tom meant having someone to push you but, also having someone there to catch you when you fall. You wanted that.

When he doesn’t say anything, you start to panic and do what you do best in these situations, you ramble.

“I made some food. If you’re hungry, you’re welcome to eat. But if you don’t like eggs and bacon, I can probably find something else to make. And there’s coffee so, if you’re tired you can drink that. You like coffee, right? I’m pretty sure you do. Or you can take a shower, I think I have some spare clothes that may fit you. Or you could-“

“Fox.” You dart your eyes up to meet his. “A shower sounds great.” He smirks. You try ignore the heat pooling in between your legs (although it’s very hard when he looks at you like that) because at least he didn’t choose to leave.

“Okay, yeah, sure.” You clear your throat. You show him the bathroom and how to use the shower and grab him a towel. The last thing you tell him before you leave is that you’ll search for something clean for him to wear. After rummaging around for some of your dads old sweats, you knock on the door.

“Found some clothes!” You call out from behind the wooden barrier.

“Just bring them in here!” He calls back, his voice slightly muffled. You swallow thickly at the thought of going in there while he’s showering. Your shower has a curtain so, you wouldn’t directly see anything but, the idea of knowing what’s on the other side has more searing heat shooting through you.

The bathrooms slightly steamy when you open the door and place the clothes on the sink for him. You utter a strained “All set!” before turning to leave.

“Fox.” His voice is no longer muffled from the water or the door, in fact its crystal clear. You look over you shoulder and your eyes meet Ice’s, he’s pushed the curtain aside enough that you can see his face and the top of his chest and where hot water pools in his collarbones.

Small droplets travel down the muscles of his shoulders, they dip below the valley of his pecs and curve over the peaks of his abs. When the particular droplet your eyes were shameless following falls off of his body, you shoot your eyes back up to look at this face, feeling heat gather in the cheeks of your own.

You want to touch him, you want to kiss him, you have to know.

“Is it true?” He doesn’t have to ask you what you mean, he knows. How could he not? You hold your breath as he clenches his jaw. His eyes stay locked on yours, they burn through you, see right into you. You hope he can see the way you silently plead for him to say yes.

“Yeah, it’s true.” Your heart is a jack hammer in your chest when he adds, “Did you mean it?”

“Yeah,” you don’t hesitate “I did.” Simultaneous smiles break out across your faces, filled with equal parts relief and bliss. He reaches out, grabs a fistful of your t-shirt and yanks you closer to him.

“Easy, Iceman, you’re going to get me wet.” You laugh as he wraps his arms around you and pulls your chest flush against his. He brushes a drenched hand through your hair before it settles against your cheek, rubbing small circles along your skin.

“Do not call me by my callsign right now.” He groans as his other hand pushes its way beneath the material of your shirt and up your bare back. Had you purposefully chosen not to put on a bra after your shower hoping a moment like this would occur? Yes. Are you so glad you did when you feel his palm drag across your naked shoulder blades? Absolutely.

“I thought you’d be happy to hear me call you that!” You squeal as he digs his fingers into your hip.

“When we’re in those uniforms, you call me Ice. When we’re out of them, I want you to call me by my name. In fact, I want you to moan it so loud that the neighbors never forget the name Tom Kazansky.”

“Whatever you say, Tom.” With that, he connects your lips slowly. It’s a kiss dripping with passion and greed and holds a promise that it will certainly not be the last time he kisses you that way. Your lips move together rhythmically, effortlessly, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. He coaxes a moan from you by way of nipping and sucking at your bottom lip, like he’s desperate to taste more of you.

When he pulls away from the kiss, only to move his hungry lips to your neck, you take the opportunity and say, “For what it’s worth, regardless of what we’re wearing, I’ll always love you.”

“Trust me baby, that’s worth a whole hell of a lot.” He grins against your skin before pushing the curtain aside and pulling you with him under the hot water.

——

^ me when a hot, blonde, cocky pilot does literally anything

#iceman x reader #tom kazansky x reader #iceman fic #tom 'iceman' kazansky fic #top gun #top gun fanfiction #iceman fanfiction #tom kazansky fanfiction #top gun maverick #top gun maverick fanfiction #iceman #tom kazansky #tom 'iceman' kazansky

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lalal-99 · 3 months

Text

of timeless love {h.j.} | track 1

©March 2023, February 2024 by lalal-99

Han Jisung x afab!reader | trope: slice of life, coming of age | word count: 2.6k

Synopsis: You and your annoyingly adorable boyfriend Jisung move off to university, to make new friends, find a calling and learn how to live on your own for the very first time in your lives.

Check Chapter Overview for complete list of warnings

Note: I first thought of this story about a year and a half ago. I didn't feel ready at the time, but as I got better over the years, I picked this story up again. Updates might be slow, so bear with me please

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You, 6 years ago, wouldn’t have bought this romantic af, straight out of a fairy-tale storyline.

You going to University? With the love of your life? Like the picture-perfect couple, smiles glued to your face? Nuh-uh. Not you. Not in this lifetime and most likely not in the next dozen—if you ever were so unlucky.

Family, love, college. All of it was bullshit. Temporary.

Nothing good ever lasted. If anything, a dark twist was already lurking around the next corner at any given moment. You couldn’t imagine a dimension in which you were ever happy. Let alone content.

Your 14-year-old emo self would never grow out of the jet-black hair. Or the countless piercings decorating your face. Or those cole-coloured ripped skinny jeans you wore like a second skin. So much you knew. Past-you only ever wanted to gloom through life in a hazy blur. Depressed about My Chemical Romance breaking up and all the other hardships life had already put you through.

That girl would have despised who you had become. Hair grown back to its natural colour. Wearing shirts without some underground metal band’s logo printed on the front. That girl would have likely made fun of you for even thinking about grades. And your future? If you ever had one, your 14-year-old self knew it would include nothing but darkness and despair.

Every teenager around you went through that phase, though you were sure it was more than that. A phase. A short and survivable part of your story. You fully and whole-heartedly believed nothing would ever change about your attitude towards life. It couldn’t, not after everything that had happened.

Overcoming that horrible chapter of your life seemed unimaginable. That you even got the chance to reach out and grab your future by its horns only had one reason. One person who was to become the most meaningful part of your life. Of the same future, he was the reason you even considered having.

Han Jisung.

A boy of innocence and noisy introversion. A boy who, despite having lived through similar trauma as yourself, had a will for life toxic enough to capture you. A boy who you became sure was the closest thing to a soulmate you would ever find.

No one could have prepared you for how hard you’d fall for Jisung. You loved him at his best, worst, and everything between. And you had fallen in love with him despite his lousy sense of humour and silly persona. Or maybe, you had fallen for him because of it. Because he had a similar story to yours but an opposite look at it.

Your 14-year-old, always-depressed, doom-certain-self could have never imagined being with someone like him. Let alone being head-over.heels. All while doing what? Watching him do something so mediocre and none-life changing as buying toothbrushes?

“I don’t know. Which ones do you think?”

Jisung presented you two indistinguishable packs of toothbrushes, waking you from your daydream. Thus, the blurriness faded and your eyes focused on the tiny words on each cover.

“These,” you decided on the left option. “Those bristles are too hard for your gums.”

“Oh, we definitely can’t have that.” With a dramatically disgusted expression, he returned the wrong set to its place on the shelf. “I want to keep at least some of my teeth.”

“Thankfully,” you agreed with a snicker. His words cracked you up more than they should have.

No doubt, your 14-year-old self would have hated yourself six years later.

“Okay. What else is on that magic list of yours?”

“Microwave popcorn and some instant ramen. And we should get some notebooks and highlighters for tomorrow. That’s it.” You listed the remaining articles off the slip of paper while crossing out the products you had retrieved from the hygiene section. “Should we split up?”

“Nah. That’s how they die in horror movies. And I’m not going out in the food court of a 7/11.”

“Fair. How about the Back-to-School aisle then?”

Jisung pondered his reply as he wandered past toothpaste and mouthwash. “Too many pens for people to draw penises on my face. The cleaning section, however? That’s a whole other conversation.”

“How come?”

“Well, there’s bleach and mops already. Also, buckets. So they can simply wheel my corpse away.”

As you walked by the pasta and other canned foods, you picked up a tray of ramen each. For convenience, if anything. Had it not been for the thinness of your wallet, you would have gone for fresher produce. So much for independent living.

With an intensive focus on your absurd conversation—Jisung listing places he would most likely die in if he were a character in a horror movie—you didn’t notice a tray of stacked goods blocking the path. It wasn’t until you bumped your shin on the square-edged tower that you finally took notice.

As a wave of pain swallowed your leg, you left out a shriek. “Gosh freakin’ dang it!”

“You good, baby?” His concern was genuine, though he couldn’t help smiling at your desperate attempt not to swear. “Let me see.”

Jisung kneeled in front of you, noticing a reddening wound once he had dragged the jean fabric up your leg.

“Just a bruise.”

“Easy for you to say. You’re not the one feeling like your skin is being dragged off your flesh.”

“No. But I can make it better.”

He rose to his feet, arms hugging your frame as he picked you up without any effort. You giggled as he heaved you into the cart, careful not to squish the food.

“What are you doing?”

“No girlfriend of mine should have to walk when she’s in pain,” Jisung explained, helping you get settled. Pushing the crushable goods out of the way, you sat on the cans. Not the most comfortable seating, but it worked, nevertheless.

“Damn, those other girls are lu-cky.”

Jisung was pleased at how casually you had joined in on his joke. A smile formed on his lips as he pushed you along the shelves of seasonal produce.

You soon reached the Back-to-School aisle. There you took your sweet time deciding on notebook formats and highlighter colours. It kept surprising you how much fun it was to go grocery shopping when done with the right people. Everything was about 50 percent less boring because of Jisung. Jisung and his ability to find something ridiculous in anything and everything.

After you had made some other critical decisions—like which folders would make organising the year easiest, the ones with dogs or flowers in front—you finished up your school-supply-run.

When you reached the cash register, you noticed the strange looks the other customers gave you. Two young adults strolling through a supermarket, pushing each other in grocery carts? Definitely side-eye-worthy.

Maybe you would have cared more had you not been so enticed by Jisung’s mindless humming of Can’t Take My Eyes Off You.

“What?” Jisung questioned your glances as he started unloading the items from the cart.

“Nothing.” You joined him, unloading all the trays of food you had picked minutes earlier. “This feels weird. Going grocery shopping together. Feels grown-up somehow.”

“We go grocery shopping once a week,” he declared with a thoughtful pout.

“But that’s different.”

After you had emptied out your purchase, he wheeled you further down the band. The woman behind the cash register seemed equally interested in you as all the customers. Soon enough, she continued doing her job.

“You mean because we didn’t have to pay for it ourselves?” He held his hand to his heart as if heartbroken. “I miss your dad, too. Always so kind, paying for all our stuff.”

You chuckled at his playful sincerity.

“No, idiot.” As Jisung reloaded the cart, you payed for this week’s necessities. “Because we’re grocery shopping on our own, living off at uni. We have officially moved out of our home, living in the big city. It’s— new. That’s it.”

As soon as you had reached the exit, you picked reached for the strawberries, unable to abstain any longer. Strolling towards his car, you handed one over to your boyfriend while sucking on your own. Like the gentleman he was, Jisung helped you jump from the car and you packed everything into the trunk.

Once you had placed the cart back by the others, you finally headed home. Or rather, the dorm room you would be living in for the next four years.

You weren’t at that point of calling it your home yet.

A comfortable silence surrounded you throughout your drive. It remained while you stacked away your half of the food back at your place and lasted until you finished. This sort of silence wasn’t uncommon these many years into your relationship—you hardly noticed it anymore.

“Man, all this talk about horror movies makes me want to watch one.” That you hadn’t mentioned this topic for over 30 minutes seemed irrelevant.

“But you’re horrible with horror movies,” you pointed out.

“Not when you’re there to protect me.”

An hour later you were sprawled out on your bed, the last sweet strawberry long gone.

With your legs entangled, Jisung’s face rested on your chest as you massaged his scalp. After minutes of fruitless discussion, Spiderman was now webbing his way through your laptop screen. In the end, it really didn’t matter what movie was playing. It never did as long as you were with each other.

Not even 20 minutes into the movie, Jisung had fallen asleep on top of you. His faint snoring was now mere background noise as you followed the plot, ehich wasn’t as simple as it sounded. Your energy was more than drained from running around all day.

Only three days ago, you had still been back home. Packing for your upcoming move to a new city, two hours from every place you had grown up in. The one thing keeping you calm throughout the stress was your sweetheart-boyfriend. To no one’s surprise. He was the only person able to keep you sane when all you wanted was to scream and cry. Had you not had him by your side, you would have drowned in all the noise your brain usually produced.

His ability to calm your nerves when you needed him to—know when to make you laugh or when to distract you from your everyday stresses—surprised you to this day. You couldn’t begin to explain how you had been lucky enough to find someone like him. Someone you loved as much as you had seen your parents do when you were younger. Let alone how he loved you the same way, almost self-destructively so.

Your 14-year-old self would have called bs. But that girl was someone else—you, but in another lifetime. You but pre-Jisung.

When the door to your room rushed open, it pulled you from your quiet slumber. You had turned off the lights earlier to set the mood but still knew the intruder was your roommate. Besides you two, only Jisung knew the code to your dorm—a decision you had previously discussed with your new roomie, of course. Seeing as he was knocked out on top of you, you could cross him off your list of possible visitors at 8 pm on a Monday.

Adapting her eyes to the darkness, she checked her surroundings before tiptoeing into the room. The light remained off as she expected you to be asleep.

“Hey,” you greeted the dark-haired beauty, making her jump in surprise at the sudden noise.

“Fu—God! You scared me.” With one hand over her heart, your roomie calmed herself from your unexpected jump-scare. Once her heart rate had settled, she slipped out of her heels and left them by the end of her bed. “Is he asleep?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed, letting your finger run along his jaw to check. He didn’t move, so you knew he was most likely out for the night. “Long night?”

She gagged with an eye roll, pulling her jeans off her legs and exchanging them for grey sweatpants. “Don’t get me started. I haven’t even started writing my thesis, and it’s already kicking my ass.”

You watched her as she also changed out of her dress shirt and into an off-the-shoulder crop top. She slipped into a pair of sneakers while making her way to her dresser where she sprayed herself in a cloud of perfume.

“You’re leaving again?”

“Yup. I spent so much time at the library today, I apparently neglected,” she air-quoted with an eye roll, “my girlfriend. At least that’s what she said.”

“The things we do to keep our loved ones happy.”

“Exactly.” Unleashing her long curls from a tight ponytail, she ran her fingers through them for a few seconds. Her beach-waves veiled her face, so she pushed them behind her ears to instead frame her near-perfect features. “Anyway, I’m staying at hers tonight, so don’t wait up for me.”

“Okay,” you agreed with a yawn, your roommate replying with a deep chuckle.

The past few days, you had mainly spent in your new room, settling in and getting ready for the start of the semester. You liked planning ahead, knowing your life was organised to a T, so you could focus on the important stuff. Your studies, and your boyfriend.

Your roommate seemed to have most of the same priorities. She had gone out every night since you moved in, be it to study at the library or spend some time with her better half. However she managed to squeeze in all the partying? You had no clue. You could only hope some of her togetherness rubbed off on you. But then again, never judge a book.

“I’m going to take you out one of these days. You are not going to be sitting inside all year. Not on my watch.”

Spending the first two days inside, you must have looked like the biggest couch potato ever.

“Sounds good.”

As she waltzed towards the door, you grabbed her attention one last time. The hallway lights blinded you with their brightness, framing her curves in a halo.

“Oh, and Hwasa?” She turned to face you, looking like she had jumped straight off a Vogue cover. How she did that without trying was a mystery to you. “Can you not tell Wheein he’s sleeping over? I wouldn’t want my first warning on the third day already.”

“Babe, as long as you’re my roommate, my dorm-supervisor-girlfriend won’t dare write you up. Just don’t set anything on fire, and you’re solid.”

With that, she waved goodbye, leaving you and your boyfriend alone. Well, apart from the ever-so-handsome Tom Holland, who somehow made full-body suits look like a reasonable choice of clothing.

Not soon after, your eyes fell close, sending you off into a deep rest.

Next Chapter >>>

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iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia · 2 months

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Is it ever explained in the game why the Mc doesn't have their memories post-resurrection?

Like they get the Fool’s body and the fool is like new beginnings and stuff ( I ASSMUE, Tell me if I'm wrong) , but is an actual explanation in the game? Like did they also have to give something up even though the didn't make the deal? Is it because they don't have their original body?

Spoil it for me idc I just wanna know

The Arcana Brainrot Essays: MC's Memories

Hi anon friend! I hope you don't mind the ramble that's about to proceed -

Not only is the magic system of the Arcana pretty vague, when it comes to MC inhabiting the Fool's body, we have six different canon routes and twelve different canon endings, all with different implications.

With MC not being present for the ritual that gets their body back, it's fairly safe to assume that MC is not bound by any deals at the time of the prologue (though there is plenty of space to argue otherwise, given how vague the details are). Many of the routes include other characters reckoning with the deals they made at the time, but MC's reckoning has more to do with the truth than anything else. The best explanation, and to my knowledge, the canon explanation we get across routes for MC's missing memories is "because of the resurrection." That's it.

Here's where I jump from canon stuff to the implications I picked up through the different routes, focusing on the how aspect:

Similar to what other creators have pointed out in the past, MC's amnesia bears a lot of similarities to amnesia caused by traumatic brain injuries or (in my opinion) trauma in general. Based off of the occasions where MC is able to recover their own memory of dying, it seems like in at least some routes, the memories are still in there. They're just suppressed by a mysterious something. Given how the memory loss is associated with strong headaches, how said headaches are triggered by attempts to remember or vivid references to the past, and how attempting to forcibly remember something has led to further damage in the past, MC does seem to be in the middle of a nonlinear healing journey. As several of the routes progress, we can even see MC being able to succeed at mental tasks with lower levels of difficulty when previously it would have resulted in a debilitating headache.

My personal conclusion from all of that is that MC's amnesia is the result of the sheer trauma of dying and then coming back. It's a mind boggling experience simply to process the facts of what happened - let alone the physical and emotional experience. The story picks up with MC having physically recovered enough to live independently, and continues with MC's mental and emotional growth into fully growing into themself (in the upright endings). In some routes, they're able to recall a memory of their own as the story progresses, in other routes, any knowledge MC receives of the past is from other perspectives. Which leads to one of the biggest questions: can MC get them all back?

Some of our best clues outside of MC's personal narrative are the two other characters involved with returning missing memories: Muriel and Julian. (Asra, we know, forgot the details of the ritual itself, but otherwise has all memories intact. Nadia's missing all memories since entering Vesuvia for the first time, but it's never clear how much she gets back.) Julian recovers his memories when he reverses his deal with the Hanged Man, choosing to live as a normal person again with MC so that he can piece together the answer to the Plague. In his case, all the memories come back at once, fully intact.

Muriel's situation is different. He doesn't have any memories missing, he just has the capacity to take away the memories of the people around him. At first, the method for returning those memories is a sensory trigger (myrrh), but as time goes on and the deal loses its effect, the memories seem to slowly return to the people around him. It's different from Julian suddenly having access to the full breadth of his memories again, but the overall effect is the same: the lack of memory is resolved to the point that "normal" functioning can resume.

So, what does that say about MC's case? In short - anything. It really is up to how you imagine your MC, their past, the specific dynamic they have with their specific LI, how their future progresses post canon, etc. There's canon examples of characters regaining their memories gradually over time, getting them all back at once as the result of a deal, or simply learning to move forward and embrace the chance to start anew. And these are just examples of the default apprentice - there are plenty of MCs with gorgeously fleshed out backgrounds whose stories are their own twist on canon, where none of this really applies!

In short, how MC interacts with their missing memories is largely dependent on who your MC is. As to why they're missing - it's written as being because of MC dying and coming back. Whether that's due to the nature of it being trauma/a traumatic brain injury, or whatever other reason you can think of, is up to you ^.^

Cheers friend!

brainrot

#ask arcana brainrot #the arcana #the arcana game #the arcana headcanons #the arcana hc

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misc-obeyme · 3 months

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One thing that i love about Diavolo's character is the great Angst potential he has. He lived a life of privilege and luxury while growing up. But he had grown up sheltered within the walls of the palace as an only child. The demon king, his Dad, not only "left" him when he was young cuz he lost interest in ruling and instead decided to "slumber" at the bottom of the Devildom, i'm convinced that he blamed Diavolo for the loss of his Mother, since it's stated that she died after giving birth to him. So Diavolo didn't had the mentor that he needed when he was young until he met Barbatos. He doesn't show it, but he's lonely on the inside. He can't show this side to anyone since he's the future ruler of devildom. I can imagine, every day, he would gaze out of his window at the bustling streets below, filled with commoners going about their daily lives. Burdened with the weight of responsibility. He knew that one day, he would have to rule over his people and make decisions that would impact their lives.

Now imagine placing MC into the picture, and this is something that i haven't seen the fandom talk about, i believe that Diavolo and MC can't just date normally like how you would with the brothers. Firstly, he's a Demon Prince, and MC most likely is a human commoner. Their union would most likely be forbidden by the laws (council of demons) of both their worlds, and any offspring they might have would be shunned by both demons and humans alike. (It's even Canon in the original game that humans and demons can't get married).

So, despite the pain in his heart, Diavolo knew that he had to let Mc go. He couldn't bear to see them with another, but he also couldn't bear to see them unhappy because of him. He once said that he wants to put Mc in a cage and keep them for himself in one of his cards, but he decides against it because he knows it's not right.

So imagine, he didn't want to feel those things he felt, but no matter how hard he fought against them, his feelings for Mc just grew stronger. With a heavy heart, he knew that he would always be there for Them, watching over them and protecting them from afar. He watched in silence as Mc found love with another human, a kind and gentle soul who treated them with the love and respect they deserved. And so, restless Diavolo would watch the stars shining brightly in the night sky on his balcony as he whispered a silent prayer for the human he loved, his heart heavy with the weight of their forbidden love. And as he thought of Mc, a single tear rolled down his cheek, a silent testament to the love that would always remain between them.

What do you think??

Damn, anon. Are you trying to break my heart????

Poor Dia! I'm pretty sure in the og he says that his father did blame him (or like... had issues with him because he reminded him of his mom or something along those lines). And he also talks about how he didn't really have anyone until Barb showed up.

I also think that the way he often expresses jealousy of the brothers having fun or being chaotic indicates that he wishes he had something similar. Likely because he's lonely.

But oh man, just having MC show up, but it makes it worse because he has to let them go?!? Watch them marry someone else??? Oh, the angst! The suffering!!

I mean, if MC stayed mortal, he'd have to deal with them dying eventually anyway, but at least he could potentially have memories of a life together with them. But in this scenario, all he has is the knowledge that MC was happy without him.

Anyway, I think you've got a really interesting set up here! And yeah, if you're going for angst, this scenario definitely delivers! Ouchies though 😭

#Diavolo is such a tragic figure if you think about it too much #I just want that guy to be happy #or twist the story so he's more on the demonic side of things and he thrives on the power of being the demon king...#I'd be okay with that too #obey me #obey me diavolo #anon asks #misc answers

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jamisonwritestf2trash · 4 months

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In the spirit of Valentines Day, I come bearing headcanons. Specifically, the mercs favorite flowers, plus how they'd react to getting said flower as a gift! Also, bonus Miss Pauling because I like her too.

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Demo- Buttercups

I'd like to think that when Demo was younger, he lived in a house near a field that had wildflowers. Like he could look out his window and just see flowers, and out of all of them, he found himself being drawn to buttercups. I think yellow is his favorite color, so he was naturally drawn to them based off color but something else draws him to them that he can't describe.

He will cry if he gets a bunch of these. He knows that buttercups aren't a traditional flower to get in a bouquet which means, the person giving him them had to, not only remember whatever one off drunken comment Demo made about his favorite flower, but also had to go out and spend time picking flowers for him.

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Engie- Hyacinths

I think he’d be a big fan of hyacinths because they were his mom’s favorite flower and now, seeing them reminds him of her. He may have not had a great home life growing up, but something about seeing small things to remind him of his old home does make him very happy. He likes blue hyacinth more than any other, which do represent loyalty and patience, so that’s fun!

If he receives flowers he’s immediately a little pink, the whole, “Aw, you shouldn’t have.” schtick, he is very happy to have received any gift at all. Not happy about how out of the way this must have been, but knows better than to argue when presented with a gift. He likes how they, at least a little bit, brighten up his work space.

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Heavy- Marigolds

I genuinely think he just really likes how they look. No deeper meaning. He just thinks that they are one of the prettiest flowers he’s ever seen, and he adores them. I think he really just likes flowers in general, and it’s hard for him to pick a favorite. This man just appreciates the beauty of the world! I think he is a little drawn to the color and shape, he thinks it's such an interesting flower. Something about it is unique in a mundane way. I also just think he’s read a lot of books on flowers and plants and has always been drawn to them.

If he got flowers as a gift he would be very appreciative. I think at first he wouldn’t really realize someone put the effort into buying him his favorite flowers. I like to think that his sisters would pick wildflowers for him when he was younger and he would always be appreciative of the “Thank you for thinking of me, this is the eight time this week you brought these, where are you finding these.” type of way, so he’s conditioned to feel that way at the sight of flowers as a gift, but is genuinely very happy when he realizes that someone remembered his favorite flower and bought them for him, small things mean a lot to him.

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Medic- Chrysanthemums

Similar to Heavy, he is also a big fan of plants and flowers! I think he definitely minored in botany at one point after developing an interest. I think he actually grew to love chrysanthemums specifically because when he was going to college, he found that there was a small patch outside his dorm window, and he would occasionally watch the flowers moving, the life around them just living. He used watching the flowers as a break, a distraction, so his mind just associated them with good times.

He is posed with a… situation. He appreciates the gesture immensely! But… he does have birds, and as smart as the birds may be, they are still a little stupid, and he would prefer his plants NOT to be eaten. Also, he can’t risk coating his gift in blood, despite how much he loves the stuff, he knows that a blood bath probably isn’t the best for flowers. Fret not, however! He most likely keeps them in his room, or in a common area. He is very meticulous in caring for them, if he puts them out, the gift giver may see him watering and caring for the flower as often as he can between his other work. Maybe a bit more stress than originally worth it, but he definitely appreciates the effort!

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Scout- Roses

Scout is a fan of roses, like his mother actually. He isn't aware of the symbolism of the color of roses though, he just always knew orange was his favorite color for roses, for some reason. It's just interesting that orange roses can represent energy and pride.

If he finds himself on the reviving end of these roses, he will get very defensive. He totally doesn't like them, why would you get him these, he doesn't want them, no, no no wait don't take them back- He keeps those flowers around until they rot, and even then he doesn't want to give them up, he loves the gesture.

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Sniper- Tiger Lilies

Sniper likes flowers well enough. He’s more of an animal fan than anything, but he can appreciate the beauty of nature in all forms. I wouldn’t say tiger lilies are 100% without a doubt his favorite, I think he just likes seeing them a bit more than others. They represent prosperity and positivity, and he’s fine with having a little bit more of that in his life at any given time. Might give a half smile at the sight of one,

Hey, no, no no no, HE is the gift giver! Very uncomfortable receiving gifts. He’s appreciative, yes, but it;s just very hard for him to express that! People remembering things about him is very…new. He’s already very quiet and reserved, so the fact that someone managed to remember something so insignificant (in his mind) is confusing, but not entirely unwelcomed. He’s not very good with plants, so hopefully the gift giver won’t take offense to the fact that they might already be wilting by the next day.

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Spy- Lily of the valley

A mix of a few things makes this Spy's favorite flower. I think Spy became attached to them after receiving them a couple of times. He attaches to them because any time he's given a gift, it changes a little part of his brain. Also!! Lily of the vally are symbolic of rebirth, and maybe Spy has always been ready for change.

If you managed to find out his favorite flower, you are instantly a threat (/hj) Spy does NOT like people knowing about things he likes, nor does he like them being “used against him” (<- having to feel an emotion one time), He’ll take them with the promise of not keeping them, so your money was a waste and you’re stupid for even doing this- he keeps them in his room along with the other plants he keeps. He loves the gift, like Scout, would rather die than admit that.

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Soldier- Forget Me Nots

Calling these his favorite flower is almost a stretch, I don't think he particularly cares for flowers. I just don't think he really pays attention. But if he finds himself sitting on the ground, most likely with Demo, his eyes will be more focused on these than anything else.

If given as a gift, he doesn't really understand what the sentimental value is supposed to be, but he is grateful for the present. He most likely keeps them on his nightstand or somewhere where he can see them regularly. He enjoys looking at them and reminds him he's being thought of.

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Pyro- Daisy

If given as a gift, immediately joy! They will definitely reciprocate with flower crowns made from the daisies. Just enough for it and the gift giver to have matching ones. They definitely like being given flowers to make crowns with, but much like Soldier, probably doesn't exactly understand the sentimental value of someone remembering/gifting it's favorite flower

It adores daisies! Something so simple but so beautiful makes them really happy. It really enjoys them and definitely always has some laying around either in a vace or just lying around. Gives them in all forms as gifts regularly, either by leaving them in the places each other merc is at the most, or by giving them it directly.

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Miss Pauling- Lilac

Probably not the most original, but whatever! I think her favorite time of the year is a mix between spring and summer already, and when it's just getting hot enough to have warm, breezes and flowers blooming, she KNOWS lilacs are going to come out and she is so excited!! She loves the smell more than anything, the sights are also beautiful and make her very happy.

She never really gets flowers as a gift, who would have guessed, but she is overjoyed if someone gets her a bouquet of lilacs. Something about people remembering her favorite flower makes her feel... cared for and just a little less stressed out. She will smile at those flowers each time she sees them.

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Went heavily on the symbolism, hm?Anyways, I am SO glad I finally wrote something and that I feel motivated again. Hope you guys liked them! Now, I'm going to bed.

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #tf2 demoman #tf2 engineer #tf2 heavy #tf2 medic #tf2 miss pauling #tf2 scout #tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #tf2 soldier #tf2 pyro #tf2 headcanons #tf2 hc

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xjulixred45x · 3 months

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Lancelot (4Kota) with an S/o similar to Mitsuri Kanroji(KNY)...

Like, reader is probably a hybrid between human and giant, who just looks very human and so on, but has the strength of her giant relative, compressed muscle. She was probably even from some town like Benwick or even lived near the fairies.

but then she started interacting with humans and precisely because of her human appearance (very cute) they accepted her a lot. even with her colossal strength (they thought it was her magical power).

I have a idea/feeling that she would know Lancelot from his travels with Jericho at first por when he come back from his first journey, just the reader could realize his mixed descent and would constantly bug him to be her friend.

I'm not going to lie, at first Lancelot found her a little quite annoying because of her cheerfull attitude and her insistence on being friends, but when he saw her heart he could tell that she was sincere (apart from the fact that the reader would stop if it was too much for him) so he decided at least to let her be close.

reader was someone very bright! which contrasted VERY MUCH with Lancelot's serious and stoic attitude, she would talk and talk and talk to him about things that were happening in the town, something cute she saw the other day, the huge meal that the bartender served her and that she ate it all, etc

Lancelot would just sit still and listen with his typical :| face, but in reality it amuses him that reader is surprised by such everyday things.

Even if Lancelot said that the reader was "annoying" he left out actions that showed the opposite, such as showing her things he brought from his missions, showing her his "Sin" form and in general he listened to her and even gave her advice when she asked for it.

He liked having someone so sincere for so long, but he was pretty bad at saying it verbally, so he just showed it through actions. He's a tsundere kind of guy

(imagine if I gave the reader some type of garment/ornament like in that scene with Mitsuri and Obanai🥺it would be so cute).

Reader also tends to get emotional as they grow up, when she cries, she CRY A LOT, she almost scared Lancelot away when one time she came crying with him, he was ready to kill someone, but the reader had just seen a very big snake in her shed and she got scared😅 (a very common nickname of Lancelot to the reader is "cry baby" or "dork").

By the time they are teenagers, Lancelot not only tolerates the reader more, but also appreciates her a lot, not only because she sticks to him like glue, but because she is very sincere in what she thinks and says, someone he trusts will say the true.

For this reason, Lancelot is quite cautious with the people around her, even if he appreciates and loves her, he recognizes that she lacks a little understanding that not everyone is a good person, especially when she develops a certain phase of being in love.

Although Lancelot didn't spend much time in the city, he tried to give the reader "subtle" clues about which guys were worth it (almost none) and which weren't (almost all). Fortunately or unfortunately, the reader distanced herself from almost all of them except for ONE especially despicable one. But he couldn't really make her stop, so she just rolled her eyes at every mention of the boy.

Lancelot understands that the reader wants to fall in love, in the future maybe get married and start a family, but could she PLEASE stop going after guys who aren't worth it?

The breaking point occurs when THIS JERK not only rejected Reader(that was the least), but despises her for being a giant, telling her horrible things like "only a bear would marry you" and leaving the reader heartbroken.

Obviously the guy doesn't get very far, but the words cut deep into the reader, who never really saw her strength as something bad until that moment (or her big appetite, or "unfeminine" habits) and begins to wonder, is she the one wrong?

Lancelot (even though he is somewhat bad with emotions) had to interfere and not let the reader get to her head, so what if they were rare hybrids? He wouldn't change anything about how she was a reader, NOTHING, just as she wouldn't change anything about him.

It's a nice cute little moment.

If we talk about the current relationship, it is like the dynamic of "sunshine" and "sunshine protector" (better known as "if they're smile disappears YOU DISAPPEAR). or simply an odd couple. The reader tends to be gentler with him group but somewhat clumsy while Lancelot the most responsible but much less gentle...

Even if Reader knows how to fight, there is no way she can match Lancelot's level, so she is more of a rearguard fighter. It should not be taken lightly either. Believe me, Lancelot knows...

they're like:

Lancelot: someone is going to die--(reader covers his mouth with unhuman streng)

reader: OF FUN!

Lancelot and reader take full advantage of reader's ridiculous strength! either for the benefit of people (such as clearing paths or moving heavy stuck objects, for fights, etc) or for certain little jokes.

Lancelot probably encourages the reader to basically train her giant skills, just in case she has to defend the town she lives in or herself. I don't think he can teach her how to use "heavy metal" but he can definitely give some advice regarding elementary handling.

(Lancelot has been carried princess style by reader more times than the other way around, it's fun and cute to see).

Lancelot fully supports the great reader's appetite! She burns a lot of calories with her great strength, so she needs to eat a lot, if reader convinces him enough, they can compete to see who eats the most, they have a great series of ties.

when reader really fights, she's actually pretty good! Only of course, when she eventually reaches her point of greatest exhaustion, she begins to despair and thinks she is going to die😅 Lancelot tells her half jokingly/half lovingly that she is a crybaby, but that she did quite well on her own.

(by the way, only Lancelot can call the reader a crybaby, anyone else gets a hit on the back of the head).

In general, it's like the typical "opposites attract" but it's actually quite healthy✨

Shares, reblogs and comments are very welcome!

#headcanons #fem reader #4kota #4kota lancelot #4kota lancelot x reader #lancelot #lancelot x reader #mokushiroku no yonkishi #4 knights of the apocalypse #4 knights of the apocalypse lancelot #mokushiroku no yonkishi lancelot #fluff #mitsuri kanroji

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heliads · 1 year

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Hiya,baby. I saw that requests were open and I just had to jump on that chance. Can I request a Nikolai Lantsov imagine where reader is a princess from a neighboring kingdom. She and Nikolai are engaged but they both want to marry someone else. Unbeknownst to reader though, that someone else is Nikolai as Stumhond. They were both in similar situations and were tailored but fell in love on the ship. They are both forced to travel across the true sea to get to their wedding venue and at first they're wary of each other but they each start referencing inside jokes and stuff and giving the other mental whiplash as to how they know all of these things. Super fluffy all throughout with a cute reveal at then end. Sorry if this doesn't make sense, this is my first time requesting anything.

hiya,baby yourself, anon

masterlist

Nikolai Lantsov never planned on getting married. Objectively, he knew that it would come at some point, but his eventual wedding always seemed like one of those things of the future that would never truly come to pass. At some point, he would grow older than his brother. At some point, he would outlive his father’s reign. At some point, he would be married.

All of those, now, are true. They happened earlier than he expected, but yes; they are still real, still something that he must recognize at every dawn and every dusk. Far more discoveries have happened along the way, but they still hold strong. With them, too, must stand his marriage.

Marriage is not a thing of love to a Lantsov. That Nikolai knew even before he understood the responsibilities of royalty. His parents may have loved each other at some point, when they were starstruck young things with eyes brighter than their crowns, but nowadays the whole business is more of a hassle than a net win. Nikolai will be married for a political union, but not for him. Never for him.

The contract has already been drawn up. There’s a young woman of significance, a princess from a neighboring kingdom, who will be claiming his hand. Nikolai doesn’t know a whole lot about her, but no one does. She disappeared from the public eye to further her education years ago and just popped back up on the map a matter of months back.

Regardless of her recent activities, her country is wealthy and she is an eligible bachelorette. Nikolai needs a queen, Ravka needs a future; so the lines are drawn. He has yet to meet her in person, but that hardly matters. Y/N L/N will be his wife and there is nothing he can do about it.

He sets out in a week for the wedding. Seeing as her country is located across the True Sea, they’re going to meet up in the Southern Isles, a venue exactly halfway between their two homes. It’s a brilliant display of political maneuvering, and definitely not an excuse for Nikolai to delay the end of his bachelorhood as possible.

By all accounts, this marriage is more than serviceable. Nikolai has sent diplomats and ambassadors over to Y/N’s country countless times, and they’ve all come back bearing messages of her wonderful sense of humor and excellent character. She’s actually a good person, and Nikolai has come to realize that’s worth quite a bit. Factor in the fact that Nikolai can finally count on at least one other nation forced to ally itself with Ravka, and this whole ordeal is technically golden.

To him, though, it is still less than perfect. Actually, this is about as far as Nikolai can get from a flawless celebration, and that’s not just because it won’t be happening on Ravkan territory. No, despite the fact that Nikolai knew since he was a kid that he was never meant to end up dying by the side of someone he loved, he made a mistake anyway.

There’s a woman. Of course there is. Nikolai has no idea where she is. He met her when he was still king of the seas as Sturmhond. He had needed support in a naval battle, she had been the nearest captain, so he asked her for a favor. Proximity hadn’t been the only reason for his asking her specifically, just the one that he told her. Truth was, Nikolai had been hearing about a fearsome captain patrolling the waters for years, and the fact that she robbed only crooked merchant vessels in the interest of helping the needy caught his attention.

Nikolai knew from the very first day of encountering her that she would be on his mind forever. She went by Maradi, named for her favorite saint. According to the legends, a long time ago two lovers from rival fishing villages attempted to run away together. An angry father found out and had one sweetheart’s vessels dashed to pieces. The other dove into the sea, trying to find her man; Sankta Maradi cleared the storm, letting the lovers reach each other. Ever since, the lost and the lovers traveling the waves pay their homage to Sankta Maradi. Nikolai’s favorite privateer happens to count herself among the number of believers.

Maradi is lost to him now, if she was ever his at all. There was a blessed period of a few years in which Nikolai almost thought that he could get away with loving her. He kept that traitorous emotion tucked away behind his lurid teal coat like yet another revolver, but he thought about it, oh how he did. He harbored a secret belief that maybe Vasily would take the throne and Nikolai could stay out there on his ship forever, but of course that was not to be.

So he misses his love, so he feels like he’s betraying her through an engagement of political chessboards and strategically posed kings and queens. There is nothing Nikolai can do about it, but of course his heart will always beg to differ.

At least he has these meager days in which he could still possibly be hers. So he thought, at least, until Zoya arrives at his office door two days later and informs him that Princess Y/N’s ship just touched down on Ravkan shores. Turns out she needs to be there to fulfill some archaic Ravkan tradition regarding the nomination of its rulers. Nikolai knows Zoya kept this information from him so he would have as little time to fight it as possible, and she chose well.

Nikolai wants to run. He can’t, but he wants to. That evening, he’s hosting a banquet in the interest of meeting his soon-to-be wife and forcing smiles just like always. Princess Y/N is as good as they say, quick as a whip and twice as clever, plus pretty to boot. However, even if she were a saint incarnate, she wouldn’t be Captain Maradi, and to Nikolai that’s as good as nothing at all.

Nikolai tries his best to be civil. His country needs that, at least. As much as he complains about the engagement, it would be far worse if Y/N’s country felt insulted and retracted their offer of Y/N’s hand. Nikolai keeps up a perfect demeanor of kindness, but it isn’t legitimate, not really.

Y/N must feel the same way, because even after a few minutes Nikolai is able to detect a hesitation to her smile, a thin veneer of apathy hidden behind the glossed lips and easy laugh. Every now and then, when she thinks someone isn’t paying attention, Y/N gets this look in her eyes like she’s a caged bird wanting nothing more than to fly for miles. She glances at the door just as often– well, just as often as Nikolai, which means that it happens quite a bit.

The night ends eventually, as does the week, flying by in a blur. Nikolai throws out his hands, trying and failing to stop the passage of time, but who can? Certainly not him. Soon enough, he’s standing on the dock of a ship, watching Ravka disappear into a tiny speck of green on the endless blue, and then it’s gone for good and he is stuck on a vessel headed towards a marriage he wants nothing more than to avoid.

Y/N is somewhere on the ship, but Nikolai doesn’t want to think about her right now. Instead, he leans his hands up against the railing of the ship, listening to the creak of the timbers and remembering better times. Sturmhond had only been a temporary dream, of course, a fantasy useful to keep useless younger sons occupied, but Saints, if he hadn’t loved it like nothing else.

It had been intense and crazy and dangerous, far more work than expected, but Nikolai had done it all himself. Not because he was a royal, but because of his own wit and grit. At the end of it, Stumhond was a captain in charge of a fleet, and that sort of power was intoxicating. Even now, standing on a king’s ship run by someone else, Nikolai feels that same sort of tantalizing rush.

After some time, it occurs to Nikolai that he is no longer alone. Someone else has thought the same thing as him and taken it upon themselves to scout out the endless horizon. Nikolai shoots his visitor a quick glance out of the corner of his eye and feels a ripple of shock course through him when he realizes it’s Y/N. He hadn’t known that the princess had an affinity for the sea, but she looks just as heartsick to be out here as him.

She catches him staring about half a second later and a grin slices its way onto her face. “What,” she says slowly, drawing out the syllables, “would you rather I go hide away in my quarters until the voyage is over? You’d have to threaten me at swordpoint.”

It’s more verve than he expected from a dulcet princess, but then again, Nikolai really doesn’t know her all that well, does he?

Nikolai smiles back. “I wouldn’t dare. Unless, of course, you attempt a mutiny. Then I might have to threaten you for real.”

It occurs to him about half a beat later that connecting his future wife and any sort of threat in the same sentence is probably not a good idea. Usually, Nikolai wouldn’t slip up like this. It’s just, well, being out here again is messing with his head. It reminds him of being on his own ship, wearing a different face and answering to a different name.

Sturmhond would have taken it further, he thinks. Sturmhond would have taken out a weapon just to prove his point. And, in return, Maradi would have challenged him to a duel or something even worse than that. No matter how deadly he was, Maradi matched him measure for measure every time. Standing here with the sound of the waves echoing through his ears, he can’t help but think of her.

Saints, he even remembers having a similar conversation several times again. During the early days when Nikolai had just asked for her help on the job, they usually said goodnight by promising to wake the other with a blade to their throat and their ships taken over by morning. Never ceased to make him laugh.

Nikolai blinks hard, trying to drag himself back to reality. He opens his mouth to come up with some way of softening his remark, but Y/N doesn’t look offended or put out. Far from it, actually. Her sharp grin just deepens, clearly pleased.

“If you threatened me in the slightest,” she whispers to him, words half disappearing on the salt breeze, “I would carve out your tongue while you slept and assume command of your vessels. That would be a proper mutiny.”

Nikolai feels as if the ground has just given out beneath his heels. The way Y/N says it, so casually but so intensely, it reminds him of Maradi like nothing else. In fact, he swears she said that exact same line to him before. He had teased her once about not wanting to get salt stains on her sleeves. In return, she had promised to cut out his tongue if he ever dared mention prettiness to her again. They had both laughed and gotten drinks. It had been a wonderful evening.

Nikolai needs to remember, though, that this isn’t real. This is not Maradi. His captain is somewhere out there in uncharted territory, still just as free as the day he met her. This princess, no matter how beautiful nor how dangerous, is a stranger to him and nothing more.

Nikolai straightens, forcing himself to pretend as if he isn’t doubting his own mind. “That would certainly be a sight to see,” he says smoothly, “unfortunately, I tend to keep my doors locked. I find it a far more pleasant method of security than trusting princesses willy-nilly.”

A furrow creases Y/N’s brow, and she seems lost in thought. Nikolai turns his attention back to the sea, but for some reason, he can’t sink himself into it just as easily as before. Now, instead of just hearing Maradi’s voice whispering in the back of his brain, he hears Y/N’s too, the two tones mixing in the mess of his consciousness.

The pattern doesn’t leave him after that first encounter, either. Throughout that day and well into the next few, Nikolai feels like he’s half in a dream. Y/N casually references jokes that Nikolai swore he’s only ever heard when he’s conniving with Maradi. As a test, he does the same thing, name-dropping inside secrets and jobs they did, just the two of them. Every time, Y/N has the same reaction as him, a slight tension appearing in her shoulders, her eyes growing wide.

Maradi would never share his secrets. Sturmhond never shared any of hers, either. Yet how is it that Y/N, Princess Y/N, would happen to know the exploits of Nikolai’s alter ego like the back of his hand? It’s driving him mad. For what might be the millionth time since he left the seas behind, Nikolai wishes that Maradi were there with him. He misses talking through things with her. Nikolai always swore that he made his decisions after even an hour with her, and he knows, he just knows, that if he were to see Maradi again, all would be well.

He has one last night on the ship. They’ll probably dock sometime around late afternoon tomorrow, which gives Nikolai a short window of time if he wishes to make a move while they’re still on board. With the salt air blowing through his hair, the waves providing background symphonies with every step, Nikolai knows that if he’s going to do something, it has to be now. Once he gets on dry land, his ghosts will stop haunting him and Nikolai realizes that he’s been wrong all along. If he’s going to make this mistake, he might as well do it now while he can still believe in himself.

Nikolai heads out to the deck once moonlight falls upon the sails. Most everyone is in bed save for the skeleton crew necessary to keep the ship on track. Still, there’s one portion of the rail where no words can be overheard, and that is where Nikolai finds Y/N. It’s where he used to find Maradi, once upon a time. It is where they always met.

Y/N looks up when she sees him approach. “You know, I’ll be glad to see solid ground, but I’ve always liked being at sea. It feels like home.”

Nikolai gathers up his courage and convinces himself to take this risk. “What do you know about Sankta Maradi?”

Y/N freezes for a moment, and Nikolai watches as she physically forces herself to relax. “She protected lovers at sea. I always liked her best.”

Nikolai nods solemnly. “So did I. Do you think she’ll protect us tonight?”

He meets Y/N’s eyes slowly. She looks more wary than he’s ever seen her. “Only if you think she’s close by,” she replies quietly.

“I do,” Nikolai says, and pulls something out from behind his back.

It’s a knife, blade shining in the light of the stars. It’s well preserved, due only to Nikolai’s careful polishing. The burn of sea salt on the air has a way of wreaking havoc on any weapon to bear its force. Well, technically Nikolai isn’t the one to watch over this particular blade. That was Sturmhond’s task, one that he treasured above any other because Maradi is the one who gave him this knife, and that meant he kept it like his own flesh and blood.

Y/N’s lips part, and Nikolai knows by the gasp that leaves her that yes, his suspicions were right all along. “You’re Sturmhond?” She breathes, seeming only half able to believe the syllables.

Nikolai inclines his head. “I had one of my crewmates tailor me. It wasn’t best for a prince to be seen terrorizing the seas, even a lesser, younger one. I captained the Volkvony, and that is where I met you, isn’t it?”

Y/N nods, eyes shining. She reaches into her pocket and retrieves a signet ring, which she slips onto her finger. Nikolai feels an ache in his chest lessen, something like having a blade removed from his heart. It’s her. This is all the proof he needs. Nikolai remembers seeing that ring on her hand a thousand times: signaling her men to take a ship, reaching for his in the dark of night, wrapped around a pistol or sword. It is the very essence of her, and thus priceless beyond anything else.

“I was tailored too,” Y/N murmurs, “for the same reasons as you, I think. I didn’t want to be a political puppet, I wanted to feel like I was doing something real. And being Maradi was the best part of my life. She was braver than me, more daring, more capable. The day I had to step down, I thought I might die.”

Nikolai leans over to her on impulse, taking her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. “You still found me, though. I’d say that’s pretty capable.”

Y/N chuckles. “It wasn’t on purpose. You were an eligible prince. I was informed that I was to be married to someone within the year. Besides, I had no idea you were Sturmhond until we set sail. If I figured it out any earlier, I wouldn’t have suffered through those banquets quite as unhappily.”

Nikolai pretends to be offended. “You didn’t like my banquets? But Y/N, dearest, I had my stuffiest advisors show up just to make them more fun.”

Y/N laughs. “I seem to remember you being just as miserable as me. You were excellent at hiding it, though.”

Nikolai ponders this. “If I was so excellent, why could you see through me?”

“Because you reminded me of someone I knew better than anyone,” Y/N admits, and Nikolai thinks he must have drowned in the very sea sparkling before him, because nothing else could explain the desperate pang in his heart and lungs.

She smiles at him again. “You’re him, though. Somehow, we found each other, and we’re to be married. Not the worst coincidence in the world.”

Nikolai grins, tries not to let himself implode. “Certainly not. In fact, I couldn’t think of anyone else I’d want to be my bride in all the world. I’ve missed you, my Maradi.”

Y/N accepts his embrace, allowing Nikolai’s arm to pull her close. “No one else but you, Nik. I promise.”

He has trusted her unthinkably for quite some time. He is not about to stop now.

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#nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov imagines #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov oneshot #grishaverse #grishaverse imagines #grishaverse x reader #grishaverse oneshot #shadow and bone #shadow and bone imagines #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone oneshot #grishaverse nikolai #grishaverse nikolai imagines #grishaverse nikolai x reader #grishaverse nikolai oneshot

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box-of-roses · 4 months

Text

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ Letter ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

Characters: Seijoh 4, Y/N, Oikawa’s Fangirls

Synopsis: After spending the entire night trying to make the perfect confession letter you get to the end of the day. In your anxious state you find unlikely help.

Warnings: Confessions

Words: 1353

February 14th. Today. The thought of what you’re going to do makes you cringe. You had spent the whole night trying to write a confession letter. After much editing and rewriting you finally settled on one. You placed it in a carefully picked out envelope and sealed it with your new wax.

You didn't know what to expect from the object of your affections. You feared the worst of course, I mean you’ve barely had three conversations with the man. Despite that though he listened intently each time. He made it at least seem like he cared. Today you were going to find out just how much.

Sluggishly making it through your first classes, letter weighing heavily in your bag. You resisted the temptation to reach down and fiddle with the edges. You didn’t want to give a damaged confession letter when you spent so much time trying to perfect it. This day was going to take so long. Your anxiety weighed on you through the day, your bag feeling heavier and heavier with each minute. Your friends of course noticed and asked if you were okay. You told them of your plan and giggles went around the table.

They weren’t making fun of you. They just thought it was adorable. They were trying to be supportive but you really just wanted the day to be done. Your eyes were growing tired of seeing similar versions of the same chocolates, bears, and flowers. The confession you planned dulled in comparison and you grew more worried it wasn’t enough or right to get your feelings across. One of your friends reassured you that the confession was perfect because it would be from you.

It made you smile how they tried to cheer you up. As the final bell of the day rang you quickly packed your stuff up. You made your way to the gym before stopping. This was supposed to be the easy part, just have to give it to him. Unfortunately you were already stopped. You turn to see a group of Oikawa’s fangirl.

“Are you here to confess?”

“Yeah! To who?” They didn’t seem mean which surprised you. You would’ve though that they would be very mean towards you possibly thinking that you were trying to confess to Oikawa.

“Matsukawa.” You admitted with a cough as you looked away, cheeks heating up. The girls let out an aww.

“Okay! Since we can see you’re nervous we can help. We’ve gone through this plenty of times. Come sit with us during practice so we can help.” The lead girl smiled and took your arm to lead you to the bleachers. Once you all settled into your seats you showed them your letter.

The lead girl, Haru, looked the letter over a calm smile on her face. “This is adorable. I think he’s going to really like it.”

Because they were so caught up helping you they didn’t notice Oikawa come in. Confused, he looked up to see them surrounding one girl. He was a little concerned but when he looked a bit closer he saw a letter in your hand and smiled on everyone’s faces. He smiled mischievously and made his way over to Iwaizumi. “Seems like someone’s getting

confession letter.”

Iwaizumi sighed not wanting to deal with his antics. “No one cares that you’re getting another confession letter Shittykawa.” Oikawa pointed to where his fangirls were sitting closely inspecting a letter.

“I’ve never seen them act like this. It’s most likely not for me.” Little did he know someone was already looking at you. Much to the dismay of Makki.

“Are you going to look at them all practice?” He knew about Matsukawa’s little crush. I mean it was pretty easy to tell: the smiles, the glances, his very red face when he did get to talk to you. Now Matsukawa wasn’t generally a jealous guy but seeing you with a confession letter did something.

The entire practice he thought about who on the team it might be for. He settled on Oikawa. I mean, you were sitting with his fangirls. He didn’t know why they were being so sweet to you though.

After the girls were finished giving you tips on how to confess you all watched the game. They went back to their usual and cheering for Oikawa. They gave you reassuring smiled and thumbs up often though. You started to feel less nervous about what was going to happen in 15 minutes.

You smiled as you watched them all play to their heart's content. It made you happy seeing them happy while they were playing. That seems silly but seeing people really enjoy what they’re doing is the best thing. 13 minutes.

The closer it got the more you looked at Mattsun. You saw him joke around with Makki, saw how he teased Oikawa. Which caused you to laugh as you heard the joke. You muffled it by placing a hand over your mouth though. 10 minutes.

Mattsun looked at you the closer it got to the end of practice too. He cracked more jokes than usual. Hoping you would find him funny. When he saw you laugh he hoped it was because of him and not something Oikawa had somehow done. Makki noticed and patted him on the back. “Simp.” Mattsun rolled his eyes and pushed him a little bit. 9 minutes.

As the minutes counted down the girls returned their attention towards you. “We can come with you if you want. Emotional support and all. Make sure you’re actually able to give it to him.” You smiled. They were being so nice. It was a pleasant surprise when you arrived earlier and they greeted you. You were very thankful for them. 7 minutes.

“I’m still a little nervous but having you guys will help. Thank you.” They nodded and smiled. One girl pulled tape out of her bag and helped close the letter. Another helped you decorate it to keep your mind off of confessing.

“It’s a very sweet confession letter. You’ve got this.” 3 minutes.

Once practice was finally over the boys headed to the locker room to take their showers and change. Mattsun felt more nervous as he was finishing. What if it really was for Oikawa. Makki noticed his nerves and gave him a little smile. “Don’t think too much about it.” He tried. He took a breath through his nose and out his mouth. It helped a little bit.

The girls walked with you to the entrance of the gym and kept you company until they saw him walk out. They turned you around and gave you a gentle push towards him. Your face heated up and you took in a sharp breath. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. You looked at them again to see they were all smiling and giving you a thumbs up. Haru mouthed ‘You got this!’

They disappeared around the corner. You made your way up to Matsukawa. “Hi Matsukawa…can I speak to you for a minute alone?” His face heated up and he felt dazed. Were you trying to confess to him? Surely not? He agreed and you gently held onto his sleeve and pulled him off to an empty corner.

You tried to smile and gave him your letter. “This is for you.” You looked away and scratched your head. Mattsun stared gaping at the letter. It was really for him. He smiled and opened it appreciating the drawing over the surface.

You couldn’t look at him while he read it and were worried. Because you weren’t looking at him though you didn’t see how much he was smiling and the blush covering his face. When he finished he tapped you on the shoulder. “Y/N. Can you look at me?”

You hesitated but eventually met his eyes. He was smiling at you like you hung the stars into the sky. “Can I kiss you?” You were taken aback but nodded with a similar smile on your own face. He leaned in and cupped your face. He placed a gentle kiss on your lips.

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed!!! If you liked this you can find my other works here! Happy Valentine’s Day!!!!

Likes, Reblogs, and Comments are always appreciated

#haikyuu fluff #hq x reader #haikyu x reader #haikyuu x reader #matsukawa issei x reader #matsukawa x reader #haikyuu matsukawa #haikyu fluff

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undiscovered-horizon · 1 year

Note

Hello there :) please could I request something for Vikings with a female reader if possible. Where the reader (a shieldmaiden) meets the ragnarssons for the first time after being taken in by Ragnar when her parents are killed, and they start developing feelings for her later on? 💙

Hey! Thought that making this into headcanons/preferences would be the best format, message me if you want a full work where I elaborate!🌺

🫀REQUESTS ARE OPEN🫀

Vikings preference: Falling for a shieldmaiden taken in by Ragnar

Bjorn A little rough around the edges, at first - you're a complete stranger, after all. Maybe he criticizes your posture one day and you're more than willing to make him prove his 'superiority'. Whether you win or lose is not as important as the sole fact that you were a challenge for him, although he might not outright admit that. Despite being a shieldmaiden and Bjorn having witnessed your abilities first-hand, he still perceives you as a woman first - the burden of upbringing, one might say. Because of that, he often tries to fight your battles for you, both on the battlefield and outside of it. Most of the time it's small things: bringing you this, giving you that. He definitely might come off as overbearing at times but there's no malice in his heart - Bjorn genuinely believes he's doing the right thing. The downside is that even your stern words might not knock off his habits (the two of you fought numerous times about his overprotective attitude). That protective side of him comes out especially strong during cold winter months when he needs to be extra sure that you're well-fed and warm. In his hot and cold attitude, you find irrefutable proof of his affection. After all, what else if not love could bring warmth and care out of a man known for his dauntlessness and reserved attitude? Bjorn puts his fondness into words in a very peculiar manner: suggesting your possible gains. In other terms, he hints at all the goods you'd have and the shortages you wouldn't suffer if he could have your hand. See that pile of wood that's going to last you for at least a month? Or the furs on your bed that are just enough to stay warm on a freezing winter night? Without half-truths and subtext, Bjorn assures you that he could provide you so much more. Although 'could' should be read as 'wants to' - a desire he's determined to fulfil only if you agree to be his.

Ubbe The one who actually talks to you first, with no expectations or prejudice. Even if he did have those, he's capable of looking past them and making a fair judgement only after getting to know you. At first he's a little uncomfortable with the situation and your person because you're kind of like a sister but not really? That apprehension doesn't last long, however: he's a little too smitten with you. To his own surprise, your presence makes the long absence of his father a little easier to bear - Ragnar didn't leave on a whim, he had a reason to do so and it was a good reason. If the other Ragnarsons treat you with malice, thinking of you as the sole reason they had to grow up fatherless, Ubbe is always ready to step in and de-escalate the situation. In some way, he's similar to Bjorn in expressing his affection in the sense of being protective. Ubbe perceives you as a woman, a woman he loves to be exact, and only then a warrior, despite getting a taste of your skills on his own. Just like his half-brother, he'd try to do things for you, deal with the mundane burdens of everyday life; he only cares about you. The thing that sets them apart is Ubbe's willingness to stand back - once he knows you can stand your ground, he lets go a little, although reluctantly. Another thing is that he already acts like your husband despite being yet to earn that title: always being in your vicinity, fighting any men who try to woo you, thinking ahead and gifting you anything you might need in the near future. Whenever his training alongside his brothers, Ubbe tends to tease them saying that you're better than them. Whether that is true or just brotherly spitefulness is yet to be determined. When the moment comes and Ubbe confesses his affections, he's very straight-forward, telling you how much you mean to him.

Hvitserk Curious and fascinated - you're pretty and courageous. Even if you end up rejecting him (a possibility he doesn't think is realistic), you seem like a great person to be around. He's friendly from day one. Keeps hinting at his romantic interest in you through smooth, sublime and yet unambiguous remarks, so there is no doubt about his intentions. In an attempt to spend more time with you, Hvitserk offered to join you in training. Clashing swords and breadth-of-hair ducks were not enough to stop his flirting (you had this growing suspicion that he's also unnecessarily touchy - not that you were one to complain). The only difference from his daily sweet talk was that with a sword in his hand, Hvitserk's words became vividly more explicit. Some of them caught you off guard but once the surprise washed away, you realized you had nothing against those generous offers becoming true. Even if his brothers are also interested in you, he doesn't see them as a competition or a threat of any sort. His approach wouldn't be a surprise to anyone who had even once seen you two together - there was no chance any other Ragnarson could sweep you off your feet. Truth be told, you knew Hvitserk's feelings before he told you, although it should be clarified that he didn't explicitly confess his affections: during a quite intimate moment, in bed and under furs, he suddenly asked you to marry him. Relationship-wise, out of all the Ragnarsons Hvitserk is the one to treat you the most equally to him.

Sigurd Begins to be interested in you simply because his brothers were. Then he noticed your ambivalence towards Ivar and how much it was pissing the youngest brother off and Sigurd was instantly on board - he might yet find an ally in you. Out of the Ragnarssons, he is the most invisible brother and so he didn't quite expect to pique your interest. To his surprise, you're the one to accost him, asking about living in Kattegat and the family reputation he has to hold up. Not to mention all the prince's responsibilities he has to suffer. From your own words, Sigurd learned that, just like him, you're not one for big crowds and front rows, preferring to stray from the eye of the storm that so often seemed to emerge around Ragnar and his sons. He finally found someone who understood his perspective and not only that - they shared it. The two of you are often disappearing somewhere together and the general population of Kattegat quite quickly catches on but you and Sigurd care little about those rumours. Definitely spent hours upon hours coming up with a wax poetic ballad about you. He put himself in one of the verses describing his growing fondness for you. Luckily for him, he won't have to change the verse about the shieldmaiden loving some guy named Sigurd back.

Ivar Acts like he doesn't care and tries to make himself believe that mainly because deep inside he had immediately dismissed the possibility of you being interested in him. You've heard stories of course but a certain degree of scepticism is a trait of a good warrior - it keeps you level-headed. Once when you were sitting on the pier, enjoying a moment of solitude, Ivar approached you only to ask about his father. After all, you'd spent more time with Ragnar than he did, even if he wasn't your actual parent. While sharing stories about the famous Ragnar Lothbrok, Ivar noticed that you're neither apprehensive nor fearful of him. In a way, it upsets him - he found himself in a situation where he doesn't have the upper hand. But this surprising and wholly unwelcome vulnerability didn't backfire. Truthfully, the longer you talked about the legend of Ragnar Lothbrok, the more Ivar wished you would stop talking about his father and simply talk about yourself. Except for his parents, you were the only person whose presence he didn't completely detest and Ivar was yet to make an opinion on how that made him feel. He definitely hates seeing you interact with his brothers as he naively thought that he was the only recipient of your sympathies and it's exactly that lack of exclusivity that makes him go out on a limb and make less-than-ambiguous remarks that you happily reciprocate. Sometimes, when he can't sleep at night, Ivar climbs onto his father's throne and dwells on various fantasies of glory and bloodshed. In those dreams, there's always a place for you - a brave and beautiful shieldmaiden that rides into battle by his side and gives birth to his children, who go on to become kings, emperors and conquerors.

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mvffy0 · 2 months

Note

grabbing an afternoon snack with nanami please 🫰

“Snack Run!”

salaryman Nanami Kento/F!reader

Nanami is ooc in this one, sorry 😔 hes hard to write.

took the story in a bit of a diff direction from your request!

not proofread!

There was something about you that Nanami simply could not pinpoint. Something about you that ignited within him a feeling that was completely foreign.

You were quite an ordinary, if not painfully plain woman. Similar to his other simple, middle-aged co-workers, he assumed you had a basic upbringing, following the path craved out for humans with no cursed energy from the moment you were born. To grow, learn, graduate, and end up at some dingy 9-5, working until there is nothing left in you. That was your—and everyone else at this corporate firm's—responsibility in life. That much, Kento was aware of.

You were a respectable person, a dependable coworker, and an admirable associate. Ideal for the workplace and easy to be around, as was expected from anyone who wished to succeed in any field. Yes, you were completely, totally ordinary. A regular human, unaware of the dangers of curses that lay dormant, coexisting with people every day. A completely straightforward and unassuming woman.

That’s what he tried to convince himself, at least. He did not see a reason to pursue a relationship with you outside of work, but there were times when, even against better judgment, he wished he could.

Even after renouncing Jujutsu and making the ultimatum to enter the 'real world’, Kento would be lying if he said he did not find it difficult to adapt. Not when everyone around him went about their lives, blissfully unaware of the dangers that lurked. His past haunted him, and the tiny curses he pretended not to see while in the city served as a painful reminder of the life he ran away from.

Nanami was not one for human relations. He did not see an urgent need for it. After joining a regular company and assuming the bleary job of a salaryman, Nanami was convinced that that was what he would spend his days doing, no matter how unfulfilling. Because, to Kento, anything was better than jujutsu. Any alternative was innumerably greater than the one thing that caused his best friend's death. Kento rejected jujutsu and, unintentionally, along with it, repudiated any sort of relationship, be it romantic or platonic. He avoided company events, never showing up to parties or joining the others for drinks. His intentions when working were to work. There was no time to waste and no reason to pursue friendships with any of these people.

They were different from him. They were unable to witness the horrors that he did regularly, nor were they plagued by the constant grim reminder of their existence. Never had these people, with their own hands, eradicated a curse or inhaled the sickening stench of one in its final moments. They did not bear witness to the terrifying aftereffects of a curse's murderous rampage. They were far too different, and every waking moment spent with his oblivious peers made it all the more apparent. He found it incredibly hard to relate to such a heedless crowd, and keeping up a good relationship with such unaware souls sounded exhausting. So he didn’t, preferring to keep to himself at the edge of the circle of workers, always withdrawn and minding his own. This, he decided, was the ideal way to get by.

This didn’t make him a hardy person; don’t get him wrong. Nanami cooperated when needed and made it a point to not be overbearing, obnoxious, or hard to work with. All this meant was that to get close to Nanami, you would need to cross leaps and bounds, overexerting your emotional limits and trying your hardest to keep the stony, aloof blond man at arms length.

And for some reason, that was exactly what you did.

You, who were just as boring and plain as everyone else. You, who despite his cold demeanor, made every effort to get close to him. You, who no matter how many times he intentionally shut the door leading to the lush garden that was your blossoming kinship, grabbed a crowbar and forced it open time and time again. No moment with you was dull, he realized, and at times he found himself subconsciously seeking you out when entering the office. Because of you, Nanami's days were a little brighter, and though he would never admit it, you were growing on him.

Which is why, when you swung by his neat little cubicle during lunch, a grin adorning your face and wallet in hand, politely requesting that he join you for a 'snack run’, just the two of you, he could not find it within himself to refuse.

Not when you looked at him like that.

Not when your innocent yet exceedingly observant gaze sent riveting emotion through his very being, feelings of confusion, excitement, wariness, and yearning amalgamating to form one huge, lumpy ball of mixed emotion far down inside. Often did Kento feel that you could see right through him, and he was thoroughly convinced that your piercing eyes were constantly peering into his soul, deep into the corners of his being where his most confined secrets lie. Secretly, it scared him, and even more covertly, he found himself enjoying your deliberate gaze, so long as it was on him, and only him.

Was it obvious he felt the way he did?

He rose from his chair in silent agreement, grabbing his keys from his drawer and beckoning you to follow suit.

Confused, you hesitated for a split second, before he turned slightly, his sharp side profile facing you.

It wasn’t for long, but Nanami caught your momentary confusion. He really needed to get better at communicating.

“I’ll Drive.” He stated curtly, waiting for you to catch up before exiting the building together.

•••••

Nanami drove a small, modest car, you noticed. You seem to be noticing a lot about him these days. From the calm yet cautious way he carries himself, almost unsure if the way he’s doing things is okay, down to his small habits you doubt he noticed himself, like the slight twitch of his eye when a subordinate tried to talk to him for too long or the grim look on his face as he politely declines yet another invitation for drinks with the company. You noticed everything about him, from his sharp, well-kept clothing, with never a wrinkle or stain in sight, to the gray streaks in his hair and the crows feet growing in the corners of his long eyes. There was one thing, however, that caught your attention after getting to know the man for the year that you've worked as a salarywoman.

You could sense a hidden turmoil within the man, courtesy of growing up with some…complicated siblings. The result of an unknown, unseen attack on your home and parents left you, the eldest, to care for two traumatized children, who were left practically nonverbal from the attacks, and because of this, had immense trouble voicing emotion. You weren't completely aware of the details as you weren't home at the time of the attack, but you could faintly recall the days after, when your brothers spluttered nonstop about seeing something horrifying before completely shutting down. While hopping from home to home, you spent a good chunk of your life guessing what your two younger brothers were feeling, using your enhanced judgment to properly care for your broken family in unfamiliar places before your inevitable separation with your only family, courtesy of the foster care system. It was frustrating, but because of this, you had learned to read people early on, and your coworker Nanami was a huge, hulking red flag when it came to stress and self-doubt. And, whether through instinct or habit, you had found yourself drawn towards the man.

•••••

The car he drove was simple and likely a calculated purchase. It wasn’t extravagant, yet not dingy either. It didn’t stand out at all; however, you had a feeling that was exactly what he was going for. It was, overall, a suitable car for a salaryman and a fitting car for him. Sporting a dark, sleek gray color with sharp edges and black accents, the car's seemingly hardy features closely resembled the man next to you. You’ve heard that a lot of people look like their cars, and Nanami’s seemed to match him almost to a tee. The thought was quite humorous, and you bit back a laugh as you lowered yourself into the car, Kento holding the door open for you before closing it with care and entering from the opposite side.

Frankly, you had no idea why Nanami agreed to come with you, and, Frankly, you were over the moon!

At first, you were drawn to Nanami’s closed-off demeanor and his stoic face, which looked as though it held a never-ending catacomb of dark secrets. You wanted to analyze the man, study his inner workings, and grasp his deep-seated desires. Call it a nasty habit, but you wanted nothing more than to pry open his thick shell and coax him into the outer world. It was your way of expressing your desire to befriend the silent, reticent man.

The thought was consuming at first; however, as you got to know the man, you could not avoid the growing romantic attraction and tasteless enameration that formed for Nanami Kento. Your previous desire for friendship had blossomed into something more, and before long, you found yourself longing for the man from cubicle #3.

You wanted to be with him, to hold him, to reassure him, and to tell him everything would be okay. You wanted him to smile for once, to smile at you. You wished for nothing more than to see him happy and make him laugh, and your desires quickly took shape in the form of a silly workplace crush.

You steadily grew your relationship with the man, and before long, it became your little custom to offer him lunch or ask him to accompany you on meaningless tasks. He rarely accepted and was yet to seek you out himself; however, you summed up that it was due to his reserved persona, and as long as he wasn’t bothered by your flow of invites, you had no intention of stopping them.

•••••

The car ride was becoming increasingly silent, and awkwardly so. Nanami was not one for idle conversation. He preferred conversations that were short and to-the-point and promptly deemed it a waste of time early on in life, but now he realizes he was foolish to dismiss such an inane skill. He peered at you from the corner of his eye, the dark tint of his glasses masking his examining gaze.

You seemed content simply looking out the window, most likely lost in thought, he mused. Yet the silence was deafening, even for him. He turned his eyes back to the road ahead before your sweet voice drifted into his brain and consumed his thoughts, interrupting his previous mental vomit.

“Would it be alright if I played some music?” You looked at him expectantly, smiling as you waited for an answer.

“Go ahead.” was all Kento could manage. He could feel his composure slipping, and for the first time in a long, long time, he could feel his hands getting clammy and his body getting stiff. Sure, he was grateful that you were the one to break the silence, but did he seriously have to clam up after just a few words spilled from your mouth? God, just what kind of effect did you have on the poor man? He silently prayed you didn’t catch onto his outlandish behaviour as he gave you directions on how to connect your phone to the car's speakers, his eyes never leaving the road ahead of him.

Soon, music filled the car, and Nanami was more than shocked to hear that it was a song he recognized. It was from his high school days, and although it was a rather…corny pick for an adult, he could not bite back the grin that grew on his features, and before he knew it, he had forgotten his previous anxieties and blurted out the start of a conversation.

“I didn’t know you liked this band.” He said, voice laced with amusement.

“I know it’s not an ideal pick for an adult,” you smiled sheepishly. “But I’ve liked this band since high school. It’s been stuck with me ever since.”

“The same goes for me. Though I don’t tend to listen to music very often nowadays,” He was smiling fully now, entirely enjoying just conversing and driving around with you.

“What’s your favourite song from this band? Or, was, Back when you were in school, I mean?” You leaned towards him in your seat, your eyes locked onto his driving form. He chuckled, his deep voice reminding you of thick, running honey, oozing into your mind and blocking all rational thought as it coated its walls with its sweet, sticky, irremovable substance. It was outright music to your eager ears. That was the first time you'd ever heard the man laugh, and as he began to recall his outlandish childhood music taste, you replayed the mellifluous laugh in your mind. The car's heavy awkwardness was soon overridden by the sweet melody of stories and laughter.

•••••

The ride to the convenience store was short and pleasant, yet a thought bearing confusion lingered in your mind. The place in which you and Nanami worked was smack dab in the middle of a busy, bustling Tokyo, so there was no doubt a convenience or grocery store near your workplace. Multiple, that were in fact, so near that it made no sense for you to take a car to one 10 minutes away. There was a closer one that you frequented during lunch hours, and it was true that the small store nearest to your place of earning lacked a plethora of snacks you particularly enjoyed, but he couldn’t have known that, right? You stuffed your concern back from which it came as you entered the store—the chime of the automatic door announcing you and your companions arrival. He grabbed a basket and motioned for you to walk beside him as you strolled into an aisle.

“We should split up so we can save time. Is there anything you want?” You asked the towering man beside you.

“Actually, I was hoping we could go together.” His words surprised both himself and you, however it was far too late to retract them. “It’s a relatively small store, so we won’t be wasting time. Is there anything particular you had in mind?” He inquired, not failing to gaze at you directly throughout. His eyes shoved the image of scintillating morning dew cascading off of verdant green leaves into your mind, and like a sailor navigating their way through a raging storm, you felt yourself washing adrift within his watchful eyes. You were down nefariously bad for this man.

It wasn’t until he cleared his throat at your lack of response that you were snapped out of your trance. A stuttered apology fell from your lips, and as you regained your composure, your previous inquiries fell upon your mind, dissipating whatever answer you were forming to his question.

“I was wondering,” you began, choosing to look at the wall behind him to save yourself from repeating your embarrassing actions. “Why didn’t we just go to the store near the company? It would’ve been much easier.”

“I remember you saying this store had better snacks, that’s all. Come now; we should get going.”

He answered without looking at you this time before dipping into a random aisle under the guise of spotting something he wanted. Had you really mentioned that before? Wait, even if you had, did he seriously remember? Either this man had an impeccable memory or… OH.

You didn’t want to get ahead of yourself, but the look on his face as though he was caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to before entering the lane and the pink tinge on his ear as you now walked behind him was conformation enough that he considered the two of you friends. You were beyond excited, especially since this meant Kento viewed you in a (kind of) similar light. Even if yours was in a more romantic sense. You appeared to be close enough now to allow some teasing, no?

“You were thinking about me, weren’t you?” You cooed, striding up to your flustered coworker. He grabbed something off the shelf and shoved it into the basket, ignoring your teasing and instead busying himself with reading the label on some random item, his nose scrunched in slight annoyance at himself for being so careless. There were numerous thoughts whizzing through his cranium. Had you figured him out? Were you going to reject him? Or assume he was just being caring in a platonic way? It was true that he came to this specific store because it had snacks you liked, but he didn’t think you would catch on. He’d have to tread lightly from here on out so as not to give his true feelings away.

“I just happened to remember.” He grumbled, adjusting his glasses and watching you place a rather peculiar item into the basket. Maybe it was his turn to tease you and swiftly shift the focus from himself.

“Since when did you like black liquorice?” He quipped, shooting you a knowing gaze.

“I just happened to remember that you liked it,” you answered, directing his previous words back at him.

“Thinking about me?” He said the words lowly in a way that shouldn't have made your face feel hot, mimicking your prior teasing and causing both of you to erupt in laughter, although his was much more hushed.

Your excursion took a surprisingly delightful turn and continued like this for some time, the two of you sharing playful banter like you had known each other all your lives instead of one meager year. Unbeknownst to you, he was infinitely glad you had brushed his previous actions of choosing this store just for you off as meaningless. The two of you walked to the register, with you laughing at something he had said prior to reaching your current location.

“You mean to tell me,” You cackled, holding your stomach in slight discomfort from earlier intense laughter. “You had an emo side part back in high school?”

“That’s not what I called it, but, yes. It was embarrassing, but nothing comes close to that pixie cut you said you had. What a horrendous choice.”

For the first time, Nanami didn’t mind that he was (but mainly you were) being loud in a public space. Social etiquette could throw itself out of a window for all he cared. Because, the way you were smiling right now, at a story HE told, it was as if you had hung the stars in the sky, judging by how giddy he felt. He had to admit, he was completely enamoured, so much so that checkout and paying for your hefty load of confectionaries (much to your protest) went by in a blur. Before long, you were out of the store, across the cracked parking lot, and reaching his dashing vehicle, the afternoon sun hanging high in the air. He wordlessly went through the rituals of opening your door for you before going in through his own. The ride back was indistinguishable from the one there, save for the air of familiarity the previous one lacked.

•••••

“I had fun, Kento. Can I call you Kento? I should’ve asked before, sorry .” You grinned at him, exiting the car but making no move to enter the looming building before you. There were 20 minutes left of your lunch break.

“It’s completely fine. I had fun too.” He assured, mirroring your actions. A thin silence hung in the air, before you cocked your head towards the company premises, beckoning him to walk alongside you.

You strolled up to the building, a conflicted look on your face all the while. What were you thinking about? he wondered. Did you secretly have a bad time? Did he do something wrong? Suddenly, you stopped dead in your tracks just inches from the entrance, a confused Nanami halting in front of you and turning around to shoot you a bewildered look.

“I haven’t properly thanked you yet, Kento.” You said softly, your view rising from the dusty sidewalk beneath you to the unreasonably attractive man before you. Meeting his leafy eyes was a struggle, and it took quite a bit of control to not lose yourself within them. “So, Thanks a bunch, Nanami. I really appreciated it.” You finished, deciding that just a verbal thanks would not suffice. Holding him lightly by the tie, you mustered the courage to place a tender, yet grateful peck on his sharp jaw, not quite reaching his full cheek. You desperately hoped he would brush it off as gratitude, had he not reciprocated your feelings.

You were fully prepared to sidestep him and walk into the workplace when, without warning, he grasped your shoulder, lifting your chin upwards and meeting your shocked gaze. The fact that you had unintentionally returned his feelings gave him the confidence to pull through. Right now, he wanted nothing more than to kiss you all over.

“Is this alright?” He asked, his warm breath fanning over your face. Nanami smelled fondly of musky cologne and something else you failed to identify, yet it left you captivated all the same.

Your hands were clasped awkwardly in front of your chest, unsure of what to do. Nanami, noticing this, took them in his hands and placed them on his broad shoulders before repeating his question. With half-lidded eyes, you gave him the green light, and not for a second did you regret your choice.

Though the kiss was short, courtesy of being situated right in front of glass doors, and in public to boot, it did not fail to convey the unbridled passion the two of you held for each other. He kissed you tenderly and fervidly, and you had no choice but to relay Kento’s passion tenfold. The moment your lips parted left you yearning for more, a small involuntary whine voicing your emotion. Nanami smiled down at you, one hand on your waist and the other pressing a button on his keys, hand outstretched to lock his car.

“If you’d like,” he whispered, cutting the contact he had on you and retreating both hands to his dress pant pocket. He motioned to open the door to the building, placing one hand on the push handle before continuing. “We can meet here after clocking out.”

“To finish what we started?” You asked, half teasing and half desperately hoping that was what he meant.

“No, to get your grocery bags from my car.” He said bluntly, relishing the dejected look on your face. “And, to continue where we left off.” He entered the building with long strides, but not before giving you a coy, suggestive grin.

You stood there on the pavement, dumbfounded and jaw agape. He seemed to be better at teasing than you were. Also, had he just?? Did he seriously-?? No coherent sentence or thought could be formulated within your mind, and the soft ache of your lips only added to your longing for the cream-haired man. Safe to say, you would be giddily awaiting the end of your shift, not just for the snacks.

i started spewing hot garbage like 2 paragraphs in ☹️🙏

thanks for reading my corny word vomit, please send requests! any and all characters/fandoms welcome

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