It Took A While To Remove His Clothes; He Took His Time With The Straps And Buckles Of His Armor. Finally,

It took a while to remove his clothes; he took his time with the straps and buckles of his armor. Finally, he had removed the last piece and was left with nothing but his ill-fitting skin. He tucked his hands behind his back and stood on display for her like a soldier standing to attention. This was only one of the many times he'd had to do this but that didn't make it much easier.

She was especially beautiful today with flowers tucked into her hair that complimented the gold blooms embroidered on her wedding dress. She pushed the veil back now like she wanted to get a better look at him.

"Oh," she breathed. "You..."

 He didn't look her in the eye, wanting to save himself from whatever he'd find there. Would she even stay long enough to spend the night with him? Would she sleep in the same bed? Forget about consummating their marriage, he'd be lucky if she even looked at him the same after this. Still, she was in the same room as him with her delicate scent engulfing his senses. It took a lot of willpower not to get visibly aroused.

"There are so many scars," she breathed. "How did you get such a collection?"

"Different monsters throughout the years," he muttered. "Are you done?"

 "It's fascinating. So, each scar has a memory." She reached out to touch a prominent one on his chest.

Despite seeing her reach out it still startled him when her soft hand fell on his skin. He reacted far too strongly to that, jumping back and nearly tripping over his discarded shoes. He caught his balance with a hand on the foot of the bed and stared at her, unwilling or unable to explain himself.

She had stepped back too and now stood with her hand lightly touching her neck, looking vaguely horrified. He knew he seemed more like a wild animal at this point than a man. Hilarious.

"When was the last time you were touched by anyone at all?"

 "A long time ago," he admitted, straightening from the half-crouch he'd been in.

"The Great Dragon of Elinia, too powerful to touch," she tried to joke.

He stared at her with a flat, unwavering gaze. She came alive, taking a small step towards him. He forced himself not to back away and huffed out a breath, watching her carefully. Many of his ill-fated marriages had begun and ended with his bride trying to kill him on the first night, often with a knife she had hidden in her dress.

But this bride either had no knife or was simply awaiting a better opportunity. She lifted her hand again and gently placed it against his skin. He shifted his weight from one foot to another, eyes fluttering shut as a little tension washed away from him.

"You're beautiful," she murmured.

His eyes snapped open and he tensed again, a snarl trapped in his mouth. He worked his jaw for a moment and then said darkly,

"Liar."

"I'm not! Not many can endure a dragon's flame and come out not only alive but gifted with its power," she said earnestly. "I admire your strength."

He was partly amused but largely angry.

"Does it look like it was worth it?" He sneered. "Look at me."

"I am," she said softly. "And I think you're beautiful."

He jolted away, seething. "You don't mean it. You cannot possibly mean it. What is your ulterior motive? What do you want from me? Money? Fame? My heart on a platter to take back to Galamath?"

"We're married. I know it was out of convenience for both our families, but you interest me. I could do worse."

He snorted and turned away.

"Others have tried to kill you," she said it like it was a new revelation.

"You didn't know?" He turned back slowly. "The world is cruel to its own, woman. Crueler still to mutants."

"But you help people."

"It makes no difference to them," he said. "Change out of that dress."

 She clutched at the piles of silk along her waist and raised her eyebrows.

"We have to share the bed," he grunted. "That's all."

"You wish only to sleep?" She frowned, her eyebrows furrowed. "What about-"

"I do not want to get killed in my sleep so don't even try." He strode into the bathroom without a backward glance.

He could hear the rustle of her clothes as she struggled out of the many intricate layers. It sounded like she needed help, but he didn't move.  He could almost picture himself helping her, pulling on those delicate ribbons that held up her dress in the back. And she'd be exposed to him, delicate and womanly. He gritted his teeth as he became aware of a fierce throbbing between his legs. He looked down, biting his lip.

 He braced himself with one hand against the wall and hesitantly touched himself. He stifled a grunt as he wrapped his hand around his cock. His palm was a little too rough and dry but he didn't care. He jerked himself off, biting down on his bottom lip to keep from making too much noise. He came hard all over his hand, spilling onto the marble floor. He cursed and fetched a towel, grumbling to himself.

When he finally emerged from the bathroom he was freshly washed and dressed in a pair of silk pants. It wouldn't hide an erection but it was comfortable and he figured in the dark it wouldn't matter. She turned to him, his brush in her hand.

"Sorry, it was the only one I found." Her gaze lingered on his bare chest.

"It's fine." He lay down and folded his hands over his stomach. "When you're ready for bed, turn off the lamps," he said.

She went into the bathroom and he closed his eyes. When she came out, he kept his eyes closed and breathing even so that he looked like he was asleep. She came around to his side of the bed just like he thought and he waited for her to strike him. But, she never did. After a few seconds of staring at him, she turned off the lamps and went around to her side of the bed, and lay down.

In the darkness, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He waited several minutes until her breathing slowed. She was asleep! After nearly half an hour, he fell asleep as well. But he was ready to wake up the moment she tried something. He was eventually woken up as she turned over and rolled against him.

His eyes opened and he held still. However, she was not awake, only moving in her sleep. Her nightdress had ridden up above her thighs and was pushed up even further as she slung one leg over both of his, pushing closer, murmuring. He could feel the warmth radiating from between her legs inches away from his leg. He was slightly ashamed to feel the blood rush to his cock. He tried to shift away but her hands came out and clutched at him and with a blissful sigh, her hips moved in a sinuous rolling motion against his thigh.

He hissed in a breath, feeling hints of her feminine parts brush against him. What was she doing?

"Oh," she moaned groggily, eyes opening slowly.

He kept his eyes closed, unwilling to take the blame for her actions. She was the one pressing against him, she couldn't say he'd done anything. But she didn't shake him awake and demand answers. Instead, she let out a tiny moan and opened her legs wider, pressing harder against his thigh. He licked his lips, thinking she was mad to believe he'd stay asleep while she ground against him like that. Her actions were beginning to make a wet spot on his pajama pants and his nostrils flared as the scent of her arousal permeated the air.

He clenched his fists into the sheets to keep from reaching for her. She probably still thought he was asleep and he didn't want to scare her.

"Fuck," she hissed in frustration, unable to bring herself to climax against his thigh alone and he bit back a small smile.

And then her hand happened to brush against his cock and they both sucked in a breath. Him in arousal, her in surprise.

"How long have you been awake?" She asked, her form barely visible thanks to the moonless night.

"A while," he said, staring at the ceiling.

She hesitated and he almost thought she would return to her side of the bed, but then her hand brushed against his cock again and his legs jerked minimally, trapped underneath her own. He bit back a groan.

"Maybe we can help each other?" She said courageously. "Please?"

 She didn't even have to ask for him to say yes but she didn't need to know that.

"What do you want?" He asked, voice low and gruff with lust.

"Help me cum," she said, and her unabashed words shot bolts of electricity through his body.

"Are you sure?"

She straddled his thighs, pulling her night dress up around her waist.

"Please," she said and he grunted in acquiescence.

The dark shrouded them like a blanket and even though he could see better than her, she took his hand and helped to guide it between her legs.

"There," she whispered as his finger pressed against her clit. "Oh god, yes."

She was so very wet. He wondered enviously, which man had she dreamt of before she awoke. She moaned sweetly, bracing her hands on either side of his body.

"Please," she whispered, wet and slippery against his fingers. "Give me more."

He pressed a finger against her entrance and felt it sink into her hot walls. She sat up, tense and breathless.

"You have such thick fingers," she mused. "Add another."

He did, enjoying the sound of her moans as he searched for the best way to press into her that had her hips jerking forward to ask for more. So he added a third finger and she froze breath catching.

"Slower. Let me have a moment to adjust," she asked, pressing a hand to his chest.

"Are you a virgin?" He frowned.

"No. It has been a while. My first took what he wanted and left. I don't blame him because he didn't know better but it wasn't a wonderful experience."

 "And now?" He couldn't help but ask.

"What do you think?" Her voice trembled and broke. "Your fingers feel so good inside me."

He couldn't help but groan in response. She had been frank and quick to speak her thoughts when they had first met at the wedding party but he hadn't expected the same in the bedroom.

She took a deep breath and said, "The next time I was with him I got on top of him and I didn't let him cum until I had twice. Some people need to be taught. But you-" She gasped and shivered. "You know exactly what to do."

Indeed, he did. Then again, she was curiously receptive and sensitive to his touch. Perhaps the dark made it better when she couldn't see him and his mangled, scarred skin. She came hard against his hand, squeezing around his fingers as she made a small sobbing sound and fell against his chest.

"Are you all right?" His free hand stroked her hair and he licked his fingers clean, shivering at the pure sensuality of her taste.

"That was amazing," she hummed. "You were very patient."

 "I don't see what you mean," he replied, freezing up when she shuffled herself down his legs and seized his cock which still throbbed.

The heat returned with vengeance and he heaved himself up on his elbows, peering down at her.

"You mustn't force yourself," he muttered. "I can take care of myself."

"Nonsense. Let me repay the favor," she said, tugging on the band of his pants.

He lifted his hips for her and she pulled them off, running her hands over his scarred thighs. Her hands quickly found his cock, almost like she was impatient to hold it in her hand.

"Now this is a prize," she murmured, rubbing her thumb over his slit, which leaked a rather copious amount of pre-cum over her fingers.

"Are you always this virile?" She giggled.

His breath caught in his throat and blocked whatever he wanted to say. He was already so worked up that it wouldn't take much to get him to explode. The pace she set was edging him and he was far too wound up to tolerate it. He put his hand around hers and increased the pace, throwing his head back against the pillow.

"You're so handsome like that," she murmured. "I can't believe I get to have you."

"Shut up," he hissed but she paid him no mind.

"I'll get you to believe me eventually," she said in determination.

His response came in shambles as she brushed his hand away and leaned over to kiss the tip of his cock. He tried to keep his noises to a minimum but couldn't help snarling like an animal as she took more of him into her mouth. He clutched at the pillow to keep from clutching at her hair instead. His hips moved of their own accord, thrusting his cock into her warm, wet mouth. She mumbled unintelligible words but they sounded encouraging.

"Fuck," he rasped and his hand came down to rest on her head, pushing her further down on him until she choked on his length. "Stop," he hissed, battling against his desires. "Stop, damn it."

She lifted long enough to catch her breath and utter an imperious "no" before she wrapped her lips around him again. He couldn't help himself anymore and came, spilling in her mouth. She swallowed and licked him clean, humming contentedly. His chest heaved as he struggled to calm his racing heart. She giggled and tucked her body against him.

"That was perfect," she said.

He grunted and held her close, breathing in her scent. He slept deeply this time, deep enough that she could take up the jewel-encrusted dagger that she had hidden behind the lamp on the side table. He had been so suspicious of her and he'd be furious if he found it but she didn't care, because that dagger was not for him. He was hers now and she had no intention of hurting him in any way. People had already done plenty of that.

When he woke up, it was so sunlight creeping in through the blinds to warm his naked skin. He sat up, combing his hands through his tangled hair. The space beside him was empty. He stared for a long time and sighed. So, she had decided to leave after all. This was another thing he was used to; his brides escaping into the forest around his house and getting lost. He would always retrieve them and bandage any wounds they had gotten and send them back to their homes and return to his alone.

How many more marriages would he endure in this fashion? He stood and dressed briskly and went straight down to the stables to saddle a horse and go after his bride. The stable hand, a usually quiet lad, was unusually talkative. But he wasn't in the mood for conversation and held up a hand to silence him. As soon as he was in the saddle, he cantered off into the forest.

Three hours later he returned in defeat, sweaty and pissed. It wasn't often that they went far enough that he couldn't find them. Or worse, they had already been attacked by a wild animal. But he had found no traces of blood so he could only assume that she had found her way out of the forest by herself. He stormed into the house, snapping for a maid to heat water for him to bathe.

He yanked his jacket off, trying to suppress the urge to put holes in the wall.

"So, you do care about me," someone said softly.

His head jerked up. There was his bride, unharmed, wearing his robe. She had never left. Suddenly, he realized that must have been what the stable hand was trying to tell him. He felt a little foolish and simply stood and stared at her, confused.

 "Why are you still here?" He asked roughly.

"I mean to stay," she said, stepping forward and slipping her arms around him in an embrace. "You need a bath and your hair is a mess. Come, I'll help you."

He followed her quietly, contemplating the warmth blooming in his heart. It was a foreign feeling he did not yet know, but he would soon learn that it was called love.

next to you

“rin, is something wrong?” you look across the table at your boyfriend of 2 weeks. “…no,” he focuses on eating his cheesecake but the small pout on his lips says otherwise. “hey, you can tell me,” you say. “it’s nothing…” he trails off. 

you think he looks kind of cute like this, hesitant and embarrassed. but you aren’t able to help him if he keeps quiet like this. “i can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong, rin,” you gently nudge his leg with yours under the table. 

after another beat of silence, rin finally opens up. “the distance,” he says, “is too…far.” “what?” you ask, confused. “i…want to sit closer to you,” he mutters shyly, avoiding your gaze. “o-oh…” you stutter at his confession. “it’s stupid, i know,” rin pokes his cheesecake again. “no rin, that’s not stupid,” you smile, getting up from your seat. 

“hm?” he looks up at you with those wide teal eyes that make your heart palpitate. you round the table and plop down on the seat next to him. “happy?” you look over at rin whose cheeks have turned a pale pink. 

“closer,” he mumbles. you scoot a tiny bit closer to rin. “closer,” he voice comes out close to a whine at this point. “rin, we’re literally right next to each other,” you chuckle at his clinginess. rin gently grabs your arm and pulls you impossibly closer to him. you two end up so close that half your leg ends up resting on his chair. rin takes it a step further as he intertwines your hands together under the table. 

“there,” rin’s lips upturn slightly as he goes back to eating his cheesecake. cute, you think giddily as you go back to eating your dessert as well. 

this has been sitting in my drafts for sooooo loooong, it's mostly born from how mean people can be in this fandom about poor Oli looking the way he does. I love his messy 'I don't have my life together' look, it's very relatable, but today we putting him under tha razor!

summary. when Oliver finds himself forced to get a clean shave for some important club event he tries to rope you into doing the work for him. and you do it, cause he is too charming and you can't resist spoiling this man

pairing. Oliver Aiku x reader

wordcount. 2,6k

warnings. some slight mention of nsfw stuff but veeeery slight, it's mostly domestic fluff, just pure distilled domesticity shot straight into your veins, you've been warned

"Really Oliver, you pestering me during work hours to do that for you?"

Giving one last hard stare at your screen, you groaned and swiveled you chair around to face the man currently breaking the peace in your office. With hair still damp from his shower, Oliver stood bare foot before you - a trail of wet footsteps clear behind him. God, you'd lost count of how many times you'd told him he'd end up sick if he kept doing that.

"Oh come on, it's not that big of a deal," he insisted, cutting off your thoughts, pouting as you fitted him with a steely gaze. "I neeeeed you."

You roll your eyes at his whiny antics - and complete disregard for your work life. It was almost funny to see a grown man pout like this, especially when you contrasted the silly expression with this statuesque of a man. You couldn't help but let your eyes roam free for a moment, taking in the sight of him. Water droplets still rolled down his strong torso, taking your gaze to the short hair trailing down his lower abs, to the point where his sweatpants hung dangerously low on his hips. Shit, he was diverting your attention.

"Oliver," you sigh, rubbing your eyes to try and exorcise the images stealing your focus, "you've been doing that by yourself your entire adult life, you don't need me."

"That's not true, it goes way better when you do it for me," Oliver whined again, and even in his husky tone, you could hear it, the begging, so shameless.

At this moment he looked every bit like a dog, a ragged mutt pleading for attention at his owner's feet. Hell, he was even trying to shoot you the best puppy eyes he could muster, pout returning to those pretty lips. You'd say it was ridiculous, but maybe it was the smell of soap or maybe the warmth emanating from his skin, but something was making you want to give in.

"That's nonsense," you groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose as you tried to convince yourself to not let him sway you. "I'm not a barber, and you've been shaving your own damn self for years. I'm pretty sure you can keep your eternal stubble under control on your own."

"Well, I could," Oliver shrugged, remaining unfazed by the exasperation in your voice. "Though, this time I'm gonna have to shave it clean."

"What?" Suddenly, you were fully immersed in the topic, even though you felt like you'd fallen into a trap.

Oliver had to contain his smile when you suddenly went from nonchalant to interested. It was really cute. He knew you liked feeling the scruff around his face, which he always thought was absolutely endearing. Now, sadly, he'd have to part ways with it, albeit temporarily.

"You remember tomorrow's party? Well, the team's president is an old school kinda guy. He's gonna get pissed if he sees the team's captain shows up looking so unclean for an important event," he answers with a full body sigh, eyebrows arching high as he raises his shoulders.

"That's ridiculous," your words cut so dry that Oliver can't help but laugh at the barely contained disgust in your tone.

"Well, I think so too. But I like my position right now, if the old man wants me clean for the party, I can make the sacrifice," he answered with a wave of his hand, stepping closer to your chair before leaning in, using his hands to prop his body onto your armrests. "But it could be less painful if you helped me."

You sat in silence, staring him down for a long minute as he leaned in close, that charming smile never faltering. From this close, you could smell the conditioner on his hair and feel his breath on your skin. Shit, you could feel yourself falling for it. Rubbing a hand over your face, you slumped further down the chair, sighing as you went.

"Fine," you groaned, looking back up to his beaming face. "Go soak the soap and the brush, I'll be right there."

Closing the distance between you, Oliver met your lips with his in a short kiss before pulling back in a breath, his skin still damp and warm from the shower. "Already done that, I'll go get myself a chair."

You hummed as he got up, lifting your body heavily off of the chair after he'd disappeared into the hallway. You spoiled him too much, you were sure of it, but you guessed he had the same type of charm as a big dog who still believes they are lap sized. It was hard to say no to that.

Following the wet footsteps, you found yourself in your en suite bathroom, Oliver sitting on a high chair he'd taken from the kitchen counter. At least he'd left everything ready, so all you had left to do was commit the dismal crime of doing away with his stubble. A pity, you'd miss the feeling of it on your skin. For however many days the shave would last, that is.

Picking the plastic bowl of shaving soap, you started moving the barber brush in circular motions to begin lathering it up. Taking a step forward, you approached Oliver as your hands worked, shaking your head as he snaked an arm around your waist.

"You are spoiled," you mumbled, feeling him laugh as he looked at you both in the mirror, your gaze following his.

"Maybe," he hummed, "but I spoil you plenty too."

"Well, here we go I guess," you said with a chuckle, making him straighten to give you a better access to his face and neck.

When the soft brush touches his face Oliver hums, closing his eyes as you begin spreading the soap over his jaw. It felt nice, both the gentle smell of lemon grass and the feeling of having you taking care of him. Yeah, he was spoiled, he knew it, but could he really be blamed for liking being pampered?

Oliver was only human after all, and having to unwillingly part ways with his facial hair was not his favorite thing. So it only made sense that he'd try to squeeze whichever little joy he could from this situation. And having you do that for him was joy enough on his book. Between feeling the warmth coming from your body and the comfortable silence that had settled, he could almost forget he was being forced to do this.

Opening his eyes he found your face close to his, gaze set in concentration as you moved the brush around his neck, finishing lathering it up. It was beautiful, really, sometimes you'd focus on something so much you wouldn't even see the things around you. Cute, and he couldn't resist the urge to take advantage of that, lowering his lips to meet yours in a quick peck.

"Oliver," you exclaimed as he laughed, "you gotta cooperate, you bastard. Now I got soap on my face," you grunted, looking at the mirror and then back to him.

"Just a little bit," he chuckled, reaching out to clean your face with his hand as you sneered at him.

You shook your head and turned to put the brush back, watching from the mirror as he still chuckled at you. Pestering you when you were focused never seemed to stop amusing him. And to boot, you couldn't deny there was something infuriatingly endearing about it. Or maybe you were just blinded by the casual charm of his smile - again.

Picking up the safety razor, you turn back to him again. "Now, you better behave if you don't wanna have to clean your blood off of the white floor."

"So mean," Oliver pouts before smiling that heart shattering smile again. "Alright, I'm in your hands then."

You roll your eyes as he straightens up, hands gripping the sides of the chair. When the blade first meets his face you feel Oliver shiver at the cold touch of the metal, but as quick as it happens, it's gone. You move your wrist and the blade glides down his warm skin in short strokes, following the grain of the hair on his stubble. Oh, it's gonna be so sad to see it gone. Especially knowing how a good part of Oliver's appeal came from how he looked at least a little like a mess. You couldn't even recall the face of his club's president, but you now hated the old man.

There is ease in the silence that settles as you carefully work the sharp blade along his face and neck. Only the rough sound of metal scraping against the hair and skin fills the bathroom as an oddly well-behaved Oliver sits in stillness. It feels almost suspicious, even, but you guessed he had no interest in showing up to the party with a cut on his face. Not that you believed even that could do much harm to his good looks.

When that first pass is done you turn to the sink and wash the razor before picking up the brush start the cycle and lather his face again. Though, just as you turn back he catches you off guard, forward and capturing your lips in a quick kiss - but he almost topples his chair over in the process. Desperately you steady him up, pushing his large frame back by his shoulders.

For a moment there the scare takes the best of you, brows furrowing in a scowl, ready to chastise Oliver for the stupidy. But then he starts laughing, the warm and husky sound enveloping you as they echo off the walls, breaking your defenses. You laugh along, slapping his shoulder but leaning against him for a short moment. Sometimes he could be an idiot, but that too was part of the appeal.

Once you both recover you go back to your work, lathering his face, putting the brush back in place, picking up the razor, and bringing it to touch his face. This time you move it cross grain, once more enjoying the sound of the metal moving over his skin. It's all peaceful, for at least half of the process until Oliver grows bored, his large hand finding your bare leg, fingers traveling over the back of your thigh until they reach the hem of your shorts.

You grunt in warning and he only hums quietly in what sounded like a mocking acknowledgment. Oliver disregards your death glare completely, his palm touching your thigh, rough fingers massaging your skin as they move. Even then he doesn't stay put, hand traveling up and groping your ass, kneading the flesh under your shorts just as your reach his neck. For a moment you consider giving into the desire to leave just a little gash on his skin, but you manage to resist.

Just as you try to turn back again he he uses the hand on your ass to pull you closer in. You don't even have time to protest as his lips crash against yours - and you can already notice the strangeness of not feeling his stubble. Still, he doesn't give you much time to think on it, tongue slipping past your lips and exploring the wet insides of your mouth. He tastes like coffee, and you can't help but let the taste lure you in, the sensations enveloping you, warmth rising in your face until then it's gone.

His lips part from yours with a quick peck and you are already missing the kiss - what a bastard, teasing you like that. You huff and shake your head when Oliver winks at you, slapping your ass as you turn around and repeat your previous motions of washing the razor and grabbing the brush again.

You lather his face, then throw the brush in the sink before picking up the razor and letting it touch his skin for a final pass, this time against the grain. Oliver hums when you lean in and it sends shivers down your spine, his hand finding your leg again but this time he just let it dance over your thigh absentmindedly. You find comfort in the warmth of his palm and in the ritualistic nature of this whole thing - it's a soothing type of repetitive task.

This time the blade hugs close to his skin, and when you get to his neck you can feel his steady pulse. Sitting so still, so calm, the beating of his heart feels strangely slow, yet heavy and powerful. You know it's the telltale sign of that athletic resistance and ungodly endurance, but the slow rhythm never ceases to seem almost eerie.

When you finish you run a hand over his face, feeling the smooth, still damp skin. It's strange, but you take solace in knowing it's temporary. Soon enough it'll be gone, though not without leaving Oliver itchy for at least a day, and you always found it funny how bothered he was by that. He smiles at you and you can feel it go straight between your legs - fuck, you are sure he did that on purpose.

But you don't give the pleasure of attention, instead turning around to rest the razor on the stone sink. You hear Oliver yawn from behind you, and watch from the mirror as he stretches as you pick a towel from the rack. Turning back to him you pat his face dry, and as if he wasn't already being spoiled enough, you rub the aftershave lotion on his skin. When it's all done Oliver climbs down from the chair and pulls you in by the waist, placing a soft kiss on your lips before you both turn to the mirror.

"There you go," you say, resting your hip against the sink as Oliver leans in, "how you feeling?"

"Like I'm seven years younger," he responds, touching his face with his free hand. "Which is a nightmare, actually," he pouts.

"Oh, come on, it's only temporary. You gonna be back to having the stubble and looking great again in just a few days."

"Hey," he grunts, squinting his eyes at you, "what do you mean by that? You talk like I'm not handsome anymore," he almost growls in a joking threat, a smile playing at his lips as he cages you against the stone counter, hands on each side of your body. "What's up with that, huh?"

You chuckle as Oliver says the question low in your ear right before assaulting your face with soft kisses. You laugh, grabbing at his shoulders as he snakes a hand around your waist. He's rubbing his face against yours and you can't help but notice how odd it is not to feel the stubble you'd grown so used to.

"Oliver," you laugh, dual colored eyes looking up at you as he peppers kisses over your neck, "this is so strange, your face is so smooth."

"Ah, but you gonna have to deal with it," you laugh as he rubs his face against yours almost like a cat before taking his lips to yours and placing a quick peck. "You gotta make up to me for saying something so mean."

"I've just done your shaving for you, ain't that enough?"

"Nah, I can think of something better."

He pulls you in closer, rubbing his pelvis against yours, letting you feel the large bulge under the the fabric of his sweatpants. Of course, he was like that, it didn't surprise you at all. But you guessed you could spoil him just a little bit more, as a reward for behaving so well even under such difficult circumstances. Yeah, he deserved a bit more pampering, why not?

now for a word from our sponsors: @wishiknewwhatiwasdoingwithmylife

HQ BOYS MEETING A BEAUTIFUL FAN

⟶ ft. kuroo, suna, ushijima

♡ kuroo

"kuroo? kuroo testurou?"

kuroo whips around, ready to apologise to whoever that the nekoma volleyball team is currently rushing to catch their bus back to school, when he's suddenly hit with...

kuroo's jaw drops.

he doesn't even know how to describe what he's seeing. all he knows is that he's currently staring at the girl of his dreams.

"um, could i take a video with you?" you give him a tentative grin, before rocking back on your heels, adding, "and if it's okay, could you wish my friend to get well soon?"

kuroo immediately closes his mouth, aware that he looks completely stupid in front of the cutest girl he's ever laid eyes on. he gazes at you with his iconic half-lidded eyes, hoping he sounds more confident than the way his heart is clenching in his chest, "oh? a video? and what's your friend's name?"

"misaki! she's your biggest fan but she couldn't be here because she's sick today." kuroo nods empathetically at your explanation, internally swooning because you're going to such lengths for your sick friend? that is so cute.

"sure! a video's nothing! hang on - kenma, help us take a video!"

kenma turns around, about to protest how they have no more time to entertain fangirls when he sees kuroo slinging an arm around you. kuroo shoots kenma a pleading look and kenma finds himself sighing because, of course, kuroo is absolute putty for pretty girls.

when coach nekomata calls for kuroo and kenma, kuroo frowns as he removes his arm around your waist, before he gets an idea.

he leans in closer to you, pressing something into your hands, smirking, "return this to me in school."

before you can even open your mouth and protest, kuroo's gone.

you look down in your hands and see his nekoma jacket crumpling between your fingers as you giggle to yourself.

♡ suna

suna is normally cool as a cucumber, eyes glued to his phone nonchalantly whenever a group of fangirls approach his teammates and gush animatedly.

normally.

he thinks he's being slick when he sneaks a few glances your way, heart clenching in his chest as he sees you move closer - or rather sees your friends drag you towards...him?

suna quickly assesses his situation and scans the area around him - no, the miya twins were not around him. this could only mean one thing - you're headed straight in his direction.

before he has the time to really freak out about an angel of a girl approaching him, you're already getting pushed towards him, with your friends' soft snickers in the background. and you're beaming up at him softly.

he feels his heart in his throat when he hears you repeat, gesturing to your friend who's holding up a polaroid camera, "are you okay to take a photo with me?"

okay? fuck. he is more than okay.

suna blinks, regaining a little composure. straightening his jersey, suna nods at you silently and wraps an arm around your shoulder, hoping you don't hear the way his heart is hammering thunderously against his chest.

holy shit. how do you smell amazing too? what was that - vanilla or something floral?

as suna tries to figure out what exactly is the intoxicating scent wafting around him, the photo is over, a little too fast might he add. he feels you pulling away from him and his arm drops back to his sides.

he knows he sounds uncharacteristically simp-y and even cringes a little at himself, but he knows he will forever regret it if he didn't ask you.

"do you wanna have another photo? with the polaroid camera, i mean."

suna may or may not have left his number behind the second polaroid.

♡ ushijima

"hi!"

ushijima feels a gentle tap on his shoulder right after he hears you. he turns around slowly and -

there is no way you are real.

"hello." he greets, looking stoic in contrast to the way he's internally panicking.

ushijima feels his grip tighten on the volleyball he's holding, taking in the way your eyes shine under the harsh gym lights. he listens to you ramble something about being a fan of his and a reporter as his eyes continue to glaze over your angelic figure, only snapping out of it when he feels kageyama nudging his side.

"so ermmm, what do you do in your free time?" you repeat helpfully, prodding a pen against your notepad.

"uhm." ushijima feels his face heating up. "i take care of my plants."

you're immediately gasping, "no way! i'm a plant mom too!"

"oh, uhhh," ushijima swallows, growing impossibly redder at the revelation of your shared hobby, "what do you grow?"

"roses!"

of course. that suits you, he thinks, pretty flowers for a pretty girl.

before ushijima knows it, he's spluttering nervously, "there's...actually a nursery around here..."

you look up from your notepad, eyes crinkling excitedly as you listen to ushijima explain how to get there. but after a couple of failed descriptions, ushijima scratches his head, "i-if you're not too busy afterwards, i could take you there?"

your eyes widen at the insinuation, before you nod shyly and give ushijima a small smile, which he finds himself melting at.

did ushijima just score himself a date? maybe.

is he complaining? oh hell no.

🤍 reblogs are very appreciated!

when you call them "husband"

how the blue lock boyfriends react when you call them "husband".

pairings: itoshi sae, shidou ryusei, isagi yoichi x fem!reader (no descriptions tho, just the words "mrs." and "wifey") (separate) | warnings: established relationship, fluff, kissing, the boys are simps, shidou is a warning itself

notes: hi guys! another one of these scenarios since you guys seemed to like the other one so much <3 thank you for all your love and support! also it's my first time writing for shidou so i hope this isn't absolute garbage.

Itoshi Sae

one of your and sae’s favorite couple activities was driving around the city. you loved the feeling of madrid’s summer breeze kissing your face and messing up your hair, and sae… well, he would never admit that, but sae loved anything that made you happy, even if it meant driving with no clear destination in mind until his feet hurt. so it was no wonder you convinced him to do just that on that afternoon.

after half an hour of wandering around town on a porsche, you decided that some starbucks would do both of you well. your little pleading eyes quickly convinced sae to stop by one, letting you order since the intercom was on your side.

“welcome to starbucks, what can i get for you today?” the man’s voice came out of the intercom, the spanish accent still making it a bit difficult for sae to fully comprehend, despite living in madrid for years now. 

“hi! i’d like a caramel frappuccino and a chocolate muffin, please.”

“anything else?”

you turned to him, asking in a whisper, “what do you want, baby?”

“just an iced matcha tea latte.” he shrugged. you smiled, and sae had to fight the urge to smile too. it was maddening, really — how much of an effect you had on him with something as simple as a turn of lips.

he watched as you turned back to the intercom, “and my husband wants an iced matcha tea latte. that would be all, thank you.”

distracted, sae started to take his foot off the brake to go to the payment booth, but suddenly his body froze. he furrowed his eyebrows, confusion etched on his teal eyes.

wait. 

fucking wait. 

sae didn’t register what the guy on the intercom said next, much less what you answered. he didn’t even notice the line of cars behind him and the need to move forward. all that mattered was that one word that fell from your mouth seconds prior.

“what did you call me?” he asked, silently afraid that it was all a trick from his mind fed on his deepest wishes. 

it was only then you seemed to realize what you said. “o-oh, i… i’m sorry, it just— it just came out…” you squeaked, bashful. fuck, you were so pretty like that, with your cheeks rosy while averting his gaze. 

sae smirked, pinching your chin so that you would look at him. he kissed you with a sweetness that wasn’t usually present in his bitter mouth, and you melted at his gentleness. 

“don’t apologize,” he said as he broke the kiss. “i liked that, mrs. itoshi.”

it seemed like it was finally time for that velvet box on the bottom of his drawer.

Shidou Ryusei

peace. peace was all you wished for — at least a little bit. five minutes on the phone to schedule an appointment was not asking for much, was it?

apparently, for shidou, it was.

you were well aware your boyfriend was selfish, and that was an universal rule when it came to your attention. considering he spent a lot of time away for games overseas, you couldn’t blame him for wanting some time alone, since you wanted it too. 

however, you really needed to schedule your doctor’s appointment, and your whiny boyfriend was making this task extremely difficult. every time you started talking to the lady on the other side of the phone, ryusei would butt in with very unnecessary comments that made your eyes roll. you apologized profusely to the woman about a hundred times, and she assured you it was okay. she even said it was sweet. 

if you weren’t so annoyed, you would have thought it was sweet, too. ryusei was never one to shy away from expressing his love, even if it meant embarrassing you and himself in the process (although he was completely shameless, so it made no difference).

“will anyone pick you up after your exam, ma’m?”

you could faintly hear what the woman was saying, since shidou was babbling nonsense in your ear as if you weren’t on a phone call. it made you sigh, and you rubbed the bridge of your nose.

“yes, my husband will pick me up.”

and then, silence. 

it took you a minute to realize that the outside noise disappeared and ryusei had completely stopped talking. you blinked a couple times, confused, and turned your head to look at your boyfriend sitting on the couch. to your surprise, he was blushing and gaping like a fish, in what seemed to be utter disbelief.

you braced yourself for what was about to come. 

“HUSBAND?!”

ah, there it is. his scream pierced through the living room, and you were certain even the other side of the country heard it. 

“thank you for everything, ma’m. i should be going now,” you told the receptionist. she only giggled and wished you a good day. 

the second you put your phone down, ryusei’s arms were around your middle, lifting you up and twirling you around like some cliche romance movie. your prior annoyance melted away in a second, and you could only giggle like a schoolgirl in love. 

“awww, ya wanna be my wifey?” he cooed, putting you down without letting you go. his nose touched yours and you blushed with the intensity of his stare. 

though you wouldn’t back down. 

“of course i do, ryu.” you smiled sweetly. your boyfriend stared at you, shocked and bashful for the second time in the span of five minutes, and then groaned when broken from his stupor. 

what a little devil, he thought. 

and then he kissed you, intense and dominating like only ryusei knew how to be, prodding his tongue in your mouth when you gasped and savoring every corner of your mouth. it was one of those kisses that swept you off your feet and left you dizzy, and he could tell from the hazy look in your eyes when he finally backed away.

“fuck, i love you so much. you ‘gon be my wifey, baby, i promise ya.”

Isagi Yoichi

you were usually the one to accompany yoichi to parties — mostly galas thrown by sponsors who wanted to secure a deal with some sports hotshot —, so, for him, it was a breath of fresh air to be your plus one on the holiday party of the company you worked for. 

since the company in question was a corporation, it was no wonder the decoration was flawless, with lots of gold and red to represent the christmas that would soon arrive. the soundtrack was mainly composed of classical music, and he smiled watching you enjoying a vivaldi song. it reminded him of the early days of your relationship, where you teached him about your favorite classic musicians such as beethoven, mozart, ludovico einaudi and chopin.

your arms were linked as you wandered around the hall, and, non surprisingly, everyone seemed to want to talk to you. of course they would; you were the sweetest, kindest and smartest soul to walk on this earth. isagi couldn’t be more proud of all the recognition you were getting, because you deserved more than anyone he knew. 

“are you having fun, baby?” you suddenly asked. the striker finally noticed he had been staring at you for a while as you drank a glass of champagne. he blushed, but nodded. 

“how could i not? i’m with you.”

a giggle left your lips along with a fond roll of your eyes, and yoichi couldn’t help but think that, if he could listen to a single sound forever, he would choose your laugh in a heartbeat. 

“you’re so silly, yoichi,” you playfully chastised him, but stepped forward to give a kiss to his cheek. he smiled, circling your waist with one arm and pulling so that your bodies were glued.

“what can i say, you make me silly, sweetheart.”

“isn’t that what love is supposed to do?” a third voice suddenly spoke, slightly startling the both of you and breaking you from your little bubble. 

you put down your glass on a waiter’s tray, smiling at the man that arrived. “mr. tanaka! what a pleasure it is to see you here.”

“of course! i wouldn’t miss such a party!” he exclaimed, laughing a little loud for the etiquette of that kind of gala, but no one seemed to mind. 

“and who is this?” he asked, pointing to isagi. 

“this is my husband, isagi yoichi. he came today to support me.”

with such simple words, yoichi’s mind went silent. 

he could faintly discern the man saying something about being a soccer enthusiast and a bastard munchen’s fan — mostly from reading his lips, since his ears were buzzing —, but honestly, he couldn’t care less. isagi’s heart was beating so pathetically fast that if he weren’t an athlete, he was pretty sure he would faint right there. 

husband. you called him your husband. 

did that mean you wanted to marry him? he’s been wanting to propose for a while. you have been dating for five years, after all, and yoichi was sure there was no one else in this world he’d rather spend the rest of his life with. did you only say that because you already lived together? or did you actually want a wedding ceremony with all your friends and family, signing the paper that would bound you for good? until death do us part, he remembered. though yoichi would love you even after dying—

“dear?” you called him, worry in your tone. it’s only then he realized he got lost in his thoughts, and both you and mr. tanaka were staring at him.

“oh, sorry. it’s really nice to meet you, sir.” he shook the man’s hand, engaging in conversation.

while you watched them, you smiled coyly, hoping isagi took the hint.

© 2023 itoshiexx. do not plagarise, translate, or repost any of my work on here or other sites.

Michael Kaiser — Molasses

PAIRING: Michael Kaiser/Reader WORD COUNT: 2.5k TYPE: Humor, Established relationship, Idk if i'd call this fluff lol, bad communication gets resolved at the end WARNING: trigger warning for CRINGE

“Is it easy for you to keep up with him?”

Your friend is interrogating you about Kaiser again. After a while, the topic of your relationship lost novelty, making way for newer drama, but it’s difficult for them to disregard that you’re dating a football player. Like, a real one, not just some dude who goes to play every other Sunday with his buddies.

You swirl your straw around your drink, looking at it like there’s slop in the glass instead of what you ordered. You wouldn’t say you keep up with Kaiser, so you shrug. “Give him a ball to kick around and he’ll be content.”

They raise an eyebrow, picking up on your sulking. Not like you’re being subtle about it. “So, I take it you’re not super stoked about things right now?”

Well, that’s the thing. You have nothing to do with what makes him happy. You don’t even call him by his first name, which is odd for obvious reasons, but also because it gives off the impression you’re one of the lackeys on his team, even though you don’t play. Or worse, a stalker fan who follows him around a lot.

Of course, you know what he’s like. That he’s a jerk who isn’t occupied with much besides himself, whose personality is cold and distant, and despite being a bit of a romantic, you’d prefer to think you didn’t have any unrealistic expectations. Maybe you overestimated your ability to tolerate how unavailable he is. And still — still! — is it such a crime to expect your boyfriend to display some vulnerability after several months of dating?

He doesn’t show you much of himself besides his persona, but you find it unnecessary, this covering up and playing His Majesty and forcing distance between you two with his paper thin smiles and showy kisses after games. You’re not a journalist trying to write an exposé on him (‘Michael Kaiser Is a Big Bitch’). You just… You just like him is all, and have a desire for a more profound closeness.

Does he share the same sentiments of affection towards you? It’s kind of a ridiculous question to ask yourself, and he’s way too pompous to allow anyone he finds uninteresting in his presence, but are you on his mind as often as he is on yours? Does he wonder about you the same way? You don’t believe you’re even half as elusive as he is, so it doesn’t seem plausible.

On the other hand, are you too overbearing? Should you pull back and relax?

You’ve been meaning to be mature and speak up about your concerns, but have been procrastinating on the conversation. For now, you wallow in your doubts while your friend suggests you break up with him and points out how big his forehead is, and how dumping a star is a ‘once in a lifetime opportunity.’

___

Kaiser is… off balance.

Not really. He’s standing upright and his posture is perfect and he’s not dizzy, but right now, the world is wrong and he can only hope the way he is clawing at his phone doesn’t betray how upset he is.

“Ness,” he says in his ‘I am about to complain’ tone. It is also only slightly different from his usual voice.

“Yes?”

“Before I continue, I just want you to know that I’m being very brave and nonchalant about this.”

Ness smiles, the expression seeming guileless as usual. “Of course,” he says eventually.

Kaiser all but shoves the screen in his face, since putting all of your offenses into words is beyond him, though it soon occurs to him Ness can’t read from this proximity and ceases the assault he’s committing on his eyes. Ness scans over your sparse chat, looks up at Kaiser again, and raises his eyebrows.

“They can’t make it to practice?” He states it in the form of a question when it appears that Kaiser is unwilling to talk, even though he’s the one who started the conversation.

“Congratulations, you can read. How many times has this happened?”

“I don’t know,” Ness says, despite knowing this is the fifth since he counted every time you didn’t show up the last two weeks. “Are they not feeling well?”

You shot him down the last two times he asked you to go out on a date. And you haven’t called before bed in a while. And you didn’t even add a kissy emoji when you told him good luck (not like he cares about your stupid emojis, but you didn’t). And whenever you see him lately, you act closed off.

“No, they’re totally avoiding me,” he says, after going through a mental flashback of all of your betrayals as if he was in a war instead of on iMessage. “Do you think I’m ugly? Or maybe boring?”

“Never.”

“Then what should I do?”

Did he have a plan for if he were unattractive? Get plastic surgery just to keep dating you or something? “You should try asking.”

“Maybe our relationship is losing its spark,” Kaiser says, completely disregarding Ness’s input. Ness continues smiling. It is unnerving, but an idea comes to Kaiser’s mind, and he’s too busy marveling at his genius to notice. “It’s an easy fix. I just need to romance [Y/n] again.”

Ness is still smiling.

“Anyway,” Kaiser continues despite the lack of answer, “you know they love those comics or whatever. It can be like a challenge. Recreate the atmosphere, sweep them off their feet. I can make my sweetie’s dreams come true. Because I’m not replaceable, and only I can do that for them. Right?”

For a brief moment, Ness considers telling him this is not the way and that he’s jumping through so many hoops, he’s going to trip and fall, but decides against it. Maybe there’s a grain of truth to what he’s saying. He doubts anyone else would come to this conclusion, for one, let alone devise a plan around it. If irreplaceable is synonymous with unique by some stretch of the imagination, then sure.

“Of course,” he says again. His eyes are big and innocent. Kaiser gets the distinct impression that Ness is judging him right now.

___

It’s already dark outside and you’re still sitting at your desk, doing mundane things on your computer, once again distracted from an assignment you’ve been meaning to do for a while. Something smacks against the window, startling you, but when you pull the curtains, you don’t see anything near the sill. You assume you imagined the noise, but another pebble hits the window, and this time you witness it as it happens.

The thought of some asshole throwing rocks at your windows irritates you, so you stand up to investigate, pressing your forehead against the glass.

Kaiser waves at you from below, looking way too cheery. You don’t know what he’s doing here, but you turn to go and let him in through the intercom — did he ring? you don’t remember him doing so — until you notice him gesturing at you to open the windows. Confused, you comply, peeking your head out, the cold breeze blowing against your cheeks and invading your already poorly insulated apartment.

“You look lovely today,” he yells out. Not a strong start, but he can redeem himself. Maybe.

“Thanks? Do you wanna come in?”

“Yes.” You lean away from the window again, but he stops you with another bizarre request. “No, wait. Later.”

This perplexes you even more, but you humor him with a weary expression anyway, resting your face against your palm.

… You interrupt his unnecessarily loud reading of some obscure love poem with a flail of your hands and a, “Cut it out and just come up!”

God, you hope none of your neighbors heard. To spare you both of this embarrassment, you don’t give him a chance to continue and instead close the windows, hurrying to let him in and unlock your door.

What’s with him, anyway? You feel a pinprick of anxiety at what’s about to come after such a strange… greeting from him, but try your best to seem stoic while you wait for Kaiser to climb up the stairs.

When he comes into view, you offer him what you consider a cool nod (which you may or may not have practiced in the mirror), and he continues to stand there at the doorway as if waiting for something. You move aside to give him space. Kaiser blinks once, figures this isn’t going his way, then follows your lead.

“Please don’t make me ask ‘where’s my hug at?’” he says, taking off his jacket and hanging it on the coat rack. “That’s not like me at all.”

In your struggle to think of a neutral response, all you come up with is, “No one’s making you do anything,” which sounds more disagreeable than what you’re going for.

His lips settle into a thin line, the action calculating, as if he’s contemplating his next move. Both of you are being tactical. It’s weird considering this is supposed to be a sweet surprise visit from your boyfriend, not a battle of psychological warfare, but you don’t even know what’s going on anymore.

Then he takes a step closer until he’s in front of you, invading your personal space with his face leaning in so close to yours, resting his palm against the wall, almost pinning you to the wall but not quite. “Why not?”

“Do you need something? I kind of wasn’t expecting you, so,” you say irrelevantly. In your head, you’re still trying to make sense of this, not understanding where these corny gestures are coming from all of a sudden.

“No, I just wanted to see you. Is that a crime?” he says, backing away, folding his hands behind his back. There’s an artificial grin on his face. “Was this enjoyable for you?”

“Well, um, it was alright.”

“Did you like my recitation?”

“No…”

He read your stupid favorite series and the idiot love interest did both of those things. Does he have something that Kaiser doesn’t? And should he throw an irrational and jealous tantrum about it, shoujo style, or should he move onto the amnesia subplot?

This is awkward. You can’t think of an inoffensive topic to bring up. Perhaps deliberately withdrawing yourself from him has impaired your conversational skills? Either way, his unpredictable actions from earlier are throwing you off your game.

Kaiser follows you when you lead him to the couch, sitting in a manner you think is far too dignified considering he was serenading you from under your balcony not too long ago — prim and proper, with his ankle crossed over his knee and his hands intertwined together like he’s at a fancy meeting, offering opinions about a business deal.

You fumble for the remote with sweaty fingers, turning on the TV, hoping for a distraction. You can’t focus because you can feel Kaiser’s gaze on you, putting you on edge, burning into your side profile. He’s not even paying attention to whatever random show you started.

You turn towards him, conveying your incredulity with a raise of your eyebrows because you’re not even sure what you’re supposed to ask. ‘Why are you looking at me?’ doesn’t communicate what you want to say to the fullest extent.

“Oh, you caught me staring longingly at you. How embarrassing,” Kaiser says with the same sly smile, not sounding the slightest bit ashamed.

“Are you okay?”

“No. Have we met before?”

You scrunch your face in evident disbelief and think, OBVIOUSLY?

It makes Kaiser contemplate whether the amnesiac subplot is worth continuing.

“Seriously, you’re acting weird,” you say after gathering your wits.

“‘Weird,’” he repeats in fake amusement and looks away, switching from… whatever he’s been doing to a strange defensiveness, then adjusts the collar of his shirt. “I think the definition of that word is subjective.”

“I mean, sure.”

“And anyway, you were the one who was acting strange first.”

“Me?”

“Yes. Instead of acting like I don’t exist anymore, you should’ve just said you want to separate.”

God, Kaiser is so dramatic. Saying you were ‘acting like he doesn’t exist’ just because your world doesn’t revolve around him. You’re struggling to keep up with these mood swings. “But I don’t want to break up?”

“Oh,” he says before his lips turn up again. “That’s good,” he settles on, figuring it makes him come across as calm and collected enough.

“Honestly, I don’t know what you were doing, but… if you were worried about something, maybe you should’ve just told me?”

“You’re so cute when you’re being hypocritical.”

You cross your arms and frown, offended.

“I mean,” Kaiser elaborates, “you haven’t told me why you’re avoiding me either. And what was I doing? I wanted to find a new way to woo you again, but since you didn’t notice, it obviously didn’t work. Let’s just pretend it never happened.”

“Well, it’s hard to put it into words,” you say, picking at a hangnail on your finger to distract yourself. “I don’t want you to woo me or anything. A lot of the things you do are performative, just for show. Even all this wasn’t sincere… So I don’t wanna be in a situation where I’m opening up to you when you’re not doing the same.”

He seems taken aback by this. “Do you doubt my feelings for you?”

“Not exactly. More like the depth of them, if that makes sense?”

“When I thought I was losing you, I started acting irrational,” he says in a disdainful tone, vaguely gesturing at nothing in particular to imply this entire ordeal. “I hate to admit it, but it scared me how much it was affecting me.” Kaiser appears to regret admitting this almost immediately, though, because he tries to divert your attention by asking, “Is this the appealing kind of vulnerable? Or the pathetic one? I could repeat myself while flipping my hair from my best angle if it’d help.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you worry,” you say. “I should’ve just been upfront instead of playing games. You were right, that’s pretty hypocritical of me.”

“Yes, you should be sorry, making me act like a clown.” You narrow your eyes at him in annoyance. “But I guess I was confusing you, so I’ll forgive you this time.”

“Hold on,” you say, when the tropes finally click into your head (though you have to admit, as much as you love the romance genre, these things do come across as really bizarre in real life). “I don’t know if you were reading with your ass or what, but all these things are supposed to happen before the characters get together. It was way too late for any of this!”

“Haha. Is that so?” Kaiser asks, pretending he’s not dying of even more mortification on the inside. Then he pulls out his phone. “That reminds me, I organized a duel for your hand against Ness at the city center for later. I guess I should cancel it.”

“What-”

“Don’t worry, we choreographed it to be quick and painless, with a decisive win in my favor,” he says, as if any of what he mentioned is what you were questioning.

“Choreographed- Never mind, actually, I don’t wanna know. Why would Ness even agree?”

“Because I asked him to do it…?”