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int-writersmind · 5 months

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I Hate Christmas, Peter Parker {Part 2}

Peter Parker x f!Reader

It’s simple: You don’t see what the big fuss is all about surrounding Christmas, but Peter Parker thinks that this is unacceptable and puts you through step two of a multiple step list to make you fall in love with the holiday.

{Read Part 1}

Warnings: Fluff

Word Count: 1.2k

Author's Note: Not well edited will fix soon; Another Christmas song suggestion, a personal fave

That stupid little elf that greeted you as you left your apartment every morning was a reminder that Peter’s little list was far from being over. That stupid little elf, with it’s stupid little plastic face, creepy smile and knowing eyes.

“It’s an elf on the shelf, kids love them!” Peter said when he placed it on the way out of your apartment after the two of you spent way too many hours decorating your place. You hated to admit it, but you actually had fun. But the elf on the shelf was not the cherry on top that Peter was so keen on it being.

“You’re telling me that children actually enjoy the idea of some vile creature constantly watching them?” you responded.

Anyway, you were dreading whatever was next, it was the second week of December and there wasn’t any movement from Peter’s end. Granted he was pretty busy with his second life, dealing with a group of baddies that decided that this time of year was the perfect time for a group project of evil–Peter’s words, not yours.

You were admittedly gutted, Christmas was far from being your favorite holiday, but at least it gave Peter an excuse to annoy you more than often, and more Peter was always better. But you knew and understood everything that came with Peter’s other job.

It was late now, soft snow was falling from the night sky. Anywhere else that would be magically and beautiful, the very definition of a White Christmas. But all you could imagine was the aftermath that came when it snowed in the city. Train delays, black ice, yellow snow, and that god awful gray snow that somehow, not matter how careful you were, your foot always found itself in. It wasn’t Christmas fault of course, annoying snow could come at any time over the winter (and sometimes Spring) season, but the damn thing was always linked to the holiday.

You were loss in your work, trying to catch up on some documents before the holidays caused everyone to not check their emails until the new year. You were snuggled up in some pajamas pants that once had a matching top and a raglan t-shirt from the men’s section. As you are sip from your hot chocolate, you don’t even notice the subtle tapping coming from your window. Alone on your couch, you just chuck up the sound to some apartment ambience. It isn’t until the tapping become more preseinset that you notice it.

“Oh gosh, sorry,” You say to Peter as you open the window, reaching for a hoodie as the brisk winter air rushes in. Peter just sits on your windowsill, pulling his Spider-Man mask off. Your little apartment was tucked in a strange corner of the city, one where most of your windows were facing a wall, some Peter never really feared that someone was watching the two of you.

“Good thing I wasn’t bleeding out.” Peter just swings his legs in, not fully coming into the apartment.

“Not this time at least” You respond, “So what’s up? Can you stay?” You gesture to the Spider-Man costume.

“Oh yeah, the city’s quiet tonight,” He glimpses at the city behind him before returning this attention back to you. “I was actually here because of…the list”

You roll your eyes. “Really, and what could possibly be on the list that involves Spider-Man?”

“The Tree.”

You try to stifle a groan, he was talking about the Rockefeller Christmas Tree, the one Christmas tree that all sane native born New Yorkers knew to avoid like the plague around this time. Yes, yes, it was very pretty with its gigantic size, thousands of lights, and of course that enormous Swarovski star on the top. The tree was nice to view on TV during the tree lighting ceremony and through other people’s social media, but actually being there, in the thick of it, was terrible. The crowds, the cold, the totally unoriginal photo ideas. “Peter–”

“Now listen here Debbie Downer,” You make a face at Peter, who puts his hands up in surrender. “If we go now I bet you it will be a fun time.”

The two of you just stare at one another, “Fine, I’ll get my coat.”

About fifteen minutes later, Peter has the two of you swinging through the snow and cold, both whipping past your face and ears, causing a slight stinging sensation. The damn coat, hat and scarf did nothing to cut down on the weather’s feeling.

Since the two of you started dating and some time after Peter told you the truth of him being Spider-Man, you had your fair share of swinging through the city moments. It didn’t mean that you were used to the feeling of constantly falling through the sky to only be pulled forward. Oh c’mon this is slow Peter once said.

Thankfully the journey wasn’t as long as Peter quickly lands the two of you on a rooftop across the street from the Tree. “See, not too bad?” Peter says.

“Sure, sure, sure, sure.” You answer back, sitting at the edge of the building, feet dangling over the side, it takes Peter a few moments before he sits next to you.

Now without a mask and spotting a brown bag, Peter sits next to you, nudging his shoulder into yours, you can’t help but smile as you pull out a Christmas tree shaped donut out the bag.

As you bite into the somehow still warm pastry, glancing at the tree and all it sparking glory before looking at Peter. “Two Christmas trees on the list Parker?”

“Well, this wasn’t originally the plan ok,” Peter scoffs as he bites into a Santa shaped donut. “It was going to be a whole day, with ice skating, tree viewing–”

“I’m just joking,”You lightly punch him on the arm, taking another bite from the donut. “I actually quite like this, just the two of us, here, looking at the tree. You get to like, actually enjoy looking at it without getting in any one’s way. “

“That’s true, just the two of us up here…how many people can say they saw the tree like this?”

“Well, probably everyone that lives in this building?” You both laugh as the two of you finish the donuts. You lean over and kiss Peter, savoring the sweetness from his lips. You can’t help but lick your lips staring at him as you do so. “Just so you know, I really appreciate this.”

“I know,” Peter’s eyes glance downwards towards your lips. “Does this mean you're starting to love Christmas now?”

“Hell no, but I can think of a few ideas that might change my mind.” You lean in, hands resting on his chest, pecking at his lips again.

“Not yet,” He moves just slightly away from you, “But I promise the next one will be worth it.”

Before the two of you kiss again, the lights on the tree go off, you stare a little loss at one another. “Peter?”

“No Spidey-Sense, nothing’s wrong.”

You pull out your phone and check the time—midnight “Guess it's much later than I thought it was.”

“God, same, I’m so tired.” Peter lets his head fall on your chest, you hold him in your arms.

“Come back to my place Spider-boy,” You gently run your fingers through his hair. “You’re freezing and I have a hot chocolate with your name on it. “

“Sounds good to me,” Peter looks up. “But only if we can watch a Christmas movie.”

“Of course.” You say with just a hint sarcasm

Sorry for the late upload and the short length just not in the right head space right now, but I'll live. try to get something up on Wed but no promises in case I forget. But stay with me pls!

Anyway, to lighten things up, what Christmas movie do you think Peter would pick?

#peter parker fluff #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker #peter parker x you #christmas fic #christmas fanfic #spider man fluff #spider-man fluff #spider-man fic #spiderman fic #spider man fic #spiderman fluff #christmas spider-man

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azurestar · 7 months

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With the Eras Tour movie coming out this weekend, I thought I'd post some of my Batman/Taylor Swift thoughts.

My Tears Ricochet reminds me so strongly of Bruce and Dick's relationship I'm not 100% convinced it wasn't actually written about them. I could probably do a full lyrical analysis to this song, but for now I'll point to a few selected quotes.

Even on my worst day, did I deserve, babe All the hell you gave me? 'Cause I loved you, I swear I loved you 'Til my dying day

You know I didn’t want to have to haunt you But what a ghostly scene You wear the same jewels that I gave you As you bury me

In Swift's discography, the "jewels" represent the albums she lost the rights to, which her former label continues to profit off of. In this context, the jewel is Robin's identity— which Bruce gives Jason weeks after firing Dick.

I didn't have it in myself to go with grace 'Cause when I'd fight, you used to tell me I was brave. And if I'm dead to you, why are you at the wake? Cursing my name, wishing I stayed ... And you're tossing out blame, drunk on this pain Crossing out the good years

When Bruce fires Dick, he tells him he wants Robin to stay dead. When Dick confronts him about taking on a new Robin, he at first refuses to acknowledge “the years we spent together as Batman and Robin”— before breaking down and angrily admitting that he missed him.

Mastermind reminds me of Barbara —specifically, her conversation with Helena in Birds of Prey #84, when she apologizes for psychologically manipulating her. Read the bridge of Mastermind…

No one wanted to play with me as a little kid So I've been scheming like a criminal ever since To make them love me and make it seem effortless This is the first time I've felt the need to confess And I swear I'm only cryptic and Machiavellian 'cause I care.

…and then the following panels.

Right Where You Left Me is more meta than the others on this list, but it reminds me of Tim— still Robin, still seventeen after all these years.

Everybody moved on I stayed there Dust collected on my pinned-up hair They expected me to find somewhere Some perspective, but I sat and stared Right where you left me … Did you ever hear about the girl who got frozen? Time went on for everybody else, she won't know it She's still 23 inside her fantasy How it was supposed to be…

In a hypothetical edit, I’d change the self-deprecating next line to “Did you hear about the girl who lives in delusion? / Heroes die every day / You don’t have to lose it." You know:

You’re Losing Me reminds me of Stephanie’s time as Robin + War Games.

I gave you all my best me's, my endless empathy And all I did was bleed as I tried to be the bravest soldier Fighting in only your army Frontlines, don't you ignore me I'm the best thing at this party (You're losin' me)

Despite Batman's discouragement, Stephanie gave being Robin everything she had, throwing herself in the line of fire to protect him. Instead of rewarding her efforts, Batman pushes her away, limits her information access, and eventually fires her.

And I wouldn't marry me either A pathological people pleaser Who only wanted you to see her

As War Games progresses, Stephanie's overwhelmed with guilt. All she ever wanted was Batman's support.

Finally, the heart failure theme. Swift incorporates a heartbeat into the track, and “you’re losing me” references a coding hospital patient. The final lyrics:

Stop, you're losin' me Stop, you're losin' me Stop, you're losin' me I can't find a pulse My heart won't start anymore

#dc comics #dick grayson #bruce wayne #stephanie brown #barbara gordon #tim drake #taylor swift

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sylphidine · 5 months

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[Fic Excerpt] Chaos Of The Bells

I come bearing Yuletide gifts, gentle readers!

Here's a Christmas-themed snippet from my human!AU Swatchton fic CALL SIGNS. Two scenes from Spamton's and Swatch's first Christmas - spent apart, but very much in love across the miles.

Enjoy!

++++++++++++++

A FEW DAYS BEFORE CHRISTMAS...

“Finally found a TikTok we can duet with, man! You can send it to Spamton!”

Swatch looked up from the pile of Christmas cards they were writing and addressing while seated at the Dyers’ dining room table. Catto waved his phone under their nose.

“I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”

“C’mon, it’ll be fun! And you need to give your legs a better workout than you’ve been getting. Shake those tail feathers and all.”

They raised an eyebrow as they took the phone being handed to them and tapped the ‘play’ button. The dancers on screen were obviously having a great time and the editing on the video loop was flawless, but Swatch’s ears were insulted by the screeching ululations of an overhyped singer in the background. They paused it, slid the phone back to Catechu. “No. Absolutely not.”

“But whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy?” Catto whined piteously.

“Because Ms. Carey’s lyrical sense is atrocious, not to mention ungrammatical and illogical. And my boyfriend is not a ‘thing’ I need, let alone ‘just one thing’, thank you very much.”

“Huffy Swatchy.” T.M. came out of the kitchen just then and wrapped her arms around Swatch from behind.

“Well, it’s true. Spamton wouldn’t like being objectified, even in the name of Yuletide cheer.”

Their cousin crowed, “But you admit he’s your boyfriend!”

“Of course he’s my boyfriend. It’s hardly a secret.” Swatch looked up at T.M. and grinned conspiratorially. “But in the name of not dying of embarrassment and saddling the world with my pissed-off ghost, I’m willing to compromise on your TikTok idea if… IF! ... we change the song we’re dueting. Like…” they pulled out their own phone and pulled up a different Basement Gang video than the one Catto had touted. “Like this one.”

T.M. grinned back, her new snakebite piercings making her look more impish than ever. “You can borrow Endora the Third. She already knows the part. And if you’ll all wear the onesies. I will too.”

“Someday I’m going to figure out how you two always get the better of me,” Catto complained.

When Spamton got a chance to watch the TikTok on the morning of Christmas Eve, he laughed so hard that tears were streaming down his cheeks. If he had seen this back in September, he would never have believed that this genuinely silly and energetic person in footie pajamas, dancing to “Feliz Navidad ” with a black cat in their arms while their cousins and their best friend danced around them, was the same person as the stiff-mannered and judgemental person he’d had as a roommate. He loved seeing this side of Swatch, and he was truly grateful for having the twins and T.M. in his life as well.

A FEW DAYS LATER...

“I don’t want to keep repeating ‘I miss you’, but I do,” Spamton wrote in the Burning Questions Project journal. “Not even four months ago, I didn’t even know you existed, and now you are the most important person in my life.”

He knew it wasn’t a question, but he didn’t care about semantics at the moment.

“So the biggest question, out of all the burning questions, is why do I love you? And why the hell am I trying to put that into words, anyway?

“Well, front and center, I think the word ‘steadfast’ was invented for you. Oh, I know that most people think of that Hans Christian Andersen story when that word’s mentioned, but seriously, you are the epitome of that soldier with his unwavering tin heart and his absolute faith in his ballerina. You give all your mind, all your support, all of YOU in everything you do, even when it’s something negative. Like when you had first made up your mind about me being a stuck-up brat. Yeah, it wasn’t pleasant being despised, but you were firm in your convictions.

“So I learned to love you for your steadfastness. It made a real difference compared to all the other people in my life who only wanted to know what I could do for them.

“You’re good to your friends, good to your family, and you don’t put up with bullshit. Those are all lovable qualities in my eyes.”

Sitting back in the armchair in the study, he tapped his pen against his knee. Spamton was at a loss as to how to phrase that he thought Swatch was gorgeous without sounding shallow, as if he only cared about Swatch’s appearance.

But it was a plain fact that Swatch was easy on the eyes, and an absolute delight to hold, and to kiss, and to… and to do things to, things that made Swatch make utterly delicious noises…

Even though he was all alone in the room, Spamton got up quickly and hid his notebook under a cushion, feeling himself blushing to the tips of his ears.

That line of thinking was better to pursue when there wasn’t any chance of a sibling popping in to tease him.

Full chapters can be found here...

#swatchton #fic: call signs #make the yuletide gay #human!au #swatch deltarune #spamton deltarune #tasque manager #swatchlings

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morocosmos · 2 years

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On first and fierce affirming sight, part 1/2

Edit: Mild end of Endwalker spoilers re: a specific zone.

Read part 2/2 here

Guydelot takes a moment, allowing his eyes to adjust to the low light now that he's out of the city. It's well past dark in the Black Shroud, the hours for which the woods were named: there's nothing to see but inky black for malms around, punctuated by pockets of light from the tall lanterns that keep travelers to the safety of well-trodden paths.

The bard keeps a healthy level of fear on him, as any sensible person living in the Twelveswood should, but beyond that, he treads through the forest path with all the familiarity of one who had grown up beneath its boughs. The Shroud, in some ways, is more home to him than the city itself – it's given him space for his fledgling tunes to grow and flourish into the powerful songs they are now. More importantly, it's given him the freedom to wander out and clear his head when he needs to escape Gridania, with all of its busyness and rigid sensibilities.

How ironic then that he feels tethered here still, bound by both duty and volition as he waits, and waits, for Sanson to return home.

Guydelot turns left at the fork, wending his way through the woods as he circles around Bentbranch, not particularly caring to take an exact route so long as he passes through the waymarks. To both their surprise, the Serpent Captain had been asked to return to Garlemald...without Guydelot. Supposedly the Ilsabard Contingent were on the cusp of deciding what needed to be done with the recently-untempered, now-displaced Garlean citizens, and they'd requested for representatives from Eorzea's Grand Companies to lend their aid as such.

“How long will you be gone?” Guydelot had asked quietly, as he'd watched Sanson stride about their shared home, already packing for the journey. The air had been tense; they'd not argued per say, but Guydelot had questioned the necessity of dragging Sanson all the way back to Garlemald for what seemed like mere talk. There was more to it, there had to be...Sanson had not denied the possibility, but neither had he been inclined to question the decision, despite the scant details of his brief, and it'd frustrated Guydelot to no end.

“Two weeks, at the very least. Pending however long it takes for a viable solution to be reached, I imagine.” Sanson had looked up then, looked at him with a softer gaze. “I'll return as soon as I've done all that's asked of me.”

He'd heard the rest of Sanson's feelings in that last sentence before realising the remainder of his, and the tension between them had melted into the floorboards.

I'll miss you. Neither of them had said it; not when Sanson had finished packing, nor when they'd gone to bed that night, not wishing to speak such feelings into existence when Sanson's two feet yet remained within the house. Through some unspoken consensus, they'd not said it when Sanson had left for Camp Broken Glass either. It isn't like them to spell such things out.

But sometimes Guydelot wishes they did nonetheless. Two weeks had become two and a half, and today marks the twenty-first day...he thought it'd be easier for him. That somehow the fact that it was usually he who was away from home, whether on the occasional mission with the Gods' Quiver or on his pursuits for bardic inspiration beyond the Twelveswood would make the burden lighter.

He doesn't have Moro'a for company; the Warrior of Light had, of course, been persuaded to join the Ilsabard Contingent as well. But at least he has old Jehantel. And the warm, if fleeting company of those he meets at the taverns. The bard unit, for what it's worth...it doesn't feel right to call them friends, what with being their superior and all (never mind what he and Sanson have going on), but Guydelot has to admit that the time they've spent training in lieu of their captain's absence has counted for something. Kept the discomforting, disquieting space in his chest from growing beyond his ability to put it aside.

You've never been apart for this long before, that’s all.

Oh but you have, his inner voice reasons. Ah. The circumstances are wholly different now, Guydelot counters. Sanson can take care of himself, even if he can still be reckless on occasion...he's got Moro'a, for Twelve's sakes, and Ser Lucia, and likely several of Eorzea's leaders nearby. Hells, he'll be fine.

Not for the first time, the words of a ballad slip into his mind, wishing to leave his lips. He doesn't hum it out loud, wary of attracting curious creatures of the night, but he does so in his head, letting the notes dance silently along the air beneath his fingertips. I would shun the light, share in evening's cool and quiet; who would trade that hum of night, for sunlight, sunlight, sunlight...

Guydelot's back at the Blue Badger Gate just as the verse ends. Dawn, and with it sunlight, will not come for another half day. When it does, it'll be another dawn for busying himself with duty; another dawn for waiting. But until then...

Nothing else left to do but return home.

#soooo there's this incredibly tender bard boys sketch and i was staring at it and then i HAD to write something for it #i'll link the sketch in the 2nd part bc it's only really relevant to the conclusion #but if you know you know lmao #kae scribbles #guydelot thildonnet #sanson smyth #this one can have the character tags #one more tiny note: a week in eorzea is eight days

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elektra-world · 2 years

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OT6 Part 1/2

Summary: OT6 are reunited for a special project for each other and their fans. This part is mostly a lot of introspection and observations as Sora came to piece with her new life path.

Timeframe: Within the year that they were inactive after switching companies while the next part is closer to the girls redebut as Elektra in April, 2022.

Mentions Jae from ravens @ravebys 😘💕

Things were never going to be the same now for the former leader. Her hiatus came suddenly to fans and her members alike, leaving a sort of emptiness that still lingered within each girl.

Had it been a bit bold and selfish to get pregnant? Sora had finally admitted to herself that yes, it had been. The timing was awful, too, considering how their former company had been experiencing nonstop turbulence and having effects on everyone involved. She should have been readily available to support her members.

All they had were each other, after all.

But with the past few months of being a homebody and making sure to take care of herself for the sake of her and the twins, she had spent a considerable amount of time alone while Jae had been out on various schedules with his group or spending late nights in his recording studio. She never blamed him, though. He needed his space to work productively and she respected that. He also had a tour to prepare for. Despite what some Antis of hers liked to say, she never had the intention of stifling his creativity or taking him away from his members or fans. She loved him more than anything in the world and would always be his number one fan.

Admittedly, she was also a bit fearful of the public finding out about the pregnancy. Typically, it was the older idols who had been in the industry longer than her who had pregnancy scandals. And typically they were not connected to other idols but rather regular people they were seeing.

Still, she had become increasingly lonesome spending so much time at their apartment with just the kitties. Her members had been busy working out legalities with Starpunch while adjusting to their new company and redebut. Her family was in Japan living their busy lives.

So for months, all Sora seemed to have was herself. She appreciated the brief moments Jae would spend with her in the morning before leaving and just before going to bed. Or the cute pictures and texts he'd send during dance practice or creativity meetings. He did his best to make sure she was doing okay and knew he loved her despite being so busy. He'd leave her little gifts and notes reminding her how much she meant to him and how ecstatic he was to become a father. Those things meant a lot to her.

But to ultimately pass the time, she found herself writing music. A lot. Often times, it was very sad pieces. Then they grew to bittersweet and nostalgic ones. And eventually, they were far more courageous and angsty tunes. She drew a lot of her inspiration from the years of abuse Starpunch had put her and the other girls, artists, and trainees through. It brought out a different side to her that was almost the opposite of the shy, hesitant dancer that first came to the company only expecting to be an assistant choreographer.

She had become so much more than that, though, and would be forever thankful for everything her members and fans had given her to help her grow as a person.

As she shut her notebook and sighed, she grabbed her phone and brought up the old DIVIN3 group chat sending one simple message:

Let’s get together. I have a song for us.

[To be continued...]

She hit send, smiling to herself before getting up to make a cup of tea.

A:N - Semi edited so don’t choke me if there are mistakes.

#⚡ - elektra - feel the current ⋆·˚ ༘ *#⚡ - elektra - sns post #aes!ocnet #deluxeocnet #mochiocnet #kpop au #kpop ff #oc kpop group #kpop oc #kpop headcannons #kpop imagines #kpop drabbles #fictional idol community #fake kpop group

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jackrrabbit · 4 years

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cuffing season /// Ushijima x f!Reader (18+)

Summary: [Shiratorizawa fanweek day 5—Firsts] You convince your boyfriend to try something new in the bedroom, but as it turns out, old habits die hard.

A/N: Heard it was Shiratorizawa week 👀 technically I did originally post this on day 5, but I had to repost bc of tag issues, whoops :P Let’s pray it works this time!! edit: apparently it’s still not listed in the tags :<

The song that I mention is Bruno Major’s Old Fashioned (although it doesn’t fit the tone of this fic in the least).

Tags/warnings: mild bondage, size kink, rough sex!!!, marking (bruises/hickeys/etc.), power play/power exchange, reader tries & fails to dom Mr. Ushijima 😳, all characters are adults

Look, Ushijima’s a great boyfriend. Perfect, almost. Sure, he may not be the most expressive guy, but you’ve been dating him long enough that you’re able to pick up on the little gestures that tell you that he cares about you—the way he presses his face into your hair when you hug him after you’ve been apart for a while; his hands stroking circles into your skin when you fall asleep in bed next to him; all of it. He’s everything you could possibly look for in a man, except for one not-so-little issue:

The sex.

Because Ushijima, your sweet, wonderful boyfriend, who kisses you so gently it’s like he thinks you’ll fall apart if he’s not infinitely careful with you, is for some reason incapable of exercising the same degree of restraint (or any restraint at all) when you’re in bed together. When it comes to sex, your boyfriend is a fucking animal. And you’re not really sure how much more you can handle.

Maybe your concerns would seem petty from an outsider’s perspective. It’s not like Ushijima doesn’t take ‘no’ for an answer, and it’s not like you don’t want to have sex. You’re attracted to him, of course you are! Almost 76 inches and 190 pounds of pure muscle, a body that looks like Michelangelo could have carved it from marble, and that beautifully solemn expression that had you salivating over him from the stands before you even knew his name? You want to have sex with him, you’re just fairly certain you can’t, not when it always ends up with you completely and utterly wrecked, so spent you don’t even have the strength to lift your hips off the mattress so he can wipe his cum off your thighs.

Look, anyone in your position would feel the same way. It’s awful and you’ll never admit it to him, but you almost broke up with him after the first time you two fucked. You knew going in that it wouldn’t be easy—the man radiates big dick energy and boy did he deliver—but it was just too much.

That first time had started off so innocuously, with you inviting him to your place for a nightcap after your sixth date. You’d set candles and put on your romantic sex playlist for a nice backdrop to let him hold you in his lap and make out—how the hell had you gone from that to having him rut you into the mattress, your belly pressed into the sheets and ass arched up so he could pound into you so forcefully that your rickety bed smacked into the wall hard enough to rattle the furniture with every movement, and you couldn’t even hear it over the sound of your own moaning? You hadn’t changed the playlist, and it felt downright obscene to listen to Bruno Major croon about love and courtship while Ushijima fucked into you like he was trying to carve the shape of his cock into your pussy.

You’d had to call in sick the next day because you could barely walk. The bruises from where he held your hips had taken weeks to fade, and by that time he’d already given you new ones. To his credit, Ushijima felt bad when he saw the evidence of how rough he’d been and he promised to take it easy on you next time…but after a few more rounds of mind-numbingly savage sex you learned that the man apparently doesn’t know what ‘take it easy’ means.

To be fair, at least some of it is your fault. You really shouldn’t have offered to go on the pill as a three-month anniversary present to him. At least before, he had to give you a break while he changed condoms after he came; now he has no reason to hesitate, instead going for round two (and sometimes round three) without pulling out. You never thought you’d see superhuman stamina as a bad thing, but…

“You don’t get it! It’s like getting fucked by a stallion. I need to plan to have three days to recover whenever I take him home with me,” you whined to your friends over cocktails when they told you you shouldn’t complain about a good thing—after all, Ushijima is just as committed to your pleasure as he is to his own, and there’s never been an occasion where he didn’t get you off before fucking you himself (probably at least a little because there’s no way in hell you’d be relaxed enough to take him otherwise).

“Can’t you just tell him to go slower?” one of your friends asked. “If he doesn’t listen to you, then that’s fucked up and you need to dump him.”

“It’s not that he doesn’t listen. If I tell him to stop, he stops,” you sighed, stirring your drink with the straw and watching the decorative sprig of mint fall under the surface to be overtaken by a chip of ice. “It’s like he can’t go slower. He’s not adjustable—it’s either crazy brutal or nothing, and then neither of us get what we want. Like a vibrator you can’t turn off the highest level. I don’t even think he realizes in the moment how intense it is for me.”

“Aren’t you ever on top? You can set the pace.”

“I’ve tried, but Ushi just—“ you made a gripping motion with your hands and mimicked raising something up and setting it down vigorously— “like, bounces me.”

One of them raised an eyebrow and then her eyes widened. She turned to your other friend and the two of them whispered to each other for a bit, then shifted back to you. “Tie him up,” she said with the air of an elder imparting sage knowledge, and your other friend nodded.

“Oh, come on.” You rolled your eyes.

“I’m serious. Guys usually love it when girls are in control, you just need to take the initiative. Get him tied down and then you can show him exactly how you like it. Let him feel like he’s at your mercy for once.”

The idea had seemed unthinkable at the time, but you hadn’t been able to forget it—which is why after weeks of contemplation, hours of research, and a single extremely awkward trip to a sex shop, you’re now crouching over Ushijima’s naked chest, wrapping a leather cuff around one of his wrists.

“Are you sure that this is something you want to do?” Ushijima asks in that weighty baritone that makes you shiver with need. He doesn’t pull away, but he eyes your actions warily as you thread the chain of the cuffs around a rung in the center of your headboard and reach over to do the other side.

“…Yes,” you tell him, a little less firmly than you would have liked, and you lick your lips to try to make up for how suddenly dry your mouth is. “Anyway, isn’t that my line? We don’t have to do the cuffs if you don’t want to. I won’t force you.”

“It’s alright. You and I both know you couldn’t force me, (Y/N).” Dark eyes pin you down and it’s incredibly unfair how much power he has over you even when he’s the one chained to the bed.

Ushijima’s right, obviously—if he didn’t want to be exactly where he is right now, he wouldn’t be. You’re sure as hell not strong enough to force him to do anything he doesn’t want to, but he didn’t have to say it like that.

“Okay then…good,” you reply, adjusting the straps of the cuffs to accommodate for how stupidly thick his wrists are. When you’re satisfied that they won’t chafe but he can’t get out of them without your help, you sit back next to his chest and admire your handiwork. Ushijima lays on his back, naked, relaxed, even with his arms stretched up to your headboard and cuffed there. He looks good, mouthwateringly good, and you’re ready to get your hands on him when you remember there’s something you need to get straight first. “Wait, before we—before I do anything, remember— what do you say if you want me to stop?”

“…Vanilla,” Ushijima says, reciting the safeword you decided on when you were hammering out details, although the look in his half-lidded eyes is telling you very clearly that he has no intention of needing to use it.

Privately you agree, but everything you’ve read on the kink blogs you’ve been trolling for research tells you that a responsible adult doesn’t put cuffs on their partner without deciding on a safeword first, and you’re determined to do this by the book. “Good boy,” you say, and the diminutive feels awkward in your mouth until you see Ushijima’s reaction—the flash in his eyes, a minuscule hitch in his breathing next to you, and the scrape of metal against wood as he gives a light pull at the cuffs.

With everything safe and accounted for, you give a final tug to the chain to ensure it’s secure, then inch back and swing one leg over the broad expanse of his chest so you’re straddling his abdomen (and he’s so damn big that there’s a twinge of soreness in your thighs just from sitting on top of him). Fuck, he looks good like this, all spread out and pinned underneath you, so masculine and bulky that you’re feeling your pussy get wet just from watching him watching you.

It’s not often you get to appreciate him like this—usually you’re too focused on not losing your mind from how deeply he’s fucking you—so you savor it, massaging his shoulders and sliding your fingers down his sides, tracing the smooth skin with a feather-light touch and then dipping to kiss under his jaw. Feeling more than a little devious, you let your teeth graze over the thin skin at the base of his neck and with your chest pressed into his, it’s not hard to feel his sharp intake of breath.

“The marks...my teammates will notice.”

“Maybe I should stop, then,” you murmur against his skin, lifting up just enough to brush over his nipples. He stiffens, and once again you hear him tugging at the cuffs.

“…Don’t. I want them to see,” Ushijima says, and once you have his permission you don’t waste any time in latching your mouth to his skin and sucking. It’s been ages since you’ve given anyone a hickey. Usually you’re the one marked up like a teenager after Ushijima has his way with you, so this is a nice change of pace, especially when you can feel him flexing underneath you.

Well, kissing is nice…but you’re getting impatient and you know he is too. Once you’re satisfied that your hickeys are going to show up nice and bright red around his neck like a collar, you sit back, walking your hands back on his chest, stroking over his abdomen and giving a little roll of your ass on top of him. Ushijima’s hips twitch—unconsciously, you wonder?—and he glares at you in a way that tells you in no uncertain terms to hurry up and let him fuck you.

And damn it, something about that look has you feeling weak. Needy. Obedient. But this time you’re supposed to be in charge, so you smirk and lift your hips, pulling your body back so his cock is nestled between your legs, not quite touching your pussy. He’s already hard—no surprises there, considering how intently he’s watching you as you mess with him—but you only take a second to stroke his cock up and down before shifting up so he can see you slick your fingers up in your own pussy.

“(Y/N)…” Ushijima’s voice is low, annoyed, and he looks hungry. But you’re so amazed at how wet you are under your own fingers that you don’t bother to pay attention to him shifting his position under you to try to get stimulation. Your juices are literally slicking up your own thighs, just from chaining up your boyfriend and teasing him a little? You should have done this a long time ago.

You push two fingers into your pussy and pump them a few times, making sure to angle your hips so Ushijima can see them go in and out. The stretch is almost uncomfortable for a second and you wince a little before schooling your expression, knowing you’re about to have something a lot bigger than two fingers stretching you open. Ushijima catches it though, and he frowns, trying to sit up before remembering the cuffs that are holding him back. “Let me—let me do it for you—“

“No, stay down,” you say quickly, using your other hand to push him back into the mattress while you continue to touch yourself. Ushijima lets you (and there’s no doubt in your mind that he is letting you), but his eyes narrow as he zeroes in on the way your fingers are glistening with your own pussy juices.

God, you’re—you’re supposed to be in control, aren’t you? So then you shouldn’t be feeling like this, eyes drifting closed as you fuck yourself on your fingers, letting your lower knuckles rub against your clit while you try to curl them to rub against your g-spot. Ushijima’s been spoiling you…you can’t remember the last time you’ve had to do this yourself, and as you feel the tension building up slowly you catch yourself wishing it were him fingering you instead.

His fingers are just so thick. And long, and so rough. You bite your lip thinking about the way he does it when he preps you to take his cock, mashing his palm into your clit, petting along inside you and scissoring his fingers and… “Mmh,” you hum, holding back a real moan for Ushijima’s sake.

There’s another click of the chain sliding over the headboard wood and it reminds you that he’s right there, you could just uncuff him and he could touch you and fill you up with those thick fingers, make you cum, make you cry. But the urge to seek your own pleasure is outweighed by the image he’s making as he looks at you, his expression almost angry in its intensity now that he’s watching you do this to yourself and he has no way to get his hands on you.

“Ahh—“ you whine, letting a real whimper out at the thought of what you’re doing to him. “Ushi, Ushi, do you wanna touch? Wanna touch me?”

His head ducks into a hasty nod and his jaw clenches at the strain of having to ask for what he wants instead of just taking it like usual.

The longer you touch yourself, the closer you’re getting…but you don’t want to cum, not just yet. You draw your fingers out of your dripping cunt and open them up in a V, showing off the juices that connect them, the evidence of how wet you are for him. “Mmm, I don’t think so. I think there’s something else I want in me instead.”

And then you’re reaching to the side for the lube, squeezing a healthy dollop into your palm and then wrapping your hand around Ushiijma’s cock. And—fuck, he’s big. Sure, you’ve had sex with him plenty, but no matter how often you take him, you never stop feeling absolutely torn up after. A tingle of trepidation races up your spine at the thought of riding him like this—can you even put it in by yourself?

Even just looking at it is intimidating. He’s painfully hard, cock flushed red and bobbing up against his lower stomach every time you let it go, and, Jesus, how is it even possible that this thing would fit inside you? When you wrap your hand around him your fingers don’t touch; he must be thicker around than your own wrist.

Halfway. That’ll going to be your goal tonight, to take him halfway. And even that…is going to be a stretch.

The anxiety must show on your face because once again you’ve got Ushijima straining at the cuffs. “(Y/N)—“ he spits as you stroke him up, nudging your palm against the tip. “(Y/N), you need to finish first. Let me make you cum.”

“No, this time I want to—I’m gonna cum on your cock,” you say, adjusting your position so you’re kneeling above him, the head of his cock sliding between your lips. “Gonna cum on your big cock, Ushi, okay?”

His cock jumps in your hand at the provocation. He’s glaring at you, but he’s also leaking precum, the sticky fluid mixing with the lubricant. You give Ushijima a moment to say the safeword if he really doesn’t want you to, and when he stays quiet you raise yourself up a little more and line the head of his cock up with your weeping slit. You hold your pussy lips open with your fingers, easing your thighs down and pressing the head into you and—

“Oh—oh—oh, fuck, oh fuck, Ushi—“ you stutter out helplessly.

It’s been almost two weeks since he last fucked you. One week, six days and about three hours, and at the moment this measure of time seems unreasonably important because it’s been almost two weeks since you last let Ushijima split you in half with his ridiculously huge cock.

You’re not ready, should’ve prepped more, should’ve let him make you cum like he said—fuck, it feels like you’re losing your virginity—and the mixture of dismay and relief that spills over you when the thick swell of his head pushes past that tight ring of muscle is almost nauseating.

The tip? Seriously, just the fucking tip, and you’re already delirious, shaking, your thighs quivering on either side of his. It’s taking all of your strength to keep from going slack—but you know if you do, his whole cock is going to slide up into you and even thinking about that has your cunt clenching and unclenching around what you’re able to fit inside.

“Do you need help?” Despite the strain in Ushijima’s voice at being teased like this, there’s an undercurrent of amusement. He clearly doesn’t have faith in your ability to take him deeper by yourself.

It’s this—this quiet arrogance, this belief that he knows what’s best for you and he’s the only one who can give it to you—that gives you the guts to convince yourself to lower yourself down onto his his cock until you’re literally gasping for air. It fucking hurts, but you’re not going to give him the satisfaction of hearing you say it; instead, you brace your hands against the stiff muscle of his chest and try to focus on the way his cockhead is pressing into your g-spot.

Halfway…he’s gotta be at least halfway in, right? You sneak a glance up at him and bite back a curse at the look on his face, serious as ever, so focused on the place where your pussy is reluctantly eating up his cock that you feel your insides tense up around him again.

You don’t even know how it’s possible for you to get tighter around him but somehow you must be able to, because you hear Ushijima grunt underneath you, and his muscles contract under your palms as he tries again to sit up. When he can’t, he hisses in frustration. “Move…now. Or I won’t be able to control myself.”

Funny, aren’t you supposed to be the one controlling him? But it sure as hell doesn’t feel that way when you’re barely able to stay upright just from trying to ride his cock. You nod desperately, chin jutting up and down like a bobblehead, and lift your hips up off his cock until just the tip is left inside. When you push yourself back down you can’t help whimpering at the feeling of him stretching you, sliding up into you, that stiff, wet cockhead dragging over your g-spot.

By now the pain has faded into an uncomfortable stretch, like leaning too heavily into a foreign pose in yoga, enough that you’re able to feel the arousal building in the pit of your belly and hold onto it as you rock your hips up and down him. The pace is slow—almost too slow; you marvel at yourself for wanting it faster—and there’s a fair amount of Ushijima’s cock that you’re not able to take, but this is really all you can handle.

“Mmm, Ushi, fuck, you’re so big, so big and hard inside me, feels so good on your cock—“ you moan, knowing you sound less like the dominant partner in this position and more like you’re teasing him, pushing his limits.

Ushijima’s breathing is heavy. Labored. He’s trying to hold himself back. “(Y/N), deeper—take me deeper, now.”

Part of your brain vaguely recognizes that he isn’t supposed to be giving the orders here, but you’re too drunk on the feeling of fucking yourself on his cock to complain, so you lower your hips and try, but it feels like you’re just too weak to do it yourself. “Ushi please, it’s too much, too big, I can’t, please—“

And your pleading must sound like an invitation, because his eyes flash and you feel him shifting the position of his legs behind you—and then he bucks his hips up and his cock sinks into your cunt, pushing up into your gooey insides until the head is pressing into the tight opening of your cervix.

“Ahn—?” you squeal, startled. What? He—what? Fuck, it’s deep, it’s so deep, you can’t hold yourself up so you flop downward, holding onto his shoulders for dear life, “ohhh Ushi pleasepleaseplease” and you barely hear yourself over the lubed-up slap of his pelvis against your skin.

Fuck, it feels like he’s knocking the breath out of you. Feels like you can’t fucking breathe like his cock isn’t just pushing against your stomach but your lungs too, can’t breathe so you bear down on his shoulders try to hold yourself up try to let yourself adjust but—

Ushijima’s in control now.

Not that he ever wasn’t, you’d think if you were capable of thinking except you’re not because as you try to situate yourself make yourself relax around that monster cock filling you up, he’s not giving you a moment to catch your breath, instead thrusting up into you at his usual breakneck pace. Apparently he doesn’t need to use his hands to make you bounce—you’re not even moving yourself now, just trying to hold still as his hips slam his cock inside you again and again and again, and again, rubbing up against that sweet spot in your pussy so quickly that you think you might go crazy from it.

“Nngh, so tight,” he growls, and you can tell from the way the words are choked out that he’s gritting his teeth. You almost want to roll your eyes—of course you’re tight, anyone would feel tight around him—but it feels like if you do your eyes might roll back in your head so you don’t.

Jesus fuck, you can’t even understand how long it’s been but you do know that it’s absurd for you to want to cum already, only the thick mass of his cock pushing into you is somehow hitting all the right buttons, just like it always does. Even if it’s rough you want more. By now you’re trying to meet his thrusts, rolling your hips in time with him fucking you open, doing your best to participate but really it’s all you can do to even stay still with how roughly he’s fucking you. “Ushi, fuck, so deep, wanna cum I wanna cum please let me cum—“

“Touch yourself,” he commands breathlessly because he’s still tied to the headboard and he can’t do it, and you barely have the strength to pick one of your hands up off of where you’re scratching into his shoulder and pull it down to rub at your clit.

It’s not enough and you whimper desperately, you don’t want your own fingers, you want Ushijima’s, you want him to touch you. You’re probably saying it out loud by now, begging him to put his hands on you—his eyes widen and then the sound of the metal cuff chain grating over wood reaches you—you can see the skin of his wrists get lighter from lack of blood flow, he’s pulling at the cuffs, pulling too hard, he’s going to hurt himself, you have to stop him—and then you hear a snap.

Aw, shit. The bed.

The thought comes in a singular moment of clarity as you watch the rung Ushijima’s chained to separate itself from the rest of the headboard, splintering, the nail that held it in place looking pathetically flimsy next to the veins bulging in his arms as he slides the chain away from it. He flexes his hands, forming fists and then unclenching them to restore the interrupted blood flow, and then you’ve only got a second to prepare yourself before he’s upright, dragging your hips up to meet his.

“Ushi, Ushi, Ushi, I want, please, I want you,” you beg, but you didn’t really have to because you’re pretty sure there’s no force on Earth that could stop him from holding you up so he can fuck down into you with a ferocity that could be mistaken for anger if you weren’t certain it was really lust.

The entire bed is creaking and rocking against the force of his movement, but you don’t really have the headspace to worry about more property damage considering he’s got you supporting yourself on the mattress on your back and shoulders, your spine curled up so he can kneel and still have your hips aligned with his, your legs dangling bonelessly on either side of him.

Fuck. Holy fuck. You open your mouth but words don’t come out, only a choked whimper, but if you could speak you’d be saying yesyesyesyesyes, touch me.

Despite your inability to speak, Ushijima picks up on what you need and then along with his cock carving its way in and out of you you’re getting the feeling of his fingers padding over your clit. Rough and callused, not gentle, nothing like the way you touched yourself earlier, but you’re starting to realize you don’t mind the aggression. In fact, it’s good, it’s so good, so good you’re gonna cum.

You’re gonna cum.

A long, drawn-out whine is spilling out of your lips before you can stop it; you wrap your hand over your own mouth out of shame or maybe courtesy to your neighbors (although by now they’ve probably invested in earplugs after listening to you squeal like a pig on Ushijima’s cock dozens of times in the past). Still, as your climax rocks through you shove your thumb between your teeth to bite down on it, but the sharp pain is nothing compared to the pleasure.

“Ushiiiii—“ you sob around your own fingers. Your spine arches—or rather, you try to arch your back but you can’t, not with Ushijima’s full body weight pressing into you and keeping you pinned to the mattress.

It hurts, it feels good, you’re seeing stars, you’re hearing Ushijima snarl as your pussy tightens up and convulses on his cock. His one-handed grip on your ass gets painfully tight as he abandons whatever pretense of restraint he had left and pumps his cock into you so hard and fast you’re pretty sure the headboard isn’t going to be the only thing broken, but you don’t fucking care because you’re cumming, you’re cumming, you’re cumming so hard you think you black out for a second, holy fuck.

It’s only when you hear Ushijima’s panting breath and feel him pulling your hand away from your mouth that you regain your grip on reality. “You’re bleeding,” he says, holding your hand up and inspecting the shallow indentations your teeth made on your thumb.

“…You broke my bed,” you reply tiredly once you’ve gotten in a lungful of air, what feels like the first full breath you’ve been able to take since he put his cock inside you.

“I’m sorry,” Ushijima tells you, although he doesn’t look particularly sorry.

You roll your eyes. “Did you cum?”

“Yes. When you did.” Without him holding you up there’s nothing to prevent you from sliding down off his softening (but still unfairly impressive) cock. You’re certainly not strong enough to keep yourself in position.

Even if he hadn’t confirmed it, you’d still be able to feel the familiar heat of his semen plastering your insides, and once your still-sensitive pussy is exposed to the cool air your inner muscles squeeze involuntarily but hard enough to force some of his cum out—you sense it, hot and thick, dripping out of your pussy to smear against your thighs. “Can we take a bath?” you ask, knowing you’ll barely be able to walk over to the bathroom, much less stand under the shower unassisted.

Ushijima nods and moves off the bed. “I can carry you,” he adds when you try to stand up and your knees almost give out before you flop back onto the mattress.

At this angle, with you sitting and him standing in front, it’s difficult not to see that despite cumming literally less than two minutes ago, he’s already getting stiff again. Jesus, is he even human? After how hard you just came, the thought of letting him fuck you again is giving you something stronger than butterflies, but you look up at him and offer anyway. “Wait, do you…um, want to go for another round?”

Ushijima’s gaze meets yours and then travels over your body underneath him. You must look like a mess—sweaty, hair all fucked up and tangled, body still shaking with the aftershocks of your climax and barely able to sit comfortably on your aching pussy—and you guess he sees how jittery (nervous?) you feel because for the first time since your relationship started, he shakes his head to turn down an offer of sex. “No, I’ll take care of it. Let’s clean up first.”

“Okay,” you sigh, releasing a breath you didn’t realize you were holding and raising your arms to let him pick you up.

“(Y/N).”

When Ushijima doesn’t move to carry you, you frown. “Hm?”

“The cuffs.”

Oh, right. The black leather is wrapped around both of his wrists, chain still intact. Apparently these cuffs are stronger than your headboard. Good quality. Too bad they’re going in the trash. You make quick work of the release and then undo the straps carefully, massaging over the light pink marks on your boyfriend’s wrists once they’re free.

“Sorry, did it hurt you? I didn’t mean to—I mean, I just wanted…” You trail off, feeling infinitely embarrassed that despite all your claims of dominating him, he still ended up with the upper hand, cuffs or no cuffs. And you liked submitting to him. There’s no denying that.

“It didn’t. And…I enjoyed having you on top,” Ushijima tells you, lifting you effortlessly into a princess-carry now that his arms are free.

“Yeah right. We’re never using those again,” you scoff, tucking your head into his chest as he carries you to the bathroom. “My boss is going to get mad that I keep taking sick days every time I have sex with you. I’m just going to throw the cuffs out.”

From your position, so close to him, you can barely see the upward quirk of his mouth that would be as good as laughter for anyone else. “Don’t get rid of them. I think…next time, I would like to have you wearing them, (Y/N).”

Well, fuck.

#ushijima x reader #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #hq x reader #ShiratorizawaFanweek2020 #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#hq #hq!!#ushijima #ushijima wakatoshi #ushiwaka #ushiwaka x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #hq imagines #haikyuu!! imagines

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itadorisgf · 3 years

Text

— the lyre’s tune

⤷ 🦋 nonnie suggested: sending love songs to ur s/o

edit: it’s more like jjk characters as love songs im sorry 😭😭

note: im a sucker for music shit <33 send me song recs and we will fall in love.

ft. fushiguro megumi, gojo satoru, itadori yuuji, kugisaki nobara, nanami kento, sukuna ryomen.

warning: light angst, but overall it’s very fluffy

⤷ main page

— fushiguro megumi.

now playing: when i look into your eyes (feat. lanie) by khaki dreams

to put it bluntly, fushiguro sucks at emotions.

he’s often been told that he’s too cold or unfeeling.

it’s through no fault of his own that he doesn’t exactly have the greatest grasp on emotions and feelings.

but it is the reason why he has such a difficult time discerning what he feels for you.

your relationship is platonic, but is fushiguro content with that or does he desire more?

fushiguro isn’t exactly against the idea of love, but it’s not like he’s actively searching it out.

due to the low number of first years, you’re a tight knit group. you’re all close to one another, however your personality meshes best with nobara and itadori.

as fushiguro attempts to figure out his feelings, he unconsciously pulls away from you. he doesn’t hangout with you as often and is much more quiet than usual, which is saying something.

nobara tells you that fushiguro’s just been fushiguro when you mention how he seems more closed off than he normally is, but you’re concerned for the divide he’s creating between the two of you.

meanwhile fushiguro is undergoing his own emotional turmoil.

fushiguro pulls away so much from you that you end up confronting him. you express your worries for him and question if everything’s all right with him.

and when fushiguro lifts his head to meet your gaze, he knows where his feelings lie.

in that moment, fushiguro realizes that he wants to be more than a friend to you.

— gojo satoru.

now playing: 505 by arctic monkeys

gojo satoru is like a thorn in your side that you just can’t seem to get rid of no matter how hard you try.

you’ve known each other for so long that your relationship with the man is certainly complicated to say the least.

you’d tentatively say that the two of you are currently friends, but it’s difficult to be friends with someone who was once your everything.

you had been friends with benefits for awhile before you two became lovers. dating gojo was a natural progression of your relationship and it came so easy to the two of you. it was nice. for awhile at least. before it all came crashing down.

you became fed up with how he treated your feelings so lightly as if they didn’t matter. so you broke up with him.

the break up took a toll on you, but it hurt more seeing how gojo appeared to be so unaffected by it.

but enough time has passed since then that you can say your current relationship isn’t as bad as you would’ve thought considering you’re coworkers with your ex-boyfriend.

gojo is still as flirty and charming as ever.

you truly believe that it’s this man’s mission in life to bother you.

it’s not that you don’t still have feelings for gojo, but you don’t want to get hurt like you did last time.

your feelings aren’t something to be played with and you refuse to let gojo in again just for your relationship to wind up like it did before.

gojo knows that his actions affect you even if you pretend they don’t. he notices the way you stumble over your words before quickly composing yourself when he accidentally brushes his hands against your lower back. the way your eyes widen before you glare at him when he makes a sexual innuendo in front of your shared students.

but what gojo didn’t know is how bad the breakup affected you.

gojo never stopped loving you, but you were the one to break up with him. if you didn’t want to be with him that was fine, he would just act like he was completely okay with that. gojo was able to keep up the appearance that he was okay after you left, but he missed you a lot.

and when you break down in tears in front of gojo asking why he’s messing with your head when you know he doesn’t love you anymore, gojo’s heart drops.

a serious expression crosses his face when he gently places his hands on your cheeks to tilt your head up to meet his eyes. with his thumbs he wipes away your tears and asks, “who said i didn’t love you anymore?”

— itadori yuuji.

now playing: whoa by snoh aalegra

itadori’s crush on you is so apparent to everyone.

but it’s not like he’s attempting to hide it at all.

the way he trails after you like a puppy confirms that.

he tries to spend as much time with you as he can and hangs off of your every word.

most of the time he’s not actually listening to you though. he really does try to follow what you’re saying, but then he gets distracted by how nice you look in the sunlight and how you look really good in your uniform that he’s startled when you jog him out of his daydreaming.

he flushes and apologizes for getting distracted and asks if you could repeat what you said. you don’t get mad when that happens and just laugh it off, and itadori is so captivated by the sound of your laughter that you ask if something’s on your face with how hard he’s looking at you.

so it’s no secret that itadori harbors a crush on you. everyone is aware of that fact except one person: you.

it’s not you haven’t been told that before. nobara along with a couple of your upperclassmen have confirmed that itadori does indeed have a crush on you, but you just don’t believe it.

how could itadori have a crush on someone like you? you’re sure he doesn’t view you as anything more than a friend.

nobara bluntly tells you that itadori literally never shuts up about you, but you’re still adamant that he only thinks of you as a friend.

it’s not that you don’t like itadori, it’s quite the opposite.

you like him a lot. how could you not? he’s cute and kind and does dumb stuff to make you laugh.

it’s a bit silly, but being by itadori’s side fills you with confidence. you feel like you could exorcise any curse if itadori’s with you. maybe it’s because itadori has so much confidence in you that you can’t help but feel the same.

but you’re convinced that itadori doesn’t like you in that way and itadori can’t seem to tell you that he does.

your friends are sick of your pining dumbasses.

but before they can formulate a plan to get the two of you together, you and itadori figure it out for yourselves.

you’re hanging out like usual, relaxing outdoors after a long day of sparring. you’re staring up at the clouds floating through the sky while itadori lies beside you. he’s admiring the slope of your nose and the curve of your lips when you turn your head to meet his gaze.

your eyes widen when you realize that itadori’s already looking at you, but you don’t say anything. you part your lips open to say something when the silence lingers for a bit too long, but itadori beats you to it.

“can i kiss you right now?”

itadori looks shocked that he said that. you blink once, trying to comprehend what itadori just asked. you blink again before nodding. your voice cracks a little when you respond with “y-yeah.”

— kugisaki nobara.

now playing: cloud nine by beach bunny

nobara is confident in herself. she prides herself on being independent and never searching for validation in the form of other people.

she knows her own worth and won’t let anyone else diminish it or tell her otherwise.

but she must admit that there is no feeling comparable to when she’s with you.

others have complained to her before that she’s loud and self-absorbed. nobara’s never really cared for what others thought of her.

but she’s happy that you don’t think of her that way.

nobara doesn’t have to worry about how she comes across because you love her for who she is.

you love how blunt she can be. you love how she always sticks up for herself and how unafraid she is from backing down.

you love how she won’t let others talk bad about you either. you insist that she doesn’t have to and that you can handle it yourself, but nobara just tells you that “nobody gets to talk shit about my s/o.”

your favorite thing ever is when you manage to catch nobara off-guard with a compliment. normally when you compliment her, she replies “i know,” with a grin on her face, which makes you fall even further for her.

but sometimes when you’re feeling particularly soft, you tell her something along the lines of, “you’re so beautiful and i’m really lucky to call you mine.” nobara goes red and will only manage a shaky “s-shut up,” in response as she tries to hide her flush.

to say the least, you are completely and utterly whipped for nobara. not that you’re complaining about it.

it’s safe to say that you adore her.

nobara loves you just as much in return.

if her confidence ever falters, all it takes is you gently squeezing her hand, reminding her that you’re there beside her, for any doubt to fade away.

because when you’re around, nobara knows she can face any challenge that comes her way. she’s not alone and she has you to support her through anything.

— nanami kento.

now playing: care by sonder

nanami and you both have busy lives.

as sorcerers, you don’t exactly have a lot of down time. you make it work, though.

lately it seems you’ve been running yourself ragged.

you’ve been assigned more missions as of late and nanami’s barely seen you in the past week.

the only prolonged period of time he’s spent with you is when you’re both asleep and even then, you slip into bed late into the evening.

besides that it’s a rushed kiss here and a quick i love you there.

he’s concerned for your well-being. it’s not healthy to be working so often especially in your line of work, which requires you to be in top mental and physical condition.

so when you come home from your latest mission, nanami’s there to greet you at the door.

you’re surprised to see him waiting up for you considering it’s late at night.

he’s dressed in more relaxed clothing, and laying on the couch, thumbing through a book.

when he hears the front door creak open and sees you stumble inside, nanami places the book down and looks at you.

“i ran a bath for you already. after you get dressed, you can eat the dinner i prepared.”

you give him a tired, but grateful grin in return and cheekily ask him to join you in the bath.

nanami denies your request, but he does sit on the edge of the bathtub to keep you company. he’ll wash your hair and your back for you, and the tension in your shoulders melts away when nanami drags his hand in between them.

he hands you a towel to dry off along with one of his t-shirts and a pair of sleep shorts for you to change into.

after you change into your clothes for the night, you drag yourself into the kitchen and come up behind nanami, wrapping your arms around his middle and nuzzling your face into the space in between his shoulders.

“thank you, kento,” you sleepily tell him, pressing a kiss to his back.

nanami turns around in your hold to press a kiss to your forehead, “always, my love.”

— sukuna ryomen.

now playing: hold me down by daniel caesar

sukuna loathes how he feels for you.

it’s pathetic that the king of curses harbors any sort of fondness for a mortal.

you drive him mad. he cannot fathom what it is that draws him to you.

but sukuna finds it oh so amusing that you like him.

you’re painfully obvious about your little puppy dog crush on him.

he loves popping up while itadori is talking to you and will insert himself into the conversation.

he aims to fluster you and revels in the way your words will falter and you’ll start tripping up on what you were saying.

although he likes teasing you, sukuna enjoys it even more when you respond with a quip of your own.

it makes you even more interesting.

you’re intriguing to sukuna.

you don’t approach him with the same fear that other sorcerers do. instead, you approach him with almost a child-like curiosity. you often ask him questions that others never have before like you’re actually interested in what he has to say. you’re a rather strange human, he thinks.

once sukuna accepts that his soft spot for you isn’t going away at all, rather it seems to be getting larger, he gets so possessive. you’re his little human now.

sukuna loves hearing you say that you love him. will make you repeat yourself over and over again. it’s like a boost to his ego.

you tease that he’s your favorite curse, but sukuna’s response is something like “obviously i am.”

you’re the only thing that sukuna has any sort of attachment to so he’s very protective over you.

will not hesitate to strike anyone down that even contemplates harming you because you're his.

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #fushiguro x reader #gojo x reader #nanami x reader #nobara x reader #sukuna x reader #celeste.adores #adoring.fushiguro #adoring.gojo #adoring.nanami #adoring.nobara #adoring.sukuna #celeste.scribs

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sunnysidefangirl · 3 years

Text

Awaiting (Jungkook x reader)

Pairing: Jungkook x reader

Warning: talks of anxiety, not 100% edited sorry, will probably go back to edit more later

Summary: reader goes to a concert and is transferred on stage when they see their soulmate.

A/N: This idea was inspired by @alpacaparkaseok ! Their soulmate stories are really good and since I have never seen that certain trope be done before I thought I should credit where I got the idea from! Go read their fics, they are seriously amazing! Anyways please don't plagiarize, I spent a lot of time on it so don't be rude! Copyright ©! Also imagine Covid is not a thing! Please like, comment, and repost if you liked it! I hope you enjoy! 💜

*****

You have to admit, you didn't believe it when your friend told you they had front row tickets to a BTS concert. Concert tickets are hard to get, let alone front row seats.

"Thank you!" Your friend said with a smug smile. She happily took the $30 dollars from your bet. You saying they were fake and her insisting they were real.

"Yeah, whatever." You rolled your eyes as the line moved closer to the entrance. The line was long but you and your friend were lucky enough to get soundcheck.

"I'm going to be Jungkook's soulmate, I can feel it." You heard a confident voice say. You wanted to roll your eyes at the adult that bragged her idea to the armys around.

When it comes to the artist you were going to see the only thing fans know is Jin has already found his soulmate but nobody knows their name, let alone what they look like. Other than that people assume the other members just haven't met theirs yet.

It was odd to hear those genuine thoughts. They travel the world and have yet to meet their soulmates from a concert.

Sure, it was a nice thought especially since Jungkook was your bias, but realistically he's probably not your soulmate.

You've imagined more than once what it would be like to meet your soulmate. You secretly hoped it would be somewhere in nature. A park, or on a hike, or over looking a lake. It just seemed like it would be a great experience, to meet the one made for you in beautiful scenery.

However you were probably a little a head of yourself, more than likely you would meet them through work or walking down the street or something minimal like how most people do.

In the blink of an eye, you were in the stadium. You and your friend got settled in your ideal spots close to the stage. Then the two of you fell into an easy conversation.

"So when you go to visit your soon to be mother in law you won't look like a totally idiot for not dressing like the cookie monster-"

"Uh uh oh uh uh ooohh."

Your conversation interrupted by the opening of the first dance number of the night.

"Oh my gosh, it's them! If I faint will you catch me?!" Your best friend asked, dramatically clutching her chest. She stood on her toes to get a better look, as if the front row just wasn't enough.

"No promises!" You shouted with a wide smile at the stadium got louder.

•••••••••••••

The concert was going great! You were having so much fun dancing and singing your heart out with the random people you had met beside you. That song ended and another one began.

When you looked up Jungkook was making his way down the stage with Jimin just behind him. His microphone was raised as he sang the bridge of the song. He turned to your side and looked at the audience. When your eyes locked everything seemed to zoom in on him alone. You got tunnel vision and he was your only focus, just as you were his. He couldn't pull his eyes away from you if he tried.

A sensation of gravity shutting off came next. You felt weightless and could no longer feel the floor below your feet. Then you felt as if you were being pulled, more like yanked, to your new destination. You choose to close your eyes as the motion got to be too much.

Jungkook didn't understand what was going on but he got the feeling that the world around him was spinning. The last thing he wanted to do was alarm the fans but he couldn't help but close his eyes as he stumbled over his own feet.

"Jungkook?" Jimin questioned placing a hand on his left shoulder. Did he suddenly get sick or something?

The feeling went away as quickly as it came, leaving a dull feeling of confusion. He opened his eyes just in time to catch something falling forward, that something was you.

Suddenly the face you had seen over your computer and phone screen, the face you had seen in magazines and commercials for as long as you have been a fan was less than a few inches in front of you. His dark brown eyes were big with shock and wonder and the sides of his face were slightly dampened due to the energetic choreography he had just done. The sea of army bombs created a mini galaxy in his eyes.

At first you thought, wow he looks so handsome.

Then you wondered wait, how did I get onstage?

Your mind seemed to catch up with you. You took notice that you were in fact on stage and in front of Jeon Jungkook. Could it be a possibility that it was the night before the concert and you were dreaming? This couldn't be real.

You felt your heart leap and an unintended gasp left you. Jungkook's mouth dropped a little bit and his own eyes widen in realization. The tall man helped you so that you were standing straight and took a small step back. However, he couldn't quite let go of you instead he kept his hands wrapped around yours.

The melody continued on without the maknae's voice. This caught the attention of many fans and the other members. They were all confused when the didn't hear Jungkook's voice. Luckily his part wasn't long and Jin quickly began to sing his own part.

You tensed within his hold and a feeling of happiness and dread filled you. Taking a look around the stage, you first saw V tap J-Hope and point in your direction. Namjoon was currently rapping his verse but that didn't stop his eyes from widening as well. Jimin who was behind Jungkook grinned at you. Suga had took notice of the situation as well with Jin neither of them knowing how they could fix this. That left every member either looking at you or doing their best to pretend nothing out of the ordinary was going on.

It didn't seem to be working because the audience started to get louder. You question for a moment if it was always this loud for the members onstage. It was hard to understand anything with all the noise but you caught a little bit.

"Look that's Jungkook's soulmate!" A voice closest to the stage squealed.

It was real. It was all real!

You were horrified. This moment, one of the most intimate moments between two soulmates has been seen by hundreds. It's probably been recorded by now. For all you know it would be on Twitter by tomorrow. This wasn't supposed to happen like this. You dreaded the thought of this private moment on social media for days to come.

Namjoon was quickly making his way over to you with a security guard as well.

Everything was moving so rapidly you just wanted to get out of this situation. You wanted to disappear. You began to realize you were breathing quicker than normal.

"Hey." A voice said so soft, you almost didn't catch it over the screams in the stadium. You look back to Jungkook only to meet the softest gaze you have ever come across. He looked so gentle towards you.

"It's okay."

He rubbed his thumbs over your skin attempting to calm you down and a shy bunny smile spread across his face.

"What's your name?" He asked with an excited glint in his eyes. Before you had the chance to respond a hand wrapped around your bicep.

"Come with me miss." The security guard said in urgency. Namjoon appears just a few seconds later and stands next to Jungkook. Just as you were being pulled away a strong grip stopped you.

"Wha-Wait." Jungkook mutters tightening his hold causing you to look back at him. He just met you, how could he be excepted to just let go of you?

"Jungkook, you can see her later but we need to get her off stage." Namjoon says in a stern voice towards the youngest.

Jungkook noticed the fearful look in your eyes and it made his heart ache. As much as he wanted to go with you so he could make sure you were okay he knew that your safety comes first. He then released your hand and in the blink of an eye you were ushered away from his sight.

The security guard took your arm and adviced you to keep your head down. You only looked ahead of your shoes not making eye contact with anything except the glossy stage floor.

When you got backstage everything passed by in a blur. People came up to you from all areas. They got you a bottle of water and lead you to a separate dressing room. You held on to the water bottle tightly, allowing it to serve as your anchor in all of this chaos.

"Wait here." The nice lady said with a small smile before closing the door. You took a careful breath in before gently letting it out. The room was bigger than you expected maybe that was because you were the only person in it. There were couches around making a U shape. Against the wall was a table of food and drinks, and as tempting as they looked you wouldn't dare grab one. The room was brighter and colder than it looked in behind the scenes videos.

Now alone in the quiet room you felt like you could breath a little bit.

You racked your brain with what to do now.

Jeon Jungkook was your soulmate.

Where do you go from here?

What about your best friend? She's freaking out no doubt.

Would it feel weird seeing as you were a fan?

You would just have to get to know him all over again. Learn his likes, his dislikes, and start as simple as possible. As you dig farther in your own thoughts you started to feel anxious.

Would he want to be with a random fan?

You honestly thought you were pretty, but what would others think? You know you shouldn't care but if he doesn't like the thought of you two together that would be another type of pain.

•••••••••••••

Intermission had finally started after another 4 songs. Jungkook practically flew pass the staff backstage once he found out which room you were in.

He rushed to the room that he was directed in but stopped short of running into the door. He stood stiff like a brick wall and took a deep breath. His soulmate was on the other side.

His soulmate.

He only saw you for a bit but his heart quickened at the thought of you.

He had wondered of this moment for a long time. Occasionally when the stress of life got to be too much he found himself dreaming of spoiling his soulmate and treating them like royalty. He would stay up wondering what their date nights would look like and what their love language was.

The other members knew how much of a hopeless romantic Jungkook was. They would often tease him whenever his head was in the clouds, they never took it too far though because they all secretly thought it was really sweet.

Jungkook thought about how he used to ask Jin about the meeting of soulmates and how it felt. He stopped asking after a while because of Jin's vague answers.

"I don't know, it just feels like...your being born."

"It's a warm feeling."

"You feel free...I guess."

"Jungkook-ah you'll know when you meet them!"

He had given up asking his hyung about how it felt to meet your soulmate. He tried to ignore any questions or thoughts of it but that was before he saw Jin cooking with his soulmate.

The look in his eyes while having his special person by his side warmed his heart. Jin's eyes gleamed with a distant euphoric look in them, it's a look Jungkook can't forget.

He wanted to feel that too.

You looked up at the sound of the door opening. Jungkook shuffles towards you in a daze. His eyes wet and red. You sprung to your feet suddenly feeling bashful and a little ridiculous under his intense eyes.

If you would have known you were going to meet your soulmate you would have dressed up a little more.

....maybe you wouldn't have worn your cooky headband.

He wordlessly took your hand once more. You allowed yourself to enjoy the unique feeling. His hand was very soft and a little warm probably because he was just dancing his heart out onstage. Your hands mold together and you swear electricity rushed through your veins. The room was silent as the two of you were deemed speechless. What do you say to the person you were waiting for all this time?

"Are you okay?"

When you look up, you see him blink down at you.

You grin at him and sheepishly nod. Jungkook let's out a small sigh of relief before smiling back at you. He lowers his head looking down at your connected hands. The ghost of the previous smile still on his face.

He looked so beautiful in this moment. You let your mind wander as you take in his features. Were you everything he dreamed of? Where do you go from here? Would you stay here? Would you go back home? Maybe you were getting ahead of yourself. Would you even start your relationship now?

You jumped out of your intermonolouge when you felt something wet on your hand. Looking down at your intertwined hands you saw a small tear.

"Ah," He mutters using his other hand to wipe his face. The embarrassment he was feeling showed through his pink tinted cheeks.

You were stunned. You never imagined that your soulmate would be choked up at this, at you. However it made your grin wider and your heart swell with adoration. You took a small step closer but not by much. You raised your hands to his cheeks allowing his tears to be caught by your thumbs. Jungkook noticed you were hesitant in your actions. He was just glad to have you so close after all this waiting. Jungkook leaned into your touch as a sweet gesture.

You were never told what it would be like to meet your soulmate. Sure, you heard classmates and co-workers talking about their own experiences, however the most common description was that it was a wordless feeling. One that couldn't possibly be capture in a few words.

Now you understood.

Looking into his big galaxy eyes, you felt breathless. It felt like, you could search every planet in the universe and you still wouldn't find anyone like him. Your heart felt like it was craving his but also wanted to shy away from the bizarre feeling. How could you put a word to such an intense emotion.

Jungkook's eyes suddenly catch something above you and his smile widens. "I like your headband."

You let out a small laugh at his comment feeling your cheeks warm. "Day 1, and you're already teasing me."

Jungkook squeezes your hand and holds it with his other, making it so your hand was in between both of his. He held your hand so cautiously, like it was a precious jewel.

He then looks to something else behind you. You turn around and see his six older brothers looking at him with fondness.

"Uh, sorry to interrupt but we need you back on stage." Jin says. He hated to interrupt this moment. It reminded him so much of when he had found his soulmate. He just wanted to spend all of his time with them and to pull Jungkook away when he just met his just made him feel bad.

"Oh right..." Jungkook said a little hesitant. He look back at you, his eyes showing a range of emotions. "You will wait here won't you?"

"Of course." You respond without hesitation.

Jungkook gave you another bright grin before he followed his hyungs out of the door.

You found out later through social media, that while Jungkook was onstage he began to cry.

"I-uh..." Jungkook paused looking out to the sea of fans, that despite everything he wanted to share this moment with them.

"I just found my soulmate."

I hope you enjoyed! Please comment and reblog if you did!

💜💜💜

#bangtan #bts fluff #bts jungkook #bts soulmate au #soulmate au #bts fanfic #bts fantasy au #soulmate fic #jeon jungkook #jungkook fluff #bts oneshot #jungkook imagine #jungkook oneshot #jungkook headcanons #bts army

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falling-pages · 3 years

Text

Let me be your strength: MoriHaru

I transcribed this at 2 a.m., so it's not edited nor well put-together. But I liked it and thought it was cute, and there is not nearly enough MoriHaru content. Shoutout to @ohshcscenerios for listening to me cry about this AND for making the mood board!!!!

Summary: When the pressures of life threaten to snap Haruhi like a twig, she learns to fall into the arms of an old friend.

(AKA me thirsting over Takashi for 4k words)

Takashi Morinozuka x Haruhi Fujioka

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: Talk of terminal illness

It wasn’t the champagne that made Haruhi lightheaded or twisted her stomach into knots, but she refused her second glass and sent the waiter away with a polite wave. The heat from the throngs of crowded pressed down on her, though the space was large and cool. She wished she could move outside, but the unbearable heat of a summer evening kept her clinging to her cold glass of water and air conditioning.

She dabbed at the sweat lining her brow, threatening to wash out the makeup Renge had so carefully applied. Haruhi rarely wore it, and when she did Renge always did it for her. They usually stuck together at parties, but she had slipped away as soon as they walked inside. For that, Haruhi couldn’t fault her--the ball was to celebrate hers and Tamaki’s engagement, after all.

The foundation was sticky in her pores, thick eyelashes framing her vision. She was too hot, too tired, too shifty. She tried to enjoy the party, but the source of her discomfort roared deep inside.

“Hello, Haruhi.”

She jolted, briefly, at the voice, so locked up in her thoughts she didn’t even notice the man approach her. Her old classmate towered above her, but his presence was welcome.

“Hi, Mori,” she sighed, leaning into the shadow he cast. Her skin cooled, but her heart burned at how close he was. “It’s nice to see you.”

Mori chuckled, eyes aglow with mirth. Or maybe alcohol, she couldn’t really tell. She had spent the last few minutes searching for anyone she knew at the ball, and it had seemed everyone was classily drunk on their wealth and drinks. It only added to her longing to go home, the guilt lodged in the back of the throat.

How could she be at a party when her father was so sick at home?

“Same to you,” her friend replied. His silver eyes raked down her body, taking in her dress, her makeup, her hair. His glance didn’t feel perverted, though, nor unwelcome. More like an artist working his eyes over a classic masterpiece. “You look very beautiful.”

Haruhi blushed magenta. Renge had worked her magic, lining her eyes and brushing pink wax against her lips, transforming the tired law student into a high-society lady for a night.

“Thank you,” she whispered, holding his gaze, despite every nerve telling her to look away. “You don’t think it’s too much?”

Mori inhaled. He blinked, washing his eyes anew, forcing the bourbon out of his system. He needed to see her straight, and he looked. He looked carefully. Dutifully. Rolling something over in his mind. “On you?” he answered. “Never.”

Haruhi sucked her tongue and smiled, letting herself feel beautiful, letting her insecurities dissipate under his gaze. “You know, this is all Renge’s work,” she explained. “The makeup, and we went dress shopping together.”

Mori grunted, envisioning it a precursor to wedding dress shopping Renge would surely drag her to in the upcoming months. He had to admit, the young lady did a great job -- the light green stitching against the pale yellow silk made Haruhi look like a flower in spring.

“We had to lock Tamaki in the house to keep him from coming with us,” Haruhi continued. She joined Mori’s laughter. “He still thinks of me as a doll he can dress up and play with.”

“Would you rather he had gone with you?”

Haruhi considered, squinting her eyes. “I’m not sure if he would have calmed her down or just doubled the madness.”

“Calmed her down, doubled your madness.”

“Yeah.”

“Mm.”

They shared an easy smile before Mori stepped away, by her side, to scan the crowd. Tamaki and Renge were sitting at a table overflowing with wine and hors d'oeuvres, chatting as he fed her a bit of cheese on a cracker. Both of them, likely drunk out of their minds, fell into laughter as he missed her mouth, snapping the cracker against her cheek.

“They’re good for each other,” Haruhi mused, not bothering to hide her wistfulness. “The king of excessive compliments, and the queen of backhanded ones.”

Mori noticed the lilting quirk in her voice, veering on the slight edge of jealousy. He grunted again, prompting an explanation.

“While we were getting ready, I asked her if it were too much,” Haruhi said. She sipped from her water glass, swallowing delicately. “I didn’t want to outshine the bride-to-be at her own engagement party. And you know what she said? She said, ‘Don’t worry, you don’t outshine me.’” This time Haruhi was the one to grunt, indignation crossing lines on her forehead. “Maybe she didn’t mean it like that. Maybe she meant something nice in French and it just came out bad in Japanese.”

Mori stayed silent as a waiter approached them with a tray of champagne. He reached for a flute, raising his eyebrows in a silent question to her, but she shook her head, and he refused as well.

“It’s strawberry.”

Haruhi perched her lip in question.

“The champagne.” He finished his bourbon, setting the glass down on a nearby stand. “They did that for you. They remembered you like strawberries.”

Haruhi briefly smiled, but took another sip of water. “That’s kind of them.”

Mori noticed the way she gripped her drink, the way she stared at the happy couple with blacked-out pupils. She couldn't be jealous of them individually, he knew. But of them as a couple? As a concept? Of their happy smiles?

He wanted to tell her she could outshine a thousand suns, that the golden shimmer on her cheekbone reminded him of a fairy queen, that in the lightness of her skin she could have trapped the moon. But he didn’t; he raised his fist to his mouth, cleared his throat, and tore his eyes away.

“You’re jealous,” he muttered. “Why?”

Haruhi snapped her gaze back to him. He had always been able to read her like a book, a riddle solved without explanation as the others stood scratching their heads. He looked back down at her, seeing how small she really was beside him. Confusion stirred in her deep eyes.

“Are you not?” he repeated.

She tore his eyes away from his, feeling movement in her chest. The terrifying ordeal of being known. She knew the champagne wasn’t the cause of her stomach knots, this time, either; rather, the smell of his cologne, strong and musky, left her lips parted in silent contemplation.

“I am,” she confessed. The drink weighed heavily in her hand. “They’re so carefree. There’s not a thought behind those eyes. They’re happy and don’t have stress or law school or a sick parent at home they should be caring for right now--”

Mori took the glass from her hand and set it on the table before stepping in front of her, bowing and extending his hand. She paused her rambling, just now noticing the change of music into a love song and the couples thronging onto the dance floor.

“Haruhi,” Mori said, “may I have this dance?”

Without hesitation she slipped her hand in his, allowing him to lead her onto the floor.

Just that little bit of touch sparked an inferno in his lungs, and he strained against the desire to just wrap her in his arms and whisk her away.

Once they floated to a free space, he took her right hand clasped in his left and took her waist with the other, spreading his fingers over the soft bodice of the gown.

“Is this okay?” he whispered.

“Yes,” Haruhi gasped, nearly euphoric at the feeling of his strong hands on her. She had been alone for so long that she didn’t even realize how touchstarved she was until his thumb rolled over her knuckles. Like it was right, like it was the only thing that mattered.

Mori led her in a waltz, guiding her clumsy feet with his experienced steps. He was a man so prone to the wild that she had nearly forgotten he was raised in aristocracy, trained and learned in all things fine and elegant. He probably learned this waltz as soon as he could walk.

And yet he held her with firm hands, looked at her with gentle eyes, softly correcting her mistakes without annoyance, only a speck of amusement playing in the upturned smile on his lips. He was in control, and this dance was the only thing she didn’t have to stress over. It made her want to fall into his arms and have him take care of everything else, too.

She noticed, too, his handsome features, as there was nowhere else to look but his face. He was taller now than in their youth, a broad-shouldered man of 26, heady and well-established and strong. She thought him too tall and muscled to be a graceful dancer, but she had forgotten he was a hunter, a fighter, a swordsman at his core. His suit, dark green and black, barely clung to his athletic frame. He was absolutely massive compared to her. Gone were the lanky, tall boy and flat-chested girl that once walked Ouran’s halls. Now they were man and woman at their peak.

She wondered how he had not found a wife yet, then wondered how she had never noticed him before.

He noticed, too. Every girlish feature he had adored in high school matured into ones of a woman mother nature scorns. When his fingers brushed her ribcage, she turned her attention back to his face. He was looking at her with the same intensity, but not the same recognition, like he was seeing something he had always known. His nose was noble, lips full, jaw sharp as his eyes. But what caught her attention was the scar, white against his tan face, jutting through his left eyebrow. It had healed long ago, the result of a kendo accident his first year of college, but the hair of his eyebrow never grew back correctly. The scar was turned and jilted and railed against the puckered skin, so untameable that Mori had stopped trying.

But Haruhi thought it suited him. The man could outrun the wild, but the wild would always catch up to him. The bit of evidence that he was more than what his last name got him.

Suddenly, she wanted to touch it. She had never felt the urge before; she barely noticed it, to be honest, and would never disrespect her friend like that.

But then again, he had never held her so intimately before.

Before she could, Mori cleared his throat. He had waited until she was settled in the dance to question her further, but she was staring so intently at him that he kept quiet. Had he been less tan, she would have seen him blush.

“What else is going on,” Haruhi?” he asked, turning slightly to avoid bumping into another couple.

She took a breath, disappointed that her reprieve had ended. She enjoyed looking at him. If he allowed it, she would have all night.

“You know, my dad,” she said simply, and Mori nodded, pulling her closer. Feeling his hand squeeze her made her woozy. “He’s still so sick. Not getting any better, not getting any worse. Just on the verge of needing someone to care for him at all times.”

Mori nodded again, chin hovering above her head. She watched his Adam’s apple bob as he spoke. “Is there anything I can do?”

“No, thank you.” Haruhi did not miss the singular I. “Kyoya has been gracious with paying for the medical care, and for the nurses staying at our house. You all have done enough. Truly.” She looked up at him and did her best to smile, but even she knew he wouldn’t believe it. “It’s just so difficult because he needs care 24/7. So I feel guilty about going to class, guilty about sleeping, guilty about being here.” Her steps and voice faltered, eyelids fluttering to avoid tears. “I shouldn’t be here,” she whispered, tugging her hands away from him. “I should be at home, with him. He needs me--”

She tried to turn around, but Takashi grabbed her waist and pulled her to him, shuffling so she could look into his eyes. Her gaze wandered just above them--to his scar, he was sure--but he shook her very slightly, very gently, like waking a baby. “Haru,” he whispered, taking the liberty of a nickname. Her eyes flashed in pleasure, in a memory, bright with tears and charm. But her bottom lip trembled.

“You deserve a break,” he said, using his strength against her for the first time, making her look at him, to hear every word he spoke. “You have done so much. You have suffered so much. You deserve a break.”

Haruhi tried to fight him, but it was useless--he was right, and he was here, willing to provide it. Beneath her anger, beneath her sadness, there was just exhaustion, burning like a bed of red-hot coals, and she was dangling just over the edge of it, so close she could feel the hellish fumes on her face. They drew smoke up her nose, wracking coughs through her chest, burning and blistering her palms as she clung to the rope just barely keeping her alive.

Either the rope would snap, or she would.

Her father had depended on her ever since she was a child, and she had no choice but to claw her way up the frayed thread. But now her lungs burned, her fingers bled. All she wanted was rest.

She had to drop sometime.

A warm hand on her shoulder roused her back, and she looked into her friend’s steel gray eyes, now warm and pooling like molten lead. When his fingers glided along her cheek, she realized she had been crying, and wiped away the tears. He didn’t speak, only caught the ones she missed.

“I’m not strong enough,” she whispered. Her mouth twisted into neither a smile nor grimace, but a ghostly combination of both. “They were right. I’ll never be like my mom, I’ll never be good enough.” Her exhaustion poured over her in buckets, weak knees finally giving in, stumbling forward into Mori’s chest. He caught her without reservation; he had since the moment they met, and he always would.

He was strong enough to stay still when she fell, propping her back up and sheltering her against him, within his arms. He held her fastly, tightly, as she cried, nine years worth of pining and love for the taking, manifesting in front of their very eyes.

He knew how difficult it was. He had just graduated from the same law school only months prior, had the same professors and took the same classes. He himself barely scraped through at times. Even though he had given her his old books and notes, she struggled--and no wonder, having to constantly take care of her father.

“You’re right,” he said against the shell of her ear. She shivered, and he ran a hand up and down her back to soothe her. “You’re not like your mother. She ever had to carry the burden you do.”

Mori saw the weights tied to her feet, dragging her over the edge. She was going to slip, and soon--she couldn’t continue the facade of strength when she barely slept at night, barely processed her mornings over coffee, barely found the motivation to shower and brush her teeth when all she wanted was to sit at her father’s side and cry.

Maybe she thought she was concealing it well, but he was a Morinozuka, trained and battle-hardened and able to pinpoint weaknesses. He didn’t want her to hide from him.

A cold hand wrapped around Haruhi’s heart, and she pressed further into Mori’s chest. Then she realized herself and flung back, cheeks reddening at her boldness.

“Gosh, I’m so sorry, Mori, I forgot my place,” she said, keeping her eyes fixed on his very expensive shoes.

“No, no, Haru, no,” he said, scrambling for words. He cursed his silent nature. “I’m not going to let you fall. You are safe with me. I am never going to let anything happen to you.”

For a man whose strategy was always holding his cards close to his chest, he threw them down, baring his heart and soul to her mercy, desperately, as he tried to comfort her. He bent down, awkwardly long limbs sufficient in holding her, pressing her head to his chest. Her shampoo smelled so sweet, like the cherry blossoms waving just outside, and she felt so small curled up in his protective embrace. It sparked a heat in his knuckles, anger in his heart.

No one so sweet and good should have to suffer like this.

When she was ready, she moved away from his chest, accepting his willing hand wiping away her tears and the handkerchief in this pocket to hide behind until she regained her composure. Her makeup was ruined, and her hair was in disarray, but Mori thought she had never looked more beautiful than under his arm, pressing her cheek against his hand, chasing his comfort.

As soon as she smiled at him again, he took her hand and spun her back into the waltzing position. Mori built up the confidence to speak again.

“Is it alright if I call you Haru?”

A blythe smile. Pink tinged around her ears. “Yes.”

“Good.” He swallowed. “Haru, you are strong, and beautiful. It breaks my heart to see you like this. If you need to lean on someone, lean on me. Let me be your strength."

A fluttery sigh escaped her lips. “Okay.”

Mori nodded, leading her quickly back into the dance. Amazing, how many songs could be waltzed to. His agile feet knew them all by heart, so he could bask in the young lady’s presence.

Their eyes met periodically, blushes exchanged, and then gazes wandered. His traveled to the dance floor, landing on Tamaki and Renge.

They danced like two fools in love--which they were, obviously. Clumsy, falting steps, swathed in each other’s arms, mouths colliding in mismatched kisses and loud laughter. When he read their lips, he saw them chattering away in French. He saw the light pouring into each other’s eyes, both of them the sun pouring warmth through the window of the other’s soul.

He saw the way Tamaki’s bride-to-be looked at him, and wondered if the woman in front of him would spare him the same glance.

“You’re jealous,” Haruhi said suddenly. “Why?”

He turned to look at her, eyes narrowed in suspicion. Why did she use his own words against him?

She hid her smile behind her hand. “Are you not?”

He rolled his eyes, taking her firmly by the waist, as her hand returned to his shoulder.

“If you must know,” he muttered, twirling her under his arm, smiling as she giggled, “I am jealous. Because Tamaki has a beautiful lady in his arms, whom he loves, and who loves him, whom he can kiss and woo whenever he pleases.”

The orchestra suddenly roared, or maybe it was the blood in his ears when he noticed Haruhi’s hand tense in his. But, at least she didn’t drop it. She spun back into his chest, clinging to his shoulder like her grip would imprint on his suit. And when she looked at him, eyes bright and wide and full of wonder, he saw the knowing glint within.

She cocked her head aside. Her steps slowed, and she looked at him, running her eyes up and down his body as if just now realizing how long they had been dancing together.

“And you long for that?” she asked.

Mori sighed, ears pricking as the music ended. He let her go and bowed, assuming her wariness a rejection. Parallel to the floor, at least, gave him time to hide his face, regain his composure, mask the pain flowing quickly to his hands.

“Yes,” he sighed. And then, throwing all decorum out the window with a cracking toss of the head and a to hell with it for social commentary, he spoke again. “I long for it the way a bird longs to fly. And it makes me jealous of them, because I, too, had a beautiful lady in my arms, whom I love most dearly, whom I also wish to kiss and woo, but I do not know if she loves me back.”

His heart rose in his throat, and he gasped as he uttered the last words, oxygen leaving his lungs and brain at the sight of her chewing her lip. She had likely never heard him speak so many words at once. But they had clouded his mind. He had lived with them for nine years, pushed them down beneath the surface even as they slithered and crawled around in the form of blushes on his cheeks and pats to her head.

Finally, she spoke. They had stood there for an eternity, watching the other breathe. Wondering whose heart would give out first.

“Well,” she whispered, stepping forward and taking his hand, “she does.”

And then she pressed herself on her tiptoes and kissed him, just in time of the climax of the new song, in beat with the swells of strings and cymbals and trumpets, forgetting, momentarily, where they were. Takashi didn’t forget, but he couldn’t have given less of a damn. He turned off his practiced decorum, the polite manners of the aristocracy, all he had ever known, and kissed her like a man starved. Like she was his last meal, like he was poisoned and she was the antidote. It was Tamaki and Renge’s ball, yes, but he, too, deserved to be selfish for the first time in his life.

Haruhi knit her brows in concentration. His body was so hard, rough and solid and muscled from his years of training, but his lips were soft. Even harder were his practiced hands as they clung to her waist. They bunched the dress, moving and touching and exploring, and it reminded her of some exploring she also wished to do.

Without breaking the kiss, her hand wandered from his shoulder to his jaw, threading in his hair, before landing at his temple stroking the fine hairs of his eyebrow. But she hesitated. Even as her tongue was in his mouth, she was nervous.

When her fingers brushed the scar, he grunted. Though it was muffled by her mouth, the shame filled her stomach. She moved her hand back to his hair, but he grunted again, pulling just inches away to see the mortification hollowing her pupils. He pulled her hand forward, pressing a kiss to it, and replaced it where it belonged. He clutched her closer, watching in amusement as she touched as she pleased. The scar was rough and tattered, like the rest of him, but it distinguished him from the fine elegance of the ball.

She never cared for fine elegance, anyways.

Mori leaned down to press a softer kiss to her swollen lips. Haruhi’s stomach twisted into knots. How this force of nature could love her so tenderly was beyond her.

But when the song ended all too soon, he took her hand and led her to a table, snagging a glass of water for her. He whispered her name, his voice the soft type of strong that made her feel safe. “If you’ll have me, I’d like to call you mine.”

Haruhi’s mouth filled with cotton. She cautiously moved her hands up his chest, circling the knot of his tie.”Mori…”

“Call me Takashi, please,” he said, reaching down to hold her face. His thumb swiped gently over her lips, seeing how flushed and full they were. “Or you can call me Mori, or anything else you wish. It only matters to me that it comes from your lips.”

She gave off a sigh, a damp, fluttering sound from the back of her throat. “Yes,” she cooed, breathless. “Yes, Takashi, yes.”

At her perfect annunciation, Takashi swept her into his arms, lifting her high into the air, almost like the first time in Music Room Three, but this time she was smiling, and laughing, and maybe it was the candlelight and stringed musicians that made him feel so romantic, but he thought he could see forever in the way her glistening tears met her smile.

#ouran high school host club #haruhi fujioka #takashi morinozuka #mori x haruhi #moriharu #takaharu #takashi x haruhi

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hiiraya · 3 years

Text

you were good to me (rewrite)

masterlist

pairing: natasha romanoff x reader

words: ~2,186

warnings: angst

requested: nope :p

a/n: this is edited but i'm sure there are still a few mistakes (all of which are my own) part 2 (two) of the didn't know what i had series! this was inspired by the song of the same title, so have a listen while you read! hope y'all are staying safe ♡

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

“What are trying to say, Nat?”

“Please give me another chance.”

“Marriage isn’t in the card for me, a family isn’t in the cards for me. I’m sorry if it is for you, but I can’t give you that.”

That's what she told you when you asked her why she said no.

It was a bullshit excuse and you both knew it, but you knew better than to ask her about it again.

You knew her well enough to know that when she had made her mind up, there was no changing it.

Now she’s standing in front of you asking you to take her back.

Natasha knows that she became defensive whenever you brought up marriage in conversation, hating the way she just watched you become more and more disheartened every time she brushed the topic off with a half-assed excuse.

She hated the way you tried so hard to hold onto what was left of your relationship and she didn't even try to do the same.

She hated that you knew her like the back of your hand - knowing when to push and when to just leave her be with her thoughts.

She wanted to hate you so much because she didn’t want to accept the fact that she pushed you away far enough that you finally had enough and left before she could do any more damage.

She'd rather blame on anyone else but herself because it kills her inside to watch you stare at her without saying anything.

“Marry me?”

“Y/N… I’m sorry, but I can’t marry you.”

It never gets easier remembering the discouraged look you gave her after you realised that she turned down your proposal.

It haunts her every time she looks at you - the way your eyes turned sad and your shoulders slumped over after she pulled you to your feet and told you no.

Because she remembers what happened after.

She made you go through it after all.

She made you watch Tony and Pepper get engaged and married, and again with Wanda and Vision shortly after.

Like both her and the universe was trying to rub it in your face that Natasha had flat out rejected you.

It annoyed her every time someone on the team would tease you two about how you were going to be the next couple to get hitched, always seeing the way you would look at her from the corner of her eyes before she would excuse herself to go train, or even to just hide out in her room until all talk of all things marriage related were over.

As much as she hates to admit it, but looking back on it, the more she avoided you the easier it got to ignore you and the pensive expression that always seemed to be on your face altogether.

It's easy to be a coward and hide away when you weren’t the one hurting back then huh?

The voice in her head is cruel, but it spoke the truth even when she doesn’t want to accept it.

She hurt you, simple as that. She can’t do anything now that’ll change what’s already happened.

Maybe you both made mistakes.

She ignored you.

You left.

Not that she could blame you though. Relationships were about experiencing life and growing with your other half, it wasn't always going to be easy, you both knew that, but in the end she only made you grow tired of the games she was playing.

Natasha always thought that the six years she spent with you by her side was a pretty long time.

But somehow, the year she spent without you felt a hell of a lot longer than that.

Once the realisation had sunk in that you had really left and that you were gone, really gone, along with the relationship you two had scared her.

But she's not afraid anymore to admit that she’ll have to grow old without you, still very much unwilling to entertain the thought of seeing you with someone else.

She swore that she convinced herself that she was over you.

After all, she’s had a year to forget.

To forget the way you laughed - always with your whole chest, always wholeheartedly, the contagious sound never failing to make Natasha smile and laugh along with you.

To forget your voice - how you always tried to be soft spoken and gentle and polite no matter who you were talking to.

To forget the comforting aura you always seemed to have - that no matter how tough things became, Natasha knew that even being by your side was enough to reassure her that things would be okay, things would get better as long as she had you by her side.

The list could go on.

She's had a year to forget the things that she never knew she could miss until she started missing them.

Natasha hates that you still have this effect on her. But she’s come to accept the fact that she had never truly felt warmth than when she was with you.

As much as she loved being in solitude (she’s lived in it for so long, it was all she knew for a long time), she never liked the feeling of being alone.

As much as she remembers the day you proposed to her, she remembers it just as clear, if not more, the day she told you that you two were going nowhere.

“I don’t want to talk to you anymore about this.”

“Well you don't have to worry about that," You retort. "You don’t ever have to talk to me anymore about anything, Natalia.”

If only you saw the way she ran around the compound and the facility looking for you after Clint had told her in passing that she saw you leaving with Maria, hoping that you didn't actually leave and that he was only messing with her.

But your empty room told her otherwise.

She spent hours sitting on your bed, waiting for you to walk in so she could talk to you, properly this time but you never came.

You didn't return for a long time.

"You told me you were done talking to me. The only thing I’ve ever wanted was to make you happy, Nat, and if me leaving made you breathe a little easier and relax a little more, then I made the right choice. I didn’t want to make things any harder for you, for us, or for anyone.”

That’s what you told her.

If you only knew how wrong you were.

It was you who made her breathe a little easier; it was who you made her relax a little more; it was you made life easy when it seemed like just existing was the hardest thing in the world to do.

She’s never been so sorry in her life.

“Did you mean it?" She asks, when you don't answer her. "When you told Wanda that proposing was a stupid idea? Do you regret asking me to marry you?”

You’re still staring at her, and if she didn’t know you as well as she did, she would think that you were just thinking of a way to let her down easily.

But there was something you wanted to get out, and Natasha could tell that you were thinking it through, making sure that it comes out the way you wanted it to.

It gave her hope that you would say that you didn’t.

She spent a long time regretting ever saying no to you and if you told her that yes, you did regret asking her, then she would just accept the fact that she lost you for good.

“I already told you I wasn’t going to push you into something you didn’t want, Nat.”

It’s not the response she was expecting, but it’s better than hearing ‘yes, I regret it’. So, she tries again to get a definitive answer from you.

“But do you regret it?”

You sigh and she watches as you look away for a second before your E/C eyes met hers. She inhales sharply, heart beating loudly in anticipation when you open your mouth.

“Despite what happened, no. I don’t regret it.”

She feels her body relax for a second, but she goes back on edge when you start to speak again.

“I don’t regret asking you, because then at least I can say that I tried. But it was stupid of me to just assume that you would say yes because of how long we'd been together.”

It’s like you just took a pair of scissors and severed the last heartstrings she had, every word you spoke more heart-breaking than the last.

If this is what heartbreak felt like, how did you feel when she broke your heart over and over again back then? Because if this is what it felt like then she would gladly spend the rest of her life making it up to you.

“You’re not stupid for wanting things, Y/N/N.”

You gave her an indifferent shrug, like you thought that what you wanted wasn’t important anymore.

“It’s in the past now.” You murmur.

She could tell that it still hurt you to talk about, despite trying to look so nonchalant while you were talking to her. Pain still flickered in your eyes now every now and again while you looked at her. Not to mention that you bit your lip when you weren’t talking, something Natasha knew you only did when you were having troubling thoughts.

“Do you still want that?" She questions aloud. "With me?”

The million dollar question.

She knows that you would’ve laughed back then and teased her at how serious the two of you were being. Instead you’re looking at her with such intensity that Natasha’s trying to ignore the spark of hope starting to build inside.

“I do.”

This probably wasn’t the time and place where you wanted to say those words, but little did you know that your words just filled the her with such relief, Natasha felt like she could breathe properly for the first time in a year.

You still wanted a future with her, something she was so sure you wouldn’t want after everything that’s happened.

“Do you think we’ll ever get back to where we were before?”

“I don’t know, but I hope so?” You tell her, with a tilt of your head. “Whatever you're willing to give, Nat, I'll gladly take.”

“Really?”

You surprise her when you suddenly step forward and take her hands in your own, squeezing them gently to get her full attention (not that you didn’t already have it).

“I love you, Nat, I always have," You admit. "And I know that it might’ve seemed like I stopped, but how can I? I knew what I was signing myself up when let myself fall for you.”

She doesn't know when she started to cry but she couldn't bring herself to care, she can see in your eyes just how much everything's affected you too, something she didn't see before (because she knows that the hurting that she's went through definitely wasn’t one-sided).

Your eyes soften at the sight of her tears and she has to choke back a sob when you reach your hand up to gingerly wipe the tears from her cheeks with your thumb.

You always told her you hated it when she cried and made it your personal mission to make sure that every day you were with her, she would never have to shed a tear.

“I love you on purpose and I love you by choice, wholeheartedly and intentionally. I love you.”

She didn’t know she could cry anymore, but seeing the tears welling up in your eyes is enough to bring a new onslaught of fresh tears.

Why did I ever let you leave, Y/N?

“I missed you.” It’s the first thing she can say after she regains her senses enough to remember that she has to actually open her mouth and respond so you know that she feels the same. “And I love you. I love you so much.”

The smile you give her makes her smile right back even though she’s well aware that she looks like a mess right now. She couldn’t care less when you're give her that smile.

The one you only reserved for her, the one that went away all those months ago Natasha almost forgot what it looked like. Your smile that was so wide it reached your eyes, turning them into crescent shapes that Natasha often compared it to the moon.

Your smile so warm, Natasha almost couldn’t believe she risked living a life in the cold without it.

She wraps her arms around your waist, shuffling closer to you until she was enveloped in your arms. One look in your eyes and she knew that this was where she was always meant to be.

I swear, I’m different than before, Y/N. I’ll never hurt you like that again.

———

tags:

@fayhar @genesisnievesr

#natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #natasha x reader #avengers x reader #black widow imagine #avengers imagine #marvel imagine #myfics.txt #i need to sleep it's 1am sdfhdfadd

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writerofthecourt · 4 years

Text

magician’s vow

pairing: suna rintarou x reader

summary: the sequel to beautiful illusionist

warning: slight time skip spoilers, some swearing, slight alcohol consumption

a/n: inspired by the songs lemon and eine kleine by yonezu kenshi. i wanted this sequel to be a lot more introspective and suna-focused. i hope you guys enjoy

EDIT: the series’ masterlist can be found here

“I like you.”

“…Eh?”

Suna watched in amusement as you stared back at him with confusion swirling in your eyes. He could practically see the gears turning in your head as you slowly processed his words before your pretty face started to heat up in embarrassment.

The two of you were currently sitting on the bench, lost in the flow of your own conversation as the other Inarizaki volleyball club members all lounged around the gym, trying to catch their breaths before they had to return to their grueling practice.

“Since when?” you inquired, shyly peeking at Suna through your lashes.

“For a while now,” he admitted with a shrug. The tall middle blocker couldn’t help but grin in response to your now timid smile. He found it hard to look away, enamoured by the sparkle of your eyes and the cute expression on your face.

“I-I like you too,” you stuttered out, turning to fully face Suna.

“So it’s a date then?” Suna asked as he tried to mask the undertone of eagerness in his voice.

You only giggled before answering his question with an enthusiastic nod. “Yeah, it’s a date!”

Suna frowned as the memory came to an end. Sitting alone at the dining room table, he rested his head on the back of the chair and loosely held a can of beer in hand as he waited for the alcohol to take effect. It was times like these where Suna cursed his high alcohol tolerance.

He used to take pride in it back when he and Atsumu would visit home and go out drinking with Osamu at the local izakayas. He would laugh at Atsumu’s inability to handle his alcohol after only a few drinks, but now Suna found himself envying the blond idiot, as all he wanted was for the numbness to consume him.

He had broken up with Minami nearly two weeks ago, the day after you had left him. It was a messy break up, if Suna could even call it that. There was a lot of screaming and cursing involved, with Minami eventually handing in her resignation letter. Suna would have guessed that she got tired of being around his presence, and he would say that the feeling was mutual. He could no longer stand the sight of Minami, not when all she did was remind him of his regrets and failures.

Taking another gulp of his beer, Suna’s thoughts soon turned to you and the baby. Were you okay? Were you safe? Was the baby healthy? All these questions lingered in Suna’s head, repeating over and over again like a broken record player.

Despite his best efforts to contact you again, it seemed as if you had just disappeared off the face of the Earth. Your number was disconnected, and you were no longer working at your company. It was almost as if your very existence in Suna’s life was nothing more than a beautiful, fleeting dream, and now that you were gone, he was only left with his memories of you.

A series of loud knocks on the front door soon brought Suna out of his pitiful thoughts. Furrowing his eyebrows in confusion, Suna set down his beer and lethargically went to answer the door, squashing the faint glimmer of hope in the back of his head telling him that it could be you.

“Oi, Suna, open up! I know yer fuckin’ in there!”

The hell? Atsumu? Suna thought as he reached for the door knob.

Opening the front door, Suna had no time to say anything before the door was violently pushed back by an angry Atsumu, his brother standing not too far behind him.

“Yer a real bastard, y’know that?” Atsumu snarled as he pushed past Suna and stomped his way into the living room. Osamu simply said nothing as he glared at Suna before following after his twin.

“Well, hello to you too,” Suna drawled out sarcastically. “It’s only one in the morning, but would you like some tea? Some snacks to go with it?”

Closing the door behind him, Suna made his way into the living room as well, only to see Atsumu pacing around in circles, while Osamu silently stood next to the couch. After some more pacing, Atsumu angrily grabbed at his dyed locks before pointing at Suna with a scalding glare.

“I trusted ya! I fuckin’ trusted ya!” Atsumu shouted furiously. “When ya came to me and ‘Samu asking for our blessings, I believed in ya! All she did was love and care for ya, and this is how ya repay her?!”

Unable to respond, Suna could only hesitantly look away in shame. He couldn’t retort and sass Atsumu back like he usually would. The blond said nothing but the truth.

“‘Tsumu, calm down,” Osamu sighed in exasperation. “Yer gonna wake up the whole damn neighbourhood.”

“Calm down? Calm down?!” Atsumu asked hysterically, turning to his brother. “How can I stay calm after what he did! Aren’tcha angry, ‘Samu?!”

“Practically seething,” Osamu said sharply. “But do ya really want someone calling the cops on us for a noise complaint?”

As the brothers began to get into their own argument, Suna spoke up bitterly, trying to save face. “I don’t see how it’s any of your guys’ business. [Y/N] is a grown woman. She can handle herself.”

The twins promptly stopped their argument after Suna’s bold claim, silently redirecting their gazes to glare at him. Osamu was the first one to move, marching up to Suna with a dark look in his eyes.

“None of my business, huh?” Osamu asked mockingly before he delivered a harsh shove to Suna’s shoulder. “Were ya there to pick her up from the train station when she arrived in Hyogo in tears?”

Shoving Suna again, Osamu continued his barrage. “Were ya there to comfort her as she cried, thinking that her relationship failed because she wasn’t good enough?”

Another shove. “Were ya there to listen to her while she confided about how absolutely terrified she is to raise a child all on her own?”

With one final shove, Osamu had Suna stumbling back into the wall, his arms crossed rigidly as he pinned Suna in place with a seething glare.

“The moment ya fucked up, it became my business,” Osamu grounded out through clenched teeth.

Suna could do nothing but stare back at Osamu, unable to find the right words as he continued to suffer under the harsh scrutiny of his former classmate. He could handle Atsumu’s loud hysteria, but Osamu’s cold and calculated jabs only made Suna want to wither away in guilt.

“Out of respect for whatever friendship we have left, I’ll give ya one last warning,” Osamu stated coldly. “I won’t stop ya from seeking her out, but know that the moment ya do, I will be there to stop ya. Ya will never—ever—hurt [Y/N] again, and if ya do, I will absolutely destroy ya.”

With those last chilling words, Osamu silently marched out of the house, leaving a stunned Suna and Atsumu behind in his wake.

“W-what he said,” Atsumu stuttered, suddenly terrified of his brother’s newly established rage. Quickly making his exit as well, Atsumu soundly shut the door behind him as he left Suna to think about what had just happened.

Suddenly feeling exhausted, Suna slid down to the floor and ran his hands through his hair. He reflected on how fucked up his life had become and how he had no one to blame for it but himself.

Suna sighed as he locked the front door behind him before going through his usual routine of hanging up his jacket and slipping off his shoes. It was late at night, and he had just returned home from a game against the MSBY Black Jackals. It was a tough match, a highly anticipated one, and now that it was finally over, Suna couldn’t be any more relieved.

For the past few days, this game had been the talk of social media in the world of volleyball, with the fans being beyond excited to see two highly skilled Division 1 teams face off against each other. However, for the tall middle blocker, the recently concluded game only served as an awkward and bitter reunion between him and a certain blond setter.

“A whole year later and he’s still acting this way,” Suna mumbled as he thought back to Atsumu’s clipped formalities and passive aggressive remarks. “But I guess I can’t really blame him.”

Making his way into the house, the gloomy ambiance and empty hallways that greeted Suna were an all too familiar and tragic sight. As he stepped across the genkan, Suna couldn’t help but hear the faint and nostalgic sound of your voice, reminiscent of swaying wind chimes as you welcomed him back after a long time at work.

“Welcome home, Rintarou!”

“I’m home,” Suna said numbly.

Walking into the kitchen, Suna poured himself a glass of water before taking a seat at the dining room table. As he dropped his heavy gym bag onto the floor next to him, a thud rang out before everything returned to silence once again. Suna sombrely smiled, finding an odd sense of comfort in the loud noise. It made the house seem less empty now that you were no longer here to occupy the halls with your joyous laughter.

With nothing but his thoughts to keep him company, Suna began to wonder if this was how you felt as you spent those long, lonely nights waiting for him to come home. As his mind thought back to all of those missed dinners and late night practices he had lied about in order to spend time with Minami, his chest only filled with more dread. He truly was everything Atsumu and Osamu made him out to be.

Suna frowned before quickly finishing off his glass of water. Placing it into the sink, he picked up his gym bag and headed off towards the bedroom to retire for the night. After a quick shower and change of clothes, Suna lifelessly lay in bed, his hand outstretched as his fingers mindlessly traced up and down the cold bed sheets. His mind was restless as various thoughts and questions occupied his head, keeping him awake despite his physical fatigue.

What were you doing right now? Were you thinking of him?

As Suna rolled over to cross his arms over his eyes, the little self-deprecating voice in the back of his head added to the flame. It mockingly told him that he had everything he could have ever possibly wanted in life, so why did he throw it all away?

Sitting up to lean against the headboard, Suna knew that there was no use in trying to fall asleep at this point. His mind was too cluttered, and it raged on like a violent storm of regret and desperate longing. Turning to his bedside table, Suna switched on the lamp and reached into one of the drawers to pull out a torn and weathered envelope. Despite its sad state, it was an item that brought him immense hope and comfort.

Taking out a letter and photo, Suna found himself smiling as he gently traced the letter’s familiar handwriting before he began to read it.

Dear Suna-san,

I know this letter is a little bit unexpected, but I felt the need to write to you. How are you? I hope that you’re eating well and taking good care of yourself. It’s been a year since we parted ways, but it still feels so strange to be back home in Hyogo. At first, my parents were disappointed to learn we had broken off our engagement due to…personal reasons, especially considering the condition I was in. However, I am happy to report that they were still very much supportive of me in the end. I’ve recently started my new job at a local department store, and I’m also planning to move into a bigger apartment soon. So please, don’t worry about me. I’m doing just fine.

I heard from ‘Samu that the two of you are still not on regular speaking terms. I’m sorry about what happened between you, him, and ‘Tsumu. I never wanted to get in the way of your friendship like that…I hope one day that the three of you can all be friends again. Despite how much you always complain about those two, I know that you also deeply care about them.

On a happier note, there’s someone that I want to introduce to you. His name is Akio. Isn’t he the cutest?

Switching to the attached photo, Suna couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle at the proud grin on your face as you cradled a sleeping baby close to your chest. Your hair was a mess, and your eyes seemed more tired than usual, but Suna still thought that you looked breathtakingly beautiful.

He was born only a few months ago, but he already takes so much after you. ‘Tsumu was absolutely devastated when he tried to hold Akio for the first time, and Akio just wouldn’t stop crying. I guess it runs in the family, huh?

If I’m being honest, I do miss you sometimes…but I’m also too scared to see you right now. Will you even read this letter? Have you moved on with your life and forgotten about us? About me and Akio? All these doubts and questions keep running through my head, and a part of my hopes that you have moved on.

I’ve met someone new. He’s very kind, charming, and funny, yet in spite of all these things, I still can’t help but feel guilty, almost as if I didn’t try hard enough to keep our little family together. Despite everything that has happened between us, I continue to hope and dream that we can still someday be a family. I don’t think that we can ever go back to the way we used to be, but I do want you to be a part of Akio’s life. I’m still not ready to see you right now, but please wait for me and Akio. When I find the strength to do so, I’ll come find you, Rintarou.

Sincerely,

Miya [Y/N].

Suna only smiled, unbothered by the tears that escaped his eyes as he finished reading your letter. He proceeded to fold the piece of paper back up before pausing to look at the photo of you and Akio one last time. As he continued to gaze at the photo, Suna’s eyes softened, and his heart began to fill with love and adoration. He truly was a fool to have ever let you go.

Returning everything to its proper place, Suna curled up into the blanket, feeling at ease for the first time since he had arrived home. As he closed his eyes, Suna patiently waited for the day to come when he could finally welcome you back into his life. Perhaps not as a lover, but as a friend. For both you and Akio, he was willing to wait a whole lifetime and more. Drifting off to sleep, Suna slept soundly for the rest of the night.

fun fact: akio’s name is written with the characters for ‘bright/luminous, male’, and [y/n]’s new boyfriend is bokuto. it started with atsumu, and it ended with atsumu

taglist: @itsjuliaaa

#suna rintarou x reader #suna x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu reader insert #suna rintarou #miya osamu #miya atsumu #beautiful illusionist

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oneaddishun · 3 years

Note

Niall being single a dad to maybe a girl? Like maybe a day in the life of the Horans or something

WARNING: Mostly angst or fluff but since this is my first time writing non-smut, non-sexual, non-romantic fics, it might be cringe-y for certain audience.

Also, I didn't quite like the first draft with normal, everyday things. So I twisted it up a bit and made some plot with conflict. If you'd like to read the first draft, tell me and I'll post it too :)

EDIT AFTER WRITING THIS: What the hell is up with me? It does include talks of sex as well!! One! Can't I write just one fic without sexualising it?! Also, read at your own risk warning since I couldn't keep my hands off of sexual stuff. No description. Just talks of sex.

WORD COUNT - 1.3k +

NIALL'S POV

Writing. Writing. Writing.

That's what I've been doing since the last few weeks. I have barely had any time for my own daughter. I know her mother would be so ashamed of me. She left me with the only thing that mattered to her more than anything else and I couldn't take good care of it.

Lately my daughter has been a little moody and I can't blame her for it. I know she's been bottling up her emotions because she is a very understanding young woman but it's only a matter of time before she bursts.

I was on my couch doing my usual thing- writing songs. The pen in my hand would scribble on the paper in my lap from time to time. It would take me about a whole minute or two to move on to then next line. I would occasionally stare out of the window and look at the pouring rain. I could hear the light patter of rain on the soft grass as a heavenly smell filled my nostrils.

From the distance, I heard another sound which wasn't the rain. It was her; my daughter. I looked out of the window instantly and saw her pushing a guy out of our driveway and cursing at him.

"You fucking go away or I swear you'll regret following me here!" she yelled.

The guy muttered something back but it was hard for me to make out what he was saying. Maybe some words of apology?

I have never seen her with a guy that close- let alone curse at him. I was seeing a side of hers I had seen never before. She was like a flame. Even the rain and her drenching clothes weren't bothering her.

When the guy stopped talking- and mind you, he was making so many facial expressions that you'd get a headache just watching him- my daughter's expression turned cold. She stared at him as if she was a statue.

The she tightly closed her fist and smacked the guy on his face. She turned around and walked towards the front door.

As I expected, the doorbell rang moments later. I opened the door and she entered. She was wet from head to toe. The raindrops on her face made it hard to notice but I could see it in her eyes that she was crying. A million thoughts raced into my mind. The one that popped up the most was about how much she resembled her mother. Her eyes looked the same when she cried- beautiful, but filled with melancholy.

"Are-" I almost choked the first time. "Are you crying? Is everything alright?" I asked her, hiding the fact that I had seen everything.

"W-what? No- no. I- it must be the r-r-rain," She lied and without another word, she pushed me out of her way and stormed off to her room. It was kind of rude but I had to suck it up for then.

About half an hour later, I decided to check on her. I knocked on her room thrice. No response came. It was unusually quite. I knocked thrice again. Still no response. I barged into the room with worry.

The room was deserted as if no one was there. The bed was properly made and everything was in order. My daughter wasn't to be found anywhere. I looked around and paced everywhere, hoping to find her somewhere.

I heard a whimper from the bathroom and I rushed inside. My mouth hung open when I saw the scene in front of me. I was horrified.

Lying on the floor was my daughter I had taken care of since she was born. A blade beside her and a bleeding cut on her delicate wrist. I was shocked to my very core. What the hell was she doing?!

My mind went blank and for the second time in my life, I was going to cry for a girl. Her mother made this mistake and that's the reason she isn't here with me today. I can't let my daughter do this too. I bent my knees and sat down beside her. I then rested her head on my lap.

Her eyes were half open. She looked at me through them. A single tear left her her eye. Her hair were damp and wetting my pajama but I didn't care.

"NO!" I screamed with everything I had in me.

"Dad..." came her faint reply.

"This can't- You- I- that guy-"

"Dad..." she whispered but I didn't hear.

"You can't go! This-"

"DAD!" she screamed this time to get my attention. I stopped stuttering.

"Dad, it's not that deep. I'm sorry you had to see this," her words were spoken so softly that it took me a second to understand what she said. "I'm okay. Just tired, that's all,"

"Why did you do this?"

"Forget it dad,"

I took her in my arms and carried her to the bed. On the way, she lifted her arm and wiped the tears off of my face. I hadn't noticed it but apparently, I had been shedding tears all this while. I didn't stop her. I let her wipe it off. This reminded me so much of her mother; even she doesn't know how much. As if the past was repeating itself.

I laid her down on the bed and sat beside her- my hand intertwined with hers.

"It was him." she spoke up after a very awkward silence. The bleeding had stopped now since I had bandaged it. "He was my friend,"

"What did he do?"

"Dad, you have to promise me you won't say anything to anyone and keep calm,"

"I- I won't tell anyone," I promised her without talking about my calm. I have anger issues and she knows it. But I would try.

"We were more that friends. He was my-"

"Your boyfriend? Why would I get angry at that?"

"We were friends-" she looked me dead in the eye, "-with benefits,"

I audibly gasped.

"Shhh... Listen first. He tried to- t-" her voice was faltering so I held her hand. As if it gave her my power, she spoke up, her voice stronger now. "He- he didn't stop when I- I said the safe word. He s-s-slapped me and d-degraded me which was a hard rule but he- he-" she broke out into sobs.

I wrapped my arms around her and hugged her tightly.

"I saw what happened outside," I admitted and she nodded.

"I love you dad. I won't ever. Ever. Ever. Lie to you."

"I love you too, angel. What you did outside, well, the guy kinda deserved it. I don't care what happened to him but this here," I held out her wrist covered with mark that I had failed to notice ever since she started this.

She hugged me again. And in the hug, she whispered in my ear, some words of apology. I gently smiled and petted her hair. She was my big girl. My strong girl. I won't ever let her go through what her mother had to go through. I will protect her.

I chuckled. "I didn't know you had already lost your virginity,"

She broke away from the hug and nudged my arm. She smiled with her cheeks coated with endless streams of tears. "You're making this awkward,"

"I know. But like- when?"

"DAD!"

"Aww come on! I'm the man who raised you. I deserve to know,"

"A year ago. To the same guy I punched,"

"Huh-"

"Just kidding dad. I was just a minor then. I remember your rules 'No intimacy with any gender before 18'" she mimicked my voice. "I lost it just a month ago,"

The mood was much lighter than what it was ten minutes ago. Even though we were talking about sex, none of us seemed to be bothered by it. We spent all our evening talking about various things which we kept from each other. I always made sure not to bring up what happened today. She would grow up and live a long, long life. Because I would make sure she doesn't cut again.

I was going to make her live happily ever after.

But oh how badly I failed!

#niall x yn #niall x reader #niall imagine #niall pics #nialler #niallhoran #solo niall #niall james horan #niall horan #angst #niall's daughter #cute niall #niall 1d #one direction #11 years of 1d

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saquashing · 3 years

Text

I Love You So

Wilbur’s heart thundered in his chest, slamming against his ribcage, making it next to impossible for him to focus on what Karl was saying. They were all signed onto the server, huddled around the deep red stage.

He had no qualms about singing, he had done it plenty of times on his own streams, that wasn’t what made him nervous. No, what made him nervous was the man in the other room, logging onto the server himself.

They were so close, yet so far. Wilbur wanted nothing more than to leave his bedroom and wrap him in his arms and watch a movie. But George said it was last minute, that Karl needed some support on his streams, and god Wilbur just wanted George’s friends to like him.

It was stupid, especially since none of their friends knew they were together, except Phil because, of course. They were both private, George especially, and he asked to keep it a secret until they knew they were serious. Wilbur agreed, all he wanted was for George to be happy.

But still, Wilbur found himself interacting with the ‘feral crew’ more and more. It wasn’t that he needed their approval, he didn’t give a fuck about what anyone thought about his relationship, that was between him and George. But what he did know, was that George loved his friends, and he spent most of his time talking to at least one of them. He wanted to be a part of all of George’s life, not just the hidden touches behind closed doors and turned off web-cams.

He appreciated how much George was willing to do for his friends. He never sang, not even in front of him, and yet he was still willing to come onto Karl’s karaoke stream so he wouldn’t have to scramble to find someone else.

The idea of George singing made Wilbur’s stomach pool with warmth and anticipation. He heard the overly high-pitched falsetto, but even that showed his proper control of breath and knowledge of rhythm. Wilbur would do just about anything to hear him sing, genuinely, with all of his heart.

As the stream progressed, Wilbur tried to make George feel as comfortable as possible, trying to build his courage enough for a small duet. What could he say? Wilbur was a theatre nerd at heart. He was the definition of a hopeless romantic or an ‘old soul’. There’s nothing he wanted more than to have a duet with the man he was falling helplessly in love with.

He had already slipped up on Quackity’s stream, so he knew he needed to be careful about how he interacted with him. Pink painted his cheeks as he remembered the “George, my boy,” that had come seemingly out of nowhere, based on a meme he had shown him that morning. He had to bite his lip to keep himself from groaning in embarrassment.

Sitting up straight, Wilbur cleared his throat, waiting for the current song to end before speaking, “I have a proposition,” He licked his lips, inhaling deeply as he tried to rid the uncertainty from his voice, “For George.”

At his name, George’s attention piqued, letting out a soft, “huh?”

That small action was enough to make Wilbur’s stomach explode in a kaleidoscope of butterflies, his lips pulling into a grin against his own volition. He could clearly picture George, slumped in his chair, knees to his chest and half asleep. It was incredibly endearing.

“We’re the only two European left in the call, yeah?” He asked, checking the VC, though he already knew they were, “Well, as a fellow brit, there is one song you won’t be able to say no to.”

He heard the smallest of grunts from George, making Wilbur’s grin increase ten-fold. They both knew where this was going, as Wilbur constantly tortured his boyfriend with the song.

“Are you a fan of The Killers?” Wilbur asked, fondness dripping from his voice like honey. Though he was usually confident, especially in their relationship, Wilbur found his voice cracking and his anxiety pulsing.

George giggled, and the now almost silent VC waited for his response. It had been clear they had been trying to get him to sing all night, but he remained stubborn and resilient.

“I- I don’t know about that,” George replied, his own anxiety remarkably clear in his tone. Wilbur frowned, George wasn’t shy by any means, always willing to reach out. He remembered the day of the vlog when he went up to random people asking for ‘dog content’. But in the quiet VC, he sounded genuinely distraught.

Okay, that was an exaggeration, but he did sound nervous. Wilbur’s smile melted into a frown, concern replacing his excitement. Karl was trying to convince him to sing, but the last thing Wilbur wanted was to make George uncomfortable. As much as he wanted to hear him sing, his boundaries came first.

“It’s okay,” Wilbur interrupted, trying, and failing, to keep the disappointment from clouding the conversation, “You don’t want to sing with me, that’s fine. I don’t want to pressure you.”

They eventually settled on Sapnap joining him and George. Wilbur hoped it made him feel more at ease.

The song progressed, and beneath George’s falsetto, he swore he could hear the slightest bit of effort. He was trying. Wilbur almost died from the overwhelming burst of affection then and there.

Soon, the stream ended, and they bid their goodbyes. Wilbur stood from his chair, grabbing his guitar and getting ready to put it away when his door opened, George stepping inside.

___

George had heard Wilbur’s voice many times before, in the mornings while he cooked, in the shower, hell, he played Your City Gave Me Asthma on repeat while he edited. But there was something about sitting in Wilbur’s apartment, in his hoodie, with his soft voice and giggles echoing through both the hallway and his headset.

It was extraordinary comforting, wrapping him like a blanket and suffocating him with his warmth. Though he wasn’t complaining.

He knew how much Wilbur appreciated the smaller things, the more intimate sides that George tended to not show anyone else. He wanted to sing in front of Wilbur, he really did, but it was like an invisible border in his head, keeping him from doing so. Like when he did, there was no going back, and their relationship would be real.

George wasn’t afraid of commitment, he swore he wasn’t, but he could feel himself growing more attached to Wilbur with each kiss. Quite frankly, he knew he was falling fast, and it terrified him.

If he let go of his boundaries, there was nothing stopping him from giving every little part of himself to Wilbur. It scared him more than anything.

He knew Wilbur would never hurt him, he was far too kind for that, always doing what he felt was best. He brought George food when he was busy editing. After streams he would pull him into his embrace, his head burrowing into the crook of his neck, kissing away all of his troubles and making him feel like he was the most important person in the world.

George swallowed thickly, bracing himself for karaoke. Karl’s original group had some scheduling issues, and he needed last-minute fill-ins, hence his and Wilbur’s appearances. He knew Karl wouldn’t pressure him to sing, he was excellent about respecting his boundaries when he asked, but with Wilbur in the call, the small, prideful part of him wanted to do something that would keep his attention on him.

The songs passed by quickly, each one building anticipation within him that he couldn’t seem to get rid of. That’s when Wilbur called him out, directly, asking him to duet.

He wanted to, man did he want to. But it wasn’t just them, or even just their friends, there were almost 200k people eager to clip it and ship it. He would never live it down.

“I- I don’t know about that,” His breath shuddered as he chewed on his fingernails, an anxious tic he picked up accidentally a few months prior and hadn’t been able to shake. Whenever Wilbur noticed, he always enveloped his hands in his own, before kissing his knuckles. George’s lips pulled into a small smile as he thought about it, his hands settling in his lap.

That small smile died, however, when he heard Wilbur’s very audible disappointment. It rang through George’s head, making its way down his chest and settling in his stomach like acid. He fought the urge to go straight to Wilbur and make it clear that it wasn’t him, and that he was just nervous.

He brought his hand back to his mouth.

The stream ended fairly quickly, it going by in a blur as George was lost in his head, drowning under the weight of his thoughts. The very idea of Wilbur being upset by something he did hurt him far more than he liked to admit. As soon as Karl hosted Sapnap, he shot off a message saying he couldn’t make it and went to Wilbur’s room.

Opening the door, he saw Wilbur leaning down to put his guitar away, raising his eyes when he heard the door open and giving him a warm smile. George inhaled sharply, speaking before he could talk himself out of it.

“Don’t put that away,” He said sharply, sitting on the foot of Wilbur’s bed, his fingertips padding against the soft fabric of his duvet. Wilbur raised an eyebrow, but he picked his guitar back up and sat back in his chair, waiting for George’s next instruction.

“Play the song,” He mumbled, cheeks growing hot. He would hate to see his reflection right then, as he knew that he probably resembled the complexion of a glass of Pinot Noir, “The one you always sing to me when you think I’m asleep.”

Wilbur’s mouth fell open, his own cheeks growing pink as he realized George heard his serenades in the darkness of his room. He cleared his throat, readjusting his hold on the guitar and softly strumming the first few notes.

George coughed slightly, licking his lips and looking at the floor, refusing to make eye contact, “I just need someone in my life to give it structure-” He sang softly, closing his eyes, “To handle all the selfish ways I spend my time without her.”

His voice picked up volume as he sang, and he didn’t miss the way Wilbur gasped as he continued, “-But I love you, so,” He continued, forcing his eyes open and raising them to meet Wilbur's, who seemed breathless.

George swore he could see tears pooling in Wilbur’s warm eyes, and soon he joined him, his voice soft, letting George’s take over.

His own eyes felt hot with unshed tears, his chest felt warm, and he tried to convey with every note just how much he meant the words he was singing, “- I love you, so,” his voice broke slightly as they sang the last line of the chorus. Wilbur let the note die in the air, before standing suddenly, laying his guitar against his desk as he moved closer to George.

Large hands wrapped around George’s head, thumbs rubbing soft circles on his cheeks, wiping away his stray tears. Wilbur was staring down at him like he was the most important thing in his life, like he was the sun and the moon and all the constellations in the night sky.

That’s when he finally leaned in and kissed him, his soft lips pressing against his own, moving together in tandem. The contact left George breathless, his own hands flying to the back of Wilbur’s head, fingertips running through his hair as he pulled him impossibly closer.

When they finally broke away, panting and gasping for breath, George leaned his head against Wilbur’s chest, listening to his heartbeat. Wilbur laid gentle kisses on the tops of his head, and for a moment, neither said a word.

Eventually, George looked back up, as nervous as he was, he needed Wilbur to know he was genuine, “I meant it,” he said, referring to the lyrics in the song’s chorus.

Wilbur smiled, running his hands over his back, his eyes shining with adoration George only dreamt of. He didn’t need George to tell him again, he knew.

“I did too.”

#Georgebur #georgenotfound #wilbur soot #songfic #kinda #2065 words #my writing #cross-posted on ao3 #ficlet #not edited #based of karaoke stream #i love you so - the walters

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