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#also now i can Eventually get that chest tattoo i wanted for like 7 years lmao

palbabor-writes · 3 years

Text

Latibule pt. ii

Pairing: Sakusa Kiyoomi x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, kinda heavy petting? we still going slow up in this ride, adult language, eventual SMUT, oh & Kiyoomi being a blunt asshole

Words: 12,880

His usual spot at the cafe is taken, and he’s already decided to keep walking on, but somehow, somehow, he manages to catch your eye.

His feet are slowing, a stuttering breath stagnating in his lungs, all at once hopeful and bewildered, but before he can examine his fluttering emotions, you’re alongside him on the noisy sidewalk, passing him his usual evening drink, a pleased smile on your soft lips.

Suddenly, the world smells like velvety pine and heady bergamot, and he can’t stop staring down at you.

Notes: me: try to keep it at 7,000 words, also me: what’s a word count?

i owe my life to @wickedfaerytale & @albinoburrito for their edits and suggestions on this monster. i love you both & appreciate you to the moon and back.

Latibule

pt. ii: Four Set

a high set to the strong side/outside hitter

[ pt. i: an opening ] ||

[ You: 4:35pm ]

Hey! It’s me– from the coffee shop. Wanted to see if you were busy this evening? Maybe we can meet up when I get off?

[ Sakusa: 5:02pm ]

I know. Sure.

[ You: 6:21pm ]

Great! I’m off at 9:30. Want to meet at the shop?

[ Sakusa: 7:10pm ]

Read at 7:10pm

“Is he coming?” Kane asks, following you out of the coffee shop and pausing under the shallow awning, twisting his head, watching your back as you turn the key in the door. You tug against the handle, testing the hold, your hands heavy against the cool metal.

“I don’t know,” you sigh, eyes peering into the darkened depths of the cafe lobby. “It says he read the last text, but he didn’t respond. He’s likely busy. I have no idea how long they practice; he’s a professional athlete, and after seeing that game...well, I can only imagine how intense his training schedule is. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone move like that before it was so fluid, like watching quicksilver.”

“Eh? Quicksilver? What is this, a poetry slam? Who describes people like that? Still, I bet he does, like, 20,000 sit-ups a day. You can tell, even under that baggy jacket, that he’s crazy fit,” Kane ruminates, leaning against one of the stacked sets of metal chairs. “Damn. It’s kinda crazy to think about, you know? You and a hot pro athlete going out on a date.”

You huff out a laugh and give him a playful scowl. “Ugh, shut up, you’re so rude, Kane. And I wouldn’t say it’s a ‘date.’ We just exchanged numbers. That’s all.”

“Oh? I’m sorry. You’re totally right. All those googly eyes must have happened with someone else. Definitely not you and that six-foot monster of a man. I mean, usually the guy just sits at his seat and ignores us, watching those videos on his computer and taking his notes, or he gets his coffee and is on his way, but today he was practically sitting on the hand off plane, and staring at you.

Don’t gimme that face! You know I’m right. And–awe, look at you! So bashful! Oooh, you like him, don’t you? That’s so cute! Come on (Y/N), that’s so––ow!”

“Didn’t you say you had a paper to write?” you grumble, shoving your knuckles against his shoulder again. “There was so much whining from you tonight. Way worse than usual. So many, ‘hurry up, (Y/N)! I need to get home. What if this makes me bomb my paper! What if I fail the class because of this?’ What happened to all that? Huh? Suddenly you’ve got time to suss’ me out on the sidewalk?”

“Yow! So touchy! And this is totally workplace harassment, ya’ know! Jeez, that’s a mean right hook you’ve got. You didn’t even warn me! Eee, I’m gonna be bruised tomorrow!”

“Oh, shut up. You completely deserved that. Now go away and go finish your paper, you soon to be fail––”

“You said 9:30, right?”

The sound of Sakusa’s low voice startles you and you spring away from Kane, head whipping around and eyes wide. He’s standing a few feet behind the two of you, his shoulders curved into their usual hunch, eyes dark behind his fringe of curls. Under his golden jacket, a crisp white shirt is stretched across his broad chest, the bottom tucked carefully into the front of his jeans, and his MSBY bag is hanging against his back. His onyx hair looks heavy and you can see some lingering moisture, no doubt from a recent shower, glistening against the raven waves.

“Hey!” you call, unable to bite back the elated grin that’s suddenly curving the edges of your lips. Kane is right about one thing, you think, stepping closer to Sakusa’s stiff form. This is kinda surreal. “We just finished closing up. Uh, this is Kane,” you wince, gesturing to the smirking face of your coworker.

Shit. Stop it. You sound like an idiot. He knows who Kane is. You’ve seen them talking at the register before, but the rambling introduction keeps tumbling out of you. “He works here. He’s usually at the register, he’s learning, um, the bar and–uh. I don’t know why I’m telling you this, you’ve seen him before, uh, probably...definitely...ha, but, er–”

“And that’s my cue,” Kane chuckles, shaking his head at your janky attempts to introduce him properly to a man that he’s known, in passing, for over a year. “Nice seeing you Sakusa-sama,” he bows, tossing you a cheeky wink from his polite curve, “you guys have fun.” And with that, he’s gone, leaving you and the impassive Sakusa alone on the empty street.

A hushed quiet falls over the two of you as you adjust the straps of your purse, eyes lowered. Stop freaking out, you chide yourself, taking a deep inhale of air into your lungs, fingers padding aimlessly over the leather slings of your bag. Just talk with him. It’s always easier when you ask the questions first, since he’s not much of a talker. So ask him about something he can answer.

Volleyball. Yeah, ask him about that. It’s not exactly a groundbreaking conversation starter, but it will work.

Strategy set, confidence mounting, you open your mouth.

“So, how did your practice–” “How was your day–”

He speaks when you do, and the two of you clatter directly into each other, words smattering into nothingness as you both fumble into an uneasy silence again.

Hopeless, you’re both hopeless. It’s kinda funny, in a horrifically awkward way.

“Uh,” you grin, eyes finally lifting to his. “You first?”

The gentle thud of his heart echoes against his ears and his breath is hot under the cover of his mask. You’re so close. If he wanted to, he could reach out and touch you, could drop his hand from his pocket and let it slip into yours again. That thought makes his palms feel itchy, and he scrapes his nails down the skin, easing the ache.

Not yet.

He watches you as you shake your head, a glowing smile breaking across your lips. You’re not just pretty, he thinks, unconsciously drifting closer, you’re captivating. It’s like you’re some kinda homing beacon.

He’s a cautious guy, always has been. But something about you makes him want to blindly reach, to be nearer to you.

“Practice was fine. Where did you want to go?” he murmurs, fingers lifting, tugging his mask down his face.

He wants to kiss you.

It’s been on his mind all day, through the training, through the practice games, hovering over him, shrouding him with the foggy remembrance of the pressure of your lips. He’d fucked your first one up and he wants to try again, to do better. But it’s different when you’re expecting it, when he can see your gaze following the downward pull of his hand, your eyes hooded and watchful as he reveals the lower portion of his face to you. When you bite your lip into your mouth, teeth pressing before slowly letting the plump flesh spring free again, he nearly groans aloud.

He wonders if you’ll let him do it, let him kiss you, and that thought makes him feel lightheaded. You’re so close––No, he gulps, jaw clenching and shoulders straightening, his back arching upward and right foot jerking a step, pulling away from your tempting openness. It’s too much, it’s too soon.

Just wait, he reminds himself, be patient. Not now, not yet.

You notice his shift and look up at him curiously, popping your weight onto your other leg, one hand braced against your hip, but you still smile up at him, acknowledging his unspoken cues for distance. “Well, I was going to see if you wanted to get a drink.”

“I don’t like bars,” he blurts.

Your eyes widen and you suck a sharp breath into your lungs, lips falling into a half-formed ‘oh.’

No. He didn’t mean it like––Damn it.

Kiyoomi flinches, nose wrinkling and mouth pulling into a thin line. He’s not good at this.

“Mm, well, this is less of a bar and more like a gastropub. It’s small, laid-back. Plus, it’s a Tuesday night, they’re gonna be slow, and if they’re not, we can leave and try something else...”

“It’s fine,” he rectifies sharply. Again, he sounds too harsh. “I don’t care about any of that. If it’s slow or not. If you want to go, we’ll go. I didn’t...I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“Don’t worry about it. Besides, I didn’t think it was rude.”

Kiyoomi jerks his chin up, his mouth pressing into a pursed frown, peering skeptically at you, eyes narrowed. You let out a laughed exhale and tilt your head, quickly shrugging your shoulders, attempting to mollify his mistrustful stare. “I mean it!” you insist, waving your hand. “I’ll take someone who’s blunt any day of the week. It’s exhausting trying to read people who are good at hiding behind smiles, or false facades. You always know where you stand when someone is straightforward. Seriously,” you continue, grinning up at his abashed expression, “it doesn’t bother me. Be yourself. Besides, I like it. It kinda makes me jealous…”

“Jealous?” Kiyoomi echoes, watching you step past him and down the darkened street. His heart is beating out that uneven tattoo again, and it feels like he can’t catch his breath. What do you mean, ‘you like his bluntness’? No one’s ever told him that. No one’s ever told him to ‘be himself’ either. And, as if that wasn’t enough for him to chew on, now you’re casually saying that you’re jealous of his unapologetic retorts. It doesn’t make any sense.

“Sure,” you nod, slowing your footfalls, letting him catch up with you as you stride down the sidewalk. “I always lean on the polite side of things, likely because I’ve spent too many years in customer service, haha. So it’s refreshing to hear someone just speak their mind. Besides, you don’t strike me as someone who’s careless with what they say to others; you’re candid, but careful, you just don’t mince your words. Nothing wrong with that. Anyway, I’m babbling, again. Looks like you kinda have that effect on me, huh?”

His lips quirk at your admission and he steps a little closer, the fabric of his jacket wicking across your clothed arm as he matches your pace. “Is it far?” he asks after a time, watching as the lights of the main street twinkle between the lumbering edges of the buildings.

“Not much farther. But you might wanna put your mask up, we’ll go past the cross street and that area is always a little busy this time of night.”

[ Damn. That’s––The fact that that thought would even cross your mind–– ]

His hand is out of his pocket before he can blink, seeking the soft warmth of your curled fingers, cupping over your knuckles as he heeds your advice with his other, tugging his mask up and pinching it securely over the bridge of his nose. He can feel your eyes on him, but he doesn’t pause, doesn’t look down. He likely should have asked. After all, he doesn’t know you that well. But you ease your digits against his, your thumb curling over the joint of his ring finger, and his lips twitch into a smile.

You greet the girl behind the hostess stand with a hug and a few other members of the staff walk up to the table that you select, big grins and booming voices calling out jovial ‘hello’s’ and ‘good to see you’s’.

“You come here a lot?” Kiyoomi inquires, slouching against the cushions of the booth, obsidian eyes peering around the space. The table is off to the side, tucked away from the hustle and bustle of the main dining area and bar, and is half covered by a glass wall that provides the two of you with an extra buffer of privacy. It’s an ideal spot, and he’s inwardly grateful that you’d chosen it.

“I used to work here,” you answer, lifting your purse onto your lap before fishing around for something within the depths of the leather. “I–ah! Here it is. I always lose stuff in here, it’s like a black hole, no matter how many times I organize it, it goes right back to being a mess. Price you pay when you have a big bag, I guess.” You lift a small bottle of hand sanitizer out and dollop some onto your palm. He blinks, following the rapid motions of your hands as you clean them off with the solution. That’s...nice. Nice feels like a strange word for this observation, but it’s true. You spy his gwaping expression and hold the bottle out, nodding your head at his coiled fingers. “Want some?”

“Thanks,” he rumbles, mimicking your motions as he eases the cold sanitizer against his chapped hands. “So you worked here?”

“Yeah! I did this and the coffee shop for a while. I was behind the bar, mostly. It was a good job, but when things picked up with my degree plan, I had to drop it.”

“Ah,” Kiyoomi hums, pulling his mask off and tucking it carefully into the pocket of his jacket. “That’s why you knew it wouldn’t be busy.”

“Yup! Tuesdays and Wednesdays are always slow. This is likely the busiest it will get. They have food here too, if you’re hungry. Got some good sushi and the agedashi tofu is one of the best in the city.”

“I already ate.” [ Shit. ]

“Ohh-kay. Well, I’m probably going to get something. They’ve got non-alcoholic drinks as well. Should be at the bottom of the menu.”

“I said I don’t like bars, not that I don’t drink.” [ Fuck. ]

“Fair enough,” you shrug, cocking your head at his clenched jaw and averted eyes. “You see anything you want?”

“Sorry,” Kiyoomi sighs, lifting the paper menu and scanning the side that lists the specials.

“I told you,” your voice is soft, and he glances up at you, glad to see that you’re still smiling happily at him, “I don’t mind. Tell you what, if you go too far I’ll let you know, sound good?” You stretch your hand toward him, bunching your fingers, except for your pinky, which is waiting, outstretched, and reaching toward him.

“What?” he asks, chin dipping and heavy brows furrowing as he eyes your hand suspiciously.

“Whaddya’ mean, ‘what?’ It’s a pinky promise. You’ve never done this before?”

“I’ve never done this before,” he deadpans, blinking slowly.

You guffaw and the burst of joyous sound makes him snicker too, his shoulders easing from that all too familiar hunch, his head ducking, the faint stain of a blush seeping over his cheeks. It’s just a laugh, he reasons, annoyed by his flushed skin and twitching fingers. Why is he getting worked up? He takes a second to refocus, but when he does, you’re still waiting for him, your pinky wiggling, blithely enticing him.

“It’s easy,” you promise. “You just hook your smallest finger with mine and we shake once on it and boom, that’s an unbreakable promise. And, well, if it kills you then I guess you’ll go down in a book of world records or something.”

Kiyoomi scoffs at your jab and lifts his arm onto the table, holding his pinky out, waiting for you to make the last move, rolling his eyes at your dramatically slow approach.

Your touch is gentle, finger ghosting over the middle joint of his pinky, curling slowly, teasingly, before it wraps around the width of his digit. Then you give him a quick squeeze, swiftly bobbing your joined fingers in a mock shake. It’s over in an instant, but you maintain the touch, gradually untwining your crooked digits. “Your fingers are long,” you observe, eyes catching his before traveling back to that lingering connection, distractedly easing your fingertip down the line of his hand and pausing against the base of his wrist.

It feels like his entire arm is electrified and a fine shiver of goose flesh breaks across his warm skin. His mouth is open, lips parted as he sucks in a shallow drag of air and he can’t stop staring, wholly enraptured by your flirtatious strokes. When your eyes rake upwards to playfully find his, that pleased smile soft against your lips, he thinks he might just lurch forward and grab you.

“There,” you beam before pulling away. “Now that that’s done, what are you gonna’ order?”

He lets you place your drink order first, saying he needs to keep looking, that it has been a while since he’s had a drink, and he’s never been all that sure of his preferences, anyway.

It’s an unexpected admission.

If there’s one thing that you’ve been relatively sure of, it’s that Sakusa is a man who doesn’t hesitate. In the two years that you’ve known him, granted from the other side of the counter of a coffee shop, he’s always known what he wants and is confident in his selections. He can rattle them off by rote, by flavor, by taste, by temperature, so seeing him this off balance, a little frazzled and out of his depth, is a bit of a surprise.

He’s not fidgety, his hands are resting placidly in his lap, feet evenly placed on the floor, but you can tell there’s an underlying thrum of agitation behind all those half ducked glances he keeps giving you, his obsidian eyes sharp, gleaming like flints each time they linger against you. He’d laughed once, before you’d squeezed his pinky with yours, and then promptly fallen back into that sullen silence, answering your questions with one word quips or hushed murmurs.

It made you feel guilty.

He said he hated bars, so maybe you should have taken that admission a little more seriously. But out of all the places the two of you could go, this late at night in downtown Osaka, you’d figured that this was likely the quietest, the one where he’d feel the most comfortable.

“So you’ve played with them for two years?” you ask, giving your server a quick thanks as they sit your drink down. “That’s impressive. But you said you went to school for four? That’s different. I bet most players skip college and go right for the pros, so why didn’t you do that?”

“Volleyball isn’t everything,” he answers, tone clipped, matter of fact, as he watches you take a sip of your drink, waiting for the clink of the ice and the gentle clatter of the glass as you set it back down on the table before he continues. “I’m not invincible. Someday I won’t be able to play. And it makes sense to have a backup, something that I can do later.”

You pop your chin into your upturned palm, lips resting against your curled fingers. “True. You’re very thorough, you know?”

Sakusa’s forehead creases, and those two perfectly stacked moles lower over his right eyebrow. “I like to do things properly, that’s all. It just feels right. To take things one step at a time. I do that with everything. I guess most see it as something repetitive, or monotonous, all those basic tasks that you do day in, day out, but I like it. And if you think of them as mindful tasks, rather than mindless, then you can get to that point where those little things become pleasure, instead of drudgery. I know that I’m not guaranteed anything, but, if I’m lucky, I’ll be able to go out, to leave volleyball, satisfied. Knowing I did my best.”

It sounds stupid to his ears, pompous, and as soon as he finishes his preamble, he lets out an inaudible sigh, teeth worrying against the soft flesh of the inside of his mouth. Damn it. Why did he say all that? What’s the point? You’d only asked him about college and here he is, rattling off his ideologies and distant thoughts. Why did he–

“That’s...that’s a cool way of looking at it.”

His jaw is gritted, his face covered by a sheen of impassive blankness. But he looks up when you say that. He wants to see you, even if it’s only to take in your bewildered amusement. But you’re not giving him some piteous smirk, no, you’re looking at him like he’s helped you solve a long awaited puzzle, and your face is filled with the softest, haziest glimmer of ardent happiness that he’s ever seen. Your smile broadens, and he looks away, fingers feeling blindly for the pulse in his lowered wrist.

His heart’s pounding.

How do you do that? Then, as he tries to steady his shaking breaths, you lean back, lifting your glass to your parted lips to take a quick sip, a distant look in your eyes.

“You know, I’ve never really thought about it that way, but you’re right. I always have so much trouble explaining that mindset to new hires. Like, how do you tell them that, yeah, while this seems like a stupid thing we have you do, to keep busy during the slow period of the day, it matters in the long run. Take our cleaning routines, if you don’t clean something, and clean it diligently, then the gunk and grime builds up, and it’s harder to get out later. Things harden, become set in their ways, and I guess the same thing can happen to the pros too. It seems like most don’t go to school. They just slip right into the sport–after all, if you’re good enough to make it onto a division ranked team right out of high school, then there you go, that’s your end goal, right?

But I like that you took the little steps, the ones that people ignore, or try to bypass. It’s another sort of preparedness, really. Others may not see it that way, might think of it as wasted time, but you did what felt right for you and I know it’ll pay off. It’s–oh! Sorry! I’m babbling again! Ha, God, I’m gonna stop, okay?”

“You don’t have to,” Kiyoomi utters, arms lifting from his lap, pressing against the smooth wood of the table, ignoring the racing of his heart. “I liked it. I’m glad that you...I liked it. Keep talking. I like hearing you talk. And, uh, can I try your drink? I know nothing about gin, or whiskey, or whatever that is. I usually just stick to beer and sake.”

You bite your lip, a soft chuckle falling between the two of you, and press two fingers bashfully against your nose, covering your giddy smile and pushing your drink forward, toward his open palms. “It’s kinda nice to know that I’m not the only one who’s flustered. Hmm, but here. If you don’t drink much, then you may not have had this before. Sorry if it’s strong. Also, I go for brown liquor, so it’s got rye for the base.”

“Rye’s a whiskey, right?” he asks, pushing the tiny black straw aside and taking a careful swig from the rim of the glass. It’s got a smooth flavor, almost like the caramel notes of his doppio con panna, but without that cloying sweetness that sometimes sits against the back of his tongue when he’s finished. Instead of the hum of sugar, there is only a shiver of bitterness and then the quick bite of the alcohol is gone, passing over his teeth and down his throat in a single gulp.

It’s good.

Better than he expected. And he passes the glass back, his fingers holding against the cool surface, waiting for yours. “I’ll get that,” he tells you, an impish smirk lifting his lips. “It’s perfect.”

After that-and a second round of drinks-the night went a little smoother. He did his best to not lapse into unsociable silences and you did just as he’d asked of you and kept talking.

You traded the basics, where you were born, talked about your family, your education, degrees, pets, and, slowly, the uncertainty simply faded away.

You were easy to talk with, impossibly so; always ready with another question, a congenial quip, or an antidote about your own life. Soon he was regaling you about his cousin, Motoya, the latest antics of his teammates, his hopes for the upcoming season, for the 2021 Olympics, for anything that he could think of, anything to keep you in that seat, to keep you chatting with him for just a little longer.

[ It’s late, but that doesn’t matter. Keep talking, ask her something else. ]

Is it supposed to feel like this?

He’s never really had a relationship; not when he was in high school or college, and any of his half-formed attractions always fizzled out before they ever really started. He was too busy, too one track minded to notice, [ to care ] to find the time [ to make the time. ]

It’s certainly not love, [ Tch. Love at first sight, who believes in stuff like that anyway, this isn’t some movie, plus he’s known you for years, so it’s not first sight either ] not yet, but there’s another feeling that’s laced within this humming excitement that keeps bubbling to the surface, that has him hanging onto every word that passes from your lips.

It’s want.

He wants more, greedily so, and he hasn’t experienced that feeling, outside of volleyball, in a long time.

“I’m not too far from here. I’ll just hop on the train and then be back in my district. Easy-peasy.”

Sakusa nods at your jovial reassurances, hoisting his track bag higher against his shoulder, following you toward the lights of the street. It’s late, later than he’s used to, and his eyes feel heavy. The lull of the alcohol isn’t helping either, so he shuffles closer, bumping unevenly against you every few steps. You twist your head toward him, a faint smile on your lips, eyeing his lumbering form skeptically. “Sure I don’t need to walk you to your station, Sakusa? You look dead on your feet. Sorry I kept you out so late.”

“You didn’t,” he sighs, his words rasping past a yawn. “I wanted to stay. I’ll regret it tomorrow. For now, I’m fine.”

“Pfft, okay, well, I’ll look forward to receiving your annoyed text about me keeping you out past your bedtime in the morning then.”

Huh? Text? You want him to text you in the morning? Can he do that? Be the first person you think of when your notification lights up your dark screen, the first one that you reply to. Shit. What–what does that mean?

Sakusa slows, his hand reaching for you.

He misses your arm and snags your purse instead, jerking the straps, and by association you, a little harder than he intended. [ Damn it. His coordination’s off. ] You stumble backwards, shoulders bracing against his broad chest, and you blink up at him. You lift your face, looking at him curiously. He’s already peering down, and the glow of the distant street-lamps makes the onyx of his irises morph from jet to a rich blue. For a long breath both of you simply stare, content to watch the other, waiting for some kind of advancement in this stalemate.

You cave first. “Um, you alright?”

“What are we?” he asks pointedly, large palms running up the sides of your arms, his head tilting, dropping raven curls over his brow.

“Friends?” you reply, but it feels more like a question than an answer and you let the word hang, unsure what else you can say, what else he wants to hear. You feel a bated breath leave his lungs. It dips you back as his chest falls, slipping you minutely closer even as his hands droop limply from the curve of your shoulders. His eyes shift from yours and his lips fade into a thin line as he steps away, letting you slip from his grasp. The air between you changes, hardening back into that early uncertainty, and by the time you turn to face him fully, his hands are re-tucked into his pockets and his slouch has returned.

“What’s wrong?”

You know, but you don’t want to assume. You’d warned him after all; you’re not good at being blunt.

He gives you a frank stare, dark brows creasing, furrowing his expression. “Friends means I can’t kiss you.”

For a moment you can’t feel your heart. You know it’s beating, still diligently pumping blood through your body, but as that declaration leaves his lips it’s like your entire world has narrowed. He wants to...how can he just say that? Just blurt out whatever comes into his head and not care what happens after. Where do you find confidence like that?

You flash your gaze upward and he’s still looking at you, his unmasked face open as he stares, dark eyes watchful, half veiled behind his lashes.

He waits. He’s good at that, you think, feeling a smile creep across your face as your tongue passes over the swell of your lower lip. He instantly tracks the movement and takes a shallow step forward. You can hear his fingers coiling and uncoiling inside of the slick lining of his pockets, but that simple, near silent admission of his nervousness makes up your mind.

“Well,” you begin, eyes lowering, easing closer, pressing until you can almost feel the heat of him against you. Your hands lift tentatively, passing over the flat, honed planes of his chest until they come to rest against the top of his stomach. His nostrils flare at the tempered stroke but the rest of him remains stock still, wholly rooted to the spot, listening, observing, a glimmer of distant hope cresting against the back of his mind.

[ Yes. Keep going. Don’t stop. ]

Then, those final, all important words are leaving you, cast into the air.

“I wouldn’t say that.”

Before you can look up at him, his hands are hovering beside your ears, the ghost of his touch urging you upward as he lowers himself over you.

His lips meet yours with a gentle tap and you can feel his unsteady exhale pass over your mouth as he allows himself to linger against you. It’s more like a press than a proper kiss, but you indulge him, gripping your impatient hands against the thin material of his jacket, giving him time to adjust. He’s featherlight, his lips scratchy, but the lubrication that your swiped tongue has left behind eases the touch and he gasps when you lift to meet him, your lips gliding over his.

Then he’s wavering; like he can’t decide.

He shifts away, only to return moments later, lips never fully leaving yours, caressing until you’re doggedly chasing after him, a poorly concealed groan slipping from your throat. He hums appreciatively at your enthusiasm and steps impossibly closer, his fingertips tapping under your jaw and down your neck.

On one of his shuddering pulls you slip your tongue over his lips, tracing the seam, wordlessly asking for him to deepen the kiss. The sound he makes in return is garbled, caught against his throat and lost in the shuffle of his hands, his breath, his want.

His arms are like steel cables as they twine around your waist, holding you to him as he finally opens, his teeth clattering against yours in his rush. You smile against his eagerness and pop onto the tips of your toes, hands releasing his jacket, sliding up his face before you let your fingers coil into his obsidian curls, your teeth nipping against his dampened lip. He lets out another hushed gasp, the flat of his palm warm against your shoulder blades as he urges you upward.

“You’re — mmm, you’re too tall, Sakusa,” you complain, finally easing away from his greedy kisses, and grinning when he follows.

“Kiyoomi,” he insists, hands cupping, thumbs tracing the edge of your jaw, dropping another kiss against your upturned lips. “Call me that. I want to hear it.”

You laugh and he huffs impatiently against you, brows folding into that deep crease. “Not joking,” he grumbles, lips and breath hot against yours, “I want to hear you say it.”

When you manage, at long last, to pull away from him again, your eyes bright, lips kiss shined and swollen, he knows this image of you will be etched into his mind for weeks to come. It’s perfect [ you’re perfect ] and all he can think about is that he wants so much more.

“Kiyoomi,” you call, head canted at his staggered expression, eyes glittering with fond amusement. “You’re kinda bossy, aren’t you?”

He scowls at your question and tugs you back, kissing you until your laugh fades away and his name comes a little easier.

[ You: 9:18am ]

You sure you want to go there? I don’t care if we do something else instead, your call.

[ Kiyoomi: 10:54am ]

Got the tickets. See you after your shift.

“Bringing your phone onto the court–ballsy move Omi,” Atsumu leers, dropping his bag beside Kiyoomi’s, a troublesome smirk on his face.

“Shut up,” Kiyoomi snaps, darkening the screen with a click and placing the device beside his trainers. “At least I know how to keep it hidden. And you’re the reason we’re banned from bringing them out here at all. You and your stupid snapchat stories.”

“Omi! Ya’ big jerk! Be quiet, ya’ know yer’ not supposed to mention that app where the coaches can–”

“Miya!” a booming voice calls from across the gym, “You better not be doing what I think you’re doing! If I catch you on that phone, you can expect to do a hundred serves at the end of this practice match! Got it?”

Kiyoomi scoffs, a lackadaisical grin ghosting over his lips as he neatly dodges Atsumu’s elbowed jab. “See? I’m not the problem here.”

“Such a jackass. It’s a miracle (Y/N) is even giving you the time of day.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kiyoomi bristles, heavy brows creasing.

“Means I don’t know what she sees in ya,’ you big dummy. Where you taking her this week?”

“Why do you care?”

“Damn it. Why do I bother? I mean really, am I some kinda masochistic or something? Yer’ terrible to talk with, but here I am, attempting some harmless small-talk. Cut a guy some slack, would ya’?”

“What are you talking about?” Kiyoomi stares, onyx eyes narrowing at Atusmu’s haggard expression.

“You! I’m just trying to have a conversation, you know, checking in, seeing how yer’ doing. Making sure you haven’t screwed things up yet. Ya’ know, being polite!” Atsumu glowers, golden hair falling over one umber eye as he flashes Kiyoomi a fixed glare.

“What would I screw up?”

Atsumu lets out a heavy sigh and shakes his head. “Tell you what, ask me that question again when you do, how’s that sound?”

“Miya–”

“Bringing your phone to practice, coming in late, or right before things kick off, yeah, you got it bad, don’t cha’? You better watch yer’self Omi.”

“The hell you talking about?” Kiyoomi sneers, chin lowering, steeling himself for one of Atsumu’s long-winded tangents.

“God, yer’ so dense, especially with shit that’s not volleyball. Come on, Omi, use your head. The coaches, the managers, they’re all gonna try and make you pick. That’s what they do. She’s a nice girl, and I’d hate to see her get caught up in all of that bullshit. Stop gaping at me like that! Like I’m not making any sense! I’m trying to look out for ya’! Not that you deserve it, being such a prickly asshole, and all...”

Kiyoomi sighs, lips pursing into a sharp point, his shoulders slumping forward, arms hanging limply against his sides. Fine, he’ll engage. Whatever. If it’ll get Atsumu to explain whatever the hell he’s talking about before the practice match, he reasons, then it’ll be worth it. “We’re going to the museum in Tennoji Park.”

Atsumu stares. “Damn. You agreed to go to a public park? In the daytime? That’s real big, if true.”

“I’ll serve every ball directly at the back of your head, don’t think I won’t.”

“Alright, alright,” the setter laughs, propping his hands against his hips. “Shocked yer’ not just staying close to that one restaurant. You seem like a, ‘this is what I like and I’m sticking to it’ kinda guy. Not one to branch out. You know, boring.”

“How do you know about the restaurant?”

“She told me about it?”

Kiyoomi curls his lip over his teeth. “When did she do that?”

“The other day, went by for a coffee.”

“Ugh,” he huffs, swinging one arm across his chest, stretching out the muscles of his biceps. “What else did she say?”

Atsumu grins, bracing his forearm against Kiyoomi’s shoulder, waggling his brows mischievously. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Fine. I’ll just ask her.”

“Ughhh, zero fun. That’s what you are. Tell me, ya’ got a mode that’s not: ‘Sakusa Kiyoomi, ‘the world’s most boring man’,” Atsumu groans, head dropping as he lets his body hang limply off of Kiyoomi’s stiffened form.

“Shut up. What we do isn’t your business anyway, so enough with the questions. You’re just poking your nose in shit that doesn’t concern you,” Kiyoomi accuses, shrugging Atsumu’s heavy arm off of his, glaring.

Atsumu straightens, a quiet scoff puffing between his smirked lips. “Fine. So touchy today. And you think this crap ain’t gonna bleed into your playing? Yer’ way–”

“Line up!” the assistant coach booms, silencing Atsumu’s bristled retort. Kiyoomi opts to hold his tongue, letting the setter pace away from him, eyes narrowing while sucking in a steadying breath before he follows.

Damn it. He got so caught up in––Atsumu never told him what he meant.

It’s early afternoon and the broad concrete pathways of the park are mostly empty. The spring flowers are in bloom and the ginkgo trees sway in the crisp breeze that dips in from the sea. It’s a beautiful day, but Kiyoomi can’t shake himself out of his head.

He’d stared dutifully at the portraits in the museum, read the placards that rested below the painted screens and pottery, and listened when you asked him questions, or answered his own. He shouldn’t be like this, he fumes, adjusting the ear straps of his mask as the two of you step out into the bright sunlight once more.

Who cares what Atsumu was trying to imply. It was vague and unhelpful; likely meant to get under his skin, something that–

“You alright?” Your voice shakes him out of his thoughts and he looks down at you, brows unknotting, eyes softening as they rake over your curious face.

“Yeah. Miya said something at practice that I’m having trouble forgetting.”

“Oh? What?”

He tells you, and it feels like some of the tension leaves his shoulders. It’s nice.

Usually he’s guarded, quiet. Sure, he’ll let others know what he’s thinking with little finesse, but that doesn’t mean they know the truth of what’s on his mind. This is different. With you it’s easy to disassemble, unexpectedly so. It’s only been a month since the two of you started seeing each other, but in that time he’s opened up more to you than he has to anyone, outside of his family, and he’s still not sure if he likes that.

[ That’s a lie. He likes it; he does. He’s just not used to it. ]

“Make you pick?” you ask, skimming your hand over the red railing of the bridge, head cocked thoughtfully to the side. “He actually said that?”

“Mentioned it. Like I said, Miya talks in circles. I usually just tune him out, but this felt...different.”

“Hmm,” you ponder, easily keeping up with his long strides, your body close to his. “Well, maybe he means they, the coaches that is, don’t want you to be distracted? I could see that. I mean, you are playing at an extremely high level and next year is the Olympics. Damn, it feels strange to say that. I know someone who’s playing in the Olympics…”

“I know that. And I’m not distracted,” his tone is clipped and his chin ducks, his side swept curls fanning over his left eye.

You look over at his tensed expression and puff out an exhale of air. “Well, maybe he’s just messing with you? You said he likes to do that.”

“Told you, this felt different.” The words are sharp, punctuated by his clenched jaw and the forward roll of his shoulders, and you suck your teeth softly, staring across the shimmering surface of the pond as the two of you cross the last stretch of the bridge. You’re on the back foot here, a little unsure of how to reassure him, but you can tell he wants to shake this off, so you press the issue, hoping it’ll help ease that stiff tension that’s building in his shoulders.

“Okay, it felt different. How so?”

The words come without hesitation. [ This isn’t normal for him, but it’s also so damn nice to know that he can be this comfortable with someone. ] “Miya usually babbles. Goes on and on about the most inane things. But he also loves to chatter about his reasoning, and this time he didn’t. Instead of answering my question, he gave me that shitty smirk and changed the subject to something he knew would distract me––why else would he say he’d gone by the coffee shop?”

“I mean, I don’t know him as well as you do, but he seems like the kinda guy who likes to provoke–to see if he can get a reaction out of you and...I know it’s not much of a reason, but maybe that’s all that it was?”

Kiyoomi gives you a curt nod and picks up his pace, his hands coiling into clenched fists within the confines of his pockets. You follow him, unsure if you should strike up another line of conversation or let him simmer for a bit. You opt for the latter and turn your attention to the scenery of the parklands, quietly studying the picnicking couples and laughing clusters of children that jostle beside a nearby set of monkey bars. No matter his mood, it’s a lovely day and you’re still glad he’d agreed to come with you to the park.

But when the trail reaches the main street, you pause. “Hey, you wanna call it a day?” you ask, a soft smile on your lips. If he needs time, you rationalize, then you can give him that.

Kiyoomi jerks to a stop, his heavy brows furrowing as he stares down at you. “What? No,” he grumbles, voice muffled by the fabric of his mask.

You raise your hands in a gesture of supplication, palms facing his looming form. “It’s just...you seem like you’re upset...”

“I am upset,” Kiyoomi answers frankly, his breath heavy.

His honesty never fails to catch you off balance, and you laugh cheerfully at his stoic expression. Kiyoomi promptly fixes you with a perturbed stare, his eyes narrowing. “Kiyoomi, if you’re upset, then we should head back. You don’t have to stick around me if you want space, I totally–– ”

“I don’t want space. I want to be here, with you,” he bites, stepping closer, watching as your grin fades into a perplexed gape.

For a breath you’re flabbergasted, lips parted, eyes wide, but with a shake of head you step forward, your arm twining with his, and dipped forehead pressing against the sleek material of his jacket. “Alright, then stay with me,” you smile, hands squeezing against his coiled muscles, a pleased warmth spreading up your joined arms before flowing downward, into the pit of your stomach.

The contact, as muted as it is by the shell of his track jacket, makes him shiver and he can feel the thump of his heart speed up. It presses against his ribs and makes his chest feel tight and his head light, and when your fingers slip into the warmth of his pocket, your smooth digits tracing the knuckles of his hand, he lets out a contented sigh before lightly brushing his chin over the top of your bent head.

“Come on,” he murmurs, the rich tone of his deep voice dampened by the stretch of his mask, but you can still hear the creep of his smile within the clipped words, “I’ve got an idea.”

You’ve walked past the training facility plenty of times, so many that it’s a blip on your radar now, its jagged silhouette falling into the category of mundane, but never, not in a million years, did you ever see yourself actually passing through those glass doors.

It’s a massive space.

The blazing down-lights scatter brightness over the finely polished elastic flooring. You’d worn comfortable shoes to the park, but they still scuff loudly against the unfamiliar material so you stop gawping and look toward Kiyoomi’s arched shoulders.

“Uh, are you sure we can be in here?” you ask, trying to keep your voice down, but it reverberates around the vast space and you wrinkle your nose at the sharpness of the sound.

“Yes. I work here,” Kiyoomi answers simply, tugging his mask down and stopping just short of one of the white lines, cocking his dark head at your question.

“Okay,” you snicker, rolling your eyes playfully at his static features, “let me rephrase that, are you sure I can be here?”

“Why would you being here be a problem? Practice is done for the day. It’ll be fine. Worst case, Bokuto or Miya might show,” he replies, shrugging his shoulders, a faint smile passing over his lips. “So what do you say, you wanna try to play?”

A full-throated laugh bubbles out of you, and you shake your head frantically. “No way! You’ll either kill me with one of those terrifying spikes, or be bored out of your mind trying to teach me the ropes. Besides, I haven’t played volleyball since middle school, and even then, I’m, uh, not sure a quick rotation in a 40 minute P.E. class counts as playing. It was more like all of us kids screwing around and testing out how many times we could annoy our teacher.”

He snorts at your explanation and strides over to a dark red cart, digging one of his long arms into the depths before straightening and returning with a yellow and blue Mikasa ball that’s perfectly balanced within his broad palm. “Humor me,” he smirks, one brow quirking upward.

“Tch, I’m not wearing the right clothes...or shoes,” you bemoan jovially, but you’re already letting your purse slip from your shoulders.

“So whiny,” Kiyoomi tuts, stepping away from the cart and tossing the ball rapidly between his spread hands. “That doesn’t matter. Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you.”

“Oh, you will, will you?” you tease, a beguiling smile lifting your lips. He looks so good in here, you think, admiring the flex and bounce of his hands, the lean coil of his powerful neck that peeks from underneath his track jacket, so different from the stoic man who walked beside you in the park.

As soon as he touched the ball, his entire demeanor changed. Within the space of a few seconds he’d gone from hunched and brooding to dauntless and firm, all of his early agitation and uncertainty forgotten as he slipped into the comfort of his element.

“All right, coach,” you sigh with mock dejection, “where do you want me?”

“On the other side of the net. See that line? The first one past the netting? That’s the attack line. Stand there.”

He’s clear-cut in his instruction, telling you where to plant your feet and how to stand with the correct form. You listen intently, nodding or asking one or two clarifying questions, and he’s patient with your queries, answering you swiftly and thoroughly, obsidian eyes keen as they follow your movements across the net.

“Alright, that looks good. We’re going to do a simple drill, the catch and throw. Don’t worry about setting the ball, or receiving it with your arms, see how it feels to position yourself under it, just make sure it never gets behind you, and catch it with both hands and toss it back to me. Try and keep it in an easy arc.”

You blink at him, pulling your lips into an exaggerated frown. “Just catch it? That sounds too easy…”

“It’s meant to be. It teaches you how to see the ball. If you’re wanting something harder, I can always up the speed as you get better at it. Now, you ready?”

You nod and the ball lifts from his fingers in a flash, gliding over the net cleanly, and you shift back, arms outstretched, feet planted firmly against the slick flooring. You catch it neatly and mimic his overhand toss, sending it back to Kiyoomi’s half crouched form. But the arc isn’t controlled and the ball paps against the tape of the net, screwing up the trajectory and sending it shuddering toward the gym floor.

“Shit,” you curse, wincing at your clumsy return, but he’s already moving, his form a blur. He slides under it easily, back curved under his well-muscled legs, all ten fingers spread, as he neatly catches the ball, sending it prettily back to your side.

You’re so mesmerized by the fluidity of his supple form that you completely ignore the returning ball and it slaps against the floor with a crack. Always the professional, he’s intently watching the ball’s trajectory and doesn’t notice your open stare at first, but once his dark eyes flash back to yours a faint blush seeps across the well-cut apples of his cheeks and he ducks his head, obscuring his flush with a cascade of onyx curls. “That’s one point for me,” he sighs, his voice low, tone gruffly catching over the words as he studiously avoids your awed expression.

“Points?” you repeat dumbly, snapping your mouth closed before popping your hands on your hips, forcing yourself out of your stupor. “Hey! You didn’t say anything about points.”

“It’s a game,” he counters with a shrug of his broad shoulders, “of course there’s gonna be points.”

“Pfft,” you chortle as you walk toward the discarded volleyball. “What happened to this is just a drill?”

Thirty minutes later your hands are aching and you move sluggishly as your feet squeak over the polished flooring of the court. Kiyoomi, on the other hand, looks perfectly at ease, his eyes hungrily stalking the track of the ball as it flies to his side of the court. When you miss the next lightning quick toss that he sends your way, you drop your head and lift your hands, palms flattened and facing toward him, signaling your defeat as a heaving exhale leaves your straining lungs. “I think that’s it for me. I’m about to collapse onto the floor, like seriously. This is not a joke.”

Kiyoomi huffs out a bemused laugh and ducks under the netting, pausing beside your half crouched figure. He peers down at you through the lazy waves of his hair. You look staggered from the constant shuffling and overhand tosses, but you smile up at him and he can’t help but return it.

“I may be down for the count, but it looks like you wanna keep going,” you say coyly, eyes shining under the brilliance of the lights. [ You’re so pretty ] He [ wants to kiss you again ] sucks in a shallow breath and mutely nods at your assessment. [ Don’t go. ]

“Well,” you begin, lips falling into a thoughtful pout, arms twisting behind your back, “In that case, I’ve got some things that I need to finish up, anyway.”

[ No. Don’t go. Not yet. ]

“I left my laptop at the cafe, so I’ll head that way. Maybe I can see you–”

“Use mine.” The words leave him with a sigh, his voice hushed, but you hear him and your head whips up.

“What–I’m sorry, what?”

“Use my laptop. It’s here, in my locker.” [ Should he have said, please? He’ll say it, if that will get you to stay a little longer. ]

“You don’t...that’s not necessary–– ”

“I know. I want to,” he closes the distance between the two of you, his hand ghosting up the line of your arm. “Stay. If you want to.”

You contemplate his request, tapping a finger against your bottom lip, the flicker of a grin catching at the corners of your mouth. Finally, you nod.

[ Good. ]

He can feel his pulse against his eardrums and he feels jittery now but through that excited haze he tells you he’s going to change into his gym clothes and grab it, that there’s an outlet under the scorer’s table that sits at the edge of the court, and that he’ll be right back. He’s not sure why he feels the need to elaborate, that’s not like him, but he’s doing a lot of things that don’t feel like him these days.

He likes you; he thinks as he steps toward the double doors that will take him into the locker room.

He likes you so much.

When he returns, he’s wearing a dark pair of shorts and a bright yellow shirt emblazoned with the words Itachiyama VBC across his left pectoral. The laptop is propped under his muscled arm and he walks slowly toward you, dark eyes watching you thoughtfully. But you’re not meeting his gaze. No, your regard falls to the curve of his calves and the sharp jut of his ankles before you track back up to his thighs and linger over the ripple and pull of the corded brawn that peeks from under the line of his shorts, and it takes him clearing his throat to lure your eyes back up to his burning face.

You’ve seen him in his MSBY uniform, and you’ve seen him in various outfits over the last month, but the way you’re watching him right now makes his skin prickle and the air around the two of you feels charged, like the smallest push could create some kind of reaction.

He pauses beside the table and waits for you to sit before he leans down, one leg shaking restlessly under him as he clacks his passcode across the black keys. He’s lifting his right hand to click ‘enter,’ when you cup your hand under his jaw.

Kiyoomi quavers under your touch, a low shiver slipping up his spine as he twists to face you, his heavy brows arched and onyx eyes wide. He’s perfectly level with you and so close he can faintly smell your lavender shampoo. It’s a nice scent, lulling and woodsy and he wants to shift closer, but before he can act on his instinct you’re already leaning upwards and using your fingertips to dip his head forward, your lips pressing a chaste kiss against his topmost mole, breath warm against his heated skin.

“Thank you,” you purr, delicately resting the tip of your nose against his curled hair.

It feels like his body is sputtering to a halt, his arms heavy, his head desperately following your touch as you shift back, a half groaned sigh tight against his split lips. His fingers are twitching against the cool surface of the table and he knows he must look like an absolute idiot when he lifts his eyes back to yours, but he doesn’t care.

He’s glad you’re going to stay.

“Question for you,” you ask from your perch on the scorer’s table, your fingers flying over the computer keys as you clatter out another email. “How the hell do your hands do that?”

Kiyoomi smirks at your curious amusement and flips his wrists deftly upwards, easing onto his haunches, flicking his fingers out and rolling his newly stretched wrists as he finishes his final cool down routine. “It’s called joint hyper-mobility. Most lose it when they get older, I’ve been lucky.”

The two of you have been at the training facility for hours. You’d dutifully finished up some last-minute work enquiries and partially outlined the basics for your upcoming grant proposal, while Kiyoomi worked on his spin rotation and spikes.

You’d watched him intermittently, teeth plucking at the swell of your lower lip each time he lept into the air for a jump serve, or dropped low to the ground as he dug another ball up from his hit to the nearby wall, so you’d noticed when he’d finished his first water bottle. He’d set the plastic down, the tap ringing hollowly over the quiet gym, and rose from your folding chair, making your way over, already asking him where a water station was.

When you’d returned, passing the newly filled bottle back to him, your fingers stroked up his arm and swirled faint patterns against his clammy skin as he steadied the plastic in his grasp. And later, when you’d refilled his second water bottle, you’d pushed some of his raven waves back, lifting onto the balls of your feet to tuck the dampened strands behind the shell of his ear.

He was a sweaty mess, but that didn’t bother you.

Usually he didn’t like for others to touch him when he was like this. Something about the sheen and prickle of the salty perspiration bothered him, [ disgusted him ] so he actively shunned his teammates when they sought high fives during a game, but this was different.

The instant your fingers alighted against his skin he’d felt a jolting lurch of electricity, but instead of pulling from it, he’d leaned into it, draping his broad palm over your tracing digits, or resting his warm cheek against your open hand, eyes half lidded as they watched for your reaction.

He liked this.

“Hey, Kiyoomi? Uh, hello, Earth to Kiyoomi! You listening?”

The sound of your voice jerks him from his musings, and he glances at you. “Hmm?”

“I said, how do you feel about a low-key dinner?”

“I’d prefer it,” Kiyoomi replies, easing from his haunches to his feet, rolling his long arms over his head as he stands.

“Yeah, but I mean...low-key, low-key.”

He fixes you with a flat stare, his face falling into that well practiced blankness, obsidian eyes dimmed. “What does that mean?”

“Well, I’ve got some things that I’ve been meaning to cook and, uh, I guess what I’m trying to say is...did you want to maybe have dinner at my apartment? I know you’re picky about how your food is prepared, so if you wanna go out instead, that’s fine too. I won’t be offended. I just wanted to– ”

“I’d like that, but...can you cook?” he rumbles, a teasing smile coiling against his lips.

“Oh, I see. No, you got me. Totally can’t. I just wanted to know if you’d suffer through burnt rice, and then lie and tell me you’d liked it, or some shit,” you threaten, sticking your tongue out and scrunching your face at his blatant leer.

“Don’t worry, I’d definitely tell you.”

“Pfft. You’re the worst, you know that? Now go shower. If we wait too long, we’ll hit rush hour at the station and I bet that’s pretty high on your list of things to avoid at all costs.”

Your apartment is small.

Well, compared to his. But his place is an empty shell, brittle, almost sterile in its vacant emptiness. He’s not there often, so why fill it with more than the bare essentials? It’s got what he needs, and he’s never been bothered by the Spartan coldness of the tiles and dark wood, that is, until he steps into your space.

There’s so much color.

The living room is blanketed in a mix of cheery yellows, warm reds, and deep purples. It’s not displeasing, but it makes him pause within the confines of the genkan, onyx eyes wide under his raised brows. It’s a difference. Now there’s an unexpected worry that’s pricking at the front of his mind.

“You coming?” you ask, poking your head around the cut of the wall that divides your living room from your kitchen, peering curiously at his tense expression.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, easing his trainers off of his feet. This place reminds him that there’s still so much about you he doesn’t know.

So, to alleviate himself from his lingering trepidations, he peers curiously around the apartment.

Most of your furniture is Western. And while there is a traditional chabudai beside your kitchen and a familiar kotatsu that rests beneath the glass doors of your balcony, the rest of the room is decorated with cushioned couches, stiff-backed chairs, neatly organized shelving units, a large tv and stand, and several side tables that hold a mixture of lamps, artfully stacked books, picture frames and candles.

He’s still gazing over the plethora of things when you appear beside his elbow. “I’m going to shower. Make yourself at home. The remote for the tv should be on the kotatsu. You alright with soba stir fry and okonomiyaki for dinner? It’s easy, well, quick...”

“That’s fine,” Kiyoomi breathes, voice muted as his eyes rake over one of your bookshelves. “You could have taken one at the gym, you know...a shower.”

“Oh-ho, sure! Like a shower at your gym doesn’t come with the awful possibility that one of your teammates or, god forbid, coaches could have walked in. Yeah, no thanks,” you chuckle, shaking your head as you pad over to the small hallway that separates your kitchen and living space from the rest of your apartment. “I won’t be long. Please do not rob me, kay’?”

Kiyoomi blatantly scoffs at your remark but doesn’t look up until he hears the click of your bathroom door. Instantly, his feet carry him toward your collection of books and miscellany, one long finger tracing up paper spines. He will not miss this opportunity.

He’s curious, ravenously so.

There are small bowls that are filled with a mismatch of silver and gold jewelry, peeling bound novels with English titles printed down their spines, and asymmetric jars that carry the weight of seashells that gleam translucent and bright against the dimming sunlight.

Beaming smiles radiate from your collection of pictures. Some are snapshots of you and others who look enough like you he assumes they must be your family, while other images are older, with people dressed in vintage clothing, the photos sheened in dull greys and time blown sepia rather than vibrant, modern colors.

Then there are the books. The room is littered with them. Most are organized within the confines of the shelves, but a few are stacked on the kotatsu and he flips open one cover, eyes scanning the orderly lines of Japanese that dart down the pages.

There’s just so much here, so many little pieces of you that are scattered about, and he wants to see...no, he wants to ask you about all of it.

Dazed, he leaves the open space of the living room and steps toward the kitchen. It’s less cluttered in here, and he can smell the faint tang of bleach and lemon as he moves onto the dark tiles. Clearly, the fastidious habits you’ve displayed at the cafe are ingrained into your daily routines.

Cleanliness and routine. You’ll always have that in common.

His roving observations falter at your fridge. It’s covered in a scattered array of playful magnets, pinning down lists and newer Polaroids and he steps closer, index finger extended once more as he glides the digit down the faded ink and shine of the photos. Resting atop one of the larger check-lists is a crisp slip of cardstock. It’s clearly been given pride of place and Kiyoomi curves himself downward, somber brows wrinkling as he reads the print.

The departments of Anthropology, History, Languages, and Education invite you to attend:

The Deans Meeting

10th Annual Conference & New Faculty Welcome Event

Thursday, April 23rd

6:30 - 9:30 p.m.

Graduate School of Human Sciences, Osaka University

(Number Attending: ____ *limit of one guest per invitee)

Kiyoomi straightens, raking a hand up through his loose curls. The 23rd? That’s a month...no...almost five weeks away. He slips his cellphone out of his jacket, thumb tapping over to his calendar. It’s a Friday...but good, there’s no game that day–however there is a team meeting. If he asks now, he should be able to be excused from the meeting and maybe the mid-day practice as well. You haven’t mentioned this event to him, he muses, fingers rapidly tapping the date into his reminders, but it looks important and he wants to go with you, if you’ll let him.

He hears the telltale shudder of your shower’s cut-off valve and he turns, ready to walk back to the neutral safety of your living room when he spies a haphazardly cracked doorway that clearly leads into your bedroom. His feet are carrying him around the low base of the chabudai, and before he can justify his impulsive [ curious, hungry ] reasoning he’s already leaning in, unabashedly looking over the space.

The room is dark; the dusky light of the sunset is muffled by the curtains that drape over the large window, but Kiyoomi marvels, obsidian eyes whisking over the small space, greedily taking in the neat folds of your downy comforter, the soft pillows that nestle under the headboard, and the fan that sits atop the tatami mats. It smells like you in here; the chilled air holds the gentle scent of rich florals and spice and he wants to step closer, but then his hand is catching against the doorframe and he jerks back, hurriedly gulping down a sharp breath as his black hair slumps over his hooded eyes.

It’s...it’s not...he shouldn’t have looked. It’s not polite, but damn, he almost doesn’t care.

What would it be like to step past that threshold? To walk into something that’s so saturated with you? He feels like his skin is too close, too heavy, and he wants nothing more than to stretch out on the cool sheets of your bed to ease that simmer that’s thrumming under his heated flesh.

Wait. A bed. You have a bed.

Shit.

Kiyoomi’s always been content with his futon, satisfied with the simplicity of it. He’s always considered beds to be a waste of space, unnecessary, after all, he’s just sleeping on it. Why did it matter?

Unanswered questions whir around his half cocked head. What if you don’t like futons? If you think they’re uncomfortable, or inconvenient? Besides, now he’s picturing laying with you on a bed, [ this bed ] not a futon. Kiyoomi wants to see you stretched out beside him, comfortable and happy, with that tantalizing smile and those playful eyes watching him, waiting for him. What side do you prefer? Right? Left? And then? What happens when you’ve picked your spot and settled in?

Would you want him to shift closer? Could he run his palms past your arms and down the sloping curves of your hips? Would you do the same for him? What would your nails feel like as they scratched faint lines along his sides, over the muscles of his abdomen, or down his back? You’d be so close. So close that every sigh that passed between your lips would be shared with him and he’d inhale every sound, his lips rough against yours. And if you arched into him, your hands urging him to straddle himself over your intoxicating softness, your thighs spreading as he lowers his hips––

The bathroom door clicks and the fevered daydream fades, his feet cumbersome and tangled as he lumbers back to the living room, his heart pounding in his ears. He doesn’t like this breathlessness, doesn’t like that his hands are trembling as he stuffs them into his pockets. Any second now you’ll be in front of him and he wants to hold you, to let the pull of your hands and the sleek drag of your lips satiate the feel [ throb ] of his unexpected [ visceral ] arousal.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to take that long, I just–– ”

The distance between the two of you is closed within a heartbeat, and his outstretched fingertips glide down the smooth line of your neck. You suck in a sharp breath, your body rigid under his hold, [ damn it, too fast ] and he drops his hands, easing you into the suddenness of his movement with lazy kisses against your warm cheek and neck, grinning when you lean into him at last.

[ Yes. Perfect. ]

You want him to kiss you properly, and you do your best to chase his lips, your arms folding around his bowed neck as you tap a few impatient kisses against his lowered forehead. But he ignores your temptations, not ready to move away from the intoxicating fragrance of your freshly cleaned skin. That soothing smell of peppermint and fresh lavender is near ambrosial, and he greedily digs his nose against you as his muscular arms drape over your sides, and his broad hands pause against the small of your back.

His sharp exhales against your shower dampened neck make you shiver but he maneuvers you closer, rubbing his lower lip against the dip of your shoulder before lifting to catch his teeth on your pulse. He knows just what you like now; he thinks smugly, tracing the flat of his tongue over a line of gooseflesh that bursts over your slicked skin.

In the last month he’s gained a steady mastery of your preferences when it came to his kisses. You preferred to start things slowly, to have him cup your face and stoke you up steadily, but once he eases down the intricate line of your neck, well, all that softness and coy sweetness would bleed into something else entirely.

You liked it rougher then; liked for these caresses to be charged with lightning fast pushes and pulls, your fingers alternating between the sides of his jaw or the coiled thickness of his hair as you swayed him closer, and that shift never failed to set his heart racing and often sent his tightly reigned control spiraling. But that’s not what he wants, not right now, so he’s careful to keep you at bay, distracting your breathless twists with a fresh set of nips and unhurried pecks against your throat.

He wants to lose himself in you; to blank out all the other worries. The differences don’t matter, not when he can hold you like this.

“Hey, Kiyoomi,” you gasp and only then does he stop his incessant assault, arms tensing as they clutch you to the broad slope of his chest, his dark waves falling heavily against your kiss glistened shoulder.

“Hmm?” he murmurs, his voice reverberating against your wet skin.

“What...what’s gotten into you?” you falter, distracted by the hum of his low tone and the soothing pass of his hands as they curve along your spine.

“Dunno, just felt like kissing you,” he lies impassively, lifting his head from you, obsidian eyes shielded by his mussed curls, the tops of his cheeks aglow.

You exhale a tight laugh at his serious, but utterly flushed expression. “Okay–so why did you stop?”

“Liked it that much, huh? I’m hungry,” he clarifies, a smirk curling his erubescent lips and you laugh, melting that jaunty grin into his usual straightlaced frown. “Tch,” he tries again, sliding his dark eyes away from your open bemusement, a pink blush staining the bridge of his nose. “It’s not that I...hmph, come on, don’t act like you’re not hungry, too...”

You were an excellent cook. Not that he’d fully meant his droll quip at the gym; after all, why offer to do something if you’re not good at it? But he’s glad he agreed to a home cooked meal.

Besides, there is something soothing about the whole thing.It was nice, watching you deftly maneuver around your tiny kitchen, turning on burners, setting timers, and arranging the ingredients in simple bowls and plates; it reminded him of the coffee shop. And he’s always liked watching you work. Your movements were always smooth [ elegant ]. You kept your hands close and your elbows in, so confident in the motions of your ingrained routines and the tidiness of your space, that you could easily carry on a conversation with him, your eyes careful to meet his over the top of the espresso machine.

But this is better than watching you in the coffee shop. There’s no divider now. There’s just you and him. It’s comforting and he wants to experience it again and again.

You let him set the plates out, chop the vegetables, prep the soba, and asked him to pick out some beer from your fridge, saying you trusted his choice and chuckling good-naturedly when he padded back to your side, four cans sticking icily to his palms as he asked a few [ five or six ] clarifying questions about the brews.He enjoys your cheerful teasing; he thinks as the two of you sit at the low chabudai; it makes him feel like he fits in, like he can be part of this side of you. You tuck your legs to one side as you sit, your shoulder gently bumping against his as you ease into a comfortable position on the tatami mats and Kiyoomi leans closer, indulging himself in the press long after you’ve picked up your chopsticks–a shared meal of of cabbage and onion okonomiyaki and salmon stir fry resting between the two of you.

It’s a simple thing, all of this touch, but Kiyoomi can’t get enough of it. Every time your arm brushes against his, or you ask him to pass you something from his side of the table, he wants to prolong the contact, to keep his fingers beside yours, or feel the warmth of your thigh and the jut of your hip as he shifts nearer.

He didn’t think he enjoyed being touched.

He always did his utmost to avoid it, shunning the clapped backs and constant high fives that always seemed to be prepackaged and expected in the contact heavy sport of volleyball. Not because he didn’t like his teammates [ sure, sometimes– eh, most of the time ] they were too much, but he genuinely liked playing with them. But he didn’t enjoy the balmy heat of skin on skin contact, or the worry of shared germs. Touching meant weakness. It allowed things to spread from person to person; it created variables, and more variables always meant things could slip out of his control. No, Kiyoomi valued the predictable, the known, the cleanliness and routine, and touch threw most of that out of the equation.

He doesn’t like touch.

Yet he’s craving yours.

It’s another thing that isn’t like him, he contemplates, passing his empty bowl to you, already missing that pleasing closeness you’d shared with him as you walk back into your kitchen and that stark absence makes him stand. It’s an urge, a compulsion, and it’s not something he wants to question so he listens to his instincts, feet planted firmly beneath him as he follows you, his hands lifted, reaching for you. When he tugs you against his chest, his dark head dropping beside yours, jet curls fanning beside your cheek and along your neck, he feels the ache within him settle and he lets himself wallow in the familiarity of crisp peppermint that sits against your skin. [ There. He can worry about the rest later, right now this is all he wants. ]

“I should go,” he whispers, the tip of his nose cool against you. He locks his forearms around your waist and sighs when you rest your temple against his.

He [ doesn’t want to ] should go.

“Yeah,” you echo, cupping your fingers over his crossed arms and stroking them over his goose-fleshed skin. “I work in the morning. So I need to be up early.”

His steady breaths match yours and he pulls you closer, humming contentedly as the curve of your back falls into the hollow of his chest. “I’ll go,” Kiyoomi stalls, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the slope of your neck. He really should. There are only a few more trains tonight, but he can’t let go.

So he lingers, his heavy body leaning against yours, full lips dragging along your pulse as his arms loop tightly around you. You twist your head and he lets you return his caresses, groaning against the sweet pressure of your lips. You’re gentle with him, your kisses filled with restrained desire, and the gossamer touch makes him reach for more. When you pull away, your eyes shining in the gleam of your kitchen lights, he brings you back, his broad palms turning you to him as his chapped fingers tilt your chin, his arms cupping you so close he can feel the thud of your heart against his.

He [ doesn’t want to ] should go.

notes: @kugutsuu made me these lovely lines. aren’t they pretty! (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

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gothgirlbethany · 2 years

Text

Headcanon Time!

Here’s a list of applicable headcanons for this blog! It’s pretty long so I’m putting the individual character heacanons under the read more. These are mainly for the Tainted versions.

General

Eden is the oldest, being just as old as the universe, and Isaac+dead counterparts are the youngest at 18.

Out of the humans, Eve is the oldest at 27.

Samson is the tallest while Lilith is the shortest. Maggy comes close second to Sam. (I have no set heights yet)

Blind Bitch Club (aka needs/has glasses): Eve, Jacob, Keeper, Laz, maybe Sam.

All the Isaacs don't really get along as much as they should

The Tainted characters are older versions of the originals. In the instance of this blog there has been a thirteen-year time skip between when they first left the Basement and when they returned

The Basement is a limbo created by God to give “trials” to abused kids and Fallen beings he feels like tormenting again

Scars accumulate from runs and can be healed quicker by getting HP ups or using the Yum Heart

Personal items (Torn Photo, Polaroid/Negative, Mr. Dolly, possibly some others) differ in appearance based on who’s “player 1”

The Mom-based bosses (minus Mother) and Angel Isaac+??? also change according to “P1”

Mother is Jacob and Esau’s mother. This is why defeating her unlocks them, and why the alt-path is so different and new and coincided with their arrival to the Basement

Age Ideas (Parentheses are Tainted)

Isaac+dead counterparts: 5 (18)

Maggy: 7 (20)

Cain: 10 (23)

Judas: 10 (23)

Eve: 14 (27)

Samson: 11 (24)

Laz: 10 (23)

Beth: 9 (22)

J+E: 9 (22)

Apollyon, Azazel, and Lilith are thousands of years old and are listed in order of time of creation. Eden's age is the estimated age of the universe.

Applicable Headcanons for Each Character

Isaac

Now lives with his dad

That. Explains the bruises.

Named all the unique monsters in the Basement, as well as identified some Items

One thing he and his dead counterparts have in common is a love for drawing

The chaos of having seventeen people crammed into one floor stresses him out more than the others

Appreciates his friendship with all of them, though

Gender is Isaac. Doesn’t really care what pronouns people use so everyone uses he/him for short

Magdalene

She used to be a pageant child and still suffers body issues from it.

The Caffeine Pill item REEAAALLLY upsets her cause of that

V… valley girl accent……….

Assigned healer

BEST HUGS!!!!

Maybe too good. If she's hugging you don't let her get distracted cause she'll forget her own strength

Cain

Has a prosthetic left foot from an accident (havent thought of exactly what yet)

His left eye was gouged out by his dad tho

He's the most generally well-off of everyone. Guess he was just born lucky…

Absolutely was a Little Shit™ as a child and still is

Avid min-maxer in video games

Kleptomaniac

Ok the way I'm describing sounds like he's got a bit of OCD

Often fulfills role as leader when need be

I don't have any ideas for Abel yet but I'll think of something. Maybe he was absorbed in the womb?

You know what??? I like that. Cain's a chimaera. He has (uh. Had???) heterochromia. That's why his eye items are different colors.

Is bald on purpose

Judas

Br*tish. Mancunian, even.

Hanged himself in the closet

His pact was with Belial (obv)

Chose to learn the dark arts when he was nine

Eventually got the stick out of his ass and developed a sense of humor

Still Anti-Christian to the point where it's a bit worrying but the others are starting to understand him

Yes he had a friend named Jesús. It was an unintentional betrayal, though.

???

He can't really talk. All that comes out when he vocalizes are grunts and groans.

Responds to a lot of questions by just. smiling and shrugging 🤷‍♂️

Just. Chilling.

Chaotic and does what he Wants for comedic purposes

Eve

Has a Dead Bird tattoo on her chest.

Needs to take blood-thinning pills.

Forgotten calls her "V" as a reference to his own nickname.

Has a younger brother named Adam

Ma'am please stop smoking it's SO bad for you

Half Japanese cause I said so

She's still marked by the Whore of Babylon on her left thigh, which she got through the Satanic Church

It's undecided which demon she made her pact with. I was thinking about making it a twist where it's Lilith…

The local crows love her

Samson

Back story here

His middle name is Loowit after Mount St. Helens

The only person he fully trusts and can make him smile is Maggy 🥺

Beat his dad to death lmao

He was happier as a kid when his mom was still around…

Now he just has anger issues and gets easily annoyed

Delilah.

Azazel

The OG. It's unknown what his Choir was before his Fall, besides being in the class of Watchers

Has a face mask for every occasion. Ofc there are meme ones

His sense of humor is. SO BAD.

This is where his wings and horn went

Making fun of people is his way of showing affection

Still misses Semjaza even though he was kinda back stabbed

Lazarus

He is a TOTAL hippy. Vegetarian and all.

Flipped Laz doesn't give a fuck about any personal beliefs though and will do anything to survive. Sometimes regular Laz will flip back with a stomach ache cause he unknowingly ate meat.

Laz subconsciously flips when he feels like he's about to die (kinda like the emergency button trinket). Obv it's automatic when he "clears" rooms.

Normal Laz is very sweet and shy

Dead/Flipped Laz is angry, driven to that point by dying so many times. His rage could almost match Samson's

Flipped Laz is incredibly paranoid and is always in fight-or-flight mode

Eden

A fallen deity

Knows more about the world than the others

They are the personification of the chaotic nature of the universe. They are both tranquility and chaos. They are blessed and damned. They are all and nothing.

Judas introduced them to memes. Oh God why did you do that. They're almost as bad as Azazel. They won't stop saying amogus. Help.

Fourth wall breaker

God wanted to make them one of His angels so they'd always be under His control. But Eden is too stubborn.

Eloquent speaker

Shapeshifter cause their true form would melt everyone. Mainly changes their voice to quote ytps.

Lately they’ve been losing some control of their powers, which is why they appear glitchy

Lost

Edgy

Needy

Keep killing him it's funny

Check out his spiders

Backstory thing here

While he knows he can easily die he still fucks with the others cause he thinks its funny

Lilith

The OG

No hard feelings for Adam, but definitely some for God

And Samael. Dear LORD don’t bring him up

Married to Asmodeus

Gello's full name is Gelatínus Azariah Shamdon (yeah lol, Raphael's cover name, and Asmodeus' father)

Assigned mom friend and treats everyone like they’re her children

With help from Azazel, she got Judas and Beth together

In general plays matchmaker with Zaze. They've got a great record it's just 99% of their successful matches are random nobody enemies no one cares about

Incubus doesn’t seem to talk to her anymore...

Keeper

Often forgets the other kids' names cause he never cared to learn them unless they paid up (he always called Bethany Brittany for example)

This is why he gave them all titles and refers to them by that (The Zealot, The Broken, etc)

INSANELY good at math. Gotta be good at counting them coins

Best way I can describe his existence is that he's a corpse inhabited by a fragment of Greed? When he was "unlocked" he was no longer controlled by Ultra Greed/part of the hive mind

Another eloquent speaker, he's more flamboyant about it though

Apollyon

Another OG

If he gets too excited about the Pit eventually taking all, new cracks appear or previous cracks on his body worsen.

His pre-Fall name was Abaddon. It’s unknown what his Choir was.

Abbadon was cocky and prideful but was very quickly humbled by God. Don’t ever shit-talk Gabriel again

His sentences always trail off…

Used to be friends with the Horsemen

Main form of affection is existing in the same room as someone, like a cat. He considers this bonding.

Forgotten

Everyone calls him "F" for short.

He's been hanging around Eve too much cause now he's emo and apathetic like her.

Is the skeleton a different soul??? Who knows!

Uncomfortable in tight spaces. He's not over the being buried thing

Bethany (Her!!!!)

I dunno if that's supposed to be an eye or jewel on her head??? Honestly I kinda prefer jewel

Either way it bleeds when she cries

And it only ever glows if she has an active wisp

Each wisp she summons is gifted by a Goetic demon (I'll explain more once I actually make a ref sheet)

Has a Seal of Solomon ring (again will be on an eventual ref sheet)

Her mom's name is Judy (after Judea in the Bible)

Kinda backstory again

Second soprano in choir

Knew Edith

Only acts tough. She's still sweet on the inside. Her mouth just runs faster than her brain sometimes and regrets things she said

Jacob

J+E backstory here

His mother's name is Rebekah (Like in the Bible)

Momma's boy

Has always been easily jealous and afraid to admit it

Has had a weak stomach ever since he, well, watched his brother get flayed

Blood makes him queasy, cause, well--

We all know he simps for Beth. Dude please just let it go

Currently wearing his mother’s dress

Esau

Much like in the Bible he's the older, fraternal twin

And his dad liked him more…

His vision doesn't suck ass like Jacob's cause of his pact

Which he made with Satan btw

The reason why he's grabbed by Big Horn when he "dies" is because Esau babysits Lil Horn for him. It's the least he can do.

Speaking of Lil Horn that's his little onglydoople. His cutest tootsit. Bapy

I wanted to be dramatic and only have him in serious situations but it's honestly more fun to make him act like an angry cat

Friends with the demon bosses. Yes he gets a lot of "Remember when we tried to kill u??? Lol." jokes from them

I tried to make sure everyone had at least a few. Some definitely have fewer than others lol. I tried my best.

Feel free to, like, reblog this or message me about this. I came up with these on my own so peer review would be nice 👉👈

#((i cant think of anymore so imma post it now))#((left this all out of parentheses for ease of formatting))#the binding of isaac #tboi #headcanons #ooc #mun speaks

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mmvalentine · 3 years

Text

The Bargain Pt 8 | Feysand

Modern AU. Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 9

Feyre stared and stared.

Rhys went red and tried to yank his sleeve back down, but Feyre reached out and took a hold of his arm. Turned it over in her hand, inspecting the pop of colour amongst the sharp black lines that lived there. Although she had drawn the design a whole year ago, the swaths of red, orange and green were still intimately familiar.

And then she suddenly remembered signing her name. Flipped his wrist over thinking surely not- but there was her scrawled signature just under his palm.

Rhys pulled his hand back uncomfortably.

"Shit, Feyre," he said. "I'm so sorry." "You... you tattooed my drawings?" "I honestly didn't think I'd see you again. You must think I'm an absolute creep."

Feyre opened and closed her mouth, in shock.

"When?" she asked. "Uh, maybe four months ago?" Rhys guessed. "Not right away. You left, and the drawings faded but I liked them so much I kept tracing them back on. And then I had traced the so many times my hands learned them, so months later I could still remake them from memory.

"One day I had a cancellation and I was sitting there bored, and I just did them on a whim. I hadn't heard from you and I assumed you'd decided you didn't want to be friends after all. But I should have told you, should have asked you first. I'm so sorry." Rhys reached for her hands, and looked at her with pleading eyes.

Feyre's jaw snapped shut.

"That... is... awesome," she said finally. Rhys blinked at her.

"It is?" "That is so cool, I can't believe you did that!" Feyre grabbed his arm back and took another look. His golden-brown skin was satiny beneath her fingers. "You even tattooed my stupid signature!"

Rhys coloured again.

"Yeah well, it was sort of part of the design, and it doesn’t look like a word. I didn't mean to like, stamp your name on me, that's so weird.” "No," Feyre disagreed. "I mean yeah, a little, but also I'm so honoured. And it can't be that weird, because I have your art tattooed on me too." Rhys laughed. "Well I guess that's true."

Feyre held her arm next to his.

"We permanently marked each other," she said in wonder, and then looked up at him, and found him staring back at her. Closer than she realised.

"No wonder we found each other again," Rhys said softly.

A minute or so passed before Feyre noticed they had been kneeling on the concrete, just staring at each other. She pulled her arm back, and Rhys cleared his throat. They stood up, and then moved about collecting their paints.

Like any other day, they loaded everything back into Feyre's car, but after the revelation of Rhys' tattoo, and the completion of the mural, Feyre didn't quite know how to drive away. So instead, she said, "Rhys? Do you... do you want to hang out tonight?"

Rhys put his hands in his pockets and tilted his head to one side.

"You're not scared off by my stalker tattoos?"

Feyre shook her head.

"Then yeah. Yeah I do."

Feyre smiled. "Okay," she said nervously. "Should we meet up later?"

Rhys shrugged. "I have no plans. I don't know anyone else in this city, remember?" "Oh yeah," Feyre said. "Well. I don't have any plans either. Do you... want to come home with me?"

Rhys' eyes darkened, and suddenly he looked positively dangerous.

"Are you asking me back to your place?" he asked. Feyre rolled her eyes to hide the fact that her heart was speeding up.

"Okay now I think you're a creep," she said. "Come on." She tossed her head toward the front of the car, then got in the driver's side while Rhys laughed. A second later, Rhys slid into the passenger seat.

He shut the door and the outside world was cut off. The silence was suddenly quite loud. Feyre looked at him, his long frame squished into her tiny car that she could have sworn was bigger this morning. He seemed to fill the space with his legs, with his shoulders. After days of sharing a wide open space, he was suddenly everywhere in this crammed little capsule. She wondered if her breathing sounded as loud to him as it did to her right now.

She looked away, and started the engine. The noise cut into the quiet that had wrapped around them, and felt like it gave them a little more room. She tried not to look at him as she drove, tried to speak but suddenly couldn’t think of anything to say. Rhys started humming under his breath, and Feyre bit her cheek to hide her smile.

Feyre's apartment was not far. It was why she had turned down Tarquin's offer to stay in the hotel where Rhys had been put up. They pulled up at her block, parked, and then each picked up a box of paints to carry up to Feyre's place.

She walked ahead of Rhys, listening to the syncopated rhythm of his footsteps echoing on the stairs behind hers, and felt nervous. Felt silly for feeling nervous, and had to remind herself that they were just going to sit up in her apartment drinking tea, nothing scandalous or nervous-making about it.

Still, it was the first time she had been alone with a man in her house since she and Tamlin had split up.

And for all the times she had scrolled through Rhys’ Instagram, she never thought he’d be here.

"So, this is me," Feyre said, setting her box down on the kitchen counter. Rhys did the same, while Feyre took her coat off and draped it over a chair. "You can take a seat while I make tea, if you want. Sorry about the mess."

Rhys smiled at her and wandered toward the couch, looking around as he did and touching a few leaves on her many houseplants.

"Art supplies everywhere?" he said. "Feels like home, to me."

Once the kettle had boiled, Feyre brought their mugs over and sat next to Rhys. She set the tea on the coffee table, amongst a few scattered pads and palettes, and then, unable to drink it while it was so hot, was at a loss of what to do with her hands.

Rhys was not.

"Okay you've seen my new tattoo," he said. "Let's have a look how yours has healed up."

He picked up Feyre's arm, and ran his thumb over the black pattern. She shuffled closer to give him a better look, folding her legs under herself on the seat.

"Anything you'd change now?" Feyre asked him. Rhys shrugged. "Change? No, of course not. But if you were expanding it I'd have ideas." "Oh yeah?" Feyre picked up a ballpoint pen off the table, and handed it to him. "Go on, then." "Alright," Rhys said, "but don't be all obsessive and get my doodles tattooed or anything." He wagged the pen at her. "Just draw, you self-deprecating weirdo."

Rhys chuckled, then pulled the cap off with his teeth and put the pen tip to her skin. His knee knocked against her thigh.

Unlike the last time Rhys inked her, this time of course did not hurt. So Feyre was so much more conscious of his fingers brushing over her skin. Wasn't trying to distract herself from pain, which just left her to stare at Rhys' face while he focused. Slight frown on his brow. Pen lid still in his mouth. Hand holding hers, as he extended the pattern downward past her wrist. She leaned in to see what he was doing, and when he moved his hair tickled her chin.

"There you go," he said eventually. He stopped drawing, but he didn't let go of her fingers.

"I love it," Feyre said, looking at Rhys' lips instead of her arm. "You have to sign your name too, like I did." Rhys found a gap on the outside edge of her wrist, and obliged.

"Now we match," he murmured. He looked up, his face now just inches away. His violet eyes went on forever. His thumb stroked Feyre's palm, and his fingers felt rough and hot in hers. Their tea cooled on the table.

"Why is it," Feyre asked him softly, "that I like my body better once you've changed it?" Rhys hadn't moved, and she hadn’t meant to get so close to him. But here they were. So close she could see the rise and fall of his chest with his breathing. His fingers trailed up a dark line of her tattoo.

"I think you're always perfect," he whispered. Feyre‘s cheeks heated.

"But if I still want your marks on my skin?" she said. "Then I'm at your service." He leaned in even closer, as he followed the pattern up her elbow. "You'll still tattoo me?" Feyre reached out and traced his tattoos, too. "I'd mark you however you'd let me." "And how else would you mark me?" she asked, the words barely making it out. She stared at her name on his wrist. He brushed a thumb down her jaw, and when she looked up his eyes were lidded and on her mouth.

"Well for one," he said, and then tugged her gently toward him and kissed her with his teeth on her bottom lip.

****

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-loml @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111 @thebonecarver @rowaelinismyotp @loosingdreams @whythefuckdoiexist @inejsarrow @swankii-art-teacher @sjmships @courtofjurdan @teddytdr @positivewitch @thalia-2-rose @darling-archeron @rapunzel1523 @fairchildjace @philosophorumaurum02 @story-scribbler @allthecolorsneverseen

#feysand #feysand fic #acotar #mine #fluff

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coffeechangbeanie · 3 years

Text

Home Reading 18+

Dilf!Chan, biker!chan, kindergarten teacher!reader

Basically Chris' daughter is in your kindergarten class, and you've been simping whenever he pulls up on his motorbike to pick her up. Plus he's tattooed because I have n e e d s ok? There's a bit of pussy slapping and dirty talk but it's pretty vanilla.

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You were standing outside the school, making sure your kindergarten class stayed in line. As the bus pulled up to the side if the road, your kindergarten assistant took her line of bus kids to that side of the parking lot, giving you a lovely view of the parent parking lot. Especially one parent in particular. You composed yourself as you saw Mr. Bang pull up in his motorcycle, his daughter, Yuna, excitedly jumped up and down, accidentally hitting another girl. The girl starts to cry, hitting Yuna back. Hiding your annoyance, you knelt down to Yuna, "Yuna, remember, keep control of your hands." Yuna sheepishly nods. "And Suzie we know not to hit our friends back-"

"Ms. Yn?" A deep voice says behind you, interupting your teacher speech.

You turn around, standing up to see Chris.

His black leather jacket hangs off his shoulders exposing just enough of the head of his surpent tattoo on his neck for you to wonder how far the snake went down his body.

"Ah, Mr. Bang, did you get my email?"

"yes I did, where are we having this impromptu parent teacher meeting?" He says, adjusting his helmet under his arm, a much smaller, sparkly pink one tucked inside.

You see your assistant coming back up the sidewalk. "Right now if ms. Chaeyoung wouldnt mind taking over."

"of course! Go have your meeting," she says, taking your clipboard from you.

You lead the way back inside to you classroom.

The room's walls are lined with students drawings, crafts, and pictures. A whiteboard with the day's letter still up.

"Mr. Bang, today marks the 3rd week her home reading isn't done. In class she's unfocused, hyperactive, and disruptive, I'd like to work with you so we can help her succeed."

Chris rubs his eyes defeatedly, "it's been a tough few weeks, I'll get on the home reading and speak to her about her behaviour."

"thank you, Mr. Bang."

He nods, awkwardly leaving your classroom. You watch him exit the building from the window. Happily picking up Yuna and putting on her helmet for her. He carries her out the his bike as she sits atop his shoulders. You can't help but smile at the cuteness.

It had been a few weeks since your meeting with Chris about Yuna, but you couldn't get the thought of him out if your head. (Not that you could normally, but it was especially bad lately). You know you shouldn't be thinking about one if your student's parent that way but you'd never seen a ring in his finger and Yuna never talked about her mom on the "draw your family" art project...

You were out walking your dog through the playground, the late afternoon sun hanging low in the sky. You hear children giggle as they played.

"Ms. yn!" You look up to see Felix, a parent of another of your students, sitting in a park bench next to Chris. You do a double take when you catch a blush rising up his cheeks.

"Mr. Lee, Mr. Bang," you say, your dog preoccupied with a smell under the bench, "lovely evening for the park innit?"

Felix checks his watch, "speaking of, it's almost dinner time."

"tell your wife I say 'hi'" Chris calls after Felix who's helping his little girl pack up her toys.

"always do!" Felix calls back.

Chris laughs. It's such a genuine laugh, almost like a giggle.

You found yourself fascinated with the sound.

"something on my face?"

You snap out if your daze, "sorry, I just wasn't expecting your laugh to sound like that," you try to laugh away the awkwardness.

It seems to work as Chris relaxes his shoulders, loosening up. He laughs again. The sight of his crinkled eyes as he looks at you makes your heart swell.

"I know it's rather sudden," Chris inhaled sharply, "but would you like to come over for dinner tomorrow? Yuna's having a sleepover at Felix's since it's a Friday-"

"I'd love to!" You cut off his rambling.

"really!?" He asks excitedly with wide eyes.

"yeah I thought you'd never ask," you laugh, "is 7 o'clock a good time?"

"I'll see you then," he says, grinning from ear to ear.

You walk up a set of concrete steps, seeing Chris' bike on the drive as you approach the front door.

The door opens before you have a chance to raise your hand to knock.

Chris looks stunningly sifistocated in his white button up and black jeans, hair styled curly as he invites you inside. He asks to take your coat, more than happy to show off your backless red dress.

"wow," he breaths, taking in the sight.

You smile, "you don't look half bad yourself."

He has a classy dinner already laid in on his dinning room table.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't find a table cloth."

"I don't mind at all," you say, smiling at Yuna's drawings etched into the wood.

Chris pulls out a chair for you, you sit down, thanking him. From this angle you have a good view into an office. You notice a stack of books and recording equipment piled on a desk

"what's the books for?" You ask.

"hm? Oh! Just my university stuff," he says, serving you.

"what are you studying?"

"music production, because I hate working so low down in the company."

You listen to him talk about his degree, how he's been studying for his finals the last few weeks, his job now and Yuna. He fills you in on all the adorable, sweet, and cheeky things his little girl has done. You see the sparkle in his eyes and can't help but reciprocate, she really is a sweet kid.

You find him fascinating in everyway. But your mind wanders a bit, he is also irresistibly sexy with his dark curls in his eyes and shirt showing a bit too much skin. The fact that you're sitting across from him now is enought to make your core wet.

"-sorry I don't mean to talk so much, I just rarely get the chance to have adult conversations, you know living with a 5 year old and what not- and here I go again rambling." He sheepishly resumes eating his dinner.

"not at all! I love listening to you!"

"really?"

"yeah," you say, a bit too breathy.

"that's good," he says staring at your lips. You hadn't realized you'd been biting your bottom one. You decide to bite the bullet instead and press your foot to his crotch. His body goes pliant in his chair for a moment before he silently puts his fork down.

He looks at you, searching your gaze before a dark lustful look comes over him.

He picks up his fork again, "the bedroom is the last room on the left hallway," he says, finishing his last bite of food.

Youve hardly processed his sentence when he speaks again.

"Did you hear me baby girl?"

You nod rapidly, standing up with weak knees going down the hallway.

You find the bedroom. You're inside for less than a second when Chris pushes you against his bedroom wall, kissing you deeply.

"How about you strip for me, let me see how much you want me." He's hardly finished his sentence when you're pulling off your clothes. You struggle to get out of your dress in your eagerness, eventually draping it over a nearby chair, kneeling on the floor, looking up eagerly at him.

"no bra," he breaths, his eyes fucking you.

Chris takes his sweet time unbuttoning his shirt. You can't help but ogle at the sight. Your eyes find the serpent, following it down his chest, the end of its tail still tucked behind his black jeans.

Chris continues the show, slowly dropping his pants and stepping out of them.

So it ends at his knee. You think to yourself.

You can see his leaking dick pressed painful hard against his underwear. Your mouth waters at the sight.

"close your mouth, darling. You'll catch flies." He grins, voice like silk.

"maybe you should close my mouth for me," you test.

He smirks, running the pad of his thumb against your bottom lip.

You take that as permission to pull his boxers down.

"you gonna be a good girl and take all my cock?" He asks smugly.

You nod, stroking his length, leaving kitten licks on his tip.

Chris groans, "feels so good, Yn."

You take his whole length into his mouth, taking him by surprise. he accidentally bucks his hips into your warm mouth.

He moans seeing you choke on his cock for a second.

Chris mumbles an apology as he rest his hand in your hair, feeling the way you bob your head up and down on his thick length.

You bask in his elicit moans, feeling smug knowing you're the one on your knees for him, not any of your co-workers or single moms. You.

He suddenly pulls your head off him. You whine in response. Chris guides you back to your feet, pulling your body against his.

"that was fun baby girl, but now it's your turn," he whispers into your neck, his hard-on dripping against your thigh.

Chris picks you up, tossing you effortlessly on the bed, he kisses down your neck to your boobs, giving each a gentle squeeze before continuing his ministrations down your body. He gives special attention to your thighs, avoiding where you want him most. You catch his drift.

"please Chris, please touch my pussy" you whine.

Chris moans, "such a dirty girl."

"please," you whine again.

Chris lightly brushes his fingers over your womanhood, just barely missing your clit.

You groan in annoyance.

"touch me harder, Chris please!"

He lands a harsh but not painful slap on your dripping cunt. You moan, gripping his bicep as a wave of pleasure hits you.

"like that, baby girl?"

You nod rapidly.

Chris kisses your pussy lips, before slapping you again, you don't have time recover when he lands a third.

Chris presses his tongue against your clit. You watch his eyes flutter closed as he eats you out like he didn't just finish dinner.

He inserts 2 fingers, making you scream in pleasure.

He pistons his fingers in and out of your soaked heat while sucking harshly on your clit.

It quickly becomes too much, you come on his fingers with a moan of his name

Chris doesn't stop, he slows down while you ride out your orgasm but picks up the pace when you start squirming.

After your third orgasm, pulls his fingers out, you whine in protest.

"I can't take it anymore," he groans, whipping a drawer open and cracking a fresh box of condoms.

You watch his fingers, still slick with your come open the wrapper.

"first time using one of these," he nervously giggles when he catches your gaze.

You take the condom from him, sliding it down his thick length. His erection twitching in your hand.

You sense the anxiety in the air.

You lay on your back, pulling him on-top.

"fuck me Chris," you moan.

He groans as he guides his dick in you.

You moan when he bottoms out.

He starts off slow, letting you feel all of his length. As he gains confidence, he quickens his pace until you're screaming his name.

He slows his thrusts just long enough to make you squirm before his hips resume pistoning in you. The pleasure knocking the wind out of you.

"feels so good, Chris," you moan, tangling a hand in his hair. Your other hand moving down his back, feeling his back muscles flex with every jerk of his hips.

"fuck Yn, I'm going to come."

You've lost the ability to speak, responding only by moaning.

You both come at the same time, feeling him relax onto you.

After a moment of heavy breathing and gentle kisses later, Chris pulls out. He throws out the condom standing up. He pulls one of his clean black tees over your exhausted form. He tucks you into bed with him.

"that was amazing, Yn, thank you."

"you're very welcome, I thoroughly enjoyed myself," you chime. Chris giggles, his thumb rubbing circles on your thigh.

You laugh, burying your head into the crook of his neck.

He wraps his arms around you as you trace his snake tattoo from his neck down to his side to his leg.

He pulls you into a gentle but passionate kiss, your hands finding purchase on his shoulders.

"can I ask a question, Chris?" You ask between kisses.

"shoot."

"what happened to Yuna's mom?"

Chris took a deep breath, you cringed at yourself for letting curiousity get the better of you.

"she was a fling in my senior year of high school, when she got pregnant and didn't want the baby, I said I'd take her. Yuna's never met her mom."

"I didn't know, I'm so sorry."

"don't be." He smiled, "I think you'd make a much better mom for her."

"really?"

"if that's what you want!" Chris rushed, realizing what he just said.

"that is what I want," you say, kissing his lips.

"does that mean you'll do her home reading for me?"

You laugh, nodding.

_______________________________________________

Ugh I feel like this is trash lmao I tried. Ive volunteered in kindergarten before so I tried to make the dialogue work but idk if it did, I wrote this instead of sleeping. It's also been a very long time since I've written in "novel" format since I'm practicing screenplays rn oof so I'm sorry if this sucks. Please leave a comment if you enjoyed! And thank you to @lovebini for the giggling suggestion!

-Elle

#stray kids bang chan smut #stray kids smut #chan stray kids #chan smut #dilf chan

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jikooksgirl19 · 3 years

Text

My Soulmates 1

Genre:Soulmate AU, fluff,angst, eventual smut

Pairing: Idol Jimin x Lawyer Reader x Idol Jungkook

Warnings: some swearing (Y/N has a trash mouth sometimes)

A/N: I’m so excited to bring you my story. I hope you all enjoy this first chapter.

Please read the teaser and prologue first if you haven’t already.

*********************************************************************

October 7, 2018 4:36pm

The boys had been practicing since 8am that morning with limited breaks, and were tired and hungry. They were all going to dinner and begin making their way to the elevator, laughing and joking with each other. Namjoon was deep in thought when the doors of the elevator opened and a woman came out barreling right into the midst of the group. Her head was down, and she seemed absorbed in something on the iPad she held in her hands when she must have realized what she had done. Namjoon heard her gasp and reach out towards Jimin and Jungkook and thought she might be trying to steady herself as they were reaching out to her as well. He couldn’t believe it when they all began collapsing on the floor, the other boys trying to catch them. He noticed that the three were still grasping onto each other, and a red ring began to encircle their ring fingers and travel up their arms. The other boys were staring at this as well and they looked at each other shaking their heads. All of them mumbled the same thing

...”Oh Shit!”

You felt warm and cocooned for some reason. It was so cozy and you didn’t want to wake up. Wait, when did I go home? Your thoughts were hazy and you were trying to figure out where you were. You tried to stretch and found yourself bumping into something hard. As you started groping around you realized that this was not your pillow at all but felt like a chest. A mans chest. You have never moved so fast as you just did sitting yourself up. “What the hell...!” You look and see you are on a bed with not one but two boys cuddled up around you. Fear immediately sets in as you look around the room and see sleeping figures on another bed and couch.

“What the fuck...!” You said out loud quickly slapping both your hand over your mouth so as not to awaken the men in the room. You are in bed with, and surrounded by BTS. They are the worlds most famous boy band. They are the Nations Treasures. THEY ARE YOUR CLIENTS!!! Your mind explodes right then and there. You think to yourself ’What Tumblr, A03, Wattpad fanfic did I just wake up in.’

‘OH MY GOD IM IN A COMA!!!! That has to be it. There cannot be any other explanation. I’m in a coma and I transported into some sucky ass wannabe Hallmark Movie’.

All you can think of is that you have some sort of brain tumor and have fallen into a life altering, dream fugue-like state and all your teenage and young adult fantasies are blending together therefore you have conjured up some poly bias delusional weirdness in yor muddled brain. This isn’t real...this isn’t real... this isn’t real....... You pinch yourself and...oh shit that hurt. You struggle to get off the bed which isn’t easy by any means when two pairs of arms AND legs keep trying to pull you back down. You debate screaming bloody murder when you hear someone speak.

“You’re awake”. You turned your head and saw someone sitting up rubbing his eyes looking at you. You recognized the leader of said boy band Namjoon from the many many posters around BigHit.

“I am” your voice sounding more calm than you felt. “Can you tell me where I am and why I’m here with all of you like some weird slumber party?” You we’re holding on the the last shreds of professionalism that you could before screaming to the high heavens.

“You don’t remember finding your soulmates” he asked?

“Excuse me, my what now?” You cocked your head like you didn’t hear him right. “What on earth are you going on about? Soulmate, I don’t have a soulmate.”

“Soulmates” he corrected. By now some of the other members were starting to wake up.

“I AM in a COMA”. You were starting to babble incoherently in a mix of Korean and English with some well placed Spanish swear words your mother used to use when you were little and she was mad. You we’re starting to panic and began trying to climb off the bed all the while the two boys on your bed were snoozing away like nothing was happening. You managed to fall off of the bed and skittered backwards like a crab til your back hit the wall. You slapped your cheeks willing yourself to wake up.

Namjoon looked next to him and asked “Jin can you call Yuna? I think she may be able to help out with...” he looked at you realizing he didn’t know your name. Jin got up and walked towards the window to call someone.

“Y/N. Sona Y/N.” I...I..I’m a temporary lawyer working at BigHit on some of your international contracts. I’d like to say nice to meet you but maybe when there’s a less murdery vibe and location.” You were quickly getting your bearings together and began to gather your composure. “Now can you please tell me why I’m here being cuddled to death by those thing one and thing two over there” you point towards the bed. Several giggles and laughs were heard at this. You on the other hand were not sure what was so funny.

A deep voice in the corner answered this time. “Well thing one and two as you called them, or as we like to call them Jimin and Jungkook are your soulmates “ he said matter-of-factly like it was everyday normal. “I’m Taehyung, you can call me Tae or Tae-Tae to piss them off if you want.” His big boxy grin made him look like a mischievous child You couldn’t help but give him a wary smile. Someone else, you think it was J-Hope came towards you and thrust forward a hand. You cautiously took it and he helped you up from the floor. You began dusting off your skirt and straightening your blouse internally thanking the almighty upstairs that you were still clothed while eying all of them suspiciously. “I’m Hoseok, but you can call me Hobi if you want.”

Jin turned around after hanging up and offered you the only chair in the room. You quickly shuffled over sitting down and tried to ask again why you were here. In a bedroom, on a bed with your soulmates and their band mates all in the same room. “ Can someone please just tell me what happened?” Your voice staring to crack as you were close to tears. “This just feels too extrodinary to believe. You keep saying I have soulmates, as in plural. I didn’t even know that was possible.” It was then that you looked at your left hand and saw the red string tatoo. “WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK IS HAPPENING TO ME....Did I have a stroke? How...what...why...” your words became so jumbled you weren’t making any sense and you were pretty sure a panic attack was just a moment away from tackling your neurotic ass into submission. Jin kneeled in front of you telling you to breathe. “ In through the nose....out through the mouth Y/N. You can do it just breathe in and out, in and out...that’s it, you got it, in...out.” You sat there holding his hands while Tae began rubbing your back in circles as they were trying their best to calm you down. Jin explained to you that he also has a soulmate named Yuna and she is ready to come talk to you about what being attached to an idol can be like.

Across the room you heard a groggy voice “Uugghhhh....get off me Jungkookah. Why are we in bed? What happened” could be heard from the bed you just left. Jimin was sitting up while shoving Jungkook off of him and staring around the room. Jungkook fell off the bed. He jumped up and was getting ready to tackle his hyung who knocked him down when his eyes landed on you. He was confused as to why a woman, a very pretty woman, but a woman nonetheless was sitting in their studio bedroom at BigHit, surrounded by four of his hyungs. “Um, hello” he said quietly making Jimin look in the same direction. Eyes got wide when he also said a quiet hello and then proceeded to ask Namjoon “ What’s going on. Who is she and why are we all in here. I thought we were going to dinner?”

“See, I’m not the only one confused” you exclaimed louder and much squeakier than you meant. “Apparently we are soulmates” you say while gesturing to the both of them and yourself. “Surprise “ you say throwing up jazz hands and beginning to laugh at the outrageous looks on both of their faces.

“Who, who is your soulmate?” They both say at the same time.

Namjoon looks at you knowing you are barely holding on at the moment and answers for you. “All three of you are soulmates”.

They stare at each other then at you then at the group and both start laughing. “Ok ok, good joke hyung, stop playing around. Did you knock us out and this is a mystery mission? “ “Are we on a run BTS episode we didn’t know was being filmed?” They took turns asking like this was a prank or something.

When they see no one other than you are deadly serious they stop and start to freak out as well. “ARE YOU SERIOUS?” They look at each other only to both shout out that they couldn’t be soulmates. Why is it just happening now after knowing each other all these years. Brothers yes, soulmates no. NOPE. NO WAY, WHAT THE FUCK.

You get up and walk over to them. You grab both of their left hands and show them the tattoos. You peek inside your shirt and confirm you have the soulmates date above your heart, and tell them to check their chests as well. You strangely feel calm being around the two of them and less like a victim of some K-Pop Serial Killer drama that you stepped into, and you realize they also both settle down while you’re holding onto them.

Namjoon gets up and begins to explain that though it’s rare, there are known cases of multiple soulmates. They are harder to find because all of the mates must be together for their souls to connect. Once they do connect though the bond is stronger than a normal soulmates bond and can come with difficulties due to the relationship aspect of it. Prejudice often follows a poly soulmate connection due to the narrow mindedness of society and can often be looked down on. He tells the three of you that you should tell management right away so they can have a plan in place. Fans aren’t always supportive of their bias’s soulmates, and Y/N having two of the most popular idols in Korea as hers are going to come with challenges. Especially with you being a foreigner.

You three look at each other and back at Namjoon, silently agreeing to these terms. He also suggests you three need time together alone to get to know about each other because you all three had different lives leading up to today, and it would be best to figure out where you all should go from here. Other people’s feelings and relationships are going to be affected by what has happened and you all needed to be prepared for any backlash.

“Ok, now that this is all settled can we please get some dinner?” You hear from the other bed where apparently Yoongi has been napping throughout all the mental breakdowns.

To be continued...

Taglist: @mrcleanheichou @itsminniekat @dreamescapeswriting @seaoffangirling @4evahevah @sonderkook @bisexualmess007 @chxustuff @aviwasabi21 @skyys-universe @ally22042000 @ramblingsofawolfgirl

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pandajaye · 3 years

Text

Todoroki Family Ties (Part 7)

Characters: Enji Todoroki, Stepmom!OC!Ivy (Ivy is black btw), Child!Shoto Todoroki, Teen!Touya Todoroki

Warnings: child missing, dangerous criminals, mention of child murder, family abandonment

Enji and Ivy searched the entire property but Shoto was no where to be found. They called the police, Officer Tsukauchi alerted AllMight and Eraserhead and they were helping find him too. Even with them here, they were careful to keep quiet about the missing child of a Pro Hero. You never know what Villains could be looking for him too. The worst part of it was, the reason they needed pro hero help was because Shoto was the least dangerous person they were searching for today. The news reported that someone dangerous was out on the run and that only made Ivy’s heart sink lower. They figured they were fine since it was a private residence and Shoto was with a nanny, but she was gone too.

“We’re working hard to find him and the missing nanny, ma’am. I hate that this happened on the same day that a criminal broke out of jail. Is there any more information that you can give us about the boy or the woman?”

Tsukauchi must have been in a lot of situations where he had to show calmness towards civilians. His soft voice gave her a sense of peace, it was small but any was good.

“I-I.... I don’t know too much about her. She seems good with the kids. We just recently hired her last week and she’s been an angel. She has a very kind attitude for an older woman with a tattoo.”

“A tattoo? What did it look like? Can you describe it for me?”

Ivy thought hard about the image that was located on the woman’s hand. Enji didn’t agree with it but Ivy convinced him that since she wa so child friendly, the tattoo shouldn’t matter.

“It was a thin black circle with a cherry blossom inside. There was an ‘X’ on the right side of the circle. It was kind of wrinkled a long with her hand but I still thought it looked pretty cool.”

One of the officers that was standing in front of her drawing the description of the tattoo nodded to Tsukauchi. When he looked back at her, she could tell there was more of a hardness to his face. He turned to Enji and Allmight who had been standing next to them to observe.

“If it’s alright, I’d like to just speak to you two alone for a minute.”

They looked at each other before taking a step into the kitchen, away from where Ivy could hear.

“I’m afraid that the nanny may be involved in the disappearance of the boy. The tattoo that Mrs. Todoroki had described matched the same image of another womanms tattoo. They’re believe to be apart of a gang of Villains called the Withered Blossoms. Any crime scene these women have been apart of usually have young men unconscious or dead but with the appearance of someone who is old. Their victims also are left with no money. Apparently they use the youth from their victims to stay alive. There’s no telling how long they’ve been on this earth but we’ve managed to mostly keep them in jail. I’m not sure what they would want Shoto for. Either his youth, or ransom, but I know that we’ll do whatever it takes get him back and those women in maximum security prison.”

Toshinori thanked Mr. Tsukauchi before turning to look at Enji. His gaze was stuck on the ground, thinking about everything that was just explained. He was never one to really show emotion when anyone other than his family was around. Though he wasn’t sure if he’d even get a response, Toshi tried his best to communicate with Enji.

“Don’t worry. We’ll find your son. Everything will be fine.”

Enji scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“Who said I was worried? I know he’ll be okay. He’s a damn Todoroki, of course he’ll be okay.”

Toshi shook his head. He could see the worry on his face. It was written in his furrowed brows. The angry wrinkles on his face. No matter how he tried to hide it, this bothered him deeply.

“It’s not bad to have feelings. Your child is out in the big world and could be in danger. It looks more suspicious not showing worry.”

Enji sighed angrily and looked at Toshi. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, he was speaking some sense. He didn’t know why he was such a hard ass all the time. There was just a lot of frustration and rage inside of him. The expression on his face softened but he looked away from Toshi.

“You’re right. I’m very upset. That’s.... my youngest out there. He could be scared. He could be hurt. Or.... o-or....”

“Hey. We’re not going to think like that, alright? They’re doing everything they can, looking under every rock for these villains and your son. I have no doubt that we’ll get some good news soon.”

Toshi gave him a nod of reassurance and Enji returned it. They may not get along always but he was glad to have Toshi here to comfort him and Ivy.

Especially Ivy....

This family.... Enji.... the kids.... they meant a lot to her. She was the first person in her family to be born quirkless. They hoped she would grow up and eventually gain one, but, unfortunately, it never happened. When she was in high school, she came home that day to her bags packed and thrown out of the door. They constantly hounded her for not being able to become a pro hero so that she could make them rich. Since she seemed to give no value in their eyes, she was kicked out and forced to live on her own.

After years of hard work, she graduated high school, college, got a job, and did pretty good. All on her own. She met Enji when she was fired and found a job at his agency. Apparently his assistant before her couldn’t handle his explosive temper. The difference between her and Ivy was that she could afford to quit, but Ivy was barely making it and this paycheck could change everything for her.

It was hard. There was almost constant intimidation. The atmosphere of every meeting had tension and no one was brave enough to disturb it. And it only got worse after the incident with Rei Todoroki pouring hot water over her son’s face. There were many rumors that floated around. Even when the truth about Enji putting her in a mental hospital came out, everyone said it was a cover up and that he actually murdered her. Luckily, the world continued to go around.

The agency was fine but it was obvious that Enji wasn’t. There was an aggressiveness and darkness to him that no one had ever seen before. Everyone was afraid to speak to him outside of business but Ivy figured that maybe that’s what he was missing. Someone needed to check on him and something inside of her said that it should be her. It was her character flaw. Even though she’d been through so much, she always felt as if it was her job to take care of the beasts of the world. In her mind, all they needed was love and kindness.

One day, she gathered the courage to talk to him and see how he was doing. When she opened the door to his office, the lights were off. He was just sitting in his chair but facing towards the window. That morning he walked in a nice suit but not the jacket was on the back of his chair and his tie was loosened. He was just sitting there, his head leaning against his hand like he was just done with everything.

“Hello? Mr. Endeavor?”

“What is it?

“I-I wanted to talk about something. Are you busy?”

He sighed and dropped his hand, turning to look at her and permit her to enter before turning back to the outside world.

“Come in.”

She hurried in and closed the door behind her, quietly making her way over to the front of his desk.

“I wanted to check on you.... see how you were doing lately. I’m really worried about you, sir. You haven’t burned as brightly as you used to, so I’m here if you want to talk about anything. I’m sorry if I’m bothering you in anyway, sir.”

When he didn’t respond, she walked to be in his line of sight. He looked so tired. There were bags under his eyes and a sad frown that looked as if it’s been there forever and would never leave. It broke her heart to see him so depressed. She decided to leave. He probably was being nice by not telling her to get out immediately.

“I hope your day gets better, sir...”

Ivy only took a single step before she was stopped, her small wrist in his large hand. When she looked at him, there were streaks of tears on his cheeks.

Suddenly, he pulled her to him and hugged her waist. She could feel him trembling.

“S-She’s gone.... she’s gone.... a-and it’s m-my fault-t.”

Enji’s grip on her tightened and she started to relax. He needed her in that moment and it was necessary that she was there for him.

“It’s going to be okay, sir. It’s going to be alright.”

They talked for a long time. He avoided questions about Rei but she didn’t mind. There were lots of emotions in the room. Maybe it was the sudden opportunity to be vulnerable or how she comes off as a trustworthy person, but he was quick to let her in. He admitted that this was one of the very few times that he made a connection with someone at work. He really appreciated her bravery and that she wanted to actually talk to him.

This was the beginning of their relationship. From coworkers to friends to friends to lovers. Oh how sweet it sounds. Even if it wasn’t always sweet, especially after they were married. So quickly at that. However, it was obvious that they were soulmates. The conflicts weren’t because of her, it was his toxicity. A toxicity that healed when they were together, it heals slowly, but progress is progress.

Now here they were. Enji holding Ivy as her emotions were trying to control themselves. That’s when they got the call from Toshinori. Ivy put her phone on speaker so Enji could hear too.

“We’ve found Shoto and the criminal. We’re bringing your boy home.”

A huge weight felt lifted off of the couple’s shoulders. Enji held onto Ivy as she cried into his chest. Since his hands were preoccupied with holding her, he couldn’t quickly wipe the tears out of his eyes and instead just lowered his face to kiss the top of Ivy’s head.

Shoto was back home within a few hours after an interrogation with the police. The woman had never mentioned anything about what he would be used for, she lured him with the lie that she would take him to see Rei. It made Enji and Ivy furious to find out that someone would make up such a terrible lie to kidnap a child and he vowed to find the rest of the group so they couldn’t hurt anyone else.

After dinner, and putting the kids to bed, Enji received a phone call from a number he didn’t immediately recognize and excused himself to go outside to answer it.

“We need to talk about Natsuo and Fuyumi soon. I believe it’s time that they come home.”

He recognized the voice immediately. Rei’s mother. The current guardian of his other two children.

#todoroki family ties #bnha au #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #endeavor #enji #dabi #touya #shoto #todoroki #endeavor x black!reader #endeavor x reader #enji x black!reader #enji x reader #enji todoroki #touya todoroki #shoto todoroki #bnha #mha

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mooshs-crack-headcanons · 3 years

Note

How would the DMC brothers (+ V) be with a full demon S/O?

Dante

Demons can have human emotions, Dante knows that better than anyone, he's seen it happen more than once; like devils crying. Demons can learn to love and feel what humans feel, so why should you be any different? Human or not to him it doesn't matter, if he loves you then he loves you and that's it.

But that's not saying that he doesn't find having a demon partner not cool or anything though, the complete opposite of that! It's badass having someone more closer to his level at his side, and deep down it takes away a lot of the stress of having to keep looking over his shoulder to always make sure that a human partner would be safe. With you being a demon and fighting to protect yourself is in your blood, he has nothing to worry about (but still Dante being Dante there's always a tiny bit of worry he keeps hidden away)

He is absolutely blown away at the sight of your devil trigger! His exact word being:

"God damn, baby! And you said my trigger had a great ass?!"

Your sudden clawed hand across his jaw, which in your human form would barely hurt him for a few seconds, stung him for days.

When the rare occasion when no one else is around the shop and customers are guaranteed not to show up during the day Dante lets a bit of his inner demon out and does what normal demon mates do: nesting. Now his bed is not that big, sure it can fit two average human sized people but it struggles to fit two devils. So the two of you, both in trigger (him preferably for your comfort not Sin Trigger) will both squeeze together as comfortably as the two of you can get in bed and just...pet each other. Yeah. It's very common for demon mates to groom each other, not like cats and lick each other (but I mean that's another choice if you want, I'm not judging 👀) but just run your crawled hands up each other and just...take each other in, basically how demons cuddle by feeling each other's power and stuff, it's quite comforting actually.

There have been most definitely instances where the two of you have both been stabbed by the same sword or something

With your demonic blood being more on par with his, Dante can have more of all balls out training sessions, not on the same level as those with Vergil but more than he normally can do with Nero, Lady, or any other more human-like training partners. Training sessions with you are more like those with Trish and Lucia, other demons, and depending on how strong you are possibly even further than that with both of you scrapping and slicing away at each other in the strongest versions of your DT.

Fights are the number one way for demons to calm themselves. So after your (very violent, but somehow friendly and maybe a little flirty?) spars the two of you will faze back into your human forms and flop on the ground (usually the rooftop of Devil May Cry) and lay in each other's arms complementing moves each other did, heads finding their way into chests and hands brushing at whatever previous that were already healed with healing factor before finding yourselves passionately at each other's lips with all the time in the world seemingly meaningless as the two of you lose yourselves for the rest of the night.

Vergil

Vergil is always one who is attracted by strength whether it be physical or mental, so it's no surprise that he would eventually find himself interested in being with a demon partner, he always did find humans to be more complicated anyway.

Like with Dante, Vergil is quite relieved with your instinctive ability to protect yourself so he doesn't have to keep watch over you 24/7, you're perfectly strong to fend for yourself and he 100% respects that.

Of course, given that have demonic power he's going to want to spar with you, that most of his idea of a 'date' anyway knowing him, and you often don't mind given the natural spark that goes through your blood when it comes to a fight. Vergil isn't the one to be mostly focused on looks, although yes he will admit you are very beautiful with your appearance as well, but he finds strength even more beautiful so it's not a surprise that he finds your trigger to be one of the most beautiful things on earth. The very first few spars you had went on for countless hours just because he desperately wanted to learn everything you could do with it and the two of you got some pretty decent bonding out of it as well.

Oh course the whole thing with Mundus is a pretty touchy subject, especially post 5 after him finally in his true and restored self after the whole Nelo Angelo experience and everything that followed it, and with demon having extremely long lifespans the conversation, even before the two of you get together, of where your alliance was is going to come up at some point. Given your status of working alongside Dante and the others at Devil May Cry, the answer should be obvious but to Vergil it means quite a lot to him given that a complete demon such as yourself would be working alongside a bunch of hybrids and humans to defend humanity and defy your master (your master who’d tortured him for decades), just like his father did. He’s heard Trish’s story from bits and pieces she told him as V and the rest Dante shared with him, but your unknown story deeply intrigues him and when you do get around to telling it and how you were hunted down and almost killed hundreds of times for your betrayal for many years I’d like to say that was the point that he truly started to feel a little small something for you.

He also likes watching when you square off against Dante. Since and his brother have much drastic differences in fighting styles and that it makes sense that you if you’re able to properly stand a match against one brother that you’d be able to fight with the other, so he likes watching how differently that you fight against his brother and even takes notice of you pulling off very different things he would’ve never though of doing against him and you even see him doing new moves similar to yours the next time you see the twins fight.

Vergil has always found human emotions...hard to deal with. So on days he’s feeling frustrated, whether it be because of his brother or his attempts to get connected with Nero being unsuccessful, he likes spending time with you in devil trigger either sparring to just being near one another to let his demon calm himself down.

V, like Vergil, finds strength really attractive. So what if you're a demon? To him that matters very little, not too long after the two of you have met has he already found two of Blake's works that you remind him of (You're a fucking dork, V)

Normally demons he has seen and personally been put up against always seem to fight with this feral clumsiness that has no sense of class to it, you on the other hand seem to fight with all the grace in the world with your devil trigger. V feels taken aback and mesmerized everytime he sees it, how you seem to float effortlessly through air like a leaf in the wind as you dodge and repel every attack sent your way. In these little dazes, it's usually Griffon that has to snap him out of it with a very loud: "Okay! Time to wake up Romeo!" That usually almost makes V lose the grip on his cane and fall before Shadow had to rush over and help him not tip over. Whenever this happens V always gets an interesting shade of pink on his face after he's really taken a moment to realize his fawning over you.

Speaking of his familiars, they sure love being around you! Because their master is in head over heels for you? Eh, partly, but most importantly it's because whenever they're around you they get a power boost off your demon energy, which may be because of the type of demon you are, or it just comes from your emotional bond with V, your choice. So expect most times when Griffon and Shadow are out of their tattoos they swarm over to you and cuddle on over next to you, with Griffon sitting in your lap, Shadow laying up against your leg making the occasional biscuit motion on your thigh, and if V has made his place leaning against your side as he reads his book you might hear the occasional pleased sounding rumble of Nightmare from his hair.

V would never keep secrets from his s/o, human or not, I feel that he would tell you ahead of time during 5 what's going to eventually happen to him and with you being a demon and understanding this more than any human would and I feel like that would be an even more sense of comfort and a little less to worry about and the two of you could just focus on the time that's left.

V is fairly fragile, even in human standards, his body can’t take much making him rely mostly on his familiars to do physically hard tasks for him. So with you being a demon that means you’re without a doubt stronger than him meaning not only can you save his ass in moments that not even his contacted demons can help him that much but also you’re going to have to watch your own strength and make sure you don’t accidentally hurt him doing something like holding too tightly on his hand or something.

Like I said before, V is absolutely entranced by the form of your devil trigger and he likes you in the late hours of the night trigger so he can mindlessly trace the rough or soft feeling of your triggered skin as he finally is able to let himself drift off to sleep.

If you like what you read please consider reblogging! It means the world for writers and artists!

#devil may cry #devil may cry x reader #dante x reader #vergil x reader #v x reader #mine #dante sparda #vergil sparda #v dmc

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xpao-bearx · 3 years

Text

Part 1 HERE

NOTE: OMG I really wasn't expecting for the previous first part of Heavenly Sins to blow up as it did, but I just wanted to give a huuuge THANK YOU to all of you amazing folks!! 🥰🥰🥰 Your support truly means so fooken much to trashy ol' meh and y'all are the reason I am writing this story series in the first place :')

I do have my ideas, but I still don't know much yet of what to do or even how long (or short) this story will get. So, if you would continue to give me your mindblowing support, it would seriously mean the W O R L D.

I do, however, very much enjoy writing Negan in particular so far. He's one of my absolute fave characters ever and JEFFREY DEAN FUCKIN' MORGAN NEED I SAY MOAR?!? 🥵💕💕

But this second part will be focusing a bit more on our beloved sheriff Ricky boi! Of course, Daryl will also get some much deserved love and attention tho I think he will appear in the story a lil later on.

Also, if you ever feel compelled, you are more than welcome to take some inspo from this story and make your own imagines and such! I'd love to see 'em, so please tag me 😁

P.S. There won't always be long ass notes like this, only if I wanna say something or bring up whatever is important. Also, if you wanna be tagged on any new/future story parts, then just tell moi and I will dedicate the latest one to the people who wanted to be tagged!

DEDICATED TO: The wonderful @buttercandy16 💖

"Heavenly Sins"

Part 2

After your little spiel, you haven't spoken to Negan since then. But on the way home after church, you passed by his house and found him tinkering away on his motorcycle (which you previously learned he interestingly named Lucille) in the garage. Not being able to help yourself, you paused in your tracks and just curiously watched him for a while.

His leather jacket was off, revealing a plain white t-shirt. The shirt was quite tight, and you noted how it perfectly hugged the taut muscles of his chest. Your eyes then slowly trailed to his toned arms, adorned by tattoos you wished you had a better look at. He stopped briefly, placing his tools down before grabbing the hem of his shirt and wiping the sweat on his forehead.

You didn't even think twice as your eyes dropped, hyperfocused on his abs. He wasn't the buffest guy out there, but he was lean and fit and--to put it bluntly--hot. A part of you screamed bloody murder to get a grip on yourself, to just turn your stiff body around and proceed on home. But another part completely squashed down those protests without even a fight; as if your pathetic excuse of a resolve wasn't even meant in the first place.

"Take a goddamn picture, darlin'. It'll last longer."

Your head snapped up, meeting the tantalizing hazel stare of Negan. His lips were curled in a smug smirk, and nevermore in your entire life have you wanted to both slap and kiss someone so badly.

But you only clicked your tongue, shooting him a sharp glare before (at last!) turning and walking away as you hid your blush. In the distance, his amused chuckle begrudgingly sounded like the sweetest fucking music to your ears.

♡♡♡

You woke up at 7:05 a.m. like you typically did the next morning, Monday. It was the dawn of a new week, and while most people dreaded it you actually didn't mind it so much. You had your job to thank for that.

Sure, it wasn't always easy, but it was worth it in the end. You loved teaching and spending time with the children, and you were even more ecstatic since you knew Judith was going to be at the daycare.

As you finished eating breakfast and preparing for the day, you grabbed your bag then went out the door. You opted to walk again today, the weather far too beautiful to miss plus the daycare really wasn't that far away.

Eventually arriving at your destination, you approached the daycare building's doors with a little spring in your step. Once inside, a young woman with her blonde hair high in a ponytail smiled and waved.

"Hi, Y/N! Goodmorning!" Beth Greene greeted energetically.

"Morning, Beth." You chuckled, the girl's radiant smile infectious. You've known Beth for some time now, especially since the Greenes were one of the oldest families in Alexandria and they were well respected. But you got along best with Beth, you thought she was the friendliest and she was also the latest hire of the daycare.

Stashing your bag away in your personal locker, you fixed yourself up a bit before getting your nametag and sticking it on your top. Looking up at the wall clock, you read that it was 7:50 a.m. Perfect, just in time for the kids' drop-offs.

You waited outside with Beth and the rest of the daycare workers, until finally the parents started rolling in. It was the usual; some of the children were wailing, snot snivelling down their nose as their embarrassed parents tried to tug them away from clinging onto their legs. You could only offer a sympathetic smile as you tried to help, while other children were much more relaxed and didn't even spare a second glance at their parents as they were dropped off.

"Well, that's about all of them." Beth piped up.

"Wait, we're still waiting for Judith." You said, searching for the toddler. "Rick said she'd be here."

Beth checked her watch, her brows creasing a little in worry. "That's odd. Sheriff Grimes is never late when he's dropping Judith off."

Just as she said that, there was a honk that disrupted the peace. You and Beth both spotted a crying Judith being held by Lori, the woman appearing utterly exhausted before her eyes locked with yours and didn't waste another second dashing towards you.

"Please don't run when you're holding Judith. Also, no honking is allowed on the premises." It was hard for you to keep the malice out of your voice, but you mentally gave yourself a pat on the back since you miraculously managed to not make it sound the worst it could get.

Lori raised a brow at you, but only handed Judith over to you. Judith immediately quieted down when she saw it was you, you cooing gently at her as she giggled and snuggled up comfortably against your chest.

"Rick will be picking her up later." Was all Lori said, pressing a quick peck on Judith's curly little head before parting ways. As Lori rushed back to the car, you saw Shane in the driver's seat shamelessly attack her neck with fervent kisses and you couldn't restrain an eyeroll.

"Fucking bitch..." You grumbled.

"Uh-oh. Bad!" Judith giggled again, clapping her hands gleefully.

"Right, right. Bad. Don't copy me, okay?" You laughed, completely forgetting about your aggravation as you rubbed your nose with Judith's and went inside.

♡♡♡

The rest of the day rolled along splendidly. No one threw a tantrum and for the most part, all the kids properly shared the wide assortment of toys and even did their activities orderly and on time. So, you decided to indulge them with a small yet much sought after reward.

Painting.

When it comes down to children, painting can be utter chaos. But you figured since they were being so good, you'd allow it. At the daycare you worked in, painting was quite a rare occurrence and that only solidified how much the kids adored it.

Once the materials were set out, it was a dizzying flurry of excited hands grabbing anything it could latch on to. As the kids went about doing their creative business, you found Judith all alone sitting in the corner playing around with some blocks.

"Whatcha doin' there, Judi?" You asked, sweetly calling out her nickname. "You don't wanna paint?"

"I wanna, but not with papers." She replied, shaking her head.

"Oh? Then where do you wanna paint?"

"I wanna paint on faces, but no one wants me to!"

"If that's the case, then I'd be more than happy to let you paint my face." You smiled.

"Really?!" Judith's whole face lit up, jumping up and wrapping her tiny arms around you as tightly as she could. "Thank youuu!"

You chuckled, ruffling her hair and watching as she happily gathered some paint and brushes.

♡♡♡

It was finally the end of a long day, and your face felt a bit itchy from the paint Judith put on you. But it didn't matter; as long as the little girl was happy, it was the best damn day ever.

You were holding Judith's hand as you waited outside for Rick to pick her up, and once he came up with his car Judith beamed.

"Daddy!"

"Hello, sweetheart. Did you have a nice day?" His face looked tired, his greying beard making him appear slightly older than he really was, but his smile was genuine as he carried Judith in his strong arms.

"The bestest! Y/N lemme paint her face!"

"She did, huh? What did you pai--oh my god."

You bursted into laughter at his reaction, flashing him a toothy grin. "In the words of Judi: You're a pretty tiger! Grr!"

"Now that you mention it, I can see it." Rick joined in your laughter, nodding his head. "Looks like we've got a talented lil artist in our hands!"

"Daddy, I wanna paint your face next! You can be daddy tiger and Y/N can be mommy!" Judith proclaimed.

You and Rick flushed pink at the same exact time, but Rick was quick to clear his throat and change the topic. "A-Anyways, Y/N, how 'bout me and the kids give you a ride? Thank you for today, by the way."

"No problem, and sure! Thanks so much."

As you settled in the passenger's seat, two hands covered your eyes from behind. "Guess who~?"

"Hmm..." You hummed, making a show of thinking. "Are you an elf?"

"No!" The hands were removed, Carl popping his head out from the backseat to look at you as he laughed. "It's me!"

"Oh, sorry! You're just so short, I thought you were an elf." You teased good naturedly.

Carl huffed, sticking his tongue out at you. "Y'know, in a few years, I'll be way taller than you!"

Once Rick was done buckling Judith into her carseat, he took his place in the driver's seat and drove out of the premises. You just talked about anything that came to mind: work, the weather, Alexandria's local shops, etc. To anyone else, maybe it seemed like regular boring conversation. But speaking with Rick was truly one of the highlights of any of your days. He was extremely easy to talk to, and he never failed to cheer you up. And it was obvious Rick was the same. He was allowed to simply be himself around you; to loosen up, momentarily forget about the stress and sometimes even the woes that came along with being the town's upstanding sheriff.

As you were nearing your home, Carl decided to cut in.

"Y/N, can we stay at your house? It's been a while since we had a sleepover." Carl asked, his baby blue eyes identical to Rick's alight with hope.

It wouldn't be the first time Rick and the kids would be staying over. You were very close to the Grimes family, sometimes even almost considering them as your own. You didn't mind it. Since you lived alone, it can get pretty lonely. And having people around surely brightened up the house and made you keep your sanity.

"I don't mind, but you gotta ask your dad." You chuckled.

Carl turned to Rick, pouting and giving his best puppy dog eyes. Rick rolled his eyes, but couldn't suppress an inkling of a smile.

"Yeah, yeah. But let me drop you and Judith off with Y/N first. I'll be back, I just need to get some extra clothes and essentials."

"YAY!" Carl cheered, Judith following suit as they both raised their arms and hollered.

"You're so whipped for them." You laughed, shaking your head as you looked at Rick.

"I ain't denying that." He sighed dramatically, grinning.

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crushing-on-nico-di-angelo · 3 years

Text

Okay, here's the actual chapter 3

7 Nights in Cabin 13

Nico took a small step backwards. “I’m sorry,” Will hesitated. “I shouldn’t have asked you, I know you probably don’t want to and--”

“Hey, woah, I never said I didn’t want to. I was just shocked. Not everyday I get asked to sleep with someone-- I- I mean… you know what I mean.”

Will giggled. “So does this mean you do want to?”

“...Yeah. I guess it does.”

Read (and maybe give kudos?) on ao3

~~~~

Lying in Nico’s bed, side by side, wasn’t as awkward as Will thought it would be. The comforter was very comforting and warm. The warmth of Nico made his heart beat faster, he hadn’t slept next to anyone since he was about seven years old having a nightmare about goats and crawled into his mami’s bed.

Nico turned to him, so Will made the necessary adjustments.

“I hope you don’t mind that I kept the window open. The light… helps.”

“I’m the son of Apollo, Neeks. I don’t mind at all.” Nico’s face softened. Will stared at his eyes, and he swore there was a universe of activity and stars in a dark brown expanse. He was lost in trying to pinpoint every constellation that he didn’t notice Nico’s hand reaching for his hair until he felt the tentative ruffle.

“Ah, sorry. I can stop if you’d like. Bianca…” Nico cleared his throat. “Bianca used to do this to me when I was having trouble sleeping.”

“Don’t stop,” Will murmured, once again feeling the effects of sleepiness. “Please.”

Nico closed his eyes and continued softly playing with Will’s hair. Will was simultaneously hyper-aware of how nice it felt to have someone play with his hair and extremely at peace, letting sleep overtake him.

A wedding. Drinking gasoline. Pain in his right leg. Silence; eternal, deafening silence.

When Will opened his eyes, he was acutely aware of the hand resting on his head. A bit of drool was pooled underneath his chin, but how could he move when Nico was still asleep holding his head? Nothing to do now but stay still and think.

Alright Solace… I’ve been putting it off too long. How did I get here? …Nathan is how. But I don’t want to think about him. Which is fine, because I haven’t seen him in years, so I can’t exactly pin this on him. How did I get here now? ...I got into my head again is how.

He remembers it, his relapse, but not exactly.

He was showing Clarisse how to complete an advanced archery move. He may not have been the best in comparison to his siblings, but he and Clarisse had been best friends after the Battle of Manhattan. They had gotten clean together. He had to help her with the archery.

But then. The way he positioned Clarisse’s arm. He remembered that was exactly how Fletcher positioned his. He remembered Michael doing the same for other campers. He finished teaching Clarisse the move and left to go to the showers.

He pushed the thought out of his mind-- or, he tried to. He couldn’t think of anything at all, and his breathing was getting so, so heavy. He turned on the water to hide the noises he was making, hyperventilating. They were dead, they were dead, and he knew they were dead. Why couldn’t he get it through that thick skull of his? He knew they were dead he saw it happen, saw the bridge collapse. But it was all he could think of, all just looping through his mind, over and over and over. No release. No end in sight to the looping thoughts. Breathing breathing breathing only not in the way he was supposed to. Suffocating on too much air and not enough oxygen.

And then the dysphoria kicked in.

His chest hurt. His chest hurt so fucking much. In addition to the binding he was doing, he was breathing so, so hard. He wanted to take the binder off, but his clothes were too wet and it was stuck. Thoughts looping, never stopping. Dead, dead, dead. Never going to be a real man. The sound of the explosion being nothing and everything to him all at once. Losing the first person to help him. Wanting so badly to hurt himself but having nothing to do so with. And then remembering what he did in the following months.

He let the water of the shower run over his soaked clothes while he focused on what he did after they died. The Hypnos cabin, they helped him forget it, but in the wake of his panic attack he remembered where he put them.

The last of his stash.

The next thing he knew, he was frantically searching for pennies with a flashlight in a camp that didn’t even use American currency-- his mind finally off his dead siblings-- at midnight outside of the Hades cabin. And thank Zeus for that.

...He was a weak person. As soon as things got tough, he went with the convenient solution. He’d always been a bad friend and a bad son because of it, and he likely always would be. Things got better for a bit, but looking at himself now? How could he ever think of himself as a good person after this, when it’s clear that he’ll always be fucking… weak like this….

This wasn’t something he was going to forgive himself for anytime soon. Not at all. Especially not for concerning Nico like this. He could have handled himself.

Could I have handled myself? he wondered. Nico shifted in his sleep, his arm now draping over Will’s shoulder. Does it even matter right now? It’s too late to change it.

He tried to settle into sleep again, but he found that he couldn’t. He also didn’t want to think anymore about what happened to get him here in the first place, when he could be messing around with his friends and cabin-mates while canoeing. He could be trying for the camp record on the lava wall. He could be doing a million things… but he fucked it up. Gods, he already said he didn’t want to think about it. So why was he?

He sighed softly, not wanting to disturb Nico. He snuggled into Nico’s embrace, not realizing how close they had gotten when they were asleep. His nose was nearly touching Nico’s and he noticed the faint freckles splashed over his nose and under his eyes. They were so light that you had to be inches away to notice them, but Will suspected that he would only notice them from now on. Just like his eyes, Will felt compelled to trace out constellations.

Will had posters and posters back in his home in Austin about stars and space exploration. He memorized constellations and had a hyperfixation on planets from ages seven to eleven. He still had all of that knowledge in his head, and it was remarkable to him how many constellations he found on Nico’s face. He pulled one of his hands from under the covers and started going over them, trying not to touch Nico’s face. He did lightly trace Nico’s nose, and was surprised when Nico didn’t even stir. He started feeling more and more relaxed, tracing what was almost the big dipper; he eventually fell asleep again with his hand cupping Neek’s cheeks.

He dreamt rough dreams, but was fortunate enough to wake up not remembering any of them.

~~~~~~

Will woke up and felt an absence of warmth. He saw Nico leaning against the doorframe, his silhouette framed by the hall light. He stood there, unmoving. Will would have wondered if he had fallen asleep again if not for the fact that he was standing fully upright. Nico knocked gently on the wood of the frame before walking away. Will wondered what that was all about but didn’t want to ask. He stood from the bed and walked to Nico’s bathroom to splash his face. He stood up and was hit with dizziness. There was a clock by Nico’s bed which read ‘8 P.M.’

“Ah,” he murmured himself. “That’s it.”

He fell asleep with Nico at around noon, which meant he hadn’t eaten in nearly 8 hours. He shivered from the cold. He grabbed a jacket hanging from the bed and walked out.

“Hey, Neeks,” Will felt a bit odd. They had been so intimate with each other earlier, he wondered if that would make things awkward between them.

“Hello, William. How’d you sleep?” Nico seemed to not mind, so Will decided to play it cool.

“Alright. I dreamt, so…”

Nico chuckled. “So not the best it could have been. I made us pot pie, it’s in the oven right now.”

“Holy shit, deathboy. You always cook so much?” Nico smiled and shook his head.

“Just felt like it lately, I suppose. It’s almost ready, grab a seat.”

~~~~~

After about an hour of eating and delirious laughter, it suddenly came to light that Nico had never played 20 questions.

“What the hell do you mean you’ve never played?” Will was incredulous. “Didn’t you used to go to boarding school?” Nico was still grinning from the laughter.

“Well, yes but I was around 10 years old! I didn’t play games like that.” Will shook his head in disbelief.

“We’re remedying that today, di Angelo.”

“How do you play?”

“I ask you a question, you answer it, and then you ask me and I answer. The cycle continues until we each ask 20 questions.”

Nico hummed to himself. “Is anything off-limits?”

Will knew what he didn’t want him to ask, but instead said, “On my end? No. Is there anything you don’t want me to ask you?”

“...I suppose not.”

“Alright. Feel free to say ‘skip’ for any question. No big deal, I’ll just ask a new one.”

“Alright. Do you go first or me?”

Will always liked to ask the same question during 20 questions. “If you had the chance to have dinner with anyone, living or dead, who would it be?”

“Hm…” Nico took a deep breath. “Does my mother count?”

Will’s breath hitched. “She-- she does,” Treat it normal, Solace. “She seems like she’d be a good choice. She died in the 50’s?”

“30’s, actually. Right before I was moved to the Lotus Hotel.”

“...Oh. I’m sorry, Nico.” Nico waved him off.

“It’s fine, I was little. There’s just… so much I wish I knew, you know?”

“For sure…” Gods, this poor kid. “Still, I’m sorry. You were just a kid.”

“Yeah, well. Anyway. My turn, right?”

Will could tell that conversation was over, so he nodded.

“What’s your tattoo?” Nico asked, to which Will smiled.

“It’s… here.” He pulled down his shirt enough for the sun to show. Nico leaned forward to get a closer look.

“It’s really pretty. I saw it on that first night after you showered. Why did you get it?”

“Lee Fletcher.”

“Lee Fletcher? Who’s that?”

And who was Lee Fletcher? Lee Fletcher was the man who meant everything to Will. He had a mom and two sisters, and no father. Lee Fletcher was the first guy in his life to act as a guardian to him. He was four years older and always acted as an older brother even before Will knew that Lee was a guy. Lee taught Will archery and how to talk to girls. Later, Lee would teach him to talk to boys. Lee was powerful and smart. He was so, so brave. He would heal people just by singing to them. He was everything that Will wanted to be.

After he died, Will was inconsolable. Of course, during the war he was fine. He was cool and collected: a healer, the child of Apollo. But after? He started sneaking out more, trying to escape everything and everyone. Started drinking more… that’s when he met Nathan. He knew that wasn’t the question, though. Lee Fletcher, the memory of Lee Fletcher, is what kept him going through the darkest time in his life. He owed the world to him.

“Lee Fletcher… well…”

#i pinkie promise this is the real one #fanfiction #7 nights in cabin 13 #seven nights in cabin thirteen #lee fletcher #will solace #apollo cabin #hades cabin #nico di angelo #solangelo #solangelo fic #multichapter fic #fanfic #fic #ao3 #archive of our own #writing

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roads-rise-to-meet-me · 3 years

Text

Character Bio: Valkyrie

Saw this fun looking thing going around and decided I wanted to do it myself! Tagging @johnnysilverhandsimpressivecock and anyone else who scrolls on by and wants to take part!

General

Name: Juliette Serrano Aliases/Nicknames: Valkyrie. It was the alias she started going by exclusively when she arrived in Night City; a result of her not wanting to let herself get too close to her work. Eventually, it became more like her real name, and even after she started rolling Nomad again, it was what she preferred to be called. Gender: Female Age: 27 (As Of 2077) Birthdate: 7/11/2050 Place of Birth/Hometown: Valkyrie’s exact place of birth is unknown, as she was born into a Wraith camp out in the Badlands somewhere. Sexual Preference: Bisexual Occupation: Night City Mercenary/Nomad

Appearance

Eye Color: Brown. She does have Kiroshi optics, but voted to keep their natural color instead of changing it to something else. Hair Color: Blonde Height: 6′0 Scars: Too many to count honestly. She has scars all over her body; the result of everything from stab wounds to road burn. The most prominent, however, is the one across her forehead, and she didn’t have that when she first arrived in Night City. That wound was sustained on the night of the botched heist at Konpeki Plaza from a large shard of broken glass.

Favorite

Color: Sky Blue Hair Color: She tends to be attracted to people with a darker hair color, but it’s far from a requirement. Song: Valk’s favorite artist of all time is Tom Petty, and her top song from him has got to be Mary Jane’s Last Dance. After that comes every other song Tom Petty has. She enjoys Samurai as well, and listened to a lot of their music in her teen years. Food: She enjoys nothing more than whatever food she can cook over a campfire, especially since she can control exactly how much burn it has. Valkyrie likes her meals scorched. Drink: Cinnamon whiskey is Valkyrie’s alcohol of choice, but if she isn’t in the mood to get drunk, she really enjoys lemonade.

Have They?

Passed University: No. Valkyrie has a high school level education at most. She was mostly educated within the Bakkers clan, but sometimes if there was a public school nearby, her adoptive mother would enroll Valk and her brothers there to try to get them to socialize with other kids outside of the camp. It didn’t really work out that way though, as they preferred to raise all kinds of hell within the school and sleep around with the other kids. Had Sex: Yes. Valkyrie can be best described as being hedonistic, so she’ll actively seek out anything that can bring her pleasure. Often times, it’s another person. Had Sex In Public: Yes. It’s actually more of a surprise when she has sex in private. Gotten Pregnant: Yes! Twice actually! Neither time was planned! Kissed A Boy: Yes. Kissed A Girl: Yes. Gotten Tattoos: Yes. Valkyrie has some pretty extensive floral and geometric tattoos across her chest, upper arms, and back. Gotten Piercings: Yes. She had some when she was a teen, but she stopped wearing them in years ago. By now they have more than likely closed up. Been In Love: Yes. Stayed Up For More Than 24 Hours: She’s done this many times. The entire time she was in Night City she very rarely got any sleep, and was often running on stimulants and fumes.

Are They?

A Virgin: Absolutely not. A Cuddler: Yes. Obnoxiously so. Valkyrie is very big on physical affection and contact. If you just need someone to crush you with their full body weight, Valk is your girl. A Kisser: Yes. Again, she loves physical affection. Scared Easily: Not really. Valk is actually fairly bombproof. But if you’re actively attempting to scare her, and catch her off guard, you can still expect her to jump a few feet in the air and yelp. Jealous Easily: No. Valk in a relationship always feels pretty secure, and is trusting of her partner. Dominant: Valk is a complete and total switch, but she definitely leans more towards dominance. Submissive: If you earn it, yes. But don’t think you’re gonna be spared from her being a brat. In Love: Yes. She’s very happy with her SO. Single: Nope. Happily taken, and is more than content in being exclusive.

Random Questions? (TW Self Harm/Suicide Mention)

Have They Harmed Themselves: No. Thought Of Suicide: No. Attempted Suicide: No. Wanted To Kill Someone: Yes, and she has killed before, but that has mainly been because it was a part of a gig, in self defense, or in defense of a friend or an ally. Have/Had A Job: As a merc and a Nomad, Valk’s entire life has consisted of her doing gig type work; performing hits in the city and construction or smuggling jobs out on the road. She’s also worked on a few farms for their planting and harvest seasons, and much prefers that over anything else. Have Any Fears: Valk only really thrives in a communal setting, and thus has major issues with abandonment and loneliness. She doesn’t take it well when she loses someone she’s close to. She can also get a little claustrophobic when she’s in an enclosed place for extended periods of time.

Family?

Sibling(s): Valkyrie has one biological brother, and three adoptive ones. Parent(s): Valkyrie’s biological parents were a couple within a Wraith camp, and she knows absolutely nothing about them. The people she calls mom and dad are the husband and wife that adopted her as their own when she was brought as an infant to the Bakkers camp. Children: Valkyrie has a son and a daughter, Kaito and Signe-Lynn. Valkyrie decided she wanted a kid after she got married, but Kaito was a honeymoon baby, and she had not been anticipating having a child that early on. After he was born, Valkyrie had decided she was content with just one. But 18 months later, fate proved to have other plans, and Signe-Lynn came along as Valk’s second and final child. Significant Other: Goro Takemura! It was a rocky and uncertain road getting to marriage and two kids after everything the two of them went through, but Valk considers every second of the struggle to be worth it...And she thinks he’s even more handsome these days with his hair down, a riding jacket, and a little bit of dust. Pet(s): Valkyrie ended up taking in Nibbles after V moved in with Kerry, but the cat quickly became more like Goro’s pet. Valk’s companion is a male Afghan Hound she ‘liberated’ from some stuffy corpo’s penthouse. Now Flash has more room to run than he knows what to do with, and his favorite pastime is sticking his head out the car window and letting the wind ruffle his long flowing locks.

#cyberpunk 2077 #cyberpunk oc: juliette 'valkyrie' serrano #female v #nomad v #ship: dust devils

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thejooncrew · 4 years

Text

shirts and staircases

college roommate jungkook x reader (word count: 1.2k, now with proofreading)

based on this post

this one’s for you, @ladyartemesia

also, I’m probably gonna write another part involving smut I just wanted to pump this out while I still had the motivation much like jungkook will soon be pumping in and out of reader amiright

☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰

The house is quiet, which is rare when you live with 7 loud, boisterous, and occasionally nocturnal college boys. They must have left for that free breakfast down at Overland Hall, you muse as you groggily roll over in bed to check the time. Eight o’ clock—a time only a promised free breakfast could lure your boys out of bed and into the great wide world.

You’ll join them soon, of course, but you so rarely have the house to yourself that you have to seize any chance you get. Still a bit sleep-addled, you amble out of your room and across the hall to Jungkook’s room to creep.

Well, you don’t consider it creeping, because it’s not like you’re rifling through his drawers or reading his diary. And what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, right? He doesn’t need to know that his best friend sneaks into his room whenever she can possibly get away with it to steal clothes that smell like Downy and cotton and boyish good looks. Today, you’re hoping to snag one of those big oversized gray t-shirts that make him look oh-so cuddly during gaming nights.

You don’t bother with putting on pants or creeping around as you usually would—in hindsight, a bad idea. But in your sleep-addled state, you thought surely silence meant an empty house. And an empty house means walking around in a t-shirt and panties.

You feel a blush rise to your cheeks as you ease open Jungkook’s door and step inside. How many times have you fantasized about parading about in something lacy and borderline scandalous in front of him? Or perhaps plopping yourself in his lap during an intense session of Overwatch and demand his attention? Then maybe at last the dark look in his eye usually reserved for errant Sombra ults would at last be focused on you…

Focus! You make a beeline for his top dresser drawer. By sheer force of stubborn will, you’d sat Jungkook down one day and demanded he keep his room in some semblance of organization, and six months later, he was doing quite well. He’d long ditched folding, but at least he was keeping to his organizational system—and successfully avoided another “The Chair” situation. All the easier for you to whip the drawer open and rifle through your options.

“Aha!” you said aloud, triumphantly holding aloft your prize and promptly pressing it to your face. You breathed in deeply, letting out a soft moan as the distinct smell of Jungkook filled your nose. How many times had you basked in these scents as Jungkook held you in the throes of some exam-induced nervous breakdown, or as he was distracted by a movie you were all watching together in the living room? Jungkook may have smelled the same to everyone else, but to you, he smelled like comfort. Jungkook was soft musk and post-workout sweat. Jungkook was sweet toothy smiles with the little mole right under his lip. Jungkook was the muscles in his arm bulging as he carried your books home for you from lecture, and his new, devastatingly long hair he would casually flip out of his eyes to make girls walking by swoon. And you, of course, but he didn’t know that.

A deep sense of bitter longing and pent-up feelings filled your chest as tears welled in your eyes. No, this wouldn’t do. You couldn’t show up to the breakfast with red eyes, Jungkook would ask you what was wrong and you wouldn’t be able to tell him. Breathing heavily, you curled up on his unmade bed, closing your eyes and letting yourself imagine. For one sweet, bated breath, he was here next to you, his touch ghosting over your hips and your shoulders, his breath just tickling the nape of your neck. He was where you had always wished for him to be—curled up with you, just another couple hopelessly in love.

You didn’t quite know how long you spend just lying there, but it couldn’t have been long—it wasn’t until you pulled the shirt away from your face and took another breath that you realized you had been holding it. Bottle it up again, you know better, you chided yourself, reluctantly rolling out of bed for the second time this morning. You slipped Jungkook’s shirt over your head and headed downstairs to get a glass of water. Something to wake you up before heading for breakfast.

You have to pull yourself together, you tell yourself. You have at least two more years of this nonsense to get through, and if you keep going the way you are now, you’ll slip up eventually. You’ve long reconciled that you and Jungkook likely won’t ever end up together—he’s never shown interest, and you’re too worried about losing your friendship to dare hope for anything more. No, it has to stay this way: you, a pining, shirt-thieving coward, and Jungkook, standing in the doorway right by the stairs, gripping the doorframe and watching you come down the stairs in your panties with wide eyes.

Wait, what?

“Jungkook?!” you screech, hastily pulling down your—his—shirt to cover yourself. “What are you doing?”

“S-sorry!” he stammers, blushing and turning away. “I didn’t—well—what are you doing waltzing around without pants on?”

“I thought you guys had already left for the free breakfast!” you hissed.

“Well, most of us…Namjoon left his phone here again, so I came with him to get—” Jungkook squints at you. “Is that my shirt?”

“No!” you say instinctively. “Well—I mean—”

“It is,” he says incredulously, moving to get a closer look. “You’re the one stealing my shirts? I thought it was Tae!”

An odd look comes over his face right then. “Y/N, why are you stealing my shirts?”

“W-well…I…uh…” Laundry excuse won’t work, he helped you lug a fresh load of it upstairs just last night. “They…they, uh…”

“Come on, spit it out,” he urges. He’s so close to you now, cornering you against the wall.

“They…they smell like you…” You confess in a whisper.

“Oh? What’s this then? You like being covered in my scent?” You gulp as his voice suddenly takes on a husky tone, and you feel a jolt go down your spine and straight to your pussy as you look up into his eyes. You only ever see this Jungkook when he’s flirting with random girls at bars—the intenseness of his gaze, his hair falling forward to frame him in a way that is so knee-weakeningly sexy.

“I-it’s not like that…” you protest weakly. “I just…I think…”

“I know exactly what you think, sweetheart.” Oh, you’re in danger alright. Jungkook’s hand, those accursed tattooed digits of his, snake up your naked thigh and hover dangerously close to your ass. “I saw you in your room two weeks ago.”

You gasp and cover your mouth in horror. Two weeks ago, when you had thought Jungkook was occupied hanging out downstairs with the boys, and had taken it upon yourself to relieve some tension. You realize now that you can’t remember if you had closed your door properly…but you do remember moaning softly and calling out Jungkook’s name several times.

A triumphant shout comes from the dining room. “Kook, I found my phone! Let’s go!” Namjoon calls.

“You go on ahead,” Jungkook responds, his gaze never once leaving yours as his hand grabs your ass and squeezes it, drawing a muffled moan from you. “I think I’m going to start with a different kind of breakfast.”

#jeon jungkook #bts #bts jungkook #bts smut #bts jungkook smut #jungkook drabble #bts drabble #college au #jungkook college au #bucca's writing #shirts and staircases

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achliegh · 3 years

Note

Hi! I'd love to see the twins birthdays from the Olive and Otto prompt list. I love both characters!

Hello my Garbage Clan!

number 4. The twins birthdays (4-7 For right now)

Here it is, I hope you enjoy it!

I really enjoyed writing this one, it was fun!

TW/CW: Complete Chaos, Food, Just a mess, Mild breakdown, I feel like there is just always chaos with this family.

Characters belong to @lumosinlove

July 31st 2020

Leo was excited, probably more excited than his spawns. He was cooking up a storm in the kitchen, making all of the kids favorite foods. He was making an ice cream cake made of ice cream bars, whipped cream, chocolate chips and malt mix. It was his favorite thing for him when he was a small child and he knows the twins foam at the mouth for ice cream. Putting the cake back into the freezer he can’t stop smiling. He never thought anything of having kids until he and Ink started at the positive pregnancy test for a solid twenty minutes.

Now he couldn’t imagine his life without them, the kids were napping with his boyfriends and he took so many pictures it was probably what was causing his phone to tell him he’s out of storage. It was Olive and Logan on the bed the twins were occupying while staying with them, all starfished out and Logan was drooling with Olive was making the cutest little snoring noises. Ott and Finn had fallen asleep on the couch while Finn was reading to the little knucklehead. Book resting on their laps with Otto snuggled into Finn’s chest gripping his shirt.

How did he get so lucky?

Humming to the music in his one earphone so he didn't wake the chaos just yet, he heard the front door open. He looks up from where he was checking the sausages he was cooking. Waving silently and putting a finger to his lips signaled for Ink, June, Noelle and Thomas to be quiet. They were in charge of decorating, bright colors were the kids favorites. Olive has a heart for sports, literally any sport, while Otto is a sucker for drawing right now. That included on their white sweatshirts and walls.

So a coloring section was set up and all they could come up with for sports besides just going to the rink, which was closed due to updates to the frame, was WII games. Lame but so fun. She wanted to go rollerblading but the cat that is wandering around the apartment tells Leo she would try to bring home another animal.

After everything was set up and the apartment was full of hockey players in little party hats and anxious kids. They woke the chaos, and chaos was it. Olive was so shocked with all the people in the apartment she just turned around and closed the door behind her. After a few seconds she came back out and acted surprised causing a laugh from all the adults.

Otto was awoken by Finn laughing as twenty other kids climbed on top of him to wake them up. Otto smiled and flushed at all the attention. He got up and ran to Leo. Who picked him up and kissed his cheek.

“Happy Birthday Buddy” Otto buries his face into his neck still blushing hard. Especially when Celeste comes up and kisses both his cheeks. He has had a fascination with her since they first met at family skate.

“Kuny!” Olive sees her favorite person with his mouth full of pickles wrapped in prosciutto and basically tackles him to the ground while Nado and Ink laugh. They were discussing the new tattoo that Nado and Kuny want. Same but different.

Kuny hugs her and swallows the pickles before standing up and swinging her upside down like everyone knows she loves.

When it came to opening presents there were so many that Leo didn't know where they were all going to fit, besides in the third bedroom that isn’t ever used. When it came to Leo and Ink’s presents for the twins they were the very last ones.

Ink gave Otto her old sketchbook to draw in, all her old sketches were taken out, she also gave him a bunch of markers and told him they would be taken away if they found any marks on the walls. To Olive she gave her a brand new pair of roller skates. Bright green with black accents because Olive hasn’t stopped talking about Shego from Kim Possible.

Leo gave Otto a build-a-bear that was a lion and had the team saying they loved him, so he could take it to doctors appointments and anywhere else he wanted and he would always be loved. What they didn’t expect was for Otto to start crying, he was always a quiet little thing that kept to himself unless his social batter was on full. He also was really bad at controlling his emotions, but he is a small child so what do you expect. Otto sobbed into the lion and then looked at the team like they were the most amazing people in the world. Dumo held him while Ink talked to him softly and Leo gave Olive her give. Gymnastic lessons starting next week, they were in NOLA as the twins would be going back with Ink in two days. She squealed and hugged him while jumping up and down.

The rest of the night went smoothly… Until Marc and Otto started a food fight with the ice cream cake.

July 31st 2021

5 years old. They were past the terrible twos and the terrible threes. The kids were in school and their mother and her wife had moved into a cottage outside of Gryff. Finn was out with the kids trying to distract them in a candy shop while the cottage was being filled with people and food.

Everyone was frantically trying to set up for the surprise, everything from the blow up obstacle course and the ball pit, to the video games in the basement. The music was playing from the bluetooth speakers all over the house, they were going through a country music faze much to the dismay of most of the team.

Otto also hasn’t stopped wearing Leo’s old cowboy hat for at least a month.

It was time, they heard Finn’s car rolling up the driveway and everyone froze, scrambling to their horrible hiding spots, everyone waited for the double troubles to walk in. The minutes ticked by getting more and more uncomfortable. The front door swung open and Finn fell down face first into the ground with two back pack sized bags of candy on his back. He groans, the twins rush in and scream that they are home at the top of their lungs. When no one answers they narrow their eyes. Looking at each other for a moment using their twin talk through their brains, they immediately start searching the house.

Once they find the first person, Remus who sneezed from behind the couch everyone jumps out and surprises them. They scream and cling to Remus who can’t stop laughing. When he stands up the kids are still clinging to him, he isn’t even holding them, they are just gripping him that tightly.

Finn eventually gets help standing up and looks exhausted, Leo showers him in kisses and Logan hugs him tight enough to pop his back.

As per usual Ink And Leo are the last to give gifts.

Ink hands them both piercing vouchers at her shop, ever since Logan and Sirius got their ears pierced they wanted to do the same. Otto just wanted one while Olive wanted both. They were hopping around so excited already planning to get them done tomorrow. Ink smiles and leans back into June, as the kids run around them.

Leo straight up just gave them new skates since they have outgrown their others. Olive is the most excited because she has been watching Kuny and Logan like a hawk on the ice, she is learning how to fight and skate aggressively which is slightly worrying for a five year old. But she can hold her own against stupid people who like to tell her she is a girl and can’t do boy things.

They have had to pull her away from a couple people. She started therapy a week later.

The rest of the night went smoothly and to make this a great night, Ink let the kids pick where they wanted to stay. Otto chose Sirius and Remus while Olive , of course, chose Kuny and Nado.

July 31st 2022

They were at the rink this year for their sixth birthday, and boy were they tearing up the ice. They had mini pick up games with the kids (minus Otto). They had races and even limbo. It was nice and cool inside compared to the more warm but not hot compared to NOLA outside.

This was also the birthday when Otto told Leo he wanted to try figure skating. Leo smiled so big at him and nodded.

“I think that's a great idea.”

Otto was all smiles the rest of the day talking about the cool moves he saw on tv at the last winter olympics. He said he wanted to skate to fast music instead of the slow pretty music. He wanted to dance to hard rock and controversial music because he's a rebel.

Olive was still trying to decide if she wanted to be a winger or a defense player for hockey, but she loved hockey so much. She would watch any hockey game and would beg her dad to let her come to practice with him.

Finn and Logan found it amusing until she would get frustrated and start crying.

The twins were a little sad when they found out they couldn’t invite their school friends to

Their party because no one knew who their parents were yet. It put a damper on things a bit but the kids loved the team so they didn’t mind too much. Especially when Regulus showed up.

Since Reg and Leo were such good friends he would babysit the twins every once in a while and they all got on so well, almost like siblings. Olive would talk about anything and everything with him while Otto just cuddled up to him. Reg almost replaced Kun in Olive's eyes but she would never give him up. She would remind him every time she saw Kuny.

The rink was their presents from Leo this year.

Ink gave them plane tickets to come and visit her new shop opening up in New York with her. They always felt at home in the tattoo shop. There are literally pictures of one of the twins in a sling around Ink as she would tattoo when they were much younger.

July 31st 2023

The twins didn’t want a birthday party this year, yes they still loved the team, but they just wanted dinner with their family. Very mature for small children. They picked the food and helped make it while Logan and June set the table and Finn and Ink playfully argue about which tv show they should put on. Olive was mixing something in a bowl with Otto when the arguing stopped, they had landed on a really old episode of spongebob and agreed this is what they would watch. Logan and June just watched them lovingly.

“What’s on your mind, Sugarbug?” Leo noticed her staring at Finn and Ink with her think face on. She looks up at him and leaves Otto to finish mixing the mashed potatoes. She looks up at her dad.

“Why don’t we have a normal family? I went to my friend Sam’s house and they only had one mom and one dad.” Leo was obviously stunned for a moment, seeing Otto nod in agreement with Olive he leans against the counter. He knew he would have to have this conversation someday but he didn’t expect it when they were seven.

“We aren’t a normal family. We are interesting and fun, I mean how many kids do you think have five people to take care of them.” He smiles at them but only gets a slight shrug from Olive, Otto nods a little but not very committed. “We can talk about it more at bedtime, okay?” He pushed her hair behind her ear, she looks up at him with those giant blue eyes and he wonders if she get bullied because she can’t talk about her parents. “Let’s have a good time eating with just family. If I remember correctly there is an ice cream cake in the freezer.”

That perks them up. Once everything is made and settled they start to eat. Leo keeps an eye on the kids throughout the meal and sees them relax halfway through the meal. He needs to talk to Ink about how to explain their situation properly.

All the twins wanted for gifts there year was a night with just Ink and Leo… and a new monster truck toy that you control with a remote so they could run over all their Barbie's.

#leo knut #o’knutzy #logan tremblay #finn o'hara #Olive and Otto

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sgt-morgan · 3 years

Text

Lucky Kentucky ch. 1

Chapter 2

Hello there, this is my new Rockstar!Bucky x Reader fic. It was heavily inspired by my love of seventies mega rockstars, Almost Famous, Classic Rock, and a little bit of personal whimsy. I hope you enjoy, and read responsibly.

⚠️ WARNING ⚠️ : cussing, sexy times, drugs, booze, smoking, objectification, fornication, liberation, and a litany of other sordid topics and traumas.

Your name didn’t matter, at least not so far as you could tell. They called you Kentucky, sometimes if they felt cheeky, Bluegrass. You liked it, the first band that gave you that name was some shitty college band out of Detroit. They were convinced they were gonna be the next Led Zepplin. They called it quits three years later, a good old fashioned Rock n’ Roll suicide, booze, women, and drugs. The finer things always gets the best amateurs. However, their lead singer had a way with words, he came up with the nickname. He also wrote a beautiful song about a girl named Kentucky, who he just couldn’t swing, some big named country superstar sang the song and the last you’d heard he had been writing for the best of the best since. This earned you your title, Lucky Kentucky. A bit on the nose for your taste, but it made perfect sense. You kept following the music, you went to a band in L.A., the day you left, they signed a record deal with Sony. The next was a little English girl and her backing band, her first tour of England with you landed her a tour of the US faster than they could say ‘Burbon.’

You are what is known in the music business as a road manager, so far as you could tell, this was the job you were born to do. You made schedules, you supplied booze and other artifacts, you got hotels, paid off paparazzi, packed busses, and shoved half out of their mind rock stars on to stages in more countries than you could count, you couldn’t imagine any better life. You were the best of the best, you were who the record company called when everyone else had given up. You were a fixer, and an incredibly talented one at that. You had a gift for taking a mediocre side show band, and turning them into headliners.

So when you got the call from Tony and Pepper that you had to fix The Howling Comandos, you were shocked. They were big time, nothing like your usual fixer upper opener that you could make insta stars. They certainly weren’t your crowd, but you always had a problem saying no to Pepper, Tony’s company manager. Tony was a talented mixer, and a gifted album technician. So when he started his own label, it blew up pretty quickly. The comandos were the first band he signed. They had won Album of the Year their first Grammy season without even batting an eyelash. So once business started booming, Pepper took over the paper work, and Tony did what he did best, Fucking around with a mixing board. You had met them when you started working with Natasha and the Widows, a Blondie style punk outfit. They had a pension for eating men alive. Eventually, it got in the way of their success, so you stepped in and saved the band from total destruction. You and the starks had been thick as theives since.

“Tony, you mean to tell me, that the Commandos, the biggest artists of the decade, need my help?” You scoffed down the line, checking the Widows out of the last hotel of their tour with Greta Van Fleet.

“Yes Bluegrass, I do. Barnes is going through some existential heart break shit ‘cause ole bitch called of the wedding, and fucked the Guitarist of their opener. He’s been all drugs, booze, and sappy shit since, and someone’s gotta get the mother fucker back on stage. I’m Loosing money here Kentucky, something’s gotta give.” Tony sounded livid, there were very few times where Tony was as frazzled as this, so you knew it was serious.

“Alright, but I have conditions.” You sighed, you thought you could hear the sound of Pepper weeping tears of joy, but you couldn’t be sure. “I want the Widows to open, I’m not done with them yet Stark they’ve got some potential that still needs to be tapped. I want Frankie on security, I want Wanda for wardrobe and makeup, I want Vision for my techie, and I’m taking Peter as my Head roadie.” It was a big ask, but if you were doing this, you were gonna need the best possible team.

“Jeez woman, rob the treasure chest would yah? You want all of them? You just asked me for the entire roster. They’re on other tours! I can’t just- HEY! Woman don’t you-“ you heard a slap and an ow, and suddenly you were with the one and only Pepper Potts- Stark.

“Kentucky? You have a deal. You can have the Allstars in three months, everyone’s tours should be wrapping up, that puts you just in time for festival season. You up to it?” Pepper sounded like someone had just kicked her puppy. So you knew, you were the only one that could save the day.

“Virginia? Count me in. Give me the three months to plan and connect with the team and I’ll make sure James Barnes makes it onto that bus.” You could practically taste her relief through the receiver. What had you just signed up for.

————————————————————————

You’d done it. Six months, 7 bus rentals, 75 hotels, 107 plane rides, 20 festivals, 95 shows, 89 cities, and roughly 200 people later, you had managed to construct the American leg of one of the biggest and longest tours you had ever seen. All it took was two months, and 23 bottles of Jack Daniels, and you had done it. Now all you had to do was meet the band, and have your first tour meeting.

You had never been so nervous to meet a group of men in your life. Normally, these meetings we’re pretty laid back and informal. Lots of getting to know you, and goofing off. This time, you were in charge of a multi-million dollar tour that could make or break the band of the decades d ruin your career. No pressure. Needless to say, you were fairly nervous.

You were relieved upon arrival that the first people to make it in were the people who seemed to be the most reliable. Vision and Wanda were quietly whispering to eachother in the corner as always, their hands gently intertwined as they surveyed the rest of their new subjects. Frankie was standing off in another corner looking like an immovable brick wall. His sunglasses firmly in place on his nose, looking scary as always. Peter was off with the widows flirting with their drummer. You didn’t think it would end well, seeing as MJ was a bit of a hot head, and Peter was akward and nerdy, but to your surprise, they seemed to be getting along swimmingly. Natasha and Carol were staring at a book full of something, if you had to guess, it would be song lyrics of some variety, and to your shock and absolute awe, Peggy had saddled up to Steve Rogers. Steve was the guitarist of the Commandos, and he seemed to be thoroughly enjoying her company. Tony and Pepper were chatting with Clint and Sam the drummer and bassist of the Commandos, and Bruce Banner, your newly appointed second hand. James Barnes was nowhere to be seen.

“Well, well, good to see that most of you have arrived early!” You smirked walking to the head of the table with your big box of tour folders, Peter moving instantly to help you. “If I have not yet made your acquaintance, I am Kentucky, just Kentucky, you may call me Bluegrass or Lucky, but I will always prefer Kentucky. It has come to my immediate attention, that you sorry suckers were in need of a fantastic road manager, and here I am.” You survey the room as you spoke taking into account every face that you could see in the room and making sure everyone was following. “Now, where is James?”

————Some unnamed bar across town ————

Bucky’s head pounded. Wether it was from the booze or the pounding music he had no clue, but he could tell that it was far too early to be in this booth.

“You really went for it last night Barnes,” Bucky looks for the source of the voice to find that, Luke Cage, owner of the best bar in LA, was unloading boxes of tequila into his storage cabinets under the bar. “You shouldn’t have either, you’re late for your tour meeting.”

Bucky absorbed the information, and felt it melt out of his brain as if it were nothing more than an irritating ear worm. “How do you know about that?” He sighed running a hand down his face and slowly standing to grab his leather jacket.

“It’s sharpied onto your arm,” Luke chuckled pointing to Bucky’s right arm in just about the only clean space someone could fine. “Steve came in and did it last night before giving about a hundred dollars to let you sleep it off in that booth.”

“Of course he did,” Bucky scoffed, “the punk never knew when to leave well enough alone.” Bucky quickly slipped his sunglasses over his aching eyes, as he watched Luke slide a cup of coffee across the bar. “Goodbye Luke, your bar is the only thing I’m gonna miss about this town.”

“Goodbye Bucky, the free live music, and the fantastic tips are all I’m going to miss about you boys. I’ll tell Jess you said hello.” And with that final fond farewell, Bucky left Luke’s bar for the last time before he was trapped in a tour bus for six months.

The drive to Stark Records was as second nature to him as tying his shoes. He easily glided in between cars, making record time to his place of employment. He parked his bike next to a slot that occupied the sweetest little red corvette he’s seen in a good while. The tune in the reference catches his brain and he starts to whistle the chorus, wishing the artist formerly known as Prince was still around. He walked past Sharon, the desk clerk, giving her his customary wink and a smirk, stealing a sucker out of her candy dish and wandering into the meeting.

That’s when he saw her, the hottest piece of ass this side of the sunset strip. She looked powerful, she looked commanding, she was covered in tattoos and wearing the best looking little black number. She was saying his name. “Where is James?”

“Right here sweet thing, I hope I’m not too late to the party, I’d hate to miss anything that came out of that pretty little mouth.” Boy was it pretty, the full lips covered in a red shade that he could only seem to imagine smeared all over her moth as she panted his name.

“Ah, yes there he is. Hello, James. Just in time to-”

“James is my dad sugar, I’m sure we can think of something a little more clever for you to-”

“Alright then Junior if you don’t mind, I’m trying to conduct a meeting, and I will not be letting a drunken moron interupt my carefully planned work flow.”

Bucky’s jaw snapped shut as the people around him, some friends and some strangers, laughed at the clever lady’s little barb.

“Alright then, as I was saying, I’m here to help. I believe in the Peter Grant method of representation. The you-have-a-venue-you-want-it-filled-I-have-just-the-band-sixty-forty method.” She said, flipping her hair into a simple bun on the top of her head, which Bucky couldn’t find more attractive if he tried, “I have made hotel arrangements for every show, I have made bus arrangements, I have planned for added shows, and delayed dates. I have brought you the best opener I have, the best artists, roadies, security, and technicians I could scrape together, and most importantly, I have given you my time and my trust. I can make your touring life as easy and as simple as humanly possible, or I could ruin it. However, all I want is to get you out there, grinding again, reminding your fans the reason they love you. All you have to do, is let me work, and focus on the music. Can we do that?”

“Doll? I like the way you think.”

“Junior? It’s gonna be a long fucking six months.”

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salty-writes · 3 years

Text

The Left Side of the Butterfly - Part IV

Warnings: Violence, mentions of drugs, injury

Word Count: 1436

A/N: Please take care before you read, ALSO i'm sorry it took me so long to get this out ;-; please forgive me :( last time i posted it was like May ;-; I sorry ,, Love you x -Salty

You woke up to Gemma sobbing at about 03:24. You got up and walked to the guest room where Gemma was staying and you slowly walked through the door and sat on the bed. The bed was pressed against the wall with a window next to it.

Gemma flipped over at the sudden pressure on the opposite side of the bed. She wiped her face with her sleeve, sat up and looked at you. You opened your arms and Gemma collapsed into your arms, and continued to sob.

She spoke into your chest but you couldn’t understand through the muffling and crying. You rubbed her back, you knew the pain she was experiencing, you had gone through a similar thing because of Beau.

Gemma eventually fell back to sleep in your arms, you didn’t want to disturb her sleeping so you stayed and held her while she slept.

In the morning Harry had noticed you were gone and looked in the bathroom, and around and eventually Gemma’s room. He opened the door and leaned in the doorway gazing at his girlfriend and little sister.

Gemma was gonna spend a lot of time with you and Harry because as a 19 year old she couldn’t support herself. You paid her enough she just wasn’t smart with money yet. She gets her hair done and nails done every few weeks.

You kept sleeping next to Gemma instead of Harry because you knew how it felt. You knew what she was experiencing. Laying in a cold bed with no one around to comfort you. Sleepless nights.

Mornings after Harry found you in Gemma’s room he looks at you leaning in the doorway. Harry loved the way that you “mummied” Gemma, the way you cooked for her and brought it to her room. The way you assured her that it’s gonna be ok. You occasionally switched places in the the morning so you can make breakfast.

A few weeks after the incident, Gemma slowly but surely started to move around her room and the apartment. She hadn’t been seen by anyone since that day. You still comforted Gemma a lot, you slowly but surely let her spread her wings again.

Its been months and Gemma is just about fully functioning again with minor breaks in between. She smiled a bit more now and was caught back up with the running.

Its a new week and you've got a shipment coming in and you need all hands on deck, Louis, Zayn, Gemma, Harry, Mitch, Sarah and You. Multiple different drugs,good ones that you sell on the street to dealers.

“On my go! Backpacks, first aid, and your good running shoes! Louis your taking the truck to the docks Gemma, Sarah jump in the back and strap yourselves in, we leave as soon as it gets dark!” You yell across the empty room with the few people you need. You check the time and peek through the blinds and smirk smugly, it's time and you're about to make a shit ton of money.

You gather everyone and secure everyone's bag with hair ties. You grab Harry and hug him putting your head on his chest with your face facing away from anyone, you let him hold you there gently and you look up and smile at him letting him lean down and kissing you. This was the calm before the storm.

You assembled your team, told Louis where he was going and putting the girls in the back. Zayn and Mitch were to take an alternate route to the docks but they would meet a few blocks before they got there. You and Harry always stick together, even before he was your boyfriend. It was like a superstition almost.

The sun had finally set and the street lights had turned on, it was time to go. You gathered your team and hugged them, and they were on their way, Louis and the girls got in the truck and Mitch and Zayn had already started on they're way. You looked over at harry,

“Are you sure you want to go?” You ask him walking closer to him and putting your hand on his older scar near his tattoo.

“Yes love, this is big and after the run in you had with niall I want to be there,” he replied to you smiling then reaching for your hands, “I want to go with you.”

You smiled at him and nodded squeezing his hands before letting them go. You handed him a backpack and you and him were on your way. You ran around Cars and jumped on a subway for one stop hopping the gates so you didn't have to pay. When you two got off you booked it up the stairs and ran down the street. You felt something was missing, you stopped in your tracks and turned around.

“H? H?” You panicked realizing he was gone, “HARRY?!” then you felt a tap on your shoulder and sighed in relief then looked up and hugged him, “You're supposed to run WITH ME!” you yelled at him while pushing him.

“Sorry love,” he apologized and grabbed your hand “let's go then we don't wanna make them wait right?” You nodded at his statement and grabbed his hand running with him.

You finally made it to the docks with Harry, Mitch, and Zayn. Louis backed the truck as close to the docks as possible. You met the little boat that carried the goods which you would soon distribute. The boys went to go help the girls and get ready to load up, You went to meet the person you were buying from and had the 7 backpacks full of cash, approximately 10 grand in each. You waited for the person to get off the boat so you looked down at your phone. When the person got off the boat you looked up, god damnit, why, just why? its always him.

Niall.

“Y/N, pleasure to see you here.” He said with a disgusting grin across his face.

“Niall.” you said back to him between your teeth.

“Do you know how sexy scars are to me?” he says to you with the same grin painted across his face.

“wh-” he stops you and pulls his gun on you. You put your hands in front of you and close your eyes in response. He walks towards you and grabs your chin.

“Open your eyes darling,” he tells you and you do. Praying for him to not to kill you too. You look him right in the eyes, you teared up with fear,

“P-please…” you beg barely making it out, he’s crazy and you know it.

Niall looks at you up and down smirking and pulling his gun on you and pulls the trigger and it hit your side going in and out quickly, you freeze and grab Niall falling to your knees tearing his shirt as you fall.

The loud band pulled everyones attention away from what they were doing, Mitch ran to the ledge looking over at you and Niall and cursing under his breath staring down Zayn and Louis to help him then motioning the girls to keep Harry with them. They jumped over the railing onto the lower dock and pulled their guns, Zayn pulling his trigger and getting him in the shoulder. Louis went over to you and pulled you away from Niall clutching you under the arms and you leave a smear of blood across the dock. You panted heavily and cried clutching where you've been shot.

“P-please don't let me die!” you cried out grabbing one of louis arms with one hand, you blinked slowly. “Wh-where’s Har-ry? …P-please I need him…” you said slurring your words, Louis looked up at Zayn signaling to go get him and bring him down for you and shrugs. At this point you were pale laying in louis lap fading in and out of consciousness breathing slower ith mitch trying to take care of your wound and trying to stop the bleeding.

Harry sprints over to you with Zayn trailing a bit behind him.

“Y’N!” he yelled for you. Panic filled his soft green eyes making them cold and panicked. He dropped to his knees next to you and replaced where Louis had sat.

“M’right here love, m’right here, y’gonna be okay…” he said to you reassuring you. At this point you were quite pale, you looked up and him and took your hand away from where you were shot and put it on his upper arm and whispered,

“Please don't let me die… “

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #gang!au #gang!harry

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kiribaku-queen · 4 years

Text

Home [2/10]

Pairing: Bakugou x reader, Kirishima x reader

Fluff, angst, werewolf!au

Word count: 2.6K

A/N:

Summary: Being called the beauty of the clan isn’t as nice as it sounds. The beauty of the clan is supposed to exude confidence, power, and well, beauty. You were quite the opposite, only possessing one of those traits. Yet, the older you got, the more you fit into the role you were given. After your brother and all the boys of age come back from their training period, it was time to find a mate. But who will steal your heart? Is it Bakugou, the rising leader of the pack, or is it Kirishima, the personal guard?

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10]

Today was finally the day. Two years didn’t go as fast as you thought it would but you are so glad it’s over. The whole pack stood outside the entrance, waiting for the newly trained men to return home. You’ve never felt more nervous and excited at the same time. Your brother, your best friend, and your boyfriend are going to come back as completely different people: for the best or the worst. Whether their personalities change or not, one thing is always consistent when these boys come back from training. They come back with sculpted bodies. The beefy arms, hard pecs, yummy six-pack, powerful, broad shoulders, shredded back, the thunder thighs? Ladies and gents, let’s not forget about those bootylicious buttocks. Now you’re not one to fall for looks but you’d be lying if you said that this wasn’t a plus. More than anything, you just wished Bakugou would come home already so that you can spend morning and night together.

You stood at the back of the crowd, regretting that you slept in on one of the most important days. How was Bakugou ever going to find you now? But thank god you weren’t standing there alone. Throughout those two years, you made a few friends that helped you become more confident and helped you fulfil the title of Beauty of the pack. One in particular helped you see the beauty in yourself as well as being your new best friend: Uraraka Ochako. After the boys left for training, three new girls joined the pack shortly after. They came from a neighboring pack with the intention of trying to merge so that we can become stronger together. Many were against the idea at first, but when the clan leader agreed, he let the girls stay so that they can get used to how the pack works. There’s no going against the clan leader, unless you want to get a real beating, so whatever he says goes. But that didn’t stop some people from talking and acting up. You didn’t really have an opinion on the matter, but when you see newcomers being spat at and talked bad about, you couldn’t just stand there and do nothing. They reminded you of yourself when you were younger. A rush of confidence hit you but as soon as you took a step forward, you stopped. Anxiety hit you as fast as that confidence came. You didn’t want to let that stop you because someone was in trouble. You took a deep breath with closed eyes.

If Kirishima and Bakugou can do this, so can you.

And as you opened your eyes, the rest was history. Nothing could separate the 4 of you. You helped them get accustomed to the way of life in the pack and in exchange, they helped you overcome your insecurities. They helped you see that despite being picked on at a young age, you never failed to forgive and be kind to them. Despite your lack of skill in some things, you never let failure get to your head. Instead, you worked hard until you got to where you wanted. Despite not being the skinniest girl around and being insecure about your looks, they helped you see that it didn’t matter if you didn’t look like everybody else. You became the Beauty of the pack because of how kind and sweet your personality is. And how your entire face lights up whenever you smile or how you just radiate good energy. Plus you started to like how your chubby cheeks added to your appearance. And, despite having all the insecurities and yet you still helped those that you didn’t know? Those are the best qualities to have and that’s why you are the Beauty of the pack. With this new profound confidence, you became a totally different person. You were happier, more social and emit even more beauty than before.

You waited at the back of the crowd, playing with your fingers. They should be here any minute now. Nervousness surged through your entire body but calmed down with a pair of soft hands laid on top of yours. You turn to see Uraraka gently staring into your eyes.

“Calm down, they’ll be here soon,” she comforted you. You couldn’t help but sigh.

“I know but they sure are taking their time coming back. You’d think they’d all be running down that hill like a bunch of excited, small children,” You pouted. She laughed at your remark.

“I’m sure they’ll come running once they see everybody. Are you waiting on someone in particular?” she asked. Ah, you realized that you never mentioned that you had a boyfriend. Everyone in the pack already knew that you two were destined to mate so it wasn’t mentioned in conversation.

“My boyfriend,” you answered shyly, “Why, are you waiting on someone?” you teased back, not expecting a real answer.

“I am actually! My fiancé,” she said while biting her lip to stop a smile from appearing. You could only look at her shocked and wide eyed. Fiancé? Since when? Who? She came after the boys left so who did she meet? So many questions were running through your head and before you could even get one question out, her phone rang. She was quick to answer. Only a few okays were exchanged before hanging up. “Whoops, gotta go. Father-in-law is calling,” she turned around to leave, but not before she gave you some words of encouragement. “Don’t forget! Unclench those fits, stand tall and relax those shoulders! Be excited not nervous! I’ll see you later!” And with that, she gave a wave and disappeared. You watched her run off in the direction that went straight into the heart of the town. Everything was forgotten when you sniffed the air and a flood of familiar smells entered your nose and a roar of cheering filtered in your ears, making your head spin. They were back.

You shimmied your way through the crowd, in hopes to find Bakugou first. The group of potential alphas walked through the entrance, and it was as expected: eye candy. Shaking your head and scolding yourself for looking at other men, and also taking a mental picture for yourself, but mainly to scold yourself, you tried to find Bakugou within the crowd. This was getting harder by the second because familiar members and loved ones were coming up to the boys, hugging and welcoming them back. You even tried to smell out his scent but this was proven to be difficult because all these different smells was too overwhelming. Your head spun left and right, body spinning in circles just to spot your favorite blonde hair. A pout laid on your lips and frustration was building inside you. Now you felt like the worst girlfriend because you can’t even spot your own boyfriend. You were about to give up and just wait until the crowd dies down before looking again, when you felt someone wrap their arms around your waist and their chest tightly pressed against your back.

“Looking for me, babe?” a hot breath whispered dangerously close to your ear. All the frustration disappeared and was replaced with pure joy. You turned your head and your eyes immediately lit up when you saw vermillion eyes staring lovingly back at you.

“Katsuki!” you screamed, jumping into him, arms embracing his neck while he hugged you tight around the waist. “I missed you.” You said, your voice small enough for only his ears. Your throat tightened as tears threatened to fall out. You missed him so much. His smell, his presence, his hot personality, his laugh, his smile, his frown, everything. You missed everything about it and the wait was finally over. His face was buried in the crook of your neck and he inhaled your scent.

“I fucking missed you so much,” he admitted. You two embraced for a while, just enjoying each other’s touch. Bakugou finally pulled away to get a look at you. He scans your body up and down and lets out a low whistle. “Is it me, or did you get even more gorgeous?” he smirks when you lightly hit him on the chest, embarrassed by his comment.

“Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t! Looks like I’m not the only one who got an upgrade,” you joked. But were you joking? It was your turn to give Bakugou a good look and you the sight almost had you gasping. He was in a tight, black tank top which showed his rippling muscles. He might as well not be wearing a shirt because you could see everything. The shirt looks like its begging to be ripped apart from that godly body. His chest and shoulders got massively defined, his arms were twice the size you last saw them, but what surprised you the most was the tribal tattoo band that was wrapped around his shoulder. You poked at it, not believing that it was real.

“Holy shit,” you breathed, not realizing that you cursed. When you realized what you said, you quickly covered your mouth with both hands. Before Bakugou left for training, you never cursed. You even hit Bakugou whenever he did. But you were so used to the girls saying it, and eventually you ended up saying them, and now it was in your daily vocabulary.

“Woah, looks like somebody’s got a potty mouth,” Bakugou was genuinely surprised, but now he can tease you all he wants.

“Stop! It was an accident!” you swore. Now you’re going to have to watch what you say around him, or else he won’t live it down! But if he was going to tease you about it, you’d have to tease him right back. “You know, that’s not the only thing my mouth can do,” you looked straight at his lips and bit your lip. Bakugou cocked his eyebrow and a smirk slowly creeped up.

“Oh yeah? What can it do?” he challenged. He looked at your lips and started to inch forward. Just as your lips were about to touch, someone coughed loudly next to you. Both of you spun your head in that direction but had totally different reactions. Sero was standing there, arms crossed against his chest, a frown on his face and giving Bakugou a deadly glare.

“What did I say about being touchy-touchy with my sister?” he questioned. Bakugou only sighed and looked to the side. “If you don’t want to face your doom, do it in the bedroom,” he said dejectedly. Bakugou backed away for a second and you just jumped into your brother’s arms. Breaking his glare away from Bakugou, as soon as he laid eyes on you, his face glowed up. He caught you in his arms and spun your around, making you scream and laugh like you were a little girl again. Sero wasn’t a big as Bakugou but toned enough that it was still noticeable. He had an undercut that was similar to Bakugou’s. The only difference about Sero was that there was no tattoo.

“Missed me little sister?” he asked but he didn’t have to hear your answer. He already knew.

“Of course I missed you! Mom and dad will be so happy you’re back. They are already prepping a huge meal for your return!” you exclaimed. And now you were excited about food!! “I can’t wait to hear all your stories.”

“Trust me, there’s a ton. But I need to rest up first!” he took a step towards Bakugou and patted him on the back. “Take care of her for a bit?” he nodded in response which made Sero smile. He knew he could trust you around him and he wasn’t worried one bit. He turned to ruffle your hair and started to walk back home. Right when you thought that you were alone with Bakugou, another sigh could be heard.

“Man, what’s a guy got to do to get some attention around here?” you turned and another smile found your face.

“Eiji!” you ran up to him and immediately hugged him. He had grown his hair out quite a bit. Instead of spiking it up like he did before, his hair lay flat and he tied it into a ponytail. He was just as muscular as Bakugou with a tribal tattoo on the right side of his chest. Kirishima was a little shocked at first, but relaxed into the hug, hugging you back even tighter than before. If he hugged you even tighter, he swore you could hear how fast his heart was beating. Before it got too suspicious, he let you go and placed both hands on your shoulders.

“How has the princess been holding up?” you rolled your eyes.

“Wow, I really didn’t miss that,” you joked, but continued to play along. “The princess has been swell. She wasn’t lonely for she had made close companions and maybe replaced you two as thy best friends,” you mumbled fast towards the ends, hoping that they didn’t catch it but they 100% did. Their jaws dropped in disbelief and before they could bombard you with questions and tell you couldn’t drop and replace them, you started walking away. You didn’t get too far before Bakugou picks you up and slings you around his waist.

“Katsu!” you whined.

“Nuh-uh princess. No one can replace us. We are gonna bring you back to the palace so that no one can be your best friends besides us. Right, Kirishima?”

“Damn right! We’ll beat your new friends up cause they can’t protect you like we can!” And the entire walk back, both of them were telling their stories of their training, the fights they had and how much they missed you.

When the three of you arrived to Bakugou’s house, his father was already waiting there for you. Bakugou set you down and walked towards his father. When he was close enough, they both grabbed onto each other heads and connected their foreheads together. That was the manlier way of greeting instead of hugging.

“I’m home, dad,” he greeted his dad. He grunted in response.

“So?” his father questioned. You were confused by this question but Bakugou already seemed to understand. He nodded his head once which earned an approving smile and a pat on the shoulder. “That’s my son.” He said in a proud voice. The boys were away to train to see who would be come the next alpha leader. Turns out that Bakugou was deemed to take that position. Your eye lit up and you couldn’t be more proud of him. He waited his whole life to become the next clan leader and it was finally coming true.

“Now then,” his father continued, “Since you are going to become the next leader, we must start looking for a mate,” this comment caused both you and Bakugou to blush, leaving Kirishima in an awkward position. To save everyone from this awkward silence, Bakugou cleared his throat.

“About that, I-”

“And luckily, I have already found one for you,” Bakugou’s father said, sounding like he was proud of his decision. Bakugou’s face went from confusion to anger and Kirishima had to hold him back before he could do anything. You, on the other hand, could only open your mouth in disbelief, hurt could be seen in your eyes. What did he mean that he already found a mate for Bakugou? What about you? What about those two years that you spent together? What about the other two years waiting for him? For it to be wasted like it was nothing? Disregarding the many emotions floating around in the air, Bakugou’s father opened the door to the house and out stepped his fiancée. Bakugou still had a snarl on his face as he looked at the woman in front of him. He wasn��t thinking about anything, but you? This had to be a dream. Or a prank. Your fists clenched at your side, causing your knuckles to turn a deadly white, as you couldn’t believe at who was standing in front of you.

Uraraka Ochako?

tagged: @superblyspeedydragon

#bakugou x reader #kirishima x reader #bnha kirishima #bnha bakugou #Katsuki Bakugō #bnha bakugou katsuki #bnha kirishima eijirou #Kirishima Eijirou #kirishima imagine #bakugou imagine #bnha imagines #my hero academia #boku no hero academia

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