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rcksmith · 3 years

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Desire — Kaz Brekker

(Photo not mine)

Requests: “Hello there! I've been around this blog for a bit now and you are an amazing writer! I was wondering if you would be ok with doing something with 21 28 & 29 from the smut prompts and kaz brekker? If you are uncomfortable please just ignore this!”

“Kaz brekker Smut prompts 28 66?? Love you💖!!”

“I can request Kaz smut prompts 29?❤️”

Smut prompts:

21. “Look at you, I’ve only started using my fingers and you’re already shaking.”

28. “Such a needy little thing, aren’t you?”

29. “I didn’t know you were so sensitive.”

66. “You know I don’t like to be teased.”

Couple: Kaz Brekker/ Fem!Reader

Warnings: swearing, mention of shot, mention of desire, desire, mention of smut, explicit smut, NSFW.

Word count: 3k

A/N: All smut requests for Kaz must follow these rules.

I hope you like💕 English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Requests are open. Love you ❤️

— — — —

There was something about you. Something impossible to decipher, with a glow hovering around you like a electrical energy. Wrapping your whole body in a cloak of magnetism. There was something about the way you spoke, walked, laugh. Something about what it was like to be you, in your beauty and mysteries like a sphinx.

Something that made Kaz Brekker completely furious.

You couldn't be more distorted from the image, in Kaz's mind, than what was to be a peaceful woman. Calm, controled, with steel emotions and wit in eyes. Someone who, like him, knew how to dance the waltz of negotiation, manipulation, who could blend in with the shadows and know the best time to listen more than speak.

You were not like Inej, you were not like Jesper. Hell, you were like nobody Kaz has known in all of his 28 years.

Nothing reminiscent of calm and control would be used to describe what it meant to be you.

Your soul are stormy, loud, obstinate, too stubborn and too talkative. You needed to speak loudly, laugh, move, expose your opinions to the seven winds and to whoever listened the most. You needed to question, inquire, doubt and test the limits of any situation. A direct order for you would be an affront to your free and independent spirit. A command that would curtail your freedom or tame your strong genius was almost like an invitation for you to do exactly the opposite of what they had ordered you to do.

So, for a man of trained reasoning, subtly balanced world, and who was used to his every command being followed vehemently and promptly in blind obedience, such a personality like you was like introducing a disturbing factor capable of shaking all his judgments. Sand in a watch, or stone in a shoe, would be no more a nuisance than a strong nature like your.

The extraordinary stubbornness and mania to counter his orders - when, in your words, they were unreasonable - had made you different from all the women Brekker had ever met. Kaz liked challenges and responsibilities, a good puzzle, but you were on a level far beyond that.

You were a danger to his peace of mind. And you knew that. All his aversion to your indomitable spirit only served as fuel for your own mission in to piss him off. Few men were like Kaz Brekker, you knew that, with a strength of character too powerful to be ignored. He was not just comfortable in his position of authority as he was obviously unable to act in any other way than as a leader. His stoic figure and always so contained in a wall of indifference made you want to ruffle his hair to see if you could remove any emotion. And being a girl who hasn't always liked leaders, Kaz Brekker was a huge temptation. Few moments had been better than those that you managed to piss him off beyond what he could handle.

However, all the reasons why the two of you were so exasperating for each other, did not explain why the air crackled in ambiguity when your eyes met. The hemisphere was adorned in a thought-provoking, poignant veil, like a warm honey flowing down its throat, and there was something else in the way blood flowed like flames of fire through veins of you two.

Jesper said that the sexual tension between you was so tangible that it could be cut by one of Inej's knives, but you refused to think of Kaz that way. At least until that moment.

Not pure images of what the infamous Brekker could do to you between four walls swept you like the strong Arabian wind. Making you be surprisingly breathless. Kaz was not a man whose private life was exposed, nor was he involved with many women, but you have heard two or three of them when they were drunk saying that Kaz Brekker in the room could be incendiary.

Everyone knew that his touch reserve didn't limit him to anything, but that his job was at the top of the priority list and that sexual encounters were almost never on that list.

"It was not my fault!” Jesper defended himself one night, slightly drunk, sitting at the club's round table next to the other crows “I didn't know he was married to another man! That damn pretty face seduced me!”

"Did he seduce you?" You asked, skeptical and playful.

"I swear to God! And it had been a long time since I had sex with anyone, and I went… ”

“But you did sex last week." Inej laughed, chocked.

"Exactly!" Jesper said, as if he were obvious.

You laughed with your beer glass in your hand, taking another sip.

“Is a week a long time to not sleep with anyone?" Matthias retorted, trying not to laugh.

“Are you going to tell me that is not?” Jesper and Nina spoke at the same time.

“If a man has time for sex more than once a week, he clearly doesn't have much to do. And I'm sure I gave Jesper a lot of tasks that would keep him busy.” Kaz narrowed his eyes at his friend, and Jesper hid his guilt behind the rim of his beer glass, looking to the side.

"So you are saying that you are a very busy man?" You teased, trying not to laugh at the scathing look Kaz sent you.

"I disagree. The values of hard work and discipline cannot match the hot body of a woman in bed.” Matthias said, exchanging a brief conspiratorial look with Nina, who winked at him.

"There are more important things." Said Kaz.

"Like what?" You rested your chin on the back of the hand whose elbow was on the table, the playful look of a rebellious student.

"Progress." Kaz held your gaze.

He wasn't going to take your bait. But you didn't give up easy.

"Tell me, if God gave you a deal: all the hunger in the world would be extinguished in exchange for you never being able to have sex again, what would you choose?" your eyes had a teasing feline glow.

At that moment, Kaz felt a shiver up the back of his neck, like a warm breath of autumn. Something crawled, like a snake, across his rib cage and down to his groin, pumping blood like fire through his veins.

He held your gaze, but the feline glow in your eyes promised to contain the most ardent sins. Suddenly, Kaz's mind was flooded by the wave of obscene images of you, on his bed; moaning, squirming, shouting his name and being very obedient with every order he gave you.

He would make you such a good girl...

"I don't believe in God." He replied succinctly, the predator's eyes still in your eyes audacious feline's.

A big, satisfied smile spread across your face, and you said: "As I thought. Bad luck for hungry people.”

Realizing that he had fallen right into your cunning trap, Kaz got rid of your diabolical magnetism and cursed.

“I didn't say…” he stopped, impatient “It doesn't matter. I have more important things to do than waste time here.”

But the smile you hid behind the glass was noticeable to Kaz.

After that night, the crackling, gasping flame that circled the two of you intensified to alarming levels. Kaz could feel you holding your breath when he was too close, and you could see him squeezing his cane harder when you sweetened your voice for him.

However, regardless of Kaz's wanted to fold you at a table and put an end to your brat girl pose, enjoying the groans he was sure you would let out, the two of you still fought like dog and cat.

Just as it was now.

“What do you mean, I'm not going?!” You looked at Kaz, amazed, when he told you that you would not participate in the robbery that week “I know that security system like the back of my hand!”

It was true, what you had of stubbornness, you had of technological intelligence. There was no computer that you would not hack, a program that you would not hack, and a system that you would not unlock. Your genius with technology made up for all your lack of obedience.

But Kaz ignored. “I've already told you. It's a more dangerous mission than you're used to and we don't have time for the plans you come up with right away.” He needled you.

“Are you referring to Switzerland?” You were never anything short of direct and inquiring. It was logical that you would question every orden. “But I already told you that when the alarm went off your plan didn't work anymore! I was more useful inside to deactivate the alarm than waiting outside.”

And stubborn. Holy God, how stubborn you were!

"And it cost you to get shot."

"But it was just a shot!"

Kaz looked at you, puzzled. “Just?! And wasn't it enough ?! You put the whole team at risk!”

“But if I hadn't deactivated the alarm, we would all be arrested! And only I knew how to do that!”

"My fucking God, isn't there a speck of common sense in you?!"

But you answered boldly: "Not when you impose clueless plans on me."

Mortified would be an understatement to describe how he was now. What an unbearable creature! Kaz felt the anger spread from his neck to his face, igniting his breath and squinting his eyes in annoyance.

Why was it so difficult for you to follow a simple goddamn rule?!

“Besides, your initial plan was flawed and there was no reason for me to be out when it was necessary inside and...” And you kept talking!

If you had noticed Kaz's completely enraged state in front of you, you would have been scared, shut up and ran. But, truth be told, Kaz suspected that even if you knew how to read the murderous humor in his eyes, you wouldn't have left that office. Much less be afraid. You could argue with the demon. And you would probably beat him out of tiredness.

However, regardless of the desire to shake you up, to see if that put any good sense in you, in that second, watching you gesture with your hands, defending your point of view as if it were the england queen's crown, something swept Kaz's body from the top of his head with dark hair to the tips of his illustrated boots.

The sound of the world was drowned out by the flow of blood itself in his veins. His heart hammered hard in his chest and, in that instant, a sharp sting in his groin and the pit of his stomach set him on fire.

His gaze went down to your mouth, which kept moving. And when it came up to your eyes, your stubborn and defiant gaze sent Kaz's rationality into space. He dropped the cane abruptly, which toppled to the floor with a hollow crack, and advanced towards you in firm and determined steps.

Gluing his gloved hands to your face, Kaz silenced all your protests with a strong kiss. Hot, fiery, domineering. The kind of kiss that held years of camouflaged desire, years of irritability, years of an unnerving desire to make you shut up with all the perverse forms that existed.

You weren't afraid of him. But you should. You should if you knew everything he wanted to do with you.

However, as if you have been burning in the same desire for years, you responded to that kiss with the same urgency. The same hunger. Kaz slipped his hands into your hair, closing his fingers there and deepening the kiss with ferocity. He felt beside himself, like a hungry wild animal that had been denied food for years and that only now had its teeth set on its prey. You moaned against his lips, bringing your hands to his lean, strong biceps, squeezing your fingers there.

You both needed air, but neither seemed to give a damn about that. Misted of desire that burned like a fire in their bodies, Kaz pushed the two of you backwards, slamming your back against the wall and swinging a frame beside. You gasped, and the gesture made it possible for Kaz to invade your mouth with his tongue, hunting every piece of hot meat. You two fought the same battle in that kiss: invade, dominate, conquer.

They both wanted to take the waltz, but Kaz would never let you conduct the show.

He pulled your wrists up, pinning them with one hand against the wall, leaving you immobile while sinking his mouth further into yours. Kaz felt you try to get rid of his tight grip, but he was stronger than you. And much more when he have a objective.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." He murmured against your mouth, the tip of his tongue playing with your bottom lip. “You know I don’t like to be teased.”

Was impossible for you to control the loud moan that escaped. Your body trembling with desire, your legs wobbly, your wet core vibrating with his words. Kaz Brekker was a fallen angel. With a beauty and charm you've never been immune to.

How can you think you'd win the dominance game with him?

And, like the fallen angel he was, his smug and arrogant smile painted the corner of his lips when he saw what his lines did to you.

“I didn’t know you were so sensitive.” Kaz mocked “If I knew it was only necessary to do this for you to shut up...” he brought his lips closer, his voice hitting yours “I would have fucked you like the naughty brat you have been a long time.”

If his caustic and maddening kisses hadn't been enough to break you in half, that statement would have done all the work.

In that second, you hoisted your white flag, biting your lip in a needy moan and closing your eyes for a second by the overwhelming vibration of your core. God, you needed more. Whatever he gave you. Anything he wanted to give you. You just needed more.

"Are you going to be good?" He played with the dough you were in his hands, his devilish mouth going down your neck, leaving a trail of fire and debris wherever he went.

You agreed, desperately. “Yes, Sir."

That title seemed to do things with Kaz. Because in the next second, his mouth was back on your. More urgent, more needy, more dominating. You shifted your hips for more friction with his, and Kaz rewarded your obedience by pulling one of your thighs forward, making your skirt go up, aligning your thigh on his hips and giving access for his member to fit perfectly against your pulsating core.

You moaned louder this time. Fingers clenching, heart pumping frantically. Kaz pulled his lips away from you for a second, taking his hand off your thigh and bringing it to your mouth.

“Pull.” He ordered, referring to the glove.

You murmured a low, excited moan, bringing your mouth to the glove and clenching your teeth on the cloth at the top of his middle finger. Satisfied, Kaz pulled his hand back, watching the alabaster skin peel away from the leather fabric. As soon as he was free, he removed the glove from your mouth, replacing it with his own and stealing all your breath in that fiery kiss.

His free hand wandered over your thigh, touching you for the first time with a touch that promised to show you all the most delicious and secret sins in the world. His tongue wrapped around your again, and the moan you let out was even greater when his long fingers brushed against your wet, throbbing core.

"S-sir!" You sobbed, your hips rocking against his hand, desperate for more.

"Look at you." His fire voice beat against your lips, the tightness against your wrists getting stronger, more possessive "I’ ve only started using my fingers and you ’re already shaking"

Your body cried out in unbridled desire, sobs mingling with loud moans and heavy sighs as Kaz tormented you with his fingers. He touched you, slid, opened and sank, increasing the volume of your pleas.

“P-please" You begged, the body in need, the urge too urgent.

Kaz looked you in the eye, a dark, malicious gleam burning in his Egyptian blue irises. "Such a needy little thing, aren't you?" He teased you.

But you no longer cared about his teasing. With your lips swollen and red, your heart racing and the core pulsing in despair on his experienced fingers, you were already surrendered.

"Please. I n-need." You mumbled submissively, rummaging your hips in his hand.

"I bet if I wanted to fuck you against my desk, here and now, you would be very happy to do it, wouldn't you?"

He was foisting all of his dominance on you, bending you to your knees for him. And you knew that. You knew he was taking years of anger out on you. But you couldn't care less. You wanted him. Ardently. Desperately. And if it was a good girl Kaz wanted, damn it, you would be a good girl for him.

You readily agreed, your eyes shining in supplication.

“Good.” Kaz pulled you brutally off the wall, turning you over to the table and pushing your chest against the icy wood, pulling your hips at him. “Because that's exactly what is going to happen.”

Suddenly, desire and hunger roared like a wild beast. Kaz watched you, bent over his desk, obedient, surrendered, offering every inch of your body to him.

His breath was burning in his throat and it was no longer possible to order his thoughts, contain his euphoria. He would fuck you so hard that it would make that memory the only thought when you remembered him. When you dare to rebut his orders.

Kaz pulled you skirt up and your panties down, letting out a groan that sounded more like a growl as he saw your wet core. Pulsing and desperate for him. For anything he wanted to give you. It sparked a fervent desire that Brekker had never felt in his life, devastating any possibility of thinking about anything other than fucking you.

Playing with your fingers in your slick, wet folds, you whimpered again, the core pulsing whenever he teased you inside, pressing his fingertips there but never entering.

"Do you want me to fuck you?" His voice came over the top of your shoulder, hoarse, animalistic, full of profane desires.

"Please." You were quick to beg “I do what you want! But just...please, please… ”

You already felt your eyes watering from over-stimulation, your heart burning so hard it was beating, your core aching from emptiness.

You sealed the end of the game between you. Kaz had won. In a triumphant checkmate.

And you didn't have to beg again. Barely seeing when he unbuttoned his pants, you just reasoned his hard, hot, pulsating member by opening your from the inside. Claiming everything that was yours as his in a strong, desperate, hungry lunge.

"S-sir!" You screamed, your nails scraping the wood from the table, the core pulsing overwhelmingly around his rigid member.

In a more badly lunge, Kaz sank completely into you, moaning loudly as he hit rock bottom. The gloved hand slid over your shoulder, propelled you to him while the bare hand tightened on your waist, hitting you at a steady, raw, animalistic rhythm.

The sounds were pornographic, dirty and loud, echoing off the walls. The air was hot like molten lava, pungent and muffled, driving you two lost breath. Their bodies clashed as if the world was going to end tomorrow, in aggressive, rough thrusts. These were thrusts that made half of his things on the table fall to the floor, mixing in a mess that would serve as a reminder later about the sinful activities you two did.

You screamed when Kaz took on more force, his fingers squeezing you so hard that they would leave you with marks on your shoulder and waist the next day.

"Fucking hell!" Kaz snarled between his teeth, feeling your flesh throb around him, squeezing he with such desperation that he knew you were close.

You sobbed, tears streaming down the corners of your eyes as you pushed your ass towards him, trying to bring him as deep as possible, as deep inside you as possible. But every time his pelvis smashed into your ass, a loud moan and the feeling of being completely full drowned you.

You begged, pleaded, for something you didn't know. But Kaz seemed to know. Taking both hands to your hips, your pace became even more unperturbed, pushing you to the limit until you cum in a scream in his name, your lungs on fire. Kaz came close behind, sinking as deep as possible and pouring all the hot liquid into you. Almost like a brand.

The air was filled with sex, lust and desire, filled only by the sound of their ragged breaths that struggled to stabilize.

You were still panting when Kaz's voice came after you: "Whatever I want, don't I?"

A deal with the devil.

3K notes · View notes

neopuppy · 3 years

Text

Dive Into You: Part 2. (M)

Preview: “You’re not seriously just fucking with her to get back at me are you? It’s not like everyones talking about you being dads problem child here.” Jeno’s arms fold over his chest. Bicep muscles straining under tight sleeves.

“Shouldn’t you be happy? I’m allowing you to spend alone time with your church girl. You should be thanking me nono.”

Pairing: brothers Jeno/Haechan x female reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Genre: pwp, church boys AU, smut, love triangle, brothers nohyuck

Warning: daddy issues, sacrilegious themes, explicit language, master manipulator Haechan, innocent Jeno, virgin reader, corruption, bible quotes

Smut Warning: oral(F receiving), slight sensory deprivation, fingering, all in church.

Intro—>

Part 1–>

“I told the new family in town that you’d be showing their daughter around boys. I expect you to be on your best behavior.” Pastor Lee slaps a hand over Jeno’s shoulder with a firm grip. “No funny business.”

“You got it, father. You know, like because you’re a pastor.” Haechan snorts, pouring hot steaming coffee into a ceramic mug.

“Ha ha ha, you’re hilarious. Make sure your brother acts right. People around town are already talking enough about my atrocious parenting skills. Word travels fast in these small towns you know.” Pastor Lee adjusts his tie in the mirror. Stepping out of the front door with not even a wave goodbye. Jeno left rubbing at his shoulder with irritation.

“What time do you want to head out?” He questions, eyes burning into Haechans back.

“Oh, I can’t do that ‘show the new townies’ around thing today. Got a brunch date in the next town over with someones mom.” Haechan turns, leaned back along the kitchen counter blowing steam from his coffee.

“What?? She’s your girlfriend now. Aren’t you supposed to hang out with her tonight?” Jeno’s eyes widen befuddled. More in disbelief his brother would be two timing you, familiar with his antics.

“Your point?” Haechan scoffs, checking messages through his phone. Petty smirk on his lips sending you a ‘miss you’ text.

“You’re a dog. You’re not seriously just fucking with her to get back at me are you? It’s not like everyones talking about you being dads problem child here.” Jeno’s arms fold over his chest. Bicep muscles straining under tight sleeves.

“Shouldn’t you be happy? I’m allowing you to spend alone time with your church girl. Should be thanking me nono.”

“Dick..” Jeno mutters, grabbing his bag to head out. Not wanting to spend another minute around his brother.

“Wait a minute..” Haechan grabs a hold on Jeno’s arm, pulling him back into the kitchen. “Take good care of my girl today yea?” Jeno’s eyes squint as his brother sneaks a $20 bill into his side jacket pocket.

“Maybe get her a milk shake or something. Whatever it is you kids drink. We’re not really going on a date tonight if you know what I mean.” Haechans eyes shift around mischievously. Knowing damn well Jeno knows. Knowing exactly what to say to get under his skin.

Jeno grips at Haechans collar, huffing against his face. Anger seething through fingertips aching to bring his brother physical pain. Jaw tightening, resisting the deep urge inside building for years everyday.

“Gonna give me a black eye nono? What will father think when he finds out his bad seed is also abusive?” Lips curling with a slick grin. Haechan the expert on how to push Jeno’s buttons. Worked on himself well to get exactly what he wants.

“That’s what you want isn’t it?” Jeno clenches the fabric between his fist, arms shaking with rage. “You’re the perfect one, I’m the fuck up. You’re the one dad brags about, I’m the one he pretends doesn’t exist.”

“You think your daddy issues would get your little church girl turned on? Should I tell her how you cry yourself to sleep wishing you were me?” Haechan snorts, loosening from of Jeno’s grip. Hands smoothing out his freshly ironed shirt.

“I’ve never wanted to be anything like you. You don’t care about anyone but yourself.”

“That’s not true nono..” Haechan pulls on a jacket. Fingers twirling around keys. “You know how much I love my car” with a cocky wink matching a shit eating grin Haechan heads out. Leaving Jeno festering in his anger. Fists slamming against the counter. Back tense with underlying hatred, hatred for himself. Tired of how easily Haechan manages to provoke him.

——————————————————————————

Jeno’s nervous, pissed off, feeling anxious. Pacing back and forth in front of your house. He didn’t have much of a choice with the looming threat of getting shipped back off to Jesus camp hovering his mind. The idea to ditch this whole ordeal passing his thoughts more than once. It’s not that he liked you, but it’s also not necessarily that he didn’t like you. Convincing himself he just hasn’t gotten any for too long now. Dick probably desperate for anything at this point. Nothing related to how cute you looked with your lips all swollen after kissing him. Jacking off at home that night reliving the events long forgotten.

Forget about stroking himself off in the shower the next morning again. Or the other five more times since. No he didn’t like you, not really..

“Aren’t you one of Pastor Lee’s sons??” And older woman carrying bags of groceries approaches. Lipstick covering her two front teeth, over sized dress hanging from her body.

“Oh uh.. yes I am. I’m supposed to.. show your.. daughter? Around today..” Jeno stutters out, mentally slapping himself.

“Oh..” the woman adjusts a bag in her hold, throat clearing. “What about that lovely brother of yours? What’s his name again?”

“Haechan..” Jeno’s eyes shift, looking away. How did his brother manage to convince everyone he was such an angel. A modern day fallen angel, roaming earth in disguise.

“Ah that’s it..” she makes a sound of disapproval, bag dropping on the porch. “A polite young boy would have offered assistance.” Voice lowly whispering as she unlocks the front door. Jeno’s eyes darting between the groceries and woman, cursing himself yet again for coming off exactly how everyone says.

“I’ll call her down.” She steps inside. Loud shouting vocals calling out your name. The sound of foot steps against stairs following. Your figure appearing, dressed up to impress. Jeno’s throat itching, swallowing, adjusting his collar.

“That’s not your bike- is it?!” Your mothers shrieking voice questions. Eyes bulging out, taking in the sleek black motorcycle off the sidewalk.

“I’m here!” Your smile falls, only spotting one brother waiting for you outside. Not the one you’d expect even. You subtly give a look around, searching for someone else maybe hiding in surprise. Jeno unfortunately does not fail to notice.

“That is my bike Ma’m.. it’s safe. I promise.” He holds up two helmets. Craving to crawl into a hole under your moms scrutinizing gaze.

“I’m not so sure about this..” she mumbles. Eyes glaring into Jeno, trying to put the fear of God...fear of a strict crazy mother, in him.

“It’ll be fine mom! He has a helmet! I’ve been on a motorcycle with dad before!” You lean up, pecking your mothers cheek. Summer dress twirling up with air as you run forward. Jeno catching a glimpse of your underwear. Shifting a helmet over his groin momentarily.

“I thought Haechan was coming too?” You asks, taking the helmet held out for you. Typically being his brothers helmet, little did you know.

“He’s busy.. errands out of town or something.” Jeno mumbles, avoiding your eyes. He’s being weird, but then again you didn’t know him well enough to confirm he wasn’t always this way.

“Oh.. well I guess I’ll see him later anyway.” You frown, tugging at the light fabric of your dress. What a waste. “You ride a motorcycle?”

“Yea.. I don’t have a car so.. you’ve been on one before you said?” Jeno’s brows furrow. Eyes trained on your feet, teeth digging into his lower lip. You had to wear cute strappy sandals with a summer dress. That just made sense, to show off your cute freshly painted toes..Jeno’s brain feels like its turning in his skull. Lips begging for mercy to let out a scream.

“I actually haven’t. Just said that to make my mom shut up.” You lean in close. Lips grazing his earlobe as you whisper. Words muffled, Jeno blinking slowly. Perfume wafting around his head, as if this could get any worse.

“Uh..” Jeno steps away abruptly. “Put that on!” His voice awkwardly shouts to you, chin jerking toward the helmet in your hands. Head shaking, pulling on his own. Straddling around the bike seat, engine coming to life.

“Am I supposed to hold on to you?” You stand to Jeno’s side. Admiring the shining black bike, fitting for his character. At least physically.

“I..” Jeno’s breath catches under his helmet shield. Only now realizing you’ll be riding with him around today. Legs parted on him.. arms squeezing his abdomen.

“Jeno??..” you pull on your helmet with confusion. He wasn’t much for words it seemed. So opposite of his brother.

“Uh.. yea.. just hold on to me..” he sighs to himself. Sounding more displeased than intended. Uncomfortable awkwardness travels through you watching his shoulders slump. With reluctance, you lift your leg. Straddling Jeno’s back, bad day to wear a short dress..

“This is kind of..” your lips purse together, center a little too close to Jeno’s body. More than close, right on him. Cotton airy smell coming off his black jean jacket. Scent fresh and clean, hair lingering of lightly scented shampoo. His broad shoulders covering majority of your view.

“You should.. hold on tight.” Jeno licks his cracking lips. Foot kicking up the bikes lock. With another look toward your mom motioning the sign of the cross. You lean your body forward, chest pressed up on Jeno’s wide back. Arms circling around his small waist.

Jeno’s own thoughts rolling in like rapid fire. Throat squeezing in, heat between your bodies pressed together moving between his legs. Trying to focus on anything, anything but your breasts pressing into him. Anything besides your smooth thighs around him. The memory of kissing you too vividly choosing to repeat itself.

“God be with you!” Your mothers voice screams out. Bike engine too loud as Jeno rides off. Your dress blowing behind you, smile covering your face. Chin on his shoulder, admiring the view of your new home.

Could only be an even more perfect moment if it was Haechan you were wrapped around..

——————————————————————————

“That’s it? A diner? That’s the tour of the town?” You twirl around the cherry sat atop melting whipped cream. Chocolate shake looking unblended and less than appetizing.

��There really isn’t much to do here..” Jeno mumbles, chin tucked into his chest. Basket of half eaten fries more interesting than you apparently.

“I could have told you that..” you murmur in response. Sitting back in the booth with boredom. Jeno does the same, brows furrowing in thought. A minute or five of silence passing. He grunts lowly, pulling his phone out.

“Look at you two!” Mark jogs over sporting a huge smile stretched across his cheeks. Red and white striped apron covering what looks like an all white uniform.

“You work here?!” You sit up, eyeing the uniform. Almost too fitting, a too old altar boy working part time at a cheap fifties diner.

“Well of course, phone bills don’t pay themselves! Timothy 6:10 For the love of money, is the root of all kinds of evil!” Mark proclaims, finger waggling about like a mad man. Your lips pulling back over your teeth in...displeasure.

“Right..”

“Fucking shit” Jeno groans, kicking at a foot under the table. Tsking as thumbs slam down at his phone screen.

“Ah Jeno! Proverbs 21:23! Whoever keeps his mouth and his tongue keeps himself out of trouble!” Mark places hands on his hips. Lips pursed together with disappointment.

“Yea..sorry Jesus. Whatever.” Jeno mumbles again, eyes not moving from his phone.

“Gamers right” Mark shakes his head your way. Eyes lighting up, taking your own phone out.

“What do you play??” you scoot in closer to Jeno. Closing the space between the two of you in the booth. His shoulders stiffen, curling in hunched over the table.

“Kartrider..” Jeno barely whispers. Catching enough of it, familiar with the game.

“I play too! Oh! I bet I have a better rank than you!” Laughing unlocking your phone, swiping the game open. “Look at my character, she’s so cute!”

“There’s no way you’re better than me....I’m always top ranking in this county..” Jeno’s eyes widen. Forgetting about his current race, watching you hold up your phone with laughter.

“Come on, let’s race. I’m gonna kick your ass!” You lean in closer, reading out Jeno’s ID as you enter it in. “Add me!”

“Language!” Mark sighs, head shaking with both of you. “God’s children have truly fallen. After everything the lord has done for us.”

“Come on Jeno! Play me! I’ll go easy on you” nudging at his side with a wink. Your smile grows, finally something you can do together. Jeno dragging you around downtown past rusty antique shops. The only thing that caught your interest a quant little family owned bookstore. Learning fast he wasn’t much for conversation. Face appearing pained and uninterested with every word from you.

“Don’t feel like playing anymore..” Jeno shuts his phone, screen turning black.

“What?! Aw come on. Can’t stand the thought of a girl beating you?” Jeno leans back, eyes taking in your face slowly. All he cared about was winning, competing in stupid games just to achieve a high ranking. You’d win of course, he’d never let you lose.

“Just don’t feel like playing anymore.”

——————————————————————————-

“Thanks for showing me around, the one street you took me to.” Your voice drips with sarcasm. Hopping off the back of Jeno’s bike. He removes his own helmet, hair flopping around messily. “Was fun I guess.”

“Yea well” Jeno holds out his hand for the helmet you borrowed. You hold it under your arm, brow quirking in confusion. Your hand slowly lifting, placing in his. Jeno’s eyes widen, staring at your hands held together. Too many feelings rushing at him all at once.

“Helmet!” Jeno shouts abruptly, hand flying away from yours like you’re too disgusting to touch.

“Geeze, fine. Sorry...” you place the helmet on the back end of Jeno’s bike. Turning away, without even a goodbye. He grabs your elbow, your foot stopping mid-air.

“You..” head turning, staring down where he holds you.

“Yes?” You implore him to continue. Jeno’s hand dropping from you when you fully turn to face him again.

“You.. you really like my brother..?” Jeno’s eyes fall to the ground. Thick dark eyelashes shadowing across his cheeks.

“Yea of course. Is that what this is about Jeno? I really do like him, I would never use someone.” You smile, bouncing back on your heels. Jeno’s lips suck in with frustration.

“Wish I could say the same about him.” Jeno mumbles, turning his engine back on.

“What was that?” Voice raising, trying to speak above the loud roar from the motorcycle. Jeno flicks down his helmet shield, speeding off. Cloud of dust surrounding you. Smacking at the air coughing out, bike disappearing behind dusts.

“Fucking jerk.”

—————————————————————————-

“Haechan! Where are we going? The church?!” Your shoes lift up dust. Arm in his hold pulling you toward the small old building.

“Where else would we go baby? Can’t go to my place, the holy spirit’s home.” Haechan laughs, pulling a lanyard from his back pocket. “Besides, this is my dads church you know right? It’s like my property too, we’re safe here under God’s watchful eye.”

“Isn’t this.. I don’t know. Sacrilegious?!” You anxiously follow him inside. Haechans easy smile comforting you, arms wrapping around your waist. He steps back down the center aisle. Pews displayed at your sides, Haechan leading you one in front. He pulls you to the center of the pew, sitting with hands on your hips.

“This feels..” you start, chest rising and falling faster as guilt passes through you.

“Wrong? God didn’t make us this way..” his hand smooths down your bare thigh. Passing the fresh new dress just for your date tonight. Fingers skirting between your thighs, one playing at a side covering your mound. “..for us to not touch and explore..”

“It’s just..” your hands grip at the front of the pew behind you. Where you’d normally kneel to pray..

“Just?..” Haechans eyes gaze up at you. Pure sin and danger hidden in the face of an angel. Tongue sliding up your other thigh. “You’re so sweet.”

You sigh in defeat, legs quivering, upper body doing the work to hold you up. His head dipping under your dress, nose pressing into your slit. Cotton from your panties shoving between you. Soft moans sounding from underneath, Haechans tongue licking at your underwear. Enough to properly soak them up, allowing drool to freely fall from his mouth. You gnaw at your lip, gathering up your dress fabric in one hand. Admiring the way the beautiful boy between your legs eats you up.

Haechan lets out a dreamy sigh. Long fingers stroking up and down your thighs. Teeth biting your at core with cloth between. Your stomach folds in, curling closer to where he sits below you. Fingers wrapping around the sides of your panties, tongue lapping at your inner thighs.

“Body of a virgin can heal more sins than body of christ you know..” underwear at your knees. Haechan leans back in, lips wrapping around your clit. Tongue swirling around, suctioning between. Your other hand lifting to your mouth, biting down on your thumb. Muffled moans and whines echoing around the church walls.

Haechans eyes stay on your face, tongue rolling your clit around. Hands squeezing your inner thighs, pulling back, clapping down slaps. Your hips jolting forward with suppressed cries. Everything about him was absolutely depraved. Looks deceiving from the boy your mother had always warned you about.

“Don’t hide your pretty sounds baby.” Haechan pulls away. Lips shining, coated in your wetness. Glares from the colored glass reflecting off his skin. Red tinted eyes sparkling up at you. Haechan reaches for your wrist, yanking your hand out from your mouth. His lips part open, tongue swirling around your entrance. Sucking up the wetness gathering around.

“Oh God!” You shout out, neck loosely dropping back. Tears on the brink of escaping the corners of your eyes.

“That’s it baby. You pray to me now.” Haechan groans, mouth closing over your entire mound. Eyes rolling back into his head, swiping up and down your core. Hands finding his hair, fingers digging into his scalp. Haechans tongue thrusts into your tight entrance, muscle working extra hard to enter.

“Oh my God!” Body shaking, ass digging into the pew. Hips twitching forward, grinding against Haechans face. Chin covered in your wetness, tongue wiggling inside you. Fingers finding way to your clit, pinching and rolling the bud. “Oh my God!!”

Haechan groans inside you, scalp in pain from your pulling. Cock hardening in his jeans, taste of innocence in his mouth nearly orgasmic. You taste too fucking good, nothing like that used up whore from earlier..

“I-I c-can’t!” Haechans fingers work at your clit. Rapidly sweeping back and forth. Tongue sliding out, jaw hung open. Eyes return to your face, smile breaking out over his cheeks.

“You can.” He pants, tongue hung out lazily lapping at your hole. Clit pinched between two fingers, massaging every little nerve. “Cum on my tongue.”

Your head drops forward, tear slipping free. Haechans raspy tone saying those words driving you past your limit. Ass lifted off the pew, core convulsing. Haechans tongue placed against your fluttering entrance. Catching all of your release. You weakly fall forward again, forehead resting on top of his messed up hair.

“So good.” Haechan moans words out, licking clean the wetness seeping from you. Neck lifting, hands cupping your cheeks. “Taste.”

Tongue pushing between your parted lips, trying to catch your breath. Haechan laps at your tongue, realization hitting you in seconds what he’s making you do. Tasting yourself between your lips. His tongue covering every corner inside your mouth. Haechans hands return to your hips, pulling you off the front of the pew to straddle his lap.

“You want it?” His hand digs into the back of your hair. Jean clad dick shoving between your thighs at your heated core. Weakly nodding, eyes half open lazily pecking pouty lips. Haechan lays back down flat across the pew. Warm hands rubbing up and down your back soothingly. “Come here.”

Your head nods, under his command. Mind controlled by whatever he’s saying, telling you ‘I want it- no matter what it is.’ If it’s from Haechan- give it to me, now. You lay down on his chest, kisses continuing. Hands squeezing around your ass, pulling up your dress. Hands flying down hard with mean slaps. Fingers gliding down finding way between your legs again. Skimming up and down your slit from the back. Soft moans passing between your swollen lips.

Body tensing, sounds of the large entrance doors opening up with a slam. Haechans eyes open up staring into yours, brows lifted. His lips purse out with a silent ‘shhh’, earning a rapid head shake from you. Familiar smirk pulling at his lips, free hand clamping over your mouth. Your eyes widen, lips pressing into the palm of Haechans hand. Fingertips circling around your needy entrance. Panic rushing through you as loud foot steps approach closer and closer.

Your forehead shoved up against Haechans. Mouth closed off, silent whimpers falling out behind his hand. Finger sliding inside you, his lit up eyes watching your expressive eyes react. The fear and curiosity alone could make him cum.

“Are you kidding me!” A flash light shines over your faces. Mark standing at the end of the pew in disgust. Your head lifts quickly, ripping Haechans hand off your mouth. Cheeks heating up absolutely mortified. Moving fast, adjusting your dress to cover up. Haechan stays laid down, eyes fluttering shut with irritation.

“Fucking cock block.” He whispers to himself, sitting up. Tent in his jeans extremely evident.

“I knew you stole my keys again Haechan!” Mark clicks the flash light on and off angrily. Both of you covering your eyes. “and you! Mary of Magdala! You should be ashamed! Think of your mother!”

“Dude, chill.” Haechan stands, hands held up trying to block the bright light from his eyes. “We weren’t doing anything.”

“Weren’t doing anything?!? If people found out what you were doing, this one would be getting pelted with stones!” Mark passes the light over your face. You cringe, hands coming up to hide yourself.

“Mark, quick, what’s the verse about fucking that really cute voice of an angel choir boy?” Haechan throws him a knowing look, pulling a lanyard from his pocket. Marks eyes widen, snatching his keys away.

“Don’t steal my keys again! Next time I will be telling your father!” Mark scurries away, door slamming behind him.

“Oh my God he’s gonna tell your dad!” You panic, pulling your dress down. Attempting to wipe away any mascara that could be on your cheeks.

“Nah he’d never, can’t risk everyone finding out about Renjun. Don’t worry baby, I got something on everyone.” Haechan pulls you in, gently pecking your lips. Your senses relax, mind torn with stress still. Who the fuck were you right now..

“You know..” Haechan turns you around, hand scooping your chin. “I’m gonna fuck you. Right there.” He holds your jaw up. Eyes on landing on the altar.

“Jesus will know all your sins after I’m done with you.”

Part 3–>

Taglist:

@seuomo @unknown5tar @sunoosi @safariria @nctlover94 @underjeno @nanascupid @jenorenle @scruffiejelly @mel-yjh @count-your-shadows @sunflowerhae @johnjaespeach @nctflix @notsooperfect @skrtbeepbeep @lanadreamie @nctstrawberrycow @meonlightuniverxse @sunshinedhyuck @haechanswhore @brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr @kpopmultiifandomm @d1nne @neobanguniverse @pewpewpwe00 @abitofafan @haechansworld @born5sos @bockhyun @prettychannie @xuyiyangstan@alexameliamg @ahsshilee @jeon-jungkook-is-actually-god @xwanna127x @heyitsbreeeeee @tarolovebot @loveyukhei @eleanorfreakingchan @classic-antifood @winwiniee @sheytanni @player23 @wavetease @nahyuckk @n0hyuck @doyoungssouthernbabygirl

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yuzukult · 3 years

Text

after midnight 05 || jjk & reader

title: after midnight 05 - tonight pairing: jeon jungkook x reader genre: angst, smut, fluff, fwb!au, fuckboy!jk, doctor!reader word count: 6.6k warnings: bad words !! jk mostly just explicit language. no smut. a/n: ruh roh yeah no smut !! i decided to go without it this time because of the ✧plot✧ and wanted to focus more on that!! hope you guys still enjoy and read it without the freaky. :) (also next chapter is the last chapter. bye.)

He likes the colors red and black.

His favorite foods are donuts, grilled pork (wrapped in lettuce, a clove of garlic, a splat of red pepper paste while dipped into that sauce with the sesame oil or the one with the soy sauce), and he enjoys a good combo of the corn dog—half hot dog, half mozzarella cheese—and he rates the cheese pulls out 10; he even writes the name of the store, location, his order, and the ‘cheese pull rating scale’ in the notes of his phone.

He sniffles a lot, something about his nose that makes him do it frequently, but he does this thing where his nose scrunches up and the space between his brows crinkles while a finger does a quick swipe underneath despite nothing coming out.

Apparently, he’s got a black belt in taekwondo (you have yet to ask him to show you some moves), and he’s a ‘pro-gamer’ (his words, not yours). He does this weird thing when he’s focused on something; occasionally bites down the flesh of his bottom lip, or sticks out tongue with a furrow of his brows, only blinking between five minute intervals (you’ve actually timed this). And when he uses the bathroom, he has this strange habit of having to double check to see if he already flushed, even if you tell him that you heard the water go down. He has to watch it himself.

It’s peculiar that you’ve suddenly learned all these things about him, despite just weeks before, you told yourself that you didn’t even know Jungkook like that. The only thing you knew about him was that he’s got this “fuck-it” attitude, but when you uncover that blanket of a reputation that you assumed, he’s… more than just that.

He vaguely mentions that he wants to open a tattoo parlor, but he’s got a bolder, stronger goal of opening his own duck meat restaurant within the next ten years. It’s not fitting to his… vibe, so to speak, the tattoo parlor is more appropriate, but the way his face lights up at the thought of having his own duck meat restaurant is… sweet. Makes him seem less like an asshole.

As much as you resent yourself for admitting this, you’re warming up to the idea of Jungkook being your boyfriend. It’s not impossible, you’re beginning to realize, but it doesn’t help that there’s some hesitance in making a decision as big as that. Jeon Jungkook as your boyfriend? Pft. Sounds crazy.

The trait about Jungkook that you favor is that he’s honest. Even if it’s a rude statement, an opinion that you absolutely do not agree with, and even if it’s completely indecorous, he’s still purely honest. He doesn’t lie, and you know that he might not be lying about that girl that was in his apartment, his reputation still stands.

But sometimes, Jungkook can be honest but you still have no idea what’s going through his head.

You don’t get Jeon Jungkook.

It’s so complicated, yet at the same time, everything he wants and expects is laid out in front of you. He’s like a secret agent, only that he has his tools placed on the table for all the showcasing purposes and you still can’t understand what his plan is.

“When is your sister’s wedding?” He queries one day, lounging on your couch in the living room. He hasn’t probed you for much lately about the relationship, but to be quite fair, you’ve dropped pretty much every guy you’ve had romantic connections with in lieu of just… spending an oddly large amount of time with him instead. “Is it going to be back in your hometown?”

“Mm,” you hum in agreement quietly, paying attention solely on the television and the channels you’re browsing through. “It’s about two weeks from now. Really, I should be going home this weekend to prepare, but the hospital has been busy lately so I’m going to work.”

Jungkook furrows his brows. “Her wedding is two weeks from now and you’re just telling me?”

You turn to look at him, blinking blankly. “W—Is it supposed to matter?”

“Yeah, I’d like to be your plus one, if you don’t mind. Unless… you were planning on going alone?”

Melting into the couch, you sigh while carding your fingers through your loosened locks. After the last encounter, your family has been blowing up your phone nonstop about the true nature of yours and Jungkook’s relationship. Was he paid to be your date for one weekend? Were the two of you just friends? Did you already scare him and he broke it off? ‘He’s sweet,” you remember your mother saying on the phone one afternoon. ‘Can you try to seem more appealing so he could take your friendship to the next level?’ Because she still doesn’t think that you guys could ever be something serious.

But to be quite frank, you didn’t either. It had nothing to do with you, though, more of Jungkook and the reputation that precedes him. You still had your doubts, especially that night you came to his apartment and saw her there, and although he consistently denies having any relations with her, part of you is a bit… sad about it. As possessive as it sounds, he was supposed to be yours, and the fact that she came into his apartment so easily didn’t sit well in your stomach.

“It’s not that, I just…” you inhale sharply, sucking in your cheeks in thought. “Do you genuinely want to go? Like why do you want to go? I mean, yeah, if you don’t go, it’ll prove everything my family has been theorizing about having a fake relationship, but… I don’t want to force you.”

“I feel like I’m a broken record. I said I’d try to be your boyfriend. So of course I’m going to want to be your date for your sister’s wedding. Plus, I can… see what this wedding hype is that everyone is talking about.”

You snort. “You’ve never been to a wedding?”

“Eh. I have, I just… always tried landing dates on them. So I never really got to enjoy that actual event.”

There’s no harm in bringing him as your date, is there?

There’s harm in everything.

For one, you didn’t expect Jungkook to attract this much attention here. He’s got a suit that you’ve never seen him wear before, hugging his body in all the right places with his hair slicked back with a comma curl brushing against his forehead. Jungkook doesn’t notice you in the crowd, busy keeping himself busy by conversing with some of your relatives, and you’d be lying if you didn’t admit that he stole the breath in your lungs at that very moment. Brows crinkled in curiosity, lips pink like they’ve been stained with strawberry juices paired with a smile that nearly ropes in the hearts of all those around him, this sight of Jungkook from this distance does the same to you.

God, he always looked so good but today, he wasn’t.. Hot, he was more than that. He was… handsome, beautiful—all of the above.

This was bad. This was so bad because you’re sinking in quicksand disguised with the ways of Jeon Jungkook and the thing you least imagined to happen is starting to happen. You need to grab on something, someone, anywhere where there’s a branch of hope to get you out, but you’re in too deep.

You might… actually like Jeon Jungkook.

But before you could get lost in your thoughts, your sister snaps you out of it with a panicked whine. You could hear her through the walls of your house—and although you’re not the maid of honor, the person she picks for it isn’t exactly the most reliable either. She isn’t quite equipped for a pressuring scenario, and well… a wedding is a taxing event.

“Yuri!” She wails, stomping her feet against the carpeted floors of her childhood bedroom. Yuri gets hit with a tsunami of worry washed over her face as Suji turns her head with the scariest expression on her face—like a tiger going after its prey. “I thought I asked you to take care of this!”

“I’m sorry,” she responds, voice quivering as she gets on her knees. You furrow your brows at the motion, unsure what to make of what she might potentially do next. “I’m trying…”

“Suji, what’s happening?”

“There’s a stain on my dress, and Yuri was supposed to make sure it’s in perfect condition!”

“She’s your friend, not your servant. Here—” you gesture one of the bridesmaids over and hand her the key fob to your car. “Grab the tide to-go pen in the glove compartment. We’ll try that first and if that doesn’t work, I’m sure mom has something in the laundry room.”

Suji is huffing and puffing, smoke practically whistling out her ears with her arms crossed over her chest, veil draping over her shoulders and dress dragging along behind her. She’s so pretty today, despite all the anger boiling in her blood, but she looks like an angel from heaven. “Don’t be sad, lil sis. It’s just a little stain. It’ll get stained worse anyways when you walk down the aisle in grass to your future hubby.”

“OK, but this day needs to be perfect. I had a binder that planned everything out since I was in middle school—” Suji is the epitome of what you described as those girls at that age, and she’s currently living the dream of being able to make it happen. “—and it has to be what it looks like. Sure, I upgraded the tacky stuff to find me at my age, but I need it to be… that.”

“It doesn’t have to be that.”

“It does!” She exclaims, a foot slamming into the floor that’s only cushioned to muffle the sound. “If he’s going to be my forever, then today is the only day that I can make this my day.”

“Right, but you also forget that it’s his day too. And not to mention that it’s possibly the only time you’re going to get married, so you want this day to be great. So instead of wasting your time throwing a tantrum like an actual middle schooler, how about we just make this day as lovely as we can and reminisce on the good memories instead of creating bad ones.”

Her tongue pokes the inside of her cheek. “I guess… you’re right. I love him, and I know that he’s the ‘one’ so…” She sighs, shoulders dropping along with the look on her face. “I just want it to be perfect. Imagine our kids in the future, turning the pages of our photo album. I want it to be perfect, to be special—“

“You keep saying ‘perfect’ when in reality, they’re just gonna wanna see their parents happy on their wedding day. They’re not gonna care that their mom has a tiny dirt stain on her dress, or if the flowers aren’t the exact shade of lavender that you wanted. They’re gonna be focused on those smiles plastered on your faces—grinning from ear to ear, big teeth in everyone’s faces.” You steal a seat on the stool beside your sister, fingers fiddling on your lap. “You’re living your dream. Sure, not everything is going to go by the book tonight, but the fact that it’s pretty damn close is good enough.”

She nods; tears begin to well up in her eyes and you groan. “Don’t cry, you’re gonna ruin your makeup!”

“I just—“ She snatches a tissue from a box nearby, dabbing the inner corners of her eyes to catch the tears before they fall. “That was good advice. And… I’ll take you up for it, that is… if you’ll take up on mine.”

Well… that’s different.

“Uh, what do you mean?”

Suji frowns. “I’m your little sister, but I’m not that little and I’m also not that dumb.” You tilt your head in confusion, uncertain where she was leading the conversation. “Remember back a couple months ago, when I came to visit you, my big sis, in the big city, living out her big dreams?”

“Uh… yeah?”

“And, despite your constant denial of being with someone, I still saw that bright look on your face whenever your phone lit up with a specific name that spread across the screen?”

You grimace. “I did not look like that.”

“Well, in comparison to now, I would say that during that time, it was a bit dim because now you look like the brightest star in the sky. I know… I know that you and Jungkook were uh… not really a fling, but not really a couple either.”

Intriguing, because you never showed any signs of this but Suji picked this up? “When you went to work that one day, he came by your place while I was staying there.” Your face drops. “OK, but before you get all pissy, hear me out.”

“Jeon Jungkook stopped by my apartment… as a fuck buddy, while my sister was there.”

“Right but—“

“What the hell!”

“I said listen!” Although you want to counter back, it’s her special day after all, and starting a fight with your sister on her wedding day isn’t the most ideal scenario. “I uh, he might’ve not realized it then, but he’s been smitten with you since then. Well, before, really, since it seemed like it wasn’t the first time he looked that way.”

Annoyed, it’s your turn to cross your arms. “Like what?”

“Like he wanted to impress me because he liked you.”

This is new. You can’t help but snort a laugh, the back of your hand covering your face in utter shock, shaking your head in disbelief at her observation. “Where are you going with this?”

She shrugs, pursing her lips as her eyes skim her bedroom. “That… I’m glad you finally took him in as your boyfriend officially. I know you’ve always advocated for being a career woman, but there’s no harm in being both a career woman and being in love. You don’t have to be those people who are dependent on their significant other, like mom, but you can just be… you when you’re with him. He can take care of you, and you can take care of him. Goes both ways.” Her eyes eventually meet yours. “I see the way he looks at you. He’s not the type of person like mom is, expecting you to toss everything you’ve worked hard for just to be a housewife. He likes you for… you. Potentially even love.”

There’s that l word again, the word that slipped off the tip of your tongue so carelessly during a night of intoxication. You weren’t even that drunk, you have to admit, because it was only a couple shots, but something in you spurred the words out like vomit. Jungkook has yet to confront you about it, and it only makes you feel queasy just thinking about what he’d potentially say.

“I… Maybe, I don’t know,” you sigh, watching outside the window to see the bridesmaid that you sent on a mission run back in a frenzy, probably fearing that your sister has transformed into Bridezilla once more. “Maybe I need a sweeter guy, one that has a decent job, shares a lot of things in common with me, and one day wants to settle.”

Suji furrows her brows. “Jungkook is sweet. When you went to the bathroom the other day, Horny—” Suji clears her throat, eyes scanning the room to confirm that your cousin isn’t there, “—Horny Hyunae tried pulling a move on him and he was quick to just reiterate once more that he’s yours and not hers. He’s sweet, sis, you’re just too scared to see it. And a decent job doesn’t mean he has to be a doctor. Imagine you being with another doctor. You guys would probably rarely meet. Plus, not all couples have to be a replica of each other—wouldn’t that be boring? And… And Jungkook… maybe he’s not confident right now, but if he really wanted to be with you and you wanted to settle, he’d at least take it into consideration. So… why can’t you fully put yourself in a relationship with him and give it a go? Not just use the term ‘boyfriend’ loosely, but… treat him like he’s your boyfriend, because he is.”

Before you could formulate a response, the bridesmaid is already up the stairs, panting as she hands you back the key fob while waving the tide to-go pen. “I got it!”

“There you are,” Jungkook has a glass of champagne in hand, the liquid courage halfway full, with his other hand dug deep into the pockets of his trousers. “I’ve been waiting all this time for you. Met up with your sister?”

“Uh, yeah,” you nod, realizing that the two of you are matching in black attire. You’ve opted for a silky midnight dress, one that follows your silhouette almost tightly, and Jungkook would be lying if he didn’t say that he was watching you the entire time as you made your way toward him. “She was unleashing the demon inside of her because there was a minor stain on her dress. Worked out though, she’s calmer now.”

“Mm,” he hums, mimicking your nod. “Hope you’re not like that on our wedding day.”

You freeze.

There’s something weird about hearing Jungkook say ‘our’ instead of just ‘your’ with the word ‘wedding’ trailing behind it because it’s not… your wedding he’s thinking about, it’s the both of you. The thought of Jungkook standing at the alter, patiently waiting for your appearance down the aisle—fuck, erase erase. You shouldn’t even be thinking about anything of that nature, especially not since you haven’t even claimed Jungkook as your boyfriend officially. It’s too soon. It’s way too soon. He’s still a fuckboy.

Right?

Right.

Or so, you think. He’s different these days, and you say that quite often, but he’s truly been… different. He’s actually been toning down, trying to be less intolerable, but enough that he’s still himself. The other day, he made a flirtatious comment about your ass, but when a passerby complimented a girl standing inside the store, Jungkook glanced for a brief second but didn’t even bat a lash. He didn’t try getting her number, approaching her to compete with the other guy to ‘state his dominance.’ He just… stood by you, holding the menu in hand for you to see more clearly and asked, “are you sure you don’t want to get the spicier one?”

It’s even stranger that the two of you hang out casually now. Before, it’d be a quick booty call, sleep over, and that’s it. Wake up the next morning, shuffle to get your clothes on and make your way to work.

But now, he comes straight after work to your place, offers to either help cook dinner or stop by somewhere to grab something and stays the night.

Who the fuck is this guy?

You definitely need a drink. Eyes zooming directly on the glass in his hand, you don’t hesitate to snatch it and give it a swing. Jungkook isn’t fazed by this, using his now vacant hand to stuff into the other pocket. “I have a scar now from the stab,” he states nonchalantly, inspecting the look on your face. You’re without a doubt troubled, fighting with whatever thoughts it is inside of your head, and he assumes that it’s from your sister being married and not you, so his goal is to create some type of distraction. “I thought you said I wouldn’t get any scars from your stitching.”

“I never said that,” you roll your eyes. “I said it’ll make the scarring results a bit better. Why? You don’t like my work?”

“No, I love your work,” he responds, and that l word haunts you worse than a demon in those horror movies. “I just figured I would try to keep your mind off things by bringing it up.”

“Off what things?”

“You know,” he shrugs. “Your sister is getting married. I know you wanted to get married, and the stigma is that the older sibling is supposed to get married first, and there’s that superstition that if the younger one gets married before the older one, the older one won’t ever get married.”

Is… that what he thinks you’ve been so lost about?

It’s sort of endearing, hearing the way he talks about making attempts to create a shift in conversation so that you’re not feeling conflicted about being at your sister’s wedding. Because in reality, he’s the one occupying your mind. He’s taken over like a plague, infiltrating all your thoughts, to the point that when you’re grabbing boba tea from the shop around the corner for your apartment, your head immediately directs to ‘Is Jungkook over? Does he want a cup?’ And when you know he’d be over for the night, you don’t forget to put that extra towel on the hook in the bathroom for him when he showers. Or even making sure you have a couple water bottles in the fridge because Jungkook prefers to drink water cold than room temperature.

“Oh, I uh, I’m not really so worried about that,” you mention, rubbing your nape awkwardly. “They’re just superstitions.”

“Good, because they are. Your sister is about to get married and I still want to be with you.”

You nearly choke on the champagne, mid-sip and Jungkook rubs your back soothingly. “You alright?”

“Sorry, I just… I wasn’t sure if I heard that right.”

“Yeah, you did. I uh… I still mean what I said, even though this is entirely a new territory for me. I don’t want to say that we technically are boyfriend and girlfriend, but we’re literally at each other’s places everyday, I even have a spare toothbrush sitting on your sink. So… I hope that in comfort, that superstition doesn’t play when it comes to you. I still want to… be with you.”

You don’t get a chance to slip in a response because the music begins to play, and you and Jungkook quickly claim the seats in the front row.

It’s beautiful, you have to admit, all this effort that your sister put into this day has really been worth it. Your childhood home’s backyard doesn’t feel like it today—today, it’s her wedding venue.

The flowers are a beautiful shade of lavender (her favorite color), and they cascade down the armrests of the seats that line the aisle, with matching ribbons that tie around the backings on top of the white cloth that cover the chairs. Her future husband stands at the front, hands probably sweaty and heart racing like he’s just run a marathon. And the way his eyes light up at the sight of your sister, at the other end of the aisle with her arm linked with your dad’s, your heart swells.

The little flower girl that tosses the petals into the air practically dances on her route, and the ring bearer can barely walk without falling (he’s adorable, they have the rings tied to the pillow he’s holding because they predicted this). You can’t help but notice your mom’s face through it all—eyes welling up with tears, smiling so wide with her cheeks close to bursting in happiness and excitement, all while clasping her hands together and constantly gushing with her friends surrounding her. “Oh!” She exclaims, shaking her head. “My lovely daughter is getting married!”

You want to scowl, but you won’t. Today is your sister’s day, not yours, and her happiness was a priority. But the way your mom gazes at your sister dreamily, walking down the aisle with the biggest grin on her face, and her constant probing from the weeks before about how you’re never going to get married at this rate only makes you feel small, despite the fact you made yourself into this independent, strong person. Albeit none of that matters when your mother still looks at you disappointingly.

It’s like Jungkook senses the shift in your emotions, because he rests his hand comfortingly on your thigh, just above the knee, and when your eyes lock, his expression softens.

The ceremony flows well; there’s tears, laughs, and hollers, all supporting the main couple. They say their vows, exchange rings, and end things off with a loving kiss that sparks fireworks into the sky. That look on Suji’s face is filled with infatuation, hopelessly in love with the man in front of her, but the moment you glance at her new husband’s face—it’s a mirror of hers.

You… want that.

Jungkook has mentioned before that maybe these things are just something that you might want but may not truly want for yourself. But seeing your sister have it is only confirmation of it, and part of you… wishes that you had someone like that.

And for the first time, Jungkook comes to mind.

Maybe it’s because he’s sitting next to you, you attempt to reason, albeit he’s always been running through your head. The fact that the two of you had gotten relatively closer these past few weeks, him waiting patiently for a specific label to be presented by you, was adding to more of the reasons why he’s now a perfect candidate versus the old version of himself.

When the reception begins, you shoo Jungkook to find something occupy himself while you lend a hand to your sister and mom with greeting any additional guests that come in.

From his perspective, he feels like a balloon with too much air in it, threatening to burst.

Not that he was gassy, but more like he was filled with… emotion, and impatience, close to rupturing. Especially lately, Jungkook has been rethinking his entire life plan, ever since you decided that it was either date seriously or nothing. Truthfully, he thought that he could convince you otherwise—lead you to wish for an uncommitted relationship, but if he was to confess sincerely… you seemed to have changed his mind.

He saw your relatives chasing the kids around who holler and giggle gleefully, smiles plastered widely on their faces. One of your cousins, Nayeon (if he remembers their name correctly), was running after her toddler daughter around the second floor of your parents’ house after the baby showered, completely in the nude. He saw your grandfather, standing in the corner of the hallway, trying his best to catch the little one but his stomach was too big and he couldn't bend over far enough to grab her.

But then he saw Naeun’s husband; albeit his wife was sweating, hair out of place and completely stressed out by this crazy toddler, his face… exhibits adoration.

“Baby,” he remembers the man calling out to his love, snatching her up into his embrace with a soothing hum. “Go rest up. I’ll get her dressed and ready for bed, yeah?”

Naeun’s shoulders drop, eyes sunken from tiredness. She’s probably been taking care of the baby nonstop, and having to deal with family members in the midst of it, so when her husband stops her, it’s like she’s finally got a second to breathe again. “I—But the baby,”

“Yes, I got her,” he assures her, pressing a kiss on her temple. “I’ll take care of it. Go shower and rest up.”

And for a brief moment, Jungkook thought it was the two of you.

He sees himself, telling you to take a breather, to let him watch over the little ones as you shower. He sees himself, pressing gentle kisses on the crown of your head with an exchanging soft chuckle between the two of you, whispering a brisk ‘I love you’s because the kids are at it again with their crazy shenanigans, bulldozing everything in sight before he can get a chance to keep up with them. He sees himself, that day when your sister is looking up at her now-husband, but instead of your sister, it’s you.

To be quite fair, Jungkook isn’t a hundred percent solid on whether or not he wants this specific future. It’s particularly different from the route he’s always presented to himself, and it’s an uncharted territory for him but one thing he knows for sure is that he wants you.

He wants to see you when he comes home after a day of work, he wants you beside him on weekday nights, snuggling underneath the blanket while on the couch, watching some stupid movie you chose. He favors eating from those take-out boxes or even a nice home cooked meal, but only because you’re with him, despite the fact that there’s not much that the two of you have in common… something about you specifically that has his heart stuttering recently, and being around your family only furthers it.

So when he’s resting his arms on a tall table, beer in hand, blazer unbuttoned and the first few of his dress shirt let loose while faintly listening to some of the men his age that he’s become familiar with at the wedding, he can’t fully focus on anything other than you from across the venue.

Hair let free, cascading over your exposed shoulders, and pretty collarbones out for everyone to see, Jungkook doesn’t think there’s anyone in comparison when it comes to you. The head attached to those graceful shoulders holds so much intelligence, always teaching him something new with each encounter he has with you, and he truly feels grateful to have met someone like you.

“Hey,” one of the dudes calls out, interrupting Jungkook’s dreamy gaze in your direction. “Hottie at 6:00.”

Jungkook clicks his tongue, lazily turning to where the guy points out, along with the other three guys with him. It’s both Horny—Hyunae (he has to remind himself to stop saying that because you keep engraving it into his head) with another one of your relatives (Jungkook can’t keep up with all their names). “Which one?” the one dude with purple hair queries.

“Both,” the original guy says, smirking as he takes another sip of his drink before nudging Jungkook. “You tryna get one and I get the other?”

“Hey, what about me?” the purple hair guy looks at him with a confused expression. “Am I not hot enough?”

“In comparison to him? Nah. I’d rather have him as my wingman. You see the tattoos on his hands? Probably makes those girls’ panties wet in mere seconds.”

Jungkook waves them both off. “Nah, count me out. I got another one I’m targeting.”

The first guy scoffs, putting his drink beside Jungkook, more intrigued by him than the girls now. “Interesting. You have another girl in mind? Who is it? I wanna see.”

Without hesitation, Jungkook gestures to your direction, straightening his posture when he sees you turning, giving him a small wave before going back to the guests again, shaking their hands and giving them your lovely smiles.

“The bride’s sister?”

“Shit, I know her. That’s a stretch.”

He can’t help but let out a laugh, shaking his head at the guys, lifting his beer up in the air. “Wanna see my game? Since you think I’m hot enough to land any girl, right? Watch this.”

With that, he makes his way over to you, and when you turn to him with a smile that’s softer, warmer than the ones you’ve been handing off to the guests, he feels his heart blooming more than all the flowers at the venue. He’s never felt like this before—this thing happening inside of him where his chest is tight, stomach doing flips despite not being nervous about anything, other than just being in close proximity. Have you always been this pretty?

A hand on your waist, you pat his chest comfortingly before resuming back to your activities, and Jungkook turns to give a wink at the guys who stand in awe, mouths dropped at his game.

If they only knew.

He wasn’t the one that caught you. You caught him.

The weekend was nice, you have to admit; spending time with your family (even though they were super judgemental at times) and seeing your sister get happily married was blissful.

But all good things come to an end.

Holding the end of your clipboard against yourself, you’re skimming through the patient’s chart with previous notes made by the doctor, orders on what she should be more cautious about, and directions on how to prevent another instance. Yet, she’s here. In a room in the ER, claiming to have liver issues yet again.

“This is your second time here, Lisa,” you purse your lips, taking a seat on the swivel stool. “What’s up? I thought the last doctor told you to cut your alcohol intake. Even the specialist said the same thing.”

“I did!” She exclaims defensively.

You drop the clipboard onto the tray beside you before crossing your arms, “... so how’d you do that? How much were you drinking instead?”

“What do you mean? I just ran a knife through it while pouring.”

You almost gave yourself a physical facepalm, but your job description doesn’t have ‘make patients feel dumb’ or ‘call them fucking idioits’ in it, unfortunately.

After following the procedures to take care of Lisa, you’ve sent her off to proper care. Leaving her room, you let out a heavy sigh, pumping a couple squirts of hand sanitizer from a bottle that sits at the nurses’ station when you notice Nurse Hyerim peering at you suspiciously. “Uh… yes, Hyerim?”

“So, about Dr. Hyunjin—”

“Mm,” you hum teasingly, resting your forearms against the counter, a smirk tugging on the edges of your lips. “Dr. Hyunjin’s name seems to come out of your mouth quite frequently. Are you going to ask me if I’m going on a date with him again? Just out of curiosity and thirst for drama to share through the grapevine? Or perhaps…” your wag your finger jokingly before pointing at her. “... you’re interested in Dr. Hyunjin and wanna take him out on a date.”

Hyerim is stuttering, words unable to escape from her mouth properly. “I-Uh, I—”

“Mm, if that’s the case, then no, I am not seeing him again, and you’re more than welcome to hit that.”

In disbelief, she puffs a breath of air that blows her hair away from her face. “Wh—What? It’s not even like that! What about you? What happened between the two of you?”

You shrug nonchalantly, playing with the pens in the plastic holder. “Nothing just… you know.”

This time, it’s Nurse Hyerim’s turn to taunt you. “Does this… have to do with that pretty boy from 18B?”

“I mean…” just the thought of Jungkook has your face heated. The two of you haven’t been able to have a proper conversation about what happened the day at the wedding, what he professed, and how you felt in return. “Would it be crazy? You know. For the two of us to be together. Insane, right?”

Hyerim’s confused. “What? You do realize you’re two hot people… right?”

“It’s not even like that.”

“Well, what’s the problem?” She tilts her head, puzzled. “Does he still not want to be your boyfriend?”

“Uh, actually, he wants to date now.”

Hyerim slams her hand on the counter, completely baffled. A couple heads turn and you wince internally. “Are you kidding? No offense doc, you’re hella smart but also very stupid. We’re talking about hottie in 18B here—“ geez, you’re praying no one is currently occupying 18B right now “—the one that has that rep of being a ‘fuckboy’ and I don’t even have to know him to know that. He wants you, bitch you better go for that before someone else snatches him.”

“Did you just call me a bitch?”

“Heat of the moment. You get it.”

“Mm,” you hum because everything Hyerim is saying isn’t new information. “Alright. I’ll… I’ll talk to him tonight. Maybe. We’ll see.”

Jungkook mentions prior to your lunch break that he’ll be over tonight, but “later. gotta take care of some stuff back at my apartment.” And at first, you considered waiting patiently in your living room, wine on the table and maybe in some cute ass lingerie and a silky robe—but why wait when you can just… go to him?

Of course, you’re not insane. It's been chilly recently these nights, so you’re not going to go strutting in lingerie underneath a thin ass robe. But, you’ll sport those jeans he says makes your ass look juicy, and a comfortable long sleeve to get him thinking that nothing will happen at the end of the night. (Spoiler: dirty things are going to happen that night.)

But you’re starting to learn from your mistakes, something that they teach you throughout all of your education career, from preschool up to high school, and even in college. They teach you in books; the life lesson is to learn from your mistakes and try your best not to make them again.

So, when Jungkook opens the door, completely shocked and unsure what to say, you’re left speechless too.

He didn’t lie—you make this very clear, but he wasn’t being entirely candid and open either.

Because that girl that stabbed him—the one that caused the scar in his abdomen, the one that made you be the one to tend to his wounds, is sitting in the dining room, with who you assume is her parents, all dolled up for the occasion while the mother lays the dishes on the glass table.

“What—What’s happening?” That’s all you can say. Well, what else could you say? You’re a doctor. You should keep your composure—acting out only makes you look bad and what if the cops come? A doctor getting arrested?

To be fair—you’re not that intense to warrant a visit from the cops.

But nonetheless, you’re fuming.

“Baby,” he whispers softly, shutting his door behind him to push you out into the hall. “I thought I said we’d meet after I take care of some things.”

“Take care of some bitch like she’s your girlfriend?” What the fuck is this guy talking about? How dense is he? “You got her parents in there too? What is this? Meet-the-boyfriend dinner? Did you come to my place for practice or what?”

“Baby,” Jungkook says again, quieter. “Relax. I actually wanted to talk to you about this tonight.”

“Bullshit—“

“Fuck! Alright, I know it was wrong of me and I should’ve told you earlier, but I thought she was over it and I cut her off, okay? I didn’t know she’d bring her fucking parents here!”

If having question marks above your head was an action that occurred in real life, now would be the time for them to appear. “Huh?”

“Can we talk about this later?” He says, those chocolate pools he calls his eyes are pulling you in, and in mere seconds, you’re already drowning in the sweetness. "I know it sounds insane, but there's a very good reason why I'm being so shady about this. It's not because I don't like you, or that I'm playing you either. I just... this is an embarrassing side of me and I really just want to figure this out before I make... us work."

You suck in your cheeks in defeat. He has a way with words, you admit, but you're starting to feel like he's testing his chances with you. “11:00PM. Sharp. If you’re not at my doorstep by then, you can consider this done.”

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#jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #gyukultfics #jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts

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hikari-kaitou · 3 years

Text

Capcom’s Official AA Fanclub Surveys - Main Series Edition

Naturally, Capcom’s official AA fanclub site didn't only post surveys about the DGS characters; they published far more of them about the main series characters. It makes sense, as they started the trend before the DGS series had even been conceived.

Back in the old days, they used to hold a survey on Capcom’s official AA fansite every few months where they’d write about the seasonal activities of a handful of characters and ask fans to vote for the funniest/most pleasant/strangest/etc answer.

They stopped doing them in like… 2016? 2017? The original text is lost for good as far as I can tell. Even the wayback machine couldn’t help because the content was password locked and you can’t get past the password wall while remaining in the archived version.

Fortunately, I saved some of my translations of them so I thought I’d share them. Unfortunately, I was doing these translations very casually and only intended to share them with two of my close friends at the time when I did them, so some of them are just summaries rather than proper translations, and I tended to only focus on characters that we personally were interested in or scenarios that we thought were funny or interesting. That means there are parts missing, and because I didn't expect the original text to be wiped off the site I didn't save it so I could go back and fill in the blanks. Sorry about that...

Cut for length!

"Spring is on its way and each of the AA cast members spent their day off in different ways. Who's way of spending their day off sounds the most pleasant?"

Phoenix- he finished unpacking his moving boxes and sorting his seasonal clothing. While he was packing away his ugly pink sweater and such, he happened across the complete works of Shakespeare at the bottom of one of the boxes, got completely absorbed in reading, and ended up abandoning his unpacking.

Mia- She went shopping at a department store for a new summer suit. On her way, she coincidentally ran into Maya, who was on her way to the agency to hang out, but then at some point Maya vanished. Mia tried calling her cell phone but she didn't answer. "Don't tell me she's lost at her age," Mia thought, and began to search for her. She found Maya transfixed by a rooftop Steel Samurai show. It seems that she was both exasperated and relieved.

Maya- she tagged along on Mia's shopping trip, but the second she spied a poster for a rooftop Steel Samurai show, she made a beeline for the roof. She got into a cheering battle with a mean-looking elementary school boy and really enjoyed the show. When the show was over, she reunited with an exasperated looking Mia. She gleefully led Mia to a burger restaurant so they could eat some burgers together.

Edgeworth- he treated himself to a drive along the coast in his red sports car... Well, that was the plan, but then he was pushed by his mentor Von Karma into being the driver for his shopping trip. As a reward for his service, he received a brand new Von Karma style, stylish and flashy summer suit.

Then there's Larry, who dragged Phoenix to a café to hit on its hot owner, and the judge who bought a wig.

"Apollo, Fulbright, Edgeworth, Klavier and Kristoph made visits to a nursery school near the courthouse. Which of them did the most pleasant activity with the children?"

Apollo acted out the story of the “Crying Red Ogre” for the children. Phoenix played the part of the blue ogre, and Apollo was the red ogre, and Apollo’s wailing moved the children to tears too. In a panic over all the crying, they got Trucy to cheer them up with a magic trick in which she made Apollo disappear.

Fulbright: He came dressed in a blinding white costume to teach the children about justice and put on a play. The children gave him thunderous applause... But when Jinxie, who had been forced to play the part of the heroine, saw Fulbright, she thought he was the ghost of an army general, got scared, and slapped a charm on his face.

Edgeworth and Gumshoe: He and Gumshoe were going to reenact the story of Kintarou (an old Japanese fairytale). Franziska handed Edgeworth the Kintarou costume she’d designed (If you've seen Ghibli's Spirited Away, recall what Bou, the giant baby, wears. That's what we're talking about here). Edgeworth fearfully asked “You... expect me to wear this...?” Gumshoe, who had painted his whole body black to play the role of a bear, told him “Of course, sir! It doesn’t fit me!” and shoved Edgeworth out on stage in it. Edgeworth quickly began to reconsider Gumshoe’s salary for next month.

Klavier and Kristoph: Kristoph started giving a boring lecture on the importance of law, and the kids were getting antsy. Seeing this, Klavier came over with his guitar to liven things up, performing a rock style arrangement of the “The Bear Went Over The Mountain". But then he threw in the unnecessary comment of “If any of you scratch the frets of my guitar, I’ll be suing for damage of property, ok?” And they both ended up getting kicked out.

"This survey is about who knows how to enjoy a sunny day at Gourd Lake the best"

Simon: To give Taka some exercise, Blackquill took him and Fulbright (who was on guard duty) out for some falconry. Things were going well until Taka heard something about this mysterious creature “Gourdy,” freaked out, flew into the little shop selling Gourdy merchandise and started making a huge mess. Blackquill and Fulbright gathered Taka up in a panic and hightailed it out of there as fast as they could.

Edgeworth had seen Phoenix home and on his way back passed by Gourd Lake. Just as he was starting to get bad flashbacks... he happened to hear Larry in the middle of a flirting attempt and got dragged in. The woman he was trying to put the moves on was a foreigner, and she and Edgeworth started chatting in her native language. Larry couldn’t understand and was annoyed that Edgeworth was apparently moving in on his target, so he sulked and blew up at Edgeworth.

Athena tried to play matchmaker for Apollo and Juniper, so she told them to meet her in the forest near Gourd Lake so that they would run into each other there and hopefully hit it off. Juniper got there first, expecting to find Athena, but when Apollo showed up, she panicked and hid behind a tree. While she was trying to gather her nerve to go talk to him, he wandered off and she lost sight of him.

Phoenix was at the park and he got caught by Larry who was doing his part time job of selling Samurai Dogs. Larry saw a pretty lady that he wanted to flirt with so he asked Phoenix to mind the shop while he was gone. Business was slow, so he called in all the WAA members to put their full range of skills to use. They seem to have managed to sell them all!

Gumshoe took Missile for a walk in the park. They stopped for a rest and Gumshoe fell asleep, so Missile slipped out of his collar and ran over to where the Samurai Dogs were being sold. He ate them all without Phoenix noticing. Phoenix handed things back over to Larry when he got back and Larry got in huge trouble for losing so much product.

"This survey is talking about how the cast spent their Valentines Day"

Trucy gave Polly chocolate for himself and some for Klavier and asked Apollo to give it to him for her. Klavier wasn’t in court when Apollo went to look for him, though, so he and Phoenix went to the prosecutors’ office together with their chocolate. On their way, though, Apollo found himself getting a lot of strange looks from Themis Legal Academy students.

Ema gave some chocolates to Phoenix to give to Edgeworth because she suddenly got called to a crime scene. Phoenix headed over to the prosecutors’ office but Edgeworth was in court and wasn’t there, so Phoenix waited out in front of the prosecutors’ office with this flashy, girly looking bag of chocolates. Edgeworth’s trial ended up going a long time and Phoenix got a lot of stares as he waited.

Edgeworth was hit by a pollen-filled spring breeze on his way back to the office and suddenly his eyes got all red and itchy and he was left sneezing and sniffling. Phoenix came to talk to him and got quite a surprise when he saw the state Edgeworth’s face was in. The chocolates Ema gave him were in the shape of the Steel Samurai and they made Edgeworth so pleased that it seemed to ease his suffering a little.

Flower Viewing:

Phoenix and Apollo go to the park early to hold flower viewing spots for the WAA members. They see some people from around town that they know who ask them to hold their spots while they go and grab this or that. Phoenix and Apollo do their best to hold those people’s spots and in the process lose their own. They end up begging Edgeworth to let them share his and Klavier’s spot.

White Day:

Because of his painful memories about Valentine’s Day from elementary school, he doesn’t like Valentine’s Day or White Day that much. As a return gift to his beloved daughter, he gave her painstakingly handmade magic panty shaped chocolates. Apparently he forced the ones that didn’t turn out on Edgeworth...

Klavier was holding a ladies only concert, which he invited Trucy to. Phoenix was worried about letting Trucy be out at night by herself, so he sent Apollo along in disguise (as a woman!!). But Klavier saw through Apollo’s disguise easily and to Apollo’s horror, called him up on stage.

Autumn/Moon Viewing:

Phoenix, Edgeworth and Larry went to collect chestnuts together. Larry was too focused on looking for chestnuts and not watching where he was going and fell down the mountain slope. Phoenix had tried to catch Larry but he ended up falling too and spraining his ankle slightly. Edgeworth had to carry Phoenix on his back down the mountain.

Apollo went moon viewing with the rest of the WAA. It turned out into kind of an office party and Apollo had drink after drink while assuring everyone that “I’m fine!” but ended up getting pretty hammered. He proceeded to pass out and Phoenix took care of him.

Obon Festival:

Klavier performed a bonfire festival dance version of the Guitar’s Serenade at the summer festival and Apollo provided the taiko drum backup. He filled the gaps in the taiko drumming with his chords of steel, and it was a very energetic bonfire dance.

Edgeworth noticed the festival going on on his way home from work and decided to have a look. He saw Phoenix selling Samurai Dogs and desperately wanted one, but couldn’t bear the thought of Phoenix finding out that he was a Steel Samurai fan. He hemmed and hawed in front of the festival stall, trying to decide whether to buy one, but they sold out before he could make up his mind.

Phoenix went to the festival with Maya. Larry, who was working the Samurai Dog stand, called them over and forced them to watch the stand while he made a booty call. Phoenix and Maya’s manzai comedy duo style vocal advertising was so successful that they quickly sold out.

Christmas:

Phoenix, Trucy, Athena, Apollo and Pearl all spent the night at the office after their party wrapped up. Phoenix put presents next to the kids' pillows during the night.

Edgeworth grumbled about having to play Santa but dressed up anyway and snuck in at night to bring the younger ones at Phoenix's office some presents. He accidentally ends up sneaking into Phoenix’s room instead.

Apollo wanted to be a good big brother to Trucy and Pearl, so he snuck into their rooms to leave gifts but tripped over something, let out a Chords of Steel volume shout as he fell and ruined the surprise/

Klavier, as a favor to Trucy, snuck in dressed as a Visual Kei style Santa, but he announced his arrival with a rock arrangement of Santa Claus is Coming to Town and got caught and kicked out.

Blackquill had to make a jailbreak in order to play Santa, was chased down and Phoenix woke to find the police surrounding his office.

DGS Edition

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shotomyheart · 3 years

Text

bf!bakugou hcs

bakugou x gn reader

warnings: drabble contains some tough love bc bakugou but its still soft,, and reader has hair

note: hopefully a comfort post for @doinmybesthere sorry if it’s eh

-if you have a relative that likes to go fishing he would absolutely go on fishing trips with them with or without you

-pretends to hate slobbery dogs but if you get one with him he’ll spoil “that damn mutt”. i can picture him perfectly petting the dog for the first time and being like “huh not that bad” until the dog moves and he sees the puddle of dog spit on his pants leg

-now this is rarely, BUT, i do strongly believe there are a few movies that will actually make him cry (one of them being UP, which you absolutely think is hilarious)

-if you have stuffed animals in your room and bakugou is waiting for you, he has no problem taking a nap on your bed, cuddling a stuffed friend pretending its you (will 100% deny it tho)

-genuinely thought all girls liked pink

-gives you an arrangement of flowers on your first date. he couldn’t pick just one type of flower, so he did his best

-thinks kissing in the rain is stupid but only because he’s afraid of you (or him lol) getting sick

-loves to take naps on your lap!!

-going to new restaurants for dates is very important for him. he loves seeing you dress up and knowing he is the one who gets to take you out. cooking and food are his love language, and loves to critique everything with you as if you’re on your own cooking show. this is so fun to him, he even pretends his salad fork is a microphone and asks you questions about the dish. whether you know anything about cooking or not, you’ll answer full heartedly because he hasn’t stopped smiling and you never want him to

-makes you coffee every morning and always takes your first sip to check if it’s too hot or not

-once you brought him thrifting and he found an All Might figurine that he’s always wanted and now he asks to go whenever you two have time

-drums on any part of your body when he’s bored, no matter where you are; talking to a stranger? he’s bopping to his own tunes lightly tapping your head. relaxing at home? he has a full rock show on your butt. cuddled up on his chest? he’s multitasking by watching the movie you put on and drumming on your stomach

BONUS: comfort drabble

You’ve been crying for a few hours, and Bakugou had been busy all day until now. He knew what happened because Mina told him, which is why he’s home early. A friend of yours betrayed your trust and it’s really hitting you hard.

Bakugou walks into your room cautiously, a small meal in hand, a water bottle in the other. He sets them down by your bedside table. You’re under the covers, until Bakugou scowls and rips the blankets off of you. Your face is tear stained and your hair is a wild mess, but you give him a weak smile to ease his worry. He crosses his arms, not believing it, and you sigh, sitting up next to him, your head hanging low.

“You’re not weak for being kind,” Bakugou grumbles, “you’re not stronger for it either, so don’t think you’re stronger than me or some bullshit,” he nudges you roughly, making you choke out a laugh. “It’s just who you are,” he looks away, a small blush covers his nose and cheeks, “and I love who you are so don’t go ‘round changing shit for some dumbass extra that doesn’t appreciate you, got it?!” He wraps an arm around your shoulders to bring you to his chest, he gives you a forehead kiss, but keeps his lips on your skin, “Being strong means being who you are and killing it, and I don’t have a weak ass partner.” His voice is gruff, but soft. “So, cry it out a bit more if ya need to, but once you’re done, we’re forgetting about those shit-heads, okay?” He gives you a squeeze until you nod your head. “Good.” He lazily traces shapes on your spine, lulling you to sleep in his arms.

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forever-rogue · 3 years

Note

5 with Bucky?

-💛

Prompts | 5. “I’m sick of being useless.”

Pairing | Bucky x Fem!Reader

Warnings | language, mentions of injury, suggestive themes

Masterlists | Bucky, Main

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Let me come with you,” you frowned at Bucky as he vehemently shook his head. You threw your hands up in exasperation, momentarily contemplating pushing his chest to get your point across. You knew it would be in vain, so instead you put your hands on your hips and scoffed, “seriously, Buck? You’re just an asshole. You’re just saying no because you have some weird ego shit about it.”

“You don’t need to come along this mission,” he insisted, keeping his composure as you were the one that was nearing a meltdown. You hated how calm he could be, especially when you wanted to get an actual answer out of him, “it’s not safe. Sam and I will handle it on our own.”

“I helped you idiots in Europe, in Madripoor, and here in New York,” you reminded him as he hung his head and sighed lightly. There had definitely been some wild adventures as you’d tagged along with the two of them. The first time it had been inadvertent and you’d just happened to be there along with Bucky. The other times you’d invited yourself along, much to his chagrin, despite proving useful, “I can do this. I can help. You know I can.”

“But we don’t need you to,” he insisted, flexing his jaw in the way that would normally make you want to jump him then and there. Today it just worked to put fire into your blood, “we can handle it on our own.”

“You’ve been shielding me ever since we got back from Delacroix,” you huffed, folding your arms across your chest as you glared at him, “I don’t need you to protect me. I’m sick of feeling useless when the two of you are working and I’m left behind. I’m not a super soldier or anything, but I’ve got skills too.”

A tense silence fell over the two of you as you stared at each other. Bucky sighed as he ran a hand over his face as you attempted to push past him. But he was quicker and his vibranium fingers latched around your wrist in a firm grasp, “stop and listen to me for a moment and quit acting like a brat.”

“I’m busy being annoyed at you,” you pouted at him as he relaxed slightly when he realized you weren’t going to fight him off, “let me go, Buck.”

“The reason I keep you away from what we do is not because I don’t think you’re capable or that I don’t trust you,” he insisted as he pulled you into body as if you were nothing but a rag-doll. Your chest was pressed against his as he watched you closely, your breath suddenly hitching in your throat as his hands found your waist, “I want to keep you safe. Your safety is my main goal - my only priority.”

“Nothing’s ever happened,” you couldn’t help but chance at his lips as you subconsciously licked your own, “I’ve always been safe.”

“We both know that’s a lie, sugar,” he insisted, his fingers grazing over the scar on your hip from where you’d gotten stabbed by one of Karli’s Flag Smashers in Europe. Bucky had almost lost his mind at the injury and wanted nothing but vengeance, but that wasn’t him anymore. Instead his focus had been on getting you safe and treated - everything else could wait for later, "or have you so easily forgotten about this? That you now have because of me."

"I don't have that because of you," you grabbed his jaw in your hand and forced him to look at you. His ocean eyes were tinged with fear but slowly melted as you stared at him, "I hope you don't truly believe that. It happened in the moment - it could have been anyone. I just happened to be on the receiving end."

"Exactly...it was you."

"It was a one time thing, baby," you promised as you brushed your lips against his, "its not going to happen again, I swear it. I know you protect me - I am also more capable than you think."

"Its not you I don't trust," he almost moaned into your mouth as you carded your arms around his neck, "its everyone else."

"I know," you agreed as your kisses grew more frantic, “but there’s always going to be shitty people in the world, but I know you’ll be there to help me. Fuck, I love you.”

“I would tear anyone from limb to limb if they even thought about hurting my girl,” he insisted as he parted from you to catch his breath. You gave him a moment to recollect himself before gently pulling on his dog tags and pulling him back down to your lips.

“How do you think I would feel if anything happened to you, my honey baby?” you whispered before trailing kisses along his jaw, “I would hurt anyone that even came near you with bad intentions.”

Bucky effortlessly picked you up as you wrapped your legs around his waist as he carried you towards the bedroom. His lips almost never parted from yours as he tried to keep you as close to him as possible. After having been denied of touch and intimacy for so long, he craved it more than anything - especially from you. There was nothing he loved more than getting to feel your skin on his skin, to feel your heart beating in time with his.

"I love you, Bucky," he trailed kisses down your neck as he laid you down on the bed. He stopped for a moment as he studied you, a hand gently going to your face as he stroked your cheek.

It was then that he reached around his neck and slowly pulled off his dog tags, letting them glint into the light for a moment. Your lips parted slightly as he gently placed when around your own neck, letting them fall in the valley of your breasts.

"There," he leaned down to kiss you, "now everyone knows you're my girl. Don't take them off."

"Never," you promised him softly, "you're a fool sometimes but I love you so much, Bucky."

"A fool for being protective-"

"Overprotective," you grinned as he nipped at the skin of your neck.

"Fine," he smirked against your skin, "call me overprotective, but I still love you."

"I love you too," you promised, "now hurry up and fuck me."

"Yes ma'am."

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Marvel Taglist (add yourself to a taglist here!)(strike-through means I couldn’t tag you - please check your settings)

@qhbr2013 @greeneyedblondie44 @april-showers-and-flowers @softboiipascal @im-an-adult-ish @patzammit @niki-xie @xxlovingfandomsxx @startrekkingaroundasgard @welcometothepedroverse @actual-spawn-of-satan @punkerthanpascal @lazybeeches @someday-when-you-leave-me @justgivemethekeys @salome-c @rosiefridayrogersunday @neptunesglow @artsymaddie @haildoodles @amneris21 @star017 @irepostthingsiwanttoseelater @its–fandom–darling @ayamenimthiriel @alyispunk @djarinbarnes @edencherries @ashamed23 @sunsetskywalkerr @nikkixostan @spookispunk @cable-kenobi @hrtsgetbrkn @ironicfoxes @iilwjbb @cc13723things @thenormreedus @gooddaykate @natthebattygeologist @sociallyantisocialbutterfly @n3ssm0nique @daughterofthenight117 @riddikulus-obsessions @imaginelover88 @saint-bvcky @banana-cheese-cake @sleep-tight1 @missstef23 @moonlacebeam @asylummara @wakandabiitch2

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you

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veilder · 3 years

Note

"I thought you left" "Nope, just making pancakes" - Convin

Okay, so, I love this prompt and I promised I'd try to write it so... I actually did this last week at like 2 am and have been too busy to edit it until now. But I'm kinda sick of trying to puzzle it out so just take it please, omg.

(Prompt from this post if anyone's curious.)

Stay

The sun was already high in the sky when Gavin finally blinked awake. He could tell because there was one fuckin sliver of window he could never manage to cover with the blackout curtains hanging up in his bedroom and the goddamn sun was shining right in his fuckin eyes, Jesus Christ! With a groan, he rolled over, squeezing his eyes shut in a futile attempt to go back to sleep. But even that small burst of cognizance had its consequences. Gavin could feel the awareness creeping in fast, God fuckin dammit. Was a little shut-eye too much to ask for? But there was something... Something niggling at the back of his mind. It itched at instincts well-honed by over a decade on the force and not even his most earnest desire to return to oblivion could keep it at bay. Restlessly, Gavin huffed out a disgruntled sigh as he kicked at the covers, frustrated despite himself at being roused after the night he’d had— Like a shock passing through his body, Gavin’s eyes snapped open, memories of the previous evening flashing through is mind. But just as readily, a heaviness settling deep in his heart as he took in the other side of the bed. The sheets were mussed and the pillow indented, a clear sign of its former occupant. Evidence as plain as day told Gavin that last night hadn’t been some delusion or dream. And yet… He reached out a hand, an involuntary, desperate motion, tracing the outline where his partner had lain. Where Connor had lain. But just as he’d feared, the sheets were cold. They matched the ice filling his heart. Slowly shuffling upright, Gavin leaned back against the headboard as memories of the previous day filled his waking mind. Flashes of the case he and Connor had worked together rushed by in a flurry. The tip-off for the perp they’d been tracking for weeks and the reckless chase that followed. The abandoned warehouse. The shootout. Vivid Thirium across dirty concrete. Connor had taken a bullet for him. Gavin remembered staring up into those brown eyes, watching as a splatter of blue burst from his chest. "I'm fine," Connor had said, "the bullet didn't nick anything important." And even though the android had gotten right back up and proceeded to almost single-handedly take down the rest of the hostiles attacking them, it was still a moment Gavin knew would haunt him for a long-ass time. Shit was enough to give him nightmares. It did give him nightmares, in fact. Which is how the two of them had ended up back here. In Gavin's apartment. Together. Because after that little fiasco, after the gang had been arrested and the hostages recovered and both he and Connor had been checked over by a medic and technician respectively, it still left the job far from complete. Needless to say, Gavin had eventually nodded off at his desk after a long night of interrogation and paperwork, the rushes of adrenaline and fear more than even his beloved coffee could contend with. He only meant to rest his eyes for a moment. Just a moment and then he'd finish up. But when he awoke some indeterminate time later, it was to his own voice screaming, Connor's name upon his lips, Connor's blue blood scattered across the darkest corners of his mind, Connor's hand upon his shoulder jostling him awake. The android’s LED was flashing a violent red as he stared Gavin down, his brown eyes wide with worry. Gavin couldn't help but cling to him, something twisting, clenching in his heart and demanding he hold on tightly. From there, things had passed in a blur, though he remembered Fowler's imposing figure ordering the both of them to take the next few days off. Too tired and distressed to argue, Gavin agreed immediately, only too glad to get the fuck out of there and go home. And Connor? Connor insisted he drive Gavin home. Connor insisted he make sure Gavin got to his door. Connor insisted that he get Gavin to his bed. And Gavin, still clinging to the android with every last bit of his flagging strength, let him. Over and over he let the android steer him along, trusting a partner fully for the first time in... For the first time

in far too long. And when Gavin had finally settled, comfortable yet shivering in his too-large bed, he took a moment to insist right back. "Stay," he'd said. One word. One plea. A lifetime of wanting to not be alone wrapped up in a single syllable. A few short weeks of shifting worldviews and growing affections cradled in four letters. A wealth of experience in loss stealthily couched within a breath. Gavin insisted. And Connor stayed. Or, at least Gavin thought he had. Because here and now, in the stupidly bright light of day, he was alone again. Like always. He didn't know why he'd expected otherwise. He really should've known better. After all, why would Connor want to hang around here? Especially after his fuckin embarrassing little act last night, fuck. He probably had loads of things to do. Important... android things... People to meet. Places to be. He wouldn't waste his entire day sitting around in Gavin's shitty apartment while he slept like a log. How fuckin stupid would that be? It didn't mean anything. Gavin told himself this over and over again as he shifted, swinging his legs out from under the covers and onto the floor. Just because they could be considered friends now didn't mean Connor had to drop everything for him. Just because he'd begging him to stay didn't mean Connor owed him anything. He'd probably felt uncomfortable as hell last night, what with Gavin whining and bitching at him like a fuckin child. Probably said what he could to mollify him before getting the hell out of Dodge. Gavin couldn't even blame him for that. Fuck, Connor'd just had emergency maintenance done! Because of Gavin! Like hell he'd want some handsy human all over him for ten straight hours, Jesus Christ. It didn't mean anything. Even if he wished it did. His stomach picked that moment to rumble, thankfully interrupting his little pity-party. Thank fuck. It was too early in the morning (or afternoon technically) to be crying over stupid shit. He was probably just hungry. Yeah, that's it. He's all fuckin emotional cause he hadn't eaten in almost 24 hours. It didn't matter that Connor fucked off ASAP, Gavin could get some waffles delivered. Waffles never fuckin betrayed him. He could trust waffles. With newfound resolve, Gavin stood, fumbling for his phone on the nightstand before scrolling through his food delivery aps to see if he could get waffles from anywhere at two in the fuckin afternoon. With heavy tread he stepped out into the hallway, mouth already watering at the prospect and stomach rumbling again in agreement. Fuck, he could almost smell them already. Wait. No, he can smell them? What the fuck?! Before Gavin could do anything more but stand there in his pajamas, wide-eyed and mystified, a figure stepped into view. Instinctively, Gavin's heart raced, adrenaline flooding his veins as the threat of a home invader cycled through his brain. In that fraction of a second, he was prepared to dive into an all-out brawl with the bastard. He was not in the mood for this shit! But then said bastard's lips quirked into a dazzling grin and a brown-eyed gaze sent Gavin reeling in disbelief. While his brain was preoccupied with keeping his suddenly-weak legs standing, his idiot mouth opened up on it's own: "I thought you left,” he said, choking on his disbelief. Connor (because of course it was Connor) only quirked his head to the side in that cute way he does, looking for all the world like the dogs he so adored. His LED flashed a single, swirling yellow before settling back to blue and he said, "No, I was just making pancakes. I thought perhaps you might be hungry." A strange hesitance entered his voice, some dour note falling across his features. "Did you want me to leave?" "No!" Gavin blurted out in a moronic, high-pitched squeak because again, he was nothing if not an idiot. (And one destined to embarrass himself at every possible moment at that.) Clearing his throat, he tried again. "I mean, you can do whatever you want. Doesn’t matter to me." (He's lying through his teeth. It obviously did matter to him. It

mattered a huge fuckin deal!) Connor blinked at him, the only sign of the awkward atmosphere between them the flashing colors at his temple. "Your words run contrary to both your body language and your involuntary actions," he said, "And they are a direct counterpoint to your request last night." Gavin fidgeted, knowing the damn android was right but never in a million years wanting to admit it. "Stop analyzing me, dipshit, it's too early for this." Finally, Connor's face relaxes a bit, a smile smile stealing across his lips. "It is two thirty-three in the afternoon, Gavin. Far from early." "Oh, can it, Poindexter! You know what I mean!" With a huff, Gavin moves forward, sidling past his annoying house guest. "What was that about pancakes?" Connor beams at him as the two of them enter the kitchen. "Ah yes. I determined that you would be hungry after going so long without food. I managed to make due with your atrocious grocery selection and have prioritized calories over nutrition for the time being. But just this once.” While Connor seemed dead set on critiquing the apparently-lackluster pantry he’d been forced to bravely overcome, Gavin only had eyes for the heaping pile of flapjacks sitting at his breakfast nook, fluffy and golden brown and still steaming. Fresh off the griddle, holy shit. How did he…? Despite his hunger, Gavin looked over at Connor questioningly. It was almost like the android could read his mind (which was a scary fucking thought) as he answered his unspoken query immediately: "I calculated your sleep cycle based off the Circadian rhythms I observed during your convalescence. I'm glad I timed it right. I wanted you to enjoy your breakfast." "It's past 2 pm," Gavin retorted with a smirk, "can't be breakfast now, hotshot." Connor's answering smile made Gavin want to melt into a puddle and he quickly turned away, staring at said breakfast with a helpless desperation. "Indeed," the android said, heedless of his partner's distress. "Regardless of the time of day, I wanted you to enjoy your meal, nonetheless." And something more vulnerable finally stole into his voice then, the merest shadow of his quiet pleas from the night before. "I thought, perhaps, you might consider them an offering." Gavin tore his gaze away from his not-breakfast then, looking up at his partner with enough confusion to drive out all other complicated emotions. "What offering? What the fuck are you talking about, tincan?" And now Connor was the one to look away. "It's just that..." He drew in a deep breath (though Gavin knew it was only him mimicking humans. Fucker didn't actually need to breathe) and continued, "yesterday... Yesterday frightened me. When I saw that gunman aiming at you, I—" He clenched his eyes shut, LED flashing a dangerous red. "In that moment, I preconstructed a multitude of outcomes, many of them where you did not survive. In which that bullet found its mark. And the thought of it, Gavin!" he wails. "I couldn't—! The thought was unbearable! And so I calculated the best result. And I determined my course of action. And you lived. You lived. And I thought that would be the end of it. But..." Finally, Connor looked up, his eyes meeting Gavin's head-on once more. "It was like a glitch. The preconstruction, it— It kept resurfacing again and again and again, every time you were out of my sight. And I... I disliked the feeling immensely. I think perhaps I hated it, even. And so I did my best to linger. I didn't want to leave you. Even though I knew you were safe, I still... It was so irrational but I still wanted to verify that you were okay. I still do." Before them the pancakes were growing cold, but neither paid them any mind. Connor looked away again, eyes shut. "I thought that, perhaps you had figured this much out last night. Which is why you asked me to stay. Because we are friends now and that's what friends do. But I worried that I may have... forced the issue... in my desperation. And I-I... I wanted to do something for you in return for your generosity." Looking down at the cooling

breakfast, Connor's face fell further. "I know it's not much but I thought at least—" Gavin had heard enough. "Okay, okay, okay, hold the fuck up, dumbass!" He stood, breakfast forgotten, and approached the shocked android with a fierce determination. Jabbing a finger directly into Connor's chest, he stated as sternly as he could, "You don't owe me a goddamn thing! For fuck's sake, Connor! You fuckin saved my goddamn life yesterday! You took a fuckin bullet for me! And even after that, you still fuckin stayed with me and made sure I got home safe!" A growl rumbled through his chest as Gavin poked Connor again. "I was having a fuckin nightmare about you dying! When you woke me up in the precinct! Did you know that?!" Connor shook his head but Gavin only poked him a third time, this time with much less force. He left his hand there, palm splayed across where his heart would be were he human. "That shit kept replaying for me, too. Over and over again. So I get it. I get wanting to 'verify.' I was doing the same thing. That's why I asked you to stay. Because I fuckin—! I wanted you here, okay?! Because the idea that you were hurt or injured or fuckin dead had me panicking!" He brought his other arm up now, slinging it around Connor's broad shoulders in a half-embrace, and leaned in, burying his face in the android's neck. "That shit's unbearable to me, too, tincan. Thinking of this fuckin trash heap of a world without you in it is—" He sucked in a breath. "Can't stand the thought." They stood there for what felt like an eternity (though it was probably only a few seconds) before slowly—tentatively—Connor brought his own arms up to squeeze around Gavin. He held him with a brittle tenderness, his touch light and careful as if he was afraid Gavin might break. And fuck, maybe he would. Maybe Connor could shatter him into a hundred-thousand little pieces. But shit, he'd take it. Because Gavin would never have been in this situation in the first place if Connor hadn't broken right through his walls first, scattering him and leaving him adrift in a strange, new world. And when he’d managed to build himself back up, it was into something—someone—stronger. Someone who could look at the world and see progress instead of oppression, opportunity instead of limitations, people instead of just machines. Connor had shattered his body once before down in the archives. He'd shattered his mind too over these last few months. It’d only make sense for him to shatter his heart as well. But he didn't. He wouldn't. And as Connor held him like a thing to be cherished, Gavin felt again that perhaps he'd been right last night. Perhaps this was a partner he could trust. A partner who could trust him, too. And perhaps he would— "Stay."

_____________

Bonus:

Connor: "Okay, but only if you eat your pancakes. I didn't download an entire cooking catalogue for you to let them go to waste, Gavin." Gavin: "Fuckin bite me, we're having a moment here." Connor: "Is your stomach rumbling part of that moment?" Gavin: "God fucking dammit, I fuckin hate you." Connor: ^_^ "False!" Gavin: "Fuck!"

And they lived happily ever after. ♥

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thunderheadfred · 3 years

Text

❄️Todoroki HC's🔥

Aged-up pro hero Shouto. NSFW under the cut. Minors do not interact.

- - -

General

Might as well be tied with Bakugou for the #1 pro hero spot; they seem to pass the crown back and forth every other year. Everyone knows about their intense frenemies uber-rivalry. Well. Everyone but Shouto.

He's asked to speak at a lot of charity events. If he has time to prepare (and hire a speech writer) he is capable of stirring crowds to standing ovations. But if caught unawares... he gets cornered into hilarious on-the-spot interviews. He's been memed. Mercilessly.

He's an OP character, but unfortunately he rolled -500 in fashion sense. Eventually he wises up and hires a stylist. When he finally cuts his hair a slightly different and even more flattering way, it's a national event. People faint in the street.

Does god-awful sleight-of-hand magic tricks when he meets young fans, even though nobody asked him to. The second-hand embarrassment is palpable. But he keeps doing it. God, why does he keep doing it?

Has hovering arm syndrome in every fan photo.

Super into pop music. Not a fan of any particular group or artist, couldn't tell you the name of a single song. But every time he turns up the volume on the radio it's like... really? THIS? Probably pumps that shit through his hero agency to keep up morale. Has no idea what you mean when you tell him his music taste doesn't match his personality.

Similarly, he enjoys brainless romantic comedies and old silent movies. Doesn't laugh at jokes but loses it over physical comedy. Thinks Buster Keaton and Harold Lloyd are the funniest people who ever walked the earth.

He's long and limber. Runs practically a hundred miles every day just to "relax." Doesn't even get sweaty doing it. A filthy yoga addict. He'll probably live to be 200 years old.

He can regulate his body temperature for quirk use but in everyday life he's always half a degree outside the Goldilocks zone. It drives him quietly insane; he has an epic love-hate relationship with his thermostat.

Has a therapy animal pet. Doesn't matter if it's a dog or a cat or a bird or an iguana or a teeny tiny rodent. It's the best-behaved animal in the country and speaks more languages than you. It has its own room and an instagram account with millions of followers.

Lives in a traditional Japanese estate that doubles as a national treasure. Probably has government-appointed snipers at the gate, and he's just like, "don't worry about it." You are afraid to touch anything. Fuck, don't even look at anything, just to be safe.

Has an outstanding personal chef who only gets to cook five things unless (thank fuck!!) company comes over. Impossibly picky eater. He rotates between a few "safe" foods and suspiciously side-eyes everything else. If you cook something unfamiliar for him it will be the most awkward meal of your life, because he'd never tell you he doesn't like it. But oh lord, just look at his face.

This clashes directly with his love of traveling. Frequently uses his hero earnings to visit exotic foreign locales over long weekends... but rarely tries the food.

- - -

Dating

A grey-ace demisexual disaster. You could count the number of people he's been attracted to on one hand. He falls madly in love every time and always gets his heart smashed to pieces when his crush can't magically intuit the meaning of his frigid longing glances and generically courteous romantic gestures.

Which is stupid, because he gets propositioned constantly. He can't walk out the door without being flirted with. People keep slipping him their phone numbers and he always directs them to his agency like a moron. It's a good thing he will never understand how attractive he is because that's the only thing keeping him from total world domination.

Conventional attractiveness does not compute. Shouto doesn't have a type, doesn't care that he's an eleven whilst you are merely mortal. He will fall for your personality above all else.

Probably falls head over heels because your schedules overlap in a completely ordinary way and he witnesses you doing something endearing or brave or most likely: utterly mundane.

Pick a favorite, because you're his favorite coworker, or his favorite barista, or his favorite random bystander in line at the grocery store. You made him smile once; then he spent the next three months daydreaming about your future together before you accidentally stomped on his foot, initiating your first real conversation.

He's big on healthy communication. HUGE. He goes to therapy and it shows. Will talk through literally everything to the point of delirium. Sometimes his dedication to resolving every issue right away can get overwhelming; sometimes you just need some frickin time alone. But it pays off, because the two of you have practically never have a "real fight." There's just no way for bad vibes to fester.

STILL, his family wasn't exactly... erm... verbally or emotionally supportive, shall we say. For that reason, he might not give you all the compliments you deserve, because it simply doesn't occur to him to do so. He assumes you know how he feels. If you're self-conscious or insecure in the relationship, it might take him a while to notice. But when he figures it out (or even better, when you tell him directly) he will make it up to you with enthusiasm.

Will take you on lavish dates. Spoils you rotten without actually intending to. He's clueless about money. If you wanted a sugar daddy, you just hit the fucking jackpot. But if the word valet makes you uncomfortable, perhaps suggest some romantic picnics instead. He can still go all out with the food and five-star location without making you see cartoon dollar signs.

Chronic Insomniac. Stays up too late watching YouTube every night. His viewing history is an incomprehensible blur of k-pop music videos, serial killer icebergs, and super girly crafty ASMR channels. When he's watching a video, he is unreachable. Please call back later and try again.

He's disgustingly cute when he sleeps. Doesn't snore, but drools. Sometimes the drool freezes and leaves frost trails on his face in the morning. Still sleeps with the giant stuffed cat pillow that his mother gave him when he was like, zero. He'll inadvertently suffocate you with it, and you will welcome death with open arms because awwwwww!!!!!

The first time he tells you he loves you will be after your traditional Japanese shinto wedding. You won't hear it again until you start a family. Honestly, it's a good thing he doesn't say it often and is always holding you when it happens. It's a knee-buckler.

- - -

Icy-Hot

I don't even need to say it. Shouto is as old-fashioned as they come. You will never open another door or pull out another chair for yourself as long as you live. He will ask before he holds your hand. He will ask before he kisses you. He will stop and check in if you so much as breathe funny during sex.

If you don't orgasm at exactly the same time while staring into one another's eyes, he'll consider himself a failed lover. God forbid you want him to pound you into the futon... cause you are going to have to present that scenario to him in writing first.

Physical intimacy rarely leads to sex. He loves cuddling, craves physical affection. He'll sprawl all over you and turn into goo while you hold him close. He's an amazing, astounding, phenomenally good kisser. And that's... nice and all... but sometimes you have to grab his face and say, "Shouto, I'm horny," before he's like so that's why you're currently dry-humping me?

Even if he isn't technically a virgin the first time (or the millionth time) you sleep together, you won't know the difference. He's a blushing violet. Every. Fucking. Time. This doesn't mean he's a bad lay, oh no. But there's always ten minutes of confused bumbling before he hits his stride and remembers oh yeah, I DO know how to fuck good.

Absolutely silent during sex. Focused. Intense. Sometimes you have to push him a little to make any kind of noise at all, just so you know you're pleasing him (oh don't worry, you are).

His cock is Just Right. Not to big or too small. Perfectly proportioned and symmetrical. Somehow pretty. Like a fucking factory prototype. It truly is not fair.

Gets handsy and restless at night, even if you both have work the next day. Seems to crave sex at three in the morning. You've given him more than one exhausted handjob.

Gets offended if you don't cum. Will go down on you for hours. Of course he uses his quirk to tease you. He doesn't typically use it during actual intercourse, but he's all about foreplay, and he'll use every tool in his arsenal.

His sex drive is completely fucking unpredictable. Sometimes he's all over you, other times he's an icy slab. His line of work leaves him busy and stressed on a near-constant basis, so you can't entirely blame his personality for this one. Just give him some time and help him take care of his basic needs. He'll come back around soon enough.

#todoroki shouto #todoroki x you #todoroki x reader #todoroki x y/n #gender neutral reader #todoroki headcanons #bnha headcanons #mha headcanons #smut #fred writes #bnha #mha

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sparkledfirecracker · 3 years

Text

Deeds For The Big Screen

I see writing as a form of creative artwork with everyone having its own liking or preference to it.

Do not interact if you are uncomfortable with any of the given warnings or if you are a minor.

Your media consumption is your own responsibility, proceed to read with care. Warnings have been up and mentioned, if I missed any please feel free to let me know.

Warnings: 18+, explicit sexual content, explicit language, sexwork, porn industry, vaginal fingering, unprotected sex, oral receiving (f), swearing

Rating: explicit

Pairing: Ari Levinson x Female Reader

Summary: You’re taking power into your hands when your actors don’t seem to do their job and are wasting expensive production time.

Word count: 3006

A/N: This might be a little rusty, I haven’t done this in a while, but some creators have inspired me to pick up writing again! Fairly new to Tumblr, despite having an account for years and having done zero with it. Apparently me dreaming about different story ideas has become a thing now. So bear with me here. As said; if I missed any warnings please feel free to let me know.

@punani ’s ‘The Fluffer’ was inspiration for the chosen work field. So thank you for writing that magnificent piece.

English is not my native language; my grammar mistakes are purely my own. Constructive criticism is allowed and appreciated, I won’t bite unless you’re being rude.

I do not consent to have my work copied, reposted or translated on any other platform. Reposts on any given platform have been reposted without my permission or consent. By reading this, you agree that you are at least 18 years old!!!

Please do feel free to comment, like or reblog.

ENJOY!!!

---------------------------

Deeds For The Big Screen

Irritation bubbling underneath your annoyed expression, your lips tightly pressed together. Fingernails tapping aggressively on the armrests of your director’s chair. Your legs crossed, bouncing with frustration at the sight in front of you. It seemed liked the actors onsite were on a mission to make everyone’s life on set hell. Your hands grabbing the armrests your knuckles white from the intense grip of the edges of your chair.

You were a visionaire, adultery was your passion, you had been in the business for year before starting your own company. Focusing on the female friendlier porn demand had paid of well for you, your company was your pride and you thrived on the success. You ran a tight ship, time was money and currently both actors were wasting every second of it. The current creative project was not being envisioned at all. It had been meticulously drawn out on a storyboard, it seemed like everything that had been discussed and rehearsed was thrown out the window.

You let out an annoyed huff, it had been hours on end anything between action and cut. Your million-dollar superstar was propped on his elbows towering over the fragile body underneath him. His hips franticly pumping in and out of the actress underneath him, who was clawing her nails into his skin desperately. Was he really the problem or was it the useless woman caged underneath him. Her super loud moans that probably could be heard at the other side of the world and the quantity of clawing at his skin.

“CUT!!!” you yelled and everyone in the production stopped, heavy sighs heard across the studio. Your hands rubbed your face slightly not wanting to yell or lose control of the raging thoughts running through your mind.

“What’s wrong this time?” your most prized possession asked, the annoyance clearly dripping of his tone. He stood up facing you, his hands falling to his hips, sticking out his chest while his thick muscle stood proud against his pelvis. You couldn’t help but take in the sight, his cock was red and he was painfully hard. You licked your lips and took in a deep breath, trying to refocus on your thoughts.

“Alright let me make myself very clear here. The crew is TIRED and I am tired of fucking repeating myself” you took another deep breath as you felt anger rising “was I not clear enough when we had a table read yesterday and when we rehearsed this morning?” your eyes switching between the actors. No response “An answer would be nice, because that storyboard on the wall contains every movement of where body parts go during every fucking scene”

“Get the fuck out Y/N, you know storyboards only contains the major outlines of a grand story being told, it is different when you are pumping in and out of a body you know. You don’t always get to choose where a hand, leg or cock lands”

“Ari, we are in the god forsaken porn industry, that thick throbbing dick better end up in the fucking dripping vagina, between her lips or even in that nice and tight puckered hole” you could hear a few supressed snickers from the crew. Ari just kept staring you down “Right now all I see is stiffness, no passion, no fire and absolutely nothing that was on the fucking board or script”

“Whatever Y/N” Ari huffed, you rolled your eyes breaking the tension that was clearly building between you and Ari. You turned your gaze to Edie, who just sat there uncomfortably.

“Edie, can you just tone down on the moans, I know this is your first gig and a step up from the amateur adultery films you have done, but we are not in the cheap kind of porn. This is exclusive, sensual and soft sex. We make porn for the ladies and if it happens that men love it too so be it-” you clapped your hands together trying to get through to the actors in front of you “Also ease up on your facial expressions too they are just too much and stop clawing at Ari, we are not feral wolves in the outskirts of woodsy valley…” you pointed at her, the hostility evident in your voice, she just nodded your way she almost looked too scared to speak. Your attention turned to Ari, just by looking at him you knew he wouldn’t be able to take a lot more of your antics “-And for you mister, I need more open posture. We want to see those muscles work underneath that toned skin of yours. Flex them a little, you want the person watching this to drool from their mouths while their vaginas or arseholes are begging for your majestic cock. Yes, we can do this all rough and tough, but with this project we want fire, passion and mind-blowing sex. Understood?”

Both pornstars nodded your way and you sat back down in your chair. The actors taking their spots again, you raised your hand, cues being called across the room.

“ACTION!” Edie tried her utter best to contain her excessive sounds, but she looked like she was about to take a dump “CUT!”

“Y/N, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Ari yelled, jumping of the small platform, grabbing his robe from the floor, storming your way while putting on his robe, you got off your chair.

“Is it really that hard to do what I am asking? Edie you look like you are about to take a dump right in front of the camera” you lost control of the anger that had been boiling inside of you. Ari bumped into you, almost knocking you down, it must have been on purpose as you could sense his anger “where the fuck do you think you are going?” he spun on his heels

“I have been edged for hours on end, I need some form of release and it looks like our director is not going to let us get any release for a few more hours” Ari spat your way

“GET BACK HERE!!” you definitely lost control, watching Ari on a mission to march out of the studio “ARI I SAID GET BACK HERE”

“I AM NOT YOUR FUCKING A DOG!!!”

“YOU ARE MY FUCKING TOP DOLLAR DOG, SO YOU BETTER GET THE FUCK BACK BEFORE I FIRE YOU MYSELF” it was true, Ari was your million-dollar star, your company couldn’t have grown without him. He had been there from the beginning, you had him to thank for the success of your company and in return he had you to thank for his stardom.

Your words had made Ari stop in his tracks and turn around, the temperature in the room increasing quickly. You had started to doubt if the room had been that hot the entire time or if it was the arousal creeping through your veins caused by Ari’s deep angered gaze.

He charged your way his finger pointing at you and his mouth was moving, but your hearing seemed to have vanished. You contemplated if you should just show them what you meant or just call it a day. Things were getting heated and the crew was already exhausted enough. Your thoughts interrupted as your mouth started to speak.

“Do I really have to do everything around here?” you muttered under your breath “Edie get off the sunbed and put your robe on” she complied to your order, getting of the stage and putting on her silk robe. You took a moment to analyse your thought, to see if the voice inside your head would protest of what you were contemplating. Nothing came to mind, so instead you unbuttoned your sundress quickly before regretting your decision “Last attempt to film this guys, start rolling. Ari off with the robe, we start from the beginning. Edie take notes” you ordered around the room. Your sundress and underwear falling off your frame piling up next to your director’s chair.

“What are you doing baby girl?” Ari whispered in your ear as you walked backwards his hands holding your hips guiding you towards the double sunbed. His anger seemed to have disappeared and replaced with intrigue.

“Showing you what I want, but mostly taking what I need right now” you replied, he quirked an eyebrow, a smirk plastered on his face in approval “Let’s give them the show they want”

“The show you want” Ari chuckled as he corrected you, before narrowing his eyes a little “The big boss in action, I like it…” Ari whispered as he took in your naked body “I like it a lit” His confident spoken words made you a little insecure, but you hid it well trying to hold your nerves together.

You climbed on the sunbed laying back, your eyes wandered over Ari’s toned chest, his cock aching, your pussy throbbing. You licked your lips and the muscles in your core tightened with the exciting thought of him filling you up to the brim in a matter of minutes, you being at his complete mercy.

“ACTION!” you yelled

Ari crawled on top of you, your hands roamed freely over his arms and chest, his lips crashing on yours briefly before moving on to your neck and your upper torso. Your hands finding their way onto his shoulders, caressing the bare skin. You arched your back at the delight feeling when he sucked on your nipples, a low moan left your lips. Ari’s hands cradling your frame as he peppered kisses further south.

Your eyes following him, he looked back at you through his long lashes as two of his fingers tease your entrance, running gently through your folds. One thing was for sure, you were hot and bothered, all because of the eye candy encaging you in his porn play. He dipped two fingers in your aching core and pumped three times before they stilled inside you. His face coming up to meet yours, his eyes darkened and stole another passionate driven kiss.

His fingers starting pumping you faster earning a few unexpected deep moans. Your lips parting, your lust blown eyes were completely taken by the current moment. Your mind completely forgetting everything was being recorded. Ari’s fingers left your soaking cunt as he lowered his head and settled himself between your legs.

His mouth sucked your clit, you took in a sharp breath. His tongue firmly stroked downward on your slit, enough pressure for a controlled yet obscene moan to escape you. His tongue entered your dripping hole before returning his attention back to your clit. Ari’s fingers rejected as your vaginal muscle had tightened from the attention your clit was receiving. His mouth eased off and he pushed his fingers inside you, your cunt accepting, sucking them in.

The pleasure was almost too much, your hands caressing your upper body finding your breasts. With a feathered touch you rubbed your index fingers over your nipples, biting your bottom lip at the pleasure. Your touch made your nipples erect, the sensation spreading like wildfire through your entire body. Ari increased his pace and your moans and whimpers became more frequent, but in a more wanting and loving way.

Your back started to arch up and you were about to cum, when Ari stopped all his actions. Your eyes shot fully open to protest, but he shushed you by placing two of his fingers in your mouth allowing you a moment to taste yourself before retracting them. You watched him pump his hard cock with his hand, before he gripped your hips as his member slowly pushes down in your sopping cunt.

“Big enough for you princess” Ari grunted as he pushed fully into you.

“Y-Yes” the response was short and simple, your brain not functioning anymore when the pleasure had taken over from the thoughts. His tempo made your eyes roll backwards, your hips meeting his rhythm as he held a firm grasp on your hips helping and guiding you up and down on him. Without warning Ari stopped and flipped you over. A fistful of hair grabbed pulling you back, his grasp wasn’t harsh and only intensified your lustful awakening.

His left arm snaking around your waist finding your right boob, giving it a sinful squeeze, pinching your nipple between his fingers. He held your back close to his chest while his lips sucked pleasure marks on your neck and breathing heavily into your ear, whispering nothing but obscenities to you. Your arms lifted up and your hands fisted his hair, your fingernails scraping his scalp a little. He growled in your ear, you repeated your actions and he gave your hip a single firm squeeze.

His cock slowly being dragged in and out of you, your walls coating his thick veined cock. The squelching noises pulled from the juices being pulled from between your legs. Ari’s hands running freely over your skin setting it on fire. You felt fucked out and your orgasm was building rapidly.

Ari must have felt it as his hips started bucking up into you even faster, making is his mission to finish you. Your moans of sin becoming frequent again, Ari’s wandering hand slid in between your folds, rubbing your clit gently, pushing you even closer to the edge. One of your hands held onto his wrist holding it in the pleasurable place whilst the other placed on the nape of his neck, fingers gripping the hairs at the bottom.

Your orgasm washed over you as Ari let you ride out your high before pulling you off, laying you flat on the double sunbed. As you tried to calm your breathing he straddled you underneath him, pumping his member faster. The white strings of sin faltering out of his cock, you leaned up on your elbows and opened your mouth while he decorated your face and chest.

Licking your lips with his salty cum, you swallowed and stared back at Ari who seemed to enjoy the fucked out sight in front of him. When he had finished squirting his load on you, he cradled your head in his large hands, his thumbs running over your lips before leaning in to steal one last fiery kiss. You separated from the kiss and kept staring each other in the eyes for what felt like hours.

“Happy boss?” Ari questioned still holding your head gently as you nodded your head

“CUT!” you yelled, Ari climbed off of you and helped you up.

“WOW, that was amazing” Edie clapped being stunned by the scene that just had taken place.

“Thanks, hopefully a great lesson for you on what to do next time” you spoke, she smiled widely back at you when you walked towards your chair, picking up your clothes from the floor “Well done everyone, I think we all need a break and we’ll continue with fresh eyes tomorrow” a relieved cheer was heard “I’m off to have a shower, since I have become a Picasso art piece” you started walking towards the dressing room

“Worth millions” Ari spoke after you, you raised your middle finger at him without looking back at him. His loud laughter filled the room.

-----------------------------

You walked out of the building, rolling your eyes at Ari as he leaned against your car, one leg propped up on the tire, his arms folded and a cocky grin beaming back at you.

“There she is, my million dollar star” Ari clapped his hands before raising up his arms slightly and bowing down “I bless the ground you walk on peaches”

“Oh shut it Ari” you felt your cheeks burn, embarrassment bubbling underneath your skin. It was ridiculous, but you felt a little insecure “Hopefully good enough for what I want to get done” you continued walking towards the car, halting in front of Ari.

“Hopefully?” Ari raised an eyebrow “Peaches you were wonderful, you are in my top 3 ‘the best fucking sex I ever had’ so I guess for a retired pornstar you still possess your magic” you shoved him a little and his head fell back letting out a laugh “Don’t be embarrassed, I liked it a lot” his hands found their way on your waist pulling you into a hug, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Thank you Ari, but can you move out of the way, I want to go home, I am little worn out” “Must be because of my majestic cock” he laughed

“Don’t flatter yourself, it doesn’t suit you” you giggled “Why are you still here, I thought you left a while ago”

“Couldn’t stay away from you peaches, since you performed so well today” Ari wiggled his eyebrows

“Had to show you guys somehow, you were costing me a fortune” you pointed out, opening the car door, tossing your bag on the backseat.

“Would it make a difference if it was done on purpose?” Ari questioned, climbing into the driver’s seat. Your mouth had fallen open from the shock and your brain scrambled for words and phrases to throw Ari’s way. You opened the door on the passenger’s side and got into the seat.

“Are you telling me you put on an entire show so you could get your dick wet on the clock?”

“Had to fuck the brat right out of you somehow” his cocky grin beamed back at you. You knew he was taunting you if it wasn’t for his sunglasses shielding his eyes “You have always been such a perfectionist, so I knew you would fall for my well thought out trap”

“Well next time ask me to eat a snickers instead” you rolled your eyes as Ari started the car.

“Might need another round of fucking the brat out of you peaches” Ari grabbed your hand, pulling the intertwined hold to his lips and placing a kiss on top. Your cheeks flushed with heat at the thought of how intense your fuck session had been and what kind of ways you both would fuck one another later.

YIKES, that was a true adventure!!!

#ari levinson #ari levinson x you #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson x female reader #ari levinson x y/n #ari levinson smut #ari levinson fic #chris evans smut

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taeescript · 3 years

Text

29 + 1 (Part Two)

𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰: In which Seokjin is the Devil from The Devil Wears Prada, Taehyung is your work Jesus and Jimin is your handsome successful brother.

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: seokjin x reader (squint harder than before for taehyung x reader)

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢: slice of life; ceo!seokjin; a dash of enemies to lovers au

𝔴𝔠: 7.6k

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: language; a plethora of drunk people, maybe a sext, and a ton of lying (possible implication of impending smut?!)

𝔞/𝔫: this part came out longer than i thought it would be but *shrugs* feedback and thoughts always welcomed. enjoy (: 𝔡𝔦𝔰𝔠𝔩𝔞𝔦𝔪𝔢𝔯: DailyHive is real; this is not associated with it

part one || part three

The bright pop music that is blaring from the speakers does little to slow your animated talking. Bodies are packed into the small local bar, and students on summer break fill booths and form a snake of impatient, drunk (and horny) people. A slow trickle of the brazen has started to fill the dance floor as the evening morphs into the night.

You whip your hair into a ponytail and dab at the sweat that is beading your forehead. You definitely should have worn that sleeveless top rather than this thicker t-shirt dress.

“So, is he like your sugar daddy or something?” Taehyung asks, “Also drink.”

Friday nights were usually spent at home, snuggled under the blankets in your pjs binging another rewatch of Friends. After work today, you could no longer hold onto your secret and invited Taehyung out for drinks. His girlfriend, Fei, was supposed to join but had been held back for overtime.

You tip the shot back with no chase.

“You’re a monster,” he comments as he bites into his lemon piece.

The two of you had made a bet at the beginning of the evening: you each chose a pop song and each time it played, the nominee had to take a shot. That was your fourth of the night, and to say there was a bit of a buzz is an understatement.

“It’s all throat technique, Tae,” you say with a bit of a slur, “Hit the back and swallow. No innuendo intended. Also, why the hell haven’t you had any to drink?”

“You picked ‘Peaches’ for fuck’s sake.”

“I told you I don’t listen to pop music. It was the first one playing.”

“And shouldn’t that have told you something? Justin Bieber of all people?”

“Shut up. It’s your song.” You nod at the pink-faced barista for another round. She slaps your order in front of the two of you without so much a glance.

You don’t even know what song is playing, but you feel quite satisfied watching Taehyung make a face as he downs it in one go.

He clears his throat after the liquor has burned its way down to his stomach. “Back to my question: is he your sugar daddy?”

You bark out a laugh. Was he? Perhaps the fact that he paid for fancy meals at lunch? Those have been his one o’clock meetings for the past two months.

“I don’t know. I’d rather he buy me a car or pay my rent if anything. A casual 1k a week wouldn’t be so bad either. We just sit in his office and eat in secret, Tae. He’s ‘training me in the art of culinary cuisine’. I think it’s just so I don’t embarrass him by stuffing a shrimp cocktail up my nose.”

“You do know – ”

“Yes, I know. And I would never. It’s a metaphor. It’s just that the position ‘intern’ is quite loosely defined at DailyHive, don’t you think?”

Taehyung rinses his mouth with water before speaking. “So let me get this right. Mr. Kim calls you into his office, says he’s going to take you as his guest to the biggest tech event of the year, treats you to lunches and doesn’t ask for anything in return? No secret midnight meetups or shady business deals…”

You shake your head.

“Damn,” Taehyung says, resting his arm on the bar table, “Forget sugar daddy. He’s just daddy.”

Sticking your tongue out, you gag visibly at his comment. “Do not ever call him that again, Tae; ev-er.”

He laughs and watches you pensively. After a moment’s thought, he says, “Nobody has ever called me Tae.”

“What do they call you then?” you reply, wrinkling your brows together. A cute brunette across the room catches your eyes and for the briefest of seconds, you wonder what a one-night-stand would feel like.

He shrugs. “Just Taehyung.”

The brunette waves in your direction. You are about to return his wave when an equally cute brunette runs up to him. He promptly kisses her before swivelling her around to join his group of friends.

“Sorry. Do you want me to stop? I just assumed since we were out of the office…”

Oh Fate, how cruel you are. Life of twenty cats and solidarity, here you come. Maybe dogs. You feel like you could be more of a dog person.

“No,” he stops you, “You can call me Tae. Whatever you want.”

You turn your attention back on the also cute brunette in front of you. In all honestly, despite his youthful god-like countenance, he looks slightly out of place at this college bar with you in his upstanding business attire and dorkishly adorable thick-framed glasses.

“Sure. How about Tee-Tee? Or Hyungie? The TaeMan?” You wiggle your brows with the suggestion.

“God help me.”

The two of you clink your shot glasses together even though neither of your songs are being played.

His Apple watch lights up to indicate an incoming message. He relays the text to you, “Fei’s done work. She’s on her way now.” You can’t help but notice a shift in his previously excited demeanor.

You nudge him with your elbow. “Aren’t you excited? She’ll need a glass of wine or two to destress after work. I might be projecting onto you for this part, but you’re buzzed. So after we get her to unwind I’m sure the overwhelming power of pheromones will get you lucky tonight.” You wink at him to emphasize your point.

“She’s not a big drinker. She’s probably just going to come and ask to leave in five minutes. Bars like this aren’t really her thing either,” he states. He then unbuckles his watch and tucks it away into the pocket of his pants. Undoing the cuffs of his shirt, he rolls up the sleeves and continues to regard you solemnly. “Okay, next round is one me. Are you absolutely sure you don’t want to switch songs?”

You notice how nice, long, and slender his fingers are. Plus the thing of girls liking when men have visible veins on their forearm? That had never really caught your attention until now.

“She’s a bit of a bitch,” you say and immediately regret, “Shit, sorry. That just slipped out. Alcohol.”

He offers you his water to drink.

“I mean, she’s a little…uptight at times? But people can be completely different in and out of work. I can only imagine how stressful it is in her position. Working overtime until 9pm on a Saturday night seriously sucks,” you say to try and mend your wrongdoing.

“Fei in the office is basically Fei at home,” he says softly, “It’s always work with her.”

“We support career-driven women, yeah?” A smile is offered from you to him.

He finally lets out a small one and nods. Out of the blue, he reaches over and covers your hand with his. Staring intently into your eyes, he says, “I know she makes you do her reports and occupies your time to do her coffee runs as well. You can say no to her. She may be my girlfriend, but you’re technically my intern, and I will stand on your side no matter what.”

“Um, okay. Thanks, Tae,” you say. His sincerity has caught you off guard.

At that moment, the sound of clicking heels pierce its way into your eardrums through the noise of the even busier bar. Taehyung quickly retracts his hand.

Fei arrives, not a hair out of place in her tightly pulled bun. Her lips are painted a striking red against the paleness of her skin, and her manicured nails dig into the forearm of Taehyung when she reaches them. Even though she is wearing an otherwise drab office business suit, the curvature of her body draws quite a few glances from the younger men in the crowd.

“It’s like a zoo here,” she sneers, turning away from a sacrificial lamb who had been bold enough step out of his circle of friends to greet her with a sleezy “hey”.

“Hi, Fei. Busy night?” you greet her first.

She gives you a tight-lipped smile. “Yes. I don’t know why you weren’t there. Isn’t it the intern’s job to complete reports?”

Again, a loosely defined use of “intern” at DailyHive.

You return her smile with a crisp one of your own.

She turns away from you and regards Taehyung, who looks as if he had been the sacrificial lamb instead. “Teddybear, let’s go home. You know this type of place isn’t my vibe. I’m getting a headache already.”

You raise an eyebrow at his pet name.

He turns a little bit pinker, if that is possible under the current alcohol-induced glow of his cheeks, and says, “Um, sure. Y/N, are you going to be okay getting home?”

Waving him off, you show him your phone. “30% left. I’ve got pepper spray in my bag and enough booze in me to not run from a fight. I’ll call an Uber home soon, don’t worry.”

Fei has already begun to fight her way through the squirming, dancing bodies. Taehyung glances quickly at her and turns back to you once last time. “Text me that you’re home safe.”

“Will do, boss,” you smile at him warmly.

He lingers for just a moment more before running after his impatiently waiting girlfriend.

You turn back to the bar and order another beer for yourself. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is perhaps the biggest perk of being single.

...

On the opposite side of town, sinking deeply into a soft lounge chair is Seokjin enjoying a rare evening out with his best friend. He has swapped his usual attire for a more relaxed fit of a white oversized crewneck and techwear bottoms. A heavy, exorbitant fur-lined long leather coat hangs on the coat rack beside the door to their private VVIP room. He swirls his glass of Chateau Lafite before sipping delicately.

Outside, only a handful of patrons sit quietly engrossed in their own conversations. It is a relatively empty night at the high-end lounge. A lady sings sultrily on stage with the smooth background of a saxophone as accompaniment.

Junho has poured himself another glass while he is talking to Seokjin. Seokjin had since slightly tuned out his friend’s rather elongated rendition of another celebrity sighting to occupy his mind with another individual.

“Earth to Jin? When did you get so lightweight since I’ve been gone?” Junho waves a hand in front of Seokjin’s nose.

Seokjin blinks to refocus.

“The mansion I bought last year or the one I bought last month?” he reiterates. Sensing that Seokjin truly had no idea what the topic at hand had been, he tries again.

“Where should I do my birthday party this year, man? I thought the mansion from last year since it’s closer to the city, but I feel like it’s been reused too many times. It’s not completely furnished yet, but the property I got last month is significantly bigger and I can probably host more people.”

“The new place then,” Seokjin answers half-heartedly.

Junho grumbles something intelligible.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing,” Junho sighs, “Tell me what’s new with you. How’s that little project of yours going? I still can’t believe you won’t let me know who you’re planning to take to the Gala.”

Seokjin had refused to release even the slightest detail about you to Junho. Letting him know that Seokjin had agreed to one of his plans would be enough to inflate Junho’s ego for at least a little while.

“It’s been going...”

Junho waits for more of Seokjin’s answer, but his friend’s attention has been turned to a received text.

10:17pm “Safe and sound, Teddy Bear.”

10:17pm “Or should I say Taeddybear? 🥴”

10:18pm “That last beer done me rael godo.”

10:18pm “Real good**”

Seokjin raises a brow at the unknown number. He responds back.

10:18pm “Who is this? I think you’ve got the wrong number.”

Junho crosses his legs and sits back with a sigh. He presses the button to request for an attendant.

10:19pm “You know who… Anyways, I just wanted to say thank you for saying you’ve got my back. It’s definitely appreciated.”

The response doesn’t do much except to further pique Seokjin’s curiosity.

“Sorry,” he says, sliding his phone back into his pocket, “Rogue text I think.”

Junho shrugs. “Is that right? Seems to have caught your attention.” There is now a manner of indifference to his voice.

“It’s going well, by the way – answering your question. I mean, all things considered. It’s not like I have to teach her how not to stuff a cocktail shrimp up your nose.”

His friend snorts. “I’d be concerned and against this person if it’s who you’re planning to bring.”

Seokjin’s phone buzzes again.

10:21pm “Pray for me when I wake up with the worst hangover of my life. I’m going to bed now.”

A moment of silence.

10:21pm “I hope I didn’t piss off Fei tonight for stealing you for the evening.”

10:22pm “Okay I’ll shut up now. Please don’t tell me you’re reading this. You should be getting some 😼💦.”

The emoji makes Seokjin choke, liquid sputtering from his lips.

Junho cusses. He angrily dabs at the speckle of red wine that has landed on his pearly white top.

10:23pm Download attached image. “Just in case, here’s a little something to get the night started 😉”

“What the hell man?” Junho gets up and makes his way to the bathroom. Luckily, the previously called attendant had arrived in time to escort him.

Seokjin barely notices that he is alone in room as he taps the download button. It isn’t until he has returned home and is looking at the picture one last time before bed that he realizes who his mysterious texter is.

The employee nametag clipped to the collar of your workday shirt hanging on the arm of a chair can only be found when zoomed in past your painted toes and naked feet.

...

You cannot hide your nervousness when you arrive at your “lunch meeting” the following Monday morning. All weekend, you had cursed yourself for not better checking who the recipient of your texts were before pressing send. Never had you thought that in your drunken stupor you would mix up “The Devil” in your contact list with “Taehyung Kim.” Curse you and your lack of friends beginning with the letter “T”.

You balk before, a hand poised in perfect position for a knock. Maybe he didn’t download it? And even if he did, it was just a troll feet pic. You had made sure that it was as pg-13 as possible before you had sent it.

“Hi,” you greet sheepishly when he has given you the go to enter.

In a smart plain blue button-up and round frames that are almost certainly for the aesthetics, the CEO of the company and your boss sizes you up and down.

“I know we’ve gotten to know each other better these past few weeks. But you’d think it’s still common courtesy to at least make eye contact,” he says. You look at him wide eyed without a word.

He rolls his eyes but does not gesture to your usual seat. In fact, you don’t spy a take-out container in sight. He instead stands up and picks up his phone, walking to the door. He notices you have yet to move.

“Let’s get moving. You’ve only got a 45 minute lunch.”

You scramble to match his speed and catch Taehyung’s eye as you grab your jacket at your desk. Taehyung’s gaze follows you as you hurry to leave in pursuit of Seokjin’s coattail.

...

The restaurant is a popular vegan establishment with a plethora of greenery crawling up its high ceilings and a window-framed overview of the city’s skyline. Waiters and waitresses who may just as well be walking New York Fashion Week serve you brunch mimosas on a golden plate; they attentively wait to the side in case you ever run out of water.

Common topics are rare between the two of you. Initially, you respectfully kept quiet and only answered questions when asked, but you have never been one for awkward silence. Yes, it’s awkward only if you make it awkward; there is just no denying the hanging suspense that curls your toes each time. Recently, you have started with simple inquiries regarding the company, who they might meet at the Gala and everyday mundane topics.

“You’re probably wondering why we’re out of the office,” Seokjin says. He continues shortly after taking a bite of his meal and ignores the look of your surprise at his initiation of a conversation. “My office has been getting stuffy with the warmer weather so I thought it’d be nice to get some fresh air. How’s the food?”

You nod, making small sounds of contentment as you chew on the Avocado Lime Tartare. Mmm… tart-y.

He takes a deep breath in, stalling the incoming conversation. “It’s my friend’s birthday this next weekend.”

“Oh,” you say, “Happy early birthday to him.”

“He’s my best friend.”

“Well… An extra happy early birthday to him.”

A sigh. “Are you free next weekend?”

Your chewing comes to a halt and you blink once at his question. Next weekend is the weekend before the Silver Gala. It is also the sole weekend before your birthday the following Friday after the Gala. You had hoped to spend it with Taehyung and maybe even Jimin who had promised to be in town on a long overdue vacation despite your chastising to visit your parents first.

He senses your trepidation. Quickly, he explains himself,

“He’s having a birthday party Saturday night. He has a place about an hour north of here. I can have somebody pick you up if that’s more convenient. I don’t have a birthday present for him and thought it’d be nice for you to meet him.”

“You’re giving him me for a present?” you ask, incredulously.

He bites his tongue. He never anticipated how awkward this conversation could go.

“You’re going as my plus one. He really wants to meet you; in fact, he insisted that you be there. He’ll be at the gala too. I have something else planned for his birthday present,” he adds hastily, “Besides, you’re less than qualified as a present.”

Musing silently to yourself, you wonder if in any situation should a human be qualified as a present. Despite that, you hate yourself as you agree on the spot.

The rest of the lunch passes by quickly in dull silence. As Seokjin pays for the meal on the company card (and hands you the receipt for reimbursement), you note that there has been no comment made on any strange photos texted to him over the weekend.

Perhaps being nonchalantly implied as a human birthday gift to a stranger is your karma for sending weird texts to your boss.

Seokjin stays inside the car as he drops you off at the office after lunch, already preparing for his next business meeting. You nod your goodbye and step onto the pavement through the courteously held open door of the limousine.

“Y/N, try a soft pink. Fuchsia is not your colour,” he tells you as the door is closed.

He then leaves you standing in front of the large office doors, staring at your chipped, week-old purple toenails.

...

“I’m not exactly expecting a package in the mail or a dress laid out on the hotel bed – ”

“You guys are staying at a hotel?” Taehyung says over the phone.

You are standing in your bedroom, an hour before when Seokjin is supposed to pick you up as an offering to his best friend. There are two dresses laid out on your Hello Kitty bed covers: a simple black dress you had worn once when you were a little bit more in shape and your prom dress.

“No, I’m at home. But I mean, let me play into this movie metaphor.”

“You suck at metaphors.”

You have your phone propped up on some pillows so that you can see Taehyung as you debate your fashion decision. He is in a relaxed white tee, hair messily framing his face after a shower and a bowl of popcorn in his hands. You watch as a droplet of water runs down his face from his still-wet hair. He nonchalantly licks it off from the side of his mouth.

“As I was saying, it wouldn’t hurt to get me something. He made it seem like it was a big deal. Like doesn’t the male lead usually surprise the female lead with a big bouquet of flowers and this over-the-top expensive dress which she wears and makes the male lead fall head over heels in love with her?”

He chews silently on a kernel then probes, “You want Mr. Kim to fall in love with you?”

“No,” you hastily correct, “It’s a metaphor. I think you’re the one who sucks at metaphors.”

There is a beep on your phone to indicate you have another incoming call.

“Tae, I’m going to have to call you back. My brother’s calling me,” you tell him. The black dress; your old prom dress is way too early 2000s. Black never hurts.

“Okay. Have fun tonight. Pretend that it’s your birthday party. And then I’ll meet you for brunch tomorrow, my treat? You can tell me all about it,” he says. “Also the black. You look cute in that one.”

“My party if I was 30, rich and successful. Oh wait, I’ll have one thing in common soon; that’s a start. Thanks though. I’ll call you tomorrow morning once I get up,” you say, then switch the call over to your brother. You had missed the flush of his cheeks as you busily swipe your phone.

Sticking the prom dress back into your closet, you rummage around the meager display of shoeboxes for a pair of high heels.

“Hey, Jimin,” you greet over the phone.

“Jesus, I do not need to be accosted by my half-naked sister,” he yells over the phone.

You turn rapidly, seeing that you had accidentally continued a video call from when you had hung up on Taehyung. You throw a pillow over the camera in your haste to cover yourself up.

“I was going to ask why you’re dressed like that but on second thought, I think I’ll leave your sexual exploits as your own secret.”

Despite how disturbed you feel about this comment, his cheerful voice makes you smile.

“So little sis, the weekend before the big three-oh!”

“Please stop reminding me.”

“Where do you want to meet tonight? I just got off the plane, but I can be ready to meet in about an hour. I booked a hotel close to the airport.”

Shit. You forgot to tell Jimin. These heels will have to do.

“Um… I, uh…”

“What?”

You clear your throat and begin to undress in front of the mirror. You have a sudden conscious thought that the dusty treadmill in your living room seems to be staring daggers at your back.

“I’ve got plans tonight.”

“Plans? I wasn’t even aware you had friends here.”

“Ouch, Jimin. But yes, I have friends. In fact, I am meeting a friend for brunch tomorrow if you want to join. I’m sure he’ll be okay with it.”

“He?” Jimin repeats, “Should I put on my big brother boxing gloves? Give him a good talking to in case he’s interested in my baby sister?” Pause. “Was that who you were calling before?”

You bite your answer back, not feeling the need to go down that rabbit hole.

“He’s just a friend; A co-worker really,” you say, “He’s also unavailable. And before you suggest anything, his goalkeeper is technically one of my bosses so I do not want to try and shoot past her thank you very much.”

Jimin laughs. “I wasn’t going to suggest anything. Well if you’re busy tonight, tomorrow morning works for me. Give me a call. I’ll spend the night in watching some good ol’ Netflix and enjoy this vacation time.”

“Sorry again,” you apologize.

“Go out and have fun,” he says, “You deserve it.”

The two of you finish off the call with the usual goodbyes. You have forty-five minutes to dress the part of a sparkly birthday surprise for the co-founder of the company you work for. Throwing on your favourite throwback music, you get to work.

Once satisfied, you snap a picture and sending it to Taehyung making special care that you have picked the right individual this time.

...

The mansion is bigger than you could have ever imagined, and the amount of people present are…

“You’re telling me I can do whatever I want tonight,” you ask Seokjin in the car.

There is no denying that Seokjin knows how to dress for an event. In a velvety black and white suit, contrasted by his blonde hair which he has elected to temporarily dye for the evening, he looks very much the posh CEO magazines brand him out to be. You are glad you elected for the simple black dress as standing beside this Renaissance statue in a floral pastel yellow dress would be like planting dandelions in Kanye’s sculpture garden (if he ever wanted one).

“The majority of people won’t recognize you after tonight. They’ll also be too drunk to even register anything you tell them,” Seokjin says.

He cannot believe that you chose a simple black dress. Did you really not own anything remotely feminine besides the most generic clubbing outfit? Even if you had wanted to make an appearance as a hooker, at least make it an expensive-looking one. Maybe he should have bought you that Versace dress he spotted in the window the other day. Instead…

“Take this. Your earrings are too gaudy for this event.”

You touch the sparkly black cats you have put into your ears. Their eyes are made of crystal, and you thought it looked quite fetching in the light. Opening up the box, you see a dainty elegant pair of teardrop earrings that may or may not be of real diamonds.

“Only Junho will know who you really are and then you can enjoy the rest of your night. I don’t want you to feel like you’re being held here against your will.”

Putting them on, you note that even this simple change in attire has elevated the entirety of your presence. You felt as luxurious as this gift.

“Thanks, Seokjin,” you try the first name basis he had insisted upon for this evening, “Not going to lie, I had imagined that maybe you’d send me a dress in the mail or something, but this is still very nice.”

He snorts and rolls his eyes. “Like in the movies? Please, I run a start-up company. I’m not a millionaire and I don’t think you would appreciate my handouts.”

You don’t respond, making your second note of the night on the Prada label on the cuff of his suit. “To clarify, I don’t introduce myself as your plus-one tonight.”

“No. I don’t want you associated with me,” he curtly states. He watches as your smirk twitches and he hits himself mentally in the head again. “It’s to protect you. There are bound to be tons of paparazzi tonight at a party as big as this. I don’t want you to find yourself in the tabloids tomorrow morning. Just be smart.”

The car pulls to a stop after inching its way up to the front door. People mill about outside in extravagant brands, holding glasses of champagne. The man of the hour is somewhere inside the building, charming his way into new business deals as well as making new friends.

“Stay close to me. You can leave after we meet Junho. It is his birthday after all,” Seokjin offers a hand as you step out of the car.

You take it, looping yourself into him so that your hand rests on his forearm. You are only 13 days younger than Junho, and yet this striking contrast in lifestyle hits you like a landslide while the two of you walk up the stairs and into the mansion.

Inside, it is dim with disco lights flashing to the beat of amped party music. Upon entrance, the two of you are offered glasses of liquor (you take a swirling iridescent drink) to which you are then ushered to where the birthday boy lounges.

Junho has an even more youthful face than Seokjin does. Where Seokjin’s features exude class and charm, Junho appears mischievous and looks to have stepped out of every girl’s bad boy dream.

You stop Seokjin with a tug and make him look at you. “Tell me: do I look like a passable birthday offering?”

Seokjin rolls his eyes and pulls you along with him.

“Jin!” Junho hollers loudly across the room when spotting his oldest friend. There is a doll-like female magnetized to his side. “This is Clara, my date for the evening.”

Seokjin shakes her hand and greets them. The female cannot seem to pry her eyes away from this handsome new stranger. He introduces himself chivalrously to her as Junho sides up to you and grips your hands in his. His breath smells strongly of mixed drinks, and you know that in about fifteen minutes the entire night will be a blur for him.

“You must be Y/N!” he says excitedly, “Jin didn’t tell me that you were coming! What a surprise!”

“I am,” you greet back with a large smile. “Although I’m also surprised. Seokjin told me that you had insisted I came.”

Seokjin grits his teeth, annoyed at Junho. Would he ever learn when to keep his big mouth closed?

Laughing loudly, Junho grabs two drinks just as a waiter passes by and hands them to you. “Insist might be a strong word,” he says, drilling another hole unknowingly, “I honestly thought I’d have to play part-time wingman tonight. But I’m glad he’s got someone by his side.” He jabs you a little too hard in the ribs. “Next week’s gala is going to be fun! Okay, now there’s only one rule tonight: there are no rules!”

The four of you clink your glasses together, while you do your best to hide an embarrassed smile on behalf of the birthday boy.

“You bet I’m going around as your trophy wife tonight,” you whisper in Seokjin’s ear when Junho looks away.

He whirls around to look at you, the tip of both your noses impossibly close together. He can taste the acidity of the wine when you breath out with a wicked smile. He barely has time to stop you as you peel yourself away to mingle with the crowds.

Seokjin is about to follow you but Junho pulls him away, flamboyantly introducing his handsome best friend to a group of international models. He turns on his brightest smile, but his heart thunders in his chest at you calling yourself his wife.

...

You twirl around in your dress, nobody noticing the small splash of champagne on the front of it in the quickly changing lights.

“He bought this for me last week. Says it reminds him of the first night we met. Our eyes met across the waters in Tuscany where he was on a business trip. I’ll let you on a little secret, but I was his mistress for a little while.”

Seokjin cannot make out the words you are saying to a small but growing group of people around you. He stands across from Junho, but looks over the latter’s shoulders to watch as you do another spin.

“A little while, Charlotte? Are you still his mistress?” an older lady with an exuberant amount of jewels hanging off her body whispers with a keen interest in your expertly spun story.

Charlotte Dior Laurent, an identity you are pretty sure is an amalgamation of French brands from the top of your mind. You continue to personify this character however.

“Don’t worry. He’s left her since. I know I know, my friends all say the same. ‘He’s already been divorced three times. How can you be sure he won’t leave you?’”

At this point, you are in way over your head at having told this story to at least two other groups and a multitude of other renditions to whomever you have met tonight. But there is something powerful about liquid courage as it courses through your body.

The lady lays a hand on your arm. “I don’t want your heart to break. You are still young.”

Looking up between the heads of your audience, you catch Seokjin’s eyes. They are fiery and it sends a strange sensation up your toes to your abdomen. You give a titillating wave at him in which he does not return.

“He says I’m special and different. How can you say no to that?” you exclaim with exasperation, fully committing to the poor damsel just oh-so in love.

There is a look of genuine concern on the lady’s face at your statement.

Before you can dig yourself a deeper hole, you place your empty glass on the table and excuse yourself. You do not know if it’s the drinking on a relatively empty stomach or if the room is really much warmer due to the multitude of bodies, but you head out to the balcony.

On your way out, you notice that the clock reads twenty minutes past midnight. This gives you a shock at how fast time has passed. Perhaps you should go find Seokjin if you are to get a decent amount of sleep before meeting with Taehyung and Jimin tomorrow. Speaking of Taehyung…

You pull out your phone and see that there are two unread messages. The first is from Jimin, confirming that he is indeed invited to brunch tomorrow morning. The second is a response from Taehyung.

11:09pm “Wow. You have me a little lost for words. I had imagined you’d look nice in the dress but… You really are beautiful.”

Smiling, you type in your response.

12:21am “Thanks, Tae. You’re up late.” You take a picture of the earrings Seokjin had gifted you and attach it to the message. “What do you think of these?”

Barely have you returned your phone into your bag when it buzzes again. This time you receive an attached image. Taehyung seems to be sitting in front of a monitor, as his face glows with a blue light and contorted into a pensive furrow of his brows.

12:21am “A little different from your usual style. Are they new? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear those.”

12:21am “Fei’s out with some friends tonight. She likes when I wait for her to come back before I sleep. To make sure she’s safe, I guess.”

12:22am “Pooey. I should’ve brought you as my plus-one 😩. Also, Seokjin bought them for me for tonight. He says my other earrings are too gaudy.”

12:24am “First name basis 🙃”

12:25am “How is your night going? Having fun?”

You are about give Taehyung a call for a detailed recounting of tonight’s escapades when someone speaks out from within the shadows.

“A penny for your thoughts?” He walks into the moonlight. You flush, meeting the eyes of this particularly dashing gentleman, the phonecall immediately forgotten.

Oh, Alcohol, you make even the smartest of people do dumb shit. And right now, your effects are even worse on this idiot.

Your mouth hangs slightly open as you watch him puff out smoke from his cigar and offer it to you. He brushes up beside you, his fingers trailing up your hand which grips the balcony. You cannot seem to break away from his gaze.

“Lung cancer has an increasing incidence rate particularly for females due to smoking. Are you sure you want to be condoning this type of behaviour?” Seokjin interjects himself between you and your Tuxedo Mask, pushing the outstretched cigar back towards its owner.

There is a small stare down amongst the two men before the latter quietly exits the stage. Your eyes continue to linger on him even as he walks towards another female alone in the night enjoying the outdoor breeze.

“You’ve just ruined by chance. I could have seduced then blackmailed him with the story of his illegitimate child to play Black Widow,” you whine.

Seokjin takes the glass that had somehow magically appeared in your hand during the short walk from inside to outside on the balcony.

“How many have you had since we came?” he asks.

You sigh wistfully, still in your dangerous daydream. “I don’t know. I’ve lost count.” You turn your attention back to him eventually. “What are you doing here? Did you see me with him and get all jealous, hubby?” you tease.

He scoffs, drinking from your glass and pulling a face. Once again, there is that twist and jump within his chest, but he attributes it to whatever nasty concoction he had just ingested. He pours its contents over the railing and into whatever shrubbery lies below. “You seriously went with being my trophy wife?”

You shrug. “Of sorts. You’d better be right about people being too drunk slash not caring about me enough after tonight to remember the things I’ve said. ‘Cuz you’ve been divorced three times, had me along with another as your mistress, I think you’ve sired a few illegitimate children and all in all, a Games of Throne life. Damn, maybe I made you a little too badass.”

“You’re having water for the rest of the night,” he says.

You glare at him, contemplating on making a remark about his equally flushed face but decide against it. Instead, you lean onto the balcony and give a cat stretch. A large sigh escapes from you.

Wordlessly, he shakes off his jacket and places it around your shoulder all the while averting his gaze on the unblemished skin of your upper thighs that had been exposed from your previous movement.

Your blood feels like liquid fire coursing through your veins. Feeling overheated even in the evening breeze, you give him back his jacket. You note his reluctance to meet you even as you throw what could be a thousand dollar jacket in the air to him. “So what’s it like to live like this every day?” you say in wonder. You feel said breeze return and lean over the balcony to catch its chill.

“Like what?” he asks. The warm summer night’s breeze blows through, settling his hair in a childish tousle.

“Like rich,” you say. You sigh again. “Believe it or not, I’m the same age as your birthday boy best friend.

And everything feels absolutely unreal right now. If I hadn’t agreed to come here tonight with you, I’d probably be at another dingy bar knocking back shots with my brother and friend.”

“Are you a secret alcoholic?”

You glare at him. “No,” you state matter-of-factly. “As I was trying to share, this type of lifestyle is something I could ever only imagine. I’m not ungrateful about spending time with them, but at the end of the night I’d go home, sweaty, drunk and gross, and then simply pass out. My bank account might be a couple hundred bucks lighter. Come Monday I’ll be working my ass off just to earn back what I had spent. Then cue the repeating cycle.”

Resting your chin on your palm, your other hand sweeps your hair back behind your ear.

“It’s amazing the difference a few life choices can have.”

Seokjin remains silent beside you. Truthfully, he is at a loss of words. The moonlight plays across your face and caresses your nose down to your lips. You are arching your back once again to pull away the soreness that comes with wearing high heel the entire night. It is just a simple black dress but on you it made you look –

“Well, you’re Mrs. Kim tonight,” he starts.

“Charlotte Dior Laurent,” you correct him.

He raises an eyebrow. “Okay… Ms. Charlotte Dior Laurent. Tonight you get to live like the rich, as you’ve put it. As a rich person, what would you like to do?”

You ponder his question a few moments for the answer. “Hmm…I think I’d like to play golf. It’s a rich person’s sport. I want to play it on a private golf course, wearing cute golfing outfits and talk about million-dollar deals with a client without a care in the world. I want to order sangria by the gallon.”

He laughs out loud. It takes a while for him to be able to speak again, but when he does you feel as if the night has been illuminated a few degrees brighter. “I personally don’t have a private golf course, but Junho does here in his backyard if you’re up for it. I can’t promise cute golfing outfits so you’ll have to do with your wine stained dress. And if you’re really up for it I can pretend to make business deals with you, that’s my job anyways.”

You grin, taking the hand he has offered you. “Call.” The two of you shake upon his suggestion.

As he is leads you by the hand towards the dim gates of said golf course, you tug at him gently. “There’s something missing…” you say.

He shakes his head and pulls you back in towards the party room.

“I’ll see what they have at the bar.”

...

As the hands of the clock continue to spin past another hour, the summer night takes a chilly turn. Seokjin has lent you his jacket but even that cannot stop your fingers from becoming numb. Your hands shake even as they tightly hold the golf club. Seokjin watches you in silence as you prepare to hit the golf ball, a beer in one hand and a few opened bottles littered on the grass beside him. The club hits the ball with a resounding “cling” but does little in propelling it a few centimeters.

“This one doesn’t count,” you announce, “It’s too dark to see anything here.”

Seokjin takes a swig as you readjust your position. You sway in the wind and the last tendrils of your hair come undone in its half up half down hairdo. Your hair now whips wildly around your face when another gust blows through.

“Shit!” you exclaim, missing the ball again. “Why is golfing so hard?!”

You throw your club down and trudge to Seokjin. The six pack the two of you had been sharing has officially been depleted. Seokjin offers you his half empty bottle. This time, you are the one watching as he goes to your spot and effortlessly swings his target into the darkness.

He smirks from the spot.

You grumble. “You’ve had years of practice. Not fair.”

“You’ve got to do better than that, Mrs. Johnson,” he says, teasing you.

Your grumble becomes more audible. You place the now empty bottle on the ground and cross your arms against your chest. Since telling him of your other American alias from tonight, he has not ceased to remind you of your strange choice of name.

“Just so you know, Mrs. Johnson can afford both an affair and the consequential prenup,” you huff.

“It’s still a stupid last name.”

“It’s an American multinational corporation with an income in the billions, okay?”

“Keep telling yourself that if it makes you sleep better at night. Now come on, I’ve got one last ball. Take a swing.”

Groaning, you shuffle over. You wish you had not suggested golf. You had never been good at sports anyways – bad hand-eye coordination.

He stands beside you this time, scrutinizing your every movement with hawk-like eyes. “No, not like that,” he says, “Have a wider stance and bend your knees. Better centre of gravity gives you a better swing. Also hold it with a neutral grip.”

You readjust your positioning following his instructions.

“Index finger down the center. Good. And three knuckles on each hand. No, that’s two. Okay your hands are just weird now. Three. I said three.”

“Stop standing there and show me then, Mr. Know-It-All,” you say, your patience in this makeshift lesson also coming to an end.

He walks closer to you, reaching out for the golf club. He retracts his hands in seeing that you have yet to let go. “You got to – ”

“You can touch me. I did tell you that Mrs. Johnson can afford an affair and prenup. Besides, I’m not going to be able to learn anything if I can’t even see you in this dark.”

He comes behind you and puts a foot between yours to guide your stance. Wrapping his arms around you, he fixes the placement of your hands to grip the shaft of the club in the way he had previously instructed.

Perhaps it is the mixture of wine, champagne and beer offered tonight, but being enveloped in the warmth of this embrace intoxicates you. The tingles that are sent down from his soft breathing on the base of your neck, make you shake like a leaf in the wind.

He inhales the sweet undertones of your perfume. The tendrils of your hair brush against his collarbone, sending a sensual kiss onto his skin. Unconsciously, he draws you closer to him, shielding you from another gust.

“Now you just want to swing,” he says, the words a mixture of a whisper and guttural grunt. His chest rumbles with it, passing the vibration through to your back.

You remain as still as a statue and lean ever so slightly back into him until your entire backside is pressed upon him.

You can’t stop yourself as you ask him, “Do you want to have sex with me?”

...

157 notes · View notes

pascalpanic · 3 years

Note

hi i love ur writing so much!! can i request something with mutual pining, denial of feelings, idiots-to-lovers, hurt/comfort/angst , maybe some jealousy and fluff and smut if you want i just need something really angsty with javier peña, frankie m or din djarin?? tysmm!!!!!

The Bantha (Din Djarin x f!Reader)

Summary: Being an animal lover does not work well with the plans the Tuskens and Mos Pelgo citizens have to kill the krayt dragon. A retelling of S2E1 of the Mandalorian: The Marshal.

W/C: 4.4K

Warnings: talk of animals being harmed/dying, lots of arguing and angst, Vanth kind of is gross bc I hate his character aha, we respect the Tuskens in this house and use proper terminology for them, language, tiniest mentions of alcohol

A/N: Not gonna lie, the idea for this fic came to me pretty quickly but it took me a long time to properly figure it out. Lots of drafting and editing so THANK YOU to my beta readers, you’re all the best ever!! Anon, I’m so sorry this took so long but I hope it’s worth it!

Of all the dilemmas you’d expected to face as you traveled the galaxy with a tiny, Force-sensitive, 50-year-old toddler and a Mandalorian with the emotional capacity of the earlier-mentioned child, the last one you’d ever predicted you’d face had to be the challenge of ridding a tiny desert town of a giant sand beast that eats their banthas.

“You are so fucking dense,” you groan as you and Din settle on a speeder bike, the little green child tucked in a wrap on your chest. “You’re a Mandalorian, a battle-worn bounty hunter with a kill streak probably in the thousands, and some random man asks for your help and not only do you fucking freely give it, you decide to help them kill the sand dragon terrorizing their town.” You groan to him, rubbing your temples.

Din nods and starts up the speeder bike. “You don’t need to summarize what we just lived through,” he grunts and you wrap an arm around him.

“I do, because I need to clarify that your dumb ass would do that. Sometimes I really do think you don’t have a brain under that beskar bucket,” you shake your head, trying to keep the anger that you’re feeling. If you’re not careful, it’ll turn to adoration and love.

You’ve been battling your feelings for Din for a while now, trying to force the giddiness bubbling in your chest deep down inside. The man is everything you look for in a partner: strong, committed, tall, protective. He’s good with the child, adorably cuddly and loving. He’s even funny sometimes, making dry-humored remarks around the ship.

“Excuse me for caring,” the man grumbles through the modulator. He’s strong and warm beneath your arms, the Tatooine heat making the beskar warm like your bunk in the morning when you don’t want to get up. Stop it, stop it you remind yourself. This is not the time to be enraptured by the Mandalorian man’s body.

That’s yet another trait you love about him- how caring he is. He’s a bounty hunter, a warrior by oath who never shows his face and probably knows millions of ways to kill someone with his bare hands. Yet he cares. He raises the child well; he even raised him alone before you came into the picture. He puts himself in harm’s way for innocent people on the daily, all because he simply thinks it’s right.

You take a sip from your water canteen and hand it to the baby on your chest so he can drink too. “No, I will not excuse you for caring when you’re doing stupid shit, Din,” you scowl and cap the canteen as two three-fingered green hands give it back to you. “You came here- we came here, our family did, to find Mandalorians. There are none.”

“This man will give me his beskar if we help,” Din hisses, revving the engine of the speeder, non-verbally telling Vanth to get moving. The man is dawdling along, a few meters away, as he packs his bike up.

“What do you need it for, huh?” You ask him, throwing your arms up in exasperation. “I’m not a Mandalorian. This little shit doesn’t need beskar. You have a full set of armor already.”

“Beskar belongs to me, to my people, by my Creed,” he says, articulating himself with his hands too. It’s a habit he’s picked up from you. “You wouldn’t ask a Tatooinian to deprive themselves of the moisture they farm.”

You put your face in your hands and groan. “No, you’re right, because they fucking need water to live. You do not need beskar to survive, Din!” You shout, getting off the speeder bike. “And please, forget I called us a family. We’re clearly just a bounty hunter and his… assistant, whatever the fuck I am, and some little kid we picked up for the ride.” You stalk off towards the building.

“Where are you going?” He asks as you turn.

Cobb is standing to the side somewhere, and you approach him. “You got another speeder? I don’t want to put up with him for the ride.”

The man chuckles and claps your shoulder. “Sure thing, pretty thing.” He wanders off and returns about a minute later with another speeder. Din watches the two of you in annoyance, visible from his rigid body language. “Hop on. You know how to drive?” You nod once and he heads to his own speeder. “I’ll lead. You two follow.”

The ride is uneventful at first. Cobb Vanth tells the two of you the story of how he came to be the town marshal, and Din nods his silent comprehension when the man in beskar looks over at him. Most of the stories are aimed at you, desperate to crack your stony anger. It doesn’t work. You stare straight ahead, daring to break your frown into a neutral expression when the little green baby coos excitedly at the wind in his ears.

There are valleys and caverns to navigate through, nimbly ducking and weaving on your speeder bike. The kid loves it, squealing happily when you fly over a bump or turn a sharp corner. It’s a joyride to him.

When Din and Vanth suddenly stop your ride, you panic, holding the child close against your chest. From your holster, you grab your weapon and stand next to the two men. The growling noises are revealed to be massiffs, huge dog-like lizards. You squeal in delight, immediately dropping to your knees and summoning the beast in Tusken.

“What in the hell is she doin’?” Vanth mutters to Din as the big animal comes bounding toward you.

“She’s always like this with animals. Thinks they’re all big puppies,” Din rolls his eyes but can’t help himself: he smiles beneath his helmet as the beast licks your face and you scratch its sides.

You’re such a wonderful person, Din sighs, even though he’s mad at you. You’ve always been amazing with other species, like massiffs and the little green child strapped to your chest. You’re so intelligent too: speaking seemingly endless languages.

“They are big puppies!” You coo and press a kiss to the forehead of one massiff. Another finds Din, who also bends down to give it scratches and attention. “Green bean, look!” You tell the child and put out his hand for the massiff to lick. “See? They’re our friends,” you tell him, admiring the way the little green child giggles at the scaly skin.

From around a corner, a Tusken appears, then several. You stand and lower your weapon, speaking to them first in their native language. “We mean no harm. You have beautiful massiffs,” you tell them then turn to Din and Vanth. “Drop the weapons.”

“Are you crazy?” Vanth shouts.

“We are here to put an end to the krayt dragon,” you explain to them in their language. “Your assistance and knowledge would certainly help us. You want it gone too, yes?”

They affirm you that it’s a yes, and you nod back at the men. You know Din understands. “They’re willing to help if you’ll stop being a douchebag.” Vanth starts to talk but you hold up a hand and cut him off. “I know, I know. We can strike a deal. Are you willing?”

Din’s heart is nearly exploding. In any other timeline, he’d be the one conducting negotiations, using his threat as a Mandalorian to run the show. But here you are, with your gentle nature, making deals and completing them through cooperation and kindness. It’s hard to speak in a soft tone when speaking Tusken, yet you can do it. All with a baby strapped to your chest. Maker, Din thinks, he might be in love with you.

Vanth sighs a few moments later. “Why the hell not?”

Din talks with the Tuskens for a while at the camp, planning and negotiating as night falls and the air starts to get cold. To entertain the child, you spend time with the banthas, brushing their fur and letting the baby get exposed to the animals.

The kid loves them. He coos happily as he strokes their thick fur, giggling as one of them gives him a kiss and covers him in slime. You wash him off and return, quietly talking with the Tuskens caring for the creatures.

You’ve taken a liking to them. They’re gentle and soft, like big lumbering puppies, really. They moo when you brush their fur just right, let their eyes slip shut when you scratch them between the eyes. You’ve always had a soft spot for animals, like Din said earlier.

Cobb likes you. That much is clear from the way he finds you when he’s not working with Din and the Tuskens, bringing you food and water as you and the child mind your business. He’s overly flirtatious, to the point of annoyance. He’s rude and crude about the Tuskens, calling them words you’d never use to describe a human.

Politely excusing yourself, you allow the child to run with some of the other Tuskens’ children and spot a silver-plated man sitting by the fire.

“Vanth is such a goddamn xenophobe,” you grumble as you sit down next to the fire with Din, the child off playing with some Tusken children. He’d ranted about the Tuskens as you rode with them, luckily in Basic so that the people couldn’t understand him.

“Thought you liked him,” Din says and cocks his head. “He certainly likes you.”

You roll your eyes and sip the canteen of water, looking at the crackling fire. “Those things are not mutually exclusive,” you chuckle, looking over at him. “What, are you jealous, tin can?” You tease and knock on his beskar pauldron.

“In your dreams, cyar’ika,” he teases. It’s clear to him that whatever tension had been between the two of you earlier has dissipated, enough for him to steal the water flask from your hand and pass it to the child as he toddles past.

“I was drinking that, you fucking bantha,” you laugh and smack him on an unarmored part of his arm. The Tatooinian desert gets cold at night, you find, and you pull into yourself a little more from the cold.

Din unclips his cape and drapes it over your shoulders, tucking it in beneath where your arms press against your ribs so that it wraps tight to your body. “Hm. You do have a heart under there,” you tease and sigh, naturally leaning against Din and resting your head on his shoulder pauldron.

“So it’s been said,” he nods and even dares to rest his head on top of yours. Through the bare spots in his beskar, he can feel the way your body radiates warmth into the chilly night. You spot a little green head toddling past again, much slower than the other children thanks to his tiny legs, and Din scoops him up.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur quietly, the roar of the Tuskens’ conversations creating a soft hum around you. “For what I said, when I yelled at you. You’re right. You really are just caring for them.”

He nods. “You don’t have to apologize.”

“I’m more sorry for saying we aren’t a family. I mean, we are, right? Not that we’re like, a couple or anything,” you say hurriedly, your voice low as you stumble over your words. “But you and this little womp rat…” you muse as you scratch the baby’s little green head. “You are my family. That much is clear to me.”

Din nods once more. “I agree.”

You smile up at him. “What’s going on under that bucket, huh?”

He turns, looking off. “Just going over the plans for how we’re going to get that krayt dragon.”

“Ooh, share,” you ask, taking one of his hands and lacing through his glove-covered fingers. “I didn’t mean it when we said all of this for some banthas, you know. I’ve really fallen in love with them lately.”

Din is quiet for a moment. He doesn’t answer. “Din?”

He knows you’re going to hate him for this. Your big heart, your animal-loving, sweet talking kindness is not going be okay with this, but he has to tell you the truth. “We’re going to have to sacrifice some of the banthas for this mission to work.”

“What?” You exclaim, dropping his hand. “You can’t possibly do that.”

“We have to. We need to lure the dragon.”

“Do it some other way!” You frown, looking over at the big soft desert cows. “Seriously, please, Din.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he shakes his head. “They’re not sentient.”

“But they can feel!” You exclaim again, standing. “Fuck this. Why don’t you sacrifice yourself to the krayt dragon and see how that feels?” You shout, storming off. You’re aware it’s childish, but you stomp to your tent and lie down. You close your eyes and hope Din doesn’t come to find you.

Of course you didn’t mean it. Of course you didn’t want Din to sacrifice himself to the krayt dragon. So why is he doing it? Why are you on your knees, screaming to the sky that he did exactly what you said?

You’d been avoiding him since that night, since you showed vulnerability and subsequently returned to anger towards the man. You’d wanted to apologize, but you couldn’t get over the sacrificing of the animals for the cause. You just couldn’t.

Din had flown straight into the sand dragon’s mouth, just seconds ago, and is now deep inside its bowels, you’re sure. You clutch the baby to your chest and wail, agonized and terrified. Vanth stands at your side, a hand resting on your shoulder as you wheeze and sob.

But this is Din. He must have a plan. He has to have a plan; he’s a battle-worn warrior and you’ve never seen him lose a fight. You’d stormed off before you could hear the rest of his plans the other night- maybe this was part of it. But the way Vanth stares at the dragon in terror makes you think that maybe it isn’t. Maybe Din just really fucked it up. You set the little green kid in his cradle and stand, sniffling and clinging to the metal sphere as if it’s your last lifeline to Din.

Suddenly, there’s a burst of green goo and out flies a shining silver rocket: it’s Din. “Oh thank the fucking Maker,” you shout as he lands not far from your small group, the wailing and dying sand beast behind him.

He’s covered in slime, but you’ve never been so happy to see the man. You rush to him and throw your arms around him, not giving a single fuck as you jump on him. “Please, never fucking do that again,” you wheeze into his cape, getting yourself covered in slime.

The hug is not comfortable. Din is all beskar where you want to feel his strong body, but it’s all worth it when he wraps his arms around you too. You’re crying, he knows it, and he knows just why. “I didn’t do it because you said it. You know that, right?”

You let go of him, sniffling and wiping your eyes. “Yeah. I was just so scared- oh Maker, Din, I can’t fucking lose you,” you admit, freely crying now. “I love you, I really do, and I can’t-“

“How?”

You look at him in confusion.

“How do you love me?”

This damn man. He’s full of surprises, just getting literally eaten alive by a krayt dragon, and now he’s asking you for a full emotional confession. You’re still reeling from the shock, but the fact that he’s there is enough. You don’t care that Cobb is definitely listening over your shoulder. “Every way. All of them. Romantic, friendship, family. You feel like my home and I want to be with you.” No better time than now, you suppose, to admit this all.

Din walks a step closer. “Romantic. Huh.”

“I hate that fucking helmet,” you admit, trying to deflect the emotion between the two of you. “I can never see your face. Can’t know what you’re thinking, your tone, your-“

Din cuts you off. “We ride back to the village and clean up. Meet me in the home as the suns set.”

What that means, you have no clue, but you nod. “I’m so glad you’re safe,” you murmur, putting a hand on the cut-out cheek of his helmet.

The town rejoices when you come back, shouting and celebrating over the dragon’s death and the plentiful meat that came with the creature. You’d joined in the reverie, taking a shot of spotchka and chanting along to a Tatooinian call-and-response they’d started. It was wonderful, really, and you and the little green thing were the stars. They admired the little green thing, cooing over him. You were proud to stand there as his mother.

The party died as the suns set. Din was notably absent from the hubbub, preferring to be alone as usual. You and the kid talked with the villagers, but as the suns started to sink, you excused yourself and found your way to the spare home you and Din each had rooms in.

Vanth and the women had taken the baby when you told them you were going to talk with Din. Not that it was hard: they all loved the little beast, showered him with affection. It was practically a competition over who got to play with him most.

The building has a warm glow as you wander over to it, wrapping your arms around yourself. The night has become cold now that the two harsh suns have sunk below the horizon, and it’s a relief to open the door to the home and feel the warmth radiating from a fireplace inside.

You find Din staring out of a window on the back, watching the endless wind sweep across the sand dunes, a dark sky contrasting the golden ground. Just his silhouette is visible, black against the deep blue. “Hi,” you say quietly as you walk in, the worn floorboards creaking beneath your feet no matter how deliberately you step. “Glad to see you got cleaned up.”

The man tilts his head in an obvious eye roll, even through the helmet. The slime was disgusting, although Din’s adoptive son had seemed to enjoy the gooey texture, as little ones are prone to. “I almost died and you’re already back to the sarcasm.”

“It’s called a coping mechanism,” you laugh gently and place a hand on his shoulder. There’s no beskar there, just soft fabric warmed by his body. It makes you shiver; even in the safety of the Crest, Din never takes off the armor. You wonder why it’s gone. Maybe to clean it?

Din’s quiet for a moment, enjoying the feeling of your fingers splayed over his shoulder in such an affectionate gesture. “You know how much I trust you, don’t you?” He asks and the black visor turns toward you, admiring what’s visible of your face in the moonlight. Your eyes glimmer and he admires them, the color he’s always loved.

You nod and smile just a little, cheeks growing rounder with the movement. “Of course.” He’s trusted you with his son, the most important thing to him in the galaxy. There’s one clear gesture even now: the absence of the beskar from his form. Maker, he’s broad, shoulders just as wide as with the metal.

He nods and shuts the window’s shutters, allowing even less light in before turning to you. There’s just a soft glow in the room, outlining the shape of the helmet and his shoulders. You can’t see any detail, just the shape. He walks over towards the long comfortable seating in the middle of the room and you instinctively follow, standing in front of it and stopping when he stops, facing him. His hands find your shoulders and his fingertips brush down your arms until they find yours. “Take off my helmet.”

“What? No,” you exclaim, frowning even though he can’t see it.

“Can you see anything?” He asks, a hand gesturing, an even darker shadow through the already murky visibility.

“No.”

“My Creed says you cannot see my face. Not that I can’t remove the helmet.”

You gulp hard, your fingers lacing through his. They’re bare. You’ve never felt them before. Often you’ve wondered if they’re calloused and tough from his work, soft from being hidden beneath the soft leather for all those years, or somewhere in between. They do fall into that in between, but they’re warm and strong and large, even without the leather casing them.

“I can’t do that to you,” you shudder, squeezing his fingers. “It’s the very thing about you, that you can’t take it off,” you start to ramble. You want to, desperately, but there’s no turning back now. If you feel his face, if you’re even so lucky as to kiss him, you’ll never be able to get enough of it. You’ll be subjected to an eternity of longing, even more than you’re yearning now.

“I want you to,” he breathes, his beskar-covered forehead falling against yours. “Please, cyare.”

“Why don’t you hate me?” You ask, your voice straining. You need to keep stalling, need to keep pushing it off or you’re actually going to do it. “I’m so mean to you. All the time,” you point out to him. You do it to keep him away, but he’s persistent. He never seems to care. “All we do is argue.”

“I may not be able to use the Force like the kid,” he mumbles, bringing one hand up to cup your face. “But I can sense your feelings. You don’t hide them well.”

“Din,” you plead, biting your lip and closing your eyes to prevent the tears that are threatening to well in them. “You can’t do this.”

“I can, and I want to.”

“Why are you so fucking patient with me when I’m only ever a bitch to you?” You practically wail, half annoyed and half honored. “You’re such a good man, Din. You don’t deserve someone shitty like me. I’ve got no hunting skills, I’m too stubborn, I’m mean and-”

He stops you by lifting your hands, setting them on either side of his helmet. “You can’t see me, so it doesn’t break the Creed. I want you to do this, because I want you.” He’s eternally blunt, but in this moment you can’t tell if it’s breaking your heart or warming it. “I love you too. Please. Take it off.”

“This is your last fucking chance, Djarin,” you tell him with a wavering voice.

“Cyare.”

“Okay,” you nod and take a deep breath. Din unlatches the little bit at the bottom that keeps it sealed against his head, and there’s a soft rush of air. Your hands grip either side and you slowly lift it off. Din takes it once it’s gone and rests it on the plush seat.

Your hands are drawn to his face like you’re being pulled on a string, your skin prickling as you feel the stubble along his chin and jaw. Your fingers trace his face for a few moments, exploring the new terrain. His cheeks feel hot, and his lips make you shiver again with how soft they are. Swallowing hard, you dare to look at his silhouette, noticing his hair is mostly matted down from the helmet. “What color are your eyes, Din?”

“Brown.”

You smile at that, and you rest your head against his shoulder, your hands dropping to your sides. His arms encircle you and it feels perfect, like you were meant to be like this for all of eternity and it took you long enough. “Of course they are.”

He chuckles at that and presses a kiss into your head, his hands finding your waist. “I did take this off for a reason.”

You lift your head, looking at his just-visible shape. “Really? I don’t know what you mean,” you flirt.

He’s silent. You’re sure he’s rolling his eyes, absolutely certain. “May I kiss you?”

The words are ever blunt, just like Din. “Yes, you bantha,” you tease, but the laughter is gone as his hands find your face again.

Just like that, his lips are on yours, radiating heat and love and it immediately tops the feeling of his arms around you. You gasp, not expecting him to do it so quickly, but your lips quickly meld to his and you sigh in content.

You stay like that for a while, hands traveling each other’s heads and necks and shoulders and sides as you kiss. He’s so warm and strong, his muscles just as sculpted as the indestructible metal that covers him. He’s so human.

After a bit, Din breaks away and presses his forehead to yours once more. He doesn’t speak, just rests there, his hands on your waist. His breath mingles with yours. For once, you’re speechless, unsure of what you can say back. The sarcasm has been stripped from your body like the beskar from Din’s.

“I better put the helmet back on,” he murmurs.

“Please don’t,” you whisper, tucking your face into the curve of his neck. You sit on the couch and he follows, desperate not to lose your touch. “Just… we’ll stay like this.”

He nods. He can’t say no when you kiss his neck feather-lightly, when your skin is pressed to his like this. He hasn’t had contact like this in years. He’ll prolong it as long as he can.

You do stay like that, relaxed and curled into each other. His arm wraps around you and you curl into a ball, nestled into his side. It’s been a long day for Din, you know, but the depth of it occurs to you as his breathing slows and his muscles relax.

He’s fallen asleep in your arms. You press a soft kiss to his neck and set a timer on the wrist-comm you’re wearing, so that you’ll both wake while it’s still dark in the room. For now, he deserves his rest. His face nuzzles into your hair, and he gives a soft sigh in his sleep. Yes, this is exactly what the beskar warrior needed: rest and you.

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calaofnoldor · 3 years

Text

Driving My Baby

Characters: Dean x Reader (gender neutral)

Words: 2,183 (i can’t drabble)

Summary: Dean doesn’t know about your mad skills behind the wheel, but it turns out there’s nothing hotter than seeing his baby driving his Baby.

Warnings: implied smut, language, fluff, dean’s bow legs, references to the fast and furious franchise

A/N: was originally gonna post a slightly angsty 2-part dean fic next, but decided against it in light off recent events lol. there’s really no plot or substance here, just some light floof. (and yes, the title is a reference to the song ‘you’re having my baby’)

MASTERLIST

The roar of Baby’s engine rumbled to a halt as Dean glanced over at you, “Alright, so you gonna sit tight while I go scope this place out?”

You sent him a close-lipped smile, trying your best to repress the excitement bubbling within you. “Mhm!” you concurred with a bouncy nod, pausing to sneak a quick peek at his shapely behind when he stepped out of the car, “I’ll try and see if I can get a hold of that morgue guy again.”

Walking over to the passenger side, Dean bent down to kiss you through the open window. “Mmkay, I’ll be back soon,” he mumbled against your lips, before turning to commence his search for the potential vamp hideout you suspected was in the vicinity.

“Oh wait! Dean!” you called out, stopping him in his tracks.

“Yeah?”

“The keys?”

Dean looked down at his pocket where the Impala’s keys were safely nestled and then back up at you with raised brows.

“You’re not gonna leave me in here like a dog, are you?” There was a subtle hint of amusement in your voice, but also a challenging edge, as well as a slight pout which you added for good measure. You knew he could never really say ‘no’ to you.

And as expected, Dean returned to deposit the keys into your waiting hands. You gave him a wide smile in return, “Thank you! Love you!”

Your boyfriend narrowed his glimmering green eyes at you, imparting one last suspicious glimpse in your direction as he grumbled somewhat warily, “Love you too,” and then finally sauntered off for good.

Biting your lip, you watched with bated breath as his figure grew smaller in the rear-view mirror. Normally, you would have enjoyed the exquisite vision of what you often dubbed his ‘sexy ass bow-legged swagger’, but this time, it was when Dean was no longer in sight that a devilish grin broke out across your face.

But really, who could blame you? You’d been a car enthusiast all your life, and classic cars were your weakness. “It’s just you and me now, Baby.” Your fingers glided along the dashboard.

With Sam on the bench due to a broken ankle (courtesy of the werewolf from your last hunt), you and Dean had driven out to Piedmont to take care of this vampire case on your own. So now after two years with the Winchesters, you finally had a chance to explore the front seat of Dean’s Baby, his pride and joy, the glorious, refurbished 1967 Chevy Impala.

When you’d joined forces with the brothers, it was readily agreed upon that you would be better off riding together in the sleek American muscle car, so you ditched your stolen, rusty 2003 Honda Accord and never looked back. Since there was a giant moose to accommodate, you were naturally relegated to the back seat, and rightfully so, but boy, did you miss the thrill of being in the driver’s seat.

You were always a bit of a demon behind the wheel, and it’d been ages since you’d gotten the chance to flex your driving skills. Back when you and Dean first got together, he promised you joyrides (and other recreational activities) in Baby, but the hunting life never seemed to let you get it on.

Sliding across the bench seat, your lungs released a contented sigh as you wrapped your hands around the leather-bound steering wheel. Dean’s bowlegs, however sexy, were not the same length as yours, so you pulled the lever beneath the seat to adjust its position to your liking. Perfect.

You took your time getting to know the ins and outs at the helm of the Impala, though it seemed like none at all had passed when you suddenly heard Dean’s deep voice cry out.

“Y/N!” Your eyes shot up to the rear-view mirror to find an image of the older Winchester running towards the car. “We gotta go!”

Well that’s strange, you thought. Dean never ran – not unless someone, or more often something, was chasing him… Oh shit. Had he somehow woken the vampires? But the sun was still thriving; how much could they retaliate out in the open at this point during the day?

“We gotta get outta here! Now!”

Dean’s voice was much closer now and if you’d learned anything from your experiences hunting with the Winchesters, it was to never doubt your boyfriend’s commands. He was a seasoned pro and possessed instincts like you’d never seen. It’s a good thing you’ve also got some of your own.

Plunging Baby’s key into the ignition, you started the car without hesitation, allowing yourself only a second to relish in the thunderous purr of the engine below you and the incomparable feeling of glee that always sprouted in your chest whenever you were sat at the wheel of a powerful, capable vehicle. Indeed, the adrenaline was already rearing.

As Dean approached the car, you quickly reached over to open the passenger side door for him. “Get in the car!”

“You- Wha-“ Dean stumbled for a split second, so accustomed to taking the driver’s seat. “Y/N, they’re awake and they’ve got bikes – a bunch of Harleys!” he continued to explain, as if that would get you to move out of his designated spot.

“OK, so hurry up!” you yelled again.

Seeing no better option, Dean hastily climbed into the car. Just as he got in, your ears picked up the unmistakable resounding growl of revving motorcycle engines. From the sound of it, they couldn’t be too far off. So when Dean slammed the door shut, your foot came down fast and heavy against Baby’s gas pedal, propelling you forward with an aggressive lurch before you whizzed off, burning rubber and leaving nothing but flying leaves and dust in your wake.

“Jesus!” Dean bellowed; his eyes had grown to about twice their usual size.

You paid him no attention though, too busy reveling in the delightful buzz that vibrated through your body starting from your fingers and toes, where you could feel every unit of Baby’s intoxicating horsepower, and travelling up your limbs until the exhilaration settled deep within your very core.

Stealing a glance at the rear-view mirror, you caught sight of the monster-driven motorcade advancing considerably, so you decided to take the next available turn as an attempt to throw them off. Things were getting truly exciting now.

“Vamps on bikes? Really?! And covered in leather?” you huffed mirthfully with a shake of your head.

But it was Dean’s turn to ignore you. He was clutching at his door tightly, as if afraid your driving might somehow hurl him out of it. In fact, when you took the first corner without warning, Dean just about fell over.

“Woah! Slow down, Toretto!” he shouted in alarm, looking over at you as if you’d grown a second head.

Seeing you’d managed to surprise the vampires with your unexpected maneuver however, a loaded smirk was your only reply.

It took you about twenty minutes to get the vamps off your tail, during which time Dean managed to recover from his initial shock and began instead to absorb your radiant form. The look of exuberance on your face and the utter determination in your bright eyes, mixed with the mischievous tug of your lips, and combined with the all-around liberated and euphoric aura that surrounded you was sexy as hell, not to mention your sheer competence. All of it astounded him and caused his blood to flow to places he could not have foreseen.

You seemed to be completely at one with his esteemed Baby, handling her with perfect control and aptitude, and all the while enjoying yourself so very much. It was something Dean never knew you were capable of, but more so, it was something he never knew he needed.

Dean had always loved how much you loved and appreciated his car, but this made him feel like he was seeing you in a new light; it made him feel like he was falling for you all over again. That devilish glint in your normally kind and virtuous eyes, your ever jubilant and fervent love for life after enduring so much pain and grief, the way you never ceased to amaze and surprise him – it was all gloriously heady and irresistibly addictive. His teeth couldn’t help but pull at his lower lip, emerald eyes glazing over with lust and adoration as he stared over at you in the driver’s seat.

So when you ultimately pulled into an empty clearing, not wanting to lead the vamps straight back to your motel room, Dean was at a loss for words.

“So, a bloodsucking motorcycle gang, huh? Can’t say I’ve seen that before,” you speculated in a cheery, nonchalant tone, feeling perfectly satisfied after your little stunt driving escapade.

Dean, on the other hand, appeared not unlike a fish out of water with his furrowed brows and pouty lips which appeared undecided as to whether they should remain open or closed.

“That was… I just- You-… I don’t even know…” he ran his hands through his hair, pulling the short strands forward roughly, “What just happened?”

You sent him a small, innocent shrug, rather amused at his adorably stuttery response.

“You never told me you could drive like that.”

“You never asked,” you replied truthfully.

“Fuck, Y/N. That was… so… incredibly…”

What? Your curiosity was killing you. Dean’s opinion always mattered to you and at the moment, you could read a myriad of emotions upon his face. He looked stunned and confused, perhaps a bit frightened, but at the same time awed and impressed, and maybe even – were you reading that right? – slightly… aroused?

Dean lowered his voice to answer your unspoken question, “Hot,” he finished emphatically.

You heaved a breathy laugh, “Yeah?”

“Fuck yes! Baby, that was incredible. The way you handled Baby like a fucking pro, the little faces you made when you were living for the thrill of the chase. The skill, the speed, the Tokyo drifting, all of it. Goddamn, you are so sexy when you’re driving my Baby like that.”

“Well that’s a coincidence ‘cause I also happen to find you amazingly sexy when you’re behind this wheel,” you joked lightly, “In fact, I think seeing you drive this car might’ve been part of the reason I fell in love with you.”

“And I think I just fell in love with you all over again,” came Dean’s suave response.

You giggled a bit, but soon sobered when you saw his gorgeous eyes cloud over with wanton desire. One minute you were dwelling in the heavily charged sexual tension that seemed to consume the entire car, watching his gaze wander down to your lips while yours did the same, and in the next your mouths met ferociously as your bodies swooped forwards simultaneously, crashing together in the center of Baby’s front seat.

You moaned into the kiss, your hands finding their way around Dean’s ridiculously broad shoulders and up to his thick neck. When you were forced to come up for air, his lips began to work their way down to your collar bone. “Mmm, god Dean.”

“Seriously baby, that was such a turn on,” he rambled across your skin, “I didn’t even know driving could be so hot.”

Your laughter was really more just an exhalation of air. “Are we finally gonna do it? Are we gonna christen Baby now, thanks to your newfound kink?” you whispered salaciously, your brain already presenting obscene images of the two of you re-enacting something akin to the infamous Titanic scene.

Dean paused for a moment, allowing you to rip off his outer layers with relish before he brought his large hands up to cup your cheeks. “See I wouldn’t call it ‘newfound’,” he started, dazzling forest orbs boring into your soul, “Cause I’m pretty sure it only turns me on when it’s you behind the wheel, and I’ve always had a kink for you.”

You stare at him in disbelief, unable to keep the smile off your face, “You are such a smooth fucker sometimes, Dean Winchester.” And with that, your lips and bodies collided yet again. His strong hands held you impossibly close while yours ran joyously across his expansive chest before travelling down to find the zipper of his jeans.

“Ungh, wait a sec,” you pulled back a little with knitted brows, a playfully incredulous tone taking over your voice, “Did you call me Dominic Toretto earlier?”

“Well, yeah. You were driving like a madman!” Dean exclaimed candidly.

You smirked, “So does that make you Letty Ortiz?”

“Sweetheart, I will gladly be the Letty to your Dom anytime you want… I still can’t believe you just took me on a high-speed car chase, that was fucking awesome! Just wait ‘til Sam hears about this one!”

Laughing as you pulled him back in, you shut him up with your tongue as it invaded his mouth, pausing only to smile against his luscious lips, “Mmm, well maybe he doesn’t have to hear about this next part?”

A/N #2: thank you so much for reading, feedback always appreciated! oh and here’s a look at some new stuff at lexicolor.redbubble.com :)

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keigoslovebird · 3 years

Text

Next Chapter

Pairing: Ushijima Wakatoshi x Reader

Warnings: Manga spoilers!! Pregnancy and references to pregnancy, you have a child (obvi), aged up characters, breeding kink, negative self image (on Toshi’s part), references to alcohol, self deprecating language, very fluffy Daddy Toshi shenanigans

Genre: Fluff, smut

Word count: 8.3k

Author’s note: I had so much fun writing soft husband Toshi, if it isn’t obvious by the word count. I just want to rub his soft belly and tell him how much I love him. Hopefully you enjoy this as much as I did writing it!

Note: Flashbacks indicated by italics

Wakatoshi Ushijima has always been a man of few emotions and even fewer words, with just one thing on his mind—volleyball.

Since he was a young child, he has always slept, eaten, breathed volleyball. Nothing came close to his fiery, burning passion for the sport, not that he had the time to care about anything else.

That all changed when he retired from professional volleyball at the ripe young age of thirty-one, the years of wear and tear on his body finally catching up to him. He knew it was time when the pain in his joints was so severe he could no longer keep up with his much younger teammates. It was a difficult, emotional decision, but he ultimately viewed it as passing the torch to the next generation of volleyball players.

The announcement of Wakatoshi’s retirement was met with great sadness from the sports community at the loss of such a talented, renowned player, but he left behind an exceptional legacy marked by achievements and historic wins.

His final game with the Schweiden Adlers concluded in a symbolic victory, this chapter of his life drawing to a close the same way it began—with Wakatoshi as an indisputable champion. Every player, coach, and audience member rose from their seats, clapping and screaming words of encouragement. Each of his teammates got on their knees, lowering themselves to press their foreheads into the floor of the stadium, bowing in an ultimate show of respect. The sight of his peers, his coaches, the entire auditorium giving him such an impassioned send off made a heavy lump form in his throat that refused to go away, no matter how many times he tried to swallow it down. Tears pricked at his eyes but he didn’t want to cry, not in front of all of these people.

The dam broke when you sprinted across the court, wrapping yourself around him in a bone crushing hug.

“You did so well Toshi. I am so proud of you,” you praised through choked sobs, pressing your tear-stained face into his neck. Your watery eyes and trembling smile shattered whatever willpower he had, his own tears streaming down his face like a waterfall. All those late night practices away from you, the excruciating injuries, the heartbreaking losses, all led up to this moment. This was the last time the Super Ace would step foot on a volleyball court as a professional player, but all good things must come to an end.

The screaming and clapping was so loud you could barely hear his quiet, trembling whisper of, “I love you.”

----

It took him awhile to adjust to what one would call a “normal” life, one that didn’t include daily flights from country to country or backbreaking practices that lasted from sunup to sundown. Sure he still went to the gym and practiced with the volleyball net strung up in your backyard, but it was nothing like his grueling schedule when he was a pro athlete. To make matters worse, the blinders he wore his entire life that blocked out anything but volleyball prevented him from finding any real hobbies of his own. This meant for the first few months, your husband followed you around the house like a lost puppy, just wanting to be a part of whatever you were doing.

You would be cooking dinner, some soup simmering on the stove, when Wakatoshi’s massive form would come up from behind you to shyly peek over your shoulder.

“What’re you doing?” he wondered, resting his head in the crook of your neck.

You could feel a smile tugging at your lips at how cute he was being, getting used to domestic life, something you never really got to experience until now. Before, you would often be sleeping when he came home at night, and still be asleep when he left in the morning. “I’m just cooking, do you want to help me?” you asked, holding a knife out to him to cut some vegetables. He nodded silently as he took the knife from you.

His chopping skills left much to be desired, but what could you really expect from a man who only ever held a volleyball?

Another time you were sitting on the couch, scrolling through Twitter on your phone. You could feel your husband staring so intensely you were afraid he’d pop a blood vessel in his head.

Looking up at him, you cleared your throat and asked, “Did you need something, Toshi?” You set your phone down and gave him a questioning look, hoping to solve whatever was troubling him.

He was pensive for a moment, his eyebrows scrunching as he figured out what he was trying to say. “No, I just… There’s nothing to do,” he answered finally.

You nearly burst out laughing at his concern for simply being bored, but you held it in. “Of course there’s something to do!” you exclaimed, “You can go on a walk, read a book, watch TV, or even just take a nap.”

His head tilted quizzically, unsure of what you were suggesting. “A… nap? Why would I sleep? It’s the middle of the afternoon,” he questioned, sounding like you had proposed he eat sand and not to take a quick snooze.

You chuckled and walked over to the chair he was sitting in, plopping yourself down into his lap. “Sometimes people sleep in the middle of the day because they’re tired, or just because they want to,” you clarified, “We can go take a nap right now if you would like.”

Suddenly Wakatoshi stood up, causing you to squeak in surprise, his arms securely carrying you bridal style.

“W-what’re you doing!?” you squealed, panicked by your sudden lack of solid ground, slightly struggling in arms.

He tilted his head again, reminiscent of a pet confused by its master’s orders. “We’re going to take a nap together, yes? I’m taking you to our room,” he said, jerking his head in the direction of your shared bedroom.

You stopped squirming once you took in his words, your belly fluttering with affection. Sighing happily, you snuggled your face against his chest, giving him a simple “mhm” in response.

That day Wakatoshi took his first nap since he was six years old and to this day, he still swears he’s never had a more restful, peaceful sleep in his life.

Those instances happened less and less often as he figured out ways to occupy his time that didn’t involve volleyball.

You adopted a dog, a commitment you didn’t want to make in the past due to both of your busy schedules, but your lives became a lot less hectic after Wakatoshi’s retirement. Your husband made it a daily ritual to take your puppy Leo out on a morning run, both of them returning tired and sweaty before promptly passing out for an hour. He took up a job at the local university to help coach their men’s volleyball team, deciding to try it out when the requests to lend his wisdom and skills kept coming in. Although, his favorite pastime now consists of him standing outside on the patio, beer in hand as he sweats over the flames of his fancy silver grill.

But perhaps the most significant change in your lives came in the form of your son, Hidetoshi.

Much like your refusal to commit to taking care of a dog, neither of you wanted to have kids while your lifestyle was so unfit to raise a child. You didn’t mind making those compromises for your husband, having known the path he would take since you started dating in high school. Frankly, you didn’t mind not having children at all, so it surprised you when he was the one to broach the subject.

“What if we did?” he inquired under the darkness of your bedroom.

You turned over to face him, reaching up to gently stroke his cheek. “What if we did what, my love?” you murmured.

His eyes flitted across your face with an uncharacteristic nervousness. “What if we decided to have a child?” The shock on your face made his stomach churn uncomfortably and he almost regretted saying anything at all, but his fears quickly vanished as your expression melted into a soft smile.

“We’d have to talk about it more but I’d love to have your children, Wakatoshi Ushijima.”

You had a deep, lengthy conversation about your wants, needs, plans for the future, and whether or not a kid would fit into them. Once all of your cards were on the table you decided to start trying to get pregnant, a mission that your husband took very seriously.

Even as a teenager Wakatoshi’s sex drive wasn’t very high, and his frequent absence and exhaustion in his adult life made it somewhat difficult for you to have sex often. You made up for it where you could, having phone sex and masturbating together over FaceTime, once you convinced him to do it. When he was bewildered as to why you would suggest such a salacious act, you explained you were a grown woman with needs and if he wasn’t there to take care of them, he’d have to help you in other ways. Once he realized how serious you were, he agreed.

But your husband as a young adult and your husband post-retirement are almost two completely different people in regards to sex. He has seemingly unlimited reserves of stamina, built up over years of rigorous, intense training, and he no longer had an outlet to expend them. So, his new outlet to test his endurance became you and your body.

He began fucking you every chance he got with the vigor and gusto of a hormonal teenager, seeking to make up for lost time. He asked for sex at all hours of the day, waking you up in the middle of the night with the insistent prodding of his arousal and lazily thrusting between your thighs in the early hours of the morning before you had to leave for work. He fucked you in every room in your house and on every surface—on the dining room table, in the shower, on the living room floor, and even on your back patio when you both got a little too drunk on some cheap rose.

You welcomed Wakatoshi’s insatiable hunger with open arms, unable to resist your strong, ridiculously handsome husband, but that, coupled with his seemingly limitless stamina, spelled trouble for your muscles and pelvis. In the first year after his departure from professional sports you had to call in sick to work seven times, too tired to function, too bruised to look presentable, and too sore to walk to the bathroom. At first he felt guilty for fucking you out of commission, but the way you begged him so sweetly to pound your needy, gushing cunt deeper, harder, faster and how you whimpered with delight when he bit bruises down your throat, he didn’t feel that bad. A baser, more primal part of Wakatoshi’s brain purred at his marks covering our body and relished in the way you limped. You were just too tempting, too irresistible not to ravage you every chance he got.

After you agreed to start trying for a baby, your partner’s already voracious sexual appetite became downright menacing now that he had a goal to strive for.

“Gonna breed you, gonna fill you so full with my cum and knock you up,” he grunted as he battered into your sore, dripping hole, your body folded in half in a mating press.

“P-please Toshi! Ah~ please,” you babbled, nonsensical and uncertain what you were even asking for. He had been fucking you for so long everything was muddled into a singular dreamy, intangible haze of pleasure and ecstasy.

Wakatoshi gave your clit a slap, hard enough to make you cry out. “Please what? Please breed you like a bitch in heat? Please stuff you full with my cum?” He leaned down to wrap his fingers around your throat, squeezing with enough force to make your head swim and forcing you to look into his wild olive eyes. “Well, what is it?” he demanded.

“W-want you to b-ah! Want you to breed mee,” you slurred, too drunk on the delicious feeling of his cock dragging against your pulsing walls to form a more coherent sentence.

His thrusts grew sloppy and uncoordinated with his impending orgasm. “G-gonna give you what you want, you cock hungry slut, I’m—” He came with a choked, shuddering groan, his warm cum flooding your awaiting womb.

You were both basking in the afterglow, exhausted and soaked in sweat and your combined fluids, when you noticed the furious blush spreading across your husband’s cheeks. “I apologize for what I said during sex. I… I don’t know what came over me,” he confessed, giving your shoulder a remorseful squeeze.

Giggling, you leaned forward to kiss his cheek. “Don’t be sorry. I really enjoyed it,” you proclaimed, “I love it when you get rough with me.”

Trying to get you pregnant gave your husband a new goal to strive for and he has never been one to do anything with less than his all.

Thanks to your husband’s dedicated efforts, you got pregnant six months after you started trying, to your shared elation and delight. Those two little lines filled you with as much excitement as they made you anxious, but as long as Wakatoshi was by your side, everything would be okay.

Seeing your little bundle of joy in a 3D ultrasound changed you, changed Wakatoshi forever. Up until then you had only seen him as a colorless little blur on a computer screen, but getting to watch his precious face scrunch and his chubby legs kick reminded you that he was a real living being. The late night sprints to the bathroom, horrible morning sickness, and miserably aching back were all worth it when you were able to hold Hidetoshi for the first time. With his olive eyes, brown hair and chubby cheeks, he was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen and to this day he still is.

Taking after his father from the start, Hidetoshi was a happy baby that rarely fussed or cried, not that you complained. He slept soundly through most nights, so soundly you slept in a chair by his crib for the first month to periodically check he was still breathing, despite your husband’s insistence the baby would be fine. Your mother-in-law had insisted that you and Wakatoshi would be exhausted for the first several months after the birth. Imagine her surprised when you and Wakatoshi looked just as well-rested as usual, better even, since you no longer had to deal with pregnancy. Many people, relatives and strangers alike, were astounded at how charming and polite your son was, even as a newborn. He was happy to just sit and play with his toys as you had lunch, smiling and waving at everyone who passed by.

A man as attractive as your husband with a boy as sweet as your son meant that, much to your irritation, women were tripping over themselves to flirt with him. To make matters worse, Wakatoshi picked up your son alone most days due to your office job preventing you from leaving early enough to go with him. This meant many of the moms at Hidetoshi’s school thought your husband was single and they weren’t shy in their pursuit.

A crowd of women surrounded Wakatoshi as he waited for school to end so your son would come running out with his arms spread wide, confident his daddy would always catch him. Most of the moms simply stared at your husband with dreamy looks in their eyes, attempting to make small talk with him.

One especially bold mother reached out and stroked his bicep, slightly squeezing to get a feel for his muscles. “My my Ushijima, you’re so handsome and strong,” she purred, batting her eyelashes at him.

“My wife thinks so as well,” he grunted as he gently but firmly removed his arm from her grasp.

The woman looked as if he had slapped her across the face and cursed her family. “Y-you’re married? But you don’t even have a wedding ring!” she spluttered, “If you have a wife then where is she everyday?”

“I do have a ring. I just don’t wear it on my finger because I’m afraid of losing it,” he clarified, lightly tugging on the chain around his neck for emphasis, his ring clinking softly against the metal. “I’m happily married to my wife who cannot be here because she is hard at work providing for our family. Do not disrespect my wife or my marriage again or we will have a problem.”

After that the other moms kept their distance, choosing to admire Wakatoshi from afar. It did not, however, stop them from staring with envy on the rare occasion you came with him to pick up your child, glowering at you with an intensity that surely wished you would drop dead. Your husband paid them no mind and neither did you because at the end of the day, you’re the one he chose to marry and have a child with. They can all flirts and look as much as they want, but they’ll never have him like you do.

----

Fast forward to present day, Wakatoshi is seven years into his retirement at the age of thirty-eight and Hidetoshi is now six.

Your husband is an assistant coach part time for the men’s volleyball team at an up and coming university, the rest of his time divided between you and taking care of your son. Hidetoshi just started kindergarten, growing far too fast for your liking. He seems to have gotten a double dose of his father’s genes as he’s already several inches taller than his classmates, though you can tell by the way he smiles and the slope of his nose that he’s yours as well. He’s the perfect combination of both of you—he has Wakatoshi’s tenacity, work ethic, and confidence and your sense of humor, intelligence, and empathy. He continues to amaze you every single day and you nor your husband couldn’t imagine a boy more wonderful than him.

These days your lives are a lot less busy than they were when your husband was still a pro, but sometimes it doesn’t feel that way. With all the playdates, school functions, and parent-teacher conferences combined with your own job, Wakatoshi’s games, and regular house chores, sometimes it feels like you’re right back where you were ten years ago. This time, however, you have your incredible husband and son helping you and you wouldn’t trade your life for anything, no matter how hectic it may be.

Today is Saturday, it’s the weekend, and you’re only awake because of the bright sunlight that’s streaming through your bedroom window and hitting you directly in the face. You rub the sleep out of your eyes with the back of your hand, yawning loudly as you stretch your tired limbs. As soon as you try to get out of bed Wakatoshi’s arm around your waist tightens, pulling you flush against his solid, muscular chest.

“Don’t leave. Don’t need to be anywhere,” he mumbles into his pillow, voice even deeper and raspier with sleep. His legs entangle themselves with your own so you’re completely enveloped in the warm, comforting embrace of your husband.

“Need to start getting ready for the party,” you sigh drowsily, but make no efforts to remove yourself from his sleepy but surprisingly strong clutches.

“Not yet,” he says simply, and that’s when you realize when he’s doing. He’s slowly, lazily grinding his morning wood on the soft curve of your ass. You’re a little more awake now.

“Oh I see what this is about,” you chuckle, wiggling yourself against him teasingly.

He groans quietly under his breath, but you can feel the sound rumble in his chest. “Want you,” he says, still groggy from just barely waking up. His fingers find the hem of your shirt and he slips them underneath it, trailing his digits lightly down your stomach, making you shiver.

“Little man will be up soon,” you halfheartedly protest, but you can feel the warmth pooling between your legs.

“He’s not up yet, we have time.” The movements of his hips become more insistent, more demanding and you have to stifle your mewls behind your hand. Wakatoshi easily maneuvers his hand into the waistband of your panties, making a satisfied hum when he discovers you’re already dripping for him.

You’re still resisting, though it’s weak and feeble. The list of all the preparations you have to make for the barbecue still manage to just barely cut through your sleepy arousal. “We have so much to d—ahh~” You try to sound firm, but it just comes out as a breathy moan when he begins rubbing your swollen clit.

He uses his other hand to push up your shirt that’s actually his shirt, tracing small circles around your nipples with his rough fingertips. You try to push your hips into his hand in hopes to gain more friction, but his arms keep you locked in place.

“No need to rush. Let’s just enjoy this,” he insists, but the finger massaging your bud gets faster, knowing just how to make you whine after all the time he’s had to learn your body. He pinches one of your nipples between two fingers and squeezes with just enough force to make you gasp.

His erection has gotten even harder at the sound of your mewls and whimpers, hot and achingly hard against your ass and your cunt clenches in anticipation. Your slick is dripping out of you in thick, syrupy strings that makes your thighs sticky, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

“Please Toshi, need you,” you beg, desperate for your husband to stuff you full just as he’s done so many times before.

Wakatoshi doesn’t respond, opting to push his pants and underwear down to his knees and you almost sigh in relief, just needing to satisfy the desire that’s threatening to burn you from the inside out. You’re so hot you feel like you’re burning and you throw the comforter off of you to try to escape the heat. He removes the hand that was in your panties, instead using it to rub his hard length along your slick folds. You’re keening and so so needy, gasping each time the head catches on the tight ring of muscle around your entrance.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he grits out, barely able to control himself.

Your breath is coming in short, uneven pants as you try to sink yourself down onto him. “I love you so much I...”

That’s the moment when he sheaths his entire cock inside you in a singular fluid movement. You let out a strangled moan, relishing in the familiar burning as you stretch to accommodate how thick he is. Your pussy clamps down on him like a vice, molding perfectly around his length.

“It’s like you were made for me, made to take me,” Wakatoshi growls, sending another wave of arousal rippling through your body. He stays still for a moment, breathing deeply because he doesn’t want to cum and have this end so soon.

He starts moving his hips, thrusting slow and deep to reach the spongy spot inside you that makes you scream. The hand on your breast reaches around to grab your throat, stifling your moans into small, stuttering gasps. You whine each time he shoves himself deep inside you, his cock dragging deliciously against your spongy walls.

You stay like that for a while, bodies joined in the most intimate of ways as Wakatoshi moves his hips in leisurely, unhurried strokes. Your body is hot, sweaty, thrumming with the pleasure that’s so overwhelming all you can focus on is the intoxicating feeling of your husband’s cock deep inside you. The tightening in your core signals your impending orgasm, but each time you get close to the edge, it escapes your grasp over and over again. You need him to pound into you faster, harder. You need more.

“Toshi please, I-I need,” you manage to stammer out, but your words are stolen from your throat as he sharply thrusts as deep as he can, the tip of his cock smashing against your cervix with just the right amount of pressure.

“Don’t worry. I know just what you need.”

Wakatoshi is fucking you with so much force that your eyes are rolling back in your head, and all you can hear is the wet slapping sound each time he’s sucked back into your wet heat. He’s close, you can tell by the breathy groans he’s making, but so are you. You clench and spasm around him, growing impossibly tighter and bringing both of you closer to climax. His merciless pounding of your insides just gets faster and rougher, and his other hand moves down to rub your clit in tight, fast circles.

The pleasure that clouds your senses is overwhelming, just dancing on the edge between pleasure and pain and your body can’t take it anymore. Your vision goes white as you cum, cunt clamping down so hard Wakatoshi can barely move. You clamp a hand over your mouth to keep from screaming, your body shaking and trembling as you gush around him. The endless clenching of your muscles practically milks his orgasm out of him, a stifled groan leaving his lips as his thick, hot cum coats your insides. All you can do is moan softly in appreciation, too incoherent to say anything else.

Your husband presses a kiss to your sweaty neck. “Are you okay?” he asks, taking in the sight of your limp, spent body.

You haven’t caught your breath yet and your lips won’t form proper words, so you make the only noise you can, “Mmfmm.”

You whine as he slowly pulls out his softening length with an audible pop, sensitive cunt spasming at the slightest stimulation. He untangles himself from you and you want to reach out for him, but you’re too boneless to even attempt to do anything yet.

As Wakatoshi gets out of bed to get a warm washcloth, you hear the familiar sound of little footsteps making their way towards your room and you shoot up in bed, fully alert. You quickly pull the covers over your body, just in time for Hidetoshi to come bounding in.

“G’morning Mama! Where’s Daddy?” he wonders, his little head poking around the corner.

Your husband comes out of the bathroom, now fully dressed and washcloth in hand. “I’m right here, Hidetoshi.” The boy runs straight towards his father who picks him up effortlessly, swinging him around in the air as he squeals with delight. “Did you sleep well?”

Hide bobs his head enthusiastically, “Mhm! I had a dream I was a professional volleyball player just like you.”

Your loud, exaggerated sigh draws both sets of olive eyes to you, but you train your gaze on your husband. “Have you been putting ideas in his head?”

Wakatoshi shakes his head no, but the child in his arms pipes up first, “Daddy has been showing me videos of his old matches from when he was with the Schwimmy Addles.” Your husband makes a noise of surprise, a guilty look on his face now that he’s been found out.

“You two are going to be my undoing, I swear,” you chuckle as you flop back into the fluffy pillows.

Hide squirms in his father’s arms, reaching out to you, but the man recognizes the warning look in your eyes and tightens his arms around him. “We should let Mama finish waking up first. Why don’t we go downstairs and make breakfast?” he asks, tickling his sides.

The boy shrieks with laughter and wriggles even harder in Wakatoshi’s arms. “F-fine Daddy! Stooop it!” Your husband stops his tickling and hoists your son over his shoulder, gently patting his back.

He passes the washcloth to Hide. “Why don’t you give this to your mama? Then we can go have something to eat.”

Hide uses his little arms to hold the cloth out to you and you take it from him, nodding with gratitude. “Thank you sweetie, now go with your daddy.”

Your husband starts walking towards the door as a small, chubby hand waves bye to you and you blow kisses to them as they disappear into the hallway.

Using the washcloth, you clean the mess between your legs and muster the monumental effort it takes to get out of bed. You begrudgingly walk over to your dresser to put on clean pajamas and brush your hair so you’re presentable for a meal with your family. The sound of the fire alarm going off has you racing downstairs to the kitchen where Wakatoshi and your son should be.

As you slide into the kitchen and almost fall on the slippery hardwood in your haste, you realize your panic was for nothing. There’s a pan on the stove, grey smoke billowing out of it. Upon further inspection you discern that it’s eggs, you think, that are simultaneously under and overcooked. The guilty parties are sitting at the kitchen table a few feet away, a jug of milk and a couple of boxes of cereal surrounding them. Hide is shoveling spoonfuls of Cheerios into his mouth as your husband eats his own breakfast, only slightly neater in his approach.

“So… you tried to cook?” you ask, quirking an eyebrow at the large man chewing his Wheat Chex. He looks over at you and nods, mouth full with milk and cereal. “I’m guessing it didn’t go very well, judging by all the smoke,” you say slowly. Your husband simply shakes his head no, unbothered by the fact that he nearly gave you a heart attack.

Deciding it’s not worth the argument or the work to make a proper breakfast, you sit down next to Hide and pour yourself a bowl of Cheerios. He smiles at you, mouth open and full of disgusting half-chewed food, but you still return his beaming grin and ruffle his hair. The both of them are troublemakers in their own ways, but they’re your troublemakers nonetheless.

After you’ve all eaten breakfast, you lay a notepad in front of them that has a list of all the things you have to do before your guests arrive for the barbecue.

You’re standing between them, pointing at each task on the list. “I still have to sweep and vacuum the house, Toshi you need to go to the store and buy all the food, and Hide you need to pick up all your toys that are in the backyard. We have a lot to do today and everyone has to do their part, okay?” you urge, looking between the males on either side of you and they both nod emphatically.

With everyone so busy, it’s difficult to find weekends where they’re all available so this get together has been planned for months. You’ll all be seeing friends and loved ones you haven’t seen in a long time, and it’s a team effort to make sure everything is ready for tonight.

----

You finish all of the tasks on time, with an hour to spare thanks to your joint efforts.

Hide is playing in his room while you and your husband get dressed and ready for what will likely be a long night of socializing and entertaining.

As you’re doing your makeup and getting ready for the party, you notice Wakatoshi staring at himself in the mirror, shirtless. His brows are furrowed, a deep frown on his face as he scrutinizes his reflection. He pinches his belly with both hands, scowling at the softness that used to be hard muscle. Tracing a finger along the stretch marks on his stomach and arms, he sighs heavily.

“Babe, what’s wrong?” you ask from the bathroom.

Your husband walks over to lean against the wall behind you, his unreadable expression reflected in the bathroom mirror. He hesitates before answering, “I’ve let myself go.”

You set your mascara down on the counter and spin around to face him. “Wakatoshi, what in the world are you talking about?”

“I just said what. I heard a couple of my players say that I’m not as strong or as fast as I was when I was a professional.”

You loosely wrap your arms around his torso, squeezing gently. “Of course you’re not what you used to be, Toshi.” At the sight of his deepening frown you quickly add, “You’re so busy being a father, husband, and coach you don’t have the time to work out like you used to.” Getting on your tippy toes, you press a kiss to his nose, “And that’s okay.” It’s a rare occasion that he looks this vulnerable. His anxiety and self-consciousness are so clearly written in his features and it makes your heart ache for him.

“It doesn’t bother you that I don’t look like that anymore?” he asks, pointing at the framed photo of his first win with the Japan National Team that hangs on the wall.

“Why would it bother me? This is the body races my son across our backyard, helps me fix our home we bought together, and makes love to me every night. I love you just as much as I did back then, and even more now that we have Hide,” you reassure him and you mean every word of it. Sure he’s not the most romantic of husbands, but he’s your husband and you love him just the way he is, with or without muscles.

A smile tugs at the corners of his lips and he squeezes you even tighter to him. “I know I probably don’t say this as much as I should, but I love you.”

You pepper kisses all over his eyelids, lips and nose. “And I love you more than anything, Wakatoshi. More than you will ever know.”

Your hands lovingly caress his chest that’s softer now, but still sturdy and muscular, and his arms that are not as lean anymore, but are still just as powerful and capable. “For the record, I love how soft you are these days. It’s great cushioning for when we cuddle.”

“Hidetoshi says the same thing,” he recalls, smiling at the thought of your beloved son.

After giving him a knowing look, you go back to putting on your makeup. “See? I told you. That boy is just as smart as his mother.”

It’s nearing five o’clock so Wakatoshi goes to the backyard to start grilling the food for everyone, while you and Hide finish plating the fruits and vegetables you prepared earlier.

You work in comfortable silence until your son turns to you, his eyes shining with unanswered questions. “Hey Mama?”

Putting down the strawberry you were holding, you sit down on the stool next to him and hold his hands in yours. “What’s on your mind, sweetie?”

“Do you not want me to be a volleyball player like Daddy? Is that why you got mad when I told you he showed me the videos?”

You almost break your neck with how fast you shake your head in denial. “Of course not! I wasn’t mad, it’s just…” you start, trying to find a way to phrase your thoughts that he’ll understand. “Daddy’s job was very hard. His body still hurts a lot from all the times he got injured when he played volleyball. And… his job took him away from me and I missed him a whole lot.”

The look on his face is so reminiscent of his father, it’s like young Wakatoshi was frozen in time and plopped into the chair right next to you. With the way his eyebrows are scrunched up and his mouth is downturned as he thinks, he really is the spitting image of your husband. “Did it make you sad?”

Taking a deep breath, you hold your arms out to him so he can climb into your lap. “Sometimes it did. Mostly at night when I was all alone and Daddy was really far away.”

He rests his head against your shoulder, looking up at you. “Do you wish Daddy had a different job?”

You look out the window at your husband who’s starting up the grill, then look back at the sweet, round face of your boy. “No, I don’t. Daddy’s job was really important to him and it made him so happy that I grew to love it too, even if it made me sad sometimes.”

He sits up in your lap, thinking hard about what you said as he plays with your necklace. “Does Daddy still wish he could do it?”

“Probably, but it’s okay. If he hadn’t stopped, we wouldn’t have you, and you make our lives so much brighter and happier. Your Daddy and I love you so much, you couldn’t even imagine it.”

He spreads his arms out as far as he can. “This much?”

You shake your head. “Nope. Even more.”

“Wow, that’s a lot.” Hide’s eyes are wide with surprise, mouth slightly agape as he tries to imagine something so large and vast.

Laughing, you press a kiss to his head. “It sure is a lot, baby. Now why don’t we finish putting out all the food so we can go see what Daddy’s doing?”

Your son leaps out of your lap to grab handfuls of grapes and blueberries from the cartons on the counter, dropping them into the divided sections of the serving platter. “Aren’t you going to help me, Mama?”

You give him a look of mock offense before standing ramrod straight, giving him a mock salute. “As you command, Commander Ushijima.”

You carry both trays of food out to the backyard, not trusting Hide’s ability to hold them upright, while he carries a volleyball in his arms. Wakatoshi turns at the sound of footsteps, a small smile on his face as your son drops the volleyball, barreling straight into his legs with a force that makes the man grunt.

Hide looks up at his father, both arms wrapped around his legs. “Whatcha doing Daddy?” he asks.

Your husband reaches a hand down to ruffle his hair, a slight look of pain in his eyes from the boy slamming into his shins. “I’m just getting ready to start cooking the food for tonight. Do you want to help me?” He bends down to pick him up and Hide quickly hops into his arms, well practiced and effortless with how strong your husband is. The man points to different parts of the grill, explaining what they do, taking care to keep the boy far away from the flames.

Setting the plates down on the table, you inform Wakatoshi, “Hajime and Tooru should be here soon, so should Tobio and Eita. Satori called and said he might be late, something about his luggage getting lost.” At that moment the doorbell rings, signaling your first guests are here. “I’ll get it. You two stay here and get the food on the grill.”

You open the front door, greeted with the familiar faces of Hajime and Tooru. “It’s so nice to see you two! Come on inside, don’t be shy,” stepping aside, you hold your arm out to welcome them into your home.

“Mrs. Ushijima you get more and more beautiful each time I see you,” Tooru teases as you snicker in response.

“I see marriage hasn’t changed you at all, has it?” you question, more so directed at Hajime.

“I tell him people are going to get the wrong idea,” the shorter man replies, sounding exasperated.

You usher them towards the backyard before picking up various soda and beer cans. “Wakatoshi and Hide are both in the back. You two go ahead and keep them company while I bring these out.”

It takes a few trips before you join them in the backyard, handing each adult a can and a juice pouch to Hide, who’s sitting at the picnic table with Tooru while Hajime chats with your husband.

“How old are you now, little man?” the brunette asks.

Hide holds up five fingers plus his thumb as he swings his legs back and forth. “I’m six! I just started kindergarten.”

They both wave at you as you join them, sitting on the other side of the table. Tooru leans in towards you, a hand cupped around his mouth, and you tilt your ear towards him. “He’s so… polite and well-mannered. Are you sure Ushiwaka is the father?” he whispers, narrowing his eyes.

You lightly smack his head, glaring daggers in his direction. “Yes, obviously. Look at them, they’re basically twins.” Tooru looks at the boy sitting next to him then at your husband standing at the grill, then back to your son, then back to your husband. Hand on his chin, he takes in their matching olive eyes and hair and similar expressions, nodding seriously.

“I was just making sure.”

The doorbell rings a couple more times, Tobio and Eita arriving one right after the other. With almost all of your guests present, everyone is drinking and catching up, some casually passing a volleyball back and forth with Hide.

You’re in the middle of telling Tobio that Hidetoshi is too young to be thinking about his future career when the doorbell rings once more, indicating the last of your guests has arrived. You rush inside to get it, not bothering to check who’s there because you already know who it is. Swinging the door open, you pull the man into a tight hug.

“Satori! We’re so glad you made it,” you exclaim, giving his back a few hard slaps.

The redhead pulls away from you, smiling. “I’m so glad I was able to make it in time. The airport lost my luggage, then my parents forgot to leave me a key to their house so I had to wait until a neighbor could let me in. To make matters worse, I got stopped by security when I landed because of this,” he says, holding up a white box with a bow around it.

You quickly grab the box, shaking it to try to hear what’s inside and sniffing it for good measure. “Ooh la la, did you bring us some fancy French chocolates?” you ask. “Actually, don’t tell me, Hide will want to open it.” You hand the box back to him and gesture him to follow you, “Everyone’s in the back so just follow me.”

With Satori in tow, you step onto the back porch and call your son’s name. He hands the ball to Eita before running over, eyes lighting up when he sees the man standing next to you.

“Uncle Tori!” he shouts, launching himself into Satori’s arms.

“Hey there Little Toshi, how you been? Keeping your dad out of trouble?” he asks, hugging the boy tightly.

“I think so! Well… we burnt some eggs this morning and the smoke machines started beeping, but that doesn’t count, right?”

The red-haired man waves his hand dismissively. “Of course it doesn’t. Any crimes committed in the name of breakfast are excused,” he insists. Pulling the box out from behind his back, he offers it to Hide. “I brought you something all the way from France, do you know where France is?”

Hide takes the present from him, “Yeah, it’s in Europe! Daddy showed it to me on a map.” He struggles a bit with the bow before he decides to just rip it off, lifting up the lid.

Satori points to the various chocolates laid on top of wax paper. “This one is filled with something called ‘ganache,’ which is basically just more chocolate, but it’s liquidy. That one over there has caramel, and the one right next to it is a bonbon filled with strawberry jelly. I picked all the best ones just for you.”

The boy smiles, eyes wandering over the chocolates like they’re bars of gold. “Thank you Uncle Tori! I bet they’re really yummy.”

He pats Hide on the head. “I hope you enjoy them lots. Now I gotta go say hi to your daddy, where is he?” Your son points to where Wakatoshi is standing at the grill, a spatula in one hand and a beer in the other as he chats with Tobio. “Thanks Little Toshi,” he says, ruffling his hair.

Satori walks over to your husband, pulling him into a crushing bear hug before he can say anything. “Wakatoshi, it’s been too long! I sure get lonely all the way in France, have you guys ever thought about moving?”

Wakatoshi freezes for a moment before giving in, hugging the man back, though slightly stiff in his movements. “We will not be moving to France. Hidetoshi will be raised here in Japan.”

The redhead releases him, sensing his discomfort. “Well, it was worth a shot. How’s your retirement? You miss being a pro?”

“I do miss it sometimes, but it was necessary to let a better, younger player take my place. I wouldn’t trade a few more years on the court for the life I have now with my wife and my son.”

Satori lets out a loud whistle. “I never thought I would hear the day that Wakatoshi Ushijima would say he cares about anything more than volleyball.”

“Volleyball was my entire life before, but they’re my entire world.”

The shorter man just smiles, silent for a moment before pointing to the apron your husband is wearing. “I didn’t think you’d actually wear that thing, Wakatoshi!” The apron black with bright red lettering that says ‘Wakatoshi: Grill Master,’ with a drawing of a flaming steak next to it.

“It keeps my clothes clean. Why wouldn’t I wear it?” he asks, genuinely curious. The redhead just laughs and shakes his head, patting him on the shoulder.

Your husband finishes grilling the food, much to the excitement and relief of the many hungry men who have been circling him like a hawk. Everyone takes from the piles of meat and vegetables, noticeably happier now that their stomachs are full. You’re all sitting around the picnic table, laughing and enjoying each other’s company.

Hajime recalls a story from when he first signed on as the athletic trainer for the national team. Wakatoshi had approached him after practice, saying he had a serious issue that he wanted someone to take a look at. Concerned for his player’s wellbeing, naturally he took him into the locker room and Wakatoshi took off his shirt. At first, he thought he might’ve stretched one of his ligaments too far or had even torn his rotator cuff muscle. Imagine his surprise when Wakatoshi pointed to an ingrown hair on his back, saying it was inflamed and causing him pain. It was then that Hajime had to explain that he’s not that type of medical professional, and that he should make an appointment with a dermatologist.

The sun starts to set, but with the fun everyone is having they barely notice. The night begins to wind down once Hide yawns, rubbing his eyes tiredly, and it sets off a chain reaction of yawning that reaches every person at the table. Your son starts tugging on your sleeve, informing you he’d like to go to bed. Not wanting to leave him alone in the house and taking note of the exhaustion on everyone’s faces, you politely suggest to end the night early. A chorus of heads bob, indicating their desire to head home and sleep.

All three of you hug and kiss everyone goodbye, waving to them as they drive away. You sigh from exhaustion and head inside to put Hide in bed. You and your husband hold each of his hands and take him to his room, pulling back his covers so he can climb in.

He yawns again and closes his eyes, settling into his bed. “Night night Mama, Daddy. I love you.”

You stroke his cheek lovingly before placing a kiss on his forehead. “Goodnight sweetie, I love you too.”

Your husband comes up from behind you to kiss Hide as well. “Sleep well, Hidetoshi. I love you.”

With your son asleep in his own bed, all you have to do is take off your makeup and brush your teeth before you too can sleep.

You’re in the middle of washing your face when Wakatoshi comes into the bathroom to brush his teeth.

“I enjoyed tonight, I hope you did too,” he says.

You turn around to look at him and smile. “I did, it was amazing to see everyone in one place. It’s been years since we were all able to see each other.” After you finish washing your face, you stretch and yawn loudly, telling your husband, “I’m getting in bed now, join me when you’re done.”

Climbing under the sheets, you nestle yourself into the softness of your bed. You nearly doze off right then, but the shifting of the bed under Wakatoshi’s weight keeps you awake just a bit longer.

He slides in behind you so he can spoon you, an arm slung over your waist.

“Goodnight Toshi, I love you.”

“Goodnight, I love you too.”

Before he falls asleep, Wakatoshi thinks of all the things in his life that led him here, to you, his wonderful wife, and his precious son.

Leaving professional volleyball was one of the hardest decisions he’s ever had to make in his thirty-seven years of living, but the end of that chapter of his life gave him Hidetoshi.

He knows that every moment of uncertainty, suffering, and hardship was worth it because it ultimately led him to you and your son, to this life you’ve built together.

He’d do it all over again a thousand times over if it meant that your beautiful, shining face would be there to greet him in the end.

#ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima x reader #ushijima x you #hq smut #hq fanfic #reader insert #hq reader insert #hq imagines #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #ushijima smut #bunny scribbles

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alicemitch09writes · 3 years

Text

(un)loving miya atsumu

twelve.

you’re my sunflower.

You didn’t like zoos.

It’s not like you didn’t like animals, there were a whole lot of fascinating creatures that lurked and filled the earth. Coming in different shapes and sizes - some rule the land, some soar the skies, and some are masters of the ocean, they can even be as large as a mountain or as small as your fingernail. Truly, they are humble dwellers on the face of the earth. It’s just that humanity, since their evolution, has learned to dominate the land thanks to their superior intelligence.

Thus, animalia that once ruled the earth were now cut down while humanity increased.

Once they roamed free, now, they are caged and put on display for all of mankind to see. Isolated from the freedom forever.

Hence, why you didn’t like zoos.

Watching animals on display, not being able to run wild and free just didn’t sit right with you.

“Wah!!!! Look, look, look at it, (Y/N)!” Atsumu held on to the railing, leaning down to look at the nearing creature – it looked like a giraffe, but fluffier, lankier, almost floppy.

Sadly, it was mandatory – being a school event and all. It was your first school trip, since moving to Hyogo. It should be exciting if it weren’t for helpless animals put on display.

“It looks like a giraffe and a sheep had a baby,” Osamu said, nearly voicing out your thoughts.

Laughing into your muffler, you eyed the approaching creature warily. “It’s an alpaca.”

“Oh!!!!” Atsumu was shaking with excitement, hand reaching out to touch it.

Very speedily – almost a quick reflex, you pulled Atsumu back at the creature spat, its slimy spit landing just inches from Atsumu’s feet.

“HEY! WHAT THE HECK!”

“Careful, they spit.” You warn, letting him go cautiously. Osamu laughs behind you.

“Ha, not even they like you,”

“’SAMU, SHUT UP!”

A caretaker, who was guiding the gentle creature, looked at the boy in shock, appalled by his language and tone. You had to bow in apology for Atsumu, prompting him to quiet as the three of you continued to roam the outside area of the zoo.

Passing the kangaroo farm, just across it was the penguin walk, where you could hear your schoolmates cooing at the sight of waddling flightless birds.

A collective gasp once the birds appeared, followed by cooing of the girls, some of the boys were clapping their hands to get their attention. Sure, they were cute. But not even that could ease your unease.

“Are you okay, (Y/N)?” Osamu turns to you, seemingly having enough of flightless birds.

“Yeah,” Atsumu rounds you, honey-brown eyes watching. “you barely said a thing since we came here!”

Feeling bad about your lack of response, you could only bow your head in shame. Muttering an apology under your breath, nose digging into your muffler. Cold winds blew in, winter must be approaching.

“Are you hungry?” Osamu asks.

“Do you want to take a dump?” Atsumu asks next.

Shaking your head, head still hung low. They both glance at each other, then to you.

Fiddling with your gloved hands, you wondered if the twins would leave you then and there. Eyes staring down on the concrete ground, focusing on the material that came to view.

You shouldn't have come.

At first, there was a hand – two hands, holding your own. Then a tug.

Suddenly, you weren’t seeing animals on display, allowing yourself to be whisked away.

Veering northeast from where you were.

“Where are we-“

And then, there was a burst of color in different shapes and sizes.

Flowers.

Reading the sign, blinking, the twins brought you to the ‘Flower Garden’.

“Girls like flowers, right?” says Atsumu with a smile, Osamu smiling next to him.

Feeling a smile coming on, a gentle tugging at your heart, slowly you nodded.

“…zoos are just weird,” you say finally, walking down the path, the twins on each of your sides, matching your pace. It shouldn’t be hard, since you were inches taller than them.

“Weird how?” Osamu asks, nose wrinkling as he sniffs around.

Shrugging, you thought of your next words carefully. “Maybe I just don’t like the idea of animals in cages?”

“Well, that’s what zoos are for!” Atsumu says, almost helpfully.

“And that’s where the problem lies.” You point out, drinking in the many flowers, far as the eyes can see.

Walking along the pebbled path, several schoolmates were in the area, gushing and watching at the flowers in interest. There were even some adults, two teachers leaning towards each other, whispering and giggling. Atsumu wrinkled his nose at the sight, Osamu just walked on quietly.

Having rounded the Flower Garden, the three of you leave, your eyes looking around until your eyes fell on the bricked flowerbed by the exit. An array of flowers were on full display, but your eyes on a particular flower. Little pieces of the sun, sprouting brightly against the rest of the equally bright, blossoming, and elegantly arranged flowers. The little sun was peeking up, proud and tall.

Osamu was busy watching some butterfly while Atsumu turned to you, curiously following after your gaze.

Out of nowhere, a bark sounded off. From the corner of her eye - where you vaguely read a sign that said 'Dog Stage' a blur of white and a bright pink tongue came rushing your way.

Quickly, you hid behind the boys, holding on to Atsumu's shirt. Osamu turned to you in shock, then at the dog, a smile spreading across his face. "Hey, a dog!"

Laughing, the caretaker approached you three. "He's just excited to meet you lot!" Kneeling, he gently ruffles the dog's head. "Why don't you come say 'hi'?"

White in color with splotches of brown littering his face and body, the dog had an oddly-shaped head, almost shaped like an inverted egg, its triangular brown eyes were bright.

Furiously shaking your head, a yelp left your mouth when the dog broke away from Osamu, walking up to you. Despite its obvious friendliness, the dog was half your size. Seeing your fear, Atsumu puffs his chest, holding his guard against the sweet boy.

"Sorry mister," Looking down at the gentle creature, Atsumu then pats the dog. "doggy, but (Y/N)-chan here isn't up for it."

His reply was a bark, causing you to yelp again.

"Okay then, guess we'll have to go now." Pushing himself to stand, the caretaker whistles for the dog. "Come on, Bowser."

From behind Atsumu shoulder, still holding on to his shirt, you watched the dog happily wagging its tail as it walked behind its caretaker, leaving adoring glances from everyone on the path.

The two brothers exchanged glances.

"Well, looks like you don't want to meet our granny's dog, huh?"

When it was time to leave, everyone settled in the bus. With a total of four classes, two classes had to share a bus, meaning, to your luck, you and the twins sat together.

"Atsumu," you berate at the boy, rushing towards your seat. "where have you been?"

Osamu, who was sitting by the window, was forced out by Atsumu, who sat on top of him, wiggling until he moved in disgust.

"You'll see!" he grins ear to ear, excitedly clutching on to his backpack. Noting his dirtied nails, Osamu frowns and mutters something under his breath.

"Okay, everyone here?" Your teacher asked, his response was a chorus of 'yes'. Nodding, he turns to the driver, and the bus slowly careened off the road.

Once the bus was miles away, instantly, Atsumu perked up and turned to you. “(Y/N)-chan, I have something for you!”

Ducking down low, very carefully, he zipped open his bag, produced a paper bag, which was covered in dirt for some reason.

Bright yellow, as though the sun's rays solidified itself, came to view. The very sun shrank to the size of a child's hand, sprouting out from the same child's bag as though in greeting. Mouth parting, you stared at the flower before you.

“Ta-dah! I got you a sunflower!”

“’Tsumu," Osamu frowns, hating that he was in the middle. "that’s stealing, ya know.”

Swiping the underside of his nose, you saw dirt under his fingernails. “They’ll never know!” he says rather proudly. "And hey, (Y/N), did you know?" he scuttles closer, voice low. "When it rains, and the sun's gone, sunflowers face each other to harness each other's energy?" He puffs his chest out, all smug. "Pretty cool, huh?"

You took a moment to appreciate the tiny sun in his bag, that he got. For you. Registering Atsumu's words, it was kind of endearing, and he looked really proud of the information he shared.

However, "That's a misconception." You tell him, he guffaws, Osamu cackles between the both of you.

Fingering the smooth yellow petal, seeing the dirt cumulate in his bag, which will probably earn an earful from his mom, the fact that he did this for you was enough. Smiling, you tell him, “Thank you so much, Atsumu.”

(Atsumu swore, your smile rivaled the sunflower he got for you.)

Hiroshima was surprisingly calm.

Proclaimed early on as the 'City of Peace' postwar, the city was only fours hour away by bus, the prefecture was known majorly for being one of the first to suffer the nuclear attack from the first world war that devastated the island. And yet, it feels peaceful, calm.

Like all the years ago, those past sins, have all but wavered into the wind, forgiving the many generations to come.

A strange sense of calm washed over you, gazing at the structure before you, feeling for the victims - direct and indirect victims of the bombing. Even the very ground you stood on, was once covered in casualties unimaginable today, a traumatic experience impossible to dismiss. Truly, after the war comes peace. But that peace comes with sacrifice, bloodshed, and tears.

"(L/N)-san?" a voice calls, cutting you of your stupor. Turning, you met Kusakabe's kind face. "Are you okay? I've been calling your name for a while now."

Feeling your hand holding on to the itinerary plan, your other hand on the railing, hearing students murmur all around you brought you back - you were having a class excursion. In Hiroshima. For three days.

"Um," putting the booklet down, you gave a weak nod. "yes. Yes, I am. Sorry. I was just" you peek back at the monument. "awe, for lack of a better word."

He smiles, pushing his glasses back. "I understand what you mean. Coming to these monuments just makes you appreciate the history behind it."

You nod again, looking at the map - it would be a long walk, considering the park's grand area and the monuments you'll visit along the way.

"Anyway, I just came to inform you that we can roam around the park for an hour. Then we'll meet up by the parking area for lunch."

"I see. Thank you so much, Kusakabe."

He nods, smiling.

"Kusakabe!" from behind him, a group calls, waving.

Turning to you, Kusakabe asks. "And ow about you, (L/N)? Do you have a group?" the wind blows, you wrinkle your nose at the cold. "If you want, you can join us."

Before you could even reply, someone walks up to you - well, four someones that is.

"...That's why I told you, if we strike that bell hard enough, it could probably echo throughout the park!"

"Idiot, you want to ruin the sanctity of the bell? It's called 'Peace Park' for a reason!"

"Woah," Suna deadpans, eyes on his phone. "'sanctity', that's a big word, even for you, Osamu."

"Now, now, let's just enjoy the trip, yeah?" Ginjima, ever the peacemaker, tries to settle things, smiling apologetically when he meets your eyes.

Heaving a sigh, wearing a smile on, you gestured to the boys with an open hand. "As you can see, I have a group of my own."

Nodding at the trouble children, Kusakabe breathes a laugh. "I can see that. Well, I'll see you around, (L/N)."

Osamu asks, watching said boy meet up with his group. "Wasn't that the student council prez?"

"That is him."

The rest of the boys watch Kusakabe approach his group in joint interest, especially from the way they move - all good posture and all, neatly pressed uniform, not a hair out of place, all of them were pretty as a picture.

"Elites, huh?"

You rolled your eyes at Suna's words. "Just because Kusakabe and I belong in a college preparatory class does not mean we're elites."

"Well, your class does give off some sort of vibe," Ginjima explains helpfully.

That was a strange way of putting it, you thought. After all, you've been classmates with them all of three years, with the occasional new classmate last year. Other than that, it was just like any other class, filled with different personalities on different faces, except everyone in your class was outstanding students with equally outstanding grades.

Cold wind gushed, (h/c) strands of hair flying in your face.

"It's gotten cold, huh?"

"We're just a week off nationals and we're greeted by cold," Suna mutters.

"At least it's not hot anymore," Osamu grumbles, remembering the unforgiving summer that passed.

Busily working on your hair, your muffler ended up loosening to the sides in the process. Letting out a sigh, you undid your muffle, ready to fix it when large hands took the ends of your muffler.

"Not to mention the culture festival next month!" Atsumu gushes excitedly, making quick work on your muffler. Next month, being November. Time sure flies when you least expect it.

"Oi, 'Tsumu, step away from (Y/N)," says Osamu, walking towards you both. "you might end up choking her."

"Will not!" he yells, yet his hands carefully folding around your neck, tying in front. "I know how to fix a scarf, idiot!"

Wincing slightly at the volume of his voice, you suddenly found yourself unable to look away, frozen in your spot, watching Atsumu busy himself on fixing your muffler.

"On your own, maybe."

"U-Uh, guys...?" Ginjima fumbled, Suna just watching in veiled interest.

Doing some finishing touches, ever so gently looping and pulling the ends, Atsumu nods, clearly pleased, before he steps back to admire his finished work. "There, see!"

Osamu steps in, eyes on Atsumu's work, face neutral, eyes laughing. "Sloppy."

"HAH!?"

Glancing down at Atsumu's work, it was a bit sloppy, but it seemed to hold up just right.

"You should be ashamed, now (Y/N) will lose face."

"From a fucking scarf!?"

"You've ruined her, idiot."

"You're ruined!"

Exhaling, you just walk ahead letting them argue amongst themselves. Ginjima and Suna were quick to follow after you.

"Um, should we-"

"You've been with them for three years now, Ginjima. They'll be fine. They'll just follow after." Suna nods at your words, randomly taking photos of the area.

For the next few minutes, relative calm washed over your group walking along the path, watching ancient buildings. What's left of it, a skeletal piece with absent windows, floors, or life, covered in scars from years past. Each of the boys carefully regarding each monument in awed whispers.

Although, time to time, someone would comment about how creepy it was to be up close to it, then would be called disrespectful by someone. You'd only have to turn and then they'd be silenced. Every now and then, you'd write down about the monuments on a small notepad, so you could use it later for your essay after the trip.

Furiously writing, a vibration went off in your coat pocket. Putting your notepad away, you flipped your phone open to read the text.

"Who're you texting, (Y/N)?" Osamu asked beside you.

"Aran-san."

“Eh? What about Aran-kun?” Atsumu asked, suddenly appearing by your shoulder. Suna and Ginjima looked up, at the mention of the senior.

“Well, he tried out for Tachibana Red Falcons a few weeks ago." You tell them, seeing no harm in it. Hitting send, you waited until the confirmation popped up before pocketing your phone away. "He’s going to get a call of his results sometime this week.”

Nearly all of them raised their eyes in shock, amazed by the news. It was the same reaction you had when he told you.

"Hear that, 'Samu?" Atsumu laughs at his twin, pride and unbridled happiness. "Aran-kun!"

"I heard, idiot." Not even Osamu can hide his joy and pride, like that of his twins', over the news.

"It's nice that you've still kept contact with Ojiro-san and the others." Ginjima noted with a smile.

Suna, appearing beside you, gently guided you towards the next destination as your group converged with some tourists, some girls giggling at Suna. "It's so you to keep in contacts with the seniors,"

"Because I respect them?" Burying your nose into your muffler, at the chilly wind that blew past.

"Because you fit right in with them."

Reaching the Peace Bell, just at the heart of the park, you were told that you can ring a bell and make a wish.

"Normally people wish for world peace here," Ginjima says aloud, reading from the booklet.

"Maybe we should wish for Ojiro-san?"

"I believe we can do that."

So you rang the bell, a soft gong echoing out, clapped your hands twice, palms pressing together, then lowered your head. Offering a quick prayer. For Aran-san. For Kita-san. For Akagi-san. For Oomimi-san. For Reiki. For Mika.

Following after you were the Ginjima, then Suna, and then finally, the twins, which you had to stay and watch over, lest they try to really smash the bell so loud it'll echo throughout the park. Thankfully, they behaved under your watch.

Later, while having lunch at a nearby restaurant, your phone vibrated.

“Ah.”

“What is it?”

The four boys turned to you - Osamu sneakily taking a meatball from Atsumu's bowl, Suna was putting mushrooms and carrots into a small plate, Ginjima was blowing into his bowl.

“He got in.”

At first, there was silence. Then, you ever so calmly turned your phone in your hands, showing Aran's text, for further confirmation. And then, the trouble children burst out in joy - all hoots and cheers, happy for their senior, uncaring at the spectacle that they've caused. And Suna caught it all on camera.

(Aran cried when he received the video)

“Something’s different about you,” Atsumu says to you. You blinked twice, surprised.

“…I’m wearing my winter uniform?” You say, almost consciously, gesturing to the blazer you now donned on your uniform, contrasting the summer uniform, which was just a shirt, a sweater, a skirt, and shorter socks. School-issued brown blazer shirt, shirt, maroon tie, black skirt. Your socks were knee-length because of the seasonal change.

Even with the culture festival going about, students were encouraged to wear their uniforms - well, students of Inarizaki High School that is.

With October long past, students were all to wear their winter uniforms to anticipate the cold weather ahead.

In spite of the season dropping a few degrees though, the culture festival at your school rolls easily. The school was filled to the brim with life coming from its students, visitors from different schools, and supporting families.

Yet for some reason, amidst the fanfare going around, Atsumu keyed on you.

Something was shining, hitting Atsumu in the eye.

“Wait a minute,” Atsumu closed in, too close for comfort, tucking bangs and some strands of hair behind your ear. “You got a piercing!”

There was a stud by the inside of your right ear cartilage, just by the inner middle rim.

Suna whistles. “Wow, never thought you had it in you, (L/N).”

“Uwah, it looks cool, but does it hurt?”

“More importantly, when did you get it done?” Osamu asks with a frown.

Atsumu’s thumb was tracing along the shape of your ear, staring at your conch piercing in fascination, standing way too close. Gulping you took a step back, fixing your bangs as you explained. “I, uh, did this on a whim. And yes, it did hurt, because it was on my cartilage, but nothing I can't handle.”

The four look at you, eyes wide.

It kind of ruins the image of the perfect role model people has cooked you up to be. Then again, you were never perfect, to begin with, it was nice to ruin that image and shatter people's expectations.

“Woah.” Ginjima's eyes shined at the stud on your ear.

“Badass,” muttered Suna.

"When did you get so rebellious?" Osamu teased, as though reading your thoughts, pinching your nose with his knuckles.

Atsumu couldn't look away at the new addition in your body. "But when did you-"

"(L/N)-senpai!" a voice cheerily called you from behind, green from the torso up - green wig, green coat, ruffled white undershirt, black pants, with black shoes. Oh, and there was some sort of contraption strapped on their arm.

Atsumu stared in confusion as the person happily greeted you, holding your hands and full of smiles, he just about to burst when Osamu elbowed him.

"It's Yoshimichi," Suna explained, admiring the costume. "y'know, one of the kits."

"Or the managers-in-training," Ginjima added, enjoying the interaction between you and the younger girl.

"Yoshimichi!" you greeted, taking her in. "Wow, you look amazing!"

The younger girl flushed, her usual dark brown eyes were replaced with light blues - contacts, it seems, gripping your hands tighter. "Thank you so much! I worked hard on it! But senpai, your hair looks great!"

"Ah, thank you," you say with a faint blush. "Asano worked on it." More like, she worked on them while you busily sat on your booth, studying the papers from all the attendees who came to the volleyball club's gig. Asano took advantage of your preoccupation to work on your hair. You couldn't hate her for it, since the style proved to be helpful from keeping your hair from your face.

"It's times like these where (L/N) can really be a girl, huh," Ginjama said.

"You're making it sound like she's not." Suna deadpans.

Sputtering, Ginjima tries to defend herself. "Y-You know what I mean!"

Atsumu sort of does, having known you all his life. You weren't the girliest girl around, but you dressed like one, but it was average at best and formal, compared to Mika, who loved wearing frills, brightly colored dresses, and all. Plus, you didn't have many female friends because you had the twins. Most of the time, you were surrounded by boys, so you had to toughen up.

"But who're you supposed to be?" Osamu couldn't help but ask.

"Lyserg from Shaman King!" Yoshimichi says excitedly.

"Your class is doing a cosplay cafe, huh?"

"Right on! Senpai, you should visit!" remembering that you weren't alone, she looked at the four boys behind you. "Ah, you senpais can come, too!"

"I feel like she's extended the invitation to (L/N), though," Suna mutters, Ginjima laughs.

From the end of the hall, someone, with an equally elaborated costume, holding a sign, calls out to her.

"Ah, that's my cue! I have to go now!" Before she leaves, she turns to you. "Senpai, I'll be waiting!"

Smiling, you wave off as she runs towards her classmate, watching them stroll down the hall.

Once the younger girl left, you turned to the boys. "Yoshimichi's family owns a tattoo and piercing shop. I had it done there." Their reactions were instantaneous - multitudes of shock.

"Yeah, but when?" Atsumu asked. He can't even fathom the idea of Yoshimichi - bright, bubbly, cosplayer Yoshimichi Ryoko to come from a family of punks!

"Um," uncharacteristically on the spot, you rubbed at your elbow. "A day after we came back from Hiroshima."

"Who would've thought that our kit comes from a ragtag fam."

"That's a rather crude way of saying it,"

"Yeah, but the flip side of getting a tattoo is you can't go to onsens,"

Ginjima hisses, eyes suddenly sad and dim. "Ah, that is sad and true."

"On the contrary, there are onsens that allow tattoos, so long as it's not visible or in an innocuous location," you say helpfully, automatically bringing backlight in Ginjima's eyes.

"(Y/N) have mercy on us with your words," Osamu cries. "the lot of us are idiots here!"

You'd expect Atsumu to retort, absolutely refusing to be called an idiot, or likening to one. But he was quiet, right by your side, smiling.

"Heh, I'm thinking of getting a piercing myself!"

Three eyes turn to him, doubtfully.

"What?"

"Everyone knows you're likely to cry getting one."

"HAH!?" And there he was. His aura was emanating warm and gentle, like his usual vibe from before. What's weird was, you were there, yet he was smile was genuine, probably brighter than everyone in school.

"(L/N)-san, are you alright?"

"Yes, why do you ask?"

"Um," Asano's eyes went from your face to the mechanical pencil in your hand. "y-your pencil lead…it’s run out." You stopped writing, or what you thought you've been doing. "For a minute now." Oh.

Pushing your pencil, seeing the lead pop out, you write again.

"Thank you, Asano."

"You're welcome," she smiles, but her lip turns up, eyes filled with worry. "But are you okay?"

"I've just got a lot on my mind."

Asano's face fell, eyes not leaving your face, noting the heavy intake of breath, followed by the sag of your shoulders. Even your eyes seemed lost, sad.

The feared and great 'Inarizaki's Fox Keeper' was known for her uptightness, her stoic and cold aura - intimidating by name, more so in person. Highly respected and feared, even the coaches held her to a high regard. With a reputation like hers, it was no wonder she was able to manage the team on her own for years, even aiding them to nationals, and holding her ground against Miya Atsumu. (L/N) (Y/N) was the perfect manager, a standard for all club managers. A reputation that definitely lived up to her expectations.

However, Asano Miki, found that you were actually just a really reliable person, extremely kind, and a saint-like patience. Under your guidance, she eventually got out of her shell - she and Yoshimichi, and easily adjusted to the club thanks to your guidance. And behind closed doors, especially during those nights at training camps, you were practical, uptight like a mother, and almost always preoccupied.

And yet, underneath it all, there was always this sort of sadness in you.

She couldn't help but think of the iceberg theory, that's there's always more to a person.

With her and Yoshimichi, you could open up more about yourself. With the rest of her seniors, you could, too. But Asano could feel like it was to a certain degree, there was something you'd like to keep within. The more she thinks about it, the more it scares her of what's underneath it all, of how long before the truth just freezes her over.

A flash of yellow appears from the corner of her eye, when she turns, it was the captain - Miya Atsumu.

Just a year ago, you and him were not on good terms, having been childhood friends for a long time. The team's dynamic changed drastically, but you remained as manager, only colder and more robotic, as the rumors say. It was said you supposedly resigned, only to wordless come back. Magically, the team's dynamic changed for the better. Even your dynamic with the now, blond-dyed, setter-captain.

"Oiiii, As-a-no~" Yoshimichi calls in a sing-song, her fellow manager-in-training nudges her shoulder. The girl turns to her. "C'mon, I'll pass the bibs to the opposite team, you fetch the cart from the storage room. Okay?"

"O-Okay!" she starts for the storage room. However, unable to help herself, she looks over her shoulder, to where you were, with the captain standing close, the two of you seem to be discussing something. You were doing the talking, pointing with your mechanical pencil, talking a mile. And then there was the captain, eyes soft and warm...watching you.

Atsumu - known for his smug smirk, likened to that of a fox, filled with general mischief and mayhem, wore a true smile. A smile that softened his features, that made him (and his twin, because they were identical) admired by many, a smile that brightened him more, one that reached his eyes - one that Asano knew was reserved for you and you alone.

Of all the things Asano knows about you, one thing is for sure: Miya Atsumu was the cause for the sadness in your eyes.

“You know, I worry about you,” Osamu says to you, echoing questions that have been thrown to you for days - mostly indirectly, at your usual convenience store over a shared sashimi set.

Something's bothering you, has been bothering you, from the looks of it. Osamu knows it.

From the dim moonlight that hung up in the sky, contrasting against all unnatural light, you blinked at him. When your eyes met, his grey-brown eyes took you out of your stupor, making you feel bare and open, without even saying anything.

“I’ve been worrying about you." Osamu adds, voice thick. "For a long time, you felt this need to put others before yourselves. Don’t get me wrong, it’s admirable and honorable at best. It's what many of us love about you, (Y/N). But," his shoulders sag, gray-brown eyes softening "if you keep putting them over you, one day, you’ll forget yourself altogether and just crush from the weight of keeping everyone first.”

You feel the need to defend yourself, to make a statement rebutting all his claims. Yet, your tongue feels heavy, mouth clamped shut. Looking up at him reluctantly, you were met by his unwavering kindness - so, so kind, and worry. Worry growing, seeing as your eyes turned glossy, neutral expression cracking.

Osamu reached an arm, pulling you over. You wanted to pull away, but his warmth washed over you.

Quietly, eventually, you leaned against Osamu, crying softly.

Strong as they were last year, it wasn't enough to satiate the hunger of your foxes, led by Atsumu, that brought them to victory. Still, Karasuno's presence was felt, establishing themselves in the national scene now that they've made a resurgence in the past year with an invaluable set of players. One of them, being your dear childhood friend.

"Sho-chan!" you called out after the match ended, seeing as you had time.

The redhead turned, eyes widening and brightening at the sight of you. "(Nickname)!"

Running to him excitedly, he did the same and the two of you met by the sides.

"Oh wow, your hair's getting shaggy!" you laugh, ruffling at his hair. "By the way, great game, today. You guys are as tenacious as always."

Noticeably, some people were looking your way - still surprised that by some twist of faith, you and the spry middle blocker were acquainted, let alone childhood friends! Too busy being in your friend's presence, you hadn't realized the attention you were receiving. Too busy catching up to the ball of sunshine before you, going on and on about the feats they did today, freely smiling about with your childhood friend.

"Inarizaki is crazy strong this year! Especially with Miya-san's serves!"

"Which Miya?" you laughed with a cock of your head.

"Oh, uh...the blonde dyed one??"

"Ah, Atsumu."

"Are you close?" Hinata asked, sensing the familiarity when you said the setter's name.

"Um," tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, you were unsure how to answer. "kind of." That seemed like a good answer. "He and his twin brother live next door and were my first few friends when I moved to Hyogo." Behind him, his captain was calling for him. "Neh, let's continue our chat later, okay?"

"A-Ah," he sputtered, short-circuiting.

"You're here until tomorrow, right? Better make it worth your while. After all, we haven't talked much in a while. Well," you take his hand in yours, squeezing. "face-to-face, that is."

At the prospect of seeing more games, and maybe spending more time with you, he brightened. "Sure thing, (Nickname)!"

Unable to help yourself, you ruffled his hair playfully. "Then, wait for my text later, okay?"

Later that day, dinner, a bath, a short meeting later, you were slipping on an oversized hoodie over your pajamas, and took off. Despite it being a rather exciting day, you still had enough energy to go about, carefully making your way to meet your childhood friend.

Meeting Hinata just a block away from your hotel, the two of you walked a few more blocks until you reached a neighborhood playground, chatting aimlessly as you sat by the railings framing the park.

"Since it's your last year of high school, do you have any plans, (Nickname)?"

"To be honest? Not really." Wrinkling your nose at your answer, you tried again. "Maybe nothing special. How about you, Sho-chan?" you ask, despite him being a second year.

To your surprise, he readily answered. "I wanna do beach volleyball!"

"Beach volleyball? Why?"

Something sets off in his eyes, almost like excitement, assurance, burning compassion. "I want to try and learn a lot of things!" It even showed off from his voice, no longer quivering, strong and firm, with a hint of childish excitement. "I want to try and get better to be able to play more volleyball!"

That was a rather interesting take into his career, choosing to play outside court. Plus, you've heard beach volleyball can be demanding with just two players.

"You're really set on it, huh?"

"Yes!"

You felt warm.

"Well, good luck with that, Sho-chan. I'll be rootin' for ya~"

Extremely, pleasantly warm, despite the January cold.

“(Nickname), you’re really a lot different, huh?” Before you could ask what he means, he furthers. “I mean, from all our texting, you seem…kinda…on hold? Like you’re holding back? But in person, you seem more relaxed now.”

You blink, remembering bright lights, head against another warm body, a shared sashimi set.

“Maybe it’s because I’m with my Sho-chan.” you smile, forcing the thoughts away. “A lot’s happened in my life. I’m not ready to unpack them all to you, but Sho-chan, you just really have a way with making people feel relaxed about themselves, of making them feel like it's okay, y'know?”

He flushes at that.

“I’m really jealous of that part of you.”

“W-Well, I’m jealous of how smart you are, (Nickname)!”

The two of you laugh into the night before you randomly blurted out wanting something sweet to eat.

"Want ice cream?" Hinata asks, gesturing to stand.

Peering out at him in the dark, the park was a bit dim, your childhood friend shined bright. "Nah, maybe I should head back."

"But you said you wanted something sweet!"

Chuckling, breath coming out in puffs, you stand. "Alright, but you're buying, okay?"

"Aren't you older?"

Playfully frowning at the younger teen’s argument - because yes, you are the older one by a year, you just link your arm around his. "Yeah, but you lost to us!" you threw back.

"How mean, (Nickname)!"

On the way, you realized how eating something cold during a cold season wasn't feasible, which made the younger boy panic. Laughingly, you assured him that it was probably because it was so cold that you wanted something sweet, for a boost of insulin or that happy feelings rush.

At the nearest convenience store the two of you could find, which was a few blocks away from your hotel, the two of you make idle chat over ice cream despite the January weather, explaining further on sweetness, boost of insulin or that happy feelings rush.

"O-Oh! I see!"

Seeing the look on his face, you guessed that the mini-biology plus chemistry lecture made his head spin. "Do you really, Sho-chan?" you tease, handing him a plastic spoon. "It's okay to say you don't."

That caused his nose to scrunch up, brows furrowing together. "I understand, (Nickname)! Sheesh, I passed biology!"

Laughing again, both of you opened up the small pack of ice cream to share. It was in salted caramel.

One bite full and comically, both of you felt warm inside, moaning in absolute delight at the sweetness and saltiness.

The conversation started anew from there with topics that flew from fun plays, his sister, Natsu, taking an interest in volleyball, your sister and her boyfriend, Kaoru and his soccer, talks of the new Karasuno captain.

"Hey, Sho-chan," you asked, watching him chew. "if we didn't move..." if her dad wasn't an asshole "...do you think...?" you mulled, thinking of all the people you've met since moving. Weakly, you leaned against the younger boy, much to his surprise.

"(Nickname)-"

"...do you think things would be different?"

Hinata falls silent at that.

Who knows what your life would have turned out had your family stayed in Miyagi, or your uncle didn't forcibly bring your mom out of her depression and move the family all the way to Hyogo? Would you be happier? Would you have turned out better? Who would you even be?

"Does it matter? What's happened, happened. And whether we like it or not, it's for the best!"

Ah, such a simple-minded sweet boy. "That's true."

"But," you push yourself off, watching him. "had (Nickname) remained, maybe I would've had a boost up with my skills! I would be at maximum level now!"

Snorting, you broke out laughing. "Maximum level!?"

It was a shared moment of nostalgia between two childhood friends over a tub of ice cream, all smiles and laughter.

...which is how Miya Atsumu found you.

"Miya-san!" came Hinata's energetic cry, you look up in shock.

"Shoyou-kun..." the setter says quietly.

Was he looking for someone, you thought, spooning a chunk into your mouth. Or maybe he was out for a late night snack?

Chewing, you didn't notice your captain walking towards you. "(Y/N), if you wanted a late night snack, you shoulda counted me in!" Huh?

Before you could react, he took your spoon and fed himself the last chunk, moaning dramatically at the burst of flavors in his mouth.

"Mi-Miya-san!" shrieked the younger boy, cheeks flushing for some reason.

"You could have gotten your own spoon, you know," you frown, grabbing the spoon from him, he whines. "Besides, you shouldn't be eating sugar before your bedtime."

"Speak for yourself, (Y/N)."

Thinning your lips, you put away the spoon. Your captain turns to the redheaded boy. "Anyway, it's getting late and we should all get back." Turning to your childhood friend, the setter asks. "Shouyo-kun, you're here until tomorrow, right?"

Recovering from whatever it was earlier, the younger boy nods. "Ah, y-yes, n-no!"

"Which is it?" you ask worriedly.

"That's cool!" without warning, he stands next to you "Be sure to watch our game, 'aight?"

"Of course!"

"We should probably head back now," you announce as you stood up, taking your trash with you. "You need a full rest of sleep. Both of you." At the last part, both athletes felt chills run down their spine.

When all three of you were at the door, Hinata assuring you that he can walk back to his hotel just fine, you suddenly remembered something and called out to your friend. "Sho-chan!” the younger boy turns to you. “Actually,” seeing you uncharacteristically sheepish, he keeps his eyes on you, waiting. “I'm on the fence with what I really want."

Offering you a smile, you feel warm all over. "That's okay, (Nickname)! You still have time!"

"We're months away from graduation," you reply, a small smirk at his crestfallen face. "but I think I'm settled."

Instantly, he recovers. "That's good to hear! Well then, good night, (Nickname), Miya-san!"

“What? What? What?” Atsumu turned to you curiously, picking up on the conversation with Hinata. “What were you two talking about?”

Burying your hands into your pocket, you debated. Osamu, Hinata, and Mika were the only people you’ve shared with, the ones you could trust with. The career form fresh in your mind.

“C’mon, (Y/N)!” he whines. “You can tell me!”

And for some reason, you opened your mouth and told him. “We were talking about future careers after high school,”

“Ah, really?” Before your third year even started, you were already thinking and dreading life after high school. “It’s strange that you don’t have a plan after high school.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean," he shrugs easily, carefully steering you to his side, his other side to the open street. "you’re so well organized and value order above anything else. Not to mention, you’re one of the smartest people in our year-“

“Just because I’m part of the top students doesn’t mean I’m guaranteed success,” you tell him, bluntly. Despite the cold, Atsumu feels even more chillier at your pointed words.

But he chips at the ice.

“Still! It makes a world of a difference because it’s you!”

You stopped at that, his words sinking in.

“It’s…me.”

“Yeah!" He continues to chip at the ice, mouth opening, as though reminding you of the most obvious thing on earth. "Plus, I’m pretty sure you’ll be fine wherever or whatever you end up choosing. I’ll be rooting for ya!”

Despite yourself, you smiled, warmed by his words. “Thanks…I kind of needed that.”

Atsumu glanced at you, the two of you carefully taking a turn. “So, what did you write in your career forms?”

“Um…nutritionist, psychologist, or probably something related to sports.”

“Wow,” he thinks back to your background, awed at how much your past impacted your future. “That’s amazing, (Y/N)!”

"Nowhere as amazing as you," you tell him, with utmost sincerity and honesty. He was, after all, a nationally recognized athlete for a high schooler. With his impressive reputation, he'll definitely go far and have the best teams at his disposal.

He barked a laugh, happily. "But of course! Sucks that 'Samu won't be with me, but I'll work for the both of us. No," he thrusts three fingers in the air as he declares "the three of us!"

For some reason, that was a moment of calm for you, filling you with the assurance you'll need. No matter how many years passed, even with his hair dyed lighter than his natural dark roots, he was still that same self-assured, cocky boy you know. You get the feeling he'll always stay like this, which you find you don't mind either way.

Much like Hinata, this boy right here, made you feel inexplicably warm. "That's surprisingly mature of you, Atsumu."

His name came out surprisingly easy. And to Atsumu, who stares at you as though he discovered a snowflake's design at a microscopic level, it was the sweetest thing he's ever heard.

Snow gently falls down, your breaths coming out in puffs, Atsumu's unable to look away.

"We should really head back to the hotel now."

"Y-Yeah!" Atsumu takes hold of your hand, much to your surprise, tugging you forward.

Inarizaki, unfortunately, made it to the top 3 after losing to Kamomedai – who, under the captaincy of Hirugami, were relentless as always – you and your team found yourself with heavy, weary hearts. There were regrets here and there, but the fact that the team maintained its spot as the top 5 made the pain of losing less. Also, you kept your promise to Aran and the rest, who were over the moon (and probably in tears) from watching in the benches.

Speaking of Aran and the rest, you had met up with the rest of your former seniors. Ever the emotional man that he was, Aran was tearing up at how proud he was of how well the team played, and how much the trio – the twins plus you, held the team up.

Being captain in his final year, with his brother as vice-captain, and you as manager, was definitely a highlight in Atsumu's high school career. Smiling at the camera, arms hooked around you and Osamu, Atsumu will forever cherish this amazing high all his life.

Now that you think about it, when did you first start liking Atsumu? What was the instance that made you fall in love with your best friend?

It's been almost ten years - 9 years, to be exact once the cherry blossoms bloom. It's been that long since you met the twins, met Atsumu, and loved him.

But for however long you loved him, a most precious feeling for your young heart, never had you expected it to be inferior in the eyes of many. You may never have said it out loud, but when Atsumu read your love letters out loud in front of the whole team - seeing the looks in their eyes, you felt so cheap. Maybe your feelings were cheap, a joke. Even after the incident, even after a new year and the new faces, that scar was still there - the unavoidable scar that lingered on the fearless, 'Inarizaki's Fox Keeper'.

If people knew the actual reason for the dispute between you and Atsumu, would people think of you differently? It never bothered you, but the knowledge of your feelings for someone as perfect, unattainable, unreachable, and out of your league?

It only made sense.

In a sense, it was like an old toy - one you loved so much as a kid, but once you've played with it too much, it gets worn out, broken, and useless, you'd have to throw it away.

The whole time you held on, foolishly you were also holding on to the possibility that maybe one day Atsumu would come to return your feelings. In a cliche way, he'd think of you as more than a friend, see you as something more, then come around to love you. Again, you were foolish.

It was wishful thinking.

Atsumu's eyes and heart were set on your perfect big sister, Mika.

And who wouldn't? She was perfect, beautiful, smart, kind - everything you're not.

You? You were boring, plain, an afterthought.

Annoyed at the person staring back at you, you childishly flicked water at it - as if it would magically dispel the ugly. Nope.

All you found was a splotchy view of you, strings of water running over.

For all your feats - or whatever people thought of you, you had one terrible weakness: you gave your heart way too easily.

Your asshole of a father was one.

He was your father, of course it was only natural to love him. Until he broke it in a million pieces.

Miya Atsumu was second.

You gave your heart to him since he took you by the hand, never getting the courage to take it back. Atsumu can do whatever he wanted with your heart, just so long as it's still with him at the end of the day.

You had to wonder though, much of your heart was left in his hands?

The human body was composed of atoms – millions and billions of them in the form of hydrogen, carbon, nitrogen, and oxygen. It also contains much smaller amounts of the other elements that are essential for life.

The human body is also composed of love. Now, compared to atoms, its amount was infinite, endless.

Atoms burn out and die each day, easily replicated the next second, but not love. Love was something that you give but never runs out.

How much was a single person capable of loving?

How much of their fill until eventually, it runs out?

You might never know.

Scientifically speaking, love was just…unexplainable.

Law of attraction or serotonin can do very little in explaining the amount and power of love.

It was infinite in quality and quantity, yet it's also finite in a way.

"Nee-san?"

Lately, you've noticed that Kaoru tends to call you 'nee-chan' behind your back. You heard it once when you were sick. Normally, he just calls you 'nee-san', Mika was 'nee-chan'. It was just an honorific, with subtle tones when using.

"What."

His brows furrow, arms folded against his chest. "Why are you lying on the floor?"

"Because of gravity," you reply, staring into nothing, maybe at the ceiling, maybe at cracks, maybe at the ceiling fan, maybe at the spaces in between composed of billions and billions of atoms. Inhaling through your nose, exhaling the same way. Some days, it was just getting harder to think...to be, to seem.

Kaoru frowns harder, always hated how cryptic your replies tend to be, whenever he was genuinely worried for you. Then his expression wipes clean into worry.

"Nee-san," you could hear the franticness in his voice. "are you crying?"

Alarmed, you didn't move to hide your eyes, lest you worry him or make it worse. Instead, you sigh and close your eyes. "No. It's just dust."

You didn't see the slight panic in Kaoru's eyes, his big (e/c) eyes on you - his big sister.

“…nee-chan?”

You hummed, not daring to open your mouth at the sudden wave of emotion.

Kaoru was silent, for a while, and then. “I love you.”

Smiling at your brother, opening (e/c) eyes met lighter (e/c) ones, saying it back. “I love you, too.”

masterlist • thirteen

#(un)loving miya atsumu #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu #miya atsumu fic #miya atsumu angst #haikyuu!!#haikyuu!! fic #haikyuu!! angst #haikyuu!! angst fic #hq #hq x reader #hq fanfic #hq angst #hq angst fic #inarizaki #countdown to the end begins

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krappykawa · 4 years

Text

ಌ i mildly like you more than like (p.1)

— in which an incessant fan girl, a kiss, and a little bit of denial makes oikawa tooru realize he might mildly like you more than like

description. you’ve been in love with oikawa tooru for longer than you can remember. having known him for the better part of nearly 11 years, you’ve come to accept that you’ll never be more than a best friend to him. but with the help of a few irritatingly persistent fangirls and a kiss that was only meant to drive them away, a tale of unrequited love might just prove to be something more.

warnings. language

word count. 4.2k

oikawa tooru x f!reader, childhood best friends to lovers, fluff, some angst

parts. 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

author’s note. i started writing this a few weeks ago and it was originally just going to be a one-shot but it got almost up to 10k words so i just decided to split it up HHSKFJ

Oikawa Tooru has perhaps one of the strongest drives when it comes to hard work.

His tenacity is a thing of nature, something that awes you time and time again, no matter how many times you’ve seen him pick himself up before. It might be one of the reasons you fell in love with him in the first place.

But despite how in-tune he is with his senses on a mental standpoint, his Achilles’ heel lies with his inability to pick up on the signs his body gives him when it's had enough. Well, he can, but he just chooses not to listen.

His first encounter with a crack in that heel came in his first-year, where you had to stand on the sidelines and watch as he fell to the ground during a game with a resounded sweep of gasps around the gym. That injury benched him for more than half the season.

It was from that point on that you and Iwaizumi decided that if Oikawa wasn’t going to take care of his own body, then it would be up to you two to make sure his head is still above water.

So it doesn’t surprise you when your phone flashes with a text message from Iwaizumi during one of your shifts at the bakery.

1 new message: iwa (´,,•ω•,,)♡

Received: can you come pick up shittykawa

“Tooru?”

A figure sits slumped against the benches in front of Aoba Johsai high, his eyes closed as he lays back. There’s something beautiful about the way that he looks almost ethereal in this relaxed state, the most relaxed you’d seen him in months. When he hears his name from your lips, he slowly blinks and sits up, the aura of relaxation falling from him.

You almost regret having said anything in the first place when he puts up his guard the moment he sees you.

“Y/N-chan!” An easy smile falls between his lips, one that could’ve easily fooled anyone else. He always was very good at portraying happiness and contentment, especially when he’d been followed everywhere by people that only really want to see Oikawa Tooru, popular ladies’ man with charm that could make your mother swoon.

But you’re one of the select few that knew him before he learned that his charm was a crucial asset in his arsenal. You knew him at his highs and his lows, so the convincing smile on his lips doesn’t convince you in the slightest. That’s because you notice the way his arms seem to sit limply in his lap and the way his eyes convey fatigue rather than joy. You also know that Iwaizumi called you here for one thing.

“Don’t Y/N-chan me. Iwa texted me.”

Oikawa’s facade seems to fall at that, replaced with a troubled expression. He brings his right hand up to wipe at his face in frustration. “Listen, I don’t know what he may have said, but he’s exaggerating. I’m fine.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. He can’t seem to meet your eyes. “Well, that’s a lie considering that you’re out here right now and not in that gym,” you say matter-of-factly.

“He physically dragged me out here!” Oikawa whines, throwing his hands in the direction of your school’s gym.

A bemused chuckle leaves your lips as you move to sit beside him on the bench. Oikawa moves his bag to give you more room to sit, but you don’t move any closer. “And when has that ever stopped you?”

Oikawa getting kicked out of practice by Iwaizumi and even on select days, by their coach, is not an unusual occurrence. Iwaizumi has forcefully dragged Oikawa out of the gym before. Each and every time, Oikawa just marched right back in, despite Iwaizumi’s rage and his coach’s warnings. Even when his extra practice hours cause detrimental effects to his knee, Oikawa never seems to back down.

It was something both you and Iwaizumi had grown used to in your years of friendship with Oikawa -- his incredibly stubborn determination to somehow work himself to the point of bad health.

That’s how you know something different has happened today, because Oikawa is sitting out here on a bench rather than arguing with Iwa about how “a few more serves won’t hurt him!” (though they most definitely do, and Oikawa never seems to learn).

You turn your head to look at him. He’s quiet now, though he still doesn’t meet your eyes. His gaze is instead focused on a dog that’s running in the park opposite the school. You know that he’s avoiding confirming your accusation.

When it doesn’t seem like he’s going to talk anytime soon, you sigh. “All I’m saying is that if you really believed that you were fine, you would be using all your blood, sweat, tears in order to find a way back into the gym. Especially since the qualifiers are coming up.” You lean back against the bench as well, letting your eyes watch the dog happily run with its tongue lolling out of its mouth. “But instead you’re here, sitting on a bench in the afternoon. And from the looks of it, you had no intention of heading home.”

He still doesn’t turn to look at you, the only indication that he even heard you is the mild tick in his jaw. You try not to think about how perfectly sculpted his side profile is.

When he finally does speak, he still avoids your accusation of his fatigue and instead asks, “Why did Iwa-chan call you here anyway? Aren’t you supposed to be working at the bakery?”

You shrug. “Business was slow. Besides, my boss likes me enough to let me go early today. He said I’d have to work overtime this weekend though.”

At that, he finally turns to look at you. In the split second that you glance at him, you catch the guilt in his gaze before he looks away again. “You shouldn’t have come. You already overwork yourself being the only decent baker besides your boss that works there.”

A smile spreads on your face, your tone teasing. “Oikawa Tooru wants to talk to me about overworking myself?”

“I’m serious. You work too hard at that bakery for the measly amount that they pay you. Don’t think I don’t notice the way you try to cover your under eye circles with makeup.”

You feel your stomach jump, the familiar feeling causing your lips to tug upwards lightly. Tooru has been one of your best friends ever since you moved into the house across from his when you were seven years old. You hadn’t known when it happened, but you had come to school one day last year and just suddenly knew that your feelings were no longer limited to platonic when it came to the brown-haired volleyball captain. It’s in moments like these where you wonder how he hasn’t managed to figure your feelings out, considering how observant he is of everything else about you.

“Yes, well I’m sorry that we can’t all look like we spawn from a god like you do. It’s seriously unfair how you can still look like that when you get even less sleep than I do.”

There’s only a hint of teasing in his voice when he says, “You think I look that handsome?” He turns to face you again, and this time there’s a blink of surprise lurking in his chestnut eyes. Especially now, with the sun casting golden glows on his hair and skin, he looks beautiful to you.

Painfully, it reminds you about how unrequited your feelings are. Not that Oikawa has ever outright rejected you or even acknowledged knowing anything of your feelings, but him reciprocating your feelings didn’t even cross your mind as a possibility most days. Not with the group of girls that are always vying for his attention; not when his ex-girlfriend was what everyone thought was his perfect match; not when he hadn’t even attempted a committed relationship since Yua-san broke up with him all those months ago.

“Y/N?” His voice drags you out of your train of thought. You realize that you had been staring at him this entire time.

You play off your thoughts with a roll of your eyes and turn your head back towards the park. “No,” you lie. “I just hear comments like that from your fan club all the time.”

He nods lightly, his eyebrows creasing. “Right. Right, of course.” You’re about to ask about the odd tone in his voice when he speaks again. “You never did answer my question. Why did Iwa-chan send you here?”

“He wanted me to make sure that you actually went home instead of finding somewhere else to practice,” you say. A chuckle escapes your lips. You’re happy for the change in topic.

“I am not that hard-headed!” You raise a brow at him. He pouts. “Fine. Maybe a little.”

“A little?”

“Oh come on, Y/N. Now you’re just being mean!”

“Yeah well, it’s payback. You’re a real pain in the ass.”

“In your ass, I hope.”

You try to keep the blush from your cheeks as your mind takes you in a completely different direction. Suddenly, the space between you two seems too small. “You might want to rethink what you just said.” You try not to stare at his mouth as it falls open, your mind still invading your thoughts with images that you should not be fantasizing about when he’s sitting right beside you.

“Wait.” Oikawa’s eyes go so comically wide that you almost forget your own embarrassment. “Jeez, that did not come out in the right way. Not right at all.” For what seems like the millionth time, he looks away from you, though this time it seems to be out of his own mortification over what he just said. There seems to be a blush to his cheeks, but you very well might have just imagined it.

You let out a laugh, your arms coming up to clutch at your side. “I cannot believe that you’re supposed to be the big hotshot volleyball player that every girl has a crush on. There is not a charming bone in your body. I refuse to believe it.”

Oikawa lets out a small chuckle. “I don’t have to charm you when you already love even the uncharming parts of me. But if anyone asks, I am completely perfect. There are no uncharming parts to Oikawa Tooru. Don’t you dare spread false rumors, Y/N-chan!”

An amused snort leaves you at his last three sentences, but you decide to respond on the first part of his words. “Me? Loving you? Very unlikely.” You tease, trying your hardest to keep a straight face when Oikawa begins to pout.

“If you don’t love me after all these years I will actually start crying right now and then those girls that follow me everywhere will come for your blood for making me cry.”

You chuckle again, catching yourself before you roll your eyes again. Next to you, Oikawa has his arms crossed with a convincing pout sitting on his lips that makes him look like a child. You smile despite yourself. “Okay, okay keep the dramatics to a minimum.”

“Then say it.”

“Say what?

“Say that you love me.”

You feel a small pang as you plaster a smile on your face. “I mildly like you more than like,” you say, not really sure if you’d be able to say those three words to him at this point in time. Not when you know that they’re true.

Oikawa’s pout deepens, but you’re adamant on not saying more.

“That’s all you’re getting from me, Crappykawa.” Suddenly you find yourself amused at the way you managed to sound exactly like Iwaizumi. It hadn’t occurred to you that you’d spent so much time with him.

“Call me pretty and I’ll drop it.”

“You’re so needy sometimes, you know that?”

“Very much aware, Y/N-chan. As if you and Iwa-chan would ever let me forget.”

An eye roll comes easy to you and this time you don’t try to stop it. At this point, an eye roll is almost like a natural reaction to anything Oikawa says. “Fine. I’ll admit you’re not bad too look at.”

“Not great, but I’ll take it,” he concludes. “I can slowly feel the crack in my ego being restored.”

“If you want to be complimented please go seek out the never-ending stream of girls and guys that come your way hoping for even an ounce of your attention.” You hope that he doesn’t notice the mild bitterness in your voice. “I’m almost positive that they’ll be willing to tell you just how pretty you are and how everyone in the world should be in love with you.”

“They should be, shouldn’t they?” Oikawa bemuses.

A laugh leaves your lips despite your efforts. “You are insufferable sometimes. I don’t understand why I’ve kept you around for so long.”

“There you go with the insults again,” he tskes. “Have you and Iwa-chan been spending time together without me?”

“Iwa and I are friends you know?”

“Yeah but you’re supposed to be my best friend,” he pouts.

“You already said that line to Iwaizumi yesterday when he opted to carry me instead of you.”

“Yeah, well … I met you before he did!”

“Because you threw a volleyball at my head!”

“It was an accident!”

Laugher spills from both of your lips at the memory. It isn’t until Oikawa’s hair brushes upon your shoulder during his laughter that you realize that the space between you and Oikawa had increasingly gotten smaller. He’s so close that your thighs are only centimeters apart.

As your laughter dies down, Oikawa’s bubbly personality begins to slip once more and the fatigue on his face becomes more evident. Eventually, he rests his head on your shoulder. You feel your stomach flutter pleasantly at his proximity. Even now, you can smell the cologne he regularly wears, the one you helped pick out back in first-year that he’s worn ever since.

Once the silence lasts for a few moments, you finally attempt to ask him about practice once more. “Are you finally going to tell me why you didn’t fight back when Iwa threw you out of practice?”

He sighs. “I guess you can say that I’m a little bit tired. Plus my knee hurts like all hell has reigned down.” His voice is so much different from just moments before that it’s hard to believe that they come from the same person.

“You’re exhausted,” you say. It’s not a question, but more of a definite statement.

“More or less,” he responds quietly.

This time, it’s you that sighs. “Just … be careful. I get that you want to beat everyone and go to Nationals, but you’re no good to your team if you fuck your knee up so badly that you can’t play.”

“This year is our last chance,” he mumbles. “I just don’t want to look back later and wish that maybe I’d practiced just a little more.”

“You can’t beat anyone if you’re sitting on the bench from an injury that you got from overworking yourself.”

Oikawa winces at the tone in your voice. You almost feel guilty. Almost.

“You’re going to work yourself to death. Iwaizumi and I aren’t just going to stand by and watch you dig your own grave,” you say softly. “For his sake, at least. Don’t push yourself too hard.”

“I’ll try,” he says. For some reason, you believe him.

The two of you sit there in silence once more, the wind blowing lightly on your hair and the sounds of a busy town echoing around you. You wish that you could bottle this moment up and keep it with you forever, even if it’s only a testament to how much Oikawa values you as a best friend and nothing more.

The thought makes your stomach drop in the slightest bit. It’s usually easy to contain your depth of feelings for Oikawa when the air around you two is lively and joking, but you’ve found over the years that quiet moments like these are the ones that really tear at your heart.

He’ll never know the extent of your feelings for him, and you’re too afraid to wonder what would happen if he did know.

Oikawa turns his head only slightly to look up at you while still continuing to lean on your shoulder. “You okay?”

You give an almost imperceptible nod. “We should head home. I don’t know what Iwaizumi might do to you if he finds you out here after practice ends,” you say.

Oikawa nods and detaches his head from your shoulder.

The two of you have only walked a couple of meters when you hear a group of girls squeal from not too far away. Oikawa tenses from beside you.

“Your fanclub found you,” you say.

“I’m aware.”

He doesn’t make any move to look back at them or stop. Instead, his pace seems to speed up.

You furrow a brow. “You don’t want to talk to them? Thought you loved their attention?”

“Ouch. You really know how to wound a man, Y/N-chan,” he says with a small smile on his lips. You take notice of the weariness in his features. “But while I do enjoy them feeding my very justified ego, I am far too fatigued to deal with them.”

You nod and continue to walk beside him. The less interactions he has with his fan club, the better your mood will be. Besides, you weren’t going to fail Iwaizumi by not doing the one thing he asked you to do and not take Oikawa home.

A giggle reaches your ears once more, and you sneak a glance behind you. The girls are talking amongst themselves, but still obviously walking in the direction you’re headed in.

“Well, what do you wanna do? Cause they’re coming.”

Oikawa sighs and you notice a tick of irritation in his clenched jaw. You can see a million thoughts going through his mind, but before you can ask him about them, he reaches out to grab your hand.

“Is this okay? I’m just hoping that they’ll leave me alone if they think that you and I … uhm.”

Oikawa’s hands are long and calloused, but they feel nice as his fingers intertwine with your smaller ones. You try hard not to let the little gesture get to you. “Yeah … yeah of course.”

The two of you fall into silence again, mostly due to his fatigue and your inability to form coherent words that don’t have to do with his hand in yours. You’ve held hands with Oikawa before, but it was never with the intent to make you two look like a couple. You wish more than anything that he would break the silence before you blurt out something that you don’t want to.

Your wishes are answered when Oikawa asks, “They’re still following us, aren’t they?” Oikawa still doesn’t look back as he says it.

In your short reverie you had forgotten about the girls behind you. You sneak another glance at them and find that Oikawa’s assumption is correct.

“Yeah, they are.”

Oikawa makes an incoherent noise. “Y/N-chan, could you be a dear and describe what they look like? I have a feeling I know who exactly they are.”

You turn back again, and really take a good look at them. They’re pretty. Really pretty, you think. You wonder for a second what they could’ve done to make Oikawa so adamant on not speaking with them.

“There’s three girls. One with cropped red hair, one with long blonde hair, and one with brown hair in a high ponytail.”

“Oh, it’s them again. I don’t know what to do to get them to leave me alone at this point,” he sighs.

“Who are they? What’s going on?”

His grip on your hand tightens. “Ichika-san and her friends. She sent me a love letter about a month ago. I tried to let her down easily, but it seems that she has yet to give up.”

“This girl is your stalker?”

“Not quite. At least, I hope not.”

The noise from behind you two gets increasingly louder. A giggle echoes on the mildly empty street and you catch Oikawa’s name being whispered between their conversations. Now that you’ve found out about what they’ve been putting him through, your annoyance spikes.

“Not to sound paranoid or anything, but I’m not keen on these girls finding out where you live.”

Oikawa is quiet for a moment, his brows furrowed in indecision. It seems that he makes up his mind when he turns his head to look at you. “Kiss me.”

Your step momentarily falters.

“What?”

He shakes your intertwined hands. “We’re already holding hands. They might get the memo if we …”

“Oh.”

“I .. I mean only if you want to. You don’t have to. I just figured that .. nevermind. It’s a spotty plan. They might still not leave us alone and --”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll do it.” You weren’t going to pass up a chance at kissing him, even if it’s only for a diversion. This doesn’t seem like such a bad idea anyways — you’d long since given up on him reciprocating your feelings, and this way you can kiss him while saving yourself from the possible embarrassment of rejection.

“You will?”

“Where’s the harm? It’s just a kiss right?” You can barely hear yourself talking over the beating of your heart. “Besides, it could work.”

Oikawa shoots you a grateful smile. “Okay. Whenever you’re ready then.”

You try to shake out your nerves and instead focus your time in looking at your surroundings. The sound of giggling is still in close range when you spot a tree nearby. It’s still pretty out in the open, but not so much that you and Oikawa might draw stares, at least not from anyone that isn’t a part of the group of girls behind you.

Gathering enough courage to not insanely mess this up, you tug on Oikawa’s hand to drag him with you in the direction of the tree. You make sure that you’re still in the line of sight of the three girls when you snake your arms around Oikawa’s neck and pull him down.

His lips are softer than you imagined, and you’ve imagined kissing them more times than you’re willing to admit. Pleasantly, he tastes like oranges, which you don’t quite understand, considering that you can’t seem to remember him ever being fond of oranges. But then again, you can’t quite think of anything besides the feeling of his lips on yours.

Your lips move fluidly against his, soft but not entirely without passion. It takes everything in you to not kiss him with the force that you want to be kissing him with.

Hands come down to grip your waist as he pulls you closer to him, gently placing a hand on the small of your back. You run your hands through his hair and wonder to yourself why you hadn’t ever played with his hair before. If you ever make it out of this with your senses still intact, you’d make playing with his hair a part of your regular routine.

He makes a small noise against your lips when you make the mistake of pulling a little too hard on his hair. His grip on you tightens.

You don’t know how long you two stand there, lips locked with each other, but Oikawa doesn’t make any move to pull away. Instead he deepens the kiss by running his tongue against your bottom lip and pulling you even closer. You stifle a noise that threatens to come from deep in your throat. One of his hands comes up to cup your cheek and tips your head so that he can slip his tongue into your mouth. He has fantastic lips, you think.

It’s only until you feel the air in your lungs begin to dwindle that you force yourself to pull away. The kiss lasted for longer than you expected, and by the way you pant with every breath, it feels like a kiss that the rest of the world should not have been privy to.

You keep your eyes closed for a moment more, wanting to savor the moment for just a little longer. The moment you open your eyes, you’ll have to come back to the reality that this was just a one-time thing. You’ll have to come back to reality and remember that this kiss likely doesn’t mean anything to him.

Slowly you open your eyes, and find that Oikawa’s already staring at you intently. His breathing comes out staggered, and his eyes have turned a few shades darker. What used to be a soft chestnut brown looks almost close to black. In them, you notice a flicker of an odd emotion that looks too familiar, but you don’t want to hope for anything.

You slide your hands down to his chest. His hands are still planted on your back and face, touching you both gently and carefully. “Did it work?” Your voice comes out small.

He seems to wake up from his trance then, and turns to look in the direction that the girls were before. You look behind you to see one of the girls running away with her head in her hands. Her two friends follow after her in an attempt to console her.

“I think it did,” he says. And what he says after is so quiet you almost believe that you imagine hearing it. “In more ways than one.”

part two will most likely be up on thursday next week :)

#oikawa x reader #oikawa headcanons #oikawa x y/n #oikawa fluff #oikawa #oikawa tooru #oikawa tooru x reader #reader insert #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader

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