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kagiura-akira · 11 days

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my ASMR boyfriend

Rating: PG for Hirano's vocabulary

Words: 2100ish

Still a wip, so this is absolutely a placeholder title. This is likely going to be a long one-shot, so it'll be a bit before I properly post. But I wrote some stuff and wanted to share cause the kghr asmr AU has been plaguing my mind for a few days now and I had a productive write or die session this evening and I liked the sasawarano friendship interactions.

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Hirano Taiga has never been very good at thinking. Or rather, he's too good at thinking. Doesn't know how to stop. Now in his second year of high school, every possible thought plagues him late at night. What should he do about his paper due for English next week? He hasn't decided a topic yet. What is he going to write for his summer reflection homework? What would he even say? That he studied at the library all summer? It's not like he lives a particularly exciting life, despite how active his mind is.

Lying wide awake, thinking about school, life, his future, Hirano doomscrolls through his phone for probably a good hour or two before he decides he should try to get some sleep. It's just after midnight, and he has to wake up early to tutor Sasaki and Ogasawara tomorrow morning. So he lies there, tossing and turning, trying to shut off his brain, but all he can think about is everything he needs to remember to do in the morning.

Did he include everything he was supposed to in the flashcards he made for them?

Did he remember to pack his statistics notebook?

What about his summer break homework?

His mind won't shut up. Hell, he doesn't even think about the same topic for more than 30 seconds.

While he’s used to scrolling through his social media feeds endlessly, he doesn’t find anything particularly intriguing or thought provoking this time, so his mind starts to drift again. He can't concentrate on any one thing in particular, and he's not even conscious of the way he switches between apps — it’s just muscle memory. Twitter feed? Garbage. Instagram? Great for a few reels and not much more. Facebook? Nah, that’s mostly full of his relatives bickering or posting complaints about their neighbors. Without any real aim, he opens the Youtube app on his phone. Then, as he's scrolling through some random Youtube shorts, a handsome guy with brown hair and deep chocolate brown eyes to match catches his attention. He’s advertising a full length video for his channel.

"Can't sleep? Listen to this video to fall asleep instantly," the caption says, emphasis on the “instantly.” There’s a brief preview in the short, and Hirano is intrigued but hesitant. It seems kind of odd. Is this that ASMR thing he’s heard some people talk about? His classmates always referred to it like it was the most cringeworthy content in the depths of the internet, so his finger hovered over the link for a bit. Best case scenario, it’s exactly what it says it is, and Hirano falls asleep before 3 AM for the first time in weeks. Worst case scenario, it’s some weird video from a creepy dude on the internet and it doesn’t put him to sleep, but realistically, he’s not sleeping anyway, so giving it a chance seems like the right thing to do. What could possibly go wrong? Hirano doesn't know what to expect when he opens the full video, but it starts off simple enough.

"Hi, welcome back to my channel," the boy whispers into an expensive-looking microphone with a fluffy wind muff, gently cupping the side of it. "Tonight, we'll be reading the tale of Peter Rabbit by Beatrix Potter," he says. He opens an old picture book with an English title and a couple of rabbits on the cover: a mother rabbit dressed in a full-length dress and apron and a little rabbit in a blue sweater and rainboots standing next to her.

‘Guess we’re reading a children’s book tonight, then,’ Hirano thinks.

When the guy opens to the first page, the text is in English, too. Hirano wasn't expecting to listen to an English bedtime story told by a Japanese Youtuber tonight, but realistically, he hadn’t expected to end up on this side of the internet at all.

“Once upon a time, there were four little rabbits, and their names were Flopsy, Mopsy, Cotton-tail, and Peter...”

Hirano gets the jist of the story if he closes his eyes, but he has to focus hard on the audio for even a vague understanding. There are Japanese subtitles, though, so rather than struggle to follow, he reads along with the captions. He’s fluent enough in English thanks to the fact it’s compulsory at their school, but he’s unfamiliar enough that he only catches key verbs and nouns without the subtitles.

The guy’s voice is soft-spoken, yet still animated — a sweet and mellifluous timbre with a slightly low pitch, but not any lower than Hirano’s own voice. Half asleep, he thinks about how aptly titled the video is. This guy really knows his stuff. He’s probably one of those professional voice actors or something that does the recording for audio books. His voice is nice enough that he surely has to be.

"Peter never stopped running or looked behind him till he got home to the big fir-tree," he starts to round out the story. “He was so tired that he flopped down upon the nice soft sand on the floor of the rabbit-hole and shut his eyes...”

It only takes the words “shut his eyes” for Hirano’s own to close, like he’s obeying a subtle instruction.

About thirty seconds later, he closes the story book, but the video doesn’t end there. Hirano is barely clinging to consciousness as the guy talks a little bit about the book and the four little rabbits, commenting on how naughty Peter was for not listening to his mother. While the reading of the story itself was somewhat formal in presentation (likely due to it being in English and being read by a narrator whose first language is probably Japanese), the talk afterward is incredibly candid. His voice is a little bit muffled by his mask, but he keeps his face close to the microphone, so while his voice isn't crystal clear, it’s still audible.

“The moral of the story is, ‘listen to your mother if you want blackberries and bread for dinner and don’t want to be sent to bed without food,’” he laughs softly. “I was a little scared for the rabbit, myself, since his dad had an accident in the garden. And it’s too bad he lost his little coat and shoes. They were so cute.”

He leafs through the pages of the book again to show his favorite illustrations as he talks about it, analyzes it a little bit. Maybe it’s a bit much for a story written for the sole purpose of entertaining a sickly child — there shouldn’t be too many hidden metaphors or intentional symbolism — but Hirano enjoys the rambling.

"I hope you enjoyed this story. It's one of my favorites," he says, starting to close out the video. Hirano can’t see him smile behind the mask, but his eyes are expressive enough that he can read his face well enough to know he is. The corners of his eyes crinkle as he smiles sincerely. His voice is airy, like he’s mildly hypnotized by his own video. In the end, he’s just as relaxed as his viewers. Meanwhile, Hirano is somehow still awake, although just barely. He’s too fascinated by this boy and his voice.

"Good night," the brunette whispers over and over as the video gradually fades to black. And seconds later, Hirano's eyelids, heavy and tired, finally flutter closed. He drops his phone on the mattress next to his pillow, and just like that, he’s out like a lamp.

Probably the first time he'd slept more than five hours in a night, Hirano wakes up the next morning feeling more rested than he has for the last four years. He didn't have to walk too far to get to school, since he lives in the dorms, but he’s determined to leave early just in case, anyway. Not that Sasaki or Ogasawara would beat him there, but he has to get their notes and mini lectures ready.

If one didn't know better, they'd think Hirano was their teacher rather than a fellow classmate.

"Morning,” Hirano calls to Ogasawara as the latter pushes open the classroom door, dragging himself over to their desks near the window.

“Morning,” Ogasawara mumbles. “You're awfully chipper for 7 AM.”

“Guess I just slept well last night,” Hirano says. It’s just as Ogasawara says, though — he’s never been one for mornings, so to see him awake and not homicidal at such an early hour is a rarity.

"Sasaki’s on his way. Had to stop and take a piss since he didn’t roll out of bed till right before we got on the train," Ogasawara says with a yawn. "Thanks for doing this for us.”

Hirano laughs. "No problem. How long have I been helping you two now, anyway? I'm used to it."

“Yeah, I know, I owe you my life or something. Or at least, you can have Sasaki’s. I don’t want to think about what Eimi would say if I told her I sold my soul to you just pass my midterms.” Ogasawara shudders in response to a deeply buried traumatic thought resurfacing — a feeling that can only be understood by a fujoshi’s boyfriend.

Hirano pushes a stack of flashcards across the desk toward his friend, hoping it’ll keep him from going on about their latest fight. “Score above 80% and you can keep your soul,” he says, half-joking.

And when Ogasawara shuffles through the neatly printed and thoroughly organized deck of flashcards, he’s certain that he has, in fact, just made a deal with the devil.

“Let’s get to it, then.”

Later that night, as Hirano’s getting ready for bed, he opens up Youtube instead of his usual timelines. Looks up and down his suggested feed for the page of the guy he listened to last night, though he would easily find it if he would just look at the history on his phone. He’s surprisingly slow for someone with grades in the top 20 of his class — not exactly technologically savvy, despite his habit of looking through social media every night right before bedtime.

He scrolls through his feed, phone propped on his chest as it illuminates his face in the dark room. Desperate to find the channel, he searches, "bedtime rabbit story english japanese guy,” which does him no favors at all. Then, as if the algorithm gods have had enough of watching him struggle, it pops up as the first suggested video when he refreshes his suggested video feed for the 30th time that night. He makes sure to note the username, kgurbskt11. He isn’t sure how to read that, but at least he can’t forget such an oddly cryptic username.

First on the agenda: subscribe to the channel and bookmark it for later. He’d hate to have to go through all of this again next time he wants to watch his videos. Completely throwing caution to the wind, he scrolls through the videos for less than a few seconds before randomly tapping on one without looking at the title or thumbnail. He doesn’t know what he’s looking for — he just wants to hear something that’ll put him to sleep.

The random video is just a simple talking one, and rather than soft spoken, he spends much of the video whispering. The sound causes a tingling sensation to form at the back of his head, which then spreads over the rest of his scalp, and then down his spine. He jumps a little from the ticklish feeling it gives him, but once he’s used to it, he starts to unwind. The guy wasn't talking about anything spectacular, to be honest. Just the time he spends with his friends. There’s a story about his summer vacation and his younger sisters, and then a story about playing suikawari* at his family's estate with all of his extended family. He’s bubbly without being overwhelmingly energetic. A nice bit of rambling that has Hirano focused, but he isn't focused so much on the content of the story, this time, as he is on this boy's eyes.

Like last time, his eyes are expressive in a thousand different ways as he cycles through several emotions while recounting his summer vacation. The deep brown irises captivate Hirano, and soon he finds he isn't even listening or comprehending the words of the video anymore. And within 30 seconds of his eyes slowly starting to flutter closed, he’s abruptly awakened when he drops his phone on his face.

“Fuck,” he curses, rubbing his nose. When he returns his attention to the video, it’s a little easier to concentrate, but now he has to spend a little more time watching this channel now that he’s been awakened so abruptly. So he watches another video, only making it about five minutes in when he fell asleep for real (without dropping his phone on his face, this time).

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*Suikawari is a traditional Japanese game that involves splitting a watermelon with a stick while blindfolded

#hirano to kagiura #kagihira #hirano taiga #kagiura akira #hirakagi #my wips #hrkg asmr au

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honeybcj · 11 days

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omg han i have a tag now?! *explodes*

anywho..... it's the jarty anon and i've been on a roll with these + am obsessed with tattoo aus so here's a long (much more nsfw) one

masochist james and tattoo artist barty. aka james comes in at some ungodly hour of the night for his first tattoo, a sun on his left hipbone, and it's been a long day so barty is like, damn. this guys hot. james is a bit of an asshole, and barty's dwindling professionalism is taking so much because how dare this gorgeous man come in the middle of the night asking for a painful tattoo and proceed to be rude to me (it's hot). fast forward and james has unbuttoned his (very tight) pants, laying on the table and bartys starting on the edges of the outline, on the less painful sections. then b hits the bone dead on, and instead of hearing james yelp or tell him to "slow down, you dick, that hurt" like he had earlier, he moans. so barty drags the needle over the spot again, and james fucking whines and they're both so turned on. barty finishes the tattoo as quick as possible because he cannot fuck this up from being horny, and james keeps letting out little groans every now and then.

they end up fucking once james' tattoo is wrapped, right there on the bench, and keep fucking around every time james comes in for a new tattoo. they end up dating, and a year or so down the line when they both know they're in it for the long run, barty fucks james hard and then, while still inside him, tattooes his bitemark on top/around the sun james had gotten the very first day. james is in heaven, and bartys having a hard time concentrating because jesus christ james clenches every time he hits a painful spot, and bartys dick is inside his ass, so they're both hanging on by a thread and when barty finishes the tattoo they go for another two rounds before wrapping it.

um. ....anywayssssss

YES OF COURSE YOU GET YOUR OWN TAG! you’re feeding me the most exquisite jarty thoughts……and i’m severely unwell. each time that i think the last one was the best, you go and pull THIS out? i feel like my brain’s been knocked out of my skull. i simply cannot add anything to this because this, too me, is the literal gospel. i will drink it down and include it in every thought and prayer of mine. masochist james……that is hot. insanely so. and barty being a tattoo artist and taking full advantage of it? hell fucking yeah. i’ve said it before, and i’ll say it again, your brain is unmatched. i’m kissing it so hard, you have no idea. i could pick apart your brain and be the happiest person ever. whatever you’ve got cooking in there, keep up the good work. you are literally doing the lord’s work by talking about these two. i want to put them in a jar and shake them up a little bit. endearingly of course.

like barty fucking james over his station??? oh he doesn’t give two fucks because james just looks so good and he’s so arrogant that it’s pissing barty off so obviously the only way he can move on is to fuck him……….surprise bitch you can’t get off that easily. you’re stuck with him now. not that he’s complaining because that masochist inside james does something unholy to barty’s entire being.

anyway i don’t know what i did to deserve the pleasure of these stunning asks, but i’m so beyond thankful because i’m eating them up! smooching your brain some more. you’re brilliant, nonnie <3

#han’s asks #jarty anon #jarty

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notyouhuh · 2 years

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Axon Infodump about herself

DNI:

Mias World fans (you can look at my posts related to them, but please don't talk to me, Mias World is extremely triggering to me because of the fans)

If you're sensitive to topics such as suicide, self-harm, blood, and torture (these and many others will be a recurring theme)

Pro-Shippers (this INCLUDES shipping abusive or toxic ships, "fixing" abusive or toxic relationships, and/or aging up a character)

If you ship Lychael, Kyer, Bipper, or Bakudeku (The first two are probably my biggest triggers, the latter half are just plain don't)

DO interact:

People who like reading AUs or crossovers!

People who love offensive humour!

People who love sheep and bats!

People who like variant humans!

And most importantly, MADDY YES MADDY PLEASE FEED ME ATTENTION

A little about me…

I'm a young writer who has a passion for rewriting stories in their image and completely changing the plot of them into a contorted mess of comedic-psychological dramas, and especially urban fantasy.

I hate getting into conflicts, so please do not come to me with the intent of pulling you out of one. I will, however, comfort you on the flip side, just please ask first!

I am extremely passionate about the art of character writing and design; I adore customising characters as much as possible. I will edit parts about my lifestyle just to further adjust to my work, including but not limited to keeping a dream journal to remember concepts from my sleep, donning the American, UK, and Icelandic keyboards on my phone for immersive writing, writing ballads and poems for just about any occasion, and designing outfits and drinks based upon various fictional characters.

To clarify, I try to keep a healthy bond with my writing.

I do not let fiction overwhelm reality, and I take the required breaks needed. I understand these characters are not real, but allow myself to fall into their shoes in the form of roleplay and longing daydreaming. I am cautious about my passion, and keep my real life separate from another that belongs to another world, permanently divided from this one.

I also have a fascination with psychology, and the wonders of the human brain. Though I particularly am fond of the works of trauma and stress response, I also enjoy the science behind mind works and pattern-solving, as well as the limits of human intelligence and instinct.

I'm a big fan of aesthetics; sleepycore, icepunk, ocean grunge, and dark academia are a few that come to mind. I love exploring the highs and lows of childhood, as well as the depths of winter, the ocean, and the educative-sense of libraries.

My favourite palettes consist of muted colours, greys, blues, purples, browns, and lowly saturated greens. I also like pastel colours, consisting of lavender, periwinkle, olives, and baby blues.

I'm also obsessed with dreams, adoring the concept of an ethereal realm just beyond our minds that we glimpse into, every single night. I have a talent for vivid, coherent dreams, and recurring characters stationed in them every night.

My favourite animals consist of bats, sheep, African wild dogs, bearded dragons, caribou, leafy seadragons, takins, and cats of any kind. I love zoology, and have a lot of interesting animal facts at my disposal.

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dramioneasks · 3 years

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HP FESTS: DramioneFanfictionWriters (Part 4)

DFW's Deal or No Deal: Famous Shakespeare Lines, February 2021:

Short Life For A Daffodil by KrysKrossZee - T, one-shot - Hermione and Draco have a wild daughter who likes to pull up daffodils and frustrate her parents, but the duo wouldn't be without their children.

Friends Dont by Lostinthenightrain - T, one-shot - "You don’t choose who you fall for!” “No, because I sure as hell wouldn’t be standing here now would I?” Hermione mourns the loss of a relationship.

The Malfoy Mistress by ThebeMoon - M, one-shot - Unable to bear the sight of Bellatrix carving into Hermione Granger at Malfoy Manor, Draco Malfoy whisks his hated former schoolmate to safety. He should have known better.

Rules of Engagement by Art3misiA - T, one-shot - Lucius just had to be difficult about the idea of Draco and Hermione getting married. Will Draco and Hermione allow him to throw his weight around, or will they bring him to heel?

DFW's Deal or No Deal: Popular 90's TV Shows, March 2021:

The Death of Theo Nott by Lostinthenightrain - T, one-shot - “Hermione.” Her head whipped up to see the broken expression in Draco’s eyes. “He wouldn’t kill himself.”

The Night of the Rats by rennaissance_woman - not rated, one-shot - What happens when a prank war goes too far?

Perfect Harmony by Talonwillow (TalonWillow) - T, one-shot -Professor Slughorn's star Potions pupil Hermione was tired of being the ugly duckling, so she created a potion that would transform her into a beautiful swan. Everyone seemed to like the shiny new version of her... Well, except for herself and maybe one other. Would Draco Malfoy convince her that what everyone else was seeing was what he saw every day, and would Hermione finally be able to live in Perfect Harmony?

Dramione Go Star Trekking by KrysKrossZee - T, one-shot - Riker has made a pass at Hermione and she doesn't quite know how to deal with it.

Bloody Colonials by Maira - T, one-shot - Hermione Granger has had a long week, and the last thing she wants to do is leave the comfort of her home. But when her best friend asks for her help in dealing with a possible cursed object, what can she do but help? Brownies, Potion-making robe etiquette, and a cursed Nigerian mask all add up to a typical night at Hogwarts. Written for the DFW's Deal or No Deal challenge.

The Latest Teenage Drama by Art3misiA - T, one-shot - Teenagers. Gotta love em. Teenage dramas? Not so much. Draco and Hermione navigate the perils of unwanted teenage behaviour - 90s family sitcom style.

DFW's Deal or No Deal: Around the World, April 2021:

The Assignment by Art3misiA - G, one-shot - Hermione and Draco, Aurors, have been sent to Cape Town on a top secret assignment - to track down a former Death Eater.

Finding Them by KrysKrossZee - T, WIP - After not finding her parents in Austrailia, Hermione enlists Draco's help and the two make their way to Vancouver when they have a new lead.

DFW's Deal or No Deal: The Language of Flowers, May 2021:

Spilled Ink by Maira - M, one-shot - It's nearly Christmas, and things aren't great. Draco Malfoy is still on house arrest due to the Wizengamot being a bag of dicks. Hermione Granger is out of the country on a job, which means he won't see her for a few weeks. And to top it all off, Hermione has sent Draco a plant. A green, spiky plant, for no reason that he can fathom. Oh, and a spelled journal that he's now supposed to write in. Because nothing could possibly go wrong with that plan. Written for the DFW Deal or No Deal Challenge!

Forever by Art3misiA - M, one-shot - Though they may be gone, our memories of them remain forever.

The Little Things by KrysKrossZee - T, one-shot - When Hermione buys Draco a cup of coffee and leaves it on his desk, it throws Draco through a loop and he wonders what he should get her in exchange.

The Climbing Vine by rennaissance_woman - not rated, one-shot - After receiving some startling news, Draco runs out of the house. He receives some advice from a surprising source.

Changing of the Seasons by Lostinthenightrain - M, one-shot - Hermione & Draco find a local park and two unlikely faces to greet them.

DFW's Deal or No Deal: Draco's Birthday Soundtrack, June 2021:

Straight to the Heart by AdAsttra - T, one-shot - Draco's ready to tell Hermione how he feels, but Cupid has other ideas.

Stick Around by KrysKrossZee - T, one-shot - Hermione doesn't know why Draco is the only one who makes her feel safe, but she is glad that she is able to get some reprieve from her brain.

Wild and Wired by Maira - M, one-shot - Need your lovin' here beside me, Need it close enough to guide me, I've been hopin' you would find me, You're the biggest part of me. - Hermione was expecting a fun night out with her boyfriend and her friends. She was not expecting ice cubes, sick ponies, and a serenade beautiful enough to melt her heart. Written for the DFW's Deal or No Deal challenge.

Let's Get Serious (Please, for the Love of Merlin!) by Art3misiA - G, one-shot - Draco wants to get serious, but Hermione isn't so sure. Will their opposing views make or break them?

DFW's Deal or No Deal: Magical Monsters, July 2021:

There's A Zouwu In My Basement by KrysKrossZee - T, one-shot - When a creature has broken into the Malfoy Manor dungeon, Draco has to call for help.

Miseria by crochetaway - T, one-shot - Hermione tames a Dementor.

Aegis by Maira - M, one-shot - Their world is in ruins, and their only protection against creatures wanting to kill them is about to fall. They make a plan to trek across the country to Hogwarts, where others have gathered to make a new home within the castle. There, they will be safe. One problem - before they go, there's a queen to kill. Written for the DFW's Deal or No Deal Challenge.

Fear & Desire by myladymay - T, one-shot - Draco Malfoy wants to change his life. He returns to Hogwarts for Eighth Year and finds himself confronted with both his biggest fear and greatest desire, all wrapped up in a Gryffindor tie.

Innocent Monsters by itscometothis - T, 12 chapters - Draco Malfoy thought he had reasonable expectations for his mandatory Eighth Year at Hogwarts, where he would be confined to the grounds as part of his probation. Isolation, hatred, and passing his NEWTs were really all he had in mind. What he wasn't anticipating: 1) Having a small firstie latch onto him like a bloody koala 2) Said firstie adopting an erkling as if they didn’t feed on children. To protect his little nuisance, he’ll have to seek help from uncomfortable places, including the Swottiest Witch of Her Age. Joy of all joys.

Transformed by Art3misiA - T, one-shot - Draco and Charlie have a dragon to catch, and time is running out. Meanwhile, Hermione is missing, adding to Draco's woes.

DFW's Deal or No Deal: Legendary Duos, August 2021:

Three's a crowd, four's trouble by AnnaRitaLi - M, WIP - p>My sister is right. My life did change that evening. I just don't think Rosalind meant for me to steal her boyfriend, or I don't think I stole him, Draco, not precisely. You cannot steal something that doesn't want to be whisked away. That's my experience, at least, and I've stolen quite a few things over the years. So I can say this with confidence. You can't lose something you never had. But you’ll have to read it in the book, dear. While the Crown doesn’t wish for me to speak out in public, I have been silent for too long. You see, There were three of us in this marriage. And people, the press, have assumed many things over the years about Draco and me. So this book, as you’ll see, it’s my attempt to set the record straight. Yes, there were three of us in this marriage, but there were also much more going on than that. -- This is the story the Crown never wanted to get out. In other words, I bring you the x-rated version of the book ‘Diana - her true story - in her own words’.’ It’s the Dramione as Charles & Diana AU you didn't know you needed.

The Marquess and the Kitchen Girl by Art3misiA - E, 8 chapters - Draco Malfoy is the son of the most powerful Duke in Wiltshire. One day, he will be the ruler of a large duchy. Hermione Granger lives happily with her parents - that is, until tragedy strikes. Two children will become friends, and gradually discover a forbidden love that seems as if it might one day defy the odds. Alas, this is a tale of doomed lovers.

In Her Arms by KrysKrossZee - M, one-shot - Draco's worked his way up through Voldemort's ranks but it would seem that all of his work has been for nothing when Dolohov captures a new prisoner.

The Happiness I Seek by Maira - M, one-shot - To those without a soulmate, the world is devoid of colour. They say that if you are lucky enough to meet your soulmate, everything changes. The world is brighter, food is richer, and you find a love you never knew you needed. Draco Malfoy has never been lucky. Written for the DFW's Deal or No Deal challenge.

darling! by itscometothis - M, one-shot - When Draco and Hermione are invited to help demonstrate a path forward for Wizarding Britain and its reconciliation, neither really feel like they can refuse - Hermione for moral reasons and Draco for practical ones (read: Azkaban sounds bad). But they have very different ideas on how to play up this fake relationship. Written for DFW's Deal or No Deal: Legendary Duos - Kermit and Ms. Piggy. It's as ridiculous as you expect.

A Thousand Ships by floorcoaster - M, WIP - Draco Malfoy knows what he wants, and he's not afraid to reach out and take it.

Quiet My Demons by Lostinthenightrain - M, one-shot - “Unhappy, darling?” He murmured, his cigar placed on its resting dish, dashed out - a little puff of smoke rising into the air between them before disappearing. “Yes, completely.”

I Love Draco by crochetaway - G, one-shot - A few slice of life scenes with Hermione, Draco, and Scorpius ala I Love Lucy style!

DFW's Deal or No Deal: The Final Word, September 2021:

Crime & Punishment by itscometothis - T, 12 chapters - TRIAL TRANSCRIPT OF DRACO LUCIUS MALFOY DRACO LUCIUS MALFOY IS FORMALLY CHARGED WITH THE FOLLOWING: CONSPIRACY TO COMMIT MURDER AIDING AND ABETTING A MURDER USE OF UNFORGIVABLE CURSES: IMPERIUS (2 COUNTS) USE OF UNFORGIVABLE CURSES: CRUCIATUS (47 COUNTS) PARTICIPATING IN A TERRORIST ORGANIZATION -- I don’t regret hoping. I thought I might, at the beginning, do you remember? But I don’t. I regret nothing about you, my love. Eternally yours, Draco -- A story of hope, punishment, and the nature of justice told in trial transcripts, visits in an interrogation room, and letters.

Boats Against the Current by AlannaTCooper - T, one-shot - Draco Malfoy is trying to escape his past by running as far away as he can. But the past - and his nightmares - keep pulling him backwards.

By His Side by KrysKrossZee - T, one-shot - Hermione is lonely but there's at least one person who can break through her loneliness.

Trying To Live by IzzieStellar - T, one-shot - After her husband dies, Hermione can’t seem to remember how to live and her friends vow to help her.

In the Dead of Night by AdAsttra - G, one-shot - Hermione and Draco are some of the last people to leave Hogwarts under the veil of a cold, dark night.

This fest is ongoing.

#dramionefanfictionwriters #Fests/Exchanges/Challenges #dramione

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messwriting · 3 years

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Written for The Smut Pile Collab: Mafia AU | MASTERLIST HERE.

SCARRED HANDS

Iwaizumi Hajime (Older) x Female Reader

Rating: E for explicit | Don’t read this if under eighteen.

Warnings: Mafia AU related plot, including drugs. gun traffic and homicide. Violence. SERIOUS TALK ABOUT GAMBLING, ADDICTION, DEBT AND FAMILY ISSUES/FORGIVENESS. Hajime is older, about early forties while Reader is in her twenties, so: Age gap. Slow-burn (I think?). Presence of an OC named Rei in a side-ship with Mattsun. In this first part there’s no smut.

Part One | Part Two (soon) Word count: 7.5k

Note: This is my second contribution to The Smut Pile Collab, hosted by the lovelies @present-mel, @pleasantanathema and @linestrider. Thank you so much Claudia, @thisisthehardestthing, for beta-ing this and all your amazing comments who have made me scream so much i’m pretty sure my neighbors are wary for my sanity. There’s a side OC/Mattsun here that is my small gift to @mixedhell for everything she has always done for me and for being such a great beta, friend and enabler. <3

I was trying to not break this in two parts, but as it seems my brain keeps hellbent on putting more plot in this, it has become unavoidable. Uh, enjoy? This is my excuse of a fic to just love Iwaizumi at any and all given opportunity! Second part in the works but with no release date yet. <3

Iwaizumi never wanted this life.

He thinks about it while cleaning his bloody knuckles with a wet cloth, taking care to surround the parts where the skin had broken, scars over scars to the point that he practically did not know what was old and what was recent. The pain didn't bother him anymore, a constant in his life to the point that he barely registered the new injuries. That was the life of the second-in-command of the Seijoh Mafia.

He lived a poor childhood, violent teenage years. At the time, he didn’t have much choice in resorting to crime. It was easy, even; he was good with his hands, fast and built broad and strong since he was young. When his only and best friend told him he wanted to be the Boss, he’d almost laughed before seeing that familiar glint in his friend's eyes – that pure, fierce determination Oikawa had been practically born with– and, void of a dream for himself, he pledged himself to that of his only family.

“Take him to the back,” Hajime tells his trusted duo, who watched over him and the man they’ve been working for the past hour. Matsukawa nods shortly and puts out the cigarette he was smoking, still in half, on the nearest surface, before addressing the bloody man tied to a chair.

“What are you going to do now?” Hanamaki asks from the entrance threshold, not looking at him but rather to the night sky above them outside the deposit in the outskirts of the town. His joint is ending, sweet smoke blowing out and swirling up.

“I’ll tell Oikawa,” Iwaizumi says like it was obvious. “He’s gonna have to be more careful with his companies.”

Hanamaki snorts while smiling. “Not that he’ll listen.”

Hajime shrugs, throwing the blood-stained rag back without a care for where it’ll land. “That’s his problem.” Then he sighs, looking up at the smoke from Hanamaki’s joint swirling around the wind. “The mole is ours.”

Iwaizumi has a special place, if he could call it that.

He discovered the owner had died with consternation, when he went to the place at his usual time and found it, for what was probably the first time in more than a decade, closed. The diner operated until the ignoble hours of the night, which is why, since Iwaizumi was still a soldier, he used to spend the last hours of his day or the early hours of his mornings there, in what he’d call his little break in between work; his moment of calm even on the most eventful nights of his violent life.

Since he had risen the ranks rather quickly, the habit had given way to certain care with the frequency in which he visited the place, although the time had little variation and was always after two in the morning.

It was the moment when the night calmed down, the clubs and parties booming, the restaurants that opened at early hours already closed; the brave few passers-by running to their safe places on empty streets while the cars running through the streets lessened by the minute. This was the time when night-shift policemen were already tired of both the events of their shift and the long worked hours, nodding off in their cars.

The diner was on a street just a few blocks away from the heaviest area of the city, where clubs and parties continued until the bright hours of the morning; the drug traffic in these places had been feeding the old mafia veins for decades, since before Iwaizumi, and he was certain he would meet his end way before it did.

The place was small, nothing much, two big windows beyond the door showing the old, almost vintage interior, careless by the owner who never paid much attention to the decorative aspect of the place. Twenty years ago, when Iwaizumi went from being a simple associate to a soldier, just beginning his life as a man, the place was busier, almost famous - and even then the nights were always the quietest shift, the time where degenerates inherited the city.

Iwaizumi didn't know exactly what had disappointed him so much when he found out that old Lou had gone for the better. Lou wasn't even the old man’s real name - he just adopted it once the name of the diner -- Lou’s Diner -- ended up merging with his in the daily life of being the business owner. Iwaizumi was a constant presence in the place enough to know that Lou, in fact, was the name of the old man's wife, who had died young.

In fact, Iwaizumi spent the days following the discovery of the man’s passing trying to figure out where the place would end - Lou had never said anything about family, but there was always the possibility that the business had been pledged in warrant of some debt and if not, there was the bank. The old man wasn’t exactly what you’d call an exemplary business manager.

A surprise came again when Iwaizumi drove past the place during the day and for the first time in three weeks, there was movement inside the diner - and his first thought is theft.

It wouldn’t be surprising, considering both the neighborhood and the fact that with the place closed three weeks before, every thug in the street knows that everything is still there.

Iwa sighs, then makes a u-turn so he can park close to the alley on the diner’s corner. He’s surprised, but he realizes it is, in fact, not the case. Unless the young woman holding a broom and looking around as she rolls up the sleeves of a loose oversized T-shirt over normal jeans shorts were, somehow, a phenomenal smuggler.

Against his better judgment, Iwaizumi gets out of his BMW and steps carefully onto the sidewalk, checking his surroundings with practiced ease. The glass doors of the diner are wide open, sidewalk wet and leaking soapy water into the street. Iwa crosses through it with little care, pausing for a moment while the oblivious girl inside keeps brushing away.

“Hello,” Iwaizumi salutes from the wide open doors, perhaps to also let the place breathe some air after the days closed. You startle, the broom in your hand flying to the floor with a loud crash.

“Holy fuck!” you yelp, turning around with both hands in front of your body. “Are you trying to kill me, dude?”

Iwaizumi almost chuckles, the corners of his lips turning up.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” He takes his hands out of his pockets, showing them in front of his body as a sign of peace. And it isn’t like he can’t easily kill you and anyone you may have inside with just them.

“Oh god. My heart,” you murmur, clenching your shirt over your chest while sucking in a few breaths. Your eyes finally come up to his. “Sorry, I think I was just too distracted.”

Hajime nods. He isn’t a man to say sorry twice. “I was just passing by and noticed the diner open. It’s been closed for some weeks, so I was just checking.”

“Oh, sure.” Your mouth opens in a small ‘o’, and Iwaizumi is surprised at how it got his attention. Pretty lips on an even prettier face. “Yeah… I’m reopening it this week. I just need to fix some things around here.”

Iwaizumi gives you a once over. Discreetly. He leans against the doorframe, curiosity winning him over. “So, you bought it?”

“What?” you laugh, hand coming to wipe the sweat from your brow. “No. I inherited it."

Iwaizumi assumes that he was unable to hide his surprise by the way your lips move to form an amused smile.

“Ha, yes, most people have the same reaction as you.” You bend to grab the broom in the ground and Iwaizumi’s eyes tread for a second too long along the spanse of your body while you’re not looking. “Which is funny, and also tells a whole tale about the old man.”

“I suppose it does,” Iwaizumi nods once while speaking.

He looks over the place, sees the few changes being done; the paint cans on the ground, the boxes by the corner, the shelfs being replaced and the new color of the upholstered sofas. You in the middle of it all -- the new and the old.

“I’ll leave you to your cleaning, then. It’s good to know the place isn’t closing.”

Before you can say anything else, he’s already taking his leave.

You turn around to thank him but Iwaizumi is already far down the sidewalk, not sparing a glance at you once his back is turned. Your head bends sideways almost involuntary, eyes threading the expanse of his broad back, clad in a beautiful light blue social shirt, rolled sleeves over bulging forearms, with black slacks and expensive looking shoes. While you hoped you didn’t stare before, now you are free to do so and wow, that is a beautiful male specimen if you ever saw one.

Your first thought is that he didn’t belong in here -- the scenario of a beaten up street and a mildly abandoned diner, in the middle of the day on the foul part of the city. Then again, he looks rather at ease, familiarized, and it isn’t like you can know someone from just one look.

If anything, a good looking man like that always comes with a catch.

“Hey,” your friend comes through the kitchen doors, looking pretty much like you, tired and sweaty after the morning deep cleaning. “What's going on here? I heard something but I was on the phone”

“Oh,” you say, then grin mischievously at her. “A hot piece of man just passed by asking about the diner.”

“No!” your friend almost cried, lips pressing together in a pout. “See! This is why I keep being single! I never get to see any hotties from the fucking kitchen.”

“Hey, not my fault you decided to be a cook.”

Iwaizumi tells himself he’s just checking on the place he likes.

It’s out of a weird misplaced sentimentality, he reasons. He’s been going there for years after all. He’s checking out the new owner, that’s it. The young woman who somehow inherited Lou’s bar. The pretty young woman who was redecorating and cleaning the place that probably didn’t get any love for the last fifteen years. And that’s what Iwaizumi is telling himself when he crosses the city at late hours of the night because the first thing he needs to know is if you’re stupid enough to actually open the place until the ungodly hours of mornings like the old man used to.

And, sure enough, you are.

It’s past three in the morning when Iwaizumi parks on the other side of the street, but the regulars pour in like clockwork at the sight of the open diner -- old fellas, mostly, and some passersby who work at night. The whores, and the tired workers, all mingling the later it gets. Iwaizumi counts five clients, which is a busy night, and somehow he struggles to find security in your arrangement.

It’s a weird feeling to have for someone -- worry -- and for all the constant preoccupation he has going on in his life with Oikawa, he’s sure he hasn't felt that particular brand of it in some time.

For that same reason, Hajime turns around and leaves.

A week later and he’s back.

This time it’s earlier in the night, just past midnight and the diner is empty save for three regulars he knows well enough. Iwaizumi hates to admit it, but he’s curious; Matsukawa told him that the place had been closing at four and reopening at eleven, with not exactly lots of clients, but with enough patrons to not be discouraged.

But it was the fact that the man depicted the place as “nice” that got Iwaizumi interested. Mattsun is not the kind to throw empty comments like those and there was a glint in this man's eyes that made him suspicious. If a small hint of jealousy sparks on Iwa’s chest, he says it’s for the place.

He signals for Makki to turn a curve so he can get off on the other side of the street and tells him to park somewhere out of sight. He doesn’t like to have the BMW close, working as a beacon; the fact Iwa already dares to have a routine place is trouble enough.

“Bring me a coffee when you come back.” The strawberry blonde tells him while perching himself over the car window, driving off before Iwaizumi can give him a nasty stare. Iwa takes his time on the pavement directly across the diner, lighting a cigarette while moving to cross the street.

The bell that rings when he crosses the door threshold surprises him for a moment, bringing the stares of everyone inside to him. Some of the old regulars nod his way, and Iwaizumi nods in return, a stiff greeting but one they grew used to in the years of sharing the space.

You look eager, eyebrows shooting up as if you’re not expecting to see him standing in the middle of the place like that. Then, your lips turn up into a smile and Iwaizumi almost misses the sentiment behind it. It’s been far too long since someone looks this pleased into seeing him anywhere.

Well, with the exception of Oikawa. But that’s because he normally shows up to save the man’s stupid ass.

Iwaizumi walks over to his usual spot, in the back, by the window and sits on the newer looking red sofa. The scratched old table looks bright with new polishing. He notes the changes, appreciates them even: the cleaner looking designs despite the vintage diner ambience, the cream walls, the new smell of good food and well brewed coffee.

The ground is clean for the first time in a few years, the glass windows and doors looking good and there’s an overall different air around the small place. It feels good. Iwaizumi isn’t used to it. You come close to him, no uniform but jeans and a loose white shirt with a black apron tied around your middle, a coffee pot in one hand and a cup in the other.

“Hello there. Good night -- or day, depending on how your life works.” Your smile is disconcerting. You signal with your head to the coffee. “Want some coffee?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“No worries.” You pour some for him and ask if he wants milk or cream, which he doesn’t. Iwaizumi likes his coffee black. “Can I bring the menu?”

It’s on the tip of his tongue to say no. But he’s curious about what you’re doing with the place, so he nods. Again, you smile while nodding and leaving, and Iwaizumi is baffled by your disposition to be nice at this hour. The old mas was more of a fuck-it kinda person, so it’s a small whishplash to have actual service in here.

Before you leave, however, you turn back and smile at him in what Hajime can only define as playfully.

“Glad you finally decided to come in and give us a shot.” Your eyes are bright with mirth, proud of yourself for being so observant, and in the late hours of night he feels charged. “I promise you it’s not so bad.”

Oh, Hajime thinks as his face feels slightly warm, a twitch on his fingertips while he looks at your pretty face. This can’t be good.

You wait a bit. Seeing as the whole movement inside the diner changes with the small addition of one man at the corner table. You realise people haven’t sat on that table during the late nights, even when Iwaizumi had yet to even enter the place before.

So, you brace yourself with all the courage you’ve been mustering, and pretend to offer him a refill of coffee while walking over. You’ve been conjuring up theories for him since you saw him the first time, perched on the doors while you were cleaning, and it didn’t help that you kept seeing his car passing around the place for some time before he finally decided to come to the diner.

“Are you an old regular or something?” you ask while refilling his cup with hot, freshly brewed coffee. You’d lie if anyone asked if you did a whole new coffee pot just to find an opening to talk to him.

“Why do you ask?” His eyes are always so deep, the musky green color seemingly pulling you in, black irises eating you up. Your pulse quickens but you hold his eyes on yours even as your face grows warm.

“It’s just that you’re always here.” The words tumble out of your mouth quickly as you deposit the coffee pot on the table, looking at him almost eagerly. “Most of my regulars seem to know you and leave you alone. So I thought that maybe, you know, you may come here for the old times sake.”

He holds your eyes with his for a moment, then looks down to the cup of coffee while he brings it to his lips.

“I guess you could say that.”

It feels like a period. Like he isn’t much for small talk, so you pat the apron in front of you, pick up the coffee pot from the table and nod while looking back to the counter to mask your disappointment with such a short conversation.

“Hmm, got’cha.”

“So, the old man was your father?” His voice picks up a tone higher and you turn with big eyes to him. He looks quiet, observant while he looks up at you and somehow, without nothing to hold on, you decide you want to talk to him some more.

“No, I never knew my dad. The stupid man was my grandpa.”

“Hm,” Iwaizumi nods, his eyes still on you. For some reason you can’t stand the silence, so you keep talking.

“He’d left the business for me and if I'm honest things were not going great where I was so,” you shrug. “I thought about giving this a shot.”

“And your mom?” His eyes on yours make you feel pressured and also lacking, your mouth working before your mind can really think. “She’s been dead since I was a kid.”

He blinks, surprised, and when he speaks he sounds so genuine you smile, “sorry to hear that.”

“No problem. It’s life, right?” you ask rhetorically, an unwavering smile on your face and bright eyes despite the forlorn subject. Hajime’s chest does something weird at the sight, eyes moving down to the coffee mug by his hands.

Is it? Hajime doesn’t know. But he also hasn't had parents or any kind of family besides Oikawa and the trouble duo, so he nods, murmuring agreement. You leave him alone for the rest of the night, but not without getting his name and introducing yourself; and you do it mostly because you’re still unsure about the man. He’s quiet, mostly keeps to himself while drinking his coffee and sometimes ordering something he never finishes, but other than that, he doesn’t do much. Which, despite that, doesn’t change the fact he sticks out like a sore thumb in the middle of the place.

His clothes are expensive even if they’re simple; his watch and rings glints under the diner lights, catching attention; and his eyes are like two black gunbarrels pointed straight at you in a face with a jawline sharp enough to cut.

He makes you feel slightly unnerved and a whole lot interested.

Hajime wonders, as he exits the dinner and walks the short distance to where Makki has parked the car, if he has enough reasons to be worried about you. He enters the back of the expensive black BMW, gives the annoying blonde his promised coffee and nods so he can start driving. Iwaizumi settles on the backseat and turns to look at Hanamaki, eyeing him through the rearview mirror.

“Makki.”

“Yes, Boss.” The answer comes immediately.

“Is this place in anyone's rotation?” Makki’s eyes thread to the mirror to look Hajime back.

“Old Lou’s dinner?”

“Yes.”

Makki’s brows furrow in thought while he seems to think it over. “I’m not sure, but I don’t think so.” His eyes lock on Hajime’s figure through the rearview mirror and Iwa counts the seconds until he asks, since his curiosity always wins. ”Why?”

“Check it for me.” It’s the end of conversation, and Makki knows. He nods.

“‘kay, Iwa.”

Iwaizumi’s thoughts are brewing, his brows furrowing deeply while he thinks over the whole exchange from earlier.

In a short conversation of a few minutes, you already unsuspectingly told him that you had no family left, no one to miss you if you’re gone. From that he can infer the easy things -- that you probably live alone, seeing as he’s never seen a boyfriend in the restaurant or calling you while you’re working the counter; that you must either live in your grandpa’s house or a small apartment if you’re trying to make more money by renting the old man’s place; that you probably leave alone after closing the dinner -- and he got all that by an easy small talk over coffee.

Iwa’s lips turn sour while he turns to watch over the streets late at night, the dangerous things that lie in the dark. He ignores that he, himself, is one of them.

Yes, maybe he should check on you.

Iwaizumi observes with a frown while Oikawa waltzes inside his penthouse with his new friend. The woman is, much like all of Oikawa’s partners, beautiful. Luxurious hair and curves, all wrapped in an equally expensive package the color of bright fucking red. Tonight things are less busy in the place, with Iwaizumi and the duo in the living room, while Kunimi keeps watch on the door from his position bended over the counter. Like with everything in his life, the man looks bored and done at the same time.

“I have to give it to him, he does have taste.” Hanamaki points it out unemotionally, his eyes threading along the lady of the moment hanging off Oikawa’s arm. Mattsun looks up from his phone in time to catch a look, his arched brow doing an appearance.

“Yeah, but that’s not new.”

“The idiot blows through women as you do with joints.” Iwaizumi scoffs, twirling his cup of whisky and enjoys the moment to sip his drink. “Which is stupid, both of you.”

“Couldn’t hear your criticism over the sound of you downing that whisky.” Hanamaki pipes in and Mattsun laughs but quickly retrieves himself back to his phone once Iwaizumi gives both of them a nasty glare.

On the other side of the room, Oikawa parts ways with his company, probably telling the woman to go somewhere inside his apartment while he handles business. His companion’s normally don’t ask much about what he does -- the less they know, the less they lie.

While Iwaizumi does understand the appeal of having someone to warm his bed at night like that, it just seems ridiculous to parade them around as Oikawa does; as if they’re a walking vitrine of his power and money, clad in so many brilliants, Hajime wonders if Oikawa can even see them through the shine.

Iwaizumi sighs when Oikawa finally moves in their direction, crossing his leg over his thigh as he stretches his back against the chair backrest. He drinks the rest of the whisky in one go.

“I see you already treated yourself to some beverage, Iwa-chan.”

The ridiculous nickname stuck, even after all these years, no matter how many glares and curses Hajime threw his way– and Oikawa has seen Hajime kill men before. Still, the brunette stays unwavering in his teasing -- and Iwa has made arrangements to make sure no one but him feels free to use that denomination.

“Good whisky ain’t making me nicer, shittykawa.” There’s also the fact Iwaizumi maintains his mockery with his friend, even as most of the Mob now call him Boss. He supposes it’s good to have few good childhood memories, if one can.

“At least it makes you less grumpy.”

Iwaizumi wonders if people would believe him if he told them the Boss pokes his tongue out and flops on the sofa then again, Oikawa’s charm is in being unwavering himself. When Oikawa crosses his leg over his knee and blinks feral, focused eyes over Iwaizumi, it’s easy to see the beast that brought him into the position as the chief in command of the Seijoh Mafia. “So, what did you have to tell me that couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”

“You’re being reckless,” Iwa starts, calm. “I’ve told you about being careful with your companion’s while I’m busy handling that subject.”

Oikawa pretends not to listen, falling back on his big chair without a care in the world.

“She’s a friend!” His face turns smug, even while there’s a small whine in his voice. It’s a stark difference from the feral Oikawa Tooru that put fear in the hearts of every Mafia in the bordering neighborhoods where they acted and climbed the ranks so fast, he became the head of Seijoh mob while only closing in on his early thirties -- and that was ten years ago. Still, around Iwaizumi, Oikawa keeps being the same brat he ever was.

“You need to get laid, Iwa.” The brunette laughs a bit, pouring more whisky for both of them. “How long it’s been, huh? Two decades? That’s how long your frown has been etched onto your face.”

Makki and Mattsun try to hide their smiles, but it’s futile.

“Don’t worry about my love life.”

“Love life?” Now Oikawa laughs, hand smacking his knee in his amusement. “I’m talking fucking, Iwa. We don’t have time for love.”

“Another reason why you shouldn’t worry about what doesn’t pertain to you.”

“Ohh~” Iwaizumi hates that he saw the singsong coming, “such big words. Gosh, that must mean it’s been years without action down there.”

“Why the worry, Tooru?” Iwaizumi asks, voice turning deep, eyes threading over Oikawa’s face. That has happened -- and ended, but it didn’t mean the two men didn’t play around it sometimes.

“Is the sex you’ve been getting so bad, you’ve been worried about mine?” Iwa scoffs, drinks a full mouth of whisky and turns to look at Oikawa once again.

“You look too old to be getting any action,” Oikawa mocks him, snickering behind his glass. “Look at those lines and wrinkles, oh gosh Iwa, we’re the same age, you’re making me look bad.”

“Shut up, trashykawa,” Iwaizumi grumbles. “I’m just going to tell you this time: fucking behave. I’m looking into the mole, but you need to watch your back.”

“I thought that was your job, though.”

“Makes it a bit fucking hard when you bring home a diferent friend every night. Babysitting a toddler would be easier than you.” Iwaizumi grumbles and scoffs, finishing his drink in one go. “I’m doing my job. Now listen to me so that I can do it well.”

Iwaizumi slams his glass on the wooden coffee table and stands, the sound loud but not enough to disturb the rest of the men around the place. Maddog does look at Iwaizumi as if thinking what’s the cause for his distress, but the man has learned long ago that Oikawa rattles on everyone's nerves at some point -- Iwa just happens to be ticked more than the rest, a consequence of being friends with the man, he assumes.

Iwa pats his slacks, re-doing the button on his suit and walks away, moving a hand in the air as a way to say goodbye to Oikawa. “Your friend is waiting for you.”

Hanamaki and Matsukawa are behind him before he stops in front of the elevator doors, Kunimi not even looking up as the three of them leave. “Try not to be dead by the morning.”

“I’ll do my best~” Oikawa singsongs back, a carefree smile on his face.

Mattsun is driving tonight and that means Hanamaki is speaking the whole time, going on about how the Karasuno Mob is growing, potentially able to slip between Seijoh and Shiratorizawa’s territory if they’re not careful. Iwaizumi listens, but doesn’t really offer anything to the discussion; he’s too caught up in his head, wondering about what he’s going to do with Oikawa and how he can flush out the mole as fast as possible until something catches his ear, every thought in his mind freezing at the mention of the diner neighborhood.

“What did you say?”

“Huh?” Makki stops, looking back through the seat. “Oh, some of ours have been talking about seeing Shiratorizawa around downtown territory.” Makki turns serious, and it happens so rarely that the moment his demeanor shifts, Iwaizumi actually grasps his worries by the simple difference in the air surrounding the blonde. “Johzenji too.”

Now, that’s worrisome. While Seijoh and Shiratorizawa have some shared business in downtown and somewhat of a truce on those places, Johzenji is way too far from its limits, crossing borders they know they should not. Iwaizumi catches sight of how his frown actually caves lines on his forehead and Oikawa’s snickers pops in his mind as if the male was right there, he scoffs but his look is serious.

They can’t leave it that way.

Hajime tells himself that the fact that your face pops in his mind and the thought of a territorial war a few blocks away from the Diner makes his hands constrict into fists, has nothing to do with how fast he decided he must handle it.

But it gets a little less believable as he orders Matsukawa to keep an eye out on your street, like if it wasn’t clear that by your street -- he meant you.

You notice the man staying around.

Actually, you doubt anyone hasn’t noticed the tall man who likes to linger just a bit too much around your diner as if he’s your hired security guard or something. He’s taller than most people, broad and built enough for you to see it in the way his clothes cling to his form, and has this fixation with metal, because both his ears are pierced and his knuckles are always adorned with thick rings. He looks bad, and has a cigarette pending from his lips to crown the look. Which, of course, prompts half the women population who enjoy your diner to look. It probably doesn’t help that despite his aloof behavior he can be quite the charmer.

And you’re suspecting your cook and friend is falling for it.

“If you light that cigarette right now after I’ve just told you to leave and smoke outside, I swear to god I’ll use the fire extinguisher on you, Matsukawa-san.” You always chastise him out of the Dinner once he starts smoking, since Issei has no respect for the very big, very red “no smoking” sign you had to purchase just because of him. He grins at you from his high seat on the counter and lifts his hands in a sign of rendition.

“Okay, honey. I’ll drop it.”

You eye him very sharply until his fingers finally close around his cigar and he takes it out the clasp of his lips. You watch until he pockets it again in his metal case. Then, you finally blink and nod, turning to enter inside your kitchen. You’ve made the mistake of trusting him before, letting him out of your sight once he signaled defeat when you reprimanded him, just to come out and find him smoking anyway. So, now, you take the extra precautions with him, reason why you open the door without warning to check on him, finding him calmly studying the menu.

He eyes you and blinks, a big grin splitting his face.

“I’ll behave,” he crosses a finger over his heart like a scout. ”Promise.”

You snort, but turn around and enter the kitchen space, yelling at your friend the newest orders, to which she just yells back a fine.

You grab the done plates– buttermilk pancakes and swiss omelette with orange juice and black coffee– and push the door outside with your hip, while calmly balancing everything on your tray.

It’s a quiet late-morning, most of the regulars have already left for work and you’re dealing with the unusual clients, just three if you count Mattsun.

Once you’re back at the counter, Matsukawa is signaling with the menu for you to come over.

“So, what’s your order, Matsukawa-san?”

“First, I’d like you to drop the san, it makes me feels fucking old.”

You tease him just the bit by giving him a pointed look with a very arched eyebrow.

“Stop it,” he hisses at you, eyes narrowing. “Don’t you fuckin-”

“You are old,” you tell him, pleased with yourself when he hisses as if burned, making you sport a big smile while on it. He’s glaring at you. “See, this is how I feel when I catch you smoking once I tell you not to.”

His lopsided grin is a panty-dropper; too bad you’re thinking about how it would be if someone else grinned at you like that. “Valid.”

The seconds tick by while you wait for Matsukawa to say his order but he just stares at you as if you’re slowly losing your mind. You sigh, resist the urge to facepalm but do press two fingers into the middle of your forehead in an upwards motion to help with the stress, to look at him again and smile.

“Your order, Matsukawa-san?”

“Again with the -san? Let me make a deal with you. You call me Issei and I’ll never smoke inside again.”

You eye him suspiciously but ultimately decide it’s a nice deal.

“Deal,” you say, while jutting your lips out to hide a smile, still looking for hints he may be lying. “And if I catch you smoking inside again I’ll start calling you Jiji.”

Issei’s eyes go large, eyebrows shooting up to his hairline until he coughs and sputters, “you wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.”

The stare-down goes for a few seconds until you end it by saying, “I’ll get your regular,” and turning around to leave.

“This isn’t over!”

“Yeah, yeah, just behave.”

Once you’re in the kitchen, the clattering and noises are loud.

“You should chill a bit before you end up completely mutilating the pans, Rei. Half my money is in your kitchen.”

She throws you a nasty glare from across all the other way by her stove, doing God knows what but whatever it is smells heavenly.

“Do you believe the gall of this idiot outside?”

“Yep,” you chirp, but you eye her closely while she continues. You know her enough to know what’ll happen next.

“He had the fucking nerve to say my food was too salty.”

“Uh,” Escapes your lips, but you narrow your eyes at her, taking in the redness of her face, the way she looks overheated and the gesticulating arms while she walks around using too much strength while opening and closing the kitchen cabinets.

“SALTY!” She hollers to the emptiness of her kitchen, which pretty much makes it echo through the walls. You’re half certain you can hear Matsukawa chuckling outside. You wait for it, by now you know it’s coming. “I’ll show him what the fuck being too salty means.” She keeps going, cranky and beating the pans with that bit too much strength so that the clanks and tinkling sound loud even to you. You wait just a little bit more. “That handsome motherfucker, I’ll fucking deck him with my frying pan!”

And there it is.

You snicker just the tiniest bit, and put the order for his regular. She snatches it from your hand and points a paring knife at you.

“Don’t you dare say anything.” She does look fairly threatening, but the thing is that you’ve been on the other side of that knife one too many times to care now.

“Hey, if you like insufferable assholes, who am I to judge?”

“Fuck you.”

The movement is slow tonight, the cold weather with a drizzle makes your regulars stay home and the streets stay empty. It’s just a bit past midnight and you already know you’re closing early. Iwaizumi has been seated at his usual spot for a good twenty minutes already and, much like every other night, he’s just doing nothing -- looking over the street, reading the paper, sometimes a book or daring to look at his phone. Rei is still moving around in the kitchen and there’s only one other person in the diner -- an old man eating his soup calmly on the whole other side.

You feel restless; your eyes keep darting to him as if waiting to be caught, definitely not being the subtle person you hope to be, nothing catches your attention when Iwaizumi sits calmly by the window reading the paper and sipping on fresh coffee. Your eyes thread through his broad shoulders, poorly hidden under the fitted black social button up, rolled sleeves showing big, veiny forearms leading to strong, broad hands that seem even bigger when they engulf the coffee mug.

Hajime wears one ring, thick, black and a matching watch that probably costs as much as this whole place. You don’t need to see it to know his dark grey slacks are fitted; you’ve caught sight of it when he entered and you think there’ll be hell on earth before you forget how perfectly it hugs his frame, how delicious his ass is and how his waist is marked, beautifully, by the black belt. You thank the gods that he had already disposed of his suit jacket, or you’d be unable to survive so long.

You’re probably drooling, so you tear your eyes from him to make yourself a hot cup of coffee and hope that you can pretend the flustered feeling in your insides is from the steaming caffeine quickening your heart. However, seeing as your eyes drag slowly back to him, you think that’s a lost battle.

You drink a bit, breathe some more and decide to say fuck it. You’re not risking anything -- if he doesn’t want to talk, he can just say so. So you wash your hands, shed your apron and pick your coffee mug back up while walking to him. Before you even tread more than two steps, his deep, hard green eyes are already looking at you. They’re so impenetrable and focused, you wonder if he looks long enough, will he see your mind?

The thought makes your face heat up and you swallow the saliva pooling on your mouth before speaking,“mind if I sit?”

He nods no, but still answers, “go ahead.”

You slide on the seat in front of him, and for a second you regret your choice. Up close and with nowhere else to look, he’s even bigger -- his frame engulfs anything past his shoulders, his eyes demanding the sole focus of yours and you give it to him. But there’s a thought in your mind that helps you fight back the urge to let yourself slide and drown in the pool of deep green.

“So, I've been meaning to ask,” you tread carefully, knowing it’s a minefield ahead. You’ve been alone in this world with just your grandpa for a long time, and he was no saint. You’re no stranger to the fact that his diner has always been in mob-controlled territory. You’ve seen him bullied into paying back gambling loans too many times to not know how a bad man looks, and still, here you are, body warming and trembling just by the sight of what must be the baddest of them all. “Were you friends with my grandpa or something?”

Iwaizumi looks at you, blinks and then hums a question, slightly furrowed brows his only sign of confusion. “Hm?”

“It’s just that I’ve noticed… that you seem like you’ve been taking care of this place… of me.” You speak while your eyes keep darting between his face and down, a warm feeling seeping from your eyes that makes his brain slow down, too caught up in watching you until he realizes he walked into a tricky question.

Fuck. Think fast, Hajime.

“We weren’t exactly friends. But he was a mean card player and he got a lot of money out of me.” Iwaizumi speaks fondly, which is probably the only thing indicating that he isn’t here for some wicked king of payback. You nod while your brows slide up.

“I’m sure you also took a lot of money from him.”

“If I was lucky,” he pauses, “I don’t like to bet. But it was nice to play against him, even without betting.”

“I’m surprised he wanted to play without betting.”

“Rare occasions.” Iwa muses with a small smile in the corner of his lips.

Iwaizumi looks at you again, that deep stare as if he’s trying to catch your soul intent. “What I mean with that is… He never talked about you. Or having a family, for that matter.”

“Well… it’s like you put it. He was a gambler. And before he got good, he was bad. We struggled a lot with his debt while I was growing up. Once I left the house and I was working and got into college... he called me, asking for money. He knew I had a college fund -- small, but you know, enough to get by for a few years. I gave some of it to him and I told him that if he was going to call me for money, it’d be better if he didn’t call at all, so… our relationship was pretty strained this last few years.”

Iwaizumi doesn’t know what to say. So he tests around something he hasn't used in a long time, “sorry.”

“It’s fine. I just couldn’t possibly deal with his debt on top of mine, you know. And it was his choice not to call me for other reasons, so.” You shrug your shoulders, eyes downcast for a moment. If Iwaizumi ever knew how to console someone, he’d forgotten it a long time ago, but he’ll swear on his gun and every god above that he wishes he was sensible enough now to offer any kind of words that can resemble solace. He doesn’t know what you find in his face that makes you do a funny face, nose wrinkling, while smiling.

“It’s ok, I don’t hate him, you know. I just... He’s dead and I can’t help but think these things are in the past. Which may be fucked up but I’ve made my choice not to go through life with these demons.”

Iwaizumi nods, solemn. He knows a thing or twelve about going through life with demons and he wishes that you didn’t have to bear this even for the smallest of seconds. It gnaws inside your being, and the places where their claws sink usually fester. But, he doesn’t even risk thinking about what it’d be like for him to live without them -- they’re the closest to penitence for a whole life of sin he’s ever gonna get.

Talking to Hajime makes hours fly by like minutes.

He’s not very talkative himself, but he’s a great listener and he gives you fair, honest answers so you try to do the same. You ask him about the old man, what he’d been doing, and Hajime doesn’t even blink while saying that he kept gambling until his death; tells you how he’d been worried that the diner had been offered as collateral to some debt and would fall victim of your grandpa’s addiction even after his death. You tell him about life after college, how disheartening and anxious it was, how you’ve struggled without finding a job and hustled your way together with Rei. You tell him how you’ve felt good to win the Diner -- the new ideas and purpose, the excitement and how fun it was to think about life like this -- a business owner.

The one thing Hajime doesn’t tell you about is his job, which you feel is answer enough; and when you ask him about the late nights at the Diner, his lips quirk up and your heart quickens, whole body warming at how he tells you the diner has a special place in his life and that he doesn’t likes to sleep, only crashing once the sun come out.

He stays with you as you bid Rei farewell and close the restaurant, walks you to his car and drives you to your house. His car doesn’t move until you make it safe inside and only when your face comes to the window, does it starts to move away.

[to be continued]

#iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi fic #haikyuu fanfic #iwaizumi haikyuu #mafia au #thesmutpilecollab

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unlocktxt · 3 years

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hi 😄 i saw your reblog and i want to ask the same thing: what was your first impression of your moots?

First i want to say that I may of gotten a littleeeee carried away. I wanted to include as many people as possible, but some I don’t have enough to say. Despite this I might add more. I’ve met so many various people on this app and I’ve loved interacting with them all or just seeing them around. So much so that I can’t list everybody. I really love all my moots and there are so many of them that I’ll forever be grateful for. (yes i added a keep reading because this was so long and please excuse my gramtical errors)

@hoes4hoseok - our first impression was playing among us WHICH WAS SO FUN. I don’t remember much about talking to her in the game BUT I do remember that she was the first one to ever make the group chat filled with those who played with us. honestly I’m so grateful that she did that because I wouldn’t have been able to become friends with her and many others. I remember thinking that she was beyond kind and that she was good with trying to include everyone. After that I just remember hearing her voice and then DYING because she has a wonderful voice. I felt as though I related to you just a bit. Now I’ve gotten to see different aspects of her and really value her as a person and friend. She keeps things real and is so helpful. Sometimes I wish I could see what goes on inside her head because sometimes I think she reserves herself or overthinks and I’d like to give her a big hug.

@binniebutter - amie... oh amie 🙄 just kidding 😂 amie well... I also met her while playing among us in that same group. we played a lot with each other and I find that nice BECAUSE I CANT REMEMBER WHAT WE TALKED ABOUT DURING THE FIRST TIME WE PLAYED. I think I do remember laughing about her and gen tho. In our first gc I remember thinking that she had a bright personality and could keep the conversation going. I also find out we live about an hour away so I was able to connect with her about that (I also was so excited just because IVE NEVER MET AN ONLINE FRIEND IN THE SAME STATE) After that we played among us a lot together and I just remember thinking amie was EVIL. She was funny though and I felt comfortable around her. Now... I honestly think I’m pretty close to amie emotionally. It’s very rare that I put down my guard and talk to someone about certain things (I don’t really think I’ve talked to her about certain things tho) I still feel as though I can talk to her or that I can cry or rant to her without feeling judged. I don’t know how much she’s come to me about, but anytime I try to comfort her i feel like I get to know her better. I usually don’t start joking with my friends and being “rude” to them unless I know that they know I love them, which is why I’m starting to show amie sarcasm at times ☺️ I may of written too much 😅

@hyukaite I ACTUALLY REMEMBER MY FIRST IMPRESSIONS OF KAT. oml we’d send asks every now and then and I remember thinking she was a crack head. From the videos I’d see her post to that one drawing. Man if only I could go all the way back to it, but it was monthssss ago. I also remember relating to her about having to help our sisters with math 💀. I wanted to be her friend after seeing her interact with some of my other moots, but I was too shy to actually message her so I stuck with sending in asks every now and then 😂 then we started playing among us together. I remember thinking “NOOOO SHE STOLE YELLOW” which led to me falling in love with the dark green among us color JFKAJFLW. After that I remember getting betrayed by her in the game SO MANY TIMES. she killed me during the Simon says task... to tell you what grudge I hold... I still remember it. ITS SUCH A HARD TASK AND SHE DIDNT LET ME FINISH IT. She also killed me in electrical when I thought she was INNOCENT. Now... kat I don’t even know how to describe her. She has many aspects to her that I love. She also is able to help me think straight whenever I let my anger get to me.

@yawnjunie - I thought she was shy at first because when I first met her she didn’t talk much, so I felt bad because I thought she didn’t feel all that welcomed by us (no specific reason we were just introduced to blu so abruptly 😂) After that I think I was intimidated by her at first JFJAKFJERI. We also compared our schools and our grade mindset which I think really opened my eyes a little bit more. I still believe she’s really smart Zknfaltn. She makes me laugh though and she also started the network moacabinet. She’s really sweet with so many ideas, but I feel bad because sometimes I think she gets stressed easily. She’s not on much, but everytime she’s online I’m blessed with her presence.

@kkuming - gigiiiii! my first impression of gigi was fairly simple. We met on the au group chat and she seemed really sweet. I wanted to try and give gigi a warm welcome and make sure she felt comfortable. I wish I remembered more about our first meeting. I DO HOWEVER remember thinking she was v v innocent. I sat back and watched gigi get thrown into the group and laughed my ass off at how she interacted with kat. I was worried that because the others were already so comfortable with her and joking around about things that she may actually think that the “divorce” or whatever it was that kat and her had would make her upset, so I wanted to remind her that I appreciated her Zofnakfjeof. She also was taking a lot of stressful classes so I could only hope this girl didn’t die underneath all that stress. Now I- she’s crazy guys. Just kidding 😂 she’s still really sweet and jokes around with all of us. I’m glad she’s online a lot more now. she’s also really funny.

@lipbeom - I’m like 99.9% sure rynn was the first person I ever really talked to on tumblr. I thought she was a really good writer and saw that she was a senior as well, so I was glad that I wasn’t the only one on tumblr that was going to suffer through the last year of school. I was so glad when she messaged me first like Y’ALL HAVE NO IDEA. When I first met her I remember thinking she was really sweet AND BEYOND SMART. I’m really grateful for rynn and I actually miss her a lot because I feel like I don’t interact with her as much as I should. She was very supportive and still is. It’s only been a few months since I first talked with her but I’m reminiscing 😂 She also got me hooked on selling sunset WHICH WAS AMAZING but I was talking like the girls on the show for WEEKSSSSSSS.

@bbhyeoliskooks - I don’t really remember how I came across her, but I realized she was a new moa writer and wanted to check her out. My first impression... hmmm I guess you could say that I believed she was very grateful even when she didn’t have to be. Sometimes she makes me feel old 💀 but she’s reminds me a little bit of my sister... just way sweeter. She’s very loyal and anytime you tell her you’ve posted something oml she’s wonderful. She’s the type of person who is really supportive and I appreciate that, but sometimes I feel like I don’t give her enough of ittttt. I really need to go stalk her blog now as for some reason I don’t see her notifs half the time. I’m really proud of her and think she’s one of the sweetest people on tumblr NOT TO MENTION SHE SINGS BEAUTIFULLY.

@txthearteu - oml cj 😂 she is also one of the first people I talked to on tumblr. I don’t really remember our first impression tho :/. I DO REMEMBER I READ ONE OF HER STORIES THO and i sent an ask about it because she deserved the recognition for it. Hmmm at first I believe I was intimidated because she is older than me 😂 however she was so extremely sweet and I loved talking to her. I tried talking about various different things with her because I wanted our conversation to continue hehe. She stays feeding me 😌 and even if I can’t physically eat del taco I get full off of the love and support cj gives me. My eyes light up when I see her in my notifs. I think she deserves the world and I always want to be there for her. I don’t think I can ever repay her for the love she’s given me.

@sung4oon - SAM I SWEAR IF YOU CHANGE UR URL BEFORE I HAVE A CHANCE TO POST THIS! I met her when her url was... 👁👄👁 lixxie sumtin. I think it was lixieebear. I truly don’t remember her first impression 💀 the only thing I remember was thinking that she was also a crack head. She was really funny and sweet and DONT EVEN GET ME STARTED ON THE WHOLE BRAINCELL THING. I should’ve given her my brain cells for christmas. I still think she’s really fun to talk to and I literally try to remind myself as much as possible that I need to go stop by and send an ask every now and then. Even so she still says hi to me ☺️

@beomiebear5 - R A I N A. hehehehehehe I actually love this first impression for me. At the time I saw her anon asks to rynn. I saw that she was going to start posting stuff on her blog soon and she gave a hint about how to find her. Ofc I let rynn do that herself BUT I went searching KFJSIFIWFKW I couldn’t help it I saw it as a challenge. My first impression was rlly just that she was sweet. Then after a while KFJAOFJWOF I really love interacting with her and seeing her rants. Gosh she’s so funny and ✨inspires✨ me. I’m always down to talk to her because she’s amazing and sweet.

@magicisland9-34 - lillie ☺️ I honestly don’t remember our first impression? I do however remember when she first sent an ask! I would always get so excited when I got an ask from her 😂 I loved talking to her and she let me ramble on and on. Whether that be about gymnastics or ballet. Once again even lillie is sweet, but she’s betrayed me for siding with amie about Christmas 😤. She’s also one of the people that I try to remind myself to go and visit their blog and see what they’ve posted.

@spookybias - if I remember correctly gen was the first one who reblogged my about me post, which ended up allowing others on this app to see that I was a new writing blog. She was also one of the first people I followed and one of the first who followed me, so I was really grateful and thought she was beyond helpful and nice. I also really believe she’s a great writer and i admired how she would tell things how they are. She’s always been sweet to me even if she’s threatened to shoot me a while back 😤. OH YEAH we also played among us together in that group as well and I always suspected her at one point. IT WAS BECAUSE THE ONE TIME I TRUSTED HER SHE KILLED ME.

@bffsoobin - My first impression of Sara was pretty simple like I found her blog and fell in love. she writes so well and I’ve loved everything I’ve read from her. I thought she was really pretty and pretty funny too. When she’d talk about some of her stories revolving school it honestly made my day as well. I admire her especially because she’s such a good writer and LET ME TELL YOU when she followed me back I think I did a little cheer. I was reading her fics before I even started writing on tumblr.

@soobcxre - I saw Sara around because we had a lot of moots in common and when I saw them interact I would just think about how I wanted to befriend her 😂. When she texted me I got so excited, but I WAS SO CAUGHT UP IN SCHOOL TOO. She’s also really sweet ajfjwkfjw and I’m glad to have met her.

@lovesickchoi - MADDIE 🤩 I.... I don’t remember my first impression of her 🥲. It may of revolved around asks? I think I ended up trying to get to know her more at the time I was trying to get to know yoonie. I say this because I remember always seeming to get their urls mixed up... I think it’s because the h at the beginning. I LITERALLY DONT REMEMBER HOW WE STARTED INTERACTING. She’s also an amazing writer tho! Now I still think she’s sweet and we’ve talked about yeonbin together 😂.

@sunoo-luvs - 🥺 zaara JFJAJRKSKF literally my first impression was “cute.” That still stands btw. She’s absolutely the sweetest and is really considerate of others IM SCARED BECAUSE SHE MAY APOLOGIZE FOR THINGS THERES NO NEED TO APOLOGIZE FOR. Even so she can easily add happiness to people’s day with just a hi and a hug.

@i2gyu - I- first impression: scary. IM KIDDING wait... actually even though that was a joke because she used to stop by and say “boo” I MAY OF ACTUALLY FELT INTIMIDATED BY HER AT FIRST. I think one of the first times we interacted was about a network and at the time I was ready to join a network SO I FELT SO BAD FOR SAYING NO. Afterwards tho I realized how nice she was and I always end up getting a little energetic once I see she’s sent in an ask. One day I’m scared I won’t see her change her url or blog, but that’s if she does again.

@fairycore-gyu - I haven’t interacted with anyone new recently and when I saw kira that obviously changed 😂. I related to her with music taste and stuff. LET ME TELL YOU when someone seems to have the same music taste I JUST my eyes light up. She was really welcoming and I instantly felt like I could message her anytime. I also just realized she’s a pisces 🥺.

@yoonjunie - I just remember thinking ooooo new moa writer! I think anyone who comes across her can say she’s very welcoming and sweet + she deserves everything she has. I really just wanted to support her 😂 I need to interact with her more and read more from her blog.

@hyeyoonwrites - yoonie 🥺 AHHHH okay 😂 first impression: LITERALLY THE SWEETEST. I know I’ve said that so many people here are sweet but yoonie is a different kind of sweet. I don’t know every single time I’ve interacted with her has felt like a soft hug. She’s supported me a lot and I really need to check up on her more frequently I feel guilty about it aifoshf.

@txtextme - gon I- even though we haven’t talked much she’s extremely funny and relatable. she just has this vibe that I love about her. I know I don’t have much to say, but I had to add her because she’s left an impact.

@yeonbins - VIVI HAS WONDERFUL GIFS. Every now and then I’ll see her post some stuff just talking and akfjskf. I mainly remember (I think) Starbucks getting her name wrong. Her names so pretty tho. I DIDNT EVEN REALIZE HOW MUCH OLDER SHE WAS THAN ME. I also played among us with her for a lil... I was scared she was gonna murder me 😂.

#asks 💌#wonderful anon ✨#first impressions #not me forgetting to tag people

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rkived · 4 years

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drabble #2: pediatricsurgeon!jk is sure he only has a tiny crush on generalsurgeon!reader, but neurosergeon!taehyung makes him face the reality of how big that little crush actually is.

or, in which, hypothetically speaking, would jungkook mind you going on a date with obgyn!jimin? (hospitalplaylist!au)

↩ previous | 📍drabbles masterlist | next ↪️

‘‘Yeah, yeah,’’ Taehyung spoke, rolling his eyes as he makes his way to seat next to Jungkook, who was having his dinner.

And by dinner, it’s the microwavable Top Ramen his office’s pantry is filled with.

He opens his mouth, finger pointing at it as the silent request for Jungkook to feed him ‘‘No, I mean─’’

He does and now Taehyung’s mouth is stuffed with noodles, interrupting his conversation as he mumbles the last of his words, though they’re incoherent.

‘‘Mph─?” he garbles “I’m having dinner.’’ he answers after swallowing and Jungkook stifles a laugh at his annoyed expression, he can’t tell if Taehyung’s unpleased with the person on the phone or with his mischievous action ‘‘What? No! I’m having dinner at work.’’

By the way he’s speaking, the pediatrician figures out who his friend’s talking to.

‘‘Yoonah?’’ Jungkook mouths and Taehyung nods, there’s a glimmer of annoyance in his eyes.

Taehyung huffs, switching the phone to his other hand as he takes Jungkook’s chopsticks to feed himself more noodles ‘‘Okay, y’know what? I’ll call you later, babe.’’ and the neurosurgeon's girlfriend is not allowed to answer back because Taehyung has already ended the call, putting his personal phone on airplane mode and placing it on one of his lab coat’s pockets.

He groans, exhausted. Taehyung never looked like this, not even after a big surgery. Jungkook doesn’t even make an effort to take his chopsticks and ramen back.

‘‘You should break up with her already.’’ Jungkook casually advices and it’s obvious this is isn’t the first time the topic has been discussed.

Taehyung shakes his head slightly, cheeks stuffed with noodles and the pediatrician wants to squeeze them for the fun of it, but his friend’s annoyed so Jungkook might just get it.

Taehyung swallows and he sighs ‘‘I’m too old to date again,’’ he explains and Jungkook prepares himself to hear his friend’s excuse for the upteenth time ‘‘and Yoonah is a pain in the ass, but she puts up with me. I have to meet her halfway.’’

Jungkook knows it’s not because of that.

Taehyung isn’t old, but once he turned thirty he had deemed himself ancient. The neurosurgeon even cried while they all sang him the ‘happy birthday’ song.

Also, Yoonah is a twenty-two-year-old model and she’s pretty, so there’s that.

‘‘You should mind your business,’’ Taehyung spoke ‘‘you’re old too, yet your ass is single.’’

Jungkook did get it after all.

‘‘I’m not old, I’m still in my twenties.’’ Jungkook argued and his friend laughed out loud enough to be heard by the passer-bys outside the pediatrician’s office.

‘‘Barely,’’ Taehyung replied after calming down ‘‘you’ll be thirty in a few months, say goodbye to your youth.’’ he says this bitterly, like he resents the natural aging a human has to go through.

The pediatrician sighs, eyes closed ‘‘Taehyung, turning thirty does not equal to being old, in fact, thirty is the new twenty!’’

He read that somewhere, probably one of those lame Facebook posts that definitely a thirty-year old wrote to makes themselves feel better. Taehyung’s thirty-two so he can attest that that’s not true at all.

‘‘Anyway, right now I’m focused on my career,’’ Jungkook continues ‘‘I can think about settling down later.’’

Taehyung hums, unimpressed ‘‘Fine, die alone then.’’

The familiar ringtone of Jungkook’s phone is the conversation ender between the two. Jungkook smiles lightly at the way your name displays on the screen.

Taehyung chuckles ‘‘Or don’t.’’

Jungkook ignores him and answers his phone with a chirpy tone ‘‘Hey, you coming?’’ he asks and he can hear papers being stacked in the background, he guesses you’re rearranging stuff in your office like you always tend to do once a week, apparently it brings you sanity.

‘‘Yeah, in like, ten minutes’’ you say and Jungkook knows you’ll be right on time, he hopes he’s still here by then.

You’ve been a little too busy lately and he’s been unable to have a face-to-face conversation these days, coincidentally falling on a time where he’s fully aware of his tiny crush on you.

Maybe it’s a good thing, but now he goes stupid whenever he bumps into you around the hospital’s hallways because he’s not mentally prepared when he sees you. He’s never able to fully explain why he stumbles over his words when this happens.

You hang up, explaining you need to finish something up before you’re able to stop by his office and Jungkook doesn’t let you know he already knows what you’re doing, instead telling you he’ll wait for your arrival.

‘‘Ah, Namjoon was right,’’ Taehyung speaks up ‘‘this is serving me Med School vibes.’’

‘‘You’re thirty-two, please don’t talk like that.’’ Jungkook reminds him, there’s a whine in his voice and he physically cringes at his friend’s usage of the new slang terms.

Taehyung frowns ‘‘Thought I was young.’’

‘‘This is not Med School, alright?’’ the pediatrician clarifies, standing up from his place on the couch to take the finished Top Ramen his friend had ate for him and throwing it in the trash ‘‘I am mature now, I can control my emotions better.’’ he guarantees.

‘‘Oh yeah?’’ Taehyung retorts and Jungkook nods, he seems sure of himself ‘‘So, let’s say that─hypothetically speaking─Jimin asks Y/N out on a date and she said yes, would you get upset?’’

Jungkook hums ‘‘OBGYN Park Jimin?’’ he asks and Taehyung nods ‘‘Hypothetically speaking, he doesn’t have a chance on going on a date with her.’’ he answers with a tight lipped smile.

‘‘Hypothetically speaking, why not?’‘ Taehyung prods.

The pediatrician scoffs, thinking this conversation was absurd and quickly taking another direction ‘‘Because, hypothetically speaking, Y/N is out of his league,’’ he entertains the idea anyway ‘‘and yes, that includes medical fields.’’

Taehyung stands up abruptly ‘‘Okay, pause, are you trying to say that bringing a baby into the world is lesser than a common surgery? Where does that place me then?”

‘‘Hypothetically speaking.’’ Jungkook says through gritted teeth ‘‘Why are you bringing that up, anyway?’’ he asks because even though Taehyung always talked about the randomest shit, it always made sense in the end.

His friend shrugs his shoulders, like there’s no particular reason ‘‘I don’t know, maybe Jimin’s interested,’’ he teases ‘‘maybe not.’’

Jungkook’s heartbeat races up and he’s come to understand why Namjoon gave him that diagnosis a few weeks back.

He’s nervous.

---

By the time you stop by, Taehyung’s long gone having already lit the match, but not bothering to wait and watch it burn.

You so kindly came with an iced americano for him and a small cupcake to indulge yourself in, a small reward for the succesful surgery you had done earlier that day.

Jungkook is trying to listen to you explain to him what the process was like, but your words sound like an echo in his head instead. He can’t help but to think about Taehyung’s stupid—but valid—hypothetical situation.

Well, he’s sure he’s not madly in love with you. Like, he hasn’t reached that level—yet. If anything, this crush is a ‘I think you’re really pretty and smart and nice and sweet and cool’ sort of crush.

Fuck, this is actually giving him Med School vibes too.

“Would you go out on a date with Park Jimin?” he interjects and his brain is yelling at him, perhaps he should seek Taehyung’s help next “Hypothetically speaking.” he adds once he notices the raise of your eyebrow.

You cross your arms over your chest, glancing somewhere else “Uhm,” you really don’t know what to answer, thinking that entertaining Jungkook’s out of the blue questions usually don’t end up well “I don’t know—I guess?”

“Hypothetically speaking, right?” Jungkook asks, but it sounds like he’s begging for you to tell him that the situation would never happen.

“Sure,” you shrug “he seems like a nice guy.”

Jungkook tries not to yell in frustration.

There’s no backstory to him and the OBGYN. The pediatrician only resents the fact that Jimin had become residents’s favorite doctor, taking Jungkook’s spotlight away. He had made peace with it, there was something about that guy that was indeed charming.

But now, this opens up the possibility of you being on Jimin’s league. He tries not to let Taehyung’s words affect him, but what if the OBGYN really is interested?

Jungkook knows his neurosurgeon friend and the bright smile guy get along quite well, have caught them eating together at the hospital’s cafeteria more than once.

Does...does this mean Jungkook has competition? Is he actually going to have to do something about this tiny —not so tiny— crush?

A lightbulb pops over Jungkook’s head instead “Hypothetically speaking, would you go out on a date with me?”

“Okay, what’s up with you?” there’s laughter in your tone and Jungkook doesn’t like the way you can’t seem to take him seriously.

“Y/N!” he whines “just answer, it’s hypothetical anyway.” Yeah, hypothetical.

You sigh, there’s a level of patience you have to have for dealing with him. You’ve studied it and have learnt it for the past decade and few years of being friends with him. Yet, you still have to prepare yourself every time.

“Are we friends in this hypothetical context?” you ask and he narrows his eyes at you, does that change your answer? He nods anyway “Mmm, yeah, sure.”

Jungkook wants to yell in excitement now, but he’ll wait for when he’s in the privacy of his home.

He’s in your league too, then!

He can’t help but smile anyway, but you mistake it with him making fun of you, because this is something he could possibly use to embarrass you later on.

“You’re so weird.” you mumble, drifting your gaze somewhere else as if to hide from him.

You make a mental note to threaten him about not revealing this information to any of your friends later on. Right now, it’s actually sort of cute seeing his bunny-like smile.

a/n: i be like “don’t be shy, write some more :)” kssjsjsjsj [roblox death sound] n e way here’s some more pediatrician!jk x gs!reader for y’all this is purely self indulgent at this point but u know what ??? i am at peace with that

#jungkook drabble #jungkook fluff #jungkook au #jungkook scenario #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #bts au #bts jungkook au #jeon jungkook scenario #jeon jungkook drabble #jeon jungkook au #just woke up from a nap too

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ricaffeine · 4 years

Text

𝐇𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 | 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫

a/n: finally i updated this lol. i hope you guys haven’t lost interest in this AU yet :( this took me two excruciating nights to write so it’d mean a lot if you’d leave any kind of feedback!! you know it makes it makes my hours of suffering worthy haha, anyways i hope you enjoy this, the next chapter will be very fun hehehe <3 (it’s 2am rn isn’t it great, enjoyyy;)

CHAPTER FIVE

It’s like a faint breath when he gradually breaks away from their kiss, ever so gingerly as his face swells into her cloudy vision. The droplets of rain that collapse onto her skin cause her to shiver, however her eyes strain on him. Deliberately she studies his tense features, drops of water glide down his breathtaking face, and Kangtae quips back from his stare that was directed behind her, his breathy voice matches her trembling breath.

“Are you okay?”

Her heart hammers in her chest as she blinks rapidly, Munyeong forces down a gulp. For the first time in her life she couldn’t think of a snarky comeback. What was she supposed to answer? I’m okay?

Shakily, she clutches onto the fabric of his shirt and her one-track mind blurts out.

“I’m hungry.”

A sharp ring blares into the silence as they step into the convenience store, decently warm air greets their entrance and passive employees don’t take note of their presence. Munyeong squeamishly glances around as she seats herself to an empty table he has brought her to. “When I told you I was hungry, I didn’t think you were going to bring me to this kind of place.”

Kangtae lets out a breath and retorts. “So you expected me to bring a fancy restaurant to you during this storm?”

She huffs, topping one leg across the other as she crosses her arms. “Forget it.”

Time ticks by as rain shatters against the glass plane walls− the store’s lambent light glows among the dark street, like a flame luring in any lone moth upon this thundering night. The lingering acidic fragrance of mopping detergent that mixes with fresh rain burns through her nose and frigid air coats her blistered skin- her damp clothes steering another wave of iciness to her numb body. Munyeong intensely studies his figure, daggering slits at every movement of his excruciatingly amiable composure, doubting how he could still be− whilst trains of endless thoughts ran through her wild mind, he had the audacity to be this calm.

Her skin crawled with impatience. Still she could not put a finger behind any of his deeds- sure she had noticed the factors that resonated with his extremely complicated personality, but none of them were in any way comprehensible. How could he be pushing her away one minute, then the next minute she sees him running towards her under the thrashing rain− kissing her?

Unforgivingly her mind muses back over to their stunt− his lips were soft, warm against the icy surroundings as he teeth relentlessly dragged across her lower lip. She scoffs at her thought, cheeks subconsciously burning and she focuses on planning her confrontation instead.

Despite her glowering stare, his negligence did not seem to demolish− Kangtae restlessly pours the hot water into both cups. Weighing his options of either waiting for it to cook at the table with her− that includes risking an opening for her to launch her interrogation, or he would rather stand at the counter. He chooses the latter.

To think about it, the only reason she was still even in her right mind was because of him. If he had not abandoned his interpretations to never see her again and rescue her from another imminent disaster, she would not stand the chance to live a normal life after seeing that vicious spirit. Notably, his stunt did a fairly good job at distracting her, however, yes, their incident earlier was a terrible mistake− in fact it was the gravest decision he had made during his 200 existing years− but what was he supposed to do? It was forbidden that he could harm any of the hotel’s guests, let alone she was the one who refused to follow through his instructions.

The clock ticks and Kangtae lets out a grunted sigh, picking both cups as he heads back to the grave he had solely dug. He can feel her broiling gaze as he slides into the opposite chair, her bickering follows shortly. “Aish, you didn’t even buy kimchi.”

Breaking apart the wooden chopsticks, Kangtae responds nonchalantly, avoiding any possible confrontation. He doesn’t have the energy to. “Just eat. You said you were hungry.”

Munyeong severely glares at him− he stirs his cup of noodles, elbows planted on the edge of the table as his drenched shirt clings onto his figure and if Munyeong was not so baffled at the moment, she would be giddily eating up the view of his toned muscles.

But she was baffled, everything he had done only assigned a new question to her brain. Yet he was speaking to her so casually, it only drags her mood to aggravation and her patience slips away like quicksand. Unraveling her arms, she leans forward, settling her elbows on the table, eyes gleaming and she releases her flaming curiosity.

"Do you like me?"

Instantaneously he freezes− Kangtae can't help but scoff. Surely he had expected her pretentiousness, although he did not predict it was this level. He sternly pierced eyes with her, tone laced with determination. "No, Ko Munyeong. I don’t like you. Don't be so delusional− "

"Me? Delusional? Not even an hour ago you were so concerned about getting me to leave, yet you were the one who ran up and kissed me−” Munyeong lashes out, eyes suddenly glinting as if she understood something. Her voice drops as she arches an eyebrow at him, words punched with emphasis. “Are you playing hard to get?"

Lost for words, Kangtae gapes, breaking away their stare as his jaw set into a sharp line. “No. Now could you−”

“If not, then what?” She cuts him off. That was the only reason that seemed to resolve his bizarre actions. “Why did you kiss me?”

Time stands still between them, a few seconds of deafening silence break with the heaving of her chest before he crudely bites out a response.

“A mistake. It was a mistake.”

She is not one gullible enough to believe his lie and Munyeong curses under her breath, the itch to rile him up until he is inescapable routes through her veins. Instead she roughly peels the lid off her bowl of now cold noodles, she feeds herself in a pace where it might give her a stomach ache but she doesn't care. At least the food was coping with one of her feelings. She’ll get him to answer anyway.

Collapsing into his arm chair, his agonizing groan breaks into the tight silence of his room. Fatigue washes down his aching body and Kangtae closes his eyes shut, head falling back.

“Sir.” Jinhyun’s voice emits as he hastily enters the room. “Is everything alright?”

“I’m fine. Inform the grim reapers about our lost guest,” He orders. “They’ll take care of it.” The older slowly nods, although his worry does not die down as he queries another question. “What about Ms. Ko?”

Kangtae hesitates. “She’s fine.”

Their conversation had ended abruptly after he bit out those words, she ignored him for the rest of their meal, and when he succeeded to get her a ride home, she brushed past him without a goodbye. He was thankful, really.

“Call her tomorrow and tell her I have a deal to offer.”

When Jinhyun dismisses himself, Kangtae sinks back into his chair, a long sigh bleeding from his chest. His intinctions tell him to push her away. But he couldn’t. Not until he ascertained how she saw− did such things. To his knowledge that tree was well dead for years, supposedly forever, let alone it was forbidden to be seen by mortals. Until her. Ko Munyeong, that illustrator. She sparked something that even he could not do.

His unsettling chest demands for an answer, and he knows exactly who he needs to confront. Mago.

taglist -> @truccieeboo @anotherdush @pig-on-acid @4everinbluejeans @pancat @lookingatthesunset @ourcoffeeaddictme @ailander @nothingcreativeyet @callmeashipper @evielovesfood @waywarm @hotstuff-benswolo @ewolfwitchwisegirl @gloster @mszelle

#it's okay to not be okay #psycho but it's okay #pbio fic #iotnbo fic #hotel moon light #hotel blue moon #hotel del luna #moon kang tae #moon gang tae #ko mun yeong #ko moon young #kim soohyun #seo yeaji

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minalous · 4 years

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fallen candy | 1

⇁ yoongi x female reader x taehyung ft Jimin x female reader

⇁ romance,humour,angst,smut || supernatural!au

⇁ yoongi!angel, taehyung!angel, reader!hybrid, mentions of death, oral (female receiving), fingering, loss of virginity, love triangle, future poly

The gates of the underworld are now open, unleashing evil and death on earth. Namjoon cannot stand to see his beloved humans suffering so he asks his most trusted friend Yoongi to help him save them. With the help of Taehyung, Yoongi is searching for the hybrid that will help them save humanity. They are searching for you.

⇁5.1k

...

Eras come and go, thousands of years full of knowledge and history are intertwined with the humans on this earth, the world created for them. As humanity started growing into something magnificent, evil and hatred came to disturb it. The wondrous world of humans is about to cease to exist, no miracle would be able to recover the atrocities the demons had done over the past few years; Humans stopped believing in the old gods, in the new gods, in any gods for that matter. They gave up every power they were holding, they offered that power to monsters whose only desire was to destroy whichever privilege their gods openly offered them.

The true Gods gave them free will, courage, intelligence, a beautiful world to live in. And what did they do in return? They destroyed their world, they worshipped gold and silver, they fell on their knees and worshipped false gods which never existed. The true Gods wished nothing but happiness and love for their creation. Can they help them now? Yes they can. It is not too late.

Their headquarters are filled with smart beings, some not so smart but heavenly beautiful.

Yoongi, Taehyung, Jungkook and Namjoon are four of the Gods, half daemons, half angels. Daemons were creatures of wisdom, creatures equal to Gods so they were treated as such. Their angel blood gave them power which was much needed for the wonders they did upon the earth. Day and night they would guard humans from evil, keeping demons and monsters under their control. When humans began their secret worshipping of demons, when they started having evil thoughts and feelings which had to be restrained, they lost their connection to the heavenly creatures. Their free will was in their nature, nobody would take it away from them; but that was what led them to hell upon earth.

The gates of the underworld were now open, unleashing evil and death on earth. Namjoon could not see their creation dying, suffering until they would beg to be put out of their misery. They created them because they needed to love and be loved. He had to act and he had to act now.

Namjoon gathers his most trusted friends to ensure the immediate resolution of their biggest problem. He knows the only remedy to the situation is to create a new hybrid, a creature powerful enough to have their enemies tremble in fear. The hybrid would be their new leader, the leader they’re in need of and who will shed light on the darkness the demons have brought upon humanity.

The details about the recent events in the underworld and on earth have the Gods agree upon taking great measures to ensure an immediate expedition, to acknowledge the danger, the considerable pressure growing bigger. Namjoon further explains how humans are no longer free, their will is manipulated by the demons, vampires and other hideous monsters who are in need of puppets to do their deeds. And that is when Namjoon drops the bomb out of nowhere; the need to create a hybrid.

“You want us to do what?”

Yoongi has become so furious with their leader’s announcement, the weight of the task given to them is something more than what he has anticipated for.

“If you do not do it, Jungkook will. And you know what that means”

Namjoon’s voice is loud and clear, determination lacing his soothing tone. He is confident enough to entrust an important task to his best friend, a task that could ensure a win against the evil powers controlling humans. He would not want to have Jungkook handle a strategy in need of meticulous research, a plan to reveal weaknesses about their enemies. Jungkook may have the muscles but Yoongi has the brains. However weird it may seem, Taehyung is a better shot to the unknown than Jungkook on this occasion.

“Hey! I am a real asset to this team”

Jungkook pleads to be chosen for this mission, muttering under his breath he’s better than anyone else in this room.

“You are only off by two letters”

Jungkook stares at Yoongi’s direction, furrowing his brows in deep confusion due to the daze Yoongi’s words caused him.

“Stop speaking with fancy riddles, hyung” Jungkook says in an almost begging voice

"And you call me stupid"

Taehyung mocks Jungkook in a childish way, making both Yoongi and Namjoon hold their temples in an attempt to calm their frustration. They are in great need of cunning beings that can accomplish tasks in this time of need, but who knows what must be going on inside their brains.

"You make a good rival" Jungkook tells him proudly

"Stupidity is not something you should be proud to compete but between the two of you, I would not expect anything better"

Yoongi’s voice now mirrors Namjoon's feelings, his words confusing the two younger Gods even more but making Namjoon laugh.

"Please just accept the research. You cannot leave me with Jungkook as my last resort" Namjoon now pleads for Yoongi’s acceptance, pointing at Jungkook who is trying to fight off a small bug with his fists, throwing tiny punches in the air.

"Hey! I am right here guys" Jungkook says once more, scaring away the two older Gods

...

In the end, Yoongi ends up accepting Namjoon’s offer to become the leader of the research, a team working under his command who is seeking for clues about the existence of a hybrid. Taehyung is the one to seek answers hidden in the history of their ancestors, as Yoongi tries to discover new information about the demons on earth. Yoongi hasn’t seen humans from up close for a very long time, his eyes wandering to find any clue that could lead him to the main source of their problem.

It has been two months now and he had almost given up. There were no signs of change, the same old things kept happening; vampires feeding off humans, humans willingly offering their souls to demons for a better life, people worshipping false gods which in reality were reapers that would later torment their souls for eternity. It breaks Yoongi’s heart to see those low life demons disturbing the peace of his beloved humans.

When Yoongi could no longer bear the thought of seeing those atrocities and was about to leave, he sensed an immense power. There must have been a powerful creature on earth. He could sense it was evil; the powerful aura radiating from within its heart was pure evil. Since nobody could ever see him, living or dead, good or evil, he walked towards the direction of where the being should be. But he would have never expected to see what he saw.

A fallen God. One of the monstrous Gods that killed hybrids with their bare hands.

In the older days, Gods had the freedom to be with whoever they desired to be; angels, daemons, humans, witches. Everyone was living freely all across the lands. Hybrids were created, beings much more powerful than most of the Gods. Soon enough some the Gods envied the power the hybrids held, fuelled with jealousy and anger they achieved to turn every powerful God and magical creatures against them. Families were destroyed, young kids dragged away from their mothers’ embrace and in a matter of days, the young hybrids were either exiled or dead. But for the jealous gods, the massacre wasn't enough, and they started hunting down the surviving children; had those poor souls tremble in fear before tearing their hearts from their chest, killing mothers with their unborn babies inside them. This complete genocide of innoncent hybrids couldn’t be ignored by the other Gods, who stepped in to bring the perpetrators to justice. All except for one..

Nobody ever sought revenge, nobody tried to find what happened to the hybrids that survived. Deep down their parents knew what was better; even if the kids were in exile, it would be for the best for their identity to stay unknown; and if they were dead, they wouldn’t want to know the truth. Exile sounded better than death and for them, a lie would be better than the truth itself. It hurt too much to get separated from their beloved kids but who was to rise against the almighty Gods?

Taehyung is given the order to search for any clues inside the books they were passed down through generations, to find anything remotely close about the history of the hybrids. The library contains hundreds of books, centuries of history including the hybrids, knowledge upon the Gods, the known enemies, the existence of powerful unknown enemies hidden in the shadows, possible threats in the foreseeable future. So much information that is enough to get Taehyung confused and mostly make him give up only after two months of research.

Yoongi finds Taehyung shuffling around the library with one of the librarians, almost ready to devour her on top of priceless books which offer unlimited access to humanity's history. He would have expected him to be irresponsible, to be lazy and grumpy about the difficulty and the obligation of his duties towards their team but he would have never expected this kind of irresponsibility.

Yoongi fake coughs and it is enough to alert Taehyung who shoves himself away from the poor girl, the girl bowing slightly before leaving the two Gods alone. Taehyung is quick to grab the book right next to him, sitting back down on his chair to continue reading or at least pretend to.

"I never claimed to be the smart one, Yoongi hyung" the small pout on his lips is the sign that he is about to use, Yoongi's weakness

"Do not hyung me, Tae." Yoongi scoffs to the younger's attempt to get away from being lazy so easily

"It has been two months now and there is no progress! I am not the one to fix such a complicated matter!" Taehyung loses his calm, pouty demeanour and stands up with a small jump from his chair, tossing the book he was holding on the desk. "I wish I could help but reading is not my speciality. Having my head between books is boring" he whispers under his breath but Yoongi is quick to hear his words.

"Being between someone's legs is your speciality but right now we need you. I need you. We are talking about humanity's last chance to be saved." Yoongi's sarcasm is easy to detect and it has Taehyung get smaller when he sits back on his chair, book in hands again to keep up with their research "You may not care about them, may not miss them but they still have faith in us, Tae. We promised to take care of them as long as they honour us. And they still do." Yoongi eyes Taehyung for the first time this evening, his glare intimidating, so intimidating that has Taehyung look away from him before muttering something that sounded like "okay I'll do my best not to have them die"

Taehyung desperately tries to find any clue about the existence of any hybrids, any hint that there may be someone left to lead them back to the land where they used to live, where the families raised their kids. Two weeks go by since his small argument with Yoongi and he can feel that they are going in circles, there is no history left from back then, it seems as if they have erased any kind of hint about the hybrids.

“I give up. I guess humanity is going to die!” Taehyung mumbles “And I am in no mood to create new humans” he pouts and kicks his legs like a five year old

One of his wishes is to find an answer about the hybrids, he has been praying day and night to his ancestors to find a hybrid or for them to simply create one. Taehyung’s fear is not what will happen to humanity or what horrors the demons will bring upon them but what Yoongi and Namjoon will do to him if he doesn’t do his job. A loud thump breaks his train of thoughts, he jumps up quickly to find the cause of his disturbance.

“Why can’t I have some peace of mind?”

His footsteps lead him to an aisle full of some of the most ancient books they have, some of those are not even related to the recent Gods including him as well, books enclosing a few of the mysteries of the universe’s creation. A piece of paper draws his attention, with careful moves he retracts the paper and carefully reads it.

“Cl-o-clo...se? Close?” Taehyung sighs and tries to read it again

“ ‘Close your eyes’ ? Why didn’t I pay attention to ancient Greek? Okay.. Relax Taehyung. You got this..” he takes a deep breath and starts again “ ‘Close your eyes and.. and call my name.‘ ”

The frustration is already built up inside his mind, no time to waste but he is here trying to read a stupid paper that gives him no clue.

“Do I look like I know your name?”

“Call my name”

“W-what?” even for a creature like Taehyung that holds so much power, he is still scared of unknown voices that whisper to him.

Before he can ask for a second time, deep sleep takes him over and soon enough he is snoring on the floor, the books on the shelves shaking as something or maybe someone is arriving. The powerful spell he had just cast consumed all of his power and drained him but he is safe as the young woman arrives into their heavenly kingdom.

...

You are here.

You don’t know what here is, you don’t know where you are, what you are. You only know you belong here. Something or someone called for you. Someone woke you up from your deep sleep, you don’t know for how long you have been asleep for. Your last memory is your mother and father telling you how much they love you, how proud they are for you, how good and kind you are and that one day they will be with you again. They were scared last time you saw them; so scared. You were only a few decades old when something happened that brought so much sadness inside your house, in the place you grew up and learned to call home.

The way you heard your parents scream your name, the moment you saw their expressions change from happiness to pure terror... It still haunts you after so many years of silence. Their love can still be felt in your heart, you let it guide you as you walk down the aisle. By the looks of it, it must be a library. You think it must be a beautiful place to wake up, to make up for the years of not learning anything new, to build new memories to call your own.

It feels safe to be here, that’s what you think, already enchanted by the knowledge getting offered to you so openly. Book already in hands and for the first time in so long, you feel at peace. Even when you were asleep, away from reality, you could feel the loss, the longing. But now, everything seems to be falling into place. Is this what it feels like to hope?

There’s a God near you; you can sense his presence, his aura. A wave of euphoria overwhelms your emotions for a few seconds without realising you may be in heaven right now.

“Can I stay here a little bit longer?”

The stranger nods softly, a warm smile on his lips as he closes the space between you. Without any warning he hugs you, a way to reassure you it is safe to be here, to be with him.

“Of course” his voice sounds so sweet to your ears

“My name is Yoongi. If you need me, let me know”

With Yoongi gone you wish to continue reading, more and more books to offer you knowledge you don't have yet about this kingdom or the world, the human world. You don't find overwhelming the new information you get to explore; history of the world, evolution of the human kind, ancient times and magic, the background of your ancestors, the different kinds of art. Who could have thought humans would be so blessed?

But what about now? What is happening now in the human world? Maybe there is a book to enlighten you further into their history.

There is one book that stands out. A book in the middle of the library. Questions cloud your mind as to what makes it so important, why is it in the centre of the library. It presents itself in all its glory, white pages with golden letters. Letters that start appearing as if the book is writing its own story. And it does indeed.

The book represents the story of the human world. Everything happening right now in the human world is getting written on the book.

"It's a spell." the man says

“Don’t they need help?” but instead of waiting for an answer, you let the book answer for you

With only a touch of your hand the book spoke to you, time stood still for a split second, your eyes rolled at the back of your head and you saw; you saw the pain, the agony, the fear, the manipulation, torn souls and evil. So much evil.. It is way too late to save some of the souls, they were far too deep into the evil surrounding them, minds full of thoughts they didn’t own, another being controlling their every move, mindless puppets ready to do their master’s deed.

It feels so dark and lonely inside their world.. Hope and love can be seen, kindness can be found into the smallest corners. But you see traces of the same energy everywhere, black drops tracing back to the same aura, it cannot be seen but you can feel it spreading steadily, slowly devouring the goodness from people. It is like broken memories, the book whispering to you, scenes unravelling in front of you and they look all the same while they are revealing you one and only being; a man who walks on this earth to bring misery. A fallen God.

He is suppressing who he is, power drips from his fingertips but you can tell. He is the one to blame for the doom brought upon the humans. Why is he in every memory the book is showing you? You can only catch glimpses of him, his face changing every time he moves from one human to another. This fallen God finds a new host to live in but none of them can survive long, he repeats the same thing over and over again until he feels satisfied with the pain he brings upon.

Once you believe the book is done with showing you past memories, it shows you one more; the fallen God looking at someone. He smirks and you can feel it, all kinds of evil thoughts consuming his whole being and it scares you. It is time to go.

“Found you”

A sweet voice, there is nothing sweet about the tone he uses but his voice sounds so sweet.

"The Gods never left, little girl. Humans started worshipping lifeless devices, poisonous intimacy, gold and silver to rule their life. Humans abandoned the Gods, so They abandoned them."

The fallen God is so close to you, caught on what is happening you let your guard down and he grabs the opportunity to touch you. Is it fear you feel? No. This feeling is.. Sadness. Agony. Regret. He runs his finger on his plump lips to taste the sweetness of your fear mixed with your tears of agony. Blood boiling within his veins but it doesn't stop him from teasing you for a little more before tearing your soul. Desires of any kind have his mind under control, his thoughts are a swimming pool ready to lure you into the depths of it, darkness and loneliness wanting to drown you and keep you under their wet blanket.

“They still want you. They still need your love”

So many voices live inside his mind, the more you look into it, the more you stare into his eyes, you find something so familiar and endearing. Why is it that you cannot find yourself to feel threatened by him?

“Call me crazy, but I think I was meant to know you” you manage to get out in a soft whisper, hand reaching out to touch his cheek

His eyes soften for a moment before he goes back to his blank stare, but in that moment you felt as if he understood what you meant.

“Jimin” is the last thing you remember saying

The man who woke you up from your deep sleep, is the one who dragged you out of memories the book was showing you. Memories would not be the most accurate way to describe what just happened but you have no other explanation.

“Nobody was ever able to do what you just did” he says

“What is this book?” you ask as you take a step back from the book

“This is the book of past and present” he tells you “it shows every single thing that is happening right now in the mortal world, humans living and dying, every decision they make, good or bad thoughts”

“Who was that man? The fallen God?” you ask him in curiosity

“Taehyung, it’s okay. I’ll let her know about it”

Yoongi carefully takes your hand into his, looking for any hint of disapproval in your eyes but you have none when it comes to him and your new friend Taehyung, a sense of security warms up your heart when they are in your presence. Yoongi and you sit down on the sofa right next to the fireplace, the soft noises of the burning wood bring back memories you try to suppress while Yoongi recounts events of the past, stories of how Jimin, the fallen God you met and other fallen Gods brought shame to the Kingdom.

When all is said and done, Yoongi heads back to the headquarters to attend a meeting with their leader Namjoon, leaving you with Taehyung who is the one responsible for you.

...

Taehyung is taking his sweet time to do his so called research on you, within a few weeks you already have the ability to consume enormous amounts of information; history, science, evolution. And this kind of growth is not meant to happen in such a short time, not when the gods and daemons themselves have to learn little by little. Humans are strange, humans are unpredictable and so are you. Are you a human? Are you a god? Are you a daemon?

His eyes follow your every movement; the way your lower lip twitches every time you read something that excites you, how your eyes squint in curiosity when a new information is found within the endless pages of the books you’re reading, how pretty your skin looks under the warm light of the fireplace.

“You better stop” he tells himself

"Could you please stop fidgeting?" you ask him without taking your eyes off your book

Taehyung cannot stop staring at you, the former interruption with the librarian left him unsatisfied and bothered. Obviously you are sending him no signals, nothing impure coming from your way but that doesn’t stop him from closing his eyes to imagine how good you would feel underneath him.

With eyes shut tight his thoughts can only lead to pure filth, marking your hot skin, your sweet smell only serves to drive him crazy. Nobody has ever touched you in that way before and he wishes to be your first. Taehyung opens his eyes to be met with the beautiful sight of you. Legs now spread to help him with any kind of relief, his cock restrained inside his painfully tight pants.

“What’s up?” his voice dropped an octave and you can feel his eyes piercing through your skin

“What’s good?” another question follows but you're unsure on what he refers to

Unknowingly you trace your eyes back to him, Taehyung touching his soft lips, index finger brushing his lower lip and you cannot help but trace his every movement. A new feeling blooms inside your chest making the next thing he says so easy to follow and accept.

"Come here, angel"

The aroma coming from his aura is unbearably sweet, intoxicating. His long, curly hair falls in front of his sharp eyes, hands now placed in each of his thighs and it surprises you how breathtakingly deceitful looks are. You could have mistaken him for a devil if you didn't already know he is a God.

Lust.

The smell of lust is oozing out from every part of his body, he is so unnaturally warm when you touch his face. Taehyung grabs your hand softly, no words come out of his mouth when he pulls you in one sharp movement and places you underneath him.

"Do you trust me?"

The mixture of his scent with the warmth of his body offer nothing but safety, body relaxing under his weight. The hair at the back of your neck raises in every soft breath he takes, feeling so sensitive as it hits your skin.

"Please tell me you trust me"

Goosebumps awaken on your skin when his lips brush at the shell of your ear and you softly nod to his words. You are scared to answer, afraid your voice will betray you. You wouldn't have let him touch you, be so close to you if you didn't trust him. It doesn't feel wrong to be here with him, to feel him press his cock on your thigh.

You are not that clueless about sex, neither are you experienced. It doesn't matter because you want to know, you want to feel what those humans felt when they sold their souls to the lust demons. It must be so good, so heavenly good for them to sell the most valuable thing they have, their soul.

With his teeth grazing on your neck you close your eyes, a sound you have never made before leaves your lips and Taehyung immediately freezes. Taehyung's hand comes to wrap around your neck, fingers softly pressing against your throat but in a way that only serves to drive you crazy.

"You drive me mad. You haven't done anything but a sound and I am already so hard for you."

Taehyung roughly bites on your ear this time and you feel your panties sticking on your folds, your empty core in desperate need of attention.

"Let me take care of your every need, let me taste you"

With your clothes being a barrier anymore, Taehyung praises you, taking over you, senses overwhelmed as he is buried between your legs. His tongue is attacking your clit relentlessly, one of his digits inside your pussy and you can already tell why everyone is so easily blinded by lust.

The sounds of your moans fill up the small of the room, his fingers entering your mouth to silence you. Your instincts tell you to suck around his fingers, to lick them and you are glad you do. Taehyung groans, your actions cause him to speed up his finger, curling it inside your pussy to attack that soft spot that has you moan around his fingers.

Your back is arching, shivers welcoming a new wave of pleasure and you can sense your whole body falling apart. He knows what he is doing to you, acting so innocent as he wipes your cum off his face.

"You are dripping wet, angel"

The smirk on his face and his full blown out eyes have you spellbound, you haven't caught your breath yet from your first orgasm but you want more, you need more.

"Please, I want more"

Taehyung doesn't need more than those words to oblige, cock lining on your entrance, his need to feel you raw may cause him problems later on but he doesn't care, mind only filled with you. Thoughts of you. The sounds you make only for him.

"Look into my eyes" he says, voice laced with love and you know you won't regret having him be your first

You cannot close your eyes, the euphoric feeling of bliss overwhelms your senses and in that moment he is taking over you, he has your heart in his hands. A moment only the two of you will ever share, a memory you will forever treasure.

…

The night sky looked so beautiful from the balcony outside the library, your favourite place for the past few weeks now and you cannot wait until the moon rises. For the moon to be in its full bloom, to smell the night wind carrying the fragrance of the flowers that prettily decorate the garden.

“Why are you always up so late?” a familiar voices stops your train of thoughts

“Yoongi” you say with a smile forming on your lips

“World's asleep” you add “more room for thoughts”

Yoongi nods, quietly coming your way. Having him so close feels comforting, you had such a long day, the effort you put to trace Jimin again, the fallen god Yoongi and you saw in the human world, is wearing you down. But to have Yoongi share this beautiful night sky with you, a new feeling starts blooming in your heart. He has been supportive, he has been guiding you carefully into the human world and both inside his world, the community the Gods have. He is so good to you..

Like a dream come true, you find yourself able to breathe again, your heart coming at ease. Is it natural to feel the same way for more than two people? This feeling inside your heart is the same one you feel when you are around Taehyung.

But now you want to hold Yoongi closer, to feel him closer; with no thoughts on your mind you turn around and kiss him. What surprises you is not how easily Yoongi accepted your kiss but the way Taehyung found a way to creep inside your mind. Taehyung is filling your mind with thoughts of him, Yoongi is slowly making his own way to your heart and you cannot choose who owns your heart.

Every love story is a ghost story. Maybe you don’t have to choose.. Maybe you have found your ghosts.

#ksmutclub #yoongi fanfic #taehyung fanfic #yoongi smut #taehyung smut #yoongi x reader #taehyung x reader #bts fanfic #bts smut #yoongi scenarios #taehyung scenarios #bts supernatural au #yoongi #taehyung #dbn hs

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lambourngb · 4 years

Text

This Hard Lie

Fic prompt: “Just trust me.”

THIS HARD LIE follows THIS HARD TOWN an AU that explores what Michael’s life might change if Alex hadn’t joined the Air Force. It’s not necessarily an easy rosy life . This part includes the following warnings : Kyle/Michael, sexual content, a homophobic slur directed at Michael by an OC, Michael’s cynicism about the US military and some more plot musings. This is finished in full on AO3.

***

[UNDER the cut because it starts NSFW]

There was something intensely meditative about sucking cock for Michael.

Opening his mouth wide past comfort into an ache of effort, the firm press on his palate mixing with the surge of salt on his tongue, the mess of saliva and pre-cum smearing sloppily over his face as he dropped into a state where listening to his partner’s enjoyment was the only thing that registered. The world slipped away as he took measured breaths, his mind finally quiet, until all that was left was Michael being good.

Michael could just be a vessel to fill with pleasure instead of pain.

Normally skating his hand down to gently squeeze and massage his partner’s testicles was enough to get that hitched-curse and uncontrolled jerk in his mouth that signaled an impending orgasm. The draw and shiver of warm pliant skin before the warm, thick release in his mouth, except that was not happening.

After a firm swipe of his tongue against the slit, rubbing against the edge of the frenulum, another foolproof trick in his experience that garnered nothing more than a sigh and an absent clutch of the hand on the back of his neck, Michael pulled away abruptly to stare up at Kyle Valenti’s face.

“Wait, why’d you stop?”

Michael wiped his mouth with the back of his hand rocking back on his heels, his voice rough from his activities, “‘Cause you don’t seem to be into this? Which I gotta admit, that’s a mood killer for me and slightly hurtful to my pride.”

Instead of arguing with Michael over his observation, Kyle sighed guilty and shifted to pull up his lightweight shorts over his erection, signalling the close of the encounter. “Sorry, you know you’re great at that, it’s me. My brain,” he gestured to his head with a twirling motion with his long-skilled surgeon hands.

Michael couldn’t help but follow the motion with interest, he had always been a sucker for a set of strong, confident hands.

Alex had hands like that.

Fuck, Michael pushed that thought away like he did every time it slipped in uninvited and collapsed next to Kyle on his expensive leather couch. It’s been two years since Michael’s last glimpse of Alex, no contact from him outside of the impersonal birthday and holiday cards that had begun after Michael mailed his ‘I’m sorry I dropped in your life’ letter. They’ve officially been apart longer than they were together and still Michael couldn’t stop thinking of Alex daily.

Perhaps Kyle wasn’t the only one distracted tonight.

“Listen, I won’t bore you with the details and break our agreement here,” Kyle continued, knocking his shoulder against Michael’s. “I can still do you here-”

“‘Do me’, so romantic, Valenti. I think I’ll pass on getting a disinterested handjob, thanks.” Michael rolled his eyes at the offer and reached for the bottle of water from the coffee table to swish around his mouth before swallowing for effect.

It was Kyle’s turn to roll his eyes but fondly. “I could give you an absent-minded blowjob instead?”

Their eyes met. Kyle lifted his well-groomed eyebrow as Michael pretended to be seriously tempted with a stroke of his stubbled jaw in turn before they both broke and started to laugh helplessly.

If someone had told a seventeen-year-old Michael that one day he would be laughing with Kyle Valenti in his high-end, ultra modern condo after a failed conclusion to a ‘U up?’ text, well he probably would have been interested in the type of pharmaceutical high that would have made that possible. Hell, the Michael of a year ago wouldn’t have believed it either but that was before he met the post-med school Kyle that returned home to Roswell.

It had started one night at the Wild Pony, where Michael frequented more and more for the scraps of news about Alex from Maria. A practice she did her best to discourage, repeating her policy of ‘I don’t play messenger between exes’, which had given Michael hope that maybe Alex had asked about him. He had been one beer in, contemplating a second when Jake Frederick’s sneer had interrupted.

“I hear they’re finally opening a place that caters just for the fags in town.”

That word, not unfamiliar to Michael in Roswell, brought his shoulders up to his ears. Its ugliness brought back so many memories of how it was whispered, spat, scrawled, or just strongly implied whenever Michael and Alex had ventured outside the safety zone of the Crashdown or their own four walls. The Wild Pony once Maria had bought it was eventually added to the list, though some patrons still thought otherwise.

On cue, Maria’s voice barked from behind the bar, “Jake, you use that word again in here and you’re banned for life!”

There was a titter of amusement as Jake’s crowd of admirers teased him for the call out, before an artificial apology was offered in return. After a moment though, Michael could hear him perfectly well pick up his conversation, “it’ll be wall to wall fake wigs and limp wrists there, probably playing nothin’ but Alex Manes’s shitty music.”

The laughter echoed, and Michael started to reach for his wallet to pay for his beer. It was clear that tonight’s entertainment was focused on Michael. He thought at this point, without Jesse Manes drumming up hate for his son, that these bullies would finally move on to something new. Unimaginative pricks.

“Hey Guerin, you off to join your people at that gay bar?” Jake called, noticing Michael’s departure. “Gonna find yourself someone new to ruin now that your boy left you?”

Closing his eyes as he swept his hat over his curls, Michael said a silent apology to 17-year-old Alex for breaking his promise on violence. He turned, noting a few new faces gathered at the table, probably guys from the base with their short haircuts, along with a silent Wyatt Long. For all of Wyatt’s racist blustering, Michael knew he had a queer cousin in Austin. Still, Michael pasted a bright and fake smile, “those are my people at Planet 7, Jake, but how many times do I have to tell you? I’m not gay.”

“My mistake, buddy. Must have been all the cocksucking you do that threw me off.”

Michael laughed harshly, ignoring the movement in his peripheral, and stepped closer, his smile growing darker, “I’m bisexual, which means, not only will I feed you my dick, Jakey, but I’ll give it to your sister too. Just not at the same time. Unless you’re into that sort of thing? You look like your parents were into it…”

The slam of chairs falling backward as Jake jumped to his feet at the insult. After that it was more blurs of movement, jostling, and chaos as Maria shouted in the background about the police while Michael traded punches indiscriminately. At one point he realized he had help against his back, as the fight spilled outside into the cold, raw New Mexico night.

Dark spiked hair, a nice set of shoulders that gave Michael an inch or two of height advantage was all he could register in the melee. It wasn’t until the breaking of glass that was shortly echoed by the boom of a shotgun that the fight dropped into stillness and Michael recognized his unsolicited ally as Kyle Valenti.

Maria stood next to the door of the Wild Pony as a lone siren picked up in the background, “All right you assholes, you’re all out of here. Drop your weapons and fucking leave before I have the sheriff lock all of you up!”

“Gotta admit, you’re kind of the last person I expected to be fighting a bigot,” Michael commented, dabbing at a fiercely bleeding cut on his eyebrow. “Kinda remember it the other way around in high school.”

Kyle smiled humorlessly as he caught his breath, grabbing Michael’s shoulder to pull him away from the bar toward the parking lot as the sirens picked up volume. “Well, I remember you as being some sort of secret genius in high school. Taking on five guys seems kind of dumb.”

“It was just four guys, Wyatt wasn’t gonna involve himself or else Maria would have called his uncle and aunt on him.”

“Oh well, if it was just four guys, I should have stayed at the bar, I wasn’t finished with my drink yet,” Kyle quipped sarcastically, as he kept pulling Michael through the parked cars. “You’re welcome by the way.”

“Fuck off, I didn’t ask for help-” He shook off Kyle’s hand, his previous pliancy in following Kyle at an end as he bristled with indignation. Whatever strange amnesia over what a dick Kyle Valenti was in general and to Alex in particular passed at the prod for gratitude. “And my damn truck is over there-”

“Can you even see out of that eye? Yeah, I didn’t think so,” Kyle answered for him and dug out a pair of keys from his pocket as an expensive sounding unlocking chirp echoed. Of course. The dark blue BMW in the sea of modest pick up trucks and domestic sedans was his. At least it wasn’t the bright red Camaro from graduation, that car had too many associations with it for Michael. The hatch popped open on the X1, Kyle leaned in to pull out a towel to toss to Michael. “I’ve got my bag here and I could use the practice in sutures, so?”

Normally the idea of a doctor touching him at all was enough to instill a mix of dread and panic, but Michael didn’t see anything in Kyle’s face other than genuine concern mixed with exasperation. The open air of the parking lot with police on the way seemed like a bad idea. “All right, free medical care is hard to turn down, but I don’t want your dad arresting me, so can we-”

“Your place, it is.” And then as they drove in silence, with Michael still holding the towel against his cut, Kyle spoke gently in the dark. “I was a dick in high school, I was even a dick in college. But then some things changed for me, um, so I’m glad Roswell is getting a gay bar.”

“No, no, high school homophobe does not come out as gay, not happening, no way-”

“No not gay,” Kyle cut his eyes over to the passenger seat, giving Michael a quick up-and-down appraisal. “Just learned the package isn’t really that important to me. I like sex. Med school was a small pool of sleep-deprived, competitive people and I stopped caring if they had a dick or not. I also learned a lot about anatomy.”

The appraising look, the hint of good-natured humor in Kyle’s eyes, and his suggestive words were all enough to push Michael to grunt, “changed my mind, your place instead.” He never took anyone back to his Airstream as a rule.

And that was the beginning of Michael’s almost-friends, only-benefits relationship with Kyle Valenti. It revolved around those unsaid rules from the first night, only at Kyle’s condo, and rarely did they engage in anything more substantive than talk about sports or the general stupidity of Roswell. The sex was easy, the conversation stayed light enough to fill the gaps of loneliness, and if Michael had been a different species, he might have considered it the start of something more permanent.

If only Max had been wrong. If only Michael hadn’t fallen in love with Alex as a teenager. The first year after Alex left had been devoted to trying to make it on his own financially and getting the down payment together for the Airstream. The next year he had tortured himself with believing that now that Alex was successful, he’d come back to Roswell, to him. Then after Isobel’s wedding and that trip east, Michael had to accept the truth.

Dating in the years since, women and the occasional out man, had changed nothing for Michael. It was still Alex filling his every odd thought, and especially his fantasies at night. Doomed indeed as Max warned him, to drift through life enjoying the surface companionship of others but never anything more.

The reminder of what he did have currently, good sex and the ability to laugh with someone, loosened some of the private rules that Michael had had kept to with Kyle. “So, I mean, you don’t have to, but if you want to talk about what’s on your mind, you can.” Michael tipped his head back against the couch to meet Kyle’s surprised expression. “It would make me feel better about my sexual prowess, okay? You nodding off during a blowjob hurts man.”

“Well, as long as it makes you feel better,” Kyle teased sarcastically before accepting the offer made. “I was thinking about my dad.”

“Kinky, but gross, dude.”

“Ha ha, funny.”

“Sorry, sorry, that was wide open.” Michael nudged his shoulder more seriously, “what about your dad?”

“He’s been acting weird lately. I actually thought he was drinking again,” Kyle waived his hand restlessly, “it’s an open secret my dad has been on and off the wagon. Most cops have a close relationship with booze.”

The Roswell circle of repeated gossipry was wide enough to reach Sanders, customers often needing to make some sort of conversation as they waited, so Michael was pretty familiar with the rumors about Jim Valenti. Most of them he ignored, like the infidelity whispers, because he could still remember the man showing up to Mimi Deluca’s house to offer Alex that first steady job in the face of Jesse’s smear campaign. An act that Jesse had retaliated by sponsoring a challenger to the next year’s sheriff’s race.

For a police officer, Michael cut Jim Valenti some slack in the character department. He also wasn’t a bad boss according to Max, though his brother’s opinion didn’t sway Michael as far as Jim’s act of kindness to Alex had.

“You said you thought he was drinking again, but he’s not?”

“Well, my other suspicion was he was cheating on my mom.” Kyle met Michael’s concerned glance with a tired, dark smile. “Yeah, not a great thought to have, but he’s been disappearing a lot. Acting paranoid too, he always carries but I noticed he kept his sidearm on him during Sunday dinner. Like he’s afraid someone is going to show up and attack him.”

“You think he was cheating with someone else who was married?”

“I can’t really figure out what’s going on with him, other than he’s lying. But I followed him today, and he didn’t go to work, he drove a hundred miles north.”

Michael blinked in reluctant admiration, “I guess you pick up stuff with two cops as parents.” He racked his brain for something more to say, but his conversational skills had never been gifted to begin with outside of charming someone into bed. “Um, in my experience, cheaters stay close to home. Like coworker, favorite waitress, etc. it’s definitely weird for your dad to drive that far for a little something on the side.”

“That’s the thing, he’s all secretive but it's over something nostalgic. I followed him to some old prison my grandfather worked at in the 60s called Caulfield. It’s been shut down for years. I can’t figure it out, and short of asking him directly I doubt I will.” Kyle shook his head again before inching closer to Michael on the couch, with a slow growing knowing smile, “So now you know where my head was when-“

“When I was trying to give you head?” Michael snarked playfully, picking up the change in mood easily. Apparently talking it out loud had released whatever mental block Kyle had been struggling with before. The moment reminded him of how he used to hold Alex at night, listening to him vent over the various customers in his day before he was able to wind down enough to enjoy any intimate touch.

Fuck. He was thinking about Alex again.

This time he let Kyle pulling him into a kiss distract him fully from the renewed spiral of remembrance. His body warmed slowly as Michael shut down his brain from wandering east again to Nashville.

***

“Your soul and your heart have been in such opposition,” Mimi murmured, holding Michael’s palm between hers as she gave him a reading at the Wild Pony. It was his way of distracting her while Maria gently soothed two customers that had received a deep lecture about the sins on their souls from her mother. To be fair, Michael could tell from their demeanor and close cut hair that each of them had served or were actively serving in the military, so Mimi Deluca probably wasn’t too far wrong from the mark with her lecture. “I know you’re a traveler, child, but this pull north and east could tear you in two.”

“My heart hasn’t been mine for a while,” Michael replied truthfully. Once he and Alex had moved in with one another, the small family of outcasts with Alex, Maria and Mimi had expanded to include him for a while. And once upon a time it had boasted more members like Rosa and Liz, but his sister’s actions had trimmed those branches in one way or another.

“That’s the east, and while it travels ever closer to you, you’ll never get that back. But north though, if you follow that path, perhaps your soul will find peace.”

“Not sure what I’d do with peace.”

“Maybe pay your bar tab once in a while?” Maria injected as she moved back behind the bar with a gentle hand on her mother’s shoulder. “And not starting a fight in my bar would also be a good start.”

“Come on, Deluca, I have been a very good boy since that last go-around Jake. I swear that kid is a closet case with how badly he seems to want me to lay hands on him,” Michael protested weakly. Truly he had only bent his old promise to Alex a handful of times in the last year and all of them because the Fredrickson kid had brought up Alex in some way. The comments about his job, clothes, and cheap taste in booze could all be ignored, but one word about Alex’s music or success and the gloves came off.

“Maria! Don’t be so mean to Michael, his people aren’t designed to live like this, divided in two.”

Despite the chill from Mimi’s words, Michael knew that Maria didn’t take her mother’s talk too seriously with how often she peppered her premonitions with nineties alien blockbuster movies. She always interpreted her mother’s words as being a romantic metaphor about a lost love.

Suddenly Mimi straightened, looking over Michael’s shoulder. “I guess good can come from evil dying.”

In the mirror over the bar, he caught sight of what Mimi saw. A grip closed over his heart, squeezing it until the fluttering motion ceased under the force as he watched Alex Manes move confidently through the crowd toward the front where Michael was with Maria. His head was shaved close up the back of his head, leaving a long, silky dark fringe over one eye and his face was bare of makeup and piercings. The black shirt sporting long sleeves made of crisscrossed fabric over a pair of tight black jeans looked more at home on Rodeo Drive than Roswell but the completely indifferent look on Alex’s face showed he didn’t care about fitting in to the locals bar.

Fuck it was so quintessentially Alex’s attitude from high school, before the shed, that Michael was having trouble remembering it had been at least six years.

“Alex Manes, in my bar!” Maria squealed, vaulting herself over the bar in one smooth motion to cross the distance to throw herself into his arms.

Michael’s mouth was dry as he picked up his drink to take a sip, feeling awkward and out of place. Should he offer his hand to shake? A hug? Could he pretend to be European and kiss Alex’s cheeks? What were the rules on an ex that he traded Hallmark cards with now?

A soft cool touch pulling him back from his spiraling thoughts to look up into Mimi Deluca’s clear and focused gaze, “he sings in the wrong key every night, but you know his song. You’re a good boy, you’re not rotten inside like your sister.”

Before he could do more than blink, Alex was suddenly next to them, looking at Mimi’s hand covering his curiously before smiling at Michael. “I would have thought you’d be tired of this place, after all those nights waiting for me to finish my shift?”

“Alex,” Michael took a deep breath, floundering for something more than the obvious, “you’re here. In Roswell.”

“It wasn’t really my idea,” Alex admitted gently, before taking a seat next to him. He reached smoothly for Michael’s glass to steal a drink from before making a face. “Oh man, it’s been a long time since I’ve had Crown Royal.” He fished out an expensive wallet to pull a crisp hundred dollar bill from a stack to lay on the bar, “Maria, please rescue him from this with some good tequila.”

Mimi gave Michael a significant look of encouragement before interjecting, “Maria, honey you should let these two get reacquainted, Alex isn’t going anywhere for a while. Jesse is dying, but he’s not dying today or even tomorrow.”

Michael jerked his head toward Alex, “that’s why you’re here? It’s your dad?”

A small smile of satisfaction twitched over Alex’s mouth before he nodded in confirmation, “Brain tumor. Doctor says he might have a month, maybe less. I’m only here because my brother threatened to go to the press if I didn’t show and my agent is worried about how that would look.”

“Oh.” Michael picked up his fresh drink, a high end alcohol he could have never dreamed of ordering for himself, out of a need to do something with his hands to keep from reaching out to touch Alex. “If I said that sucks for you that he’s dying, I’d be lying, but I’m glad you’re here.”

“Yeah, it’s good to see you too, Michael.” Alex clinked his glass against Michael’s softly, “I’ve been back for a couple of days, this was the first time I could get away actually. The movies all lied you know, cancer isn’t this quiet death. My dad is ranting and raving all night long, about aliens, about being murdered, about all sorts of random shit about Roswell and the crash and hands that kill. Your name has kept coming up too. I should record it and put it on youtube, make him famous too.”

***

#guerinweek20 #mgweek20 #malex #malex fic #guerenti #the lost decade #au after the shed #there will be a happy ending #angst first #pining idiots in love #roswell new mexico

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thepulta · 3 years

Text

Part 1

For @lettuce-shoes. This just brained me when she mentioned Adult Finds a Child because I wanted their friendship to happen in the storyline but it never really did and there is a WHOLE AU that could definitely happen around it if Skyfarer-Proper never happened. Skyfarer could happen maybe and the dynamic would have been completely different. But mostly I don’t see Skyfarer happening, it just would have been this catastrophe of three sisters and that’s this Listlie AU.

-=-

Arthur’s instructions had been very simple. Go to Port Prosper, organize the Fairweather offices, meet Morgan, and escort her home to London.

Morgan had bitched about it because she “was seventeen and wasn’t a fucking baby thank you very much” but there’d been some light platitudes about separate cabins and travelling together finally and she’d fucked off to Leadbeater several months previously, mollified.

That was all fine. The offices were fine too at this point. It’d only taken a day to get the paperwork in order; some missing ledgers were behind the bookshelf. What the instructions did NOT include, however, were how to deal with getting framed as a parent.

The first red flag was the child that burst through the crowd. She must have seen the red hair, Westlie’s casual This is my Day Off because I’m not in London and Arthur can shove it look and beelined towards her. The second red flag was the constable that shoved over a man in pursuit. He looked angry.

The third red flag was the child screaming, “Mother!” with tears in her eyes, which was less of a red flag and more of a mobile red brick wall smacking Westlie in the face, which, coincidentally stopped her walking in stunned silence and the child slammed into her legs.

She was about six or seven with curly black hair pulled into a ponytail and big brown eyes. She had a very rough cotton dress on. It was questionably clean, but extremely untidy. Her sniffles threatened to overwhelm her as she looked up and a tear ran down her cheek. “H-he’s trying to arrest me!”

Trying to-

“EXCUSE ME.” The constable shoved past another person in the throng to reach them. He was huge, at least six foot with beefy hands and a well-oiled mustache. “SHE-” He reached them and Westlie instinctively felt something tighten in her as he loomed, pulling herself to her full height. “Excuse me, ma’am. You can turn that child over.”

“This is my mother!”

Westlie looked down at the child, brain reeling. She stared back up at Westlie with enormous frightened eyes.

She looked back up at the constable and somehow managed to clear her throat. “Why are you chasing her?”

He looked aghast. “She’s an orphan! Look at her! She stole a purse and needs to be returned to the orphanage immediately to be punished!”

The constable scowled and reached out his hands. “I’m not an orphan!” The child pushed back against Westlie’s legs, almost hiding behind them. “She’s my mother! Tell him to go away!”

“I- I-” The constable smelled like garlic and Westlie instinctively smacked his hand edging away from him as well when he edged closer. “Back off.” She stared down at the child. “Did you- did you take something?”

The child’s lip quivered. “I- I didn’t mean to.” The child paused. “-Mum.”

I hate this. Was Westlie’s instinctive thought. I am never going to be called mum. God, have I ever called Relia ‘mum’? I should apologize.

“Give it back.”

The child was already shaking a little bit when she huddled against Westlie’s skirts, but she started shaking in earnest at that point, but she obeyed. After a few seconds, tears started streaming down her cheeks and she produced a little coin purse that couldn’t have held more than 3 sovereigns at most. She held it up to Westlie who gently took it and offered it to the constable.

The constable snatched it, scowling. “I appreciate the cooperation, ma’am, but that’s proof she’s a fucking thief.” He sneered down at the child who shook harder. “You need to be in jail you little picker.”

He was getting pleasure out of scaring her, Westlie could see it on his face. He slid the purse into his jacket in a way that wasn’t entirely honest either and she had to wonder if those three sovereigns were going to get back to their owner. The whole exchange- him leering over the child who was terrified and scared witless and very clearly didn’t want to go back from wherever she had come from- so much that she would cling to an utter stranger for help- struck a chord with Westlie. Being out of London was like a breath of fresh air from Arthur’s looming and who was she to send this child back to whatever fucking hellhole she’d run from. Maybe the money had been to eat. It certainly didn’t look like she’d been fed well.

“Oh, fuck off.”

Westlie almost blinked in surprise at the venom in the tone. The constable certainly did.

“She is my-” Westlie barely managed to get the word out without choking. “-daughter and I appreciate your willingness to bring justice with the purse. Now kindly fuck off.”

He scowled harder and the leer pivoted to Westlie. She felt the usual ball of anger inside herself begin to flame and she instinctively puffed herself up to meet him, scowling back and tucking the child behind her. “Ma’am,” he spat the word. “The place she needs is a cell to know what she’s done.”

Westlie’s tone dripped sarcasm. “With every possible respect, Sir, she is under my supervision and I will discipline her myself for the trouble she’s caused Port Prosper. Come on-” she realized as she snatched the child’s hand she didn’t even know her name. “-girl.”

She stomped away from the constable, the girl stumbling after her a bit. She didn’t stop until they were away from the docks and a few streets closer to the offices. When it seemed safe enough, she ducked into a quiet alleyway and glanced back down at the girl. She was crying again. Westlie realized abruptly she’d been clutching her hand too tight. “I’m- I’m- I’m so sorry. Um-”

Westlie leaned down, cleared her throat, and offered the girl and handkerchief. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pull you like that. I’m so sorry. I-” she cleared her throat again, completely at a loss. “I’m sorry.”

The girl sniffed and scrubbed a bit fruitlessly at her tears. Westlie could get a better look at her face. “Where…. Where is your home?”

“Please don’t take me back!” There was another wail and burst of tears. The girl cringed away from her and Westlie felt something in her heart twist. “Please, please, please! I’ll do anything. Don’t take me back to the orphanage!”

“Hey- hey-” Westlie cleared her throat and shoved her hand in her pocket, wondering if there was going to be anything useful. A pencil and a five-pence. Not useful. “I- I’m not taking you back. Don’t worry. Are you ok? You look… are you hungry?”

The girl didn’t respond, she was looking at the dirty handkerchief in shock. “… I dirtied it. I’m sorry. I dirtied it.”

Westlie gently took it from her and the girl’s eyes snapped up to meet hers. “Hey, it’s ok. I’m not mad.”

She just stared at her with scared wide eyes.

“Do you want something to eat?”

“… food?”

“Right.” It came out a bit more impatient than Westlie expected and she reminded herself why she was never, ever going to have children. “Are you hungry?”

“Yes.” The girl sniffed and looked back down at the ground, her voice dropping low. “They don’t feed us dinner there… and I missed breakfast, and I thought-”

Westlie found herself straightening up, and somewhat returning to her normal self, trying to deal with things in a no-nonsense manner because that was what was expected and productive and reasonable. “Let’s get street buns.”

She strolled back out of the alleyway, not holding the child’s hand. She stumbled when the child ran and smacked into the back of her legs. She grabbed her skirt and clung to the side of it. “Hey- what are you-” Oh, she was scared. Westlie felt her heart soften a little again and she slowed down so the child could keep pace, literally holding onto her by one edge of the skirt.

It worked out well. The made their way to the office section where pushcarts lined the sides of the streets. There were more extravagant ones for sitting down; some with chicken being grilled with steam-spits that grilled and turned the chicken at the same time. The steamed buns cart was close to Fairweather though. Easy, simple, and cheap. Westlie tossed him the five-pence and ordered two pork buns.

They sat on the edge of the street outside of the office with the multitude of other office workers hurrying past. The child tore into her bun while Westlie munched appreciatively at it. When she looked over a few minutes later, the child’s whole bun was gone and she was staring awkwardly at the street. Her own was only half-finished. Fuck. Well. She had more money in her room above the office. There would be more pork buns. Westlie gently nudged the child who jumped. “Do you want the rest?”

The child looked scared. “N-no, I’m fine.”

“You can have mine. I don’t want it.”

Still the scared look. It reminded Westlie of Morgan tempting little dogs out or tossing feral cats bits of cheese until she could cuddle them and sneak them into the house. She held out the bun a little farther. “It’s ok.”

The child gave her one more worried look, then snatched the bun and hurriedly tore into it like it wouldn’t last a second longer. That was gone in under a minute.

Westlie cleared her throat after another minute. The girl looked like she was scared, but staying put because it seemed safe and she didn’t have anywhere else to go. “Do you have a name…?”

“’course I have a name.” The girl sniffed. “’m Lizzie.”

“Elizabeth?”

“My friends call me Lizzie.”

I’m not your friend, Westlie thought sullenly.

“Did you… live in the orphanage? -Lizzie?”

The girl recoiled into herself at the question like she was scared Westlie might send her back, or maybe if she thought she was judging her.

“I- I just want to know where you’re from. Do you have a family…?”

“… no family. Ran away from the orphanage.”

“Where… did you want to go, Lizzie?” And that question was genuine, because… Westlie couldn’t really summon the words. It was obvious she was terrified of the orphanage, but she was still brave enough to run away. Maybe not even running to something – and Westlie felt like if she ever ran away from Arthur, if it ever got really bad she would want to be running to something. And was it bad enough with Arthur to run away? When was bad enough? Not getting fed? Being punished? Was she frightened enough now?

Westlie jerked herself back to the present when Lizzie shifted to hug her knees. “… nowhere. I thought- I thought maybe I could ride on a train to New Winchester. But I don’t have money for a ticket.”

“Do you… have a place to spend the night…?”

“No.”

Part of her wanted to yell at the girl for being so unreasonable as to just run out on the streets without food, without money. What if she’d been kidnapped or anything worse that could happen to small girls. Westlie’s heart twisted a bit again. What could she do about it? What could she do about it? She didn’t know orphanages and obviously the one here wouldn’t do. She couldn’t send her back. That would be cruel. Were there people who could take her…? Maybe the workers….?

Westlie glanced over her shoulder at Fairweather. There were two workers on staff. One was just a boy younger than her and the other was the incompetent woman who’d dropped the ledge behind the shelf. She glanced back at Lizzie. She looked so small, clutching her knees to her chest, so unsure.

There was-

Westlie hated herself for thinking it.

There was her room.

It wasn’t large. It was just basic necessities. Arthur- and by extension, herself weren’t frivolous. But even if she slept on the floor, Lizzie would have a roof over her head. It’d be alright for the night. It’d buy her time to figure out what to do. Maybe the solution was just giving her money to head to New Winchester. That was a safe solution, wasn’t it?

Right.

Westlie stared at Lizzie and she suddenly found herself unable to talk. ‘Come home with me…?’ Fuck, that was so creepy. What was she trying to do? Lure her to a grave? Westlie cleared her throat. ‘Stay with me for the night?’ No-no, too pensive.

She opened her mouth, closed it, and struggled with it for a full minute before Lizzie looked up at her and the words finally came out. “I- If you want to stay. I mean. Stay with me. For the night that is. If you want. And we can figure out something in the morning. That seems like a good idea. You can’t go out there. You shouldn’t anyway. And we can- I don’t know. There’s dinner. More dinner- I mean, anyway. If you want dinner.”

Lizzie just watched her with wide eyes, but she didn’t say no.

Westlie stared back.

This was such a bad idea. Holy shit it was such a bad idea. Fuck. Goddamn. Why.

She shoved all the thoughts aside and stood up, staring down at the very small, very wide-eyed child. I’m a very small, very wide-eyed child, her mind grumbled. She held out her hand.

Lizzie hesitated for a very long minute, then her hand slowly crept up, ever so slowly. One second, two seconds. It almost touched Westlie’s fingertips. They both stared at each other, equally scared and uncertain, and then Lizzie grabbed it and held on, letting Westlie gently pull her to her feet.

#no edits we die like fitzroy #the crew of the pyrrhus #Liztlie AU

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artymcart · 4 years

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Can I hear more about your endverse AU? I’m WAY interested in it!!!

Suuuuuure! But be prepared, you opened Pandoras Box. Just to be clear, I know some facts for sure, some of this is still a WIP 🤷‍♀️

Oh and I deliver without an order because my brain jumps from one thing to another, so, let's start:

• The EndverseAU is an post apocalyptic event that happens AFTER ther defeated Chuck. The main group of survivors are Dean, Sam, Eileen, Castiel and Jack

• The fight against Chuck was a big event and they only could do it with help from The Empty, Death, Amara, Naomi and Rowena. They searched also for Michael but Naomi told them that he's gone, no one knows where.

• Chucks death was a cosmic mess and all Worlds he created and still existed, were merged together. So there are seemless borders to other worlds when you travel. Like, you drive on a road and it is sunny and green and in the next second you're in a World without roads and there are squirrels everywhere.

• The existing Worlds are all defect, they jump around which makes it impossible to say if you're save in the place you are.

• Jack lost a lot of his power during the fight with Chuck. He's mostly sleeping and does not talk anymore. Not a single word. No one knows why but Cas has some theories.

• The Gates to Heaven and Hell are closed and sealed. The group does not know about Rowena or Naomi. The Empty went to sleep again after it swallowed Chuck whole and Cas lost his grace.

• Everyone knows about the Winchesters. In every Universe. Because Chuck is a dick and "delivered" a Prophecy in which is told that "the last angels grace, made by God himself" will put everything in order again.

• Since Cas is the only angel still on earth, which grace was made by God himself, he's a target, which they discover fast because not even days after the big fight people try to get into the bunker and try to kidnap Castiel.

• At some point Team Free Will 2.0 + Eileen are trapped in the Bunker because a lot of people try to get into the building. Demons, Monsters we didn't know that they exist, people from different worlds which are desperate and angry. They camp around the Bunker entrances and just wait for our Team.

• So TFW 2.1 (Eileen is now part of them) pack everything they need and in a midnight plan, they leave the Bunker behind and Sam pulls the trigger. There is no Men of Letters Bunker anymore and no one who could follow them.

• There are a lot of places without running water, electricity or reception. Most Motels are closed and the Team sleeps in empty houses or in tents. Dean hates it. Everyone hates it. There are a lot of fights.

• After a while they find out that Jody and Donna are still alive and they hold a fort in Kansas. They try to save as many kids around as possible, especially these which parents are dead or got lost in Worlds.

• Cas feels like a liability, because he's the reason they are always on the run. If they find a plave to stay, not even a week later people find them and try to kill them. So in an jackass like DIY spell he extracts his own grace and hides it in a small magical veil. The spell leaves a wound on his throat which never heals fully and is always red, swollen and painfull. Castiel is in pain, always. But everything for the Winchesters. He gives the veil to Dean.

• They fight, a lot. There are days Sam and Dean have to get pulled away from each other. Bloody lips and blue eyes included. There are days in which Cas and Dean get into physical fights. There are days in which Jack makes cars exploding and glass shatters. There are days in which Eileen can't even sign fast enough to express her anger so she also shouts at them.

• It's time for more space. Dean does not want to leave the Impala behind but he also does not want to sleep in the woods anymore or has to fight for the backseat of his car. Also there's this thing with Cas and him (it's complicated) and a bit more privacy would help everyone to calm down a bit.

• Dean finds an old big school bus while they drive through Chicago. They settle in an small apartment for a few days and Dean makes himself useful. He collects parts and bits here and there and with some help from Cas, they transform the bus into an "tiny house".

• They leave the Impala behind. Dean parks it in an side alley in Chicago, sheds a few tears and hides her under trashbags. Maybe one day or so, maybe one day he comes back. It's that exact date he kisses Cas for the first time and means it. Now there's nothing left of their old lifes.

• Sam and Eileen are the ones who are responsible for food and all that they need to survive. If they hit a new town that's left behind, they separate: Dean and Cas search for car parts that are constantly needed for the bus and weapons. Sam and Eileen go on a raid for food and clothes.

• Cas has an painkiller addiction. Eileen is the one who keeps him in line, hides the pills and gives them in healthy doses to him. It's not always easy but Cas is glad that she looks out for him.

• Sam is fluent in sign language now, which is perfect when they scavenge hunt for food in dangerous areas.

• In an bigger city they hit jackpot and find a mall. Everyone takes as much as they can, Dean built in a lot of storage in the bus, and it's like seventh heaven. But the happiness goes fast as Sam and Eileen find an Baby in an not working freezer in a supermarket. The boy is still alive and there's blood everywhere(also a lot of dead bodies). Sam wants to leave him behind, Eileen calls him heartless and after an heated discussion, they take the baby with them.

• Dean is not happy about an extra mouth to feed. In the end he's the guy who get's up at night and goes with the little guy through his first teeth. Dean and kids man, Dean and kids.

• The relationship between Sam and Eileen is..complicated.

• The relationship between Cas and Dean is...complicated.

• Jack just rolls his eyes about it and takes the baby on walks if there's a fight.

• Dean misses porn and pie. Eileen misses long hot baths and running water. Sam would kill for an avocado and fresh fruit, also, for WiFi.

• Electricity ia tricky to get but when they find an empty home with running water and electricity, they stay there as long as they can.

• Laundry Day is, if they're not camping in a house, always at lakes or rivers.

• If you live together in a small space you get used to it that you see people in underwear, a lot. Also in summer the bus gets way too hot to stay inside or sleep in anything but undies.

• When Cas gets cabin fever, he sleeps on the roof of the bus.

• Sam has still everything he could take with him from Rowena. In an emotional speech at her "end" she gave him her legacy. All books and recipes she gave him, are hidden in an magical sealed box in the bus.

Aaaand that's it mostly :,D

Have fun with this monster of information!

And if you still have more questions or an art prompt for the AU, feel free to message me ❤

#supernatural #spn #spnfamily #spn fandom #endverseAU #dean winchester #castiel #sam winchester #eileen leahy #jack kline

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gingyboo · 3 years

Text

Mirror Mirror

A/N: Again many thanks to @booglebug

Description- Soulmates existed. People knew that much. Soulmates were rare, a handful in each generation, an unexplainable phenomenon that formed a bond closer than blood and more sacred than marriage.

Bucky finds his soulmate when he needs her most. Little does he know how much she needs him too.

(Soulmate au that slots pretty much in to the MCU but with soulmates. Set after TFATWS.)

Pairing- Bucky Barnes x OFC

Warnings- Mentions of violence and guns, but its mostly fluff, drama and angst.

This is a multi chaptered fic.

Please like, comment, reblog!

prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

Chapter 9

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

Chapter 10

It was surprisingly simple tracking down the dark-haired man. Redwing managed to find CCTV footage showing the man entering and exiting the same river side apartment. Bucky and Sam had been hauled up monitoring the surveillance from a cheap B&B on the out skirts of the city for the past two days. Bucky lay reclined on his twin bed, gently tossing his knife in the air and catching it. He flipped the compact mirror open and shut. He’d spoken to Nancy earlier, she’d explained a theory Shuri had over the depth of their soulmate bond and how she’d managed to both summon and call off the Winter Solider. It made him feel uneasy, that without meaning to Nancy had managed to bring him out, if she did it once she might do it again.

Sam entered the room and sitting on the edge of the adjacent bed. He pulled the suitcase out from under it.

“It’s go time co-worker, he just left.” Sam looked over at him, he pulled out the Captain America suit. He’d been tailing the man himself, found he visited a local restaurant in the evenings. More CCTV footage found this to be a nightly occurrence. Therefore, they’d hatched a plan. “you good for this?” Sam called over to Bucky. He forced himself out of his reclined position, rubbing a hand over his face and through his hair.

“Yeah, let’s do this.” His attempt at enthusiasm was poor, he was tired, he hadn’t slept well since that night and he could feel the tiredness in his bones.

“Focus Buck, remember who we’re doing this for.” Bucky shot him an exasperated smile. “There he is, come on.”

They made their way through Amsterdam silently, hugging the shadows, as swamis of cyclists made their way through the early evening traffic. The apartment was in an old building with an ornate terrace. On the front there was a concierge, so Sam and Bucky made their way up to the balcony, Bucky slipped the lock on the door with his knife and they made their way inside. It was a modest size apartment, with modern furnishings and a plethora of screens and files adorning a large desk in the corner. Bucky made his way through the rooms, gun drawn, there was a small hallway off which the living room they’d entered through branched. There was also a small bathroom, a kitchenette and a bedroom with only a covered mattress on the floor. Bucky stared at the mattress for a moment, it reminded him of Bucharest. Deciding they were alone he circled back to the living room. Sam was running his hands across the files on the desk.

“What’s he got there?” Bucky asked over his shoulder.

“If you let me finish reading, I’ll let you know.” Sam held up a hand concentrating. Bucky clenched his jaw impatiently. A minute later he spoke again, “it’s all in here,” he held up one of the files. “Transcripts of some sort, ‘Cartwright will join us if we take the girl.’ This must have been the communication Katima and her team intercepted.” Bucky looked in the file he showed him, his stomach twisted, there was a picture of Nancy, she looked younger, slightly softer round the edges, her hair shorter but her smile just a stunning. She stood by her father’s side, her brother, in full uniform, stood tall next to her mother. Larissa Cartwright was tall like her children, with darker hair and long manicured fingernails. “There’s more, conversations describing her movements and activities. Timings for Swan Lake at the royal opera house.” Bucky felt rage burning inside him, anger boiling in his head. He breathed deeply, Sam noticed his shaking breath. “It’s alright, we’ll bring him in, he won’t get to her.”

“I swear to god, any of them lay a finger on her, I don’t think I’ll be responsible for my actions.” A voice inside him roared in agreement, sending a shiver down his spine.

Shortly after their search of the files the front door clicked. Bucky spun round instantly, finger pressed to his lips and gun drawn again. Sam raised his eyebrows at him, exasperated. The light came on before the man entered the room, as he did Bucky pinned him straight against the wall.

“Hello again.” Bucky said increasing his pressure on the man’s neck with his vibranium arm. Up close the man looked younger and smaller. He was wearing a long black trench coat, his skin once again seemed too high a contrast against his almost black hair. His jaw was clenched tight and he looked defiantly up at Bucky.

“Back off you bastard!” He spat back in Bucky’s face, pushing against him to no avail. Bucky kicked out the back of his knees and the man fell at his feet.

“Who are you?” Bucky demanded. He grabbed the file from Sam shoving it under the man’s nose. “What do you want with Martin Cartwright?”

———————————————————————————————

“Your brother was a very private person.” Shuri noted, scrolling through the feed on her screen, “No social media what so ever, no pictures of him on any of his friend’s pages no dating apps either.” Shuri looked quite disappointed.

“That kind of stuff just wasn’t important to him, and Kit didn’t really have any friends towards the end.” Nancy admitted. “He was quite obsessed with becoming the perfect solider, he cut everyone out, including me.” Nancy remembered the change well, his every breath was for queen and country, he came back only for fleeting visits, Nancy never saw him out of his naval uniform. Her and Shuri had been looking for days for any record of his final mission, though they had found nothing yet, in fact they had found no records for him after he moved units. They found no record of any unit like that which Kit had described. Shuri had moved onto scanning the wider web. They were yet to find anything there either.

“Did he ever mention anyone he worked with at this training unit?” The princess asked. Nancy wracked her brains, Kit had barely spoken to her in those last few months. One of her biggest regrets was not pushing him harder, not having something to remember as the last thing they’d spoken of.

“No, sorry I can’t be more helpful.”

“It’s alright, it’s just very suspicious. There’s nothing here, it’s like he stopped existing the moment he joined this unit.” Shuri suggested.

“What if we looked for others, umm, similarly qualified individuals, who might have been recruited to this unit, if Kit’s record at that point is missing maybe his isn’t the only one. If there were others maybe they weren’t so secretive.”

“Good thinking, I’m on it.” She started typing frantically, records appearing and disappearing on the screen. “This program should find records with those similarities.” They both watched the screen with bated breath.

The search took a couple of hours, Shuri suggested Nancy train some more whilst they waited. She tended to like Nancy to train multiple times a day, always being monitored. Sometimes Nancy would catch her frowning at the statistics on her tablet.

“I’ve had a new theory.” She said this time after a few minutes watching Nancy running on the treadmill.

“Yeah, tell me it doesn’t involve more running.” Nancy said, catching her breath as she walked over to Shuri. In her hand she held out a set of wireless headphones.

“I thought we’d explore the subconscious theory, I think your capabilities might lie there.”

“Why are you so sure I have these capabilities?”

“You might not see it but there are things I’ve seen that would suggest you’re not so ordinary.” She waved away any further comment from Nancy and lead her towards the targets. “I want you to relax, listen to the music, and then, when you get the signal, throw the knife.” Nancy looked at her like she was crazy but Shuri only grinned, nodding enthusiastically. The music started in her ear and Nancy instinctively tensed up, Tchaikovsky, the same music from that night at the ballet. Nancy tried to relax, she breathed deeply closing her eyes. She stood there for many minutes, her breathing settled, and she twirled the blade lightly across her knuckles. She stretched her neck out from side to side. As the music built to its climax a loud klaxon sounded. Nancy’s hand shot out on instinct. The knife spun through the air and landed on the target, imbedded to the hilt, dead centre. Nancy’s head snapped round to Shuri who was clapping her hands.

“That was a fluke.” Nancy insisted.

“No, no it wasn’t, look.” She turned her tablet around, “See the rise in the subconscious, then when the klaxon sounded how it fell after. The subconscious is most active in dreaming or when relaxed. When you felt threatened, you threw the knife, no active thought.” They tested it again, first throwing knives, 5/5 hit the exact same spot. They also tested her running, much to her displeasure. With the music playing she reached higher speeds then ever before, Shuri mapped the progress on her tablet.

“But that doesn’t explain what happened with Bucky.” Nancy said after removing the headphones. Experiments over for the day, her and Shuri made their way back to the lab.

“You were asleep weren’t you, possibly dreaming, if you felt threatened perhaps your mind reached for the only weapon at your disposal.”

“And that was Bucky” Nancy froze for a minute, “I was dreaming, I was dreaming of Kit, I kept losing him.”

“You were distressed, the Winter Solider sensed that and reached through Bucky to stop the threat.” Shuri kept explaining, light building in her eyes from realisation as she pieced together the new information.

“Oh Bucky,” she croaked out. He thought he’d tried to kill her, he’d really been trying to save her, and worse because her head had asked him two. He would always try to protect her but if she had abilities like his, if she could control them, utilise them, then maybe she could defend herself. Maybe she could be more than just a socialite. Images formed in her head, her and Bucky fighting side by side. It wasn’t an unpleasant thought. A chance, a gift of sorts from destiny. She could defend the world, just like Bucky and Sam.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a notification on Shuri’s tablet. Match found. They looked between each other before approaching the large monitor.

The record was displayed on the screen.

Duncan Everett

Nancy didn’t recognise the name, but she knew the face. It was the dark-haired man.

#bucky barnes #the winter solider #sam wilson #captain america #mcu #mcu fit #soulmate

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miraculouslycool · 4 years

Text

Miraculous: The Princess and the Pauper

Prologue

Our tale begins in a faraway kingdom in the South of France, ruled by a just and fair king and queen. They were beloved by their subjects and because of their dedicated service to their kingdom, it flourished in prosperity, and was known as one of the most prominent trading and economic centres.

All was well, until one day the queen was struck with an uncurable illness which left her blind. Her husband, the king was devestated and worried, because they were expecting a baby, and feared that his wife's condition would pass on to his future heir as well.

The queen, however, was a bold woman, with nerves of steel. Her worry did not extend to herself, but rather to their daughter alone. She and her husband prayed fervently, and when their daughter was born, their fears were unfounded, because she was healthy and perfectly fine. Because the queen could not see her own daughter, the king decided to name their princess Kagami, after his wife's Asian heritage, and also because the name translated to 'Mirror'. It was a symbol of being able to see her daughter through the image that was conjured in her own mind.

Kagami was a spitting image of her mother. From the hair to the skin tone to the eye shape. Except for the fact that she inherited her light brown eyes from her father.

All was well, until the King was shot dead by assassins from their rivals - the Italians - not two years later. The entire kingdom mourned, but no one mourned more than the Queen, Tomoe.

Her husband was the only one who brought light into her dark world. He was the one who described things she couldn't see. He was the one who helped her cope with being blind. He was the one who excitedly described their daughter growing in front of their eyes. He was her other half. And now, he was gone. Murdered in front of her, and she couldn't even see how much he had suffered.

She was so grief ridden, she took upon her own personal vow that the same would never happen to her daughter.

She shut away her daughter from the world, and so, no one knew what the princess even looked like. Those who did come in contact with her didn't see her face, because it was always covered by a veil. The veil was Kagami's idea, out of respect for her mother. Neither she nor her mother attended any gala or party or celebration. Neither of them had their potraits painted. The palace's gates were left closed for Kagami. If it wasn't for the queen putting her grief aside and throwing herself into working for her kingdom, you would have believed there was no sign of living existence in the royal castle. It was like they were ghosts - you knew they were there, but you couldn't feel or see them.

Princess Kagami grew up, and was trained and polished and poised in every way possible. Her mother made sure of that. She was trained in martial arts as well. She did not even let her instructors see her face - for when she practiced, she wore a mask that covered the top half of her face. This was frowned upon by many of the members of the royal court, especially the royal advisor, Gabriel Agreste. But Tomoe had raised her daughter well.

'No matter what, your duty to the kingdom comes first, but never, ever forget to remain true to yourself.'

That was advice Kagami heard on a daily basis. And it never failed to touch her heart.

-------

In one of the poorest sectors of the kingdom's capital, a baker and his wife welcomed their beautiful baby daughter, whom they named Marinette.

Who was, coincidentally, born on the same day as the Princess herself. While the entire kingdom celebrated, Tom Dupain and his wife Sabine Cheng were huddled in their cold shack from the winter, but their happiness was in no way diluted. The warmth in their hearts that their little bundle of joy brought was more than enough.

As happy as their daughter made them, they were also worried. They had another mouth to feed, and they had spent their last bit of money from their failing bakery into hiring a midwife.

Sabine suggested that they borrow from Andre Bourgeois, one of the richest men in the country, and in return offer their services in one of his many businesses, which included the largest bakery and confectionery in the kingdom.

Tom was a proud man, but when it came to his family, he was ready to sacrifice it. He borrowed a large amount of money, and in return worked long and hard at the flour mills and bakeries. Every time he borrowed extra, his working hours would increase. Sabine pitched in as well as soon as their daughter was a toddler.

They never got back any salary, and no matter how long and hard they worked, their debt just never seemed to be paid in full.

Their family's struggles did not improve. Sabine died of pneumonia when Marinette was only eight years old. Marinette and her father were devestated, but they couldn't afford to be. The day after her mother's funeral, Marinette tearfully joined her father at work, somehow putting herself through school as well.

It seemed like the universe's bad luck was directed at Marinette, because she also lost her father when she was 18 years old to brain tumor. Marinette quit her last year of schooling to save more money for the necessary treatment, but it was incurable. Her father could only be stabalised for about three months, before he passed away too.

Marinette was a talented baker, but she couldn't bring herself to enjoy it when Bourgeois and his stuck up daughter never paid any of the workers. No, what she really wanted, was to become a fashion designer. She wanted to be the head of her own business, she wanted to show and share her wonderful creations with the entire world. Because Marinette was also a gifted seamstress as well.

But that could be nothing but a wistful dream. She had no resources,no connections, no funds for her capital, and more importantly, a mounding debt that just seemed to be growing day by day.

Marinette was a dreamer. Everyone told her that. From her best friend Alya, to her childhood bully and boss, Chloé Bourgeois. Her father had always supported her dreams, but he had never been able to fulfill them.

A mountain load of debt and interest was holding her back. And she could have disregarded it, told herself that didn't have to stop her dreams.

But Marinette loved her parents. And she learnt a thing or two from their own life experiences. Her father always wanted to be a baker, but her mother wanted to be an opera singer. Sabine's dreams were shattered when she had her daughter, but she didn't let it get in the way of her dedication to her family.

And that was why Marinette put aside her dreams and threw herself into her duty of her ridding herself and her parents' of their debt. Because family always came first. No matter what.

Hi, everyone! This is, obviously based off of the Barbie movie, which was honestly a huge part of my childhood. I have changed a few things here and there in the plot, which you will see as the story progresses. But for now, there are no songs,no superheroes and Serafina and Wolfie don't exist in my AU, even as Plagg and Tikki. The only kwamis I will mention are Nooroo and Duusu, but they are humans and are Gabriel/ Preminger's sidekicks Nick and Nack. Idk who's who, lol, so Nooroo is the slightly smarter one, and Duusu is the dumb blond.

@mysticmiraculer @chronicallylatetotheparty @beautymercurydragon @notall2gether @multimousemari @miraculousgrl @maximumjinx @fluffybreadd @disneyvamps

If you want to be added to the taglist, please PM me!

#Miraculous Ladybug #my fics #princess and the pauper au #lukagami #Adrienette #adrien #Marinette #luka #kagami

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aethelar · 4 years

Text

All the world’s a game

And Izuku’s the main player. A My Hero Academia AU where Izuku has a gamer quirk.

Izuku Midoriya’s abilities started developing when he was three years old, marking him as one of the eighty percent majority that had a quirk. They didn’t give any sign that they’d started, of course; no small objects flying towards him, no fire hiccoughing out when he sneezed. Nothing obvious at all in fact, but quietly behind the scenes, his quirk developed.

“An invisible quirk,” the doctors called it, a year later, when Izuku’s x-rays came back free of extra toe joints. “It’s possible it has an obscure activation criteria, or an effect which hasn’t been noticed yet.” This particular doctor pulled a rusty but at least somewhat sincerely sympathetic face at Izuku and cautioned him, “You may never find out what your quirk is, I’m afraid.” He laughed, then added as though he couldn’t resist the pun, “Invisible quirks can be very hard to see.”

“Shows what he knows,” Kacchan scoffed when Izuku faithfully relayed the explanation. “If you were invisible you’d be impossible to see. Stupid old man.”

“I don’t think that’s what he meant,” Izuku said, pushing himself into a jog to keep up with the taller boy. He ran, as he always did, for precisely seven seconds, then walked for four, then ran for seven, then walked, and so on.

“Keep up,” Kacchan yelled from several paces ahead.

Izuku ran for another seven seconds at top speed before his feet slowed stubbornly to a four second walk.

“Maybe,” he theorised to Kacchan several months later, “maybe it’s a brain quirk.”

Kacchan wrinkled his nose. “What, like a super nerd? That’s lame.”

“Izuku’s super smart thought,” Tsubasa said thoughtfully from his other side. “He’s really good at homework.”

“That’s even lamer. How is homework going to help him be a hero?”

“I don’t think it’s homework.” Izuku frowned, trying to find the words to explain something he wasn’t even sure existed. “It’s like… I always know where I am if I’ve been somewhere, but I have to actually think about it first. And I don’t know how I know but I do, you know?”

“Oh, that’s a quirk?” Tsubasa asked, wings shifting in excitement. “I do that too! I thought I just recognised places. You think I have two quirks?”

“Yes, I mean, no, but - as in, I think I have a map? In my head? Of where I am now and where I’ve been before. But a moving map, not a paper one. And I fill it in when I go places.”

“A map?” Tsubasa’s wings drooped. “Oh. I can’t read maps. They don’t make sense.”

“Maps aren’t quirks and you’re both idiots,” Kacchan said. He pushed himself off from the wall and landed with a harsh thud on the ground, palms sparking with just enough force to slow his descent, and Tsubasa and Izuku scrambled to follow. Tsubasa opened his wings into a controlled fall with a graceless but effective flap, while Izuku turned around and began the lengthy process of climbing down hand over hand.

“Slow,” Kacchan complained. The fact that he couldn’t scale the same wall didn’t seem to occur to him, nor the fact that it was a smooth stone, entirely lacking in footholds or anything to grip.

“Sorry,” Izuku said, dropping the last step and waiting the required four seconds before he was ready to run. He was up to eleven seconds now before he needed a rest, but climbing was harder - he could manage six, and never on glass, under an overhang, or in the rain. Six seconds of going vertically up pretty much any non-smooth surface, but then his arms and legs would seize up and he’d go tumbling to the floor until his required four seconds of rest were up.

(He’d learnt the hard way.)

“I’m hungry,” Izuku explained again.

“You want to be hungry and in trouble? Move, Deku!”

“Kacchan,” Izuku said, voice wobbling dangerously close to tears, “I’m hungry. I can’t run. It doesn’t work.” And, because Kacchan still looked mutinous, he sniffed and added: “It’s part of my quirk.”

Kacchan threw his hands up with far too much exasperation for any six year old to reasonably feel, then settled the issue by dragging Izuku into an uncomfortable piggy back. “Anything else I should know about you being hungry?” he asked, jabbing an elbow into Izuku’s side to make him stop squirming.

“Um. If I’m hungry for too long I get sick?”

“Your quirk is the most useless thing ever, I swear.”

“Here,” Katsuki said, roughly shoving a packet of crisps, a juice box and an apple into Izuku’s bag. He knew better than to give them to Izuku to hold directly; he had two hands, and therefore could hold two things, and if given any more to hold had a bad habit of dropping them on the floor like an idiot.

Because he was. An idiot. One who couldn’t be trusted to take care of himself, which is why Katsuki was feeding him, so he wouldn’t go hungry and stop running again.

“Ah, Kacchan - wait -” And the second Katsuki let go of the last item, Izuku staggered to a halt and sat down hard.

“Deku,” he growled. “What.”

“It can only hold ten things! You put too many in there and now it’s full.” Izuku shrugged himself out of the straps and tugged forlornly on the top handle, but the backpack stayed resolutely on the floor as though Katsuki had tipped lead bricks into it instead of food.

Tsubasa took the opportunity to lean over and peer inside the bag. “There’s still space,” he said helpfully. “It’s only half full.”

“And anyway! I’ve seen you carrying things for Auntie, there’s no way you can’t lift that!” Katsuki had seen Izuku casually lift a table to move it around the living room. For a scrawny mess of big eyes and freckles, Izuku was sometimes freakishly strong.

The scrawny mess in question heaved at the drooping school bag, twig-muscles standing out on twig-arms as he failed to make it budge. “They weren’t eleven things, Kacchan! Quirk says ten max!”

“Your quirk is a pain. Tsubasa, carry Deku’s bag.”

“‘Kay,” the other boy said, lifting the backpack up with the tip of an outstretched wing. “Have you got any more juice boxes? I finished mine.”

“You can have mine,” Izuku offered. “Then I’ll be able to carry it again.”

Katsuki knocked Tsubasa’s hand away. “No,” he said. “It’s for Deku when he’s hungry. I’ll get you one after class.”

“‘Kay.”

“Ten things,” Kacchan said later. Izuku turned towards him warily; he recognised the tone of voice. Kacchan was planning.

Kacchan’s plans only sometimes went right for others involved, but it was never a good idea to try and back out. Wariness was about the best Izuku could manage.

“Any ten things?”

“Um,” Izuku said. “I think so? I tested some of it, and it’s definitely ten. But if they’re in something they only count as one.” He got a somewhat blank look, so pulled his bag towards him to explain. “Like, here. My pencil case. It’s got ten pencils in it, right? But it’s only one thing because it’s a pencil case, so it counts as one. Even though it’s actually ten. Or, well, ten pencils plus one case so eleven. It’s eleven, but it goes in my bag as one thing.”

Kacchan turned the case over in his hands. “Huh,” he said, squinting at Izuku. “Could you put a hundred pencils in ten cases and put those ten in one big case and put that in your bag?”

“Yeah, I think so! So long as they fit. I did some testing when I discovered it, I think I have the notebook somewhere -”

“Nerd,” Kacchan interrupted with a roll of his eyes. “I believe you, I don’t need your diary.” He snapped the pencil case shut and handed it back - then doubled over laughing when it slammed Izuku’s hands to the floor as soon as he took it.

“Ow - Kacchan! What did you - you added something to it!”

“A sticker,” Kacchan wheezed. “I put a sticker in it and you actually can’t - oh my god Deku your quirk - a freakin’ sticker -”

“Ten of anything, Kacchan! Only ten!”

Anything, it turned out, really meant anything. The backpack wasn’t big enough for Kacchan’s liking so they retrieved Izuku’s mum’s suitcase from under her bed and filled it with the heaviest things in the house, including, at one point, Kacchan himself. Ten items or less, Izuku lifted it no problem. Add the sticker as an eleventh, and it crashed to the ground.

That part wasn’t so bad, but Izuku had two hands as well, and each hand could hold one of any item. Including Kacchan. And the sofa. But add the sticker, and, well, that’s how Izuku’s arm broke.

“Shit,” Kacchan swore, staring at it white-faced. In any other circumstances Izuku would’ve protested at the language, but he could be forgiven for being distracted.

“It’s going backwards,” he said with a morbid fascination that was probably the only thing keeping the pain at bay.

“Don’t touch it!” Kacchan slapped his good hand away. “And don’t tell Aunty! It’s not hurt that bad. I’ll get you a chocolate bar tomorrow if you stay upstairs and I’ll tell Aunty you’re sick and don’t say anything.”

“But it needs a plaster - ow!”

Izuku’s eyes filled with tears and Kacchan dropped his arm as though burned, eyes wide. “I’m sorry, don’t cry,” he flapped. “I’ll get a plaster, you’re fine, right? Plaster, bed, chocolate, don’t tell Aunty, stop crying. Right?”

“Two chocolate bars,” Izuku argued between sniffs. “And I want the All Might plasters, the normal ones aren’t as good.”

“Done,” Kacchan agreed, and hustled the shorter boy down to the bathroom. The All Might plaster was dutifully stuck on Izuku’s shoulder (they weren’t sure if it would work there, but seeing as his arm hurt when it was touched the shoulder seemed the safest place), Izuku himself was practically barricaded in his room, and Kacchan prepared his best innocent smile for lying through his teeth to every parent in the vicinity.

It was foolproof.

The fact that Izuku woke up in the morning with his arm completely healed only proved how flawless their planning really was. (That and the unmistakable power of All Might plasters).

“Where’s Deku?”

“Here!”

“Shit, don’t do that! Make some noise or something, seriously.”

“Sorry, I forgot I was crouching.”

“Your damn quirk Deku, I swear to god.”

“Sorry, Kacchan.”

“Again, Midoriya,” the gym teacher said. “And this time actually try to run the course without stopping.”

“But sensei, I can only manage thirty eight seconds of sprint and it takes two minutes and four seconds for each lap -”

“Midoriya!”

Izuku growled wordlessly and stomped back to the starting line. “Middle school is the worst.”

“You want me to hit him for you?” Tsubasa offered, standing ready with a stopwatch. He eyed the teacher, carefully comparing his wing strength to the man’s arm muscles in the way Katsuki had taught him. “I can hit him for you.”

“No hitting teachers, Tsubasa. No hitting anyone. We’ll get detention.”

“You and Katsuki will rescue me,” he said with easy conviction. “You’re heroes, it’s what you do.” It made Izuku smile at him, briefly lifting his mood. His old teachers had got used to the oddities and restrictions his quirk put on him, but even a month into middle school and his new teachers didn’t seem to have caught up. In a class full of visible quirks and Kacchan, Izuku was easy to overlook; it was an annoyance, but not one worth getting into trouble for.

At least, Izuku didn’t think so. Kacchan had practically exploded with protective fury when a teacher had tried to stop Izuku eating between classes, but Kacchan liked exploding so it probably wasn’t a good test.

“Heroes don’t hit people,” he told Tsubasa. “Unless they’re villains.”

“Yeah, but villains are people who disagree with heroes, and you ‘n Katsuki are heroes, so you can hit anyone who disagrees with you. It’s how it works.”

“It’s really not -”

“Midoriya! Less talking, more running!”

Izuku fought the urge to glare back at the teacher. Tsubasa, far too honest with his feelings and unused to fighting his urges, glared double.

“Let’s get this over with,” Izuku muttered, settling himself into ready position. “Count me down?”

When he was done, the time on Tsubasa’s stopwatch showed a clean six minutes, twelve seconds, with a precise time of two minutes four seconds per lap. Exactly the same as the previous two times Izuku had run the course.

He might not be the fastest of runners in a straight out sprint, but at least Izuku was consistent. If it wasn’t such a pain to stop and eat when sprinting made his hunger ran out he’d make a good long distance runner, but it was a pain, so he didn’t.

Also quirk use was forbidden in gym class.

“You need to push your boundaries,” the teacher said with a disappointed head shake. “I won’t tolerate slacking. Here, collect these and take them back to the equipment cupboard.” He pressed three stopwatches into Izuku’s hands, and Izuku could only watch in resignation as one of them tumbled to the ground.

“I’ll get it in a sec, sensei,” he said dully and trudged off to deposit the two in his hands before he could be accused of being disrespectful of school property.

Tsubasa jogged up, the fallen stopwatch carefully retrieved. “I can still hit him. You’re sure you don’t want me to hit him? Kacchan won’t mind.”

“No hitting people, Tsubasa.”

“Even villains?”

“Sensei’s not a villain.”

“Oh. Do you want me to hit him anyway?”

“Tsubasa.”

By the time he was fourteen, Izuku thought he had most of his quirk nailed down. He wasn’t sure what the common theme was - he had suspicions and ideas, but seriously, a gamer quirk? Ridiculous - but he was pretty certain he’d got the features in place.

The map he’d started filling in as a four year old covered most of the city by now, with long spider legs arching out along the train lines. It didn’t include a compass, but he could usually tell which way was which just by tracking his position along the map as he moved. It was on the one hand less useful than the map his phone gave him as it didn’t show places he hadn’t been, but also more useful in that he could zoom it into buildings and bring up floor plans if he concentrated hard enough.

His phone didn’t give him as many headaches though.

The issue with only being able to hold one thing in each hand, or ten things in a bag, required some creative thinking. Packing for a trip anywhere was the worst, everything had to be grouped in stacks of ten and placed in other bags just to allow him to pick up a suitcase. His school bag was usually ok, but carrying shopping was a logistical nightmare. Thank god for multipacks, that’s all Izuku was saying.

On the other hand, there didn’t seem to be a weight limit on what those items were, as Kacchan had so spectacularly discovered when he dropped a sofa on Izuku’s head and broke his arm. Izuku hadn’t found much use in his life so far for being able to deadlift a bus (plus up to ten passengers, but the bus was the impressive thing), but he was pretty sure it would come in handy as a hero.

And the other discovery from that day with the sofa, although neither of them had realised it at the time - sleep was good for Izuku. None of this waiting around, lying awake in bed unable to drift off; if it was night, and Izuku was in a bed, then he slept the healing sleep of the dead right through to sunrise and woke up in perfect health. On the plus side, he never had a nightmare, and never had an illness or injury follow him through to the next morning.

On the downside, Izuku didn’t budge from bed until the sun was up. In summer, he woke early. In winter, he still woke kind of early because sunrise in Japan only ever got as late as around seven-ish. But if he needed to be up before then, well… No. Not physically possible. A villain could burn the house down and tango on the ashes, and Izuku wouldn’t stir until sunrise came.

He got surprisingly used to skipping sleep all together when he needed to be up early. That and apologising for being late, he got the apologies down to an art form.

(He hadn’t yet unlocked the feature that wouldn’t let him sleep when enemies were nearby for the simple fact that, at fourteen, Izuku didn’t have enemies. Nor had he discovered yet that he couldn’t sleep without a bed because why on earth would he try to sleep without a bed? He’d once mortally offended Kacchan by offering to take the floor when they were having a sleepover, and Kacchan had responded by drowning Izuku in blankets and smothering him with pillows until he apologised and promised never to do it again.)

And, of course, his stamina. By fourteen, Izuku could sprint for forty six seconds before his forced rest of four seconds. Climbing gave him twenty three seconds, which was usually enough to reach some kind of ledge or windowsill to recharge his energy. The rain was still deadly, as was the bucket of water he and Kacchan had experimented with that other one time Izuku broke his arm. He could hang stationary on to the side of a building practically endlessly, but if he reached his twenty three second limit of actively climbing, he just dropped.

Incidentally, Tsubasa had got surprisingly good at catching him.

So, that’s Izuku’s quirk: he navigates weird, he sleeps weird, he runs and climbs weird, he carries things weird, and if he ever gets too hungry then he just goes weird. He’s only once pushed his hunger long enough to make himself sick, which was more to find out his limits than anything else. They’ve probably changed in the past few years, but when he was twelve he had two hours, twenty six minutes between being unable to run and being so hungry that he threw up in a trash can. Thirty four minutes after that and he’d been shivering and sweating and unable to stand, and eight minutes after that he’d been found by Kacchan and yelled at and force fed corn soup from the closest vending machine.

Ah, fond memories.

All of which led, approximately seven months ago, to Izuku deciding: “Yuuei. I’m going to apply to Yuuei.”

“Well, duh,” Kacchan said, making a face at him over his spicy chilli noodles. “We’re going to be heroes. Where else would we go?”

“Doesn’t Shiketsu train heroes as well?” Tsubasa asked. Kacchan rolled his eyes and kicked him in the shin.

“We’re going to be number one hereos,” he amended. “All Might went to Yuuei. If I’m going to be number one and Deku’s going to be number two then we need to go to Yuuei too. It’s logic.”

And when Kacchan put his unique stamp of approval on one of Izuku’s plans, that was it. The plan was happening. He, of the green hair and the twiggy, bus-benching arms, would go to Yuuei and be the number two hero.

Off the edge of his mental map of Tokyo, in a part of the city that he hadn’t yet unlocked the map for, a small marker started flashing in his mind.

Main quest: Yuuei Entrance Exam. Achieve a passing grade in both the written and practical portions of the famous hero class entrance exam and begin your journey to becoming a pro hero...

#bnha #boku no hero academia #izuku midoriya #katsuki bakugo #au: izuku has a quirk #length: 3.3k #my writing #i had breath of the wild in mind as the gaming rules while i was writing this but hopefully it also works a general gamer!au #i just wanted him not to be too op you know?#he gets gamer benefits #he gets gamer drawbacks #life's a box of chocolates and sometimes they include fruit creams #you just gotta make do

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