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blackcatclawsout · 3 years

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Majima x Reader- Bento Box

I also post to AO3 under the same username!

Morning was always her favourite time of the day. Y/N stirred in her shared bed, nestling into the arms that were already wrapped around her. Majima seemed to already be awake; his grip tightened and drew her closer. He peppered her cheeks and forehead in light kisses, giggling at her sleepy groaning. She swatted away his face, chuckling softly.

"No, I have morning breath," she whined, smirking as he drew her near.

They laid in bed motionless, letting dawn's light hit their blanketed bodies. Everything was soft and warm, as the rising sun began to wake greater Tokyo. Y/N could stay like this forever, pressed against his chest, breathing in Majima. He rarely took showers at night, so she always caught a bit of his cologne in their morning cuddles. Stealing glances at her beau, she saw his face, softened as he breathed softly. She admired his thin face and his high cheekbones. Y/N gently reached up, rubbing the backs of her fingers across his motionless face. She cupped his cheek. Majima's eye opened, locking with her. His grey eye was softened in moments like these, pupil lazily dilating as he stared back at her. Catlike blinks between the two of them communicated their mutual appreciation for the silent moment they were currently sharing. Y/N's eyes darted towards his thin-lipped mouth. The hand she rested on his lean chest felt his heart speed up. The anxious pattering edged her to lean in closer. A giddy feeling rose from her stomach, compelling her to shut her eyes in excitement. The harsh melody of the phone cut through their synchronized breathing.

"Son of a..." Majima muttered, immediately turning to his bedside stand. Y/N sat up, calming her still fast-beating heart. "Nishida, d'ya even know what time- No, I haven't since... Fuck. I'll be there in a sec." He sighed, hanging up. Majima sat on the edge of the bed, fingers massaging his temple. His lover crawled to him slowly, resting a hand on his shoulder. Before she could ask, he stood up, turning around to face her.

"Shit's hit the fan, I gotta go." His hand extended, resting on top of her head. Fingers wandered absent-mindedly through her locks as his eyes flickered over her partly covered figure. His brows were once again furrowed.

"I understand. You better get going." She nodded, smiling up at the older man. His lips parted slightly, almost to say something, but pressed together again. He sauntered to the washroom, closing the door behind him. Y/N glanced at the clock on Majima's side table.

5:56... yikes. No wonder Goro was pissed off. He doesn't usually get up for another half hour.

She stretched as she got up, wrapping a robe around herself as she left the bedroom. Something Y/N had slowly grown accustomed to in her partnership to Majima was bento boxes. The idea of making someone a packed lunch seemed… childish to her; at least it did at first. She vaguely remembered her mother making her lunch when she was a child, probably because she couldn't be trusted to pack her own. She had learned quickly to become independent, fiercely so, and the thought of relying on someone else to make her lunch seemed strange to her. It wasn't until Goro explained that she caught the appeal.

"When you're a kid, your mom made one of them for you and your dad. It always had great shit in there- homemade and sometimes with cute decorations. Now, she only did this for you an' your ol' man, the two people she shoulda loved most. So when ya girl makes it, it means she loves ya!" He flashed a cheeky grin as he explained. Y/N just cocked her head.

"You... don't think of your mom when you eat it?" She asked warily, causing him to burst with laughter.

"Hell no, I don't! I just think of my girl, and how lucky I am to have her." he leaned forward, pecking her cheek as he finished.

Y/N washed the rice absent-mindedly as she thought back to then. A smile graced her lips as she turned the machine on to hum, beginning to make other parts of his lunch. There was a big learning curve at first; the rice balls would always fall apart, or she’d mess up some recipe. Far too often she had left out an element from the lunch box, only to find it waiting on the counter. Despite it all, Majima took a bento each day, calling after he finished to compliment her work. His praise motivated her, even driving her to go to a local bookstore, looking for any sort of help. Slowly, her skills improved. Her routine became more integrated and quicker with each passing day.

After a short while, she looked at her handy work. The layer bento was stuffed full of edamame, onigiri with fish, steamed vegetables, and leftover meat from their dinner before. She felt proud of her handiwork, even if it wasn’t perfect. Y/N glanced at the kitchen clock on the wall.

It’s been almost 20 minutes... He should be ready soon.

She packed the food up, tucking his chopstick into the small plastic container. After ensuring everything was ready to go, she padded back to the bedroom, looking around for her lover. Muttering leaked out of their washroom, prompting her to follow the growling.

“Hey, Goro-chan… You’ll need to be heading out soon,” She popped her head into the doorway, smiling as she saw him already finished. He turned to face her, an exasperated look already carved into his face.

“Those assholes…” He sighed as he walked towards her, He was dressed in his usual suit jacket and black leather pants. She could still smell the dampness in his hair and his body wash- one of her favourite smells. Y/N gave a soft smile to him.

They didn’t often talk about his work, they met in spite of it, and he seemed to prefer to keep it that way. When they first met, he was insistent that he was a businessman- he looked the part then too. At the time, his hair was long and neat, his suit always pressed and clean; he had kept himself well-groomed with a clean shaved face, so it wasn’t much of a stretch then. Of course, life got in the way and they fell apart, only connecting years later by chance. The drastic change in his appearance tipped her off that he was into… different work by now. But she respected his privacy. She wasn’t oblivious by any means; Y/N meticulously knew what he did and where he was most days. After a few months of being together, she began receiving text messages from Nishida, informing her on where his boss was, especially during late evenings. They chatted frequently, even going into topics not associated with work. He was her confidant and seemed to share the image of Majima that she had.

Goro finished with his hair and came to the doorway, kissing her cheek before heading out of the bathroom. He picked up a few things he left out on the bed before also leaving the bedroom. She tidied the washroom, bringing out the damp towel that smelled like him, and tiding the bedspread before also leaving.

“See ya! I’m off!” Majima called from the door.

“Call you later!” She echoed from the laundry room, “Have a good day!” She waited for the door to click shut before she continued with the laundry. Household chores weren’t her favourite, she didn’t enjoy doing laundry or cooking. But if it was left up to the two of them, both Majima and Y/N would starve and live the remainder of their days on earth as nudists. On her days off, she tried to get everything done quickly, leaving the remainder of the day to read or do whatever else she pleased. Y/N stretched as the washing machine began to purr lightly. She sighed as she looked around for something else to do.

Can’t seem to find anything else… Guess it’s time for breakfast.

Padding to the kitchen, she used the remainder of the food prepared from before to make herself food. She hummed happily as egg sizzled and soup came to a soft boil. The fragrant embrace of food brought her a joy that nothing else in the world could, and she almost hated to admit it. It was half-way through her rendition of some pop song from the radio that she noticed something in the corner of her eye, sitting on the countertop. Turning she noticed it was the bento box she made. Y/N held the container in her hands, turning it over lightly. She felt her brow furrow slightly, thinking of what to do. Should she bring it to him? Glancing at the clock she sighed,

It’s 7:00 am… If I get ready soon I can drop this off and pop around Kamurocho for a bit

It was 10:30-ish when she was dressed and ready to head out. Just because of the occasion, she decided to wear a knee-length black skirt and a simple creme blouse, pairing them with black penny loafers. She admired her reflection in the hallway mirror, her makeup light and perfect for a sunny afternoon out. Y/N made sure to gently tuck in the bento box to the fabric bag she had slung around her shoulder and headed out for the day.

Navigating the subways always seemed daunting during rush hour, so she grew thankful when she patted down the steps to find the underground mostly empty. It was a short walk through the underground mall to where she needed to go; the large hall filled with all ages shopping for what they needed. Sweet vendors sold their succulent items to the newly freed students, groups of teenage girls fawned over the newest character items displayed, some with their boyfriends. A light smile played over Y/N’s face as she too had been that way when she was younger. She understood the excitement contained within the first week off of school, how it drove young people to be out with their friends. As she left the mall area and came to her line, she noticed a pair of teens waiting. A boy and a girl stood side by side, rather stiffly. She eyed them, noticing the way they both twitched when talking to one another. How cute. She glanced down at her fabric bag.

I wonder what he was like when he was younger…

The train ride was about 20 minutes, dropping her off in the heart of Kamurocho. Despite the bright sun and lack of neon lights, people swarmed the warming streets, chatting and shopping to their heart’s content. The smell of grilled food, cigarettes, and sun-baked concrete filled her senses as Y/N darted through the crowd. Regardless of being the only foreigner for blocks, she was ignored completely by the other’s around her. It sometimes was the only redeeming quality of the busier areas. Endless roads seemed to carry on for miles, the farthest treks waving and fluttering in the edging midday heat. All of Kamurocho seemed to be gearing up for the impending festival season, which always impressed visitors from far and wide. Passing by, attendants called out in hopes of catching a customer, but their calls falling on deaf ears. The Millenium Tower loomed over the crowds in the bright sunlight, casting a sharp shadow; though it was a ways off, it still acted as a centre, or maybe more of a North star. She dawdled towards the quieter part of town where the Majima family office was located. She had vaguely remembered certain landmarks, like the worn down shrine that always seemingly had a fresh bowl of rice, or the old teahouse they had once stopped at. As she drew near the building, a tense feeling probed her stomach, though she had trouble understanding why. It was not like Goro was ever mean or told her not to come, yet she had the feeling like he had lived his life with her around his work, avoiding involving her in any regard.

Y/N bit her lip anxiously; She would be lying to say she had not considered heading back. Simply calling him to warn him that he might have to eat out for today, or feign ignorance over his forgetfulness this morning. Yet, the prospect of doing anything else plagued her mind with guilt. Glancing at her watch, she decided to head in, despite it being only 11:22, as she’d rather be giving him his lunch early than late. She cautiously walked into the building, immediately hit with a wall of air conditioning. She shivered in the artificial cool and looked about. The standard lobby was clean but dated and smelled of old carpet. Thinking back, Y/N had never gotten a good look at the inside, the most she saw was whatever she could see through the window the one time she saw Majima exit from here. The lobby only had a hallway attached, seemingly where the elevators and washroom would be. Gloomy plants sat destitute in the corner of the room. As she finished her look-over, her eyes settled on the high desk that rested on the left side of the room. Quietly, she approached.

The man sitting at the desk was middle aged and pudgy. His clothes and hair would have betrayed him for just another typical salary man and not someone who worked with the Yakuza. Several papers were strewn around him as he wrote on the one closest to him. As she stood waiting, she noticed the permanent fowl look on his face. It was decidedly funny when she realized it was the same face one makes at an offensive smell. Holding back a snicker, she spoke up.

“Um, excuse me…” her voice almost was a whisper. The man whipped his head up, visibly confused. His eyes quickly jumped about her figure as he rose from his seat.

“No english. Out.” He rattled quickly in english, stepping from behind the desk. In her initial shock, he nearly dragged her to the door before she retracted her hand.

“I’m here for-” She began.

“No english.” The man repeated once again, turning to face her.

“Is Majima Goro here?” She exclaimed loudly. The man froze where he stood, blinking owlishly at her. The air conditioning above them tousled both their hair, the moment silent, still and cold. He cleared his throat before straightening himself.

“Yes, I believe Majima-sama is in his office.” The man responded quietly, looking her over once more. Y/N sighed in relief, relaxing her own posture.

“Thank you. Can you take me to him?”

He shook his head softly, walking back to the desk, trailing her along dumbly. At first she thought he was refusing to help her anymore, but as he sat down, he reached for the desk’s phone and irritatedly called a short sequence. He muttered something under his breath before hanging up the phone and returning back to his papers. An awkward pause played as Y/N waited for any further instruction, standing dumbly in front of the pudgy man. Without warning, the elevator creaked opened, allowing two tall lean men to step out. She took that as her cue, and walked towards them.

Confusion seemed to be the theme of the Majima family office; Both men took a second to look her over before jumping back into action, patting her down rather roughly. While they avoided the obvious areas, they did seem to paw her skirt a little belligerently. She bit her lip to bite back a rude comment, deciding that it wasn’t worth pissing off men who killed people for a living. When one tried to take her bag, she yelped causing them to jump slightly. Her face was hot as she opened the canvas bag herself, showing them the contents After an additional minute of snooping, they led inside the elevator adjacent; The three of them stood compactly to one another. Y/N felt them shift their body weight. The small box had no air conditioning, quickly undoing the chill she felt moments ago. Her heart beat began to pick up again as they climbed slowly to the third floor, seconds stretching to minutes. When they arrived, she was hit once again with the cooled air.

The hallway was plain and for some reason nerve-wracking. The lack of scenery gave her less to take in as she tried to calm her beating heart. Checking and rechecking her bag, she made sure the food was in there. Her pulse was loud in her ears and her face felt hot. Why out of all the times she had given Majima a bento, this was the time when she was nervous about it? She thought back to their phone conversations after he had finished his lunch- Was he ever lying? What if he just threw it out at work and told her a pretty white lie? It was only an odd electricity in the room that made her tear her gaze from the bottom of the bag that she had been staring at.

Looking up, she found her gaze land on Goro Majima’s face, his brows furrowing as he looked over her.

“Y/N, are you alright?” His voice had an edge of concern as he stepped out a little from the doorway. She couldn’t help but find herself gawking- he felt too unreal to answer to. She had heard before that you often have trouble recognizing people when they are removed from the typical scenario you see them in; this seemed to be a prime example to her. Before she could answer, Majima led her into his office, draping his arm over her shoulder as he led her in. As she bustled in, he closed the door quickly behind them.

Her eyes wandered over his office- It was small and rather boring, only a small katana on the wall suggested that he would actually use this space. It was surprisingly clean, save for a large desk which was scattered in various papers. The filing cabinets and tables were covered in papers as well, though neatly stacked into piles. It never had occurred to her that he would have done any other work besides physical. Her thoughts were stopped as Goro came into her view. His grey eye was dark and his brow creased, which only made him look older. His gloved hands rested on her shoulders, his gaze even with hers.

“Are you alright, Y/N-chan?” His voice quivered slightly. Her face reddened in response, forcing her to break eye contact.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine..” she replied quietly.

A stale silence hung in the air before Majima straightened himself, hands dropping from her shoulders to hold her hands instead. He held her hands up, gently rubbing the backs of her knuckles.

“You’re not acting like yourself… What’s really happening?” His baritone voice was soft and pleading, making his concern more unbearable. The woman let out a shaky breath and urged herself to look at him. Her tongue felt swollen in her mouth and her throat seemed dryer than moments before.

“You left your lunch at home, but I… just feel silly.” She managed to mewl meekly. Her eyes stayed trained on him while he processed what she said. His face betrayed his confusion before he cocked his head.

“My… lunch?” He repeated. She sighed heavily.

“I came into the kitchen and it was still on the counter, and I didn’t want you to be hungry or to have to go out and stop what you were doing to go buy lunch-” She began only to be cut off by his howling laughter. He held his stomach and keeled over, gasping for air while he cackled brightly. Now she really felt embarrassed.

After giggling to himself for a while longer, he looked up at her, still doubled over and gasping, “You’re too cute.”

She fumbled with her bag, grabbing the bento and quickly shoving it to him. Even though her gaze was averted from him, she could still sense his smile as he gently took the container from her. He walked to his desk, plopping down in the plush leather chair, setting his feet up on the desk. Y/N drew near as he popped the lid open, surveying the contents.

“Okey-dokey, let’s see what we have... Karaage, edamame- always delicious… Ooh! Even salmon onigiri!” He loudly praised the humble contents of the bento, picking through the contents lightly. His lover settled on the edge of his desk, watching his reactions intently. He ate ravenously, akin to a rabid dog more than an actual person. She was the one to giggled this time, watching his face change with each side dish.

As he finished, Majima sighed loudly, sinking further into his chair.

“Delicious as always.”

Y/N cocked her head, “You think so?” He smirked, pulling her forward towards him.I know so.”

#majima goro #goro majima #majima x reader #yakuza #yakuza kiwami #ryu ga gotoku #rgg #i love domestic fluff

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orangefoxes · 3 years

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Hey, so I've been trying to submit a prompt but it won't work so here it goes I know this will be sad but what if Neil gets really sad and depressed (the reason is up for interpretation ex: bullied by jack or is haunted by PTSD) and so he becomes full of self hate and becomes anorexic and cuts himself #andreil (this would mean so much since I've been through similar circumstances and was strong enough to pull through and keep living, this book and your Tumblr have helped me so much)

Hi @soph-ie21 I am so sorry this took a whopping 4 years for me to post. I’m terrible for not checking my inbox as my notifications have been turned off for tumblr since I was like 13. I’m so glad to hear that you recovered from your ED, you must be so strong and I’m so proud of you as I know how difficult that is to do. I’m hoping this is the sort of prompt you were looking for, if you’re even looking after this long, as it’s not very dialogue heavy, but here you go.

TRIGGER WARNING: EATING DISORDER, SELF LOATHING, ANOREXIA.

When in high stress situations, to cope, the brain releases a hormone called cortisol. It’s alright in small doses, helpful even. It triggers your fight or flight response and readies the body to do something, fast. Constant exposure to the hormone however, has some not so good long term effects. Effects that include, but are not limited to: high blood pressure, heart disease, type 2 diabetes, osteoporosis, and, arguably the mildest, weight gain.

Cortisol results in weight gain for two reasons. The first is because it slows your metabolism, and the second is because the drop in blood sugar from constant high blood pressure means that you start craving fatty, sugary foods, which leads to overeating. Neil’s memory is not nearly good enough for him to recall what foods he had craved over the years, but he and his mother shied away from sweets and chocolate for dental reasons, it probably would have been a hardship for many kids growing up but Neil had never much cared for sugar anyway. However, what he and his mother did indulge in is a lot of fatty, fast food. Partly because it was cheap, partly because it was something they could eat while on the move, and partly because no one would look twice at two sketchy people in a Burger King or remember a beaten up old car briefly pausing in a drive thru.

While never giving much thought to how he looked (short of checking for ginger roots and the bruise on his cheek from where his mother had slapped that smile from his face), Neil does remember his weight fluctuating a lot when he was younger. The more stressful the months, the chubbier he got. It was in the quiet periods as he and his mother settled down and didn’t dare to venture into the supermarket too often that he began to lose it again. It was a cycle.

In Millport, Neil was at his lowest weight yet. There was only a solitary McDonald’s in town and Neil wasn’t about to become a regular. He stocked up on tinned food from the supermarket in his first week in town instead and meticulously made his way through them, heating the can up on the hot plate he had bought for four dollars from the thrift store in the high street.

He gained weight again once he started at Palmetto, he gained muscle mass too. This, of course, was thanks to three free meals a day and a new training regime with daily exercise. It was to be expected, but if, perhaps, he gained weight quicker than his teammates and muscle slower, well, he had bigger things to worry about.

Then he knew he was going to live.

Then everything with the Moriyamas was…well, not gone, but resolved.

That’s not to say there was nothing to stress about. There was the influx of reporters wanting to catch the Foxes’ attention to ask about Nathaniel Wesninski. There was Kevin’s impending break down as Riko’s funeral came and went. There was Aaron’s trial. Honestly it probably would have gone as stressful situations for Neil always go - here and gone just as quickly - except it turns out that Nicky cooks when he’s stressed, and Neil, well, he’s a stress eater.

After Aaron is declared innocent, Nicky resumes as normal. Neil…not quite. He’s constantly opening the cupboards to look for something to eat only to close them again when he finds nothing of interest. Without Nicky cooking, there’s nothing he can easily dig into and Neil, while accumulating many skills over the years, had never been a hand in the kitchen. The only things ready-eat that were consistently in the dorm were ramen and ice-cream. Even the thought of ramen makes Neil want to vomit and Neil wasn’t so desperate that he would resort to eating something as sweet as ice cream. Not that Andrew would let him if he did. (Andrew wasn’t a sharer).

He started to feel hungry.

He was always hungry.

The first few days he started to skip meals, he didn’t even notice he was doing it. Surely he didn’t notice he was doing it.

It’s just -

Here’s the thing.

Maybe he stress eats. Maybe his mother did too. They spent long car journeys with a family sized bag of potato chips resting by the gear stick and they spent half the time stuffing handfuls into their mouths and the other half checking the mirrors for cars that stayed behind them a touch to long. So maybe he stress ate, but it was never because of hunger: it was because of craving. It was because it gave him something to do with his hands. It was only when things quietened down, when the weeks turned long with the monotonous almost-existence that took up the majority of Neil’s life growing up (here’s something no one tells you about life on the run, in between the moments of sheer terror, it’s very very very boring), it was only then, that Neil actually began to feel things like hunger.

So when the hunger pangs began to curdle in his stomach, well, he didn’t mind. It meant he was safe enough to feel the hunger.

Maybe for the first couple of days he didn’t notice it. But then he noticed it.

He noticed enough to avoid things like rice and bread. Danger foods that packed on the calories and that made him bite the inside of his cheek until it bled at the mere thought. He noticed enough that he began to watch the others train and saw their muscles flex and couldn’t help but track their muscle growth and measure it up against his own. He always found himself lacking.

That’s when it started to get worse. If Allison spent 20 minutes on the treadmill. Then Neil would do 30. If Kevin did 40 push ups. Then Neil would do 50. If Renee had a salad for lunch, then Neil would just have a fruit pot.

The first time Andrew noticed that he skipped a meal, Neil just blinked. Being who he was, Neil didn’t do stupid things like stumble for lies and this time was no different. When Andrew asked about him not eating Neil just blinked like he hadn’t even noticed until Andrew brought it up.

He blinked and said “oh, you’re right. I got so caught up in watching exy reruns i didn’t even notice”

He said, “thanks, I’ll grab something in a sec”

Andrew breathed a scoffing breath down his nose, rolled his eyes and called him a junkie. He didn’t look at all surprised, as though Neil was only confirming what he had already guessed. Which of course is the trick all good liars employ.

Neil wondered if he would be surprised if he were to find out how impossible it would be for Neil to forget a meal time. He could never forget. All he thought about was food. It was all he thought about.

Food began to feel like it was all he cared about. Cared about more than school. Cared about more than exy. Is it terrible of him that that more than anything else feels like the worst thing?

And then, as things do, it got worse.

It turned into Neil stood in front of the mirror (looking at his body but not his eyes, never his eyes) and pinching the flesh between his fingers. Noticing every part of him that didn’t harden into muscle like the others. Noticing all the scars that had stretched strangely over a waist and thighs that are no longer as small.

He begins to peck at his food. Rip it into tiny pieces. Andrew looks down at his plate and glowers at him. Neil gives him a cheeky grin. He knows what he’s thinking. That this is just another one of those Andrew-mannerisms that Neil is taking on for himself. Like the sarcastic salutes and the blank, waiting stares. It’s so much easier to hide how little you’ve eaten when it’s all in pieces.

He didn’t know how to explain it. He just knows he needs to be thinner. He needs to weigh less. It’s not about looks. It’s never been about looks. He just needs to do this. He needs to be smaller. It will be alright then. Because then…then…

Well it will be alright then.

So here’s the thing about guilt and self loathing: they’re useless emotions. Andrew would be quick to agree. (Though Andrew is a hypocrite and is chock full of the both of them). His mother would agree too. How many times had Neil slipped poison into someone’s drink, stole from someone just as desperate, shot someone who maybe or maybe-not deserved it? And how many times after that did his mother pinch and prod at him and repeat the same mantra of “don’t you dare let guilt slow you down, you slow down and you’re dead”

Well, Mum, he’s slowed down. He slowed down so much that he’s stopped altogether and guess what? He fucking hates himself.

He replays it all in his head like a terrible loop. The boy in Switzerland that he tricked into taking his jacket so His fathers men would go after him instead. The old women he and his mother tricked into housing them and then slipped something in her tea until she slept and never woke up again. The homeless man who had broken into the house they were squatting in that Neil had shot on instinct. Seth.

Seth. Seth. Seth.

He fucking hates himself. Honestly the hunger pains kind of feel like the best thing he’s ever felt after that. The pain, the ache, he deserves it.

Then it gets worse. Then comes the worst part.

Andrew’s meds change again. The others had begun to make him irritable and he always had an energy crash by about 5pm and a terrible headache. The new ones wouldn’t be of much note as they did nothing groundbreakingly different, short of getting rid of the headaches and not sapping so much of his energy.

Except for one key side effect of the meds.

They suppressed Andrew’s appetite.

More and more Andrew is missing meals. He won’t even eat more than a tablespoon of ice cream. Neil watches him and adjusts himself to suit. He doesn’t know why, but he just can’t be eating more than him, he can’t.

The frustration he feels about Andrew’s meds soon turn to resentment. He hates that he has to watch Andrew not eat and not seem affected by it at all. Andrew lessens his exercise under Betsy’s advice and yet nothing changes. His weight stays the same. He probably even loses some thanks to the loss of muscle. Neil watches and Neil hates. He hates that if he skipped out on training he would pack on the pounds, he hates that his stomach hurt and hurts and Andrew doesn’t spare a thought on food at all.

He starts to avoid the roof. He starts to dodge Andrew’s gaze the same way he does his own in the mirror.

The next time they’re alone and Andrew leans in, more hesitant than he’s been in months, Neil jerks back and snaps “No.”

It isn’t even completely because of the resentment. The majority of it is because he feels disgusting and fat and he can’t bare Andrew touching him right now. Can’t bare him looking at him.

Andrew’s face closes off and he slides back to the other side of the couch. He’s searching Neil’s face, trying to find the misstep, trying to find what he did wrong.

Good, let him think he did something wrong.

Now that’s the resentment.

It’s immediately one of the worst things Neil has ever thought. He remembers sitting, trembling, on the roof, Andrew refusing to touch him saying “I wont be like them, I wont let you let me be”

And Neil’s trying to make him think, wants to make him feel -

Jesus Christ. He’s a piece of fucking shit.

He slams his way out of the dorm and runs and runs and runs.

He sleeps in the locker room and slumps out in the morning so he’s first in the main room for the meeting with Wymack. He sits on a chair that’s as far away from every other seat as it can get while still completing the make do semi-circle around where Wymack usually stands. When the others begin to filter in they take in his new seat, but don’t comment when they see his storming expression.

When Andrew sees him he pauses for a beat in the doorway before continuing to his usual seat on the couch. He stares at Neil blankly, but his hands are clenching and unclenching in his lap. Wymack hesitates but doesn’t say anything. The others play at being uninterested and only Aaron openly looks between Neil and Andrew with a steadyingly darkening expression.

Neil slams his locker and gets changed in the cubicles for the first time in months. He’s vicious in practice. Throwing in as many dirty moves as he can. Andrew stands in the goal and does nothing. When it’s only Wymack’s sharp whistle that stops Neil bringing his racket down on Matt’s arm when he attempts to steal the ball, Neil is benched.

He yanks off his helmet and slumps down on the bench and tries to remember how to breathe through rage.

He’s sat, pinching at the skin on his thigh, for ten minutes before Allison joins him. She holds out a breakfast bar and Neil stiffens.

“Eat, it might help you stop being such a raging asshole,” she says.

Neil takes the breakfast bar and when she doesn’t immediately leave he opens it and snaps a bit off with his fingers.

He stares down the rolled oats and nuts and grimaces at the sticky feeling of the syrup that holds them together. He feels sick.

“Are you going to eat?” Allison says.

Neil looks at her and huffs a bitter breath through his nose. A wry smile pulls at the corner of his lips.

He remembers that Allison battled bulimia for years.

You can’t lie to a liar.

She looks at his face. Concern trying to become anger that she’s trying to force to stay concern. She looks at his face and then over at Andrew, who is stood in his goal watching them as Kevin shouts at him to fucking do something already. She looks back at Neil.

“You know, relationships are hard enough without mental health problems in the mix. Seth and I were a terrible combination for many reasons and that was one them. I’m not saying it can’t be done or that it shouldn’t be done, I’m just saying it makes it so much harder. He used to try to make me eat. I hated him for that. Hated that I had to hide my own habits in my own room. One day, after he stopped me from going to purge one too many times we got into an argument. I said some disgusting things to him. The next day he was in the hospital because of an overdose. He had to get his stomach pumped. You know what the worst thing is? I don’t even remember what it is I said. I don’t know if what I did triggered him or if it would have happened anyway, but it couldn’t have helped. You’re always going to trigger each other at one point or another, it’s unavoidable. But if you know that and you don’t do anything to help yourself…well that’s when every shit thing you think about yourself starts to become true. So tell me, are you a piece of shit that’s going to drag everyone down with you, or are you better than that?”

Neil looks down at the breakfast bar. He still can’t make himself eat it.

He swallows harshly against the lump in his throat. He has to swallow two more times until he’s sure he can talk without crying.

“What’s betsy’s number?” He asks.

Allison doesn’t smile, but she nods like he’s done the right thing and pulls out her phone.

SIDE NOTE: I’d like to point out that Neil is very flawed and toxic in his thinking and Allison is harsh in what she says to him just because she’s a harsh person. If you have an eating disorder I know sometimes help and recovery seems like the worst thing in world and something you really don’t want, but please, please seek help. You can do it.

#Neil josten #andrew minyard #Allison Reynolds #the foxhole court #andreil #all for the game #anorexia #eating disorder

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pufflocks · 3 years

Text

Summary: You and Aran go to a smoke circle with some friends in matching outfits. During the 13th pass or so, someone brings up the mention of kinks.

Warnings: NSFW • drugs mentioned { Weed } • proof read

Cast: Top!M!Reader x Bottom!Aran

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"You trying to hit up the twins for a circle tonight ?" You ask. Scrolling through your feed, you see Atsumu and Osamu post a tag list of people on their shared account. They had been the ones who sold you and Aran's weed in highschool.

You chuckle at those memories until you a see Aran appear in your peripheral vision. With a slight grunt he sits next to you with some chinese food in his hands. Body leaning into yours as he scoots his well built form close to yours while slipping your phone out of your hands. Reading the invite in the post directed to the people tagged, he says, "Can we match with the clothes you bought last month ?" He says. Stuffing his face with a spoonful of rice.

You nod. Chuckling slightly at the thought of you and him matching during a smoke session, with friends you might add. He caught on to your entertained noises as he cocked and eyebrow. Swallowing down his food, he looked at you. "What ? Embarrassed to go out matching ?" He asked.

Rolling your eyes you lightly push him, in move of getting up. Stretching your limbs before you started to head to the kitchen.

"Where you goin' ?" Aran hollers from the living room, homebody boyfriend. You say you were going to go get your chinese, since he already ate his. He probably thought you weren't going to eat your food so he could, greedy for your food. Not this time, can never smoke on an empty stomach.

You zipped up your jeans. "Ow-! Fuck !" You look behind you to see that your boyfriend was tearing out the tag from the hoodie the both of you were wearing. Your hand moved to your neck on where he gripped to take the tag off. "You need to stop surprising me, I swear to god." You mumble. You hear a light chuckle as he throws it away before coming back to kick the side of your neck.

"Sorry, sorry. You would have forgotten it and or stuffed it in your hood," He says. Your phone started to buzz on your bedroom bed. Aran grabbed it because you were busy touching up your clothes in the mirror. "Hello," He answers. A gruff hum was heard on the other side of the phone as Aran's face scrunched up in question. "Hellleer-"

"Aran ? Why you got Y/N phone ?" Osamu says across the line.

Aran laughed a bit as he says, "That's because he fixing his clothes in the mirror. Did you guys start already or sum' ?" Static and slight car noises could be heard a bit until he spoke again.

"Um- Dang. Well, we going over to Kiyoko's house because she said she wanted to roll this time." A hum of acknowledgment was given. You finished up picking leftover lint and whatnot from your outfit. Aran gave phone back to you as he went to go brush his teeth. You eyed him a bit before a short 'hello' got your attention.

"Hey 'Samu, what's up," You say. Not even getting an answer had hung up on you. "Wow, okay."

Aran spat out his toothpaste before turning back at you from the bathroom. "He said we are going to Kiyoko's house this time," Rinsing his mouth out and cleaning up the sink dutifully. "They suck at rolling is what they said." You nod at his words as he come your direction. Checking your phone you see it's 1:45.

You hum a small tune as your hands make way to your boyfriends waist. "You trying to be good for me today," Rocking back in forth in the middle of your guys' room, he nods as his head rests on your chest. "You get frustrated when high so if anything happens we can leave. Even though we've been 'round these people for a long time." You say.

He giggles a bit and breaks from your grasp. "Yeah, and you aren't any better than me. If you get like how we are in private, I'm going to personally choke you," He says. "Come on so we can get there early. Her house is far." You laugh following him to the car outside.

This day will get messy either or.

"Look, it's gay and gayer ! What's good ?" Tanaka greeted you and Aran. He meant no harm, but you people in the room cringed at his welcoming to the both of you.

Tanaka looked down and he saw your matching outfits. "Oh okay," he started hyping the both of you up, making and "Ouuu" noise. "I need me a girl or sum to match with." He pouted. Aran laughed in his face before Atsumu came over for a hello.

The smell of multiple alcohols and body fragrance was enough for you to realize it was gonna be a chill smoke sesh.

"So why yall matching like two twins at a birthday party ?" Kiyoko snickered lightly. Drinking her sure enough expensive wine in a cup. She hated wasting dishes for events like these.

Aran looked up from his phone to check if she was talking to you or him. "What," Kiyoko shook her head, taking another gulp of her velvet liquid. She fiddled with her tongue piercing before eyeing the actual twins in the room as she got up. "Don't fuck up my house. My parents get home literally tomorrow. Goodnight everyone." And with that she retired to her room.

Apparently this was cue for the twins to take initiative. Osamu brung out the speaker from his back pack as he turned on some music. Obviously nothing too loud, or everybody was going to sleep.

"You already know she don't like music playing. If you gonna play some, might aswell turn it down." Aran says. He was right. You chuckled. Snatching Osamus phone out of his hand.

"Hey, I was about to play something." You rolled your eyes. He had a bad thing with never actually picking a song. Osamu would play a dead or unwitting song just so he can say he did in fact play a song. Meanwhile he is watching some big booty hoe on live. Many occasions the audio switched to whatever porn his screen was on.

"I don't want shit to seem like a whore house Samu. Realize we in a different setting." You scoffed at him as he visibly ignored you.

Atsumu got up heading to the kitchen. You picked a decent song by a familiar artist to the room { Preferably SkiMask The Slump God }. Your body took after it's own conscience by your hand smoothing over Arans natural waves. He hums in appreciation to the contact as his own body ushers closer to you.

So touch starved he seemed to be in public spaces. A smile crept on your face. Tanaka sulked with his red cup in hand at the sight of the only official couple in the room.

You could say that Noya was in it with Yachi, but that man fucks with everyone. Last "official couple" was you and Aran, and it will probably stay that way until college graduation or even later than that.

You and Aran were close before college, but one day you just had to not act like what you two were doing was not gay. Going on casual walks like two girl bestfriends in a mall hand in hand like lovers. He thought it was skin-ship, which it was but you honestly piked how he idly leaned closer to your side to avoid the street.

All beside the flashbacks, you set Osamu's phone down and raised your voice. The twins always brung the appliances for the specific occasion in one of their backpacks.

"Hey, A-ron can you get that bagback ?" You said. Aran immediately shot you a face. He didn't liked being called that so he didn't move. Continuing to do what he was doing on his phone.

You groaned. "I can't get it," you tried reaching for the bag on the other side of him. "See ?"

"Yes you can." Aran scoffed.

You groaned boisterously until he finally grabbed the back pack and handed to you. "It's not called bag pack by the way." He said. You hummed as you took out the paper and weed. Holding it between you and Aran.

"So, who's rolling ?"

After Aran rolled, everyone including yourself, sat in somewhat of a circle. By circle I mean some people sat on some pillows and or closer to walls. Chips and any other snacks like skittles were laying throughout the living space. You would remember to clean up along with Tanaka since he brought majority of it.

"Have you guys been into anything freaky ?" Kyotani asked the room. A few necks craned his way as he continued to pick at the black polish on his thumb.

"No. If I did I would probably go to jail because I would tie'er up too tie, and they'll think I was trying murder her." Tanaka said.

Aran put his hand up in Tanakas direction. A signal for him not to finish nor entertain the thought anymore. "You are right however I don't believe you ever fucked anyone before,"

You chuckled. Tanaka shrugged laughing anyway. Osamu perked up afterwards saying he was intrigued by a few, but most didn't feel right with him. A mello and vanilla guy. You secretly hoped he found someone to match him perfectly.

"Let's ask the only two who have actually had sex then !" Tanaka shouted. Kiyoko banged on the walls from her bedroom, warning him to pipe down.

You and Aran are the only ones who have had intercourse and have been in a relationship. Aran shrugged. "It's that ugly ass cut on top of ya head, G." He said. Taking an inhale of the blunt before holding it up to you. He was a bit "loose" now and when he was, he was literally in a different world, and clingly while at it.

You did the same before passing it on to Tanaka in the midst of him physically blowing steam out of his ears before taking the hit.

"Shut up, 'Naka. You too loud. And Aran is right by the way." Atsumu says. Eating a bag of hot fries as he manages the music which was now playing Ocean Frank.

"Anyways," You chuckled. Looking down in your lap was Aran. Eyes lidded as he was playing with one of the strings on his hoodie. You thought he was cute as you backed his head in your chest, as he was laying on his back, legs sprawled in front of him.

"Aran looks faded as hell." Atsumu laughed. You nodded slowly since you were a bit faded aswell. Aran groaned as he got up from his original spot to curl himself in your lap. No reaction was given from the group since everyone didn't really care.

"'M fucking horny." He mumbled. You jolted a bit, but kept cool. Instead you patted his back and rubbing it with a rythym as he hummed. It was unoriginal or anything, but the way he said nearly brung you out of your high.

{ hours went by and eventually you guys got kicked out sooner or later. Kiyoko found half the group dead asleep or still barely snacking on leftovers over candy. You and Aran were probably the main reason though since you both just ended up kissing on her mom's couch.

"Just get fuck out." She calmly said after kicking the others bodies around the room. Opening windows to un-hotbox the room.

"Take care of him by the way. Bye Y/N." She said before shutting her house door in front of your face.

It was 11 AM so you just called an uber and layed Aran down in bed before going to sleep yourself. }

#aran smut #aran ojiro x reader #aran x male reader #aran ojiro x male reader #haikyuu smut #aran ojiro smut #bottom aran ojiro #top male reader #smoking #smoking smut #ZensFics-☆

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joshslater · 4 years

Text

Breeder

Similar stories and bonus material on my Patreon. (Repost without the photo from another tumblr post)

I can’t remember the last time I came that much. Pump after pump of cum up his ass, and as I pulled out, one final squirt between his butt cheeks just to make more of an impression. I looked at his tight, pink T-shirt, his tight, leaking asshole, his smooth, slim legs, and his white calf-high Nike socks. “Fuck, I needed this so badly,” I exhaled and threw myself down on the bed next to him. It was my fault he was almost fully dressed, just barely out of his shorts. When we entered his apartment my juices were almost spilling over. We just kicked off our shoes and I started to grope him while we quickly moved to his bedroom. It had been such a stressful couple of weeks with tons of extra hours. Every day I felt drained of all energy the moment I stepped back into my apartment and hadn’t even had the energy to masturbate since… I don’t even remember. A month? More?

“I could tell,” he said, turning his head sideways looking at me. He was cute, even now that post ejaculation clarity had set in. My eyes had landed on him almost immediately once inside the bar. The radiant blue adidas baseball cap that we wore backward on top of his dirty blonde, shaggy hair and boyish face pulled me in. He was thin, so for him to have such tight clothes he probably shopped in the kids’ section. Just what I was looking for. A tiny twink I could just manhandle and drive hard. Kind of made me feel bad now for how one-sided that fuck must have been.

“I’m… It’s just with everything I haven’t been around much lately.” “Hey, don’t worry about it. We got plenty of time, if you want.”

He was still wearing the backward baseball cap as he lied on his front, looking at me with intense eyes. He wasn’t cute. He was gorgeous. Had I spent more time looking at his face than his butt walking to his place and his back being here I would have noticed earlier, but my dick had made all the decisions up until now. God, he must still be leaking cum into his bed given the size of the load I dumped in him. I wanted to tell him, to help him clean up.

He was biting his lip, still piercing me with his look. “Have you ever played puppy?” That came as a surprise. I’ve never understood that kink, and not just because I always top. I know some tops enjoy barking orders to a pup, or even dress up as an alpha dog, but it’s never been a thing I’ve understood nor at all considered.

“Can’t say that I have.” “Wanna try?”

He propped himself up on his arms, knuckles under his chin, elbows into the mattress. He was back to looking sweet and cute. I felt like I kind of owed him, but it’s not like I was doing him a favor either. Worst case it was nothing interesting and I could check another thing off the list.

“Sure, why not.” “Yass. I’ll get the things.”

He jumped out of bed and hurried out of the bedroom. If it wasn’t for the age check at the bar I wouldn’t have guessed him to be over 17. I assume he has a lot of creams in his bathroom and a strict diet. But then I would never miss a day at the gym. Different things are important to different people. “Take off your clothes” he shouts from another room somewhere. I slowly got up, and couldn’t help to look at the wet spot on the bed sheet where his ass had been.

I took off my jeans, my socks, my watch, and my shirt. I was just about to step out of my jockstrap when came back into the bedroom. “Keep that on for now.” I did as he said. This was his scene to direct. “Put these on.” He handed me a pair of leather wrist cuffs. Up until now it wasn’t clear who would play what role, though I had kind of assumed I would play the dog. Was I the dog? Would he also be a dog? I was kind of liking the uncertainty. The leather cuffs were high quality, and about as easy to secure as you could hope for when doing it on yourself. “And these,” he said as he gave me a pair of thigh straps, also leather. They were easy to secure, though I had no idea where this was going. He was rummaging in one of the drawers for something, and finally found a bottle of what I assumed to be lube. He proceeded to squeeze out a generous amount on the butt plug part of a tail plug. I’ve never seen one in person before. The plug part wasn’t that big, but the tail was huge.

“Now, get on all four.” I dropped down onto the floor. I was actually a bit anxious about this. I’m not an anal virgin, but I haven’t done a lot. I don’t even own a dildo myself. He walked behind me and I braced for impact, but he put the plug on a table and picked up something else. He crouched next to me and attached the wrist cuff with the thigh strap using a short chain with two metal clasps. Then he did the same on the other side. I wasn’t really sure what the purpose of the chains was. It would make moving around a bit awkward, but not stopping me from standing up or anything. He then positioned himself behind me and stuck a lubed finger up my ass and begun to wiggle it. “Not used to this, I feel.” He was damn right, but I was determined to take it like a man. He removed his finger and picked up the butt plug

I could feel him press the plug gently against my asshole, probing it lightly, only to then make a surprise, hard push and shove it all in at once. As soon as the sphincter grabbed it and pushed it into place I knew something was wrong. A shudder went like a wave through the body, and I yelped like a hurt puppy, surprising myself. I tried to cover my mouth as a reflex, but my armed yanked my leg, tripped myself despite already being on all four, and face planted on the carpet. “What the fuck!” I wanted to say, but what came out was an inarticulate “Whaaaff”. Getting real scared now I got up on all four again and frantically struggled to stand up, but somehow the body wouldn’t comply. It was like I couldn’t really grasp how to do it. I realized I was whimpering when he began to stroke me, petting my head like the back of a dog. “There, there. Calm down. There is nothing you can do about it now.”

He stood up and stepped away, while I was trying to figure out what was going on. I took a step forward using my right arm and leg. That worked. I took another step with my left arm and leg. My mind was a whirlwind like I couldn’t focus on anything. I wanted to stand up, but how could you stand up if you are already standing? I let out an “Aooo” of frustration. He was back by my side again with something in his hands. What was his name? Did he ever even tell me his name? “Here, this should make you calmer” He stroked the back of my head a few times, and as much as I hated it, it was soothing. I then felt something cold. He was putting a chain around my neck, and then clasped a leash to it. I don’t know why, but suddenly the noise in my head went silent.

“Good boy!” He stroked my head again. “Let’s go to the door and clean up your mess. Heel!” We started walking out of his bedroom and down his short hallway toward the door. My shoes laid randomly dropped on the floor, and a third shoe. It was one of his. A bright blue Nike air max shoe. The other one was neatly placed next to a row of other shoes. “Did you do that?” he asked and pointed at his shoe. “Bad puppy! Get it.” I raced ahead and bit into the heel of the shoe. It was still warm and smelled of his foot. It wasn’t that cheesy smell of reused socks or the sour note of workout sweat, but a light, earthy smell of everyday feet. Almost a bit like hay. “You like that?” I realized I was breathing in heavily with my nose in his sneaker, biting the ankle collar. I froze. I felt shame. Like I was doing something I shouldn’t be doing.

“Haha, it’s OK,” he said, and ruffled my hair. He proceeded to grab the other two shoes while I placed his sneaker on the floor and tried to dig my face into the opening. I didn’t get very far, but I manage to lick the inside bottom of the shoe. As it turned moist it released more fragrance. I could imagine him out on the streets, sweating during a hot day. Perhaps dashing to catch a ride. It wasn’t a pungent smell, but it was virile. It was the smell of someone with stamina. Then he stole it from me. “Hey, we have more cleanup to do.” I whined as he placed his shoe next to his other one.

Then he dropped on all four too and displayed his ass for me. “You left a mess here.” He didn’t have to say more as I attacked his butt cheeks with my tongue to clean them from my drying cum. It didn’t take many licks to clean him up around the butt hole. I then proceeded to lick the butt and to try to get my tongue as far up his ass as I could. While the taste was all mine, I kept breathing in his scent. It wasn’t at all as rewarding as the shoe. He was clean, had a citrus and cedar tree cologne, and hadn’t sweated much during our brief sex. I wished I would have worked him up harder. I know I could have made him exhausted from pleasure if I wanted to. He must have been squeezing now because my cum just kept coming out of him.

Abruptly he got up, mid lick. “Aw, you’re so hungry. Puppy needs food,” he said and walked into his small kitchen. I followed as fast I could. He opened the fridge and pulled out a few Tupperware containers, and dumped the contents into a dog bowl. He placed it on the floor. Brown rice, salmon, and broccoli. “There. Eat it all up. Puppy must stay strong for daddy.” I dove headfirst into the bowl and started to munch down the bowl of fridge-cold diet food. I realized I was starving and somehow this bland mush felt really satisfying. I started at a ferocious pace, but as I got down to the last quarter I was beginning to feel full. While grateful for the food, how could daddy know how much I could eat. Daddy? What was this nonsense? He’s a fuck I don’t even know the name of I picked up at a bar to breed. I was the top dog here, the alpha. This had to stop. I should stand up, take my stuff, and go. But I couldn’t stand up. I was already standing up. In frustration I howled.

He came back into the kitchen. I hadn’t even noticed him gone. He was wearing shorts again, but a different kind. Grey sweatpant shorts. He quickly sat himself down on the floor next to me, with crossed legs. He grabbed me and gently but firmly tipped me over so my head fell into his lap. “Puppy having a bad dream?” he asked. He didn’t sound mocking or sarcastic. His hand was stroking me on the side. I whimpered into his sweatpants. I could smell him again, the scent of a viril young man. I borrowed my head into his crouch and breathed heavily. I could smell his dick. Citrus, cedar, and precum. I began to lick the cotton fabric. “Good boy. Good boy.” I did nothing to his dick, but I could feel mine swelling in the jockstrap.

He gently pushed me away from him, got up, and filled another bowl with tap water. He placed it next to the first bowl. Then he held out one hand in front of me. I had to get up on all four from my lying position to see what was in it. Two white pills, one small and round and one larger and longer. "Here, take these. They will make you stronger and better.“ I sniffed but all I got was his scent. I licked up both pills in one go and plunged my head into the water bowl to get some water to swallow them with.

He got down on the floor with me again, and started to remove the wrist cuffs and thigh straps, all while stroking me on my back. "I don’t think we need these anymore,” he said. I had no idea what he meant. I was just happy he was touching me. My dick was happy too.

“Come, let’s make you ready for the night,” he said, got up and left the kitchen. I got up on all four and did my best to catch up with him. He walked to his bathroom and opened the door. I rushed to get in before him. “Hey, hey,” he lovingly scolded me. He turned on the light and revealed a large bathroom. Shower, bathtub, washing machine, lots of bottles of shampoo and jars with creams, and a large dog cage. “Sit,” he commanded.

I immediately sat down, pushing the tail plug in a bit. I felt a wave, like a shudder going from the ass through the body. He was looking through the large cupboard. “Ah,” he said and pulled out a small jar. He put on a disposable latex glove, and kneeled in front of my. “Let’s take care of that for you,” he said and freed my dick and balls from the jockstrap. He then dipped a few fingers in the jar and begun to massage some ointment all over my dick and balls. I didn’t recognize the faint smell. I could feel my private parts getting warmer, but if that was the salve or just him rubbing me I couldn’t tell. Then he put everything back into the jockstrap. “Let’s marinate that for a while and tomorrow you will last hours.” I didn’t understand him.

Then he went to the cage and opened it. I could see that the floor of the cage was filled with clothes. T-shirts, sweatshirts, shorts, trunks, socks. It all looked like gym clothes, or at last lazy day attire. “Come here, get in your cage.” There was a small part of me that wanted to hesitate, so I didn’t run in but deliberately walked. I could feel my dick and balls heating up as they fully erect rubbed within my jockstrap. As I got close and closer to the cage I could smell it. It somehow made me excited and I sped up my stride the last few steps into the cage. It was just filled with different scents of him. Not citrus or cedar, but him. Socks he had been running in. A T-shirt he had slept in. A pair of sweatpants that had been through a lot. I just kept moving my head all around the cage. In indecision I just laid down and started to wiggle and rub against everything.

He closed and latched the cage door. “Good night, puppy. Dream about fucking me.” He didn’t need to tell me that.

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silversatin2105 · 3 years

Text

Shaman king Fan fic : A Case of mistaken Identity

This fic has two ends to read to the bottom, This covers a scenario between a Fem- Reader deciding their future list of characters featured below.

Yoh Asakura

Hao Asakura

Anna Kyoyama / Asakura

Fem- Reader

Now with that out of the way enjoy the fic

Main scenario: The ribbon of Destiny

You had been friends with Yoh for four months, Ever since you met him on monument hill one fateful night as you were there to attend to the grave of one of your ancestors, It would have been a brief conversation until you said “By the way can you see that samurai” with those words Yoh’s interest was peeked, For the rest of the night Yoh and you talked He explained that he was a shaman and the samurai explained that he was Amidamaru who had became Yoh’s spirit ally when their goals aligned.

You agreed to meet with Yoh on a nightly basis and so you did, It was a month into these evening meet ups that you noticed you were beginning to have feelings for him however you knew about Anna and she knew about you, Anna did not like these meet ups I mean she really didn’t like them as she punished Yoh for meeting up with you like that, Even though he assured her that it wasn’t like that.

Everything came to a head the night after the comet of destiny appeared, Anna caught you confessing your feelings to Manta, The next thing you felt was the sharp sting of a hand across your cheek and the harsh words that were spoken “I forbid you from seeing Yoh ever again, I will let you go with just this but if you show your face here again I will make sure you suffer in your afterlife”

With these harsh words you broke into tears, Nothing could console you and you knew this would be the only outcome for not dampening these feelings, you KNEW that Yoh and Anna were meant to be but stupidly you held up hope that he would reciprocate those feelings, After that you dropped out of the school you all attended and started attending a school in your district, Any spirits you made friends with in your brief moments in Yoh’s life you ignored and for the most part you returned to the world you came from.

Half a month had passed since you had saw Yoh and you were back to your old life, You studied in your free time for your finals and you focused yourself on getting into a good college as you went back to your primary goal of getting a degree in (Insert what you want to do here), It was late as you left cram school and you knew it was your turn to pick up ingredients for the evening meal as you left the store with meat and rice for the dinner you spot a familiar face, It couldn’t be, Yoh ?

Without a moments thought you ran towards the familiar figure “Yoh, are you alright?, Its been awhi” your words were cut short as you dawned on your mistake, The person in front of you did indeed look like your one time crush but he was different, You could not see warmth in his face and as you looked into his face you noticed a deep sadness, Your thoughts trailed on as you had noticed you hadn’t spoke since the hick up you only snapped back when the figure in front of you began to speak.

“Hello miss you seem to have spaced out there, Are you okay?” He enquired as you stepped back from him; you collected your self and did a bow of apology.

“I’m sorry you look a lot like someone I used to know” You managed to speak out, your face turning red as you hid in the folds of your scarf, Something must have amused the familiar stranger as he burst into a mocking laugh, He gripped his sides as he continued to laugh.

“Wow the people in this country really are polite” He remarked whilst regaining his composure, Soon after he stopped laughing he introduced himself as Hao, The future king , this statement you found strange but you put it to the back of your mind as one of his eccentricities.

He asked you to meet him tomorrow night at the same time to which you agreed with caution, You made your way home to which you were scolded for being back late after your apologies and a bath you went to bed with so many questions on your mind.

Throughout the next day you couldn’t focus at school, Were you actually going to meet up with that Hao guy or were you going to go straight home and forget your encounter with him, Every hour that passed you flitted between your going and your not going with one final decision and out of actual curiosity you agreed to meet up with Hao.

Walking thought the darkening streets you found your way back to where just a day ago you met Hao, He waited there for you and offered you a sat by him, After a brief conversation in which you asked him the important questions of why he asked to meet you and what was his intentions he stood up and brushed himself off.

“If you want to know, Walk with me” Hao spoke out whilst walking away from you as you stood to follow and within no time the streets turned into woodland, If you weren’t curious about what he had to offer, This would be the part where you would book it and go home but still your curiosity still had a hold on you.

After walking for what felt like an hour you both came to a clearing that was far from town, Hao stopped walking and turned to face you with an eyebrow raised as he crossed his arms and sat on the floor.

“Before I tell you what I have to say I must find out if I can trust you, What are your intentions with the one called Yoh” He questioned in a tone that you knew if you answered with anything less that the truth would lead to dire consequences.

“I bare Yoh no ill will, I used to have feelings for him but I knew that it was stupid to, we have not spoke since his fiancé told me to back off, I went back to my life and that’s, that” you answered looking Hao dead in the eye, Your heart pounding in fear of what could happen, Its true that he looked like Yoh but you could sense he was a different kind of person, With Yoh you knew he’d never hurt you but with this person you were sure he’d kill you if you put a toe out of line.

“I see, So you have no ties to him at this moment in time” He asked.

“No like I said I have not seen him since Anna scolded me” You replied.

Hao then stood up and paced around looking deep in thought “Usually id kill any outsider that would be threat to my plans, But I find you interesting so ill let you live, Spirit of fire, this girl isn’t to be touched” you wondered what he meant with that, You were about to enquire when before you appeared to be a red demon cloaked in flames offering its hand to Hao.

“Now if you wish to know more, Meet me here tomorrow night If not go back to your life and I assure you we will not meet again” Hao remarked before disappearing from your sight, You found your way back to town and went home to mull things over.

I could not decide on what the reader would decide so to end the argument I will dedicate a page each to 2 sub scenarios 1 in which the reader doesn’t follow Hao and 1 where she does and you can decide which 1 you like the best

Scenario diverge: Plume of white Daisies.

(This scenario covers the reader’s choice in remaining at home and the results of this action)

There was no way you could go with him, Hao may have spared your life but that did not mean you owed him anything, You owed it to yourself to put this whole incident behind you and be content that for a brief time in your life you were a minor character in something important.

The next day at school all who knew you were shocked out of speaking, You walked into class and took your seat as one of your classmates broke the silence.

“why did you cut your hair? (insert name),I thought you were growing it” they asked as you looked at them with a warm smile and replied whilst opening your text book.

“I Just fancied a change of pace”

Years passed and the brief time you spent as part of the shaman world had faded from your mind, You were now an adult and now worked in the field of your dreams and were engaged to your S/O who you met whilst studying for your (insert field) Degree, You no longer lived in your hometown as you had to go where the work was however you returned every summer and winter for a week.

During one of your returns to your hometown you decided to visit the grave of your ancestor, not much had changed since your last visit there other than the fact that the grave looked to be attended to frequently and that Daises had began to grow upon the grave.

As you left the old graveyard, You spot a familiar face in the distance approaching a group of people, You came to recognise the tallest one as your long lost school crush and the other as you presumed right now wife, A little boy clings to the legs of his mother.

With a slight nod to them both you make your way back to your parents home, Petals of daises fill the air as you walk towards the future.

End Scene

Scenario Diverge: Scent of hibiscus

(this covers the readers choice to follow Hao and the results of this action)

The morning after you were given the ultimatum from Hao, whether to remain in your world or follow him into the dangerous world of shamans and spirit fight, your mind was made up, You would follow Hao and learn what you could of the world he lives in.

It was early morning as you checked downstairs to make sure the house was empty, It was as your parents had left for work, You began packing a bag of the things you thought you would need and you wrote letters to your loved ones explaining that you were okay and that you didn’t want to be found.

When night approached you stood where Hao told you to meet him, you held you packed bag on one shoulder as you paced waiting for him hoping it wasn’t a trick, hoping that you didn’t need to go home and awkwardly say that your letters were a prank.

“Ahh you showed up, Right choice” You heard a familiar voice say as you turned to face Hao.

“Yes I did now show me what’s to be done”

You spoke out before you both disappeared into the night.

Years had started to pass, In that time you had trained under the watch of Hao and had become his Itako, You both travelled from place to place brining spirits (usually by force) to his side, You did go home from time to time al though meet ups with your family usually ended in arguments, Your parents accused Hao of derailing your path to success and that you could have been more than you are right now.

You didn’t care, You never regretted your actions not even when Yoh looked at you with suspicion when he saw you at the tournament nor when Anna accosted you intending to tell you the truth, The shock on her face was priceless when you told her you knew and didn’t care.

one night whilst sitting down for a cup of tea, you and Hao spoke of the past and the night you both met, he joked of your embarrassment before giving you a bouquet of aromatic hibiscus that to your shock had a ruby ring on one stem, that moment he got down on his knee and smirked.

“Well will you be my queen?”

“You need not ask my king”

End Scene

#shaman king #asakura hao #asakura yoh #yoh asakura #hao asakura #anna kyoyama #anna asakura #reader x character #fan fic #writers gonna write

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inkjam-moon · 3 years

Text

Code of Silence Ch 6 - The Set Up (M)

Genre: Mafia AU, light fluff, smut

Member: Min Yoongi

Word Count: 6.4K

TW: swearing, mafia talk, hospital talk, blood mention, sex talk, blowjob mention, shooting, death mention, stitches mention, tiny argument, riding, fingering, breast play, accidental creampie

“Yoongi cut it out.” You giggle as Yoongi’s lips ravage your neck, his hands sliding all along your body until they land on your ass, squeezing it roughly. He’s had you pinned against the door to his office for the last five minutes, his hips pressing against you so you can feel just how hard he is, the feeling driving you insane with want.

“You still haven’t answered me.” He growls. “Where were you this morning? I rolled over to say good morning only to find the bed empty.” He lightly nips at your collarbone.

“I told you.” You gasp. “I had to help Taehyung and his mom this morning.”

“Is Taehyung so important you couldn’t say goodbye?” He whines.

“It’s the first full night of sleep you’ve gotten in a week.” You chide, pushing on his chest to stop him for a moment. “So yes. I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Next time wake me.” He pouts. “I don’t need sleep.”

You roll your eyes at him. “Yes you do. Otherwise you get grumpy.”

“Grumpy?” He scoffs. “What am I? Five?”

“Why do you think we haven’t had sex all week?” You grumble, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Now who’s grumpy?”

You open your mouth to retort, but before you can say anything, there’s a knock on the door that you’re pressed against.

“What is it?” Yoongi barks, clearly upset at being interrupted.

“Boss? Um, we’ve got some intel that a couple boys from Busan are at the south docks. Do you want us to send someone out?”

“Shit…” Yoongi sighs, resting his forehead against your shoulder. “How many?”

“Just two or three.” You can tell from the voice now that it’s Namjoon.

“Alright. Get five ready, I’ll be out in a second.”

“Got it.” Namjoon states before you hear his footsteps disappearing.

“Sorry baby.” Yoongi presses a kiss to your shoulder. “This is going to have to wait a bit.”

“Yoongi,” You grab him by the lapels of his jacket as he turns to leave, stopping him. “Be careful.”

He smiles and cups your cheek. “It’s just a check. I’ll be home before dinner, alright?” You nod and let him go, watching as he goes over to his desk and grabs his gun, hiding it in the holster under his jacket before walking back over to you and placing a kiss on your lips. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Soon.” You nod. Stepping out of the way and watching Yoongi walk out the door and down the hallway, disappearing down the stairs. Soon. It’s his promise, it has been in the month since you started sleeping together.

Since you and Yoongi are closer than ever, you can’t help but worry every time he goes out on patrols or checks; with Busan encroaching farther into Daegu territory, it gets more and more dangerous every time he goes out. You don’t like saying goodbye when he leaves; there’s too much finality to the word; so he started promising to ‘see you soon’, letting you gain comfort in the thought that he promises to return to you, safe and sound.

You sigh as you lean against the door frame before heading over to Yoongi’s desk and grabbing your bag off his chair where he threw it as soon as you walked in the door. You can’t lie, the lack of intimacy in the last week or so has gotten to you too; having become accustomed to sleeping with Yoongi three or four times a week minimum, the lengthy absence is driving you mad with an unquenchable thirst, an overwhelming desire to be touched, but because Busan is trying harder to creep in, Yoongi is out more, sleeping less, and hardly around the house or his office. You miss him.

You close the door to Yoongi’s office behind you and lock it as a familiar face pops it’s head around the corner of the stairs.

“Y/N! Just who I was looking for.”

“Tae, you saw me this morning.” You remind him as you walk toward him.

“I know.” He nods. “But I have news I didn’t have this morning.”

“You can tell me on the way to the car. I have to get home and start dinner.”

Taehyung sighs. “Doll, you know he’s probably not going to be home in time. I just saw them all leave, seemed pretty serious.”

You shake your head as you reach the bottom of the stairs and head over to the bar, checking sales as Taehyung comes up behind you. “He promised me it was just a check.”

“So were the last three…” Taehyung reminds you, making your heart sink in your chest.

“Taehyung.” You growl, alerting him to stop before he pisses you off. You hate to admit it, but he’s right. It always turns into something bigger, more urgent.

“Alright alright fine. This isn’t about you anyway, it’s about me.” He huffs crossing his arms as you say goodnight to the staff and make your way through the kitchen and out the back door.

“What is it Tae?”

“I’d like to formally invite you and Yoongi out to dinner tomorrow night.”

Your brow furrows in confusion. “Did I forget something? It’s not December, so it can’t be your birthday.” Taehyung shakes his head, a wide grin scrunching up his face. He looks like he’s about to burst. “Do I have to guess?”

“I want you guys to meet my new boyfriend!” Taehyung squeals.

“New- Oh my god!” You squeak, clapping your hands in excitement. “What the fuck, why didn’t you tell me this morning?” You ask, smacking him on the arm.

“I wanted to make sure it was okay with him! We’ve only been together for a month or so, but I asked him this afternoon if it was okay to tell you and he said he wanted to meet you!”

“Aw Tae!” You grab him and pull him into a tight hug. “I’m so happy for you. Of course we’ll have dinner with you. Why don’t the two of you come over to our place?” You pull back and see Taehyung’s eyes sparkling. You haven’t seen him this happy in a long time.

“You’re the best doll. Wanna say… Seven?”

“Seven sounds perfect.” You smile back at him.

“Alright, um… Do you want some company tonight?” Taehyung asks, worry written on his face as he looks at you.

You can’t help but smile at him. “Why not? The least you can do is distract me.” You state, unlocking the car. “Hop in.”

Taehyung grins widely as you both jump into your car before you pull out of the parking lot and out onto the street making the drive back to your apartment. When you arrive, you shut the car off and you both get out, making your way up the walk, into the building, and up to your apartment.

“I’m going to go change, do you want to see what we have in the fridge?” You ask, walking over to Yoongi’s room.

“I’m on it!” Taehyung cheers as you disappear into the room.

You change into a pair of shorts and one of Yoongi’s old sweatshirts that he never wears anymore. You don’t think you’ve seen him wear comfy clothes since you got married, just a lot of stuffy suits and dress clothes. You remember when you first met; all he wore were sweatshirts and jeans. You shrug as you grab a hair tie and pull your hair into a messy bun as you walk back out to the kitchen, seeing Taehyung has already turned on the stove and is chopping something on a cutting board. You decide to voice your observation to Taehyung as you flick on the tv for background noise.

“Do you ever notice that Yoongi never wears anything except suits and dress clothes?”

“I’m sure you’ve seen him in less.” Taehyung smirks.

You smack his arm as you walk up to him and lean against the counter next to him. “I’m serious. I don’t think I ever see him in just a t-shirt and jeans anymore. Honestly, I don’t even know if he still owns jeans…”

“Of course he’s always dressed up.” Taehyung laughs, handing you the knife in his hand. “Here, chop.” You move to stand where Taehyung was and start slicing up vegetables for him as he continues, moving to heat up a pan on the stove and turning on the rice cooker. “Think of his job doll. Do you think people would take him seriously in a t-shirt and jeans? Your dad taught him better than that. It comes with the title.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” You ponder the thought for a few moments as you continue chopping before changing the subject. “So, tell me about this boyfriend.”

“You’re going to meet him tomorrow.” Taehyung grins, a light blush dusting his cheeks.

“Excuse me. I need to know details!” You exclaim, grabbing the pork belly and laying it in the hot pan with a bit of oil. “Where did you meet?”

“Uncle Min’s party actually.”

“Really? Do I know him?”

“I don’t think so. He’s not in the family, I think he just happened to be there that night.”

You nod as you listen, adding the vegetables to their own pan. “So what’s his name?”

“Jimin. Park Jimin.” Even though your back is toward Taehyung, you can hear the smile in his voice.

“And do I get to see a picture of the mysterious Jimin?”

“Mm.” Taehyung searches his pockets for his phone, pulling it out once he locates it, and scrolls through his photos until he finds the one he’s looking for. He holds it up for you to see and you smile. It’s a picture of Taehyung with his eyes closed, his nose pressed against the cheek of an attractive boy with plump lips and an adorable eye smile.

“Aw, Tae you look so happy. He’s cute too.”

“Isn’t he?”

“So tell me more about him.”

“Um… He’s a few months older than me, but he’s a lot shorter. He likes to dance and is part of some contemporary group thing. His laugh sounds like an angel’s, he’s got deliciously thick thighs, ugh…” He trails off, taking the food off the stove and placing it on the plates you took out.

“And since I know you’d ask me this, what’s he got between those thick thighs?” You tease.

“Oh come on doll, it’s not like that.” He giggles.

“Don’t lie to me in my own house Tae.”

“Well,” He blushes harder. “We haven’t gone all the way yet, but let’s just say it’s a monster and I’m glad he’s a bottom.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Thick thighs don’t lie.”

“I’m telling you, this thing is huge. I could barely get my mouth around it.”

“And that’s an image I definitely didn’t need.” You smack Taehyung’s chest, grabbing the plates and setting them on the table before walking over to the fridge to grab drinks. As you grab a bottle of wine, you hear the newswoman say ‘breaking news’ and can’t help but tune your ears to listen.

“Shots fired at the southern docks, leaving three dead.”

The bottle falls from your hand and crashes to the floor, shattering to pieces as you walk over to the tv and turn it up.

“Police are currently investigating a shooting at Daegu’s southern docks that happened only moments ago. Our field reporter Woo Chisun is on the scene. Chisun?”

The video cuts to the on scene reporter as you feel Taehyung kneel down next to you and wrap his arm around your shoulders, holding you tight.

“Thank you Hae Im. Police responded to a civilian 911 call stating that they heard shots fired at the southern docks. Witnesses say they heard a loud argument before at least ten shots were fired in quick succession, followed by the sound of tires squealing. Though the deceased have not yet been identified, we do know that there are at least three victims, and several blood trails that suggest one or more of the assailants may be wounded. With no leads on any suspects, we can’t help but wonder; will Daegu sleep safely tonight?”

Yoongi steps out of the car and pulls out his gun to check the rounds in his magazine before clicking it back into place. "So how many are supposed to be here?" He asks.

"Just three, boss."

"Alright." Yoongi stops and turns to face the group. "Joon, Big Kim, I want you on the left. Ji Ho, Dad, on the right. Jin, you're with me. Let's get some eyes on them, see what they're up to first. Then we'll go in and get them off of our turf."

"Hell yeah."

"Let's do it."

The rest of the men voice their agreement. "Alright. Remember, keep it quiet, keep it low, you know the signal. Let's go."

They split up and head down separately through the maze of cargo containers, Jin following closely behind Yoongi as they sneak along the path, ducking around corners to check for intruders. They finally make it up to the marina, not having seen anyone else so far. Yoongi turns to Jin, but before he can signal to him, he hears a sudden commotion and then the sound of gunshots.

"Yoongi!"

That sounded like Namjoon. Shit. Yoongi turns the corner to investigate and sees the cause, a piece of shit with a gun, aiming to his right where Namjoon and Big Kim are located.

"These mother fuckers." Yoongi grunts, aiming his sights, and then pulling the trigger, quickly incapacitating the Busan gunner, but mere seconds after Yoongi pulls the trigger he feels an unbearable pain in his side. "Ah, fuck!" Yoongi clutches his abdomen as he leans against the cargo container.

"Boss!" Seokjin yells, immediately taking out the gunner on top of the container that shot Yoongi. "Shit, hang in there Yoongi." He crouches down beside Yoongi. "We've got one out of the nest!" Seokjin yells to no one in particular. There are a few more gunshots before everything goes quiet.

"Seokjin?" Someone calls.

"Over here!" Seokjin responds. It's a few seconds before Min rounds the corner.

"Shit. Yoongi." Min crouches down beside his son. "We've gotta get out of here, this place will be crawling with cops in a few minutes. where were you hit?" He turns to Yoongi.

Yoongi reveals his bloody abdomen, wincing. "H-here."

"That looks bad." Namjoon states, leaning over his brother's shoulder.

"Namjoon, call the hospital; Seokjin, get the car; Kim, help me get him."

Big Kim and Min both scoop up Yoongi, but as they get him to his feet , Yoongi collapses.

"Yoongi!"

“Y/N, breathe.” You let out the shaky breath you didn’t realize you were holding as tears fall from your eyes. “Let me call and see what’s going on. Stay here.”

You can’t move, you can hardly force your lungs to keep breathing. Your mind is blank and whirring with static until it lands on one singular thought: Yoongi. You lunge for the coffee table where you left your phone earlier and immediately press his name. It rings. It rings forever until you get his answering machine. You hang up and try again, and again, and again to no avail. You don’t realize it but you’re quietly chanting Yoongi’s name, over and over to yourself as you try to reach him.

“Shit…” You hear Taehyung next to you. “I… I can’t get a hold of anyone.”

“Yoongi… Yoongi… Yoongi… Yoongi…” You mumble to yourself, dialing and redialing his number, getting his voicemail every time until Taehyung squats next to you and grabs your shoulders.

“Doll, look at me.” You ignore him, trying to grab your phone which he knocked out of your hand. “Y/N… Y/N!” Taehyung snaps, shaking you.

“I can’t- I can’t go through this again Tae. I can’t do this again. I can’t lose him too. I can’t… I can’t lose him!!” You burst, tears now flooding your vision as Taehyung pulls you flush against his chest.

“It’s not him. It’s not, it can’t be. He’s okay Y/N-ah, he’s going to be okay. I promise.”

“I can’t lose him too…” You whimper, hyperventilating as Taehyung holds you close. The two of you stay like this for what feels like mere seconds, but it’s been an hour, and you still haven’t heard anything, not even from the tv. You cry into Taehyung’s chest as he shushes and attempts to soothe you until you hear a buzzing. Taehyung’s phone. He grabs it off the couch and answers it.

“Hello? Yeah I’m with her… Got it. We’ll be there in ten.” He hangs up and stands, lifting you to your feet and you wince, falling back on the couch, looking down at your feet to see them all cut up and bloodied from the shattered wine bottle. Taehyung shoves his phone in his pocket and then lifts you up bridal style, grabbing your keys and then carrying you out the door and down to your car. He places you in the passenger seat before shutting the door and then climbing into the driver’s seat, quickly pulling out of the parking lot and speeding towards the center of town.

You want to ask what’s going on, but you can’t speak. You can only sniffle. Taehyung wouldn’t answer anyway, he’s too focused on driving, and in a matter of minutes you arrive at your destination. The hospital.

He parks around back, getting out and picking you back up, carrying you in the ambulance entrance where Big Kim is waiting for you.

“Is she okay?” He asks when he sees you’re being carried.

“She’s got glass in her feet and she’s pretty shaken. She might be in shock. Where is he?”

“Come with me.” Big Kim takes you out of Taehyung’s arms and carries you over to a back elevator with Taehyung close behind. You all get in and it takes you up to the third floor where he walks you down a long empty hallway to the back wing of the hospital where all of the private rooms are located. He brings you into room 337, the same room where your father died, and you see Yoongi lying in a hospital bed, unconscious, covered in bruises and bandages. “He just got out of surgery.” Big Kim states, placing you in the chair next to Yoongi’s bed.

“What happened?” You ask, scooting as close as you can to Yoongi and grabbing hold of his hand.

“Busan.” Uncle Min’s voice comes into the room. “We were ambushed at the docks. It was all a set up.” He walks over to you and puts a hand on your shoulder as he squats down in front of you. “Breathe joka, he’s going to be okay.” He nods, looking over at Big Kim he adds, “Go find a nurse for me,” before turning back to you. “Yoongi took a bad hit, because something blew his cover, but it missed all of his major organs and muscles, he’s going to make a full recovery.” A weight seems to lift off your shoulders at Min’s words. “And except for Yoongi, no one got hit.”

Just then, a familiar face walks into the room, it’s Hye Soo. “Y/N, I was wondering when you’d get here.” She greets you warmly.

“Hye Soo, I think our girl here might be in shock, and her feet are cut up pretty badly, would you mind taking a look?” Min asks.

“Of course.” Hye Soo grabs some supplies from the cabinet in the room before walking over to you. She does a basic check on you; blood pressure, pulse, oxygen level; before putting an IV in your arm and hooking you up to a bag of fluids as well as injecting a relaxant into your IV before moving onto your feet; cleaning them, removing the glass shards, and then bandaging them. She talks to Min the entire time, knowing that the only thing you’re focused on right now is Yoongi.

He’s so still, so calm, he’s never this motionless in his sleep, so they must have him on some heavy sedatives. You bring his hand up to your mouth and close your eyes, placing a kiss against his fingers. After a few minutes you and Hye Soo are the only ones left in the room as she finishes bandaging you up.

“I didn’t want you to get hurt. Why does everyone close to me always get hurt…?” You whisper against Yoongi's hand.

“Don’t blame yourself.” Hye Soo states as she stands. “Yoongi chose this life. He knew what was at stake. He knows the risks and he’s willing to take them. It’s not your fault. Besides, he’ll be up soon. It’s mostly artificial.” You only nod to show you heard her before she pats you on the head and leaves you alone with Yoongi.

You know that. You know he’s going to wake up. You understand what she’s trying to say, but the more you sit here, the more you realize that Taehyung and Yoongi are the only things in the world that you have left; and to see either one of them hurt, artificial or not, shatters you into pieces.

Silent tears slip down your cheeks as you clutch Yoongi’s hand between both of yours, your forehead pressed against your hands as you mumble to him. “I never wanted you to get hurt… I’m so sorry… It should be me…”

“Y... Y/N…” Yoongi mumbles, causing your head to bolt upright. “Y/N-ah…?” His eyes flutter open and slowly focus on you.

“Yoongi…” You gasp, elated beyond words at the sight of his beautiful brown eyes staring back at you.

The corners of his mouth turn up in the smallest smile as he sighs deeply. “Did I miss dinner?”

A choked laugh comes from your throat as you release his hand and wipe your tears away. “Just by a few hours.”

“Damn. I was really looking forward to it too.” He grimaces as he attempts to sit up, but it’s obviously too painful for him.

“Yoongi-”

“I’m alright.” He states, laying back down against the pillows before he reaches out to take hold of your hand, squeezing it tightly. “Why the tears?” He asks, concern in his eyes.

You reach your unoccupied hand up to your cheeks to feel the wetness of tears on your cheeks again. You hadn’t even realized you were doing it. “I’m just happy you’re okay.” You mumble, wiping the tears away.

“I’m not going anywhere jagiya.” Yoongi whispers. Your heart races at the pet name and you’re thankful Yoongi’s eyes are shut again so he can’t see the hot blush on your cheeks. “They’re going to have to try harder than that.” He smirks.

Three days later, Yoongi is allowed to return home on the condition that he takes the rest of the week off to rest and heal and Yoongi agreed; although, you believe he would’ve said anything to get out of the hospital.

You and Taehyung help Yoongi up to the apartment before Taehyung says goodnight to go on a date with Jimin. You wave goodbye and shut the door, helping Yoongi over to the couch to get him settled before walking over to the kitchen to get his medications sorted out for the next few days. Yoongi’s father agreed to watch over things until Yoongi gets back on his feet, so the two of you can relax for a few days until Yoongi gets restless, which you know he will; he can’t stay away from work for too long.

“Y/N-ah?” Yoongi calls to you, interrupting your thoughts.

“Hm?” You turn to face him to see him watching you intently.

“Can you help me up so I can take a shower? I need to wash off this hospital funk.”

“O-oh, sure.” You nod, putting down the last bottle of medicine before walking over to him and helping him to his feet. He can walk on his own well enough, it’s the getting up and sitting down part that he’s not great at because it still hurts his abdomen. With one arm around his waist, you walk him into his room and then into the bathroom and start the shower, turning to see him standing there a bit awkwardly.

“Would you um…” His cheeks turn pink as he speaks. “Can you- I still can’t lift my arms well… Would you mind?” He tugs at his clothes.

“Right, of course.” You giggle as you walk over to him, wondering why he’s suddenly so shy. You very carefully lift Yoongi’s shirt up off his body and deposit it on the floor, but when you go to reach for his belt, you stop, coming face to face with the sight of his injury for the first time.

You can’t help but stare; the way his beautiful pale skin is puckered and pink around the stitches, still tender by the way his abdomen flexes as you brush your thumb against his hip, not even touching the wound.

“It’s hideous.” Yoongi states, catching sight of himself in the mirror and walking closer to inspect.

You shake your head, walking up behind him and placing your hands on his shoulders. “It’s you.” He smiles at your words in the reflection and the two of you stand like that for a moment before you shake your head again. “Come on, you’re wasting hot water.” You scold as he turns to face you. You grab his belt again and move to undo it when he stops your hands, grabbing your face and pulling you towards him for a soft kiss.

“I think I can take it from here.” He mumbles against your lips, making you giggle.

“Right, I forgot. ‘No unnecessary exercise’.” You quote the doctor’s words. “I’ll go start dinner. Yell if you need me, yeah?”

“Of course.” Yoongi kisses you once more before letting you go, watching you walk out of the bathroom and shut the door behind you. Yoongi’s doctor tried very politely to tell you no sex until Yoongi was better, but didn’t want to say it in front of Yoongi’s mother, so he just said ‘no unnecessary exercise’ and then winked as if your mother-in-law was clueless.

You head back to the kitchen and take one of your own prescribed pain medications for your feet; while the scrapes have mostly healed, they’re still a bit tender to walk on; and then you start dinner. You don’t make anything special, just some jjapaguri with steak; you’re honestly too tired to do anything else. Even though you haven’t been doing much at the hospital, just being there has taken so much energy out of you.

Just as you’re filling two bowls up with the delicious noodles and meat, you hear footsteps coming out of Yoongi’s room. Perfect timing. You grab the bowls and some chopsticks and meet Yoongi in front of the couch, placing the bowls on the coffee table before helping him sit down. He nods gratefully as he accepts the help and then the warm dinner you hold out to him before you grab your own bowl and take your normal seat on the other side of the loveseat. You flick the tv on and the two of you sit in silence as you watch reruns of an old game show.

As you slurp up your dinner, you can’t help but feel an awkwardness in the air. Since sex is off the table, it’s as though the two of you are back to square one; two strangers stuck in an arranged marriage, neither one knowing how to act around the other. You thought you were making progress with Yoongi, but maybe you really weren’t? Was sex actually making it harder for you to get closer to him? Have you even had an actual conversation since the two of you started fucking? Is sex all he wanted? Was that the whole reason he tried to get close to you? Maybe he actually cares… Are you overthinking it?

You don’t realize how far you’ve zoned out until Yoongi gently squeezes your arm, snapping you back to the present.

“You alright?” He asks.

“Y-yeah.” You nod, shrugging him off. “Just… thinking about some stuff.”

Yoongi seems concerned, but he doesn’t press the matter. “I’m here if you want to talk.” He assures you. You nod and go back to your noodles.

When you’re both finished eating, you take your dishes to the kitchen and clean up after yourself before heading back over to the couch. Yoongi pats the cushion closest to him and you can’t help but smile, taking a seat on his good side as he wraps his arm around your shoulder, pulling you close. After a few moments you hear him inhale deeply and look up to see what he’s doing.

“You smell good.” He shrugs.

“Thanks? I showered this morning.”

“I missed the way you smell. Smells so much better than hospital.”

“Most things smell better than the hospital." You giggle when he inhales again.

"Just let me enjoy this please?" He asks. You simply nod as Yoongi buries his nose in your hair, smiling against you as he does.

It's been four days since Yoongi came home from the hospital, and just as you expected, he's as restless as ever. He's constantly pacing around the apartment on the phone with various people from work who all tell him the same thing: "Get some rest boss". The only person who updates him is his father, and even Min is tired of Yoongi's phone calls , frequently ending them with "Go relax" even though he knows Yoongi will call him again in an hour.

The last time Yoongi called him, he only said "Go spend time with your wife" before immediately hanging up. So here you are, trying to watch a movie while tension radiates off Yoongi in waves. You've tried everything to calm him down; board games, video games, movies, relaxing baths, cooking , baking; but so far, nothing has worked. He's just so unbelievably wound up and you feel like there's nothing you can do.

You sigh as you get up , walking over to the kitchen to get a bottle of water from the fridge.

"Yoongi, do you want anything?" You ask as you hold the fridge door open.

"I want to go back to work."

"I meant to drink." You grumble.

"No."

You shut the door, albeit, a bit aggressively, before walking back over to the couch and flopping yourself down on it. "So how much longer are you going to be an asshole? Because I can just leave if you want."

Yoongi sighs this time, grabbing your arm. "Don't go. I'm sorry. I'm just... I'm so frustrated."

"No kidding." You scoff, unintentionally reverting Yoongi back into irritated silence. You turn to face him. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I should be in Busan right now, fucking up those pricks for what they did!"

"So you can get shot again? I don't think so."

"Then what am I supposed to do? Let it go?"

"No." You shake your head. "You make a plan. Before you go in there guns blazing and make a mistake. You need a plan."

"A plan..." Yoongi ponders this.

You nod. "They set you up, so you figure out how to give it right back to them. Like you always do."

"What do you suggest?" Yoongi inquires.

You think for a moment. "How about a seizure?" Yoongi's eyebrows quirk up in obvious interest, asking you to continue. "We know drugs are their main export, so we get in there and we either take it and dump it, or we make it unusable. I remember abeoji talking about when he did it once. It pissed them off, but they were quiet for a long time so they could rebuild their stock and pay off their debts."

"Y/N-ah... You're a genius." Yoongi smiles for the first time in days. "But how do we get information?" He rubs his chin in thought.

"We send someone in."

Yoongi's eyes snap back up to meet yours. "What?" He asks in disbelief.

"We have to infiltrate, to get someone in there to give us information. It's the only way."

"Unfortunately, I think you're right." Yoongi agrees. "I'll make some calls-"

"Ah!" You push Yoongi back against the couch when he tries to get up. "You go back to work in two days. It can wait." You chide.

"Y/N, I-"

"No." You shake your head. "Just think about it for now. Get it figured out in your head first, then you can start organizing it when you get to work Tuesday."

Yoongi smirks. "You know you're just like him."

Yoongi's comment catches you off guard. "W-What?"

"Especially when you're scolding me. You have the same tone." He chuckles softly, squeezing your side as he scoots closer and puts his arm around your waist. "I'm sorry for being unbearable this week." He mumbles, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

"Unbearable is putting it lightly." You tease.

"Mm." Another kiss. "And yet you kept me around."

"I couldn't just throw you out. You're injured. Which reminds me, if you ever get shot again? I'll shoot you."

Yoongi sighs with a soft laugh as he rests his forehead against your temple. "What I wouldn't give to be able to actually move again."

"You don't need to move, you've been pushing it as is." You scold once more. Suddenly Yoongi tilts your face toward him and this time, places a kiss on your lips, making you giggle. "What was that?"

"Every time you scold me I'm going to kiss you to make you stop."

"Oh is that so?" You ask. He nods. "Well it's true, you need to re-" A kiss. "It's the doctor's orders-" Another. "At least until you get your stitches-" One more, except this time his lips don't leave you, they stay pressed against yours.

It isn't long after that he tilts his head, deepening the kiss. After a few more moments, his tongue flicks out against your lips, but you hesitate.

“Yoongi, your doctor said-“

“I don’t care.” His lips find yours again and this time you give in.

Having not done anything for two weeks makes you feel a bit more desperate than usual, and you quickly become a bit aggressive, pushing back at his tongue with your own as you lace your hands in his hair and tug on it.

"Ah~" He whimpers. "Not so hard." He smirks at you before leaning forward a bit to place a hot kiss against your jaw.

"Mm. My bad." You tug softer this time.

"Did someone miss me?" He growls in your ear.

"You have no idea."

Yoongi chuckles at this before he pushes you back and tries to climb on top of you, but then he hisses in pain. "Aish..."

"Are you alright?"

Yoongi grimaces as he leans back against the couch. "Yeah, I'm okay." He sighs. "Just didn't think it would hurt that much. I guess..." Another sigh. "Fuck, I'm sorry. I don't think-"

"Oh no, hold that thought." You stop him before he can turn you down and climb into his lap. He stares up at you in awe as his hands find your hips and then reach down to squeeze your ass.

"This could work. You look good like this baby." He grabs your shirt and pulls it off over your head to reveal that you went without a bra today. "Even better. Goddamn you are sexy."

"Thanks, but if you don't fuck me in the next thirty seconds, I'm gonna be sexy and angry." You state, pulling his sweatpants down his hips.

"Anything for you jagiya." He unties the string on your shorts and as you stand up he tugs them and your underwear off before slipping out of his own boxers and then tugging you back into his lap where he immediately slips two fingers inside you.

"Ah, Yoongi~" You gasp, gripping his shoulders.

"Gotta get you ready for me baby. It's been a while."

"Yoongi please just fuck me I can't wait any longer."

Yoongi grabs your thighs and pulls you close before rubbing his length against your entrance. "Whenever you're ready." He presses against you and you quickly sink down on to him with a satisfied groan.

"Fuck, hnng Yoongi." You dig your fingernails into his shoulders.

"Jesus you're tight." He hisses through his teeth.

Even though it's still a bit much, you start moving, desperate for the feeling of him moving inside you. He feels amazing, so amazing. You throw your head back, already lost in the pleasure between your thighs.

"God you're beautiful." Yoongi mumbles, running his hand up your side.

"Y-Yoongi..." You blush as his hands move to your breasts, squeezing them enough to make you even needier. You bounce faster in his lap, but even though you've always been confident in yourself, his comment makes you want to cover yourself up, but makes your core tighten around him at the same time.

"So fucking beautiful." Yoongi smacks your ass. You move your arms to try and cover yourself, but Yoongi stops you. "Don't you dare cover yourself." He growls, moving your arms out of the way. "I want to see all of you like this."

Yoongi holds your wrists as he watches you fuck yourself on his length, mesmerized by the sight. The look in his eyes makes you feel hot, and it isn't long before you feel your high approaching.

"You've never looked this sexy baby."

"Yoongi I-I..."

"Fuck I'm so close." Yoongi moans. "Go harder for me." He commands. You obey, smacking your hips against him harder as he lets go of one of yours wrists and brings his hand down to play with your clit. "So fucking beautiful jagi , I love you."

"Ah~!" Your orgasm slams into you as your hips falter, your hands gripping Yoongi's shoulders again as pleasure shoots through your nerves. The tightening caused by your orgasm sends Yoongi into his own high , not giving him time to pull out before he fills you with his hot release.

The two of you sit for a long time, trying to catch your breath as your highs recede. You sit up, peeling your sweaty, sticky chest off of Yoongi's as both of you shiver from the overstimulation it causes. As your brain regains cognizant function once more, you realize something.

"Wait, what did you say?"

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moonfox281 · 4 years

Note

Ok but when Dick found out that Jeff and Trevor are alone and have no one je basically adopted them, made them dinner, told them to go to sleep, listened to their problems, comforted them (with a slight cuddles shhh) when needed and most importantly - there was someone that truly cared about them

Writer note: Moonie got very sick and wrote this in a hospital, so when I was typing out with only one eye open, I missread the prompt and it turned quite different. Sorrrryyy....

Dick grimaced when watching Jefferson munch on his half-eaten sandwich. They were on watch duty, Dick’s night ended early so he decided to come over and help the boys an eye. Half the night through and Jeff pulled out a thin foil package under his kevlar and started chunking on that saucy thing.

“Is that your dinner?”

Jeff turned to look at him, nodded, squinted his eyes and went back to his sandwich.

“If you know him like I do, that’s not even worth an entree.” Commented Hank as he poured out hot coffee from a thermal bottle and handed it to Dick. “But we’re on duty, what can we do, right?”

“You boys all eat like this?”

“Pretty much.”

“What about off duty days?”

“I don’t know, I can cook. Heck Blue, I work at your favorite coffee spot. But this guy though, I guess he just sleeps. God knows he can burn the house down if you give him a frying pan.” He pointed at Jeff and laughed out loud. Joke aside, Dick really believed him. He had seen it with his own eyes how Jeff held a kitchen knife like he was about to stab someone when Dick asked him to help with the onions.

“But how does keep his 6 packs with eating like that?”

“Ooh, you’ve seen his packs? Nice huh!”

And that was how the very next day, right before Jeff was about to take John to school, Dick ran to the doorway thrusting a cotton wrapped box to him.

“What…”

“It’s your lunch.”

“My what?”

“Your lunch. Here.” Considering the dumbfounded look Jeff was wearing, Dick found no delicate way to explain it but opening up the box out to show him. “It’s a lunch box. You seem like a strong eater, so I put quite a lot in.”

“There’re fried chickens in there.”

“Oh, that’s right. It’s sweet garlic sauce, John really likes it. There're also green beans and carrots.”

“What are these yellowy things?”

“Egg rolls.”

“Egg what?”

“Egg rolls. They have corn and cheese inside.”

And then there was silence. Just silence, for roughly 5 or 6 minutes, probably longer because they only snapped out of it by the sound of John jamming Jeff’s Jeep down the street for the wait.

“Blue… I don’t know...” Jeff, the 6 feet something brick of scars and muscles, was shuttering through words and words holding out the little lunch box in his hands like carrying an egg carton.

“It’s okay, just take it.” Dick smiled, ruffled his head (oops, bad habit). “Just don’t eat junks down the streets, I’ll cook for you. I need my soldiers to be topnotch, do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.” He looked like he was about to cry.

So, that was how things started. From that day went on, there was a story about the head of Red Hood gang’s task forces going to work every day with a little lunch container wrapped in wrap cloth. The menu was extravagantly diverse, from sea food like lemon baked codfish, tempura squish, and teriyaki salmon, to little treats like fried cutlets, homemade chicken nuggets, spicy dumplings and Vietnamese spring rolls. There seemed to even be an aesthetic balance in nutrient settlement, carbs, protein, and greens all in one box, not to mention the delicate arrangement. In short, it was Chrismast every lunchtime, watching Jefferson opening his lunchbox.

Of course, the secrets lasted for a week, top, and soon everybody found out it was the gang’s dearest Blue that had been playing Jefferson’s fairy godmother this whole time.

Shocker, everybody seemed to have lost their ability to crack an egg since then.

“I got shot last night, oh...it’s my dominant arm too, now I can’t even turn my stove on.”

“My power was cut at midnight, now all my food is ruined. I don’t know what to eat in a week!”

“I don’t know about you guys but I’ve been living on canned foods and frozen meals for months, if only someone would cook a proper meal for me one day...”

Did Dick figure it out right away? Heck, he didn’t even need a detective license to see right through them, but he tolerated it anyway.

The thing was, the task force consisted around 12 members, and Trevor too (this man didn’t even have to word it, he just stared at Jefferson’s lunch box with those dreamy looking eyes) and Dick, unfortunately, only had two arms. He couldn’t feet 13 chunkers at a time. So he made a schedule and cooked for two persons at a time, and moved on to the new ones the next day. It kept everyone happy, and kept Dick busy. Since marrying Jason, he had lots of time, lots of it.

Of course, words came around, and one day when Dick was doing meal prep, Jason came from behind hugging, slugging down his shoulder, half mumbling down his hair, half sniffing his nape like a dog.

“Why is it that everybody seems to have your lunchbox and I don’t?”

“Is that so?” Dick half-ass asked back. He was busy writing things down and Jason’s clinging arms around his waist, plus the dead weight on his back were all in the way. “Don’t you regularly eat out with clients and business partners? Like today, what did you have?”

“Teppanyaki.”

“Hmm, how lavish.”

“But I want your lunch box!”

“You’re saying you want brown rice and chicken lollipops over wagyu beef and scallops?”

“If we’re talking about your homemade chicken lollipops and brown rice, yes sir.”

“Don’t you have an image to keep? What would they say if you went to work in suit and kevlar and a bow tie wrapped lunchbox?”

“And what would they say if everyone else is getting a dip in your cooking while the husband himself doesn’t get a taste?”

Okay, point taken. Sensing a loss in this conversation, Dick pecked Jason’s forehead to win back the playing field.

“You know what Tobu said? You remember Tobu right?”

“Yes, I remember him.” It was harder to forget that man, to be honest. “Don’t tell me you talked to him about this.” Dick was an idiot, when Jason said he had teppanyaki for lunch, he should have realized it was with Tobu.

“We talk occasionally. He said a homemade bento box tells more about affection than any given word. So pleeease...” followed up with some questionable muffled sounds.

Needless to say, Dick was very much annoyed.

So, short story, that was how Dick found himself standing in front of hundreds of wooden lunch box designs the next day, trying to figure out which type suited his protein chunker the most.

“Are you getting one as a gift?” The shop helper asked.

“I’m getting one for my husband.”

And she made a series of questionable high pitch squeals.

Needless to say, Dick was very much tired.

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mumblelard · 6 months

Text

the trick is just not being caught or gimme more gimme more

i can't wait to see what's next

#grabbing onto the weeds to keep from falling off the edge of the world #grabbing onto the sky to keep from drowning in this world #and what a sky it is #underpass #boba #waking dreams #rivers #sleeping titans #mumblelard #only two short months since my time in rice street #north fulton county #georgia #second blue moon epoch #first autumn #end of messages

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vampiresuns · 3 years

Photo

picrew credit

It’s Nana’s parents!!! [Insert Screaming Cat meme] Louisa is on the right, and Vlad on the left. Here’s a short bio and some fun facts under the cut:

🫀 Louisa De Silva 🫀

Name: Louisa Aureliana De Silva Lascal.

Meaning of the name: ‘Louisa’ means famous battle, ‘Aureliana’ means golden, gilded. She is named after her paternal grandmother (Louisa) and her mother (Aureliana).

Nicknames: Lulu, Lu, Lucha, Luchita (Lucha is the spanish diminutive for ‘Luisa’, it is, also a pun on ‘fight’, which in spanish is also “lucha”).

Family: Joaquín De Silva (father), Aureliana Lascal (Mother), Paris De Silva (younger sister, owns the Moonstone and Jasmine, the magic shop), Alma De Silva (younger sister), Aelius Anatole (son).

Place of birth: City of Altazor, Altazor, Antiqulla region (the westernmost end of the Bulan range)

Favourite Food: Pollo arvejado, with a side of rice and fries.

Favourite Drink: Chicha, with a lot of ice.

Favourite Flower: Dandelions

Birthday: Feb 22nd

Age: Mid to late fifties

Height: 5′7

Zodiac: Aquarius sun, Sagittarius moon, Pisces rising.

Patron Arcana: The Lovers, and Knight of Wands

Upright: partnerships, duality, union, Reversed: loss of balance, one-sidedness, disharmony

Upright: action, adventure, fearlessness, Reversed: anger, impulsiveness, recklessness

Gender & Orientation: Cis woman, bisexual.

Languages spoken: Alzor, Venterrean, Vesuvian Common Tongue, Balkovian, some Zadithi.

Magic: N/A, though Vlad has taught her a significant amount of alchemy, she is no magician.

Familiar: N/A

Occupation: Doctor

🥀 Vlad Radošević 🥀

Name: Vladislav Elyseo Radošević-Cassano

Meaning of the name: ‘Vlad’ means rule, and ‘slav’ means glory. ‘Elyseo’ comes from Elysium and means blissful. His middle name is after Elysian Juriša-Radošević, his grandmother.

Nicknames: Vlad, Eli (used exclusively by Valerian), Moj Mali (used exclusively by Mircea, means ‘my little one’)

Family: Matilda Cassano (biological mother, deceased), Krešmir Radošević (biological father, deceased), Mircea Radoševic (uncle and adoptive father), Florentino Cassano (uncle and adoptive father), Valeriy ‘Valerius’ Radoševic-Cassano (younger brother), Aelius Anatole (son).

Place of birth: Vesuvia — he considers himself Balkovian, however.

Favourite Food: Seafood peka.

Favourite Drink: The Blood Of His Enemies Coffee and Grapefruit soda, not together.

Favourite Flower: Heather, Tansy.

Birthday: October 25th

Age: Late fifties to 60.

Height: 6′5

Zodiac: Scorpio sun, Aries moon, Virgo rising.

Patron Arcana: The Lovers and King of Cups

Upright: partnerships, duality, union, Reversed: loss of balance, one-sidedness, disharmony

Upright: compassion, control, balance, Reversed: coldness, moodiness, bad advice

Gender & Orientation: Cis man, bisexual.

Languages spoken: Balkovian, Vesuvian Common Tongue, Venterrean, Zadithi, Alzor, Nevivic, Hesperian. His Prakran is abysmal, but he can read it.

Magic: Alchemy.

Familiar: Cyrila ‘Kiki’ and Cecilia ‘Keke’, two Somali cats. You tell them apart because Kiki looks like she’s never produced a single thought in her life, and Keke because she looks like she thinks you’re a humongous idiot.

Occupation: Alchemist, researcher.

Fun facts 🫀🥀

Vlad’s rapier (all the R-C have one) is called ‘Beheaded Voivode’. He can set the blade aflame through Alchemy.

Louisa was exiled from Altazor at the age of 20, then lived in Venterre and Zadith, were she finished her medical studies. She moved to Balkovia for what was supposed to be a 6 months programme and scientific coven, but then she met Vlad and she ended up staying. She was exiled for opposing the dictatorial regime existing in the country.

While Louisa knows alchemy —which she learnt to become a better doctor— she doesn’t consider herself a magic user. She, however, can lend her life force to Vlad if the need arises. This creates a unity of energy between them which Vlad can channel into more powerful alchemy. This is because they’re beneficiaries of The Lovers.

Thematically both of them are about breaking bad parenting cycles. Vlad’s parents were notoriously irresponsible, neglectful and despondent parents, with Matilda being even cruel and purposefully hurtful. Louisa’s were extremely unaccommodating, strict to the point of traumatising and extremely hypocritical. Neither of them wished to have children until they realised they could do it together.

Vlad and Louisa did not marry until the war in Balkovia ended. It began months before Anatole was born, and it ended when he was around the ages of three/four.

Vlad calls Anatole ‘Lilu’ and ‘Lily’, it comes from little.

Vlad’s monocle is functional. It’s made of alchemy altered glass and it’s the design of a group of fellow alchemists and Vlad himself. He has very little vision on his left eye due to almost blowing up a room trying to stabilise fireroot. He was successful, making him the first person to ever stabilise the compound through a stable, long-lasting method. In the future, Anatole uses his father’s alchemic breakthrough to provide public lighting to the streets of Vesuvia. This method is currently used in Balkovia for public buildings, since it requires very little money to run.

Both of them are quick tempered, but understanding with people they love. It’s if they don’t like you the problem.

Originally, Vlad thought Louisa was an alchemist because she was describing the process of lightening up a Molotov.

Louisa knows how to use firearms. She learnt in Altazor, when she began getting involved in the fight and protest against the dictatorship in it. She still has good aim, but is out of practice and prefers it that way. She prefers to focus in ways to help those affected.

Her best medicine is ER medicine and field medicine. She is trained to be a war doctor and was a volunteer when time permitted in the Balkovian war.

While Louisa’s relationship with her parents eased with time, it is not good. She prefers to keep them at a distance.

Originally, Aureliana and Joaquín opposed Louisa marrying Vlad. They even tried to make her go back to Altazor or at least Venterre when the war began, but Louisa told them she would rather take out her own femur and eat it. She, clearly, harboured a lot of resentment for them, as they were key to her exile.

Louisa’s favourite Radošević outside of her husband was Elysian. It was the first time she had a positive role model whose politics were the same as hers, and didn’t punish her for it.

Vlad’s biggest personality trait is ‘I Love My Wife, I Love My Son’.

Louisa was one of the few doctors to treat poor people in Vesuvia who caught the Plague.

Vlad can only draw objects (for invention designs) and buildings.

Both of them read a lot. It’s not weird to find them having reading dates.

Vlad has a series of Alchemic symbols tattooed around his wrist. He uses them as magic on-the-go.

When raising Anatole, they privileged communication, autonomy, self-expression and support more than anything else. Even through his argumentative teenager phase.

Speaking of their son, Anatole takes after Louisa in terms of politics, moral compass, and determination to see things done and to do what is right.

Vlad’s politics can be summarised in “If you’re told not to tamper with the shelf, and you do, and it falls on your head, then that was your own damn fault”.

Whenever Vlad began brooding because he was “sure” Louisa didn’t like him, his cats bit him.

Louisa housed and protected her sister Paris when she ran away from Altazor looking for her, upon discovering the real reason why her sister was sent away. Paris showed up out of the blue at her doorstep. Their other sister, Alma, helped her orchestrate the escape.

Louisa gets ready in 30 minutes, tops. Vlad in 2 hours.

While Valerius acts like he can’t stand her, he actually loves and respects Louisa a ridiculous amount.

Vlad is more emotional than Louisa but has more trouble showing it. He’s gotten better with time.

Vlad sails. Louisa always makes fun of him for being insanely competitive, but joke’s on her because she’s just as bad. As a true Aquarius sun and a Sag moon, she hates being told what to do. Whenever she gets like that, Vlad just looks at her with heart eyes.

Vlad is closest to Violeta Radošević, Milenko’s mother, out of his generation of cousins.

Except for formal occasions, Louisa doesn’t wear shirts or dresses that go past her ankles. Prefers them to the calf, as she needs to be able to move freely (she moves a lot).

It’s very likely Louisa is the one with undiagnosed ADHD out of the two of them, hence where Nana gets it from. She’s never checked.

Louisa loves dancing (so does Vlad but he hates admitting it), and she taught Anatole most of what she knew. As she grew up, she was constantly in dancing lessons, inspired by her own mother’s love of ballroom dancing. It’s one of the few things she’s fully grateful about.

This is more of a language fun fact than anything else, but Alzor and Nopali are extremely similar languages, and are almost virtually interchangeable.

They both stand by ‘one child is enough’ but end up adopting all of Anatole’s friends on accident, sometimes, even his partners a little, depending on the verse we are in.

Finally, out of the Arcana canon characters, Vlad would get along the best with Nadia, Salim and Aisha. Louisa would get along the best with Nadia, Julian and Portia.

#the radosevic-cassano #vlad radosevic #louisa de silva #vlad and louisa #the arcana #the arcana oc

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slapshot-to-the-heart · 4 years

Text

Breakable Heaven (pt. I) - p.l. dubois

As promised, here’s the first part of Breakable Heaven! I’m really excited for this one, there’s so many things I can’t wait for you all to read. This chapter is more setup and background, but I promise it’s all worth it! I’d love it if you reblogged (helps me know people like my work!) or pop into my inbox and let me know what you think! I read all the tags :)

part I part ii part iii part iv

June 4 (thurs)

Laurel clipped her pager back onto her scrubs, leaning over the counter of the nurses’ station. “You ready to go grab lunch?” She had just finished changing the bandages and administering pain medication for a little boy who was recovering from a heart surgery, and was looking forward to getting off her feet for a few minutes. The PICU floor was quiet, only about half of the rooms being filled, and there were no pressing matters that required her attention. If something drastic changed in the next half an hour, she always had her pager.

Madeline looked up from her chair, where she was finishing up filling in a patient’s chart. “Sounds good,” she said, letting their charge nurse know that they were headed down. Madeline Peltier had been one of the first people to introduce themselves to Laurel when she started; having only been on the unit for two weeks herself, she was still getting a handle on the reins and was more than willing to show Laurel around.

Madeline was also one of the few on the floor who was just as comfortable in English as she was in French. French had been Laurel’s foreign language through college, but she was made rudely aware upon her move to Montréal that the pronunciation and slang of Canadian French was very different from the Standard French of Madame Anderson’s rural Minnesota classroom. Her grasp of the language was good enough to take the Québec nursing licensure exam — which wasn’t even offered in English — but the spoken dialect was proving much more difficult to pick up. They walked down to the cafeteria, on the second floor, grabbing some sandwiches before swiping their ID badges for the employee discount.

“I still think they should give us free food,” Madeline said moodily, unscrewing her water bottle and taking a sip.

Laurel laughed. “When hell freezes over, maybe. Doctor’s lounge usually has some pretty nice stuff set out, or at least that’s what they say. Pity our cards don’t let us in, I’m not above identity theft.” Madeline snorted into her sandwich.

“What are you doing this weekend?” Madeline asked a few minutes later, starting to peel an orange.

“Uh, not much?” Laurel said. “Getting my papers together to resign my lease in a few weeks, grocery shopping, but nothing big. It’s been a long few shifts this week and I’m mostly just looking forward to taking it easy. Why?”

“If you’re up to it,” Madeline shrugged, “Patrice and I are going out for dinner Saturday night and we’d love for you to join us.” Patrice was Madeline’s long-time boyfriend, they started dating in university and had been together ever since.

Laurel rolled her eyes. “Madeline, thank you for the offer, but I don’t want to keep being your third wheel.”

Madeline let out a conspiratorial grin. Oh no, Laurel thought. This can’t be good. “As it would so happen,” she said, “you wouldn’t be third wheeling. One of Patrice’s friends is back in the city for a few months, and I think you two might hit it off,” she sing-songed. Madeline had been trying to set her up from practically the moment they met; whether it was someone from her gym, one of the critical care fellows, or apparently, her boyfriend’s childhood friend. They were always nice guys, but nothing had ever stuck for more than a date or two.

---

Twelve hour shifts meant that, at least on work days, there was no way Laurel was going to have the emotional or physical capacity to make herself a real dinner. She’d order in occasionally, but it more common to just pull together something quick like a frozen pizza or grab whatever leftovers she could find in the fridge. Yesterday’s chicken and rice it was, then. Sticking it in the microwave, Laurel opened the door to her balcony, letting Piper out to use the bathroom. Piper was an eight-month-old chocolate lab, the love of her life who she had adopted just after the new year. Laurel had always grown up with dogs; back in Minnesota she had Jackson and Lucy, and she had been missing them more than a little bit since moving to Canada. Piper was incredible. Intelligent, loyal, and so friendly that even her neighbor’s notoriously picky five-year-old son had taken a shine to her. She wolfed down her food, grabbed Piper’s leash and her water bottle, and headed out the door.

June 5 (fri)

The intricacies of language were hard. And, somehow, learning the intricacies of a language you already knew was even harder. Laurel was trying her damndest to pick up Québecois French as fast as humanly possible, but while she could conjugate l’imparfait in her sleep, the accent and vocabulary were what was really throwing her off. But she intended on making a life in Montréal, and staying as long as she could, so there really wasn’t any option but to hit the books. Immersion worked for some people, and thank God she knew the medical terminology to communicate with her patients and their families, but it wasn’t quite the same when she was struggling through telling the mechanic her car needed an oil change. In a perfect world she’d have someone to help her one-on-one, but she didn’t want to ask Madeline for that big of a favor. And while she made decent money at the hospital — she could afford her own apartment and had a little left over every month to put into savings — it was nowhere near enough to pay for a tutor. So Duolingo, and podcasts, and Youtube lessons it was.

Letting out a groan, Laurel leaned her head into her hands, shutting her laptop. She wasn’t going to make any progress being this frustrated. She bent down to scratch Piper, whose favorite spot for naps was a blanket right beside Laurel’s desk, between the ears, pulling her leash and collar off of their book by her bedroom door. Piper’s ears perked up, and soon enough she was running around the apartment wagging her tail as fast as it could go, a slightly exasperated but nevertheless laughing Laurel following. She finally managed to clip on her leash; at fifty pounds, Piper still had a little bit of growing left to do, but she had already proven she was more than capable of bending the will of a full-grown and otherwise capable 23-year-old woman.

She had discovered Parc Saint-François-d’Assise a few weeks after adopting Piper, and had thanked her lucky stars for finding a dog park so close to her apartment. Having a schedule like hers meant that she couldn’t always get her to a weekly training or obedience class — plus, the French that she did know certainly didn’t include ‘heel’ — so the time spent socializing was well-appreciated. It was only a fifteen minute walk, and Piper was good enough on a leash that she only stopped once to bark at a squirrel in one of the many birch trees that lined the street. The park was an acre or two, small enough that she could see all the way across and keep an eye on Piper as she let her off-leash, but big enough that there was more than enough room for all the animals. It wasn’t particularly crowded that Friday; Laurel was confused for a moment before she remembered that most people were busy at 11 AM on a weekday. There were a few families, with kids out for the summer from school, and a man playing in the far corner with his two small dogs, but not much else.

Laurel leaned down, unclipping the leash from Piper’s collar, and gave the chocolate lab a scratch on the head. “Have fun, girl!” Piper never needed much encouragement, and took off running almost before Laurel had even wrapped up her leash. Rolling her eyes and laughing, she picked up her phone. A text from Allison, one of her only friends in the city aside from Madeline, inviting her out for her birthday next week. Madeline, giving her the address for the restaurant the next night. The Duolingo owl, threatening her with bodily harm if she didn’t log her language progress for the day. She was so engrossed in checking her email that she didn’t hear the shout for her to look out, or the two bulldogs barreling towards her at full speed, until they had knocked her off her feet and she landed straight on her ass.

“Desolé. Vas-tu bien?” The man asked, holding out a hand and helping her up. Laurel nodded, brushing the dirt off her jeans.

“Ouais, ouais. Pas de problème, pas de mal. Ils sont chiens, non?”

He chuckled, patting the smaller of the two bulldogs, which had decided to take a break from accosting passers-by to get petted. “C’est vrai.” They talked for another minute or two before saying goodbye, but she could have sworn it was an hour.

Walking Piper home half an hour later, Laurel was struck with two realizations. The mystery man — bulldog dad, as she had started calling him in her internal monologue — had very possibly the prettiest eyes she’d ever seen in her life, and she’d be cursing herself for the next week for not getting his number.

June 6 (sat)

Saturday meant Laurel had a day off, but more importantly, Saturday meant she didn’t have to set her alarm for 5:30 and could actually wake up at a semi-normal hour. Her internal clock didn’t wake her up until half past seven; even then, it was Piper’s soft barks that finally got her up, throwing on a pait of shorts, and leading her out to the courtyard down the hallway to use the bathroom before coming back to her apartment and throwing open the fridge doors. No 7 AM shift meant that she mercifully had enough time to make a proper breakfast. On shift days, there never seemed to be enough time to actually sit down and eat, and Laurel usually ended up just having a quick bowl of cereal or some overnight oats and making a protein shake to drink on the drive over. Eggs, bread, yogurt, a peach she had picked up from the farmer’s market.

After the bread was done toasting and her tea was finished steeping, she gingerly carried the food out to the balcony, placing it on the table as Piper trotted out behind her. Laurel crunched her toast with one hand as she flipped the pages of a book with the other, a Shirley Chisholm biography that Victoria, her best friend from high school, had recommended her. It was almost an hour later when she finally found a good place to stop. As much as she may have liked to just camp out on her balcony all day and blow through the rest of the book, her pantry was crying out for a grocery run and she was running desperately low on ice cream.

---

The dinner reservation was at 7, and by 6:30 Laurel was almost ready to leave. Her blue skirt fanned out on the couch as she sat killing time on her phone, tapping the floor nervously with the same pair of block heels that she’d worn to her university graduation. The restaurant wasn’t far from her apartment building, so a few minutes later, she decided to go, leaving Piper with a pat on the head and plenty of food in her bowl. Laurel laughed to herself on the way over, her eyes flickering over the skyline as she walked alongside the St. Lawrence River.

It’s like what she had told Madeline over and over again, every time she tried to set her up on a blind date with a friend of a friend. She wasn’t actively looking for a relationship but wouldn’t be opposed to it. Whatever happens, happens. Biting her lip, Laurel decided that even if she didn’t hit it off with whatever guy Madeline was trying to set her up, even if things go horribly wrong and he’s the exact opposite of what she’s looking for in a partner, she’ll get a free meal and, hopefully, a new friend.

Laurel hadn’t been told much about her blind date, or anything, really. She didn’t even know his name. From what she had been able to figure out, he was from the area but didn’t work in Canada most of the year — so maybe he was in business? All Madeline told her was that he was tall, attractive, and had a dog. Or was it two? She honestly couldn’t remember. She trusted her and Patrice’s judgement, so if he had gotten their stamp of approval, it was good enough for her. She grabbed her phone out of her bag as she neared the restaurant, letting Madeline know she was almost there and asking where to meet her. She told the hostess she was meeting some friends, and Madeline walked around the corner less than a minute later. “Hi, love!” she said, reaching out and wrapping Laurel in a warm hug. “We’re over this way.” Laurel followed her around the corner and past the bar to a four-seater against the wall. She slid into the seat closest to the wall, leaving a space empty.

“He should be back in a minute, just ran to the bathroom,” Patrice said, nodding towards the vacant seat and referring to her mystery man. A minute passed, Laurel scanning the wine list, before Madeline threw her hand up in greeting.

“Salut, PL!” When Laurel looked up, she almost dropped her menu.

“Oh my God!” The stranger — PL’s — eyes widened in recognition. “You’re the bulldog dad!”

He chuckled, rounding the table to greet her with a kiss on the cheek. Left, then right. It had taken Laurel a while to get used to; even going to university in Toronto, cheek kissing was practically obsolete, but that changed very quickly upon her move to Montréal. “I am. Pierre-Luc Dubois, good to meet you properly this time.”

Madeline looked between the two, clearly confused. “You know each other?”

Laurel shook her head. “Not really, no. His dogs ran into me at the park yesterday when I was there with Piper, we talked for a minute or two.”

Pierre nodded in affirmation. “So, Piper. The chocolate lab’s yours then?”

“My pride and joy.”

June 13 (sun)

Over the next week and a half, it became more and more common for Laurel to meet up with the group on the weekend, or one of her off days, or really whenever she had spare time. She had learned that Pierre-Luc was a hockey player, Patrice explaining that they had played atom league together growing up and the friendship had somehow stuck. Come to think of it, he had looked a little familiar. The University of Minnesota Duluth was less than an hour drive from her hometown, and besides being the college that the majority of the 50% of college-bound graduates of her high school went to, it also had one of the best hockey programs in the country. So she knew the sport, followed enough to be informed, and had even become a de facto Maple Leafs fan from her time in Toronto.

Sometimes Madeline and Laurel would bring another friend from the hospital along, sometimes it was just the four of them. Once, a Sunday afternoon coffee meetup turned into just Laurel and Pierre-Luc; Patrice had come down with a bad cold and Madeline was staying behind to look after him. If she was being honest, it was far less awkward than she had anticipated. Pierre had insisted on buying her iced capp, and they had settled in a corner booth, sharing a box of Timbits.

“Patrice mentioned you’re from the U.S., somewhere in the Midwest?” Pierre asked, sipping his coffee.

She nodded. “Cloquet, Minnesota,” Laurel sighed, “where there is exactly one hotel, one high school, and life revolves around the mines.”

Pierre sucked in. “That sounds...interesting,” he said diplomatically.

Laurel laughed. “It’s okay, you don’t have to mince words. The people are nice, if you think like they do, and the scenery is gorgeous, but…” She gathered her thoughts. “It’s not the place you can really dream big, you know?” He nodded. “Neither of my parents went to college, my mom’s a receptionist at the elementary school and my dad works in the mines. I knew by the time I was in high school that I wanted something more. There was just nothing for me there, and I didn’t ever want to feel as trapped and beaten down as some people I know.”

Pierre leaned back in his chair. “Do you go back often?”

“Once a year, maybe twice?” Laurel said, shaking her head. “I’ve only got a few good friends back there, and trust me, they’re much more excited to come to big-city Canada than I would be to go back to a town of 12,000 people.”

“Fair enough.”

Conversation between them flowed easily, so easily that before she knew it, two hours had gone by and he had to leave for a skate. As she walked back to the metro, Laurel couldn’t help but shake the feeling that the two hours she had spent with Pierre had felt more like a date than any she’d been on since moving to Montréal a year ago. But it couldn’t have been a date, because it wasn’t supposed to be. Right?

June 15 (tues)

It was half past seven on Tuesday, and Laurel was just getting home from work. She loved her job, genuinely, but twelve hour shifts were no joke. Spinning her key ring around her finger, she stopped in the mailroom, unlocking her box and fishing out the stack of envelopes that had accumulated in the two days since she’d last checked. Walking over to the elevators, she held the bundle in one hand as the other punched in her button to the third floor. Laurel flipped through the envelopes as the doors opened. Water bill, bank statement, letter from Immigration, Refugees, and Citizenship Canada. Hang on. Laurel stopped at the last envelope, running her finger under the flap as she turned her key in the lock, opening the door with her hip and letting it slam shut behind her.

She had applied a little over a month ago for her permanent residency card, which she had been assured by everyone she asked would be a relatively easy and painless process. “You’re a nurse, and a good one. I could use ten of you,” her charge nurse had stated. “You went to school here, you have a Canadian degree and a Canadian license. There’s no reason they would cause you any trouble,” Madeline had said. And she had done her due diligence, double-checked every piece of information, checked off every document on the list. Done everything she was supposed to do. So when she unfolded the paper, the words shocked her.

Denied. Laurel brought her hand shakily up to her mouth as her eyes raced down the letter. No explanation was given, all she was told was that her application had been rejected and she had until September 17, when her work visa expired, to leave the country. The first thing Laurel did was frantically grab her laptop, seeing if there was some way she could apply for a visa extension, but the deadline had passed; she’d have to go back to the consulate in Minneapolis and try to re-apply from there, but her chances weren’t good if she’d already been rejected. The second thing she did was collapse on the floor, Piper nosing herself under her arm, and cry.

June 16 (wed)

When the group met up for lunch the next day, Madeline noticed something was off about Laurel almost immediately. Normally someone who was hyper-focused on the task at hand, she was stirring her straw around in her glass, nibbling at a piece of bread and answering questions shortly if at all. “What’s up?” she asked carefully, catching Laurel’s eye as she tried to busy herself with straightening her napkin. There wasn’t really a way she could get out of answering that one.

“I, uh, I got a letter yesterday,” she said. Pierre and Patrice stopped their conversation. All eyes were on her. “From immigration services. They told me,” her eyes pricked with tears, “they told me my PR application was denied, and I only have until the middle of September before I have to leave.”

“Like, leave the country?” Pierre asked. She nodded. “But can’t you renew your visa or something?”

“No, I looked into everything.” Laurel said in frustration, shaking her head. “There’s not enough time for it to be processed, I’d have to go back and reapply in the States, and even then the chances aren’t great.”

Madeline leaned over, wrapping Laurel up in a hug. “Oh, Laur. I’m so sorry,” she said. “You don’t deserve this.”

“It’s just hard,” Laurel started, “knowing that there’s nothing there for me back home. That’s the whole reason why I came to Canada in the first place, to get away. To get out. I’d have to retake all my licensure exams and find a new job and I don’t want to have to start all over when that’s not at all what I planned for. I thought I’d stay. I thought this was going to be my home”

“I can call my friend who’s a lawyer, see if he’s got any ideas?” Patrice offered.

Laurel smiled weakly “Thanks, Patrice, but I really don’t think they’d be able to do much. I was on the website for hours, and there’s like two ways I wouldn’t be kicked out of the country. And I don’t think I’m going to be able to give birth by September 17,” she said, letting out a watery laugh.

“You’d have to marry someone or something to stay,” Madeline said.

“Yeah, that’s the only other way it was going to happen,” Laurel agreed. “But seeing as how I’m obscenely single, I don’t see that happening…” She trailed off.

“I’d marry you,” Pierre said suddenly, shrugging.

Laurel’s head whipped to her side. “You’d what?”

“I’d marry you. We’re both single, by all accounts you’re an amazing nurse and deserve to stay. We get married, stay ‘together’ for a few years until you get your citizenship, and then tragically inform the citizenship and immigration people that while we tried, it just didn’t work out, and get a divorce. Easy peasy.”

Laurel almost burst out laughing, the idea was so ridiculous. She almost couldn’t wrap her head around what he was offering to do. He couldn’t be serious. Right?

---

Laurel slung her arm over her head, body tangled up in bedsheets. According to her phone, it was well past one. She couldn’t sleep. She had tried rain sounds, counting sheep, drinking a cup of chamomile tea, but nothing was working; she just wasn’t able to still her mind. Honestly, she couldn’t stop thinking about lunch earlier. More specifically, what Pierre had said.

As much of a bad person as it may have made her sound, the more she thought about Pierre’s offer, the more it made sense. He was incredibly attractive, so it wouldn’t be hard to fake a marriage to him for a few years. She really didn’t keep in contact with anyone from back home in Cloquet aside from her family and a few friends from high school, so it’s not like there would really be anyone to blow her cover. And she really, really wanted to stay in Canada. It wasn’t just the scenery, or the general human decency of everyone, or even the universal healthcare that pushed her to stay. She had fallen in love with the people, the city, and didn’t want to go down without a fight.

Rolling over, she grabbed her phone from her nightstand, pulling up Pierre’s contact. Hey, she texted. Laurel immediately cursed herself as the three dots popped up on his side. Hey? She was going to ask this man to marry her and the best she could come up with was hey? He wrote back immediately. Hey. You’re up late, what’s up? Laurel took a deep breath. How serious were you about offering to marry me? His second response was even faster than the first. As a heart attack.

#hockey imagine #hockey writing #pierre luc dubois #hockey smut #nhl imagine #hockey #nhl imagines #nhl smut #hockey imagines #nhl writing #nhl

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mediocre-writerr · 3 years

Text

we’re going down [leah rilke]

bring us through: leah rilke book

chapter 2: we’re going down

*not my gif*

The private jet was fancier than any plane I’ve ever been on. Seats where your feet weren’t cramped like a bunch of sardines in a sardine can. A smell that doesn’t smell like someone just ate the whole Taco Bell menu before they came on.

It was clean and polished. No spot had a stain, like it was brand new. Perfect as one would say.

Here’s the thing about perfection though: everyone has their own version of perfect.

Here’s the thing about me: I didn’t know that until much more recently.

There were many trials and tribulations with my family, especially when it came to perfection...or well perfection in my dad’s eyes. But somehow, some way, we always came out stronger. There was one time where my mom didn’t get the job we needed to really help our financial situation, and my dad got so angry that she wasn’t perfect that she had to go live with my aunt for a couple months. But when she came back with a new better job, my dad celebrated her. We went to a fancy restaurant in the city and ate the most expensive food on the menu. Then my older sister didn’t marry the guy my dad wanted her to and he disowned her for a few months. Until she came back with more money and a grandkid for our parents. He threw the baby a huge baptism party, spending loads of money buying them a house and the necessities for a baby.

My mom not getting a job? Fixed with a big celebration dinner. My sister not marrying the man my dad wants? Fixed with a huge baptism party and buying them a house.

I’m valedictorian, on the verge of going to the most prestigious school in Texas on a full ride: Rice University. And then right when everything in life seemed to be perfect, I messed everything up. There was no way coming back up from this one.

I was just sitting at the kitchen table during dinner. Eating mom’s classic country fried steak and mashed potatoes with gravy. Occasionally, participating in awkward conversation about how good the food is. I felt like I slept-walked there, barely able to recall the argument before dinner, the yelling, the screaming. Remembering for the thousandth time in the past week, that she was gone.

I sat there awkwardly, waiting for the other foot to drop. That I was just going to get kicked to the curb like everyone else who didn’t follow what my dad has planned for their life. But as my younger brothers went upstairs for bed I recognized something on my dad’s face that I had never seen since they found out. His face dressed in a big smile, like he was just told he’s going to Disney World.

As if on beat, he leaned in closer to me from across the table. And I knew that things were about to go for a crash-landing. His unusual happiness at my disobedience was going to wreck havoc into my life.

He cleared his throat hesitantly as my mother joined us back on the table. His breath smelled like his usual bourbon, “So Raleigh,” he said, crossing his fingers together with my mom’s, “We have a fun surprise for you.”

As if on cue there was a knock on the door. My father gestured for me to go get the door. I opened it revealing Shelby and her parents. I stopped short in my place, both of us frozen with confusion written all over our faces. But her parents had an unfamiliar expression: genuine happiness?

I cleared my throat, trying to piece everything together, “Hi Mr and Mrs. Goodkind. It’s a pleasant surprise. My parents are at the kitchen table.”

I open the door wider for them as the two of them say their hello’s and walk inside, “What’s going on?” I ask Shelby and she shrugs.

“I have no idea,” she whispers back, “But it can’t be good.”

The two of us sat across from our parents, as they stared at us with grins on their faces. But it’s as if the grins had a double meaning to them, “We wanted to talk to the two of you about something. We know the two of you are as thick as thieves, I mean you never shut up about each other.” Mr. Goodkind laughs, trying to ease the awkward tension, but it misses by a longshot.

Me and Shelby laugh along awkwardly, as we look at each other with a side glance. They said fun surprise. Not we’re kicking you out onto the streets. But we knew, from the way that our mom’s wouldn’t look at us or from the way our father’s faces grew more and more stern by the second, that something was about to go down.

My dad fetched something from his office. Two envelopes with our name scrawled across it, with a pamphlet in his name. The pamphlet in big bold letters saying: Dawn of Eve.

“We want you to have this,” my dad says, “It’s a gift for the two of you.”

We slowly opened the envelopes revealing a plane ticket to Hawaii, along with an itinerary, “It’s a retreat,” my mom blurted, “A beautiful month trip to Hawaii with other girls around your age. You’ll love it. Find your true self. Growing.”

Mrs. Goodkind chimes in, “Aromatherapy messages, swimming with dolphins, workshops!”

“A chance for the two of you girls to discover who you’re really ought to be.” Mr. Goodkind says.

And at that point I knew. It wasn’t just any retreat, it was a retreat to get our shit together.

I closed the overhead container, like closing the container would shut out the memories too. Looking for a distraction, I opened up Instagram on my phone scrolling through various posts of people back home and celebrities flaunting off their life.

Everyone seemed to have taken their seats. The brunette with a book sat in the back away from everyone else, holding onto the book like her life depended on it. The ‘put on your seatbelt’ sign flashed above us, as a video began playing on the screen in front of us.

“Right now, hundreds of girls just like yourselves, board charters just like this one, are on route to our retreat in Kona, Hawaii.” the middle-aged lady said.

But I wasn’t quite focused on that, but rather the girl in the back all by herself. She was staring blankly at the seat in front of her, not paying attention to anyone in the plane or the video.

“The Dawn of Eve literally waits for no man.” the lady says, causing me to catch my attention.

I looked at my best friend who was captivated by the video. I give her a look and she just shrugs. The air on the plane was tense as we lifted off into the air. It seemed like nobody wanted to be here. So Shelby did what she did best.

“I’m gonna start an icebreaker to get to know everyone.” she states, starting to get up from out of her seat.

I pull her back down as fast as I could, “Shelb, really? We’re not on a mission.”

But she just pulled out of my grasp standing up. I let out a sigh, even though everyone would hate this idea, what kind of friend would I be if I didn’t support her? “So, in the interest of bringing us all together I would like to propose a little ice breaker.”

I could literally feel everyone’s eye roll in the room. An asian girl with bangs stood up suggesting ‘Never Have I Ever’. But of course peppy Shelby shot down her suggestion. She was never one for those types of games. Especially with all of the secrets she keeps hidden inside.

“Alright I’m gonna start with an introduction and play matchmaker,” she says walking up and down the aisle.

I was trying to pay attention to Shelby, but for some reason I kept looking back at that beautiful brunette. Who did not seem to be interested in anything Shelby was saying. Her nose still knee-deep in that book of hers, curled onto her side, reading like it was life or death.

“And this is my best friend Raleigh Fuller,” my best friend says, snapping out of my trance. She looks at you with the look as she follows your gaze to the girl in the back, “We’re from Dillon, Texas.”

She grabs my hand, dragging me all the way towards the back, sitting next to the girl, “You two will be paired up together. Have fun you two.” she says to me with a wink before walking back down the aisle.

The brunette didn’t acknowledge me though, but rather kept reading her book. I cleared my throat, awkwardly, trying to gain her attention.

“The Nature Of Her? By Jeffrey Galanis.” I said, squinting at the book cover across from me.

That seemed to have caught her attention, “You’ve read it?”

“No. I actually never heard of it, but it seems like it’s interesting. If you’ve been having your nose stuffed in since I accidentally ran into you.” I say jokingly with a small smile.

The flight attendant came by with a cart full of chocolate cake. We both thank him softly, before indulging in the richness of the cake.

She didn’t respond after that all she did was stick her nose in her book again. But it seemed like she wasn’t even reading the pages. After three seconds she’s already flipping onto another page.

I cleared my throat, scratching the back of my neck. I mean what am I supposed to say? The girl clearly didn’t want to be bothered. It’s like the writing in those pages were magical. The old me would just sit back in the leather private jet chair, feeling sorry for myself about her completely ignoring me. Probably thinking something like: wow, I guess I’m really not cool. Or spit out a random fact since that’s all I know like: competitive art used to be in the Olympics.

But that past me was probably dug next to the old Taylor Swift’s grave. The lyric that goes: “I’m sorry the old Taylor can’t come to the phone right now...why? Cause she’s dead.” Yeah that’s how I’m feeling on the inside, so instead I say, “You know it’s kinda rude that we’re supposed to be having a conversation, but you’re completely ignoring me.”

She let out a laugh and took one glance up from the book. Finally being met with her bright blue eyes, “Does it look like I want to be bothered right now?”

“No, but it looks like you’re reading the same page over and over again. Like it’s the only thing that can keep your heart beating,” I said, “What’s so interesting about that book anyway?”

She studied me for a brief moment. Her eyes leave the pages of that book for more than five seconds.

Finally, she said, “Look, it’s one of my favorite books. But I don’t think there’s a rule against rereading your favorite book over and over again. That’s like me telling you that you can’t read Wuthering Heights over and over again.”

Now it was my turn to stare at the girl.

She was right. She may have been a closed off book, but so was I. I used to be one of those people who would kill to ask thousands of questions about what that book was about. Or why she loved it so much. I would love to join in and lead on Shelby’s icebreakers. But now? Sometimes, I don’t even want to talk to Shelby.

I wanted to apologize for my comments. These days, I can’t control my own emotions or what I want to say anymore.

I’m sorry, I imagined myself saying, I’m sorry that I was a complete pain in the butt. I didn’t mean to judge you and how invested you are in that book. My parents found out my deepest darkest secret. And instead of accepting me with open loving arms they decided to send me to a retreat. A retreat in which I’m pretty sure is a conversion therapy camp, but they don’t want to say that out loud. So they call it a fun surprise for me and my best friend. While the girl I fell in love with is just gone. I used to be this bright bubbly girl, but now I’m not. So, please forgive me for my behavior since you probably don’t want to be here either.

That’s a little TMI, don’t you think?

I open my mouth and start to utter those meaningless two words when my best friend came rushing past.

“Shelby? Where are you going?” I ask, surprised at how fast she was moving.

“I got chocolate cake in my teeth.” she mumbles, covering her face in her hand and I immediately got the message.

“Ah got it.”

Shelby rushed back into the bathroom and I turned to the brunette in front of me again. The closed-book of a girl, opening my mouth once more ready to mumble the two most overused words. But the plane started shaking, jolting us back and forth. The two of us look at each other, tilting our heads to the side.

“Hello everyone. We’re experiencing a little turbulence.” The plane continued to jolt and it seemed like more than just a little turbulence, “Actually a lot of turbulence!” the pilot yells.

The lights flashing on and off. The brunette just shoved her face back in the book. This could be our last moments on Earth and she’s still reading that book! I get up from out of my seat, banging on the bathroom door.

“Shelby! Open the door!” I yell.

My blonde best friend came bursting out and she fell onto her knees on the floor. Praying to the God she still whole-heartedly believed in. I fell down on the ground next to her, holding her in my arms as she prayed. I didn’t pray, but rather sat there thinking that this was the end.

#leah rilke #leah rilke imagine #leah rilke x reader #leah rilke fanfiction #leah rilke book

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champhangman · 3 years

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Recipe for a Perfect Christmas - Part 8

Title: Recipe for a Perfect Christmas Part: 8/12 Theme: Day #8: Fireplace / Stockings Fandom / Character(s): AEW / Nick Jackson x OFC Warnings: Explicit unprotected sex (finally, some people probably say) Word Count: 5,681 Soundtrack: Spotify Previously: Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Summary: In the space of six months, Natalie Gibbs lost her fiancé, her job, her apartment, and what little bit of cheer she had. Moving back home after being on her own for years, she hopes to get back on her feet after the holidays. But a nosy best friend, a stubborn coot of a father, and a handsome new neighbor might change her plans, her holidays, and her life. Notes: My entry for day 8 of @12daysofchristmas

The Tag Crew: @adampage / @cowboyshit / @lilmisswhiskeygypsy / @bigpixiefoot / @mindofasagittaruis / @kalliravenne / @sadlittlecountess / @baronsbelleevangeline / @brie-mode-activated / @xbreezymeadowsx / @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch / @wardl0w / @hotyeehawman / @waywardwrestlewritingwaif / @drewshoneybadger / @mysteryoflovve / @knnyomega / @rampagewriting / @hurricanranabaybay / @linziland13 / @bastardkingbrutalizer / @snarkandsarcasmftw / @rubyred1980 / @champnick / @edgecution / @nething4perfection / (please drop me an ask/send me a message/reply to my post if you’d like to be tagged)

***

Part 8 – And Then I Fell

"The number you have called…"

Natalie groaned and ended the call, scowling as she leaned to plug it into the charger. "He still won't answer."

"I'm sure he's fine," her father said, not looking up from his book.

Turning to scowl at him, she softened when she saw Penny curled up next to him on the couch, her head resting on his lap. During the week she had forced him to stay home and rest, he had discovered he liked stretching out on the couch, especially when the dog came for a visit. He had said the uncomplicated company of the dog had helped him feel better. Natalie wasn't sure if it was Penny or the rest, but he had bounced back to almost normal, resuming his morning duties at the bakery and not being quite as grouchy in the evenings.

"He always answers, though," she pointed out. Feeling restless, she crossed to look out the front window. Though it was past sunset, she could see the trees swaying in the increasing winds and the steady fall of snow. The across-the-street neighbors had put their exterior lights up that day and she watched them bounce and sway as the cedar they were wrapped around bent with the wind. The storm was supposed to have only lasted the afternoon but it had stalled after passing Halifax. She could see the cars starting to turn white, as well as the driveway and walk. The sky lit above and she gasped as, seconds later she heard the faint rumble of thunder.

"Thundersnow?" Leonard asked, glancing up from his book.

"Yeah," she said, letting the curtain fall back. The wind seemed to pick up, straining against the windows, and she shivered despite the warmth of the living room. "I hope it ends soon."

"The thunder? Or the snow?"

"All of it." Natalie picked up his empty mug. "Do you want more coffee?"

"Make a pot of tea," he requested, slipping the postcard from Hawaii he'd gotten from his cousin between the pages of his book. He set it aside and reached to rub Penny when she squeezed closer to him. "And you should probably check the soup."

"Right." She should probably check other things, too. If the storm got bad, the power would go out. She wasn't worried about the cold. Years ago when her parents had upgraded their heating from the baseboard propane heaters to central heating, her father had kept the baseboard heat installed and had it regularly serviced to make sure it was in proper working order. They wouldn't freeze. But she had to go down to the basement and make sure the furnace was working, and she had to slip outside to get some firewood for the fireplace in the living room. And she had to get out the candles and kerosene lamps. And—

Her phone began to ring and she nearly threw the coffee mug aside. Grateful it was empty, she tightened her grip on it and rushed to get her phone from the end table. She hated that she sighed, disgruntled, upon seeing it was Ashley and not Nick. Unplugging the phone, she answered the call and headed into the kitchen. "Hey, Ash."

"Just checking in. You guys okay?"

"Yeah, we're fine. Things okay out there?" she asked, setting the mug in the sink and reaching for the kettle.

"The horses are all cozy in their stalls, the barn is battened down, and Adam's pacing like the nervous wreck he is." Ashley let out a soft laugh. "He's really not, he's outside triple-checking the generator."

"Does he think the power's gonna go out?" Natalie filled the kettle and carried it to the stove.

"It's blinked here a couple times, so it probably will. If this stupid storm would just go away…" Ashley groaned. "We'll be fine. Adam said he can come out there if you need help getting Lenny's furnace going."

Natalie opened her mouth to say she was sure it was already working, and sighed when her father called out from the living room.

"Tell Adam the furnace is already on, we won't freeze!"

"Dad said to tell Adam—"

"I heard him. I won't keep you, I just—"

"Have y'all heard from Nick?"

Ashley paused. "I haven't. I'll ask Adam when he comes in. Why?"

"He came by this afternoon with Penny and said he'd be back to get her before dark." Natalie switched on the stove before lifting the lid off the pot of soup she'd made for dinner. "He had to run errands, but we haven't heard from him since he left."

"I'm sure he's fine," Ashley said automatically.

"I know, I am too, I just…"

"Worry about him because you're a little bit in love with him."

Natalie set the lid down with force. "I'm not—"

"Gonna tell me the sun's shining, too?"

"If you guys hear from him can you let me know?" she requested.

"Of course. But I'm sure he's fine. The traffic is probably bad because of the snow so he's being careful. I doubt he has his phone in his hand the whole time he's in the car. Y'know, like I do."

Natalie snorted on a laugh. "How many tickets have you gotten for that now?"

"That's not important," Ashley said quickly. "Okay, I'll – Hey babe, have you heard from Nick?"

She could heard Adam's negative reply, muffled, then Lucas chattering. Deflated a little, she moved to gather mugs and the tea. "I figured he hadn't."

"Adam said don't worry."

"I'm not worried."

"Adam said stop lying."

"I'm not—"

"Adam said yes you are."

"Adam ain't said shit," Adam protested in the background. "All I said was what's for dinner?"

Natalie laughed. "Go feed your husband."

"The feminist in my wants to say he can feed himself, but the realist in me knows he'd destroy the kitchen in the process. I'll call you tomorrow. Give Lenny our love."

The call ended before Natalie could reply. While waiting for the kettle to start whistling, she tried Nick again, worry increasing when it rolled to his voicemail. She thought about texting him, but he wasn't big on texting. Sighing, she typed out a quick one to him anyway, keeping the message short and trying not to come across as a worrywart.

It's getting pretty bad here. Just checking to make sure you're okay. Call me?

After she sent it she realized she definitely sounded like a worrywart. Sighing, she pushed the phone into her jeans and drummed her fingers against the countertop.

She and her father ate dinner in the living room. A rare occasion, but the crackling fire was warming and the old Christmas movie playing on TV was comforting. The soup and rolls were filling, and she brought out the brownies she had baked that afternoon. She whipped together some bland chicken and rice and vegetables for Penny, who had followed her to and from the kitchen with an eager expression on her face.

The winds rose, rattling the windows, and she had just finished the dishes when the lights went out.

"It's okay," she crooned softly to Penny when the dog whined. "Everything's alright."

Still no word from Nick. She hadn't been really worried, just a little concerned, but now she truly began to worry. What if he'd had an accident? What if he were stuck in a ditch, injured and not seen because of the snow falling?

Everything's alright, she told herself while lighting candles and two hurricane lamps in the living room. Her father got up and turned on the baseboard then went upstairs to change into pajamas and take his nightly medicine. Natalie busied herself with getting blankets and pillows for the couches, knowing they would camp out in the living room. She tried to get Penny to go outside but the dog shied away from the gust of wind that sent snowflakes swirling through the back door. Standing there, starting to shiver, she looked out at the dying storm and her worry increased.

"I'm going to see if Nick's at home," she announced when her father came downstairs. She had already added an extra layer of clothes and put on her thickest, warmest coat, her boots, and was wrapping a scarf around her neck.

"Natalie, sweetie…" Her father frowned.

"I won't be able to relax until I do." She jammed a hat down over her head and reached for her gloves. "His phone might have died and he can't call."

Leonard sighed. "Take your phone."

"I've got it. I'll call you when I get there."

He nodded. "And be careful."

"I will." She picked up the thermos of coffee she'd prepared. "Penny doesn't want to go out in this, so—"

"She's a smart girl," he said, smiling fondly at the dog waiting for him in the doorway of the living room.

Natalie rolled her eyes. "There's coffee if you want some. I made a pot right before the lights went out."

"Hurry along," her father said. "Call me."

"I will," she promised, heading for the door.

The winds had died down but the snow was still falling. It hit her cheeks like shards of glass and she realized there was sleet mixed in. Her boots crunched through the snow and she twice considered turning back to the warmth of home, but her worry drove her forward. There was absolute silence, broken only by someone's generator, and she had to use a flashlight to see her way along the two blocks to the yellow Victorian. It and the rest of the houses along Halifax Street were dark, though through some windows along her trek she could see the faint glow of candles or camp lights. Nick's house – Matt's, she corrected – was completely dark. She was relieved to see his truck in the driveway and ignored the light in the back yard of the house next door, climbing the snow-covered steps to the front porch.

Next door she heard a chainsaw roar to life. Looking over while knocking on the door, she saw that the back yard was lit by car headlights, illuminating a tree that had fallen, some of its thick branches crumpled against the roof of the detached garage. Knocking again, louder, she winced as the saw began to grind through limbs, accompanied by the crackling as the heavy limbs and branches fell to the ground.

"Come on," she muttered under her breath when her knocks remained unanswered. There was no way he was asleep. She tried to peer through the beveled windows on either side of the door but could see nothing of the interior.

The saw died and she heard male voices. Recognizing one, she nearly dropped the thermos and spun to face the house next door. Of course he was next door, helping his brother's neighbor. She left the thermos by the door and headed over, suddenly understanding and knowing what he had done.

And when she rounded the back corner of the house and he saw her, grin obvious in spite of the scarf shielding the bottom half of his face, she felt weak with relief.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, breathless, after crossing the yard to her. His brow furrowed with worry. "Is everything okay with Lenny?"

"He's fine," she promised, reaching to brush sawdust from the sleeves of his coat. "I was worried about you when you didn't answer my calls."

He sighed. "My phone died on the way back from Fairview. I don't have a charger in the truck. Then when I got here, the power was out, and then George's tree fell, and—"

"And you were only worried about lending a hand," she finished with understanding.

"We're working to get it off the garage." Nick glanced over his shoulder. "Won't be much longer, then I'll take you home, okay?"

"I can—"

"Can you start the fire in the living room for me?" he asked, pulling off a glove and reaching into his pocket. His keys jangled as he handed them over. "It's already set, you just need to light it."

"Of course. I brought you some coffee."

His eyes crinkled. "Great. I'll be over in a few minutes." His bare hand grazed her cheek briefly. "Get inside and warm up."

She nodded, then waved to George before heading back next door.

She took off her boots after getting inside then felt like a burglar, tiptoeing in her socks through the house in the dark. After lighting the fire she began peeling off her gloves, hat, and scarf, holding her hands close to the flames before venturing into the kitchen. She got a mug, sugar and creamer to carry to the living room, then found a jarred candle to light. Wondering if he'd eaten dinner, she was about to check for something she could warm by the fire when she saw a crumpled fast food bag on the counter, next to his dead phone and a stack of receipts.

There was a thump at the back door and she rushed to open it, stepping back as Nick entered. "The fire's going," she said, taking his scarf and hat as he removed them. "I'll fix you a cup of coffee."

"Thanks," he whispered, unzipping his coat.

He smelled of snow and wood. After he tossed his coat over the back of the old chair near the door the faint scent of gasoline disappeared, and she walked in front of him to the living room.

***

The fire gave off heat that warmed his chilled hands and face. The coffee was still hot, warming his stomach, and he chuckled when she got up to get herself a cup from the kitchen. While she was gone he found the bag of candles Shayna had brought down to go on the dining room table, making a mental note to replace them before she came down again. The silver candelabras were wrapped in bubble wrap and the sound of the plastic ripping sounded obnoxiously loud to his ears.

"You did eat, didn't you?" Natalie asked as she returned, empty cup in hand.

"Yeah, I had a burger and fries." Though he had a standing invitation to dinner at the Gibbs house, his plan had been to stop home and plug in his phone then go pick up Penny before the storm got worse. But he had got caught in the worst of it on the highway, forced to drive at a snail's pace. "I'm sorry. I should have stopped somewhere and bought a charger or—"

"It's fine," she promised, kneeling in front of the fire to fix her coffee. She moved the sugar, creamer, and thermos to the side of the hearth and sat back on her heels. "I'm just glad you're okay."

"Worried I was in a ditch, huh?" He chuckled, intending it to be teasing, but felt her tense from across the room. Frowning, he carried the candelabras to the coffee table and picked up the matches to light the candles. "I'm sorry, Natalie."

"No, it's fine," she said softly, looking at the fire. "I just… Yes, I was worried about you."

He nodded and lit the candles, tossing the spent match into the fire. They gave off plenty of light, but he couldn't let himself focus on how the glow of them made her hair lustrous, or how when she looked at him her eyes were luminous with the flames from the fireplace. Sitting next to her on the plush rug he'd put down that morning, he watched her sip her coffee carefully. "How did your mother—"

"Car accident." Her grip on the handle of the mug grew white-knuckled. "She was on her way to Halifax to do Christmas shopping."

No wonder the holidays were so hard for her. Sighing, he looked at the glowing logs. "I'm sorry."

"Another driver hit a patch of ice and skidded, and…" She looked down, as though the coffee in her cup held the secret of how to not hurt over the memory.

"I shouldn't have joked about being in a ditch," he murmured.

"You didn't know." She lifted her head and he heard her draw a breath. "You know where the interstate goes over the White Beck? And just before you get to it there's the drop-off?"

"Yeah."

"She went through the guardrail right there." She took a sip of coffee then set the mug on the hearth. "I always close my eyes when I drive by that spot."

"I don't blame you."

"The police and medical examiner… They said she was gone before the car got to the bottom. I know they meant it to make me feel a little better or whatever, because she didn't suffer, but…"

"It's okay," he murmured when she broke off into a sigh.

"I miss her. They always say time heals wounds but it doesn't. Like, I know she's gone. I saw her. In the casket. But when I go downstairs in the morning and step into the kitchen a part of me expects to see her there, pouring orange juice or making bread. When I go to the bakery, I wait for her to come out of the back wearing her dirty apron and smiling."

"I do that," he said softly, warmed when she moved closer and he could slip his arm around her. Drawing her to him, he pressed a kiss into her hair once her head nestled against his chest. "My grandma. I loved her. Still do, really. I was close to her, closer than Matt was or any of my cousins. I'd go stay at her house on weekends, even when I was a teenager. It was… Nice there. It was nice at home, too, but just a little bit nicer there."

"Was she one of those grandmas that cooked all day and knitted?" she asked. Her arms tucked around his middle and he felt her smile.

"No." He laughed softly at the memories of his unique grandmother. "She ran a motorcycle shop."

"You're kidding." Natalie laughed. "Nanny's Cycles?"

"Actually it was Sadie's Cycles," he corrected. "Her and my step-grandpa did custom work."

"I'm picturing a total badass older lady in all leather."

"Yeah, that was her. The anti-nanny." Grinning now, he squeezed her close briefly. "She ran the shop and was the queen of takeout. I was a shy, quiet kid, and she taught me everything I know."

"Everything?"

"Everything about engines and plumbing and wiring. Her second husband didn't know how to do anything but the stuff in the shop, and she taught herself how to fix things around the house. She taught me as I got old enough to hold the tools."

"She sounds amazing."

"She was. The point is… I still look for her when I'm back home. I go out to my parents' and wait for her to roll up on her Harley. I drive by her old shop and look for her, even though it's a tire place now. And if I get a pizza, I wish she was there to share it with."

"I wish I could have met her, she sounds amazing."

"Do you knit?" he asked suddenly.

She pulled back, looking up at him with confusion etched in her features. "I do. Not much, usually scarves, and last year I knitted a pair of socks for Dad. Why?"

"She would have loved you." Because she had been fascinated by anyone who could do the quintessential domestic duties. Cooking, baking, knitting, decorating… She really would have loved Natalie for her ability to do all that. She would have loved her for other reasons too, he thought, smoothing a lock of hair behind her ear.

"How did she pass?" she asked in a whisper. "If it's too painful, you don't have to—"

"She died in her sleep. Heart attack." He sighed, recalling the dread and anger and shock that had set in when his mother had called to tell him the news. He couldn't remember telling his boss at the burger joint that he had to go, or the drive home, just walking into his house and into his mother's arms. The subsequent days would forever be a blur of family and friends and flowers. Sadness, but also the joy of sharing memories. "She was probably mad about it. She always said she wanted to go out in a blaze of glory."

Natalie's lips curved. "How long ago?"

"I was sixteen, so it's been almost fifteen years. I wish I could tell you the pain goes away. I know it's not the same – she was my grandmother, you lost your mother. But it gets easier."

"It's been ten years. It's gotten a little easier, but I still want to call her or hear her voice when something goes wrong or I'm excited."

"That doesn't go away," he whispered sadly. Even now, so many years later, he would reach for his phone to call his grandmother to ask her opinion on a job he was doing. Sometimes he got so far as to scroll through his contacts looking for her name before he remembered. Once in a while he would call his mother with the intention of getting his grandmother's number, only to remember when he heard his mom's voice that Sadie was gone.

"Sorry I brought up depressing things," she murmured after a moment. She squeezed his middle. Then leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek. "I just – Oh god, I forgot!"

"What?" he grunted, wincing when she pushed away briskly. Reaching for his coffee, he watched her crawl over to the couch, where her coat was.

"Dad. I told him I'd call him when I got here. He's probably worrying—" Pulling out her phone, she snorted when it began to ring. "And there he is! Hey, Dad, sorry…"

Nick half-listened as she explained the reasons behind his not showing up. He thought she exaggerated a little about the tree on George's garage and lifted his eyebrows when she said they were still working and that she was going to start a fire. Keeping silent as she ended the call with a groan of laughter, he waited until she had tossed her phone back onto the couch. He leaned against the hearth, eyes watching her every move as she unzipped the thick hoodie she wore and shrugged it off, then followed her hand when she reached for the buffalo plaid blanket draped over the back of the couch.

She brought it back over with her, spreading it over her lap after she set, and looked at him with a soft smile. "He's glad you're okay."

"Am I okay? I thought I was still outside helping George," he said, flicking the corner of the blanket towards her.

Her cheeks colored. "Yeah… Sorry about that." She cleared her throat and picked up her cup. "I'm just not ready to leave."

"Oh?" He smiled.

"It's nice. Sitting in front of the fire with you and talking? It's more than nice. And if I told him things were fine he would have started—" Natalie cut off with a brief scowl. "Actually he said…"

"What?" he chuckled when she groaned.

"He said to tell you I like my eggs scrambled," she muttered.

"Well…" He cleared his throat, tongue darting over his lips when she tossed the edge of the blanket over his legs. "…Do you?"

"I prefer them over easy, but he can't cook them that way without busting the yolks." A giggle escaped when he caught her hand and pulled her to him.

"I can do sunny side up," he offered.

"Mm, perfect." She moved into his lap and their sigh was mutual as their lips met in a quick kiss.

"I can't cook bacon worth a damn though," he warned, hands sliding to her waist.

"I'll cook the bacon?" Her fingers swept over his jaw and cupped the back of his neck.

"Perfect," Nick agreed with a grin.

***

She had no idea how much time, exactly, passed as she and Nick kissed. Long enough for the fire to die down just a little. Long enough for her to grow overly warm. Long enough for her to push the blanket away and begin tugging the hem of his plaid flannel from the waistband of his jeans. She slipped her fingers beneath once it was free, nudging them beneath the soft cotton of his undershirt so she could feel the heat of his skin.

"I didn't plan this," he whispered between kisses. Hands sweeping down her sides, he caught her by the hips and brought her closer, sighing against her lips when her arms wrapped around him.

"Neither did I." Her skin was warm but goosebumps rose on her arms as his fingers danced to the small of her back. "I really came just to check on you."

"I'm glad you did." He broke his mouth free of hers and dipped his head to kiss her throat, clutching her to him while he guided her down onto the rug.

She had hoped their first time together would be in a bed, but she was too impatient to wait even the few moments needed to get candles and go upstairs. Later, she decided, fingers finding the band holding his hair back. They could go upstairs later. Pulling the band free, she sighed as his silken hair spilled forward, briefly shielding her from the light of the fire. His lips were on hers again and she forgot about beds entirely, sandwiched between him and the plush rug.

He pulled back, gently shushing when she whined. She stared up at him, licking her lips as the firelight danced on face skin. His left side was in full light, the glow of the candles flickering along his right. She enjoyed the contrast and was about to sit up for another kiss when he began unbuttoning his shirt. She boosted up enough to wriggle out of her sweater and tossed it aside, hands moving to his waist and guiding the long-sleeved shirt he wore up his torso. He yanked it over his head then his lips were on hers, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of her fleece-lined leggings. She reached to push them down, getting them just past her hips when one finger traced the band of her panties.

The kiss grew desperate. Natalie gripped his shoulders, his back, her urgent cries dying against his tongue as he teased and delved. The logs in the fire shifted and she heard them snap and crackle. His fingers dipped lower, and when his thumb began to strum her clit she broke the kiss with a needy cry. "Nick…"

"Off," he whispered, pulling his hand from her pants with a groan. She watched, panting, as he sucked the wet from his fingers, and fell back on the plush rug when he reached for the waistband of her leggings. Her hips lifted and she let out a shaky gasp as they were peeled down then tossed aside. Then he was reaching for his belt.

She sat up, pushing his hands away so she could do it. Her lips met his in a needy kiss and though she wanted to, she found she couldn't pull away to drink in the sight of him after she unfastened his jeans and pushed them down. Settling on exploring with her hands, she hummed into his mouth while her fingers wrapped around his cock, swallowed his little groan as she began stroking him gently. His hands tugged at her bra and she whined when she was forced to let go of him long enough for him to drag the straps down her arms.

"Fuck," he breathed, hands grasping her thighs and squeezing.

"Yeah," she gasped. Her hips squirmed closer. She was slick – his fingers had made sure of that – and when she had wriggled close enough to feel the tip of him glide along her slit, she moaned.

He whispered his name, a faint plea, fingers digging into her flesh as he shifted so she straddled his lap fully. He leaned back, breath hissing between his teeth, his eyes blazing brighter than the fire.

"Oh god," she moaned raggedly as she sank down on him, hands flying to his shoulders. He filled her, stretched her, sending ripples of delight through her that made her toes curl and her thighs shake. Nick didn't rush her, hands gripping and stroking as she shivered through the sensations. She unclenched her fingers from his shoulders and found his lips for a kiss, rolling her hips slowly.

"Yeah, nice and slow," he whispered. His palms glided up her sides, thumbs reaching to stroke the outer curves of her breasts. She watched his tongue dart over his lips as he leaned back slightly. Then his fingers were gently pinching and pulling at her nipples, tugging until she was whining.

"Nick," she gasped, grasping his wrists. Her hips rolled faster and she pushed down hard, need beginning to take over. She felt and heard herself grow wetter, then his low grown that signaled he'd felt it, too. Letting go of him, she focused on keeping her motions slow, ignoring the urge to bounce wildly.

His hands dropped to her thighs, landing heavy, stinging lightly. He squeezed, nails scraping, then pushed her thighs further apart. He released a harsh breath and she waited for him to lie back and continue giving her full control. One hand drifted upward and his eyes lit as the tips of his fingers grazed her clit and she squeezed her thighs together, pushing her hips forward to increase the pressure.

Then, in a blur, she was on her back. He was over her, expression intense and strained, her name a faint growl just as his lips met hers. In the brief moment of clarity she registered the juxtaposition of his tender kiss and the frantic, almost rough thrusts of his hips. Delight ripped through her, lifted her hips from the rug, sent one of her arms straight above her head, fingers clawing for purchase. A shriek tore from her throat, died in his mouth as his hand found hers. His fingers wedged between hers and squeeze, his hips never faltering their rhythm. Strumming her clit, he moaned when she trembled. Following as she shook and squirmed, he pushed harder, lips sliding to her cheek.

"C'mon," he whispered, hot and breathless. "C'mon, honey…"

"Yeah… I'm close," she panted, tightening her hold on his hand. Squeezing her legs around him, she tipped her head back, trying to snatch in a breath.

His hips shifted, sending him deeper, and his resulting moan made her weak. Head tipping back, she rolled beneath him, the faint understanding that it never felt this intense and wonderful before slipping to the back of her mind. The stubble on his jaw scraped her skin as his lips dragged down the side of her neck and she gulped in the bit of air she could manage, drinking in the scent of him.

"Oh my god oh my god oh my god," she whined. Her legs locked, muscles straining, and she heard his small sound of delight as her hips shoved upward. One second ecstasy was just out of reach and the next it was ripping through her, constricting her body then shaking it, forcing her lips to part and yanking a disjointed cry from her throat.

"Oh god," he moaned, low and deep, in her ear as she continued to shake. His thrusts grew irregular, harder, then suddenly he was a bundle of tension above her. She could feel the delight flow throughout his body, felt his cock pulse as he panted and moaned. Humming as he flooded her with searing heat, she parted her lips for his fervent kiss. A whine escaped when his fingers slid, trembling, to her hip, felt the shaking in his arm as it slipped around her, holding her to him.

Once the pulse in her ears slowed, she could hear the crackling of the fire. There was a distant, steady hum, and as the kiss grew tender she realized her ears were ringing. Her body was weak, covered in their sweat, and after his hand released hers she painstakingly lifted it to drape it around him. "Mm," she hummed when he sighed.

Nick lifted up slowly, still panting, hair shining in the glow of the candles and the fire. Moaning as their flesh peeled away, he swept his hand from her hip to her face, thumb tracing her bottom lip. He didn't speak, merely stared into her eyes, and she thought she could read the emotion in his gaze. Licking his lips when she lowered her legs to the rug, he eased his hips back with a soft hiss.

She rolled to face him as he lay next to her, watching the firelight play on his face and highlight the sheen of sweat on his chest. He pushed his hair back, lips tilting into a smile, and she felt her heart skip at least four beats.

"Yeah?" he whispered when she smiled.

"Yeah," she echoed.

"You're beautiful, by the way," he murmured, stretching out his arm to grab the blanket.

"So are you," she said honestly, sighing as he brought the blanket over their bodies. His arm slipped under her, cradling her neck and she wiggled closer, enjoying the sensation of him smoothing her hair back.

"You are staying all night, right?" he asked after a moment.

"Mmhmm." She couldn't move if she wanted to. And she didn't want to. Ever, really, but more urgently, she didn't want to move right then. She wanted to feel the heat of his body against hers. The steady pounding of his heart beneath her ear. His hand in her hair. His lips on her forehead.

"For breakfast?"

She laughed, slow and with a groan, and lifted her head. "For you."

He grinned and it took her breath away all over again.

#aew #nick jackson #aew fanfiction #nick jackson fanfiction #my fics #multipart: RPC #proofread? i don't know her #edit? i don't know her either #12daysofchristmas

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imaginethathaikyuu · 5 years

Text

kinktober - day 12

ukai keishin - public sex

kinktober faq prompt list

*NSFW warning featuring sex in a public place, dirty talk, also lots of dialogue and probably too much story lmao* fem reader

“Hello, Ukai!”

“What are you doing here?!”

“This is a convenience store and I needed a few things -”

“We’re closed, Y/N.”

You glanced over your shoulder. “Huh. Weird. The sign still says open.”

“Goddammit,” he said under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Just get your tampons and get out.”

“I don’t need tampons,” you replied. “I need dish soap. And rice. And cigarettes.”

“Oh, you taking up smoking again?”

“Yeah - my shitty boyfriend is driving me to give them another try.”

You could hear his sigh from across the store. He brushed a hand through his hair, pulling off the headband keeping it in place.

“You’re going to drive me to smoke something harder.”

“You can hardly handle smoking pot, babe.”

He lit up a cigarette in hopes of it somehow drowning out your annoying voice. And you dropped your things onto the counter next to the register, looking up at him with a condescending grin.

“Will that be all?”

“That’s all.”

“Thought you only needed rice,” he grumbled as he scanned your extra items.

“Why do you care what I buy, Ukai?”

“Will you stop calling me that? Your total is 17.82.”

“What would you rather me call you while we aren’t on speaking terms?”

He held his hand out for your money; you made sure to brush his hand with yours, he made sure to grasp the tip of your finger when he wrapped his hand around your cash. “I’d rather you not call me anything.”

“Got it.”

He sighed again. He shouldn't have said that. But it was too late now - it had been said, and you were pissed.

Rather, you were more pissed. And he didn’t even know what you’d spent two weeks being pissed about - which made him pissed.

He bagged your things and said, “give me a few minutes and I’ll walk you home.”

“No.”

“I wasn’t asking you. I was telling you.”

“Are you going to hold my hand when we cross the street, too?”

“Depends, are you going to let me?”

“No. And I don’t need you to walk me there.”

“I don’t care,” he replied, pulling off his white apron. “It’s dark. And that dress is bordering on too revealing. You aren’t leaving here alone.”

“I got here just fine by myself, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, and you shouldn’t have. Why didn’t you just call and tell me to bring you this shit -”

“Why are you suddenly acting like you care, Ukai?”

“You know I don’t like you walking alone at night -” he paused to draw from his cigarette, “you’re going to be the fucking death of me, Y/N.”

“Right back at you.” You reached across the counter and grabbed your grocery bag. “I’ll be leaving now. I’ll make sure to go to a different store from now on.”

“No, Y/N,” he said, reaching across to grab your wrist. “You aren’t going to do that. And you aren’t walking home alone.”

“You aren’t my father -”

“You’re really pissing me off, Y/N, just stay here!”

“What do I get out of doing that?”

He dropped your wrist. “I dunno. Stay and find out.”

As he sat down in his stool, he tossed you his pack of cigarettes. You pulled one out and used a lighter from the stand on the counter light it.

“If you would have been doing your job and locked up on time, I wouldn’t have been able to come in.”

He sat back in his chair, propping his feet up on the counter. “Yeah, well, maybe I was hoping you’d stop by.”

You scoffed, “I’m sure you were just thrilled at the thought of seeing me.”

“You obviously came here on purpose -”

“And I won’t make that mistake again,” you said as you walked around the counter to grab the ash tray that sat on the table behind Ukai.

He gave you a heavy glare, one you couldn’t look away from as you ashed your cigarette.

“Look,” he started, pulling his feet down to sit up straight. “Can you just drop it, please?”

“Drop what?”

“Your mood. Whatever it is that we’re fighting over. Can’t you just let it go?”

“Don’t you have work to be doing?”

“Nope.”

You rolled your eyes and put out the last half of your cigarette in the ashtray. “Well I’m ready to go home, and I’m leaving with or without you.”

“No, you aren’t,” he replied, grabbing your arm and pulling you back to face him. He was smirking up at you - god dammit, he was handsome. “And I’m not ready to go yet.”

“You’re annoying.”

“You just realizing that?” he smirked. His hand slid down to catch your hand in his. “I don’t care how annoyed you are - I’m not leaving until we kiss and make up.”

“Pass.”

“Pass?! You mean you don’t want to kiss this face?”

“No, I don’t - and you can stop trying to make me laugh.”

“That is definitely not what I’m doing,” he replied. “I just don’t want you to be angry anymore. Honestly, you’re really annoying when you’re mad, and I really hate sleeping alone.”

You tugged your hand out of his, “I’m sure you do.”

“It’s true! You’ve been sleeping in my bed since high school, Y/N - it feels different when there isn’t a you sized lump behind me.”

You didn’t have anything to say back - honestly, he made a good argument. You didn’t like sleeping alone either, although you definitely weren’t going to tell him that.

“I know you miss me too - you don’t have a good poker face, Y/N.”

“I’m not dropping it,” you retorted.

“Do you even remember what we’re fighting over?”

Shit.

“I… duh, of course I do.”

“Then do you care to jog my memory?”

When you didn’t reply, he didn’t hesitate to stand up while snickering at you.

“That’s what I thought. Now come here - one kiss and we’ll be all made up.”

“I’m not forgiving you that easily,” you mumbled.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make it up to your grumpy ass. As soon as you remember what the hell you’re even mad about.”

His big hands came up to rest on either side of your face and then he pressed a sloppy kiss to your lips - and he didn’t care that you weren’t bothering to kiss him back.

“That’s better,” he mumbled. “I’ve missed kissing you so much.”

“I bet.”

“I have,” he said. “And I’ve missed doing other things even more.”

“Why are you always so dirty -”

“Not always! I’m just saying, the offer is on the table…”

“You want to do it now?!”

“I mean... I have been staring at your ass since you walked in.”

“Of course you have - hey!”

His hand clapped down on your ass, grabbing himself a handful and interrupting whatever the hell you were saying.

“What if I make it up to you right now?”

“Here?”

“Where else? Turn around for me.”

You turned around. “I don’t know - your bedroom that’s literally right upstairs - Keishin!”

“I can’t wait that long,” he retorted after slapping your ass once again. “We’re the only ones down here, so why not?”

“Because anyone could walk in.”

It was too late for you to make arguments - Keishin already had himself pressed up against you, and he was hard.

“Just let me fulfill my fantasy of fucking you over this counter, okay?”

“This is your fantasy?” you snorted, hiking your dress up for him.

“One of them.” He pushed you to bend over the counter as he unzipped his pants. “I’ll be quick, don’t worry.”

“I’m sure you’ll cum as fast as always - don’t forget a condom.”

“I’m wearing one, calm down,” he said as he was rolling it on - he pulled it from his wallet. “I learned my lesson last month.”

“Good, now hurry before anyone walks in.”

He pressed kisses to your neck as he said, “Is this what you came here for, Y/N?”

“Maybe.”

“I can tell. You could’ve worn less incriminating panties, you know.”

You smirked to yourself - you wore his favorite pair, just in case.

Keishin pulled the thin fabric to the side just enough to slide himself into you slowly - you felt his warm breath on your shoulder as he filled you.

“God, I’ve missed you,” he said with a grin. “My hand just isn’t the same.”

“My vibrator does a pretty good job.”

“Bullshit,” he breathed. His pace was slow and steady - just like he loved it.

“Well… it doesn’t talk, so it’s already got one up on you.”

“What, you don’t like my dirty talk, baby?”

That nickname was absolutely your weakness. His voice was so deep and throaty; his words were matter of fact. There was just something about the way he addressed you that way, speaking directly to you that made your knees go weak.

Even though you had been with the man since high school, the flame he lit in your heart was still burning - though you hated to admit it, because he never stopped teasing you for it.

“Just go harder, Keishin,” you demanded, and he obeyed with a short nod. He reached around you to brace himself on the counter so he could thrust as hard as he knew you needed him to.

“I’ve missed this so much, fuck,” Keishin moaned. “I told you I’d be quick.”

“You’re always quick,” you replied.

“I won’t cum ‘til you do, I’m not impolite.”

“If you can make me cum.”

You heard him scoff - and knew you had pushed him far enough when his thrusts got harder, faster, deeper. And fuck, it felt good. Partnered with his familiar deep moans, you knew you were a goner.

You were putty in his hands - both of you knew that.

“Imagine if someone walked in right now, baby… imagine the look on their face when they walked in on this beautiful girl being fucked over the counter - fuck, this is so hot.”

“Keishin… please,” you begged - and you didn’t even know what you were begging for.

“You better hurry and cum,” he taunted, “you don’t want to get caught, do you? Cum for me, baby.”

His thrusts were strong, his moans were ragged, his words were way too hot - you couldn’t take it. You’ve needed this for two weeks now, and there was absolutely no holding back your orgasm.

“Yes, cum for me - god, I’m cumming, too, fuck, Y/N!”

It felt perfect. Truth be told your vibrator was no where near good enough - nothing was good enough but him, nothing and no one else could make you feel this amazing. You didn’t think the feeling would ever end - your body was screaming for him, you were moaning his name over and over and over, the fire he’d lit in your heart was spreading everywhere.

When his movements stopped, you began calming down - and his voice pulled you above water.

“God, it feels good to not be fighting.”

Your response was a nod as you forced yourself to stand up straight after he pulled out. Your back strained, your knees were weak, and you could hardly hold your eyes open.

Keishin pulled your underwear up for you and gave you a kiss on your forehead.

“Nice to have you back,” he said with a wink. “Wait here ‘til I lock up.”

“Can’t I just wait for you in bed?”

“Who said you could stay over?”

You scoffed as he chuckled to himself, and you hopped up on the counter to wait for him. Looking down at his pack of cigarettes that sat next to you, you found yourself in deep thought. And then…

“I remembered what we’re fighting over.”

tune in tomorrow for kinktober day 13: intercural sex

#kinktober 2019 #kinktober #ukai keishin #ukai keishin x reader #ukai x reader #haikyuu one shot #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #not family friendly

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notaburgler · 4 years

Text

Catch me off guard, Ok? Aizawa x Fem!Reader SFW

You worried. You worried during the day, you worried at night. You just plain worried. The lingering feeling of dread followed you no matter how many times he said he was perfectly capable of defending himself.

“I’ve trained for years. I know how to do this. You have no reason to worry,” he would say with a lazy smile and a kiss to your forehead.

You still worried. He was always so tired; so out of it. It started as a simple fear of losing your new husband, but after years together and the attack on the USJ, it turned into paranoia.

You’d call him at all hours when he wasn’t home. This wasn’t an untrusting wife checking in on her husband to make sure he wasn’t cheating— you knew he’d never do that— it was a wife scared she’d get a call from the cops and would have to prepare a funeral for the love of her life. Some might say it was pregnancy brain since you had just found out you were with child a few months back. You’d dismiss this claim stating you had feared for his safety for years.

You really shouldn’t worry. Shouta was quick on his feet and had an awareness of his surroundings that most people didn’t. His quirk, although useful, wasn’t a quirk meant for strength and fighting, so to say. He compensated by familiarizing himself with hand to hand combat and the use of his capture weapon. But you still worried.

He grumbled as he squatted on a rooftop watching people pass by in the darkness. It was a slow night. “Yes, dear?” He answered his buzzing phone just as he did forty-five minutes ago.

He loved you, but your fear was a bit annoying at times. You needed rest but you’d stay up all night scared that someone would take him away from you, and it only got worse once you found out you two were going to be parents.

“Baby,” he sighed and leaned back against a wall, “I know you are worried, but I’m fine. No one's gonna hurt me.” He couldn't help but smile at your crazy babbling.

Not many people in his life had cared so much about him and showed it so openly. “Our baby won’t grow up without a dad. I promise. Now go to sleep and I’ll be home soon.”

He snickered at your light crying, “I’m not making fun of you babe. Please go to sleep. I’ll be home soon.” He waited for your response.

This, the tears, were definitely the pregnancy. It just recently started. “Good night, babe. I love you.” He hung up and went back to watching the streets.

****

“I just think that while I’m carrying your baby inside of my body, You should be home every night,” you argued that morning as your husband tried to stay awake, resting his hand on his face to prop it up. “See!” You screamed making his eyes bulge open and his head shoot up, “You're falling asleep at the table! How am I supposed to feel ok with you out fighting villains when you can’t even stay awake at home?” You spoke with slightly trembling lips and a lump in your throat.

“I just woke up, babe,” he reasoned, the best he could.

“Just-“ your thought was cut off.

“Alright.” He sat up and shook his tiredness away. “I’ll prove that, even when I’m tired and groggy and half-asleep, I can still dodge any attack coming my way.”

You furrowed your brows in question. How did he intend to prove something like that?

“I want you to start throwing random stuff at me. At any moment. In the shower, when I’m cooking. As I’m sitting eating breakfast. Just toss it at me as hard as you can.” He stated taking a bite of food before grabbing his scarf and heading to the door.

“Catch me off guard, ok?” He gave you a smile and left.

You had the rest of the day to think on it. Could you get yourself to throw stuff at your husband? What if you were right and you ended up hurting him? You wouldn't be able to live with the shame of hurting your love when he wasn't paying attention. But the invitation was intriguing. You did have some pent up frustration since you got pregnant. It was his fault to begin with anyway. Or at least, that’s what you told yourself.

Having taken time off work, you got to prepping the baby’s room. Shouta wouldn’t let you paint because of the fumes, but he didn’t seem to be jumping to get it done either. In a few short months that room would be occupied, and Shouta was always such a busy man.

You let out a sigh when you felt a kick. “Well don't be mad at me,” you say as you started putting the crib together. “Your dad didn’t pull out and that’s his fault.” You kept going, spending your day complaining to your baby about your frustrations.

You’d go back and forth on the subject: how much you loved Shota to how much you resented him for being able to leave the house. Lately, it had become far too dangerous to go anywhere. With All Might in retirement, the villains were running around like caffeine-driven, unattended toddlers in a candy store. You felt safer behind those four walls with a heavily locked door between you and the world. Soon, Shouta would come home and you would feel safer still. He didn’t have patrol that night and you needed to go grocery shopping; a chore you loved doing with him. But before that, you still had a lot of stuff to do to prepare for the baby.

The cats nearly killed you on multiple occasions; swerving in and out of your legs as you walked. You wouldn't be surprised if he came home with another cat sometime soon. The two you already had were brought in on rainy days. Shouta looked to you with an uncharacteristically pouty face, batting his eyes and silently begging to let him keep them. You relented, soon loving your little fur babies. He always got upset that the cats liked you more, and you loved rubbing it in his face when the opportunities arose.

He came home to see you still trying to figure out the crib and leaned on the door frame to watch. “Are you gonna help or just make fun of me?” you asked with attitude.

He smiled, but remained still until your brows furrowed. “Just gimme a minute to change,” he said at last with a laugh.

You huffed, gripping the wrench tight in your hand. As if possessed by some demonic force, you turned your growing body and tossed the wrench at him as he left. Instantly, watching the heavy metal object fly through the air with a whoosh, you felt the regret sink into your bones. He tilted his head just in time and the wrench flew past him and landed in the living room with a small thud.

“See babe.” His light snicker only made the anger you felt a few moments ago boil up once more, “I can dodge anything you send my way.”

You were still mad as you marched up and down the aisles at the grocery store. He smiled, happy as a clam. You knew he thought you were so cute when you were angry. The small wobble of your gait made his heart melt. Bow legged and huffy with attitude, you grabbed a can of soup, and as he turned his back to check the rice selection, you narrowed your eyes and tossed the can as hard as you could.

He didn’t even lift his head. He didn’t even glance your way. He simply lifted his hand and snatched the can mid air, tossing it over his shoulder and into the cart. It was impressive. Maybe you were wrong about his inability to defend in a tired state. For a moment, you relented in his claims that he was capable of defending himself; but part of you felt this exercise of throwing random items at your husband, knowing he’d catch them, was a bit… therapeutic.

He looked up with a bag of rice and tossed it in the cart with a yawn. Maybe he was trying to trick you into thinking he was tired when in reality, he had slept all day in class.

“Babe?” you asked.

He hummed, looking up and down the cereal aisle.

“I think you’re trying to trick me.” You huffed with your hands on your hips and pouty lips.

He kept looking at the boxes. This drove you up the wall.

“Babe!” you screamed.

“I’m not tricking you or lying to you. I’m just proving my point. Keep throwing things at me until you feel I’ve made my point, that any time, any where, I can dodge an attack.” He selected his cereal and put it in the cart.

Shota kissed your forehead and moved along. The rest of your shopping adventure was uneventful other than a few more attempts to catch him off guard.

At home you tried again. You threw everything you could as fast as you could while unloading the groceries, but your damn husband had reflexes like a cat. He wasn’t even sweating and you were out of breath.

He turned around and let his shoulders fall, that same drowsy look painted all over his face. “Are you done?”

His question was met with a pout and a huff. “You're just hyper aware that I’m trying. I’m gonna get you when you least expect it.” You pointed out to him with a determined stance.

****

The next day was uneventful. You lounged around waiting for Shouta to get home. You were bored and restless. As the hours passed, you managed to keep busy with housework and working on the baby blanket you were crocheting; you hatched a plan that would easily catch him off guard. You selected a stress ball as you item of choice and as the hour hit five, you crouched into your hiding spot waiting for the familiar jingle of his key chain at the front door.

A wicked smile crept to your normally soft face hearing that squeak of the door hinge he had promised to fix ages ago.

When the door shut, you had to hold your breath to stop the urge to snicker. “Babe?” He yelled tossing his keys to the counter top, “Babe?”

His footsteps made their way down the hall to your shared room and another squeak of a hinge made you bite your lip in anticipation. It was exhilarating. Hiding in wait to attack your husband, no matter how harmless the attack may be. It was fun and kept you busy.

“Babe?” He asked once more, looking inside the dark room.

You hurled the stress ball at him as he turned to look into the bathroom.

This was it. He was gonna get hit. He hadn’t slept a wink the night before and the phone call you had with him from earlier made you positive that he would be way too out of it to dodge this one.

But of course, his hand swatted the ball away, and to prove his point, he used his scarf to wrap you up and draw you to him.

His Cheshire grin made you even more angry, in a playful way, of course. He was so confident and cocky about it. “Babe, you can’t get me, even if you are hiding in the dark.” He smirked, kissing your cheek and heading back out to the living room.

His scarf unwound and fell to the floor at your feet. You looked down at the material. He was so quick to coil it around you, gentle enough as to not hurt you, but strong enough to keep you from moving or being able to free yourself.

You smiled. You were so lucky to have him. Your mood swings had taken hold and you had been emotional about everything. He stood by smiling and holding you, even when you’d call him a heartless monster or something even worse. It wouldn’t be but a few short minutes later that you’d curl up in his arms and demand love from him- a silent apology for your actions and words.

He had already started the movie he promised and was in the kitchen popping the popcorn. You relaxed on the couch, sinking into the plush cushions you knew you’d need help out of later. He looked in the fridge for drinks. With how frequent your tastebuds and cravings had changed, he wasn’t sure what to get you anymore.

“Babe,” he yelled lifting his hand to grab the remote hurled at his head, “milk or tea?” He looked up to see you struggling to adjust again.

You crossed your arms. “Tea.”

*****

As the weeks passed, most of your attempts to get Shouta had failed. Actually, all of them failed. But this time… this time, you’d get him.

He stood at his podium speaking to his class. Your eyes scanned over each one wondering which ones were the problem children he had mentioned in his nightly rants. The spiky blonde was the kid on the news that was abducted by the villains. And the green haired one was always at the center of each villain attack. You glared at them both. They were the reason you had gone completely nuts with paranoia.

You gripped the egg in your hand. You never wanted to hurt him, you just wanted to make sure he was safe when he was out doing his hero work.

“Alright class,” his eyes were basically closed, “Hero work is more than just saving lives and fighting villains.” Shouta always complained about how this part of class would lose them: hero laws.

As he reached for his book on his desk near the corner, the door slid open. His class glanced over expecting a surprise teacher, only to see a very tiny pregnant woman throwing something small and white at their teacher.

A collective gasp echoed in the room, but before anyone could warn him, Shouta had already grabbed his book and held it up in front of himself; the egg splattering across the cover.

“Babe,” he sighed, checking the damage, “really?”

You shrugged. This time, your emotions didn’t get the best of you. This was fun. And it was possible that getting out of the house helped make you feel more calm when your plan failed.

A student spoke up, “Mr. Aizawa?” The trouble child, Midoriya shakily raised his hand, “What just happened?” The kid was a nervous wreck and you only threw an egg at his teacher.

The explanation went over with shocked faces and a few stars shining in their eyes. Most didn’t know their home room teacher was even married, let alone expecting a child. They all seemed to be engaged by the sudden arrival of his wife, and he took that as a sign that the lesson wouldn’t happen any time soon. He was bombarded with questions that he knew, if left unanswered, would distract them enough to make his lesson go unheard.

“So let me get this straight,” Kaminari leaned back in his chair playing with Ojiros tail, “you're married and expecting a baby with a super hot babe of a wife. And that babe of a wife randomly throws things at you for fun?”

Shouta, clearly over this conversation, responded with an exasperated sigh, “She’s worried I’ll get hurt on the job. So I challenged her to throw things at me at random times and as hard as she can so that I can prove that I’m capable of defending myself even if I’m dead tired.”

You smiled at him and kissed his cheek before leaving. You still weren’t convinced that he wouldn’t die a painful death, but all of that walking made you tired yourself.

As you left the classroom, you heard the hollers of the students. A smile graced your lips; you had gained more people in your venture to keep your husband on edge and aware.

“Mr. Aizawa!” A voice came barreling down the hallway making you stop to listen.

“You all need far more training to be able to hit me with anything.”

He sounded so cocky, it was kinda sexy. You left vowing to make sure that he was well taken care of that night. “Oh he’s so getting some when he gets home.” You laughed, carefully making your way down the staircase.

Upon arriving home, you waited. Maybe you’d give it a break for a few days. After his students’ declaration to join you in your task, he was sure to be tired. But that tiredness would serve as a good means to catch him off guard. You mulled over the thought as his keychain jingled. A heat rushed to your cheeks and a tense, tightness grew in your chest. You were anxious to see the love of your life. He hesitantly opened the door, his eyes peeking in and scanning the living room first. He was definitely on edge. His class must have really put him through the wringer if he was this paranoid. His eyes, more blood shot than usual, landed on you cross legged on the couch with your blanket on your lap.

You tried to hold back the smile, but couldn’t muster the strength in you to do so. “Don’t worry babe, I’m not gonna try tonight. Come sit with me.” You patted your lap signaling you wanted him to place his head there so you could play with his hair.

He was still hesitant, his thoughts clear to your knowing gaze. Was this all an act to catch him off guard? Was this just his loving wife being sweet and doting? Maybe asking you to catch him off guard wasn’t the best idea. He’d probably feel safer standing at the end of a shooting range and dodging bullets.

His head fell into your lap and you chuckled at how tense he was. “I promise, no throwing things tonight. I’ve got sexier things in mind for you.”

He looked up into your eyes, “All day,” he finally closed his own eyes for the first time that day. “All day students were throwing things at me. Even the teachers got involved- and not in the way you’d expect.” A long sigh lasted the duration of his speech.

You spent the night catering to your man. Letting him know how appreciative you are of him. He took care of you and watched out for you, even after dealing with a bunch of prepubescent high schoolers all day. You took the lead, letting him enjoy himself and relax. You could see the waves of stress rise from his body with every passing moment. Laying down to sleep for the night, you kissed him on the lips and smiled down. He was already asleep.

“Tomorrow, I’m gonna getcha. But tonight, sleep well.”

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