#the rest of the band be like “yo so do we keep playing or should we give y'all some privacy?” | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hisoknen · 4 years

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kinktober day 5: incest warnings: incest, dubcon, somnophilia wc: 3k

a/n: huge thanks to @10millionyearsdungeon for always fueling my brain with the best juice and working through this with me, and @firefistmyass for helping me formulate the concept. i would have fallen flat without both of your support <3

Your parents were gone for the weekend, leaving you home alone with Kirishima. It wouldn’t be something you gave much thought to usually. You would stay in your room watching TV or go bother him about what he was doing now that you were out of the house.

The two of you had gotten along well growing up together; he was always there to support you through everything. Breakups, bad grades, trouble with friends. But recently, you couldn’t help but feel drawn to him in a way that didn’t feel the same as before.

You would be home from University for the summer and wanted to spend every second you could get with him. But there was something new about him you hadn’t noticed before, and you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

What you did know was the way you felt about your brother made you anxious in his presence, and if you didn’t imagine things, he’d started to act differently as well.

Now when you’d come to him with your troubles, he would lift your chin and lay a soft kiss on your forehead, telling you that “no matter what he’d be there for you,” pulling you in close to his body for a lingering hug—hands resting at the small of your back.

When you found him sitting on the couch playing video games, he would wave you over to sit on his lap, guiding your hands on the controller. When you’d get the hang of it, he would rest his hands on your hips or thighs, rubbing gentle patterns into your skin—low purrs into your ear, telling you just how cute you looked that day.

Every stroke sent a wave of curiosity and doubt coursing through you. There was no way for him to know how his actions were making you feel. He was just reassuring you.

You had to be the one getting the wrong idea.

He would come into your room late at night to watch movies with you. Laying his arm under your neck and taking you into the warmth of his sturdy body. Dipping his fingers beneath the hem of your shirt and tracing circles into your skin absentmindedly. You would sometimes lean into him and stretch your body so he could touch more of you, and he always would.

When his friend Bakugou would come over, Kirishima would knock off his friend’s advances and push you out of the room. Eventually, Bakugou stopped showing up altogether, leaving you and Kiri more time alone. But any brother would be upset with their friend hitting on their little sister. He was just looking out for you because he wanted the best for you.

A few nights ago, while everyone was talking at a family dinner, you found your hand resting on his upper thigh. You remembered it vividly. As soon as you noticed, you tried to tear it away, feeling a tug at your wrists. Looking up, you saw Kirishima staring down at you.

He directed his attention back to your parents, slowly guiding your hand to the bulge in his pants, moving it up and down his length. His fingers tightened around you, and a breath escaped his parted lips.

Heat crept up your neck, blossoming to the shells of your ears. You squirmed in your seat, rubbing your thighs against each other, warmth spreading to the hollow of your belly. You tried desperately to quiet your breath, not to arouse any suspicion. Focusing back on the table, continuing the conversation with your parents as though your older brother wasn’t jerking himself off with your hand.

You could feel his pants beginning to dampen with precum. This isn’t what older brothers did. His fingers cling to you, moving them at a faster pace. A low noise rumbled in his throat, and right when you thought you’d get caught, he abruptly excused himself from the table.

Ever since that night, he began avoiding you altogether. Heading out for work earlier than usual and staying out late with friends. Whenever you would run into him, he was short with you, looking down at the floor and scratching his neck.

When you reached out to touch him, he flinched away as though your hands were on fire. You would stay up late checking the cock, hoping he would come in and watch movies with you again, but he never did.

---

You open the front door, grabbing the box from the ground. Eijirou Kirishima.

With it in hand, you took cautious steps toward his room, listening at the door. It had been a week since he spoke with you. You paused, raising your hand to knock before stopping. Something was coming from behind the door. He was probably just making plans with a friend to go out again later. You wondered if he would even take the package from you or tell you to leave it there.

“Fuck y/n,”

The box almost dropped from your hands. Hearing him say your name after so long sent a jolt straight to your core.

“Just like that.”

Biting back a moan, you gently turn the knob. You could feel your heartbeat in your ears. Shakily trying to slow your breathing, as not to make a sound. His back was against the bed. Arm thrown over his face, nose resting against the crook of his elbow.

His body was glimmering with sweat, chest heaving with each breath. All of the doubts you had before dissipated. He had one hand wrapped around his cock, thrusting into his fist while moaning your name.

You knew you shouldn't be watching. You grew up together; this wasn't right. You should be terrified that your older brother had uttered your name while touching himself. Yet you were stuck in place. Greedily harvesting every inch of his body in your memory.

You slipped out of your panties, the fabric softly landing on the floor. Kicking them to the side, you let your fingertips wander down your body. Becoming absorbed in each move Kirishima made, you dipped your fingers into your pussy, moving them in tandem with his thrusts.

The shrill ring of his phone broke the tension in the room. He immediately shot up to grab it. You pulled your hands from your dripping cunt, wiping your fingers onto the skirt, quietly heading back to your room.

---

On your way back from grabbing a snack, you felt a heavy sense of dread fall into your gut, remembering that you left your underwear outside of his room. Quickly heading for his door, you frantically look around for them; they were gone.

No matter how much you tried to reason, there was no one else in this house but the two of you. If he were upset, you would have heard about it already.

You quietly tap at the door before twisting the handle. Kirishima was passed out cold. Trying not to wake him, you ease onto the bed, crawling up close to his sleeping body. He looked so tempting like this—your hero.

You knew it was a bad idea, but you were already making your way between his thighs before you could stop to second guess yourself. Pushing his shirt up to expose his hardening nipples to the cold air. His breath was even and relaxed, the rise and fall of his diaphragm, steady. There was a slight sheen of sweat covering his skin.

You glance back up at him, his features unmoving. What would he do if he caught you like this? Would he throw you to the side and tell your parents? Or would he push you down onto the bed and fuck you himself?

Your vision pulses as you think about what you’re about to do. Your hands casually making their way down to the patch of black hair on his lower abdomen, stopping short of where you craved touching him most. If you did, there would be no going back.

There was no way to come up with an excuse as to why your fingers were wrapped around his cock while he was asleep. You dipped your fingers under the band of his shorts, pulling his cock from within the confines.

You could have sworn you saw something move. Kirishima seemed to falter above you, but he was still fast asleep.

You lowered your head, planting delicate kisses around the base of his cock. He must have been having a good dream, you thought to yourself, drawing one finger up the length of his engorged cock. It felt heavy in your hands and was larger than you could feel under his pants or see through the door earlier.

There was already a bead of pre-cum dripping at his slit. You bring your mouth onto his tip dipping your tongue out to taste him. It was salty and stuck to your tongue, but you wanted more. You open your jaw wide, taking as much as you can before hollowing your cheeks sucking him in. He lets out a soft groan, but when you glanced up again, his eyes are still closed.

Even in the silent room, you can still hear your heart hammering against your chest. Each bob of your head brings waves of excitement and nausea to the surface, slurps of saliva and suction woven into your moans and hums.

Taking a deep breath in, you move down, Kirishima’s cock hitting the back of your throat. You retch, throat convulsing around it and sucking him in further, tugging at his balls. You try to keep yourself in place, dragging ragged breaths through your nose, tears beginning to form at your eyes.

There is a moan above you and a stutter of hips. Your head shoots up just in time to see Kirishima gazing down at you with squinted eyes before snapping them shut. You immediately pop off of him, wiping at the side of your mouth.

“Y/n w-what are you doing in here?” He swallows thickly, cheeks flushed. “Get out of my room, you shouldn’t be doing this.” He props himself up on his elbows, staring at you with creased brows

“Yo- you were awake.” Sticking your tongue against the side of your cheek, you study his face. He was panicking, but he hadn’t moved away from you. Your hand was still resting on his upper thigh. He could easily have pushed you away if he really wanted to.

“Y/n it’s wrong we can-”

“You didn’t seem to mind that earlier, when you pretended to be asleep while I was choking on your cock, Ejirou.” You climbed up his body, rubbing his shoulders. He grabs your wrists, yanking them away from his body.

“Y/n, we can’t do this,” frustration bubbles up inside of you. He was the one who had been teasing you all this time. Was he going to make it out that you were the perverted sister who came into the room to diddle him at night unprovoked? He just needed a little push. You’ve seen the way he reacts around you. He wants you just as badly as you want him.

“Eji please,” your lips form into a pout, head tilted to the side, eyes big and staring deep into his. You could feel a lump forming in your throat, panic bubbling up in your chest.

“Y/n I-” he hesitates, his grip loosening enough for you to snatch your arms out of his reach. You splay your hands over his chest, feeling his heart racing. He’s peering into your eyes, searching your face—wrestling with himself, unwilling to accept that he wanted this just as much as you did.

“Fuck me, or I’ll tell mom you touched me.” His eyes widened in horror, darting out from under you, clearly taken back with what you’re threatening.

“You wouldn’t.”

All you wanted was to finally know how well he could fill up your cunt. You would do anything to feel that.

“Fuck me, or I’ll tell mom about how you were moaning my name earli-” in a flash, you’re pushed back onto the bed, your hands held above your head. Kirishima’s thigh wedges between your legs.

"You really want your brother's cock that bad, huh?" There was a complete shift in his demeanor. Moments ago, he was quiet and hesitant, something you'd never seen from him. Kirishima was always talking, loud, and in everyone's face. His pupils were blown with desire, and his tongue dipped out of his mouth to lick his lips. He looked hungry.

“You’ve got everyone fooled. You know that? With that innocent little act, you put on.” He lowers his face to your neck, tongue running a line against your pulse point. The change in him was frightening, but it had your pussy clenching around nothing, anticipating his actions.

“You want this, yeah? So badly that you’ll come to suck me off while I’m asleep?” Kiri’s warm hand begins to scale down your body, pushing up your flimsy top and grabbing a fist full of your breast, kneading the flesh roughly. His other hand holds your wrists above your head. His breath tickles your ears, coaxing a whimper from within you. The cold air in the room caresses your naked cunt.

“Of course, you fucking do. You’re just as filthy and depraved as I am.” His sharp teeth pierce your shoulder, a gasp tearing its way from your throat. Kirishima’s tongue lolls out to swirl around the tender flesh while he sucks. Your eyes closed, memorizing every second moment. Each impassioned touch that danced across your body, every roll of his hips against your thigh.

“You know what I did? I held myself back all this time. But you can’t even show a little restraint?” His hand makes its way between your legs, pushing them apart, fingers swiping against your sensitive bundle of nerves. You can feel the blood beginning to bead out of the skin he broke, languidly dripping, making its way down your collarbone.

“What a fucking slut.” He pulls them up, drenched in your arousal. He stays there, unmoving, looking down at you while it runs slowly down each finger.

“You really did come in here to get fucked, huh?” His fingers prod at your mouth, parting your lips. He shoves two thick digits, rubbing them against your tongue and gagging the back of your throat. He pulls them out swiftly, making his way back down to your core. His lips latch onto yours, tasting you.

Without warning, he pushes them into you, your body flinching at the forced entry. He begins working his fingers in and out slowly, stretching your quivering hole. His palm grinding against your clit.

“Such a pretty girl.”

You force your lidded eyes open when you feel fabric in your mouth—two calloused fingers dipping forward, pushing in your lost panties. You bite down on it, looking up at him longingly.

“Hold those for me, yeah?” The squelching sounds of your pussy pulling him in while he stretches you out brings heat to your cheeks. There was no hiding how much your body desired him. Pushing himself from the mattress, he lines himself up with your entrance.

“What if I tell her that you were outside of my room touching your pretty little pussy, huh?” He drags his cock up and down your slit, covering it with your arousal.

“Tell her how you jerked me off under the dinner table when she was right there.” His empty threats still manage to send shocks through your body.

“Had I known you were this much of a slut. I would have done this sooner, all you had to do was ask.” He slowly sinks into you, a ragged growl rippling past his lips. He’d opened you up just enough to slip inside, the stretch painfully slow while your insides tried to accommodate him. The veins on the underside of his cock sliding against your sensitive flesh.

His hips roll against you, looking down at you to drink in your blissed-out face, before moving against you.

You could tell that he was rutting into you with only his release in mind. You were the one who came in wanting to make him feel good, and now you had to take responsibility with your body.

You arched your back, trying to meet each of his thrusts. The excitement floods your veins, your mind foggy, only focusing on your breaths colliding. How perfectly his body fit with yours, swallowing his thick cock in eagerly.

Your sweaty bodies are meshing as one. Kirishima’s hips are snapping against you relentlessly. Fingers digging into your waist, using your body to meet him with each thrust. The hollow of your belly begins to tighten, cunt squeezing him tightly, hooking your legs around his waist to bring him in even closer.

“Fuck, just like that.” Your skin is tender from the bites he littered all over your body. His finger dipping down to lightly rub at your clit, giving just enough pressure to hold you at the edge. He lets out a heavy thrust, holding still inside of you, finger pressing down. The coil snaps, your cunt spasming and a choked gasp escaping. The moment shatters around you, body milking him.

Kirishima cries out, the pressure of his load landing heavily inside of you. His body collapses on top of yours, sweaty forehead sticking to your shoulder. All that can be heard in the room are tired pants, the fabric in your mouth, sucking the saliva from your mouth. His cum is still flooding inside of your stretched out hole.

After a few moments, he pulls out of you, rolling off to the side. Cum beginning to seep out of your fluttering hole, contractions slowly withering away. You take the lace out of your mouth, throwing it off to the side.

“I’m not tired yet, Eijirou, I want more.” You shiver, turning to face him. Now that you didn’t want to stop until your body was aching and unable to move.

“C’ mere then,” Kirishima pulls you close, planting a soft kiss to your slick forehead. His fingers dance along your skin, breathing in your scent.

“Don’t worry, Y/n I’m not done with you yet,” he breathes against you, peppering kisses against your swollen lips.

“After all, we have the weekend alone.”

—

kinktober masterlist

tags <3 : @linestrider @thirsthourdemon @tomurasprincess @katsukis-sad-angel @zyrielwolf @dabis-kitten

#kirishima x reader smut #tw:incest #tw dubcon #tw somno #kirishima smut

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honklore · 3 years

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landslide | karl jacobs

(kindergarten teacher!karl, single mom!reader, oh no karl’s apartment gets flooded so he has to stay at his best friend from high school’s house who also happens to be the mother of his favorite student, karl just being soft and sweet and a great friend, um talk about the baby daddy being a loser essentially, the beast team is there playing the role of karl’s friends from school, graham is the sweetest child, slight angst, fluff, friends to lovers, SOFT KARL, warmth, comfort, romance coded but very light)

listen to: landslide by fleetwood mac, never grow up by taylor swift, growing up by river run north, rainbow by kacey musgraves

Karl helps one of his kids press their palms onto the wall. When they release their palm, pink paint remains, making a sort of leaf to the tree branches painted onto the wall.

“Now write your name,” Karl advises another kid, whose orange paint had already dried.

“G-R-A-H-A-M,” the boy writes out with a large permanent marker. “Can I take a picture? For my mom?”

All the rest of the children begin to shout their agreements, also wanting to bring home a picture for their parents. Karl grabs his yellow Polaroid camera and takes a picture of each handprint.

He keeps all of the pictures in the chest pocket of his denim jacket. “Okay, guys— to the sink! Whoever has the cleanest hands gets to help me pass out snacks!”

“Why are we having snack time so early?” It’s Graham that asks, the little one always eager to be around Karl.

Karl ignores the boy’s paint covered hands poking at his clean jacket, and answers him as politely as he can. “Mr. Jacobs forgot his lesson plans today, so we’re going to watch a movie instead.”

“A movie?” Graham’s eyes widen.

“Yep,” Karl giggles. He crouches down to Graham’s level and whispers, “You wanna pick it?”

“Nature Nut!” Graham cheers almost immediately, causing Karl to wince.

Ah, yes, the wonderful little DVDs of a lonesome man teaching the watcher about bugs and weird types of slugs. Karl actually has the entire collection, and Graham happens to adore them just as much as Karl did when he was a kid.

“Alright, go wash your hands and I’ll get it started.”

It’s a little girl named Hana who cleans her hands the best, so she passes out organic fruit gummies to everyone while Karl puts in the DVD.

While they watch the video, Karl checks his text messages.

There’s one from Chris: “I’ve already got Chandler on the couch. Sorry, man. You can have the floor, but it’s not gonna be comfy :(“

Right. Karl forgot that Chandler lives in the same complex as him. His apartment is probably just as flooded as Karl’s is. Now if the landlord would just answer his calls and help him... maybe this situation wouldn’t be so stressful.

Karl didn’t forget his lesson plans; they’re just submerged in his bedroom with everything else Karl has left lying on his carpet. And maybe it’s his fault for not buying more storage bins, but a studio apartment can only hold so much stuff.

Serves Karl right for doing his lesson plans at home instead of at the school like most of his fellow kindergarten teachers.

He lets out a quiet sigh, careful not to disturb the children. He only has a short list of friends left to ask, and while he doesn’t think they’ll mind him asking, he really hates to put anyone in that position.

Besides, most of his friends have roommates or significant others and Karl doesn’t want to ruin their routine. He’d hate to intrude. And he could always sleep in his car for a few days, but the amount of stuff he had to pack because of the flooding has barred any chance of a good night’s sleep.

The video ends, and Karl gets the kids seated with coloring pages until their parents arrive.

One by one, he I.Ds the parents and tells the kids goodbye, helping them put on their coats and take home whatever library book they picked out earlier.

Finally, there’s only one kid left, and Karl is a bit embarrassed of his hyper-awareness to Graham. It’s not even his fault, really. Graham just has a beautiful mom, who happens to be Karl’s beautiful friend, and sometimes Karl gets eager to see you during pickup time.

Whatever. It’s no big deal.

The kindergartener already has his coat on. His curly brown hair is almost unruly as he continues to work on his coloring sheet.

Karl pulls at the hem of his sage sweater sleeves and wonders if his hair looks okay. Maybe he should invest in a little desk mirror; or maybe that’s vain.

“Hey, Karl! Sorry I’m late!” You rush in, holding on to your leather messenger bag. You fix your glasses before they fall off the bridge of your nose, and Karl is so focused on the movement that he almost forgets about your child.

Until said child is scolding his mother. “Mom! You have to call him Mr. Jacobs! It’s rude to call him Karl!”

“Your mom is an adult,” Karl reminds Graham (as soon as he finds his voice.) “Since she isn’t a student, it’s okay for her to call me Karl.”

Graham pinches his lips together, and then shrugs. “Fine. Mom, we watched Nature Nut today.” He runs up to you and wraps his arm around your middle. “Can we go to the park and look for slugs?”

“Sure,” you giggle. “But we need to get home soon, okay, Bud? I have to make dinner and then we have to clean up the mess we made last night.”

Graham turns to Karl and smiles naughtily, like the trickster he often is. “Mom said I could tear up her papers last night. She said it’s There-pee.”

“Ther-a-py,” you emphasize for the five-year-old.

Karl studies your face, and he can tell that you seem a little more stressed than usual. “Therapy, huh?”

You smile sheepishly. “Well, when your son catches you tearing up old love notes, you have to let him in on the fun, right?”

“You are a team,” Karl acknowledges. He wants to ask more; wants to dig into your heart and extract whatever is hurting you, but your son is standing between the two of you, waiting for him to say goodbye. Karl clears his throat and picks at his sweater again. “Anyways, uh, text me tonight? Let me know you two got home safe. And, I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” you breathe. You smile at him and then take Graham’s hand. “Thanks, Karl. I’ll text you.”

Karl spends the night at a motel down the road. He texts a few of his friends and hopes for good news in the morning, or at least a confirmation from his landlord.

When you text him, a little selfie of you and Graham, holding up what looks like microwaved s’mores, his heart grows fond, and he forgets about his own problems for a moment.

Life has never been very easy for you. From the get-go, you have always been destined to fail, growing up with an absent father and an overworked mother. With a dead-end dream like yours (writing, of all things), it’s no wonder you clung to what little breaths of freedom you had.

He was handsome and bold, with a carefree smile and brown eyes that mirrored the sun. The lead singer of a band, with a voice like chimes. And you fell just as hard as one of your many protagonists. Perhaps the mistake always lay in the fact that you put too much fantasy into reality. You have always romanticized the littlest things, and that comes back to bite you more often than not.

You never expected one: to get pregnant your senior year of high school, and two: have to go through it alone.

Of course, most people you come to love leave eventually. It’s something you have always remembered; something that sticks in the back of your brain like gum to the bottom of your child’s Spider-man skechers.

Graham is the only constant in your life. Though you’ve been blessed with a decent job editing for a webazine company, and you can work from home more often than not, Graham is the real thing that keeps you alive.

He’s the most precious boy, with brown curls and big brown eyes. He favors his father, and though that should deter you, it reminds you of innocent days, and it gives a new meaning to brown eyes. Graham is not his father, and he never was.

Graham certainly got his love of learning from you. Though he likes science more than writing, you adore how eager he is to always get to school. It helps that Karl is his teacher.

Karl’s been your friend since freshman year of highschool, when the two of you both took the same creative writing class the local university offered. Though the two of you had differing end goals, you often studied together and encouraged each other. He was there when you found out you were pregnant, and he was there when you found out you’d be raising your child alone.

Now life comes full circle, and you see him twice a day. You could go out on a limb and say he brightens up most mornings, but you would still give that slot to your son.

Karl is standing at the doorway now, greeting all of his students and helping them take off their book bags and coats. He’s wearing monochrome today: red pants, a red sweater, and red shoes.

Graham lights up almost immediately, and you are thankful today that you decided to dress Graham in his red t-shirt. “Mom! We match!”

“I know,” you grin, squeezing his hand.

Karl glances at Graham, and then you. His cheeks showcase that same pink hue they always do, and while it should clash with his red garments, it doesn’t. “Hey, Karl.”

“Hey,” he grins, cheeks full at the sight of you two.

Graham spreads his arms and waits for Karl to help him take off his jacket. “Do you see that we match, Mr. Jacobs?”

“Yo, that’s awesome, Little Man!” Karl gives Graham a fist bump that seems to appease him, and you wait for Graham to run to his friends before addressing Karl.

“How have you been?”

Karl sighs. He brushes his hair away from his eyes. “Okay. My- uh- my studio apartment flooded so I’m staying at a motel until my landlord can get me estimates on when I can come back home.”

“That sucks,” you frown. “You know, if you need a place to stay, I have a pullout couch in my office. And obviously, Graham wouldn’t mind.”

Karl pales. “Are you serious? I didn’t mean to suggest anything, Like I know you work from home and you need your office.”

“And you’ll be at school until three,” you say. “I’ll work then. C’mon, Karl. I don’t like knowing one of my friends has no place to stay.”

Karl bites his bottom lip and scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll drive over after I check out of the motel.”

“Great!” You smile. “I’ll order pizza.”

"Graham, clean your room," you say, struggling to push your desk against your office wall. "We're going to have a guest for a few weeks."

"Mom," Graham whines, "They aren't going to look in my room."

You begin to take the cushions out of the spare couch to start setting up the pull-out bed. "Mr. Jacobs is coming over, Graham. Don't you want to show him your collections?"

Graham's brown eyes grow wide. "Mr. Jacobs? You didn't tell me he was coming!"

"He's going to be staying with us for a little bit, okay? So I need you to be on your best behavior."

“Can I show him my worms?” Graham asks, alluding to the compost bin in the small backyard of your townhouse.

“Yes,” you say, thankful that he isn’t putting up much of a fight toward cleaning. You’re also thankful he isn’t asking any questions, as Graham always seems to have a few at the top of his tongue.

Graham cleans up his room quickly. You know for a fact that he’s just shoved all of his toys under his bed, but it’s enough until the weekend, when you’ll have more time to help him organize.

The little guy hoards rocks like no one’s business. You curse the day Karl decided to teach the kids about geodes.

“Wanna help me make up Mr. Jacobs’s room?” You half-yell, while grabbing spare bedding out of your linen closet.

Graham’s little footsteps are head before he answers, and soon he’s at your hip with a quick, “He can have my Frozen pillowcase!”

You hesitate to tell Graham that his Frozen pillowcase is currently on one of your pillows, but just you can’t give your guest a dirty pillowcase. “That one is in the wash, Buddy. Why don’t we give him your Spider-Man one?”

“So he matches my pajamas!” Graham is easily pleased, and he even takes one of his stuffed bears to add to Karl’s made-up bed. (“So he doesn’t get scared at night.”)

By the time the pizza arrives, Karl is just behind, so you keep Graham busy with a slice of cheese and a glass of diet pepsi (only half of a can, and only because it’s a special occasion) while the two of you bring in Karl’s stuff.

He surprisingly didn’t bring much, and when you ask about it, he grimaces. “My studio is pretty small so a lot of my stuff was on the ground and got mildewed. Other stuff was in bins so I just left it there. I only need clothes and my lesson plans, anyway.”

“Well, here’s the desk and bed. It’s not much, but there’s a lock on the door in case Graham ever gets too inquisitive — bless him — and curtains so the stupidly bright sun won’t wake you too early.”

“Those both sound like personal experiences, Y/n,” Karl teases. He takes off his jacket and throws it on the bed. “Yo! Spider-Man?”

“Graham picked it out,” you say. “He also relinquished one of his bears to keep you safe in the middle of the night. His words, not mine.”

“He’s so cute,” Karl mentions offhandedly. The fondness in his tone takes you back a bit. Not because the phrase isn’t true, it’s just that most people find your son annoying before they find him endearing. The change of tone is nice.

“He is,” you say. “And he’s dying to show you his room after we eat dinner.”

Karl gives you that same lopsided smile he often had in high school. Part of your brain shifts to his personal life, and you wonder why Karl himself isn’t in a romantic relationship. Not that he has to be, but the both of you are getting older, and Karl has always been one to express a fondness for having his own family one day. Maybe he just hasn’t found the right person.

It isn’t until Graham is peacefully in bed — after a very chaotic reading of Goodnight Moon by yours truly, and an argument that Mr. Jacobs cannot, in fact, sleep in the same room as him — that you actually have a chance to show Karl around the house.

“Here’s the guest bathroom. Graham almost always uses the bathroom in my room because he likes looking at the big tub. He will beg you to play with him, but if you’re busy don’t feel guilty telling him no. He knows what no means and he’s good about playing by himself.”

Karl giggles. “Okay. I don’t mind playing with him, though.“

You show him around the kitchen, where you left little spaces for him in the pantry. You show him the garbage bags and the T.V. settings and the list of compostable ingredients. “And also, please come and go as you please. Like, I completely understand that you’re here temporarily and you aren’t a babysitter or anything like that. I don’t expect you to be in charge of Graham any time outside of school.”

Karl blinks. “But if you ever need time away, you can ask me. I don’t mind babysitting.”

“I know,” you smile. “But Graham is my kid. I don’t need time away from him.”

You’re lying. Karl knows it. You’ve been in this single parenting thing for five years and you aren’t about to reach out for help now.

“Anyways, if you have any questions just ring me or ask me,” you say. “I’ve got to get to bed. Goodnight.”

“Thanks, Y/n.”

Karl thinks it’s sweet the way Graham insists on making his own breakfast.

You’re already up when Karl gets out of his (temporary) bedroom with his clothes tucked under his arm. You’re busy arguing with Graham. “You can’t fry your own omelette for the last time.”

Karl quirks an eyebrow at your exasperated face. You look stressed beyond belief, even though the day has just begun.

Karl tosses his clothes back in his room and walks into the kitchen. “Hey, Graham! Do you want to show me your rock collection?”

Graham spins on his sock-clad heels, eyes bright at the thought of seeing his teacher. “Mr. Jacobs! Yes! Let’s go!”

He grabs Karl’s hand with ease, leaving you room to finish making breakfast.

Graham’s room is fairly simple. The small wooden bed is covered in a green quilt, and beneath that, frozen-printed sheets that certainly don’t match. He has a tub of stuffed animals shoved against a small dresser.

Karl gets distracted by the framed picture on top of the dresser. It’s a picture of you and Graham’s father, a few months before you got pregnant. He’s smiling, and you’re holding up a peace sign. It makes Karl feel a bit sad, knowing that Graham’s dad never stayed around to see how wonderful he turned out to be.

Then again, a lot of people in your life left as soon as they found out. In high school, no one wants to be friends with a teenage mother.

Karl reckons that if he had a family like this, he’d never take them for granted.

Graham pulls out a gemstone. It’s a murky green one that Karl has let him take home from class. “Do you remember this, Mr. Jacobs?”

Karl grins. “Yeah, bud. Thanks for keeping it so safe for me.”

Graham beams. He grabs Karl’s hand and pulls him towards his dresser. “Can we match? I want to look like you.”

Karl feels his heart swell. He wants to smother the young boy in affection, but he doesn’t want to cross a line. He’s your friend, sure, but he’s also Graham’s teacher. He can’t coddle Graham more than the other children. He already has a godchild to coddle. “I’m wearing yellow today. Do you have any yellow clothes?”

“Let’s look!” Graham yanks open one of the drawers and begins pulling out the articles of clothing one by one. “No, no, no... Here!” He finds a pair of yellow overalls, folded amongst the mess he made. “I’ll wear these!”

“Let’s clean up first, okay?” Karl grabs the overalls. “So it’s clean when you come home from school.”

Graham, looking like the last thing he’d ever want to do is disappoint Karl, begins to pick up each shirt with obvious intent. He tries to fold them, and does a somewhat decent job, so much so that Karl leaves it, thinking you’ll find it endearing rather than annoying.

He really loves that about you. He likes your patience with Graham. You’re so young, and in reality, he squashed so many early dreams of yours. No matter your lot in life, you never blamed your child. Karl thinks that’s why Graham is so open, so adaptable, so endearing.

He helps Graham get dressed and leaves him in his room so that he, himself, can get ready.

When he emerges from his shower, hair wet and clothed in yellow, he smells something amazing.

He doesn’t want to intrude on your morning with Graham. He already feels too indebted to you already.

“Have an omelet,” you say. Wisps of hair cover your face. You place a plate down in front of him.

Graham is already eating his omelet, slowly, while flipping through a picture book. He sounds out words he recognizes, but stays silent the rest of the time.

Karl takes out his phone and scrolls through his instagram feed just as your own phone begins to ring.

“Shit,” you curse, and then immediately apologize to Graham. You press the red button and tap anxiously on the tabletop.

“Everything okay?” Karl asks.

You run your hands over your hair and let them rest on the back of your neck. “Yeah is just—“

The phone rings again, and this time you pick it up. “What do you want? ... Why would you tell me that? ... Why should I care? ... Please stop contacting me, okay? Goodbye.”

You slam the phone down and leave the room. Karl watches you disappear down the hallway, sniffling.

“Mommy is upset,” Graham says. He looks at Karl, lip quivering. “At me?”

“No, Buddy! Of course not!” Karl reaches over the table to ruffle Graham’s curls. “Never at you.”

“When we tore up paper, she was crying.” Graham fiddles with his book page.

Karl wonders why your ex’s actions are being brought up five years later. Last he heard, you had fully healed from the breakup long before Graham’s first birthday. But now he’s about to be six, and you're suddenly upset?

He’ll have to ask you about it soon.

“Are you ready to go to school, Buddy?”

“Yeah!”

You cradle your face in your hands and try to ease the tears back in. You’ll never get this article proofread and sent if you can’t see the keys.

The door opens, and Graham runs in just in time for you to finish wiping your eyes. “Hey, kiddo! How was school?”

“Mr. Jacobs let us finger paint!” Graham holds up his palm, covered in dried paint, and grins brightly. “Can I have gogurt?”

“Yeah bud. Why don’t you put something on the T.V.? You can have your snack in the living room today.”

“Yes!” Graham takes blueberry gogurt out of the fridge and — after getting you to tear it open — runs into the living room. Sneakers and backpack still on.

Karl trails behind, clutching a messenger bag to his chest. “What’s going on?”

You sigh and close the laptop. The manuscript will have to wait. “Ben called. About a week ago. His girlfriend is pregnant. Called me to tell me he wasn’t going to leave her— like that would heal what he did to me. Then he called this morning to tell me they’re engaged.” You burst into tears then, and you feel so pathetic for doing this in front of your old schoolmate, that you hide your face behind your palms and allow your shoulders to shake. “Why weren’t we enough? Why wasn’t I enough?”

Karl scoots one of the chairs in front of you and sits, leaning his elbows on his knees. “Hey. Look at me.” With gentle hands, he grabs your wrists and pulls them away from your face. “It is not your fault he left.”

“But it has to be me in some way,” you retort. “He must not have loved me. Something, because now he’s going to raise her child after he left mine. Graham deserves a dad.”

Karl places his forehead against yours. The two of you used to do it all the time in school, mostly with immature giggles in the spaces between, but now it’s heavy with intention. “Graham has not felt even a little bit unloved in your care. You are all he needs, okay? You’re amazing.”

You nod, head still pressed to Karl’s. “Yeah. Okay. Sorry for getting too emotional, there.”

“Be as emotional as you want,” Karl says. “I’ll be here to balance you out.”

Your heart stutters at the words, like maybe they mean something more than he’s letting on. Of course it’s stupid to think Karl Jacobs would ever even consider you, but just the knowledge that he cares makes your soul feel a little lighter.

“I’m a mess,” you stutter, bringing your fist up to wipe at your nose.

“Nah,” Karl grins. He runs the pad of his thumb across your cheek and grins. “You’re alright.”

“It’s snowing!” Graham wakes Karl up by jumping on his chest.

Karl sucks in a breath, winded at the sudden weight, and grabs the boy, lifting him off of his chest and onto the mattress. “Hey, Buddy. Let’s not jump on sleeping people, okay?”

“Okay,” Graham says. He’s already lost interest in Karl, now crawling off of the bed to open the blinds. “Come look at the snow!”

“I see!” Karl rubs his tired eyes and checks his watch. “We might have a snow day, Graham.”

“Yes!” Graham pumps his fist into the air. “Let’s go tell mom!”

You’re sitting on your bed, chewing on a red licorice rope and flipping through a fashion magazine. You look up when Karl and Graham enter.

Karl likes seeing you like this: the domesticity of seeing you in the morning, lazy and true. His chest sparks when he thinks this may be one of the only moments he can capture you like this, so he intends to commit the sight to memory.

“Did I hear snow day?” You grin at Karl, childlike wit in your own eyes — the same as your son’s.

“Looks like it.” Karl rolls up the sleeves of the sweater he slept in. “You want pancakes? I make some mean chocolate chip pancakes.”

You shift your gaze away from his arms and clear your throat. “Uh, yeah. Just let me get dressed and I’ll help—“

“No need,” Karl insists. “Enjoy your quiet time. Graham and I will make the most delicious pancakes you’ve ever tasted.”

“With lots of chocolate chips!” Graham shouts.

You give him a pointed look. “But not too many.”

Graham huffs. “But not too many,” he repeats.

Momentary splashes sound from your bathroom, followed by Graham screaming “It’s a dragon! Run for cover!”

Karl giggles from his place on the couch. He’s got mushroom-patterned socks on, and he’s tucked up into the cushions, nursing a can of Monster. “How does he still have so much energy?”

You sigh and pull your beanie down over your forehead. “You’d think a snow day would tire him out. Thanks for constantly carrying him up the hill, by the way. I know you’re a teacher, but sometimes I forget how good you are with kids.”

“I do have a godson,” Karl reminds you.

“But Tucker is a baby,” you say. You only know the baby’s name because of Karl’s constant snap stories about him.

“Most babies and kids want the same thing. Affection and attention.” Karl scoots over to the edge of the couch and pats the cushion.

You sit next to him. “I guess that’s true. You’re really good with Graham. He’s not this open to other adults.”

Karl is clearly blushing now; you can see his pink cheeks even in the light of the television. “He’s great in class, always helping the other kids.”

“He wants to impress you,” you say. You pop open a can of orange soda and take a sip. “He thinks you’re just the coolest guy.”

Karl laughs and shakes his head. “Didn’t you hear, Y/n? I’m handsome and cool.”

“Oh, of course,” you nudge his shin with our own sock-clad foot. “How could I forget? Mr. Ladies Man in high school.”

This makes Karl blush even harder, because he most certainly was not a ladies man in high school. In fact, he was a nerd in all senses of the word, part of the debate club with a few other boys. He had a few dates here and there, but nothing ever stuck.

“Shut up,” he mumbles. “My time is gonna come.”

“Hasn’t it already?” you ask before you can really process your own words. But of course he knows that he’s grown into his face, right?

Karl is positively handsome, eyes bright and lashes long. He’s so warm and comforting to you. He must be just as comforting to everyone else.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re handsome, Karl,” you say plainly.

“You mean that?”

“Of course I do,” you say. “Why would I lie?”

Karl opens his mouth, perhaps to call you out. To tell you you’ve been too honest, but he’s interrupted by your son.

“Mom! I’m ready to get out now!”

“I should go,” you say, still looking at his eyes.

“Yeah,” he says. His sweater has small spots on the shoulders where snow has fallen and since melted. He shivers.

“You should take a shower. You’ll catch a cold.”

“Okay,” he whispers. “Yeah, I’ll do that.”

Chandler comes over the following Saturday night to hang out with Karl, and you’re surprised at how much he truly hasn’t changed since high school.

He’s still got infamously perfect eyebrows, and his voice is still monotonous despite its humor. “Nice place.” He raises his brows as he looks around.

“Who are you?” Graham is sitting at the kitchen table, watching Minecraft playthroughs (kid-friendly ones you’ve watched through yourself) on your phone to entertain himself while you clean.

“I’m Chandler, Karl’s friend.”

“This is Mr. Jacob’s friend from school,” you say, detailing your words so they’re easier for your son to digest.

Graham stares at him for a moment, not quite judging but not quite accepting either. “Okay. Do you want to see my rock collection?”

Chandler looks genuinely excited, and accepts before you can come up with an excuse for him. Graham tells Chandler to stay in the kitchen while he grabs all of his rocks.

“How have you been?” you ask the taller man. “Like, with the flooding and everything?”

“Well, I’m on a couch at Chris’, which is good since he doesn’t charge rent. But that means I’m near Tucker, and that baby has some lungs.”

You laugh. “I remember when Graham was a baby. I was so young, and my mom told me it was my responsibility to wake up and take care of him whenever he cried in the middle of the night. I was so pissed at her for making me do that, but those were some of the best nights to bond with him.” You realize you’re ranting and shake your head. “Whatever. Baby screams are loud as hell.”

“You can say that again. I’ve been talking to my friend Jimmy about taking his spare room and paying rent. I dunno how many more sleepless nights I can take.”

“Why would you need to pay rent if you’re just crashing?” You wipe down the kitchen table to keep yourself busy.

“Didn’t Karl tell you? Our landlord is in heaps of trouble because the pipes weren’t up to code and that’s why they busted. The damage is basically too expensive to fix, so we’ve got to find new places.”

You stop cleaning. “Karl didn’t tell me that.”

“Oh.” Chandler scratches his brow. “He probably didn’t want to worry you. He feels really bad that he’s stayed with you this long.”

“It’s only been a month or so,” you counter. “Besides, Karl’s a great housemate. He cleans and keeps Graham occupied. Plus, now I have someone to watch corny game shows with.”

Chandler grins. “Oh. Okay, I get it.”

“Get what?” Karl, finally out of the shower, steps into the kitchen and immediately tackles Chandler in an energized hug.

“Nothing!” Chandler’s voice cracks

You shoot Chandler a weird look, and change the subject. “Where are you guys going?”

“To play video games at Jimmy’s.” Karl says, and the thrill in his voice makes you think of high school. Of the debate team bus rounding the corner. Of you standing there, waiting to congratulate him with a big hug and a frosty from Wendy’s.

You miss it. “Have fun, okay? I’m probably going to tuck in as soon as Graham does, so just let yourself in.”

“You’re leaving?” Graham comes in, and his arms are filled with smooth and rough stones and gems he’s both found by himself and bought at random general stores while traveling.

“Not before I see your rocks!” Chandler says with so much enthusiasm, you think he’s telling the truth.

Graham giggles and drops the rocks onto the ground. Of course, he wants your guest to sit on the floor and count rocks. You’re almost embarrassed.

“ ‘ Okay, Y/n?” Karl laughs at your expression. Then he places his arm on your shoulder, thumbs the skin of your upper arm.

And once again, it’s high school. It’s senior year graduation and Karl is the only one who congratulates you. It’s his comforting touch, him coming over in the middle of the night after you texted him a picture of your first sonogram. It’s that same comforting touch. That little “I’m here,” and it melts you on the inside, leaves you in a shell of an eighteen girl again. Scared, and worried, and a little less alone.

“Yeah,” you manage. “I’m okay.”

The television plays Cartoon Network reruns on a low hum. Karl is curled up in a blanket, nursing a bottle of water and thinking over Chandler’s words.

You’ve liked her since high school, dude.

Which is a complete lie. Seriously, Karl didn’t have a crush on you in high school. He would know if he had a crush on his best friend. You’ve been his friend since freshman year, and that’s all you’ve ever been.

Now in college, it was different. In college, Karl was alone in a dorm with Chris, and you were one of the only people from high school he stayed in contact with. In college, he would bring you your favorite snacks and drinks, and other things you would forget to buy because you were a part-time student and a full-time mom. In college, you would pull all-nighters with him, working on your exams while Graham was asleep, then using energy drinks to get through the next day.

Karl even remembers the time your mom caught the three of you fast asleep on your rug, with unopened monster cans and an empty milk bottle beside you.

Throughout your entire pregnancy he was warned not to stay friends with the pregnant girl — it’d be too much for him, he wouldn’t want to become the new father, and all kinds of other stuff people would mumble to him when you weren’t around.

But you never expected him to be anything other than your friend. You never asked him for the help he gave — though you thanked him always — and you never once assumed he’d take the role of Graham’s dad.

And now… now he finds himself wishing you would.

“Mr. Jacobs?” Graham creeps up without him even realizing.

Karl jumps, sets his water — and thoughts — aside. “Hey, Bud. It’s really late. What are you doing up?”

Graham sniffs, and Karl realizes that the boy is crying. “I had a nightmare.”

Karl holds out his arms before he can think, and lets the five-year-old crawl into his lap. He wraps them both in his blanket and turns the television up just a little more. “Was it scary?”

“You left.” Graham says, voice less watery, like he doesn’t know the weight of his words. He’s focused on the rerun of Adventure Time that’s playing. He’s not even remotely interested in his nightmare now, with his tears dried up, and his eyes drooping back towards slumber.

“I’m going to leave one day,” Karl says, because he thinks it’s important that Graham knows.

“You should stay with me and Mom,” Graham says. He yawns. “We like you so much!”

Karl’s heart stutters. He tries not to think about it.

When Graham’s bed is empty the next morning, you freak out. He’s always in his room in the morning. Even if he wakes up before you, he stays in and plays with his toys.

You’ve already got your phone out, and your mother’s number called, when you walk into the living room.

Relief floods your system. Karl and Graham are asleep on the couch, snuggled up serenely like they didn’t just cause you to have a premature heart attack.

You hang up before the call to your mom can go through and stand there, watching the two boys sleep. Graham has both his arms wrapped around Karl’s forearm. It’s such a sweet picture that you take out your phone and snap one.

The flash is on.

Karl scrunches his nose and winces. “What the–”

“Sorry!” You whisper. “You both looked so cute, I couldn’t help it.”

Karl smiles, still sleepy, and finally opens his eyes. He peers at you, stormy green under fluttering lashes and you’re almost intimidated into looking away. “He had a nightmare.”

“Oh?”

“About me leaving.”

“Oh.” You frown. “I’m really sorry about that. I keep telling him that you’re moving out soon, but I don’t think he fully understands.”

Graham stirs. You reach down and pick him up. Your knuckles brush across Karl’s warm, sweater-clad chest and you suddenly wish you could cuddle with him, too. You shake the thoughts away and focus on your drowsy son. “You’re staying at Grandma's for a few days, remember?”

Graham rubs his eyes and perks up. “And I’ll see her cat?”

“Yes,” you confirm. “But we’ve got to get you dressed because she’s coming in a few minutes.”

“Karl Jacobs!” Your mom’s voice embarrassingly rings through the apartment, and you realize Karl has taken it upon himself to open the door. “Y/n told me she had a temporary roommate but I never thought she would finally ask you!”

“Oh my gosh…” you mumble, buckling Graham’s overalls and hauling him up into your arms. “Mom! His apartment flooded so he’s staying here. Don’t be weird about it.”

“But he’s so handsome,” your mom coos. You’re concerned she might reach forward and pinch Karl’s already ruddy cheeks.

“Thanks,” Karl laughs. “But she’s right, I’m just squatting until I can find a new place.”

Your mom harrumphs. “Well, I don’t see why you can’t stay here forever. Y/n doesn’t even use that office room. And even if she did, the two of you could just share a room.”

“Mom!” You plunk Graham into her hands and grab his overnight bag. “You have to leave.”

“Did I say something wrong?” She sounds worried, but there’s an undisclosed mirth in her eyes that makes you think of your freshman year, when you did have a crush on Karl.

“You said everything wrong,” you say, kindly pushing her out. “Have a good time, Graham. I love you! As always, Mom, call if you need me to come get him.”

“Yeah, right!” She yells over her shoulder. Graham is already giggling, so you close the door with confidence.

You turn back to your roommate. “I’m sorry about that, Karl.”

“It’s fine.” He smiles, but it’s reserved. “But speaking of me finding a place… I know Chandler told you that I can’t go back to my own apartment. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“It’s okay,” you say. You want to say “You can stay here as long as you want, and long as you’ll let me keep you,” but that would reveal too much, and you don’t want to lose the one good friend you have.

“And I was thinking I should move out soon anyway.” Karl pulls his sweater sleeves until they cover his hands. He’s hiding. He’s shielding himself the same way he did in junior year, when he got turned down by his crush to go to the prom. “I don’t think it’s good for Graham to get this attached to me if I’m just going to leave.”

“Oh,” Your sleeves are too short, but you want to shield yourself too. “Yeah, that’s… that’s probably a good idea.”

Karl stands there for a beat, like he’s waiting for you to say something more. Like he hasn’t just taken your heart and pushed it aside. Like this hurts a lot less than it actually does.

But any word out of your mouth would be tearful. It would be honest. It would ruin everything. “I’m going to go on a run.”

There’s a cricket outside that won’t stop chirping against your window. You blame it for your insomnia, choosing to ignore the anxiety of eventually losing Karl. It feels so horribly childish, since you’ll see him when you drop Graham off at school. And you’ll see him whenever the two of you go out for coffee on weekends.

But you won’t see him in the kitchen, reaching for the pancake mix so his shirt rises up and you can see the dimples in his back. You won’t see him humming along to the radio while he works on his lesson plans. You won’t feel his warmth when the two of you stay awake, nursing spiked lemonade and giggling at the commentary videos you find on YouTube.

He’ll just be Karl again. He won’t be home anymore.

Startled by the realization, you get out of your covers and rush to your door.

It opens before you can even reach for the doorknob, and there’s Karl in his pajamas, biting his lip and avoiding your eyes.

“I don’t want you to leave,” you say, just as Karl confesses,

“I love you.”

You open your arms and he dives in, face pressed into the space where your neck meets your shoulder. Warmth envelopes you and the scent of pine fills your nose.

Karl is timeless. Youthful glory and childish pride. He’s a pinch on the side and a push on the swings. Like a rock that actually skips on the first try. Like shoes that you can slip on when they’re still tied. And he’s here, in your arms, squeezing you like you’re something valuable enough to lose. He’s confessing love like you aren’t the worst possible candidate for his heart.

“I can’t offer you much,” you start, but Karl bumps his forehead against yours, boyish and playful — football fields and bright red lockers and secret notes on bathroom walls.

“I’ve known you for years, Y/n,” Karl’s voice is a low rumble. Green grass eyes blinking at you like you’re something to second glance at. “I know what I’m getting into. I want you. I want Graham. I want everything this is, and everything we’ve been for the past month. I don’t want this to end.”

You close your eyes, because his are too honest. He’s open and vulnerable and gentle — a child on the first day of school, ready to make friends. You take a deep breath, try to remember what you were like on your first day. Rosy cheeks and shy glances. Knobby knees and a trusting heart. You reach out for whoever you once were — the Y/n with a heart open and willing to be loved. “I don’t want this to end either. I’m in love with you, Karl.”

His grin lights up your world in its entirety. Gold flecks in emerald green disappear as he smiles, too thrilled to keep his eyes open. And when he kisses you, warm lips against cold ones, you feel like a puzzle has just slotted into place.

It would only make sense that you would grow to love the boy you grew up with.

#karl jacobs fluff #karl jacobs x reader #karl jacobs fanfic #mcyt x reader #mcyt fanfiction #mcyt fluff #pixiecap//

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kythed · 3 years

Text

“teenage wasteland.” kuroo tetsurou x reader

4:08pm.

“yo,” kuroo says, opening the door quickly after you ring the bell, “you finally made it.”

“what do you mean, finally?” you complain, kicking off your shoes and slipping inside. the dry heat of his family home’s living room assaults your bare face, a sharp contrast to the december frigidity outside. “you texted me like ten minutes ago.”

“felt like longer,” kuroo says with a crooked grin. “you want something to drink?”

“water?”

“I kinda meant something stronger, but sure, water,” kuroo says, filling a glass at the kitchen sink. you furrow your brows.

“something stronger? I’m sorry, but last time I checked we were still underage,” you say, and kuroo laughs breathily — it’s almost a giggle, actually. for the first time since arriving, you notice an odd flush in his cheeks. “oh my god. are you drunk?”

“drunk?” kuroo gasps. “no, no. tipsy, yes. drunk, no.”

“tetsurou,” you scold, reluctantly letting him pull you towards the hallway. “all those big, bad college boys can’t have been a very good influence on you.”

“I’ve had a stash of jack daniels hidden beneath my bed since sophomore year,” kuroo whispers conspiratorially. “those ‘big, bad college boys’ have nothing to do with it. speaking of which — you want some?”

you shake your head vehemently and dig your heels into the carpet, realizing he’s trying to drag you into his bedroom. despite being kuroo tetsurou’s official best friend of a decade, you’ve never been inside his room before. you’ve never been inside any boy’s room before, actually — you’ve never been much of a rule breaker.

(you suppose that’s why you and kuroo get along. you’re forever the straight-laced goody goody, and he’s forever the secretly bad, outwardly good honor roll kid.)

“I don’t drink,” you insist, and kuroo loops his arms around your neck. you stiffen. “and stop being so touchy. it’s freaking me out.”

“what?” kuroo says, feigning offense. “you don’t like my hugs?”

“no!” you say, and he shoots you an exaggerated eye roll. “you’re being weird. I can probably count the number of times you’ve voluntarily hugged me on one hand.”

kuroo ignores you, choosing to instead pick you up and toss you over his shoulder in a fireman’s hold.

“kuroo tetsurou, you’d better quit it before I call your mother!” you pound on his back, a little taken aback to feel his shoulder muscles rippling under your palms as he staunchly marches you into his room. “I do not want to enter your disgusting cave of a room, you teenage garbage troll!”

“getting real creative with the insults there,” kuroo laughs, setting you down and backing up against the door to block you from running out. “come onnnnn. I thought we could play a game of monopoly or something. listen to the radio. finish the bottle before my mom comes home and whips my hide.”

you sigh and perch your hands on your hips. “so that’s why you invited me over.”

“no, no,” kuroo protests, crouching to pull a clear bottle of amber colored liquid out from beneath his bed. “I also just vastly enjoy your company.”

“why not just throw it out?” you ask, gingerly sitting on the edge of the bed.

kuroo’s room is a lot neater than you imagined it would be — navy bedspread tightly tucked in at the corners, vinyl floor completely clear save for a small rug. his desk is probably the messiest part of the entire room, holding an old, chunky desktop that’s covered in post-its with smudged, scribbled notes, ranging from “email prof. miyazawa about missing grade” to “buy mom flowers to apologize for broken mug.”

there are a couple posters on the wall, too, one for the japanese national volleyball team, and one for some punk-looking band dressed in an overabundance of leather, ripped denim, and hair feathers.

“this shit was expensive,” kuroo says, gesturing to the bottle before screwing the cap off and taking a long draught. your eyes widen as he drinks down a quarter of the remaining liquid, his adam’s apple bobbing with each swallow. “I can’t let it go to waste.”

“I think you’ve probably had enough of that,” you say, gently twisting it from his hands. kuroo smiles angelically before coming to tower over you.

“if you’re not gonna drink it, I will,” he says, reaching out to grasp the bottle’s neck. you hold onto it stubbornly.

“you’re clearly wasted, tetsu,” you say. “just let me throw it away.”

“I may have a small drinking problem,” kuroo says, “but I’m sober enough to know I’m not about to throw away the fifty bucks I spent on that. give it.”

“no!”

“yes.”

“nooooo!”

“yes!”

kuroo tries to wrench the bottle from you, and you spend a solid thirty seconds wiggling in his grasp before finally pulling it away. in an impulsive attempt to keep kuroo from getting even drunker, you bring the rim of the bottle to your lips and chug the rest of the whiskey.

kuroo’s eyes widen, and he guffaws loudly. “that was a lot of alcohol just now.”

you nod, wincing at the acrid taste, unwilling to swallow — the liquid is still swishing in your cheeks. you move to go spit it out in kuroo’s sink, but he grabs your arm.

“do not spit that out,” he warns. “that’s over two hours’ worth of minimum wage salary. I don’t work twenty hours a week in the wendy’s drive-thru just for you to flush it down the drain.”

“mmmm,” you protest, breathing through your nose. “hrghhhh mmm mm mhm.”

“I have no idea what you’re trying to say,” kuroo says, obviously trying to stifle his laughter.

you gesture wildly to your face, and then to the empty bottle, and then back to your face.

for a moment, kuroo wrinkles his nose, and then slowly smoothes out his expression. a small smile stretches across his lips, and he steps close to you. you’re acutely aware of your personal bubble being popped, as well of the fact that he smells strongly of old spice and mango body wash.

“I’ll do it then.”

“mm?” you squeak in confusion when he takes your chin in one hand and guides your face close to his. you’re not sure if you’re smelling the alcohol on his breath or tasting it on our own tongue. you’ve never been this physically close to your best friend in your life, and you can firmly say you’re absolutely petrified. you shake your head vehemently as he slowly leans down, tilting his head.

“calm down,” he says quietly, and in spite of yourself, you do. “I’m just taking a drink.”

then he presses his mouth to yours, and you freeze. oh, shit.

kuroo wedges his tongue between your lips, forcing them open, and then he sucks the whiskey from your mouth, one hand keeping your jaw open while the other snakes around your waist. your eyes widen just as his close, almost as if he’s enjoying the kiss. slowly, you close yours too, letting yourself melt into him as he keeps kissing you even after swallowing the liquid.

it lasts for a good ten seconds before you reluctantly pull away, letting your hands rest on his shoulders. he’s smiling, evidently very pleased with himself.

“what the hell was that?” you say breathlessly, searching his face.

“I was thirsty,” kuroo says nonchalantly. “and a little drunk. and you’re very pretty, as far as best friends go.”

you feel like you should be offended, yet you can’t quite bring yourself to be. you’re definitely flustered, though, and a little embarrassed. (okay, a lot embarrassed.)

“I think, um, I think I should go,” you say, breaking eye contact. kuroo raises a hand to stop you, but you brush him off, bounding out of the room to grab your bag and keys from the kitchen counter. “we can talk about this later, okay? you need to go take a nap or something.”

“no, hey, wait —”

but you’re already out the door and in the car, jamming the key into ignition. you just kissed your best friend. or did you? does that count as a kiss? or was that just kuroo being stupid? your mind spins with useless speculations on the drive home, and as you sprawl out on your bed for an hour afterwards. it’s not until later that evening that you check your phone, greeted by a handful of social media notifications… and a text from kuroo.

with shaking hands, you swipe it open, face immediately splitting into a grin.

kuroo: sorry about that

kuroo: ok, not really

kuroo: I’m not that sorry

kuroo: cuz you’re a good kisser

kuroo: a really good kisser

you: you too

you wait for a moment as the three little dots on kuroo’s side pop up.

kuroo: thanks

kuroo: I was still kind of stupid tho

kuroo: my b

you: you regret it?

your fingers shake in suspense as you await his answer, feeling all the world like a lovestruck fifteen year old. you’re a little disgusted to find yourself suddenly crushing on kuroo tetsurou of all people, but what can you say? maybe falling for your best friend is a little cliche. maybe it’s a little overdone. maybe the fact that you kissed him with a mouthful of whiskey belongs in a cheesy teen movie, but you can’t help but find yourself delighted that it happened.

kuroo: nope. not at all.

kuroo: not at all.

#kuroo tetsurou #kuroo tetsurou x reader #kuroo x reader #kuroo #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu oneshots #tw: alcohol #meg ur comment on my shitpost inspired me #HEH #hihqnetwork

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hajimine · 3 years

Text

BETWEEN THE NOTES — SEMI EITA x GN!READER

synopsis: for as long as you can remember, you and Semi Eita have always hated each other—but a couple of tender glances and one too many bottles of beer later, you find out that maybe you were looking at it the wrong way this whole time.

genre: fluff, (kinda) enemies to lovers, musician!au, mutual pining but they’re both idiots, jealousy, etc.

warnings: alcohol + intoxication (nothing bad happens), slight suggestive themes, vulgar language, kinda fast paced?

wc: ~2.5k

to: @archivednikes happy birthday shawdy <3

special thanks to: @rintaroll for beta-ing & telling me a lil bit about how bands work and stuff bc idk shit lol :,)

“Semi, get your ass moving,” you huff. “You’re gonna make me late.”

He gives you a smug look and raises a slitted eyebrow. “Did something crawl up your ass and died? What’s up with you?”

You exhale heavily through your nose and stare at him, unimpressed.

“We gotta catch the afternoon train if you wanna reach the venue in time for our gig. This is a really good opportunity for me, don’t you dare mess it up.” you say, gathering the last of your things for the trip.

There is a tingling sensation crawling down your spine, as if someone is staring at you. You look over your shoulder curiously, opening your mouth to utter another snarky remark to get your partner to stop gawking around and get ready.

But the intensity behind his gaze caught you by surprise.

Those hazel eyes of his—ones that are usually sharp and cold—held a sort of softness in them as he looks at you. When you caught him staring, his gaze did not falter one bit.

You couldn’t stop your eyes from traveling down the perfect slope of his nose, continuing down to his pouty lips.

As much as you hate him, you can’t deny that Semi Eita is an attractive man. Heck, even the word attractive isn’t enough to express how infuriatingly hot he is.

Your gaze stays on his lips for a second too long. Have they always looked this soft and inviting?

The dry cough from the opposite side of the room is the only thing that managed to break you out of this trance. Semi Eita’s trance.

Your manager stands by the door, tapping her foot on the wooden tiles impatiently.

“Now, lovebirds,” she narrows her eyes, “Save the PDA for tonight, yeah? We’ve got a schedule to follow.”

You roll your eyes at her, cheeks uncomfortably warm. And just like that, the strange yet tender moment you shared with Semi dissipated into thin air.

。。。

You don’t know if you should take pity on the gray-haired singer or if you should laugh at him.

Currently, Semi’s head is bowed down in shame as he gets an earful from his manager in the middle of a crowded train.

You see, the four of you should’ve arrived at the venue by now. Both your managers are very strict about schedules, and they planned to arrive at the bar two hours before the agreed time.

Thankfully, his bandmates have been a little more punctual than him and have successfully boarded the 4pm train. But Mr. Popular right here just had to stop every few minutes to take pictures with every single fan he met on the way to the station.

“It’s half past five now,” his manager whisper-shouts, “Do you know what that means?”

Semi tries to give her an awkward smile to calm her down. It doesn’t work.

“It’s rush hour! What if we won’t reach the bar in time? It could ruin both your careers, do you know that?” she glares at Semi once again, but there is less bite in her voice now.

“I’m sorry,” Semi starts, plastering a charming smile on his face, “I only wanted to be nice to the fans. Wouldn’t make too good of an impression if I just ignored them, no?”

His manager sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose, exasperated. She motions for Semi to stop talking with a wave of her hand.

The singer grins, and out of the corner of your eyes, you can sense his sharp gaze on you once more.

You try to ignore it.

。。。

When your group reaches the bar, Semi’s bandmates are almost done preparing themselves for the gig.

The bar is dimly lit and cool, the multitudes of warm overhead lighting being the only source of light in the room. It’s not too busy tonight, you observe. Some people still donned their work clothes, perhaps rushing over to the bar right after a long day at work—mingling around with friends to let loose for a little and enjoy themselves.

“Dude, where were you?” Aito asks, eyebrows turned downwards in a frown.

Semi pats the guitarist on the side of his head, “Relax, we’ve got plenty of time to prepare.”

Aito rolls his eyes, completely used to his bandmate’s antics.

“Whatever,” he huffs. “By the way, are we gonna have a little after party later?”

“Uh,” Semi’s eyes flicker towards you for one second, then back to Aito, “I dunno man, might be too tired to get wasted tonight.”

The guitarist narrows his eyes. He didn’t miss the way Semi’s gaze lingered on you.

“Y/N,” Aito smirks. “You coming to the after party?”

You were listening to their conversation this whole time, finding the whole exchange quite amusing.

“Eh, I don’t see why not,” you smile sweetly, “It’s gonna be even better now that this dude isn’t coming anyways.” You pointed your thumb at the vocalist.

From where he’s standing, you hear Semi scoff.

“Y’know what?” he sneers, “On second thought, I am going. How does that make you feel, huh?”

You shrug, feigning indifference.

“I literally do not care.”

“Piss off.”

Aito throws his head back in laughter, shaking his head as he walks away from the scene, muttering about people being too clueless and dense for their own damn good.

You adjusted your equipment bag on your shoulder, exhaling loudly to try and calm your heart down.

。。。

It is in moments like these that you remember why you decided to go forth with this career path, no matter how rocky it may be.

Adrenaline courses through your veins as you sing the lyrics of you and Semi’s song; every ounce of the jittery nerves you had just a few moments ago long gone.

There’s nobody else in this world that can ever take your place

Some of the customers are listening intently, others just nodding along to the song, and the rest not even listening at all.

You could hear your heartbeat thumping loudly against your chest, the sweat trickling down your forehead and into your eyes making it harder for you to see the crowd.

And when the day’s all done and dusted, all I ever need is to be in your arms again

You whip your head towards Semi, just like the countless times you rehearsed this song together.

“It shows chemistry,” your manager had said, “play it up for the crowd, will ya?”

The butterflies in your stomach flutters about restlessly when you notice that Semi has been looking at you this whole time.

His eyes—sharp and intense—held your gaze, unabashed. Steady. Sure.

Will you stay tonight? ‘Cause baby you’re all that I need, and you’re all that I want.

And in that moment, with your eyes locked on each other, the world seems to stop.

Nothing else matters, Semi’s lopsided smile says, only you.

。。。

The performance flew by in the blink of an eye, and it’s a little past midnight now. As promised, your managers held a little after party in the shared lounge of your penthouse suite.

It’s not as fancy as it sounds, you smile to yourself. There are suspicious stains on the gray carpet, and the furniture smells vaguely of cigarette smoke and sweat.

Bottles of beers have already littered the floor and glass table, and you haven’t even started drinking.

“Duuuude,” Yuuto slurs, “Why are ya so tense for?”

The bassist points at you and Semi, eyelids drooping as he tries his best to keep them open.

“C’mon guys,” Aito clasps his shoulders and massages them roughly, “Relax a little, we did amazing tonight.”

Semi shrugs his friend’s hands away, annoyed. He snatches an unopened bottle of beer from the cooler and opens the cap with his teeth.

You gulp. He hands you the bottle wordlessly before grabbing another one for himself, chugging it down quickly. You mirror his actions, hoping that the alcohol can dull the annoying fluttering in your stomach that refuses to leave ever since the two of you shared that intimate moment on stage.

For fuck’s sake, what’s going on with me?

Your trick works, in a way. Your stomach feels pleasantly warm now, and your breathing has finally evened out. Another unopened bottle of beer lays invitingly on the couch and you reach for it, opting for a bottle opener instead of doing it like Semi.

“Bro,” Yuuto grins at the singer, drool threatening to leave the corner of his mouth, “Did’ya see that blonde chick in the front row? She was hardcore eye-fucking you dude.”

“Ah,” Semi takes another swig of his beer, a cute flush blossoming in his cheeks.

Wait, what. Cute?

“She gave me her number when we were gathering up our stuff.” He runs his hand through his hair.

“You gonna hit her up or what?” Aito teases, smirking.

The singer shrugs, “Maybe, I dunno.”

Your breath hitches, and Aito’s smirk widens. You raise your eyebrows at him, silently telling him to fuck off.

“Where’s Kai?” you hear Semi ask. Come to think of it, you haven’t seen the drummer since after the show was over.

“Oh,” the guitarist laughs, “Fucker left us for some girl he saw in the bar. Might see him tomorrow morning, might not. Who knows?”

The vocalist hums and walks over to where you’re sitting, plopping down on the old couch.

“The managers?” Semi casually drapes his arm on the back of the sofa. You feel yourself tensing as your heart races uncontrollably, and the singer looks over at you with an unreadable expression on his face.

Aito scratches the back of his neck, quickly losing interest in the conversation.

“They decided to sleep in early. Long day, I guess.”

Semi nods and rests his head on the top of the couch, exposing his defined jawline. His eyelashes look so pretty from this angle, they’re long and fluttery and they almost…

Huh?

“Eita, are you gonna hit that blonde girl up or nah?” Aito provokes, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You clench your teeth and reach for yet another bottle—your fourth one this past hour. Or fifth. You don’t bother counting. Semi looks over at you again, but this time his eyes holds a sort of concern in them. You scoff to yourself.

“Uh,” the singer looks at his friend weirdly, “Why are you so insistent on this? I did say maybe didn’t I?”

Aito laughs. You almost recoil in disgust.

“Oh nothing,” he chuckles, “It’s just that she’s really hot and she’s your type so—”

You stand up abruptly, knocking over some empty beer bottles by accident. The regret is immediate. You can feel the acid in your stomach traveling up your esophagus, tickling the back of your throat.

Semi quickly stands up when you clasp a hand over your mouth, trying your best to hold it together.

“Shit,” he mutters, “You okay?”

He rubs tiny circles on the small of your back, an action that’s supposed to be soothing but instead causes tingles to run up and down your spine. You shiver.

Another wave of nausea hits before you could respond, causing your knees to almost give out under you.

“Whoa there, angel,” Semi wraps his arm around your waist, holding you flush to his side to support your weight.

You groan softly as your head spins uncomfortably. Droplets of cold sweat is starting to form on your forehead, adding another layer of discomfort upon you.

“You wanna go to your bedroom?” Semi murmurs close to your ear. You shiver again. At this, Semi thought that you’re freezing so he drapes his leather jacket on your shoulders, holding you close.

You nod weakly as you try to blink the black spots in your vision away.

From somewhere around the room, you hear Aito snicker, “Stay safe!”

You turn your head around to give him a deathly glare, but all you see is a big blob of blurriness.

Dammit.

。。。

Semi takes the key card from your bag and pushes the door open, placing your duffel bag on the floor after

He guides you to the bathroom—with gentleness you rarely see from him—and sets the toilet cover down so you can sit on it while he wets a towel with the running tap water.

“You still feel dizzy?” he asks, voice soft.

You stare at his fingers as he wrings the towel and shakes your head.

Semi holds out the cloth and pats your forehead with it, the coolness allowing you to feel a little more refreshed.

“Do you want me to make you some tea?” he wipes the back of your neck carefully.

Shit. Has he always been this thoughtful?

You shake your head again, telling him that you just want to go to sleep.

He sighs and gives you a half-smile, holding out his arm to help you to the bed.

Semi still has it in him to give you a little but of privacy as you wiggle out of your tight jeans, looking away until you slip under the covers.

He helps you pull the plush white comforter closer to your chest, tucking you in.

Your mind doesn’t feel as hazy as it was a few hours ago, but the leftover alcohol coursing through your veins gave you a sort of boost to your impulses.

“Eita,” you whisper, reaching out towards the singer, “Stay?”

The singer halts in his steps and turns to look at you.

“Uh, I don’t know Y/N,” he starts, “You’re drunk right now.”

“No I’m not,” you say, steady voice proving your point. “Please?”

Semi glances over at the door and sighs. He chewed on his lower lip for a few seconds before sighing again.

“Okay.”

。。。

You’re struggling to open your eyes when you wake up, the harsh sunlight streaming into the room completely unfiltered.

Drunk you completely forgot to close the blinds, it seems.

You groan audibly, wanting to pull the covers above your head to hide yourself from this cruel world.

You freeze. Why can you feel someone’s soft breaths on the crown of your head?

Nervously, you reach out in front of you, eyes still shut closed. Oh no.

You force your eyes open, grimacing from the sudden brightness. Your eyes widen at the sight in front of you. Semi Eita, your supposed nemesis, is sleeping soundly a few inches away from you, arms wrapped around your waist.

What the hell happened last night?

A small squeak leaves your mouth as you fully realize the situation you’re in. The small noise wakes Semi up from his slumber, causing him to slowly open his eyes, squinting at the bright light.

“Morning, angel,” he croaks, voice raspy with sleep.

My god does he look pretty in the morning.

You stay there, frozen and unblinking. All the words at the tip of your tongue seem to disappear from existence.

Semi blinks, sitting up quickly.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he rubs his eyes vigorously, “I should’ve said no when you asked me to stay. Fuck, you were drunk and I—”

You grab the back of his neck and pull him closer to you, a small smile gracing your lips.

Your thumb grazes Semi’s bottom lip, dragging it down every so slightly before releasing it, enjoying the way he seems to unravel under your touch.

“Shut up and kiss me, will you?” you murmur, trying to keep your cool as your heart hammers against your chest loudly.

At this, Semi breaks out of his reverie and laughs, “I thought you’d never ask.”

a/n: if you’ve made it this far, please feel free to let me know what you think about this fic! and please REBLOG IF YOU ENJOYED mwah <3

#❀ —𝐁𝐘 𝐇𝐀𝐉𝐈𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄 #haikyuu x reader #semi eita x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagines #semi eita imagines #semi eita #haikyuu x you #hq x reader #haikyuu scenarios #!semi

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wisteriashouse · 3 years

Text

intoxicated.

pairing: rengoku kyoujurou x f!reader

genre: fluff

word count: 1738

remarks: awful writing that i needed to get out of my system because god the idea is cute but the execution is a mess

The sudden knocking at your front door startles you from your slumber.

Awake but still groggy with sleep, you take a moment to peek at the clock hanging on the wall - it’s already one in the morning. You must have fallen asleep on the couch waiting for Kyoujurou to return home, the movie that you’d left playing on the television has been replaced by a list of credits rolling endlessly. Just as you’re about to let out another yawn, the knocking at the door resumes again, causing you to jump.

“Who is it?” You call, a little cautiously. It’s not like Kyoujurou to knock before he enters. If he were trying to announce his return home, it would more likely come in the form of a lively ‘I’m home, darling!’ or a surprise attack of smothering kisses and hugs. Not to mention how late at night it is… Slightly worried now, you reach for the heavy umbrella stand in the corner of the living room cautiously...

“Yo, open up before I leave your husband in the corridor!” To your surprise, the voice that answers your question is an unexpected but familiar one, dispelling any fear you have. You hurry to unlock the door, and once it swings open, Uzui Tengen’s massive frame fills the doorway of your apartment, a large shape slung over one of his broad shoulders. Bemused at this strange sight at your doorstep so late into the night, you squint a bit at the baggage Tengen is carrying before your eyes widen.

“Kyoujurou!”

“Right, where do you want me to drop off this sad sack of potatoes?” Without further explanation Tengen marches into your house, Kyoujurou still hoisted over his shoulder. Still at a loss to what’s going on, you gesture at the couch that you had been asleep on just a few moments prior, and Tengen proceeds to dump his colleague onto it unceremoniously. The two of you watch as Kyoujurou lets out a grumble at the sudden rough handling, fidgeting a bit on the couch before he falls still once more, eyes firmly shut. There’s a telltale crimson flush on his cheeks.

You turn to Tengen, who’s adjusting his jeweled headband with a hand and checking his hair in your mirror. “He’s completely drunk, isn’t he?”

Kyoujurou isn’t the type to drink, much less get inebriated to this extent. After growing up with a rather negative impression of alcohol, Kyoujurou strictly limits his own intake of it - never more than one or two glasses, and only during special occasions such as anniversaries or weddings. In fact, you don’t think you’ve ever seen Kyoujurou imbibing enough alcohol to get this intoxicated.

Your husband’s friend and colleague only shrugs, looking totally unrepentant with his arms crossed over his chest. “Well, it was results’ day for the academy today, and it turns out that not a single student failed history.” Surprised, you look down at Kyoujurou again. He’d been working so hard throughout the revision period, coming home later than usual and even skipping meals on occasion to tutor weaker students. Although Kyoujurou always claims that it’s not hard on him, you’re glad that his efforts have paid off so wonderfully. “So the teachers decided to hit the bar to celebrate, and at one point he mistook Shinazugawa’s vodka for water… yeah. Your husband really has no alcohol tolerance at all.”

You laugh a little, sitting next to Kyoujurou and resting the back of your hand on his cheek. “Well, you’re not wrong. Thanks for bringing him back, Tengen.” At your touch, Kyoujurou makes a pleased noise at the back of his throat, hands clasping yours and pressing it tighter against his cheek. With how warm he is, your hand probably feels like a refreshing ice pack to him. Tengen only makes a gagging noise.

“Yeah, yeah.” He waves it off casually, sticking his hands into the pockets of his hoodie before he turns to leave. “It’s getting late, so I better get back to my own family before they start worrying. I’ll lock the door on the way out, so you can just focus on taking care of that guy over there. See ya.”

You wave to him on his way out, and when the door clicks shut behind him, you look back at Kyoujurou, eyes gentle. His hair has come unbound (probably due to Tengen’s rough handling), a crimson and gold mess strewn over the couch. His normally pressed white shirt is wrinkled. With a faint smile, you shake your head before you reach for his tie, intending on undoing it so that you can put him to bed.

The second your fingers touch the knot of his tie, however, a pair of strong hands wrap around yours, stopping you in your tracks. Surprised, you look up at Kyoujurou, realising that his eyes have opened a crack as he looks blearily at you. “Ah, you’re awake?”

“M’ sorry but…” his words come out slightly slurred, and you have to strain your ears to make out what he’s saying. “But I'm… already married…”

You blink at him, momentarily amused. “Is that so?”

“Yes!” The volume of his declaration almost makes you jump, and you hurry to shush him before he can wake up all of the neighbours, hands pressed over his mouth. “So…” he waves a finger in front of your face wildly, a big frown on his lips. “No… funny business… Okay?”

So this is what your husband is like when he’s drunk. Now that you’ve been made privy to such knowledge, you can’t help but think that you should get him drunk more often. He’s cute. “Okay, no funny business,” you agree, removing your hands from his tie and placing them in your lap, although all you want to do is run your fingers through his hair and kiss the man silly. “How about I call your wife to come get you, then?”

Kyoujurou shakes his head quickly, orange and gold strands flying about. “No, no, no, don’t… she’s probably… sleeping by now.” He waves at the clock with a clumsy hand before sagging back onto the couch with a groan. “Don’t wanna disturb.”

A smile touches the corner of your lips. Really, you’ll have to make up for all the times you’ve wanted to kiss him now tomorrow morning. “You must love your wife very much, don’t you?”

“Of course!” Another shouted declaration, and you hurry to muffle him with a pillow to the face. “Very much so! More than anything else! I- hmpgf mhph hmm…”

A small burst of laughter escapes you before you can stop it, and you have to cover your mouth with your hands to suppress your laughter. The pillow you had been holding earlier falls between the two of you. Kyoujurou looks taken aback, confused, then he pouts, almost childishly. “It’s true!” Kyoujurou insists, mistaking your laughter for disbelief. Holding up his left hand, Kyoujurou gestures at his ring finger energetically. “Look!”

You don’t need to look to know that his silver wedding band will be sitting there snugly, never having been taken off since your wedding day. “Wow, what a coincidence,” you say, deciding to humour him. Holding up your own left hand, you put your hands side to side by comparison. Your wedding bands shine in the dim light of the room next to each other. “Look, we match.”

Kyoujurou squints at the bands for a moment, before he turns his head to study your face. Then his expression suddenly lights up, a gigantic smile illuminating his face. “Darling!” The hug that he gives you nearly knocks you off the couch, the tips of his hair tickling your nose as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. Drunk as he is, Kyoujurou’s hugs always make you feel the same way - loved, warm and protected.

“You silly oaf, I can’t believe you didn’t recognise me.” With a laugh, you reach up to ruffle his hair before you pull him to his feet, guiding him towards the bedroom. “Come on, let’s get you changed and tucked into bed.”

Kyoujurou whines, nuzzling the top of your head and both arms wrapped securely around your waist. “But I wanna keep hugging you,” he complains, then lets out a little yelp when you swat his ass firmly.

“Be a good boy and get changed first, then maybe I’ll cuddle you in bed.” With a pout, Kyoujurou loosens his embrace just enough for you to take a step back. Reaching up, you focus on undoing the knot of his tie, tossing it to the side before moving to undo the buttons of his work shirt. “This would be so much easier if you’d help me out, you know,” you say lightly to tease him, glancing up at him to see what he’s up to. To your surprise, Kyoujurou is watching you seriously with a strange intensity to his gaze. It’s not a look you see on him often. “Kyoujurou?”

Without a word, Kyoujurou leans forward abruptly - with no time to react, the next thing you feel is a pair of lips landing on yours gently. Taken by surprise, you can only stand still with your fingers lingering on the buttons of his shirt as Kyoujurou captures your mouth in a warm kiss. The long fingers cupping your jaw are gentle, as though you’re a precious thing that he can’t afford to break.

After a few seconds, Kyoujurou slowly pulls away, and when you finally look up, he’s grinning brightly at you once more. “Just wanted to do that!” Kyoujurou laughs, before he turns and flops onto the mattress, half unbuttoned shirt still clinging to his broad frame. Stunned by the mood swings that the alcohol has brought on, you stare at him before you shake your head and join him on the bed, giving up on your original goal of getting him undressed.

“You’re going to regret drinking so much tomorrow morning,” you whisper as you tuck Kyoujurou into bed. Kyoujurou only smiles up at you, reaching out to take you into his arms and pulling you firmly into his chest.

“That’s a problem for tomorrow!” He laughs, pressing your cheek against his. With a sigh, you pull the blankets over the two of you, snuggling closer to him for warmth.

“My problem for tomorrow, you mean.”

Still, you wouldn’t mind him getting drunk more often, you think as you fall asleep in his embrace.

#rengoku #rengoku fanfic #rengoku kyojuro #kyojuro #kyoujurou #rengoku kyojuro x reader #demon slayer #demon slayer fanfic #demon slayer fanfiction #demon slayer kyojuro #kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba fanfic #kimetsu rengoku #kimetsu kyojuro #kny fanfic #kny #kny kyojuro

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creativeashproductions · 4 years

Text

What If...? I // Alive!Luke Patterson

Summary: The story of Sunset Curve if someone had been able to stop them from the fatal street dogs. A rock and roll family legacy, the reader meets Luke at a concert where he decides she is his endgame, this is a story of their life together.

Warning: Swearing, fluff, female!reader, do street dogs count now??

Words: 3.0k

Requested: By @beautifulblogsblog . The request was detailed so this request with be 5 parts and shorter since I have no clue where 3.0k came from?! Enjoy.

A/N: Interesting fact about the stand where the guys get the streets dogs is the name of shady business is a play on words. Say the name fast and you’ll catch on.

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX PLEASE!

Masterlist

Los Angeles, Early 1990s

Sunset Curve started as a fun little project for a group of four teenagers from all walks of life and different stories. It came about when a kind blonde boy was trying to find a socially acceptable way to hang out with someone he was currently seeing. It worked because Alex had learnt drumming as a way to work his frustrations out, he didn’t feel like he could punch someone, so boxing was a no go. Luke, the guy he was seeing, had received a guitar from his parents and self-taught himself how to play. The Patterson parents believed it would be a phase and he’d get serious about education.

The duo found out that an acquaintance had been having taken guitar lessons for several years, as a date Luke and Alex discovered him in the music room at school. Somehow another guy, Bobby, joined and then when the relationship between Alex and Luke mutually ended the band floundered. Alex, however, refused to let the breakup affect their friendships. Luke refused to give up the band. Sunset Curve was then forever changed to a permanent band.

In 1993 Luke attended one of his favourite local bands at a venue where he bumped into you. Chemistry and attraction instantaneous between you two, unlike anything before. IN that few second you both knew that you had see the other again.

“Hey! Sorry!” You called out over the loud music glancing over his shoulder at your friends grinning in response. After a bad breakup, Jay and Ro had been pushing you into failed blind dates.

“No worries!” Luke replied, “Gnarly song, hey?”

You nodded glancing at your friends once more, “I better get back to my friends.”

Luke frowned as you gave no indication you felt the spark, he did in the minute of interaction, but he hoped he could change your mind. The encounter settled in his mind as the concert finished, and the clock struck midnight.

Ro and Jay hounded you for leaving a gorgeous guy with the same music taste, but you just felt wrong to lead him on. Sure, you felt something for the guy but look how the previous relationship turned out.

“After James…”

“He’s an ass,” Ro spoke frowning at the tone you used for your ex. A two-year relationship with a guy you thought would be your forever love, “Girl, I would date you in a second! You’re a strong woman who doesn’t need a man. But that doesn’t mean having a little fun…”

“He’s gorgeous.” Jay supplied looking over at the boy whose attention was sucked back into the music by the band Weezer. The band is an inspiration for his music, “Look at his arms. Cut off muscle shirts were explicitly made for him.

“If I see him again. I’ll think about it.” You sighed chuckling as Jay made a face at the song being played. Jay didn’t like this kind of music, but she loved you too much to not be there when you were still hurting.

A few weeks later in a bookstore, you waited for your Aunt’s book club to end so you could help close the store and go home. The sound of a guitar brought your head over the couch to see that guy with a band from the concert; all of them playing instruments. Godlike he couldn’t get any more perfect, then he started singing. You were a goner.

“You should try the cheesecake bites.” You spoke coming up behind the guy at the snack table, “So you like Weezer, play guitar in a rock band and you sing?”

Luke was surprised at the sight of you, “Hey. I..uh…yeah. Always been a fan of rock.”

“I grew up on it. My parents met at a Rush concert, and a year later they were married.” You spoke leaning back against the wall, “Dad’s on the road right now.

Alex noticed Luke talking to a girl across the room as he packed up his kit, a pinch of sadness felt, but he pushed it away. They ended for a reason, and they just didn’t care about each other the same way. Alex was happy for his friend.

“Is he in a band?” Luke asked glancing at the band shirt you tied into a crop top and a pair of shorts. It was gorgeous but straightforward on you.

“Yeah. The tour bus was kind of my first home, I guess.” You chuckled looking at the guy, “Hey sorry for being standoffish at the concert. It was lame of me.”

Luke smiled, crossing his arms and smiling when he noticed your eyes wander to his arms before you met his gaze again. He usually wasn’t so confident, but God, there was something that drew him to you. He’d hoped he would bump into you again.

“It’s cool.” Luke shrugged, “If I say something really cool, could I get your number?”

You smiled, grabbing the sharpie in your back pocket before gently taking his arm. Scribbling the number on his arm to glanced up to his awed expression.

“Call me.” You replied before pushing off the wall to head to the where your Aunt was starting to close up, “I have a personal line.”

Luke beamed happily following Reggie out the door, a grin that didn’t leave his face. He called. After a date, he called nightly, and a relationship was born.

Your converse slapped on the sidewalk as you sprinted to the band studio beyond excited to see Luke after two weeks of family time on the road. You missed him. He was coming out of the studio they rented when he glanced up. He stumbled back when you slammed into him full force.

“Whoa!” Luke yelped as he caught his balance and squeezed you close to him, breathing in the scent that was just you, “I missed you so much.”

“Me too.” You breathed hurriedly kissing him in response, “I just got back, and I had to see you.”

The entire world fades away as you guys kissed as if you hadn’t seen each other in months rather than a few weeks. His one hand moving to cup the back of your neck and the other squeezing your hip. Yours wrapped around his neck.

Your heads tilting to deepen the kiss when a voice interrupted you.

“Gag me with a spoon.” Bobby spoke, walking by with a grimace, “Nice that your back so Luke will stop moping but too bad since I’ll have to see that.”

“Oh, shut up, man.” Luke shoved him playfully before he picked up his abandoned guitar case and held your hand tighter, “You’ll understand when you find someone.”

Reggie and Alex waved as they continued on, Reggie would have to endure a tense supper with his parents, and Alex had family plans as well. Luke, however, was bringing you home to see his parents; out of his life choices, Emily and Mitch adored you.

“Come on.” Luke smiled, kissing your cheek as he tugged you to the sidewalk refusing you let you go on the walk to his place. Luke listened as you told stories from your time with your parents; he had allowed to meet them. Every time, however, last-minute details kept Luke from meeting your father.

“So, I have some news…” You playfully said coming to a stop at the front door of his house with a grin. Luke’s little grin appeared at how happy you looked and the sunburn on the tip of your nose.

“Yeah?”

“You know Poison Monarchy, right? The club.” You questioned moving to lean against the brickwork, you were expected to see his reaction. Luke’s eyes brightened at the mention of a famous club that jumpstarted a few bands.

“Of course! The guys and I snuck in to see this radical band. We got kicked out, but man it was such a cool night.” Luke grinned slipping into the memory of being where local bands got big, and most went on to place The Orpheum.

“Well-“

“Luke.” Luke’s dad Mitch spoke from the open doorway with a look of displeasure at the guitar case resting at the teen’s feet.

Luke automatically straightened his posture at the sight of his stern father waiting in the entrance. His hand keeping yours when it started to slip out.

“Dinner is getting cold,” Mitch spoke, turning his attention to you. His stern expression breaking into a genuine smile, “Y/N, it’s nice to have you over.”

Luke was led into his own house by you as you enthralled Mitch in a story about something you saw on the road. His Mom was putting the last dish on the table when the kitchen livened up with the new additions. Emily was quick to tug you into a huge before everyone washed up.

Luke was kind to walk you home after dinner with his parents where he could breathe again from the expectations in his home. His arm slung around your shoulder, humming a new melody that had been in the back of his mind.

“So, I hope you guys are free Friday.” You spoke nestling further into his side content in his jacket he had draped over your shoulders.

“Why?” Luke questioned, tilting his head to kiss your temple. His fringe tickling your forehead as he did so.

“The regular band isn’t able to play, and they were looking for a replacement. My Aunt-“

“-who owns the book store you finally talked to me at-“

You chucked at Luke’s words, “Anyways, her brother-in-law went to high school with the owner, and I may have dropped your band, and well you have a gig.”

“I love you,” Luke exclaimed stumbling back at his words. Your eyes widened in response, “Oh god. That is not how I wanted to tell-“

“You love me?” You shyly spoke, staring at the boy that held your heart in his hands ever since the first real conversation. Luke’s face turned bright red as he stuttered out mindless words. Something in your eyes changed that, and the confidence returned with a shade of shy.

“Yeah. I do. I have for a while, but I know how that loser broke your heart, and I didn’t want to rush you.” Luke spoke cupping your cheek in his hand, “But I really love you. Like, not some puppy love either. I see two things in the future. Sunset Curve and you.”

“Luke-”

“And I know it’s only been a year, and we’re barely seventeen, but I’ve only been sure about two things in my life. You don’t have to-“

“Luke! I love you too.” You laughed, reaching up to kiss him with all the love you could pour into it. Love you loved him, and God help him, he adored you, “Well Rockstar, better plan your setlist.”

You breathed cradling his hands still cupped on your cheeks each bearing a grin of pure happiness because this was a perfect moment; just Luke and you in love. That was all that was needed.

Two years flew by for Sunset Curve and your relationship with Luke did as well and with every relationship came ups and downs. After a nasty fight, you came to a compromise to never go to bed angry, Luke had spent the entire night on your porch. He got sick, and you made up. After performing at Poison Monarchy, the first time they had monthly gigs there, they would busk on the street for extra cash. Luke bought you a promise ring with his busking savings just before the big blowout with his parents on Christmas.

“Luke?” You yawned opening the door to a sobbing teenager. You were quick to yank him in the house out of the cold.

Luke broke down that night after running out on his Mom for the usual argument he had based on his dreams. The next few months he would alternate staying at Reggie, Alex’s or your place if your parents were gone. The subject was too sensitive, so you ignored the elephant topic in the room instead of addressing it.

“Babe, we did it.” The glee in his voice was by far one of your favourite things to listen to. You were sitting on the bar with him leaning back between your legs. Both your eyes scanning the empty area of The Orpheum.

“You guys did it.” You breathed, “You pour yourself into this band. You guys finally get the accomplishment.”

The rest of the band had joined you guys in complete silence to take in the monumental moment in their lives. Something you didn’t want to tell the boys was that with a little nudging, your father had spread the word of an up and coming band. His words would be bringing people in the business tonight.

“So, I’m thinking we close with Now or Never.” Alex offered, “It’s our high-level energy song, and to close with it would be perfect.”

“Our third song could be ‘Home is Where My Horse Is’ and go int-“Reggie cut himself off when the band gave him the usual look, “Oh come on! We need to give a little taste for when we dropped a country album.”

“I-“ Luke shook his head disregarding the same thing that happened at every gig they had done, “We’ll start practising. See you in a bit.”

Luke swiftly kiss you before shoving around with the boys to the door backstage glancing over with a heart-stopping smile. You watched intently as they began their soundcheck for the gig buzzed on the excitement.

“They’re good.” A beautiful girl spoke wiping down the counter beside you—her brown eyes watching the band perform.

“They are. I’m Y/N.” You grinned as she introduced herself as Rose, “The two on the ends are single.”

Her chuckle spoke for itself as she moved away to put glasses away behind the bar, her tight curls bouncing as she walked. You see Bobby and Reggie had their eyes pinned on her while Luke’s head was in the clouds or his eyes meeting yours.

“So, the restaurant is ready when they are.” The gritty voice spoke from behind you. Standing in the flesh was your father who you immediately jumped at.

“Dad!” You exclaimed happily that he had finally been able to come to see the guys play. It was always a wrong time when he was supposed to meet the band.

It’s what happens when he happens your father happens to be in one of the biggest rock bands around. Little people knew who your father was, even Luke just knew he was in a band and called him by his last name out of respect. He had never met him face to face, however.

“So, the frontman is Luke?” Lancaster, Lance for short, questioned his daughter leaning beside her, “Remember when your type was a football player?”

You snorted at his words since he had never liked your ex-boyfriend James. Lance had heard stories from your mother and you about Luke. Lance so far liked the teenage boy. He trusted you wholeheartedly to make responsible decisions.

“Oh, shut up.” You spoke, pushing his shoulder, “How was London?”

“Same as usual. Met up with the guys.” The sombre tone was enough for you to know he had been celebrating a close friend. Even with Freddie’s illness, your father hadn’t been able to leave his side and even four years after the death of Freddie Mercury, it still cut Lance up.

“I’m happy you’re home.” You spoke smirking when the band finished their soundcheck heading to the waitress immediately after. Bobby, no doubt flirting while the other searched for you, “Man, this is gonna be good.”

You raised your hand to your boyfriend, who quickly made his way over with a huge grin and heavy breathing.

“Man that was as exhilarating as our-“

“Luke!” You nervously chuckled quickly kissing him before he could embarrass himself in front of your father. Luke frowned at your tone before he glanced over to the side. Alex and Reggie making their way over, “Guys, things aligned perfectly. I want you to meet my father.”

Luke’s eyes widened as it clicked that he had almost told his girlfriend’s father he was sleeping with her. His Adam’s apple gulped at the fear that flooded his veins. The father in question turned, and the band as a collective released the most hilarious gasp of shock.

“That’s-“

“Lance Y/L/N. By your expressions, I assume you know my stage name.”

“Lancaster Jameson.” Alex squealed having to grab Reggie’s arm to keep himself upright.

“Your father is Lancaster Jameson?!” Luke exclaimed, “You didn’t tell me you’re a literal rock legacy!”

You could hold back the laugh waiting to fall from your mouth at their reactions to your family history. The excitement was overpowering everything else.

“He just watched us perform.” Reggie breathed, hitting Alex in the chest, “My dream has been reached. My goal is finished.”

“While they calm down, I’ll see you later,” Dad spoke kissing the side of your head as he whistled his way to the entrance. The group was collapsing almost only regrouping to make fun of Bobby. You are tugged with them.

“Ok, well, I’m thinking we fuel up before the show. I’m thinking of street dogs.” Luke announced happily, whereas you made a disgusting face.

“No.” You shook your head at the suggestion. There was no way you were going to down a street dog before their gig.

“It would be fitting.”

“No. I have a feeling that street dog would have been your last. The place is called Sam N Ella’s guys, if you say it fast, it comes out salmonella.” You spoke glaring at Reggie went to say something, “No. We’ll head to have food with my folks and some of their friends.”

“Getting food with a rock legend? Heck, yes!” Alex spoke already heading for the door with Reggie right behind, “Street dogs are in the past!”

It was a beautiful night. Sunset Curve got a ton of offers, and many demos were taken from the group as well. They also didn’t die.

Tag List (PLEASE SEND AN INBOX TO BE ADDED!)

@safehavenmuse @siennanoelle01 @whiterose291 @mell-bell @blackhood5sos @ficrecsideblog @ifilwtmfc @deadpoolgirl23 @crappy-unicorn @sunsetcurve-h@elioelioeli0 @lovesanimals @popcrone818 @lolychu @deepsleepnat @tenaciousperfectionunknown

#luke patterson imagines #julie and the phantoms imagines #jatp luke #luke patterson x reader #caitsy and ash productions #charlie gillespie

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theteddylupinexperience · 3 years

Text

The Concert | Dio Morrissey x f!reader

AN: not a lot to say about this one, aside from the fact that I’m actually really happy with how it turned out. I always love the “best friend’s younger sister” trope, and who better to do it with than our goth king himself. Thanks as always to @pascalpanic for hyping me up and listening to me rant about mosh pits. Enjoy!

Warnings: swearing, kissing, super mild punk show related violence, brief anxiety mention, Dio is a little cringey but you like it

“Kiddo, you’re not even gonna have fun,” your brother swears, “this band is harsh no doubt, I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“As sweet as your over protection is, you’re not ditching me tonight,” you roll your eyes. Your brother is sitting on your bathroom counter watching you get ready for the concert he promised a month ago he’d take you to. You know his concern comes from a genuine place, you’d only gotten into the goth scene fairly recently, and long time fans can be really intense with “virgins.”

“Hey, uh, is Shane gonna be there?” you ask, casually as you can manage. You attempt to continue with your black eyeshadow to avoid eye contact with your brother, but he sees right through you anyways.

“First of all, you have to call him Dio while we’re in public. You are not killing the vibe on your induction night. Second of all, gross. I’m sitting right here. Drool over my best friend on your own time.” Your brother pokes your forehead with one of your makeup brushes in a scolding manor.

“Okay well first of all,” you start, “this is my time because this is my bathroom. And second of all… do YOU have any weird nickname I should be aware of before I, and I quote, kill the vibe?”

Your brother flushes slightly, looking at the ground before answering, “Uh, it’s Ghost, actually.”

You narrow your eyes at him, biting back a laugh at how ridiculous he looks, bright red ears contrasting the Doc Martens currently kicking against the floor.

“Dio and… Ghost?” He just nods, looking up at you finally.

“Well alright, my knights in dirty ass Tripp pants.” The comment earns you a laugh, and you feel a small swell of pride rise in your chest. For as insufferable as you found each other a lot of the time, your older brother really was like your best friend. His group of friends had stuck together since middle school, and had absolutely taken you under their wing when you’d let yourself really fall into your darker side. Tonight was your first real night out with everyone, and you couldn’t pretend to be more nervous. You had known your brother’s best friend Shane, Dio, since you were in third grade and had always found him fascinating. You can’t deny that he’s gorgeous, tall and lean, always wearing a leather trench coat that accentuates those features. Full, plush lips, and deep brown eyes that you want to get lost in. Just as you find yourself actually getting lost in the thought of Dio, you’re startled back to reality when your brother turns your hair dryer on and blows it in your face.

“Yo, kid, did I lose you? We gotta go,” in your trance he’s managed to get his hair done and a subtly cool amount of eyeliner. You can only hope not to look like a child, or god forbid a drone, next to him and his friends. “Don’t be nervous, just get your shoes on.”

When you get your boots laced up, you give yourself one last glance in the mirror, fluffing your hair to make it look less obviously styled, and run out the door.

When you arrive at the venue, if you could call it that, it looks more like a rundown warehouse, the music is already in full swing. “The openers always fuckin’ suck, kid,” your brother had told you, “we always show up at least an hour late.”

You’re rocking nervously on your heels, stuck to the ground where your brother had told you to wait while he found the group and brought them over to you. You smile widely when you see them approaching you, but are quick to cover it with what you hope is a cool smirk. Out of place doesn’t even begin to describe how you feel, it would be more accurate to say you’re on a different plane of existence. You’ve managed to transcend discomfort and now have settled into a calmer state.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Wednesday Addams herself,” a deep voice calls out from the head of the pack.

“Hey Sh- uh, Dio,” you stammer as the king himself puts his hands on your shoulders to inspect your outfit. Your stomach drops when he brushes some hair from your face. “You look good. Like you put some thought into how you look, unlike the rest of these drones.” Your face lights up at his praise, and flushes quickly when he winks at you.

Your group makes their way towards the front of the stage when you hear the headlining band announced. The first few songs go off without a hitch, the crowd moves in a seething, pulsing way to the music, and you find yourself moving along with them. You catch Dio’s eyes a couple times to find him already looking at you, his expression relaxed and amused, but his eyes dark as he takes in everything around him. You’re about to walk over and ask him to dance with you when you hear from the stage, “Alright everybody, let’s open this fucking pit!”

Your eyes widen briefly, but you try your best to stay cool in front of your brother and his friends. You can only imagine how lame Dio would find you if you lost your cool because of some moshing. Unfortunately, in your attempt to save face, you’ve distracted yourself to the people around you and find yourself getting shoved, almost to the ground. Your brother hurries over and helps you up, and you assure him you’re fine. It’s nothing you can’t handle. He keeps his grip on you a moment longer, and ruffles your hair before jumping into the circle pit himself. You do your best to keep dancing around, staying away from everyone jumping and shoving each other as much as you can, and for a few minutes you’re surprisingly successful.

The next song that plays is even more intense than the last, and you find yourself crowded against the stage trying to stay away from everything. Your heart rate quickens, and you can feel an anxiety attack trying to creep its way up your spine. You look around desperately, searching for your brother so you can beg him to take you home, when a hand on your shoulder startles you.

Warm brown eyes search your own, “Didn’t mean to scare you, darling, but do you want to get out of here?”

You nod up at Dio, and he takes your hand, guiding you in front of him towards a side door. One of his hands rests protectively against the small of your back, and you shudder at the warmth. You’re outside, the air is cool against the sweat on your skin, and yet Dio’s hand never leaves yours.

“D’you wanna sit?” He gestures to a bench resting against the side of the building.

“I-” your voice cracks, and you clear your throat to find some volume, “Sure, that sounds nice.”

The pair of you sit in silence for a moment while you catch your breath, you can feel Dio’s eyes boring into you, but can’t bear to look at him. “God, I’m so sorry, Shane,” you whisper, “Er, Dio, fuck, sorry again.”

“Don’t apologize, darling, it’s just you and me out here.” You finally dare to look up, and he’s smiling gently at you, holding both of your hands in one of his, and rubbing the other soothingly up your back. “I know the first time can be intense, to say the least. It’s a madhouse in there, and those fucking drones don’t know any better than to push everyone around. It should be a crime to scare or shove anyone as perfect as you.”

You huff out a strangled laugh at his words, and move your hands to fiddle with the rings on his fingers. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

“Because you’re my best friend’s little sister,” he starts, and his grip on your back tightens when disappointment crosses your features, “and because you are the most beautiful creature I have ever laid eyes on. If someone as ethereal as you will even allow me in your presence, I have done something right.”

You turn your body towards him completely, searching his face. The strong, confident, devil may care Dio from inside is nothing compared to the patient, sweet, borderline insecure Shane you’re talking to out here. You reach your hand up to caress his face, smoothing down his dyed black curls, tracing your thumb against his full bottom lip. Shane melts into your touch, a content sigh leaving his lips at the contact, the heat of your skin against his feels more powerful than the sun at this moment. When you run your thumb nail against the sensitive skin behind his ear, his eyes snap open.

“Can I- would you… would you be mad if I kissed you?” He asks, his voice shy, but his eyes full of want.

‘I’ll be mad if you don’t,” you laugh incredulously. Shane places one hand against your jaw, and the other one slides up your back to rest in your hair. The cool metal of his rings feels electric, but nothing could compare to the jolt you feel when his lips meet yours. He’s soft, so much gentler than you imagined he’d be, and he takes his time losing himself in the feeling of your lips moving against his. He pulls away too soon, and you grab the front of his jacket to pull him back to you.

This kiss is not as gentle, but it is equally as sweet and intoxicating. His hand tightens on your scalp, and his tongue presses against the seam of your lips. You gasp, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue against yours. He tastes like clove cigarettes and Jaeger, and it’s fucking incredible. He’s more perfect than your wildest dreams of him, and the low moan he lets out when you scratch your nails up his back makes you reconsider everything you’ve ever thought about heaven.

Eventually you have to breathe, so you pull back just a bit and rest your forehead against his. “Wow,” you manage to get out. Shane laughs, the sound is more musical than anything you’ve heard tonight.

“Wow is correct, my darling, you are truly more ethereal than I could have fathomed.” He kisses you again, softly on the lips, and then places another on your cheek. “Do you think I could take you out for real sometime soon?”

You bite your lip to prevent a giddy smile from breaking across your face, and nod quickly. “I actually found this record store with its own coffee shop a couple towns over, we could check that out, maybe? I mean, I’ve liked you since freshman year, so anything you want to do would be perfect. You’re perfect, Dio.”

His ears flush an adorable pink, and he smiles almost shyly up at you. “Shane,” he says, “Call me Shane.”

You beam up at him, “Shane.”

He stands up, takes your hand, and leads you back into the concert venue. Walking arm in arm with the king, you feel like you could jump right in the middle of that mosh pit and come out on top. Shane guides you back to your friends, and you try not to get overwhelmed by the stares and whispers when people see you together. Your brother catches a glimpse of you, his eyes drop down to where your hand is connected with Shane’s, and you brace yourself for an obnoxious or over protective comment.

“It’s about goddamn time.”

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal imagine #shane dio morrissey #dio morrissey #dio morrissey imagine #dio morrissey x reader

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beautiful-and-terrible · 3 years

Text

dazed ‘n’ confused (part 4)

A/N: just a quick chapter for you guys before i have to put this story on the back burner :( i have an annual essay coming up in school that i gotta focus on. anyway, hope you like the gangs drunk shennanigans

Ship: Rodrick Heffley / OFC

Warnings: underage drinking / drug use, inebriated driving (DONT DRIVE DRUNK KIDS THIS IS A FICTIONAL STORY DONT BE STUPID :) )

---

“If we get caught, my mom’ll kill me,” Rodrick groaned.

“Let’s bounce,” Nicole said, untangling herself from him and grabbing his hand as they ran further into the back yard, looking for an escape route.

“I’ll boost you,” Rodrick said, gesturing to the fence. Nicole nodded, not thinking of a better plan, and wanting to get out of there as fast as possible. She stepped into the make-shift step Rodrick made with his palms, and as she swung a leg over the fence, he pushed her the rest of the way. It wasn’t the most graceful execution, and she ended up landing on her ass with a grunt of pain.

Rodrick also clumsily made his way over the fence - both of them being drunk and high didn’t help their coordination much. “Sorry, are you good?” Rodrick said, clutching his shin, and Nicole waved him off.

“It’s fine, let's just get to the van.”

“Oh, fuck, the van!” Rodrick hissed, “The pigs are totally gonna know it’s mine.” With a big fucking stupid band name written on the side, Nicole reckoned he was right - it was pretty easy to identify, even without the plates.

“I can drive, don’t worry,” Nicole said, already starting toward the white van, creeping between other cars on the street.

“Nikky, you’re as trashed as I am, no way am I letting you drive.”

“Trust me, hot Rod,” Nicole said, slipping her hand into his front pocket and pulling out his keys before he could even blink. As they approached his van, Chris and Ben appeared in the shadows next to them, whispering excitedly as they spotted them.

“As soon as we saw the lights we bolted,” Ben snickered, but Chris looked concerned.

“Yo, I hope Caitlin doesn’t get arrested. There was a lotta booze in there,” he muttered, and Ben smacked his arm.

“You whipped, dude?”

Chris scoffed, “No, I would just feel bad for anyone in that sitch.”

“I agree,” Nicole said, feeling guilty that she couldn’t help Caitlin get out of trouble.

“C’mon, let’s fucking go,” Rodrick said, and all at once the four of them dashed to the van. Nicole jumped in the driver's seat, shoving the key in the ignition with some fumbling, and peeling out from their parking spot across the street from Caitlin’s house with enough force to make even Rodrick proud.

“We’ll make a NASCAR driver out of you yet, Nikky,” Rodrick laughed, whooping as he leaned his head out the window like a dog, the night air tangling through his hair. Ben scrambled up to the front seat from the back of the van, fiddling with the radio before he settled on a station playing “Where Is My Mind” by Pixies. Nicole turned up the volume to its top capacity, concentrating on the road lines in front of her. The adrenaline of avoiding the cops had sobered her up a little, but she was still feeling paranoid from the weed and drowsy from the beer. She drove as slowly as she dared so as not to seem suspicious.

“Thanks for being our getaway driver, Nicole,” Chris said, his words slurring a little more than she had noticed previously. She looked back and saw him chugging a beer in the back.

“Dude, don’t fucking drink while I’m driving! We’re already in deep shit as it is,” Nicole said, turning on to the main street of downtown Plainview. Just a few more turns and they’d be home.

“You’re deep in something, alright,” Ben cackled, and he and Chris high-fived.

“Yeah, six inches deep in your mom,” Nicole shot back, and Rodrick let out an “ooooooo”, pointing at Ben, “Gotcha, bitch.”

Eventually, by some miracle, they made it to Nicole’s street. She hit the curb as she pulled up in front of her and Rodrick’s house, causing all three boys to shriek in unison. Nicole dissolved into giggles, both in relief of finally being out of danger and in reaction to the boys high-pitched screams of indignation.

“She’s an antique, Nikky!” Rodrick said, jumping out of the van to stumble to the front and assess the damage.

“Oh, I’m fine, by the way,” Nicole snarked, and Rodrick suddenly looked at her intensely, giving her a slightly blurry-eyed up-and-down look.

“Fine as hell,” he muttered, loud enough for her to hear, and she blushed, biting her lip to keep from smiling too widely.

“Rodrick, can we crash at your place,” Ben asked, Chris making puppy dog eyes at him.

“Me too - I don’t wanna wake my parents up. Our front door is creaky as shit,” Nicole said.

Rodrick sighed loudly, as if he were being asked to do something terribly inconvenient.

“Yeah, fine. Y’all want mac and cheese?”

The four of them, all drunk and high as kites, looked at each other and nodded in perfect synchronicity.

As quietly as they could for four fucked up teenagers, they snuck their way into Rodricks kitchen. He pulled out a four pack of Kraft Mac and Cheese microwave cups from the pantry, filling them all with way too much water and sticking all four of them, at the same time, in the microwave.

“Dude, can I eat this beef jerky?” Chris asked, rummaging through the pantry.

“They’re my dads,” Rodrick said, as if that offered an explanation. “If you wanna explain to him why they’re gone, knock yourself out.”

Chris slowly put the bag back, looking put out.

Nicole stood next to Ben, both of them leaning on the kitchen counter. Nicole looked over at him, and he looked back, giving her a little smile. He wasn’t bad looking, but where as Rodrick was endearing because he tried to seem cool and really wasn’t, Ben had an effortless coolness about him.

“Thanks for coming with us tonight, Ben,” Nicole said. The alcohol must be making her feel emotional. After all, they had only just met today.

“Aww, Nikky, of course! I never pass up an opportunity for debauchery,” Ben said, giving her shoulder a squeeze. He pronounced debauchery like “de-booch-ery”, but Nicole was too drunk to catch the mistake. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Rodrick glaring at Ben. Dumbass, he has no reason to be jealous, Nicole thought to herself, and gave him a little reassuring wave by wiggling her fingers in his direction.

“Yo, be careful on this mac, its fucking hot,” Rodrick said, pulling the cups out of the microwave. They still had water in them, and the cheese powder wasn’t fully mixed in, but in the moment it was the most delicious thing Nicole had ever tasted.

“Should we watch a movie?” Ben suggested, and Chris bounced on his toes excitedly.

“Killer Clowns from Space!! Pleeeaaaase! You’ve been promising me for weeks now that we’d watch it.”

Ben sighed, Rodrick rolled his eyes, but Nicole had no opinion on the subject, so she made the executive decision to say, “I’m down.”

Ben and Rodrick both groaned, and Chris gave her a fist bump from across the kitchen island.

“Nikky has taste, sorry guys,” Chris said, looking very smug as he slurped his luke-warm mac and cheese.

They all somehow stumbled up to Rodrick’s room - Nicole belatedly realized she had been dreaming about being in his room for weeks, and now that she was here took the time to really appreciate what was in front of her.

A person’s room can tell you everything you need to know about them. For one, Rodrick was messy, but no more messy than any other average teenage boy. Clothes on the floor and the back of his desk chair, thrown haphazardly over a bean-bag in the corner of the room. There were christmas lights strung from the ceiling, both white and rainbow, that gave the room a cozy vibe that Nicole would’ve never expected from Rodrick.

His walls were mostly covered in band posters, and above his desk there was a cork board littered with tickets of concerts he had been to. Nicole almost seethed with jealousy at the sheer amount and quality of concerts he had been to - Leftover Crack, Pleasure Venom, Less than Jake, and one of Nicole’s personal favorites, Mannequin Pussy.

“You like Mannequin Pussy?” Nicole said, whipping her head around to look at Rodrick.

“That's not the only kind of pussy he likes,” Ben hollered, causing Chris to smack him upside the head.

“There's a lady present, dumbass,” Chris said, and Ben raised his hands in surrender.

“I think you mean that’s the only kind of pussy he gets,” Nicole said, throwing a teasing wink toward Rodrick, who blushed bright red.

“Yeah, they’re good. Romantic is my favorite album,” Rodrick said, scratching the back of his neck self consciously. Ben and Chris started making kissing noises in his direction, and Rodrick threw a pillow at them.

As Chris and Ben fought over who would set up the projector, Nicole let her snooping instincts take over, looking at the other miscellaneous things Rodrick had around his room - empty liquor bottles filled with more lights, a surprising amount of books (mostly graphic novels), a lava lamp filled with miniature rubber ducks, and mushroom paraphernalia. Everywhere. His pillowcases, the tapestry above his bed, and the stickers on his water bottle all had holographic or brightly colored mushrooms on them. She was so absorbed in her investigation she didn’t even notice Rodrick next to her until he spoke.

“Committing it to memory? You might never be in here again,” Rodrick said with a small smirk. Nicole gave him a look out of the corner of her eye.

“I wouldn’t count on it, babe,” Nicole said boldly. She felt the warmth of Rodrick’s hand on her hip, and looked up at him. And his lips. She wanted to kiss him again so badly it was like a drug, her body telling her to get her next fix as quickly and as often as possible. Being in his space, the place he let himself be his most authentic self, was very intimate, even with Chris and Ben still arguing in the corner.

Rodrick looked away shyly, squeezing her hip once before turning back to the boys. Chris had evidently lost the rock-paper-scissors match to set up the movie on the projector, and was adjusting the screen on the far wall of Rodrick’s room, trying to find a website to pirate the movie from.

“If we’re gonna watch this shit let’s do it,” he said, settling himself in the beat up reclining chair he had, arms above his head. He should be illegal, Nicole thought to herself, making herself comfortable on the bed.

Which ended up being a mistake, because 20 minutes into the movie, Nicole was asleep. She felt a blanket being gently placed over her before she was dead to the world.

#rodrick heffley #rodrick heffley x reader #rodrick heffley x original female character #rodrick heffley fanfic #rodrick #diary of a wimpy kid #greg heffley #emo #rock #band #emoband #ratpack #summer #summer romance #fanfiction #rodrick heffley fanfiction

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burntmcnuggies · 3 years

Text

HC: Hawks gets a pimple

Hawks x Reader

Warnings: fluff! Slight mention of suggestive sexual intercourse and cursing! But that’s it! Enjoy!

Word Count: 2.7K

Hawks was having a good morning so far. The sunlight peeked through the curtains of his spacious penthouse apartment, letting the orange glow illuminate the usually dark room. His avian like eyes peeked open, dark pupils shrinking at the sudden invasion of brightness. He rose a heavy hand up to block out the light, groaning in reluctance to rise from his comfy bed next to you. Both his eyes opened slowly, remembering that you’d spent the night with him. His golden hues focused in on your sleeping face beside him. He loved moments like these, waking up with you beside him —even though he had to leave you. It always made his heart swell with warmth.

Once he lazily picked himself out of bed, careful not to wake you, he sent a few sturdy feathers to collect the fallen ones he’d littered on the floor and to dispose of them. He gave you one last look with a satisfied huff and a genuinely loving smile. His light footsteps padded against the hardwood floors as he went to his closet and began to dress for the day, leaving his pants undone so he could take a leak before he left. He slipped into the bathroom and out of habit sparred a glance at himself in the mirror. His eyes shifted to the toilet until he froze. WAIT—

Hawks jerked back around to the mirror and rushed over to the reflective glass, eyes shrunken and horrified at the rather large white bump that protruded from his skin, an irritated flush of his skin surrounding the small pore. “No, no, no, no, no. Oh fuck, shit, what the hell is that?!” His bare hands rose to gently poke and run his finger along the pus filled pore. He winced at the touch and pain that swelled around his cheek. The dashingly handsome hero had no idea what was now stuck on his face, blemishing his sex appeal and pride.

In a fit of panic he flew to your side and shook you gently awake. “(Y/N). (Y/N) wake up! I need your help!” You stirred and groaned in exhaustion, cracking your eyes open to see your lover with a panicked expression. “Mmm... what’s wrong Keigo?” Your voice was groggy and tired, laced with drowsiness as your body threatened to lull you back to sleep. “There’s something on my face, I-I don’t know what it is. Can you help me cover it up?” Your brows knit together at the urgency in his voice. Why was he freaking out about some cut on his face? He got small scratches all the time. “Keigo it’s just a scratch. Just put a band-aid-“ “ITS WHITE. It’s not a scratch!”

Your eyes opened in confusion and the instant you saw his face your pupils narrowed in on the irritated red patch of skin that dawned his right cheek about an inch or two away from the corner of his lips. “Keigo that’s a pimple. It’s norma-“ “A PIMPLE?!?!” His loud shouting instantly woke you up, and your ears rung in slight irritation at the unexpected squawking. He was urgently pointing towards the small pus head, anxiously awaiting your assistance. “Don’t yell babe... it’s not that big of a deal, everyone gets them-“ “I’m the number two hero, I’m a model, I cannot have some... some white thing on my face!! What’re people gonna think? That I’m dirty? Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Never before have you seen Hawks so upset about something so small as a pimple. He did pride himself on his looks. He spent hours preening his feathers to have them look their best for the public to keep up his flashy reputation. He knows he looks good. Was this an insecurity seeping through?

“Should I pop it? Will that get rid of it?” He rose his hands up, ready to do the deed himself without hearing an answer. “No Keigo. That’s the worst thing to do. I know it’s tempting but you just need to clean your face and put some ointment on it.” “Can you buy it for me?” It was cute seeing Hawks so insecure about a pimple. Every gets them at least once in their life, it happens, but you’ve never seen someone freak out as much as Hawks over ONE pimple. “Sure babe, I’ll get you some. But you need to calm down, it’s not that bad-“ “I’m so ugly.” “...yes Hawks one pimple makes you the ugliest man in the world.” “...really...?” His wings dropped, looking at his reflection in horror and sadness. “Oh my god no. I was just kidding Keigo.”

“Don’t play with me like that. This is serious.” “And I’m serious when I tell you it’s gonna be okay and you need to calm down.” He still had a frantic look in his golden eyes once you told him to relax. He nodded and continued to eye the blemish in anger, hoping it would vanish if he glared at it enough. “Tell you what babe, let’s put a little bandaid over it with some Neosporin and you can just say got a little scratch from a fight with a villain. Sound good?” “You’re so smart, love bird. How did I get so damn lucky, or were you the lucky one? It’s always debatable huh?”

Once he was patched up and covered, he finished getting ready and kissed you goodbye, leaving through the balcony window. He ascended to the skies, wind bursting against his face and sweeping his hair back. His mind was still on the pimple that graced his handsome face. He brought his hand up and scratched his chin in thought. As soon as he got to his agency, he would look up all the fastest ways to get rid of a pimple.

“Hey love bird, did ya get the ointment?” “Yep, got it right in the cart.” Your eyes cast down to the ointment resting in the temporarily empty cart awaiting to be filled with groceries. “So I was thinking about what we should have for dinner tonight-“ “Can you pick up a few more things?” Your brows furrowed. “Like what?” “Face masks, face scrub, moisturizer, clay masks, oh! Get the charcoal ones too I heard those fuckin’ hurt but work good! Foam wash, some skin oil, sunscreen-“ “Keigo are you serious... baby that’s so much. It’s just one pim-“ “Sorry love bird, I gotta go, just use the black card okay? Love ya!” He hung up...

You did as he instructed and bought a lot of skin care products for him, along with some packs of chicken and some of his Georgia WAX coffee. Once you got home and put everything away, you started on dinner. It was rare if Hawks even got home on time, but you always made him some for him to heat up —if he didn’t get take out. To your surprise he came home quite earlier. “Hey love bird! Did ya get my stuff?” “Yeah, it’s all in the bathroom, babe.” “Hair clips?” “I already had some Bobby pins.” “You’re the best.”

When he emerged from the bathroom he had a charcoal face mask on, the messily long strands of blonde hair usually sticking up pinned down to his head and away from his face. You couldn’t help but laugh at the silly look on his face and the avoidance of his “manly” patch of scruff on his chin. “Were you worried it would take off your little beard?” “.....yes.” “I wish you’d shave, I hate it.” “Wh-What?! I thought you liked it!” “It looks like pubes on your face.” His face paled, well, as much as you could see. “Baby I’m kidding.” “Oh-“ he sighed in relief. “I was about to say there, you weren’t complainin’ when I ate you out last ni-“ “KEIGO!!!” He laughed at your embarrassment.

After dinner Hawks finally took his face mask off... or well he tried to. He was whining like a baby at how much it hurt. “Ow! Ow! Fuck! Why does it hurt so much?!” “You told me to buy it, you knew the charcoal one was gonna hurt you birdbrain!” “It said it would get rid of it fast!” “Who’s fault is that for telling me to buy it!” “It’s the internet’s fault for tellin’ me it worked fast!” Eventually you ripped the mask from his face and stared at all the tiny hairs and unnoticeable pores. “Hey look, it-“ you looked up at him and stopped once you saw his flushed red face. “Babe you okay?” “I can’t feel my face. Do I still have eyebrows?” You burst out laughing. “Yes Kei’.” “What about my scruff?” “Nope, gone.” “Liar.”

Afterwards you both put on some face masks and lathered each other up in some lotion in a very comforting way, not sexually, although he made some very sly comments that teetered on the edge. Against your wishes, you both ate some chips on the couch watching TV with Hawks shouting and throwing chips. “WHAT THE FUCK!!! THEY CANT KILL HIM OFF LIKE THAT!!!!” “BABE ITS A SHOW!” “ITS MY FAVORITE SHOW HE WAS MY FAVORITE CAUSE HE WAS HOT LIKE ME!!!” You rolled your eyes and sighed heavily at his cute childish antics. His eyes moved over to you, a small smile pulling at his lips.

“I love you, birdie.” Your cheeks flushed. “I love you too...” “Ah, after three years of dating, a year and a half of livin’ together, and you’re still embarrassed with me tellin’ you I love you? We’ve done worse ya know~” “Shut up. You’re... never around much anymore, and it always makes me happy when we spend time together, but... confessing your feelings... it’s a different kind of happiness all together. Words can’t explain how much your words mean to me.” His expression turned sullen. “(Y/N)...” “And I know it’s cheesy, it’s stupid, but... it’s how I feel... knowing you still love me even when we’ve been apart for so long... I love you, Keigo. Whether you have a pimple or not.” He frowned, eyes narrowing. “You ruined it.” “Really? Damn. Nothing gets past you does it?” You both shared in playful laughter until the masks were ready to come off.

The next day his skin was clear, surprisingly, perfect and smooth with the exception of his patch of scruff. He had taken a day off work, which was a bit odd but, heroes need a break too I guess? “Mmm... good mornin’ birdie~” His deep morning voice rumbled against your ear, shaking your core and making a small tingle twinge in the dark pits of your stomach. “M-Morning.” His lips littered the side of your jaw and down your shoulder. “Are you ready for our fun day off, love bird?” “Yeah, I’m uh... pretty excited.” “Oh yeah? Well...” His hand slowly slipped down your night gown, trailing his fingers sneakily to the hem while shifting his fingers up. He pressed into your skin to slip a hand into your panties, but you quickly stopped his hand. “Later.” “Whyyyy?” He whined. “Unlike you, I have work.” “Oh don’t worry! I already called ‘em and them ‘em you were spendin’ a day off with me for... personal reasons.” “........” “I-I love you...?”

Hawks still ended up being cock-blocked that morning, but he was awarded some juicy chicken with a side of pancakes. The morning was full of playful banter, loving gazes, and small kisses. “I booked us a massage today.” “Oh really? When’d you do that?” “Yesterday after I called your work.” “They let you have an appointment last notice?” He laughed. “I am the number two hero, and there are some benefits to being the most popular and handsome man in Japan.” “I think Best Jeanist tops you.” “Why must you always be so mean to me, Birdie.” “I’m mean cause I love you.” “That’s not how that works.” “...” “...” “Keigo.” “I know, I know, we won’t talk about it.” He’s playfully mean and teasing because he loves you too.

Later that afternoon you arrive at the spa and everyone is gawking at Hawks. Who wouldn’t? He is the most handsome man in Japan like he said. Oh, let’s not forget the glares some of his fangirls gave you, it never failed to make you a bit uncomfortable. “Hey there, we’ve got an appointment for two, a couples massage.” “Oh! Y-Yes Hawks everything is ready for you!” “Ah! Great! Thank you sweets~” He cooes out and sends the lady a friendly wink as she left. His slung his arm protectively around your waist and he kissed your cheek. You pouted. “It’s unbelievable what you can do with your charm.” “Tell me about it! I get a lotta free stuff; discounts, free reservations. All that stuff, comes with being so popular, ain’t that right?” “Fuck off.”

The massage was wonderful, absolutely amazing. It took a lot of the stress off your shoulders and gave you a bit of time to just relax and think about nothing. Your mind was blank, enjoying the silence and feel of someone else’s hands just rubbing the pain and stress away. There was also a very fashionable and professional facial. It was then you realized it. “Hawks, did you book these massages just to get the facial for your skin?” “Well yeah, how else am I gonna keep the pores away?” “You do realize I bought you like- tons of stuff for home right?” “Yeah! But this is more relaxing dont’cha think?” “Well... yeah but-“ “Just hush and enjoy the massage love bird.”

You were going to kill him. Bury him six feet under, you wouldn’t even attend his funeral. He wouldn’t even have a funeral you’d hide the body so well. The massage and the facial Hawks had booked cost way over $2K dollars. But with Hawks and his grade A flirting and charm, the price was knocking back to just $1.95K on the bright side... he saved you $500. Even though he paid. “Hawks why did you book such an expensive massage!” “Well, I really wanted the facial but I got more for the bundle, so I just went with that and decided to relax! You can’t tell me you didn’t like it, love bird.” “Of course I liked it, but just don’t spend SO MUCH money. All this over one pimple!” His face flushed. “Keep it down-“ you burst into fits of laughter at his embarrassment, you couldn’t help it.

He wore face masks everyday after the pimple incident and lathered up lotion before bed, making him all slick when he cuddled you. It was such a clear insecurity you never knew he would have, it was honestly very cute. At dinner when he finally returned home, he heaved a heavy sigh of exhaustion. “I’m home love bird.” He called out with a smile. You approached him immediately with his little face mask and gently pinned his bangs back, putting the cool moistened mask onto his smooth face. “Oh? What’s this? Givin’ me some special treatment tonight? What’d I do?”

“You’ve been freaking out the past couple days, so I figured I’d help you out just a bit.” A smile spread over your lips as you helped him out of his hero jacket, leading him down the hall to the bedroom. He laid his head against your lap, wings nudging your knees on either side of you while he laid on the bed calmly. “Thank you love bird...” “You don’t need to thank me, Keigo. And just so you know...” You leaned down and gently pecked his lips, giving him a sweet upside down kiss. “I love you cause you’re you, not because of your looks. It doesn’t matter if you’re covered in thousands of scars and pimples or whatever! As long as you’re my birdie...” His wings fluffed up, eyes going wide. “I’ll love you forever, my avian mate.” It was silent until he spoke up in a very flustered tone.

“...” “...” “Can we fuck?” “You ruined it, Keigo. You ruined it.”

#my hero headcanons #my hero academia #hawks headcanons #hawks bnha #pro hero hawks #hawks x reader #silly headcanon #bnha keigo takami #keigo takami #keigo takami x reader

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nobodylivesson · 3 years

Text

Bad Boy(Pt.1)

Fandom : Marvel

Pairing : Peter Parker x Top! Male Reader

Requested? No

»»————>❃<————««

Peter looked outside the window of his classroom cause he was very tired.There has been a lot of cases all over the city and Flash has been more of a dick these days.He didn’t wanted to do anything more than going back to Mr.Stark’s lab to work on stuff

“You alright Peter?” Ned asked to which Peter smiled and was about to say something when he was hit in the head by a big paper ball

Peter sighed and looked behind him to see Flash snickering as he asked “What’s the matter Penis?Got something to say?” making Peter scoff but he looked towards the front just in time to see his teacher enter the class along with someone else

Peter widened his eyes to see an Asian origin boy who was tall(definitely taller than him),his jet black hair was short which were parted in the middle,he looked very sleepy as a small yawn came out of his mouth and was that tattoo poking out of his left hand?

Peter wasn’t sure about that but what he was sure of that this guy looked very “Bad Boy” type

“Okay everyone,settle down.From today onward we would have a new student joining us.He just moved here to New York along with his father.Why don’t you introduce yourself?” Mr.Larson was looking towards the curios students before turning towards the boy who nodded

“Hey,name’s [Y/N] [L/N],moved here from South Korea cause my old man thought it was fucking fun to move in middle of new session.I would make friends with people I like on my own so don’t any of you come running to me to make friends and yeah I’m gay” [Y/N] said with such ease while his eyes were closed as if out of tiredness

Everyone were to shocked after [Y/N]’s introduction and a very awkward silence fell upon the room but Peter looked at [Y/N] with awed eyes as he thought the Asian guy was very brave(and very handsome now after looking closely)

Mr.Larson coughed to break the awkwardness before saying “We-well than Mr.[L/N] why don’t you sit behind Mr.Parker and Mr.Leeds?”

[Y/N] looked around the room before his eyes landed at a two guys with raised hands and walked towards them without saying anything to the teacher

[Y/N] sat down and looked at the boys front of him who were looking at him and he realized they both were deciding if they can greet him or not

“Hey” [Y/N] said and that caused both the boys to jolt in surprised before the one with a darker skin said with a smile “Hey mate, I’m Ned Leeds and welcome to Midtown High School” making [Y/N] nod and look towards Peter

Peter realized he was looking at him for a introduction so with an embarrassed face he says “I’m Peter,Peter Parker” making [Y/N] smirk a little at it causing Peter to go more red

The rest of the class went quite but Peter did tried to take some peeks at the Asian boy behind him who seemed very bored throughout the class

As soon as the class bell rang,[Y/N] just grabbed his stuff and walked out of the class as nobody tried to stop him due to finding him weird.But Peter made a beeline for the Asian boy in impulse as if the boy was a magnet Ned following Peter worriedly

“Hey [Y/N]!!” Peter shouts out of desperation when he saw the said boy almost disappear in the school’s crowd making many heads turn towards him along with [Y/N]’s

Peter with a very red face due to the all the stares directed towards him as he walked towards the now leaning figure of [Y/n] on the lockers while Ned looked at all this as if it was crazy

“How can I help you Parker?” [Y/N] for some reason said it in his accent making a shiver pass through his spine making him totally sure that this guy made him feel something

“I-uh-I know you are new to the uh-city along with the school so I wondering you know needed any help uh-to be shown around?” Peter said while perfectly stammering in the process and he cringing at what he said inside

[Y/N] seemed very blank for a few seconds before a smirk broke into his face as amusement clearly danced in his eyes making Peter’s spider senses intensely scream that this guy is danger but Peter stood rooted at his place

[Y/N] leaned forward and whispered at Peter’s now red ears with his accent again “I will see about that,Peter but thank you for the offer” before walking away from there without sparing a second glance

“Dude what the hell was that?!Didn’t you saw how [Y/N] acted at class-Are you alright?” Ned stopped his talk when he saw the unresponsive Peter looking at the direction [Y/N] went

“You are serious Peter??You’re a lost case now dude” Ned says making Peter whip his head towards his friend

“Don’t say nonsense Ned,I was just.................surprised by what he did” Peter tried his best to make a excuse but Ned looked unimpressed

“MJ would like to hear about this at lunch”

“Don’t you dare Ned!!”

»»————>❃<————««

MJ did really liked hearing about the little interaction between Peter and the new student and soon enough Peter was just trying to ignore his friends teasing about his new fascination with the Asian boy so he can eat

Suddenly the sound of a tray hitting the table brought their attention to the side to see the one and only [Y/N] [L/N] standing there with a smirk

MJ was very surprised along with being curious at the new arrival,Ned was horrified cause he was a little scared of the new boy and Peter? He was very happy that [Y/N] was joining them

“Can I join you guys?” [Y/N] asks and the two boys looked at each other before nodding while MJ looked at him with kind of suspicious

“What is it?” [Y/N] asks with a frown while looking towards MJ who was surprised that the other boy didn’t hide his dislike of her staring at him

Nonetheless she replied back with a serious face “Why do you want to sit with us?I meant I thought you would be more of a loner type after what I heard of your speech?”

[Y/N] liked this girl who was straight forward like him so he with a smirk replies “It seems this school have some pretty stupid and annoying people who don’t understand words,so even after knowing what I said in the class and then again repeating it to other people later,many pests flocked to me.So I thought if I sat with other people they would give me some peace which seems to be working very well.Also these two seemed decent to me when we talked so I wanted to get along with them and Parker did gave a good offer to me?”

“So I can take you around??” Peter suddenly says when he realized what [Y/N] was talking about making [Y/N] answer back with a chuckle “Do entertain me a lot Peter” adding his accent to other boy’s name causing Peter to blush

“Anyway does this make you less suspicious,Miss?” [Y/N] ask with a smile to which MJ smirks while saying “Mary Jane Watson but you can call me MJ and I like ya”

“Same here” [Y/N] says with a smirk as the other two boys looked at each other before Ned slowly says “So,[Y/N] what kind of hobbies do you have?”

“I like playing drums and had played with some bands at clubs back at South Korea.Then I like going out with my bike at weekends to different towns before returning by Sunday night and other weekends having movie marathons,specially on Star Wars and Star Trek when I want to relax” [Y/N] said with a shrug

The other two boys looked at [Y/N] before they both enthusiastically asked “You like Star Wars?!” making [Y/N] chuckled before the boys got in a good talk about the series while MJ rolled her eyes at them but still read the book she was holding with a smile

»»————>❃<————««

“You two are the biggest nerds I ever saw” [Y/N] said while snorting as MJ chuckled as well to it

“Oh shut up,you are a movie geek just like us” Peter snapped back at him

“Touche aren’t we now?But I didn’t know someone could have such fascination with Lego at High school.Don’t mind me I’m not judging just surprised” [Y/N] says with a chuckle to which MJ adds “Well then you haven’t see the worst of these two”

Ned just rolled his eyes as if he was used to all this and Peter just pouted making [Y/N] smile at this a little.[Y/N] is definitely a loner and barely made friends but this group of 3 friends were very fun and relaxing to be around

When he came to New York,he was sure he had to keep a lot of stuff secret and act like someone else(one thing he hates the most) to have a comfortable life but his new friends made him already feel a little comfortable and he feels if he spends more time with them he would be a part of them.Well he still does have some secrets but those are for some other time

MJ was a straightforward just like him,Ned even though very nerdy was a good guy and Peter.......very cute.The smaller boy with his soft curl was making his first day very good

“Hey guys,let me just keep me stuff in the locker and we are good to go.Can’t wait to see some good stuff along with Peter” [Y/N] says to his friend before giving a smile towards Peter who blush at this

[Y/N] slowly walked to his locker and entered the code as he heard whispers all around him of students who were surprised to see [Y/N] the new “Bad Boy” of the school being friends with the supposed loser group

[Y/N] just rolls his eyes and thinks “These blabber mouths only like to gossip and do nothing else” before turning to go back to the group

But when he returned he raised his eyes to see some guys surrounding his new friends and more specifically Peter as the other students ignored this thing like it wasn’t anything new making a frown of annoyance come to his face

“Yo Penis,what the hell is happening between your loser group and [Y/N],huh?!Don’t tell me you infected him with your nerdiness.He should be with our interesting group instead of you losers” Flash said with a smirk while his lackeys laughed behind him but MJ said to this with an annoyed look “But well then he didn’t even talked or sat with you guys till now once”

“He didn’t earlier cause he didn’t knew how cool I’m compared to you all,he would eagerly come to me” Flash said with a knowing smirk as if he was [Y/N] mother making the said boy even more annoyed

But then Peter whispers “The only thing he would notice on you is your is your empty brain” but unluckily Flash hears it and grabs Peter from his collar before saying “WHAT did you say Penis?!”

Peter thought he was gonna be hit but something happened in a very fast moment.One second Flash was holding Peter and the next second Flash was slammed into the lockers by [Y/N]

A heavy silence fell in the hallway as everyone started to understand what happened while Flash himself was finally coming in terms with his situation

“You are Flash or Eugene Thompson,right?Let me get some stuff very straight alright?” [Y/N] said a very dangerously low voice while his eyes became very cold to which Peter shivered a little as he looked at this exchange awestruck along with MJ and Ned

Flash nodded as he tried his best to not shake at [Y/N] coldness so [Y/N] continued “As I said before I make my friends myself so don’t go around blabbering whatever shit you want okay?I don’t like when people start spreading any kind of lies about me around.Second,I willing went to their table cause I didn’t wanted to deal anymore overly fucking friendly people which includes as well,so stop saying shit about these guys”

“H-how can y-you defend these lo-losers?!” Flash finally said after getting some courage but immediately shut up when [Y/N] gave him a deadly glare

“I like them specially Peter cause he or them are not a bratty scaredy cat shitty mouth with no brains who only like to flaunt his family power to do stupid stuff or bride the school to keep yourself out of trouble due to your trashy antics” [Y/N] spatted as Flash’s face just felt open while everyone else were very shocked how openly you said that,Ned was like he was seeing some unreal stuff,MJ was smirking like crazy and Peter just saw you becoming more cool with every word you said

“And if you come near my friends or Peter to bully,be prepared” [Y/N] said and immediately Flash jolted as he saw the Asian boy punch the locker just inches beside his face leaving a big dent on it making the almost shaking Flash shake very violently out of fear

The moment [Y/N] pulled away from Flash a voice shouted “WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?!” and low behold it’s the principal walking towards the two boys through the crowd of students

“You said about my family,right?Just watch and see how I make you get in trouble now after all that” Flash whispers to [Y/N] but before Flash could say anything he was dumbfounded to see the principal widen his eyes in the sight of [Y/N] and immediately speak to the Asian boy in the most polite voice “O-oh hello,Mr.[L/N].I thought it was some kind of trouble but it seems just you and your friends”

“Oh no sir actually it seemed Thompson here had a lot of thing to say to my friend so I just talked him down to his place but I hope you can have a talk with him about it as well as my father wouldn’t be happy after listening to the fact that such a boy was left without being anything by any of the teacher of the school.And please don’t mind about that locker,I kind of hit it in impulse but my father would pay for it back soon” [Y/N] says with smile while tilting his head to the side

“O-Oh of course!!I would make sure Mr.Thompson doesn’t repeat this again.MR.THOMPSON OF TO MY OFFICE RIGHT NOW” the principal said with a polite smile towards [Y/N] before shouting towards Flash who was still dumbfounded about the situation

“Wait sir,I have to say something to him” the principal stops with Flash and looks at [Y/N] who moves closer to Flash before whispering to his ears “I forgot to tell you that my father is a billionaire just like Tony Stark but the only difference is that we keep quite about it and since you were gonna include your father here I decided to add mine as well.Let’s have some great years in the school,shitty brat” making Flash look at [Y/N] who was smirking with a pale face

[Y/N] turned around and sling a arm around Peter’s shoulder before he started walking towards the entrance along with MJ and Ned who were following him quietly while students made way for the group

“OMG mate,THAT WAS SO SICK!!” Ned said with a shout and MJ chuckled before saying “Damn and pretty savage,I just recorded that whole thing in my phone”

“Thanks Ned and you have to gonna send me that video MJ” [Y/N] says and looks at Peter who was blushing for some reason.might be for the hand around his shoulder or the thing which the Asian boy just did for him,[Y/N] didn’t knew

But then Peter said “Thanks for back there,[Y/N]” making a smile come to the Asian boy’s face before got close to Peter’s ears and whispered to them “No problem,I don’t mind showing a jerk his place if it’s for someone as cute as you”

And oh boy,it seemed like Peter was gonna burst in fire

»»————>❃<————««

Hello everyone!!This is my first thing I’m gonna post in Tumblr and also the first series I’m gonna do here.I would later on take request as well but not now as I’m very busy to study for an important exam.But I would take request from next year so in the mean time I would be doing this series which I’m very excited to do.I hope you all enjoyed it

#peter parker #peter parker x male reader #peter parker imagine #x male reader #avengers #avenger x male reader #avenger imagine #avenger

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sgt-paul · 3 years

Text

Paul McCartney Is Still Trying to Figure Out Love – The New York Times Magazine

By David Marchese, Nov. 29, 2020

Paul McCartney, like the rest of us, this year found himself with an unexpected amount of time stuck indoors. Unlike the rest of us — or most of us, anyway — he used that time to record a new album. The pandemic-induced circumstances of its creation may mark “McCartney III” as an outlier in the former Beatle’s catalog, but as its title suggests, it does have precedents: Like “McCartney” (1970) and “McCartney II” (1980), the album, out Dec. 18, was primarily recorded by McCartney alone, with him playing nearly all the instruments and handling all the production. “At no point,” McCartney said, “did I think: I’m making an album. I’d better be serious. This was more like: You’re locked down. You can do whatever the hell you want.” Which was a gas, as always. “What I’m amazed with,” McCartney explained, “is that I’m not fed up with music. Because, strictly speaking, I should have gotten bored years ago.”

It seems to me that working on music by yourself, as you did on the new album, might allow for some insights about what you do and how you do it. So are there aspects of “McCartney III” that represent creative growth to you?

The idea of growing and adding more arrows to your bow is nice, but I’m not sure if I’m interested in it. The thing is, when I look back to “Yesterday,” which was written when I was 21 or something, there’s me talking like a 90-year-old: “Suddenly I’m not half the man I used to be.” Things like that and “Eleanor Rigby” have a kind of wisdom. You would naturally think, OK, as I get older I’m going to get deeper, but I’m not sure that’s true. I think it’s a fact of life that personalities don’t change much. Throughout your life, there you are.

Is there anything different about the nature of your musical gift today at 78 than in 1980 or 1970 or when you first started writing songs?

It’s the story that you’re telling. That changes. When I first said to John, “I’ve written a few songs,” they were simple. My first song was called “I Lost My Little Girl” — four chords. Then we went into the next phase of songwriting, which was talking to our fans. Those were songs like “Thank You Girl,” “Love Me Do,” “Please Please Me.” Then came a rich vein as we got more mature, with things like “Let It Be,” “The Long and Winding Road.” But basically I think it’s all the same, and you get lucky sometimes. Like, “Let It Be” came from a dream where my mother had said that phrase. “Yesterday” came from a dream of a melody. I’m a great believer in dreams. I’m a great rememberer of dreams.

What’s the last interesting dream you had?

Last night’s was pretty good.

What was it?

It was of a sexual nature, so I’m not sure it’s good for the Kids section. Pretty cool, though. Very interesting, dreams of a sexual nature when you’re married. Because your married head is in the dream saying: “Don’t do this. Don’t go here.” And just to let you know, I didn’t. It was still a good dream.

You know, I was conscious of not mentioning the Beatles early in this interview, and you’ve already mentioned them a few times. So let me ask you: The band broke up 50 years ago. You were in it for roughly 10 years. When you’re not doing interviews or playing concerts, how central to your own story of your life are those 10 years from half a century ago?

Very. It was a great group. That’s commonly acknowledged.

Generally speaking.

[Laughs.] It’s like your high school memories — those are my Beatles memories. This is the danger: At a dinner party, I am liable to tell stories about my life, and people already know them. I can see everyone stifling a yawn. But the Beatles are inescapable. My daughter Mary will send me a photo or a text a few times a week: “There you were on an advert” or “I heard you on the radio.” The thing that amazes me now, because of my venerable age, is that I will be with, like, one of New York’s finest dermatologists, and he will be a rabid Beatles fan. All of that amazes me. We were trying to get known, we were trying to do good work and we did it. So to me, it’s all happy memories.

“McCartney III” will come out very close to the 40th anniversary of John Lennon’s death. Has your processing of what happened to him changed over the years?

It’s difficult for me to think about. I rerun the scenario in my head. Very emotional. So much so that I can’t really think about it. It kind of implodes. What can you think about that besides anger, sorrow? Like any bereavement, the only way out is to remember how good it was with John. Because I can’t get over the senseless act. I can’t think about it. I’m sure it’s some form of denial. But denial is the only way that I can deal with it. Having said that, of course I do think about it, and it’s horrible. You do things to help yourself out of it. I did an interview with Sean, his son. That was nice — to talk about how cool John was and fill in little gaps in his knowledge. So it’s little things that I am able to do, but I know that none of them can get over the hill and make it OK. But you know, after he was killed, he was taken to Frank Campbell’s funeral parlor in New York. I’m often passing that. I never pass it without saying: “All right, John. Hi, John.”

And how about your perspective on the work you did together? Has that changed?

I always thought it was good. I still think it’s good. Sometimes I had to reassure him that it was good. I remember one time he said to me: “What are they going to think of me when I’m dead? Am I going to be remembered?” I felt like the older brother, even though he was older than me. I said: “John, listen to me. You are going to be so remembered. You are so [expletive] great that there’s no way that this disappears.” I guess that was a moment of insecurity on his part. He straightened me up on other occasions. It was a great collaboration. I can’t think of any better collaboration, and there have been millions. I feel very lucky. We happened upon each other in Liverpool through a friend of mine, Ivan Vaughan. Ivan said, “I think you’d like this mate of mine.” Everyone’s lives have magic, but that guy putting me and John together and then George getting on a bus — an awful lot of coincidences had to happen to make the Beatles.

People always ask you about John. I’ve noticed they rarely ask about George, who of course also died relatively young.

John is probably the one in the group you would remember, but the circumstances of his death were particularly harrowing. When you die horrifically, you’re remembered more. But I like your point, which is: What about George? I often think of George because he was my little buddy. I was thinking the other day of my hitchhiking bursts. This was before the Beatles. I suddenly was keen on hitchhiking, so I sold this idea to George and then John.

I know this memory. You and George hitchhiked to Paignton.

Yeah, Exeter and Paignton. We did that, and then I also hitchhiked with John. He and I got as far as Paris. What I was thinking about was — it’s interesting how I was the instigator. Neither of them came to me and said, “Should we go hitchhiking?” It was me, like, “I’ve got this great idea.”

Why is that interesting?

My theory is that attitude followed us into our recording career. Everyone was hanging out in the sticks, and I used to ring them up and say, “Guys, it’s time for an album.” Then we’d all come in, and they’d all be grumbling. “He’s making us work.” We used to laugh about it. So the same way I instigated the hitchhiking holidays, I would put forward ideas like, “It’s time to make an album.” I don’t remember Ringo, George or John ever ringing me up and saying that.

How strange is it to share an idle recollection from your youth, as you just did with that hitchhiking story, and then have the person to whom you’re sharing it — in this case, me — know the memory? It seems as though it would be weird.

It’s quite annoying, David. It’s like people at dinner yawning when I’m telling stories. This keeps happening to me.

I even know the details. You and George slept on the beach.

That’s right.

Some Salvation Army girls kept you warm.

Yes.

Then at some point you sat on a car battery and zapped your ass?

That was George who did that! I have a very clear recollection. He showed me the scar. Let’s set the record straight: It was George’s ass, and it was a burn the exact shape of a zip from his jeans.

Do you remember the last thing George said to you?

We said silly things. We were in New York before he went to Los Angeles to die, and they were silly but important to me. And, I think, important to him. We were sitting there, and I was holding his hand, and it occurred to me — I’ve never told this — I don’t want to hold George’s hand. You don’t hold your mate’s hands. I mean, we didn’t anyway. And I remember he was getting a bit annoyed at having to travel all the time — chasing a cure. He’d gone to Geneva to see what they could do. Then he came to a special clinic in New York to see what they could do. Then the thought was to go to L.A. and see what they could do. He was sort of getting a bit, “Can’t we just stay in one place?” And I said: “Yes, Speke Hall. Let’s go to Speke Hall.” That was one of the last things we said to each other, knowing that he would be the only person in the room who would know what Speke Hall was. You probably know what the hell it is.

Yep.

I can’t amaze you with anything! Anyway, the nice thing for me when I was holding George’s hands, he looked at me, and there was a smile.

How many good Beatles stories are there left to tell that haven’t been told?

There are millions. Sometimes the reason is that they’re too private, and I don’t want to go gossiping. But the main stories do get told and told again.

Can you think of one now that you haven’t told before?

Hmm. I will rake through the embers. Oh, I’ll tell you one! I thought of one this morning. It’s pretty good. I don’t think I’ve told it. You’re going to have to say in the article, “I forced this out of him,” because it’s a bit telling-out-of-school.

I am hereby twisting your arm.

So when we did the album “Abbey Road,” the photographer was set up and taking the pictures that ended up as the album cover. Linda was also there taking incidental pictures. She has some that are of us — I think it was all four of us — sitting on the steps of Abbey Road studios, taking a break from the session, and I’m in quite earnest conversation with John. This morning I thought, I remember why. John’s accountants had rung my accountants and said: “Someone’s got to tell John he’s got to fill in his tax returns. He’s not doing it.” So I was trying to say to him, “Listen, man, you’ve got to do this.” I was trying to give him the sensible advice on not getting busted for not doing your taxes. That’s why I looked so earnest. I don’t think I’ve told that story before.

Tax filings — that’s some deep arcana.

I have dredged the barrel.

I know that your goal with making music is to do something that pleases yourself. What’s most pleasing to you on the new album?

I’m very happy with “Women and Wives.” I’ve been reading a book about Lead Belly. I was looking at his life and thinking about the blues scene of that day. I love that tone of voice and energy and style. So I was sitting at my piano, and I’m thinking about Huddie Ledbetter, and I started noodling around in the key of D minor, and this thing came to me. “Hear me women and wives” — in a vocal tone like what I imagine a blues singer might make. I was taking clues from Lead Belly, from the universe, from blues. And why I’m pleased with it is because the lyrics are pretty good advice. It’s advice I wouldn’t mind getting myself.

There’s a song on “McCartney III,” “Pretty Boys,” that is kind of unusual for you in how the music is sort of unassuming but the lyrics have an almost sinister edge. What inspired that one?

I’ll tell you exactly. I’ve been photographed by many photographers through the years. And when you get down to London, doing sessions with people like David Bailey, they can get pretty energetic in the studio. It’s like “Blow-Up,” [the director Michelangelo Antonioni’s 1966 film thriller about a fashion photographer, thought to be loosely based on David Bailey] you know? “Give it to me! [Expletive] the lens!” And it’s like: “What? No, I’m not going to.” But I understand why they’re doing that. They’re that kind of artist. So you allow it. Certain photographers — they tend to be very good photographers, by the way — can be totally out of line in the studio. So “Pretty Boys” is about male models. And going around New York or London, you see the lines of bicycles for hire. It struck me that they’re like models, there to be used. It’s most unfortunate.

“Lavatory Lil” is another song I was curious about. That’s quite a title.

“Lavatory Lil” is a parody of someone I didn’t like. Someone I was working with who turned out to be a bit of a baddie. I thought things were great; it turned nasty. So I made up the character Lavatory Lil and remembered some of the things that had gone on and put them in the song. I don’t need to be more specific than that. I will never divulge who it was.

I have another bigger-picture question. In your experience, how is the love in a marriage different at different stages of your life and in different marriages?

I don’t think it’s different. It’s always a splendid puzzle. Even though I write love songs, I don’t think I know what’s going on. It would be great if it was smooth and wonderful all the time, but you get pockets of that, and sometimes it’s — you could be annoying. To Nancy I’m pretty complex, with everything I’ve been through.

In what ways?

I’m some poor working-class kid from Liverpool. I’ve done music all my life. I’ve had huge success, and people often try to do what I want, so you get a false feeling of omnipotence. All that together makes a complex person. We’re all complex. Well, maybe I’m more complex than other people because of coming from poverty.

And how do you think about money these days?

It has obviously changed. What has stayed the same is the central core. When I was in Liverpool as a kid, I used to listen to people’s conversations. I remember a couple of women going on about money: “Ah, me and my husband, we’re always arguing about money.” And I remember thinking very consciously, “OK, I’ll solve that; I will try to get money.” That set me off on the “Let’s not have too many problems with money” trail. What happened also was, not having much money, when anything came into the house, it was important. It was important when my weekly comic was delivered. Or my penpal — I had a penpal in Spain, Rodrigo — when his letter came through, that was a big event. When they had giveaways in comics with little trinkets, I kept them all. Some people would say that’s a hoarding instinct, but not having anything when I was a kid has stuck with me as far as money. You know, I’m kind of crazy. My wife is not. She knows you can get rid of things you don’t need.

You’re a hoarder?

I’m a keeper. If I go somewhere and I get whatever I bought in a nice bag, I will want to keep the bag. My rationale is that I might want to put my sandwiches in it tomorrow. Whereas Nancy says, “We’ll get another bag.” In that way, my attitude toward money hasn’t changed that much. It’s the same instinct to preserve. One of the great things now about money is what you can do with it. Family and friends, if they have any medical problem, I can just say, “I’ll help.” The nicest thing about having money is you can help people with it.

Something that has been a constant for you musically is your ability to keep coming up with melodies. It’s there on the new album — the melodies all flow. Is your facility for writing a catchy melody ever an obstacle to getting the songs to be more than just catchy? Because a good tune by itself is not always enough to make a good song. “Bip Bop” would be an example of that. Do you know what I’m saying?

No, I know. “Bip Bop” is not lyrically stunning. I was always embarrassed about that song. Literally, it goes, “Bip Bop / take your bottom dollar.” It’s inconsequential. But I mentioned that to a friend, a producer, a few years ago, and he said, “That’s my favorite song of yours.” So you don’t know what people like. It’s enough if I like it and enjoyed putting it on record and don’t particularly want to think of any more lyrics. I don’t want to sweat it. Sometimes maybe it would be better if I sweated it. Once or twice I tried to sweat it, and I hated it. It’s like, What are you doing this for?

Sixty-something years into writing songs, do you feel any closer to knowing where melodies come from?

No. There is something with my ability to write music that I don’t think I’m necessarily responsible for. It just seems to come easier to me — touch wood — than it does to some people. That’s it. I’m a fortunate man.

#paul mccartney #old paul #grandpaul #*m #(the start of the interview was pretty worrying (with him bringing up yesterday like after 5 seconds) but actually?#it turned out to be a decent one)#favourite bit hands down paul's dirty dreams. DUDE... he cannot keep it in his pants even when he is in his dreams #well actually he said he did but lmao #but yeah many other great bits. ''i'm a keeper'' ... loved that one #the complex man rant #and the john and george bits #him being the instigator #!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i love this guy :)

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stay-mon-army · 3 years

Text

The Soccer Incident

Warnings: A couple swears

Word Count: 2,534 words

Pairing: Junhoe x female!reader

Koo Junhoe was a contradiction. He was an anomaly in the usual order of things, and everyone seemed to love him for it. He was one of the most popular people in his university because he didn’t quite fit into any one category. He was a physical education major, he was the star player on the lacrosse team, the most sought after male player in the intramural soccer club on campus, he was arguably the most attractive jock in the whole school, and he was the reason there was a Jiu Jitsu club on campus. You would think hearing all of these accomplishments that he was a total meat head jock- there’s no way any man this invested in physical activity could ever be interested in more stationary, softer intellects.

However, Junhoe was also a creative writing minor. He was a part of a small writers group that he had compiled of poetry writers (like him) and fiction writers (a passion he deeply admires but didn’t have the same calling for). He had a few poems published in the school’s English journal, and was never caught without his leather bound notebook for his poetry.

Junhoe was one of the most versatile students in his university- but this never seemed to cross Junhoe’s mind. He didn’t see any reason why people would expect anything else from him. Why were people always surprised when they learned that the star lacrosse player was also a poet? Why were his friends in Jiu Jitsu club always laughing when they saw him scribbling away in his journal before meeting started instead of stretching like the rest of them?

Not everyone judged Junhoe so harshly, and there’s no way he could miss the way girls watched him when he walked around campus. Like he could ever be oblivious when the girls in his writing group created love interests that could almost be his doppelganger. Junhoe’s gay-dar was also almost flawless- it wasn’t just the girls that gave him heart eyes in passing.

However, there was one girl that totally ignored Junhoe— (Y/N) was the conundrum that Junhoe couldn’t figure out. He knew she liked boys- he’d seen her at parties with boyfriends, but she didn’t seem to notice him at all. He’d only tried to talk to her once, and she’d been kind, but she’d been late to class and had to rush off. Of course, it was just Junhoe’s luck that the only girl that Junhoe had eyes for was also the one who looked right through him.

He didn’t know much about her— it wasn’t like he was some stalker. He did know, however, that she was also a creative writing minor and was a junior- just like Junhoe. They had previously been in two classes together, which was how she had managed to catch his eye. She would come to class either dressed to the nines- perfectly designed outfits that matched all the way to the jewelry- or looking like she’d just rolled out of bed- her hair in a messy bun, a pair of sweats baggy and hanging from her waist haphazardly. To him, she always looked beautiful.

The thing that really won his heart, though, wasn’t her look or their similarities; it was the way that she always gave him blunt, brutally honest feedback on his pieces. Most of their others in his creative writing classes either don’t know enough to give good feedback, or were so infatuated with him that they gave nothing but blind praise for everything he wrote. (Y/N) was the only person except the Professor who could give advice that Junhoe could use— ideas that sparked Junhoe’s mind to make even better, deeper poems that expressed exactly what he meant.

Her straightforward nature had won him over, but was also the thing that stopped him from shooting his shot. Nothing scared him quite like the idea of being rejected by her— he could imagine it now and it gave him chills. His mind paints the picture without his consent; asking her out the next time they pass, her blank face staring before it morphs into one of pity, her soft voice explaining she’s not interested, her turning away— scurrying off before he can make it more awkward.

No, he’s perfectly fine admiring from afar. It hurt less; he’d rather her not know he exists than to be another weird boy hitting on a classmate he barely knows.

Fate seemed to have other plans for Junhoe, however. Or, more accurately, his best friend, who happens to run the intramural club. He had shown up slightly early for the club meeting that day and was surprised to see Donghyuk with (Y/N) and her best friend, (Y/BF/N), who was the best female player on the intramural team. He really was contemplating running in the opposite direction as quickly as he could, but he was a second too slow.

“Yo, Jun, come here!” Donghyuk waves him over, a wide grin on his face, knowing exactly what he was doing to the poor man.

With a deep breath and a lot of internal cursing of Donghyuk’s existence, he slowly jogged towards the trio.

“Dong, what’s up, man?” Junhoe had no idea what was coming out of his mouth, or why he suddenly sounded like some of the more asshole boys in his sports classes, but he was too focused on remembering to breathe and not trip to care much. Donghyuk’s eyebrows bounce at the greeting, obviously making the same judgement that Junhoe did, before nodding at him, playing it off.

“You know (Y/B/F/N),” Donghyuk gestures to the two women beside him. “This is her best friend, (Y/N). She’s going to take up Miyoung’s spot while her wrist heals.”

Junhoe nods at (Y/B/F/N), who smiles at him. He doesn’t know where he gains the confidence, but he looks directly at you and says, “Don’t we have a creative writing class together?” The automatic look of confusion makes Junhoe’s heart freeze, then instantly knock impossibly fast against his rib cage.

But then your eyes burst with realization, a huge grin splitting your face. “You mean Dr. Scott’s class? God, I’m barely alive for that class; how are you awake enough that early to know the other kids in that class?” You were laughing with him— though it took him a second to laugh along because wow you were having a conversation.

“I just really like the class— I zone out in most other classes.” It wasn’t a lie, he just didn’t point out you were his favorite part of the class. All his other writing classes over the semesters without you had been almost torture with all the fawning, ass-kissing girls.

“Yeah, Jun is actually a pretty shit student because he’d rather write poems and join every sports club on campus than do his damn homework.” Donghyuk nudges Junhoe, laughing as Junhoe balks at his words.

“Well his poems are good so it must pay off a little! I’ll be the judge today if the same can be said about his sport skills.” You chuckle, and try to ignore the look that (Y/B/F/N) is shooting you that Junhoe thankfully doesn’t catch.

Junhoe is too busy having to physically restrain himself from fawning over your praise. Luckily your friend jumped in just before he could combust with the effort.

“We should go get ready. Let’s go stretch under the shade over there, (Y/N)!” She loops her arm around your bicep, lightly tugging you away from the boys. You wave at them, looking simultaneously absolutely adorable and like you were afraid your friend would kill you when you reached the aforementioned shade.

When you finally turned to look at (Y/B/F/N), Donghyuk whacks Junhoe’s bicep hard, making him wince and rub the abused spot. “Make a move already, idiot. Are you blind, or just stupid? Did someone put you in a particularly tight chokehold recently?”

“Wh-what?” Well that told Donghyuk all he needed to know and he sighed as he rubbed his face.

“She likes you too, dipshit. Just ask her out already.” Junhoe stared at his best friend for a solid minute before he burst out laughing.

His eyes welled with tears as he gasped around peals of laughter, holding his ribs as his sides spasmed from the force of his laughter. He couldn’t believe Donghyuk had said that when he’d just done so much to try not to seem like a crazy person.

“You’re hopeless, I swear.” Donghyuk shakes his head, leaving Junhoe’s still cackling figure to go greet a couple other students in the club who had arrived.

Although Junhoe is able to physically calm himself down and begin to stretch for the game, his mind wouldn’t stop thinking of Donghyuk’s words, and he repeatedly had to stop himself from looking over his shoulder at you to see if you were looking at him too. Finally Donghyuk called everyone to the side of the field to split into teams.

Just Junhoe’s luck that he was on the opposite team as you. He had wanted to work with you to win— the idea of you two playing soccer together and beating the other team made his heart race in a way that confused him. It was just a little passing crush on you, why was he so invested in doing things with you?

Get yourself together, Junhoe, and get your ass out there.

He took a deep breath and huddled up with his team, splitting up positions and delegating who would play when, since there were so many members on both teams that they would change out players. Junhoe was to be the first member in the goal, which he wasn’t ecstatic about, but he accepted it with a grin. He could play any position just as well as the next person, so he knew he could keep the goal safe from the other team. He really would’ve preferred to be out on the field to show off his skills though—especially with you out there. You had pulled your hair from your face and you had shed the light jacket you had on previously to show off a band t-shirt, a group he absolutely adored to listen to while writing that he never would have expected you to like as well.

As he took his place in the goal at their end of the field, he watched you stand next to your friend, laughing at something she said, pushing her lightly. He couldn’t help but smile wide at how happy you looked—totally at ease despite the fact you were about to play soccer with a group that you barely knew.

Donghyuk shouted out a “start game” from his position on the sidelines (he was sitting out this first half, but he would later take Junhoe’s position, as he preferred to stay on the side, watching the action instead of running around). Junhoe’s team was a surprisingly good mixture of members; while not the best players, they seemed to work together beautifully today, and Junhoe’s job was mind-numbingly easy.

The ball almost never came to their side of the field, except for a handful of close calls that Junhoe quickly dispatched with calculated ease. His team was winning 3-0 with only about 10 minutes left for this half before they switched out the members. Hearing this minute warning seemed to light a newfound fire under your ass, however, and you suddenly seemed to learn exactly how to play soccer like a pro. Your goalkeeper had kicked the ball at you after saving it from another goal. Seemingly in a matter of seconds you were one with the soccer ball as you effortlessly handled it all the way across the field to his goal until you were only a few feet from him. You made eye contact and he could see the fire and drive in your eyes for a goal, and he made a conscious decision in that second to let you make the goal. He would let the ball through—what was one small goal anyway, and it was only an intramural game.

However, his plans changed quickly when you punted the ball—hard. Instead of going into the goal cleanly, like he was expecting, it went straight for his forehead, knocking his head back with a sharp thwack sound. He fell to the ground with a harsh groan, his hands coming up to rest on his face as the world spun and warped, pain spreading across his whole head. He lay on his back, cradling his head in his hands, as he grunted out swears that would make his mother smack him harder than the soccer ball had.

“Oh my god, are you alright? Jesus, I’m so so sorry.” Your voice was high and anxious, and racing closer to him. He moved his hands and opened his eyes, squinting against the harsh sunlight to see your face looking down at him. You were sweaty from all the running, and your hair was starting to fall back into your face, but he still couldn’t help smiling.

“God, you’re beautiful, (Y/N).” He didn’t know what that ball did to his head, but he didn’t really mind the sudden courage it gave him.

Your face dropped into shock before you burst out into glorious laughter, your face lighting up into the widest and most adorable smile Junhoe had ever seen.

“You’re crazy, Junhoe.” You brush a strand on his hair from his face before pressing a hand softly to his cheek. He closes his eyes and leans into the touch softly. “No, no, don’t close your eyes. We don’t know if you have a concussion yet.”

His eyes flutter open and look at you with soft eyes. He gathers the last bit of pain-drunk courage to blurt out, “Go on a date with me?”

You nod, looking down at his splayed figure. “It is the least I can do after almost taking your head off with a soccer ball.”

“Good kick, by the way.”

You both laugh at that as you stand, slowly taking his hands and helping him to his feet as well. He winces and places the heel of his hand between his eyebrows, where the most pain is currently radiating.

“Let’s get you an icepack.” You chuckle, putting his arm around your shoulder and walking him towards the nurse’s office. Donghyuk didn’t seem to even ask if Junhoe was alright, he was well aware that he would be fine with some rest and ice. Instead, he just jumped into his place with an accomplished grin on his face, starting the game right back up.

You didn’t need to help Junhoe all the way to the nurse, or stay with him for the 20 minutes he sat there with an icepack to his forehead, but the conversation you had was funny and sweet. And truth be told, you had noticed Junhoe many times in the past and had been drawn to him. You were more than happy for any excuse to interact with him outside of class. And thanks to this upcoming date, you would finally get the chance to get to know him that much better.

#koo junhoe imagine #ikon imagine #ikon #koo junhoe #ikon imagines #koo junhoe imagines #ikon ju ne #ikon june #ikon june imagine #ikon june imagines #ikon fluff

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gruviafan-forever · 3 years

Text

GRUVIA WEEK- DAY III

"DISCOVERY"

When Gray had reported the drone issues to Erza and Mr Dreyar, the agency was in fix about who could be going to this extent to know about one of their actor's personal lives.

"Looks like there are still some reporters who believe that photos stuff,"

Makarov said while rubbing his forehead.

"But Master didn't we announce it's just a hoax that should have calmed everyone down" Erza reasoned.

"That's not the case, Erza. It's more like these people are working to uncover Gray's secret and create some scandalous sensations"

Makarov said and tried calling his grandson, Laxus Dreyar who works in the police department.

After informing Laxus, Makarov seemed to have calmed down. That's when Erza informed Gray's decision to unravel his marriage.

"It's high time. However, it's a good decision" Makarov said with a smile.

He knew how hard Gray has worked for these four years to shape his career.

"Let's hope it goes accordingly. Tell Mr Jason to come and meet me. He needs to prepare an article about this and publish it the very next day of the award function on Sorceress Weekly. Also, I need to talk with Gray tomorrow, do inform him, Erza" Makarov informed.

"Yes Master," Erza said with a smile.

NEXT MORNING

Gray got ready for the upcoming event and told her he could come late at night so that they don't wait for him for dinner.

"Yes, Gray-sama. Today I was planning to take Yuki to the park so that she could play with kids of her age. But after what happened yesterday, I decided not to," Juvia said and was adjusting Gray's coat.

Gray began to ponder before he spoke again, "I know it's not right to keep her inside the house and deny her playing freedom. But the situation calls for it, we have to bear for a few more days, Juvia."

He said confidently and kissed her forehead.

It was still 9 AM and Yuki was still fast asleep. So the couple had time for themselves to enjoy their company.

"Sure Gray-sama. You take care. Don't go getting rigid suddenly. Be smiling and welcome your fans warmly. It's because of them you have gained this popularity, remember that Gray-sama."

Juvia lectured her husband like every time any event comes up.

"Yes, madam"

Gray rolled his eyes and smiled at the end. At times, she treated him like a child which he secretly liked.

"Good boy, now get going. I have a lot of chores to do today. If possible, can we go to the supermarket? They're few things which we need to purchase." Juvia consulted him.

Gray agreed and told them to be wary of their surroundings.

"Don't let Yuki wander off on her own. She's such a ball of energy. I know she is a bit difficult to control but look after her. I will take my leave, bye, wifey."

Gray leaned forward to kiss her lips and got one in return.

After bidding bye to her husband, Juvia got freshened up to kick start her day before her daughter woke up.

Soon Gray reached the mentioned location, he was escorted by his manager through the back exit.

"Good morning, Erza"

"Happy morning, Gray. How's Juvia and Yuki doing?"

"Oh, they are doing great. Did Mr Dreyar say anything about the issue?" Gray questioned her.

"Yeah… he wants to meet you after this event. So get ready for that."

Erza informed them and soon they reached the main cabin where every celebrity under the Fairy Tail banner was present.

They greeted each other before Gray went to his friend, Natsu Dragneel and his girlfriend, Lucy Heartfilia.

They bumped their fist and the first thing Natsu asked about was Yuki and Juvia.

Almost every single member of Fairy Tail knew about him so it was not a piece of surprise news for them.

"They are good. Juvia's been calling you two for dinner. Why don't you come by one day? And you too, Erza. Come with your boyfriend."

Gray teased the red-haired woman who had the courtesy to blush on hearing about her love interest.

"Sure, we will come by, once we get to enjoy some free time,"

Natsu said and Lucy nodded in agreement.

That's when Gajeel decided to enter their group. It had been three years since he joined Fairy Tail after his Phantom Band got disbanded.

It was Juvia who proposed Gajeel join this big agency. Gray had spoken about this to Mr Dreyar on his girlfriend's insistence.

Mr Dreyar readily agreed after seeing his performance, ever since, then, Gajeel had been performing for this agency.

His popularity soared after his debut. Gajeel was very much grateful to both Gray and Juvia.

Gajeel had insisted Juvia continue being his lyricist but she denied it as the agency had appointed their best Lyricist, Levy McGarden to aid her best friend.

Juvia knew Gajeel was smitten by her and didn't have the heart to the third wheel behind them.

Moreover, things happened which made her quit the part-time job which she was doing.

"Yo guys, it's been a long since I saw you all in existence. How's everything going on?"

Gajeel greeted and began with the conversation.

Gray greeted him back and soon everyone started to discuss the event and its aftermath.

It had been a month since Gray and Juvia had levelled up their relationship.

Gray's first tv drama shooting has been wrapped up. In a few more episodes, the drama reaches its conclusion.

For now, Gray enjoyed his free time before the shooting for the next drama commences.

The last two days were hectic for both of them as the agency had ordered Gray to move out of that lodging apartment to other high society flats which they had arranged for him.

This move was taken to avoid fans and reporters gathering around his place and prevented them from invading his privacy.

Juvia was sad hearing this news as now she will be left alone in his apartment.

Even her best friend had moved out to give privacy to her and Gray, same was the case with Gray, Natsu had moved out a couple of months as soon as he signed up for his first tv series.

Juvia tried to remain bold and not to tear up but nothing could get past Gray's eyes.

"Juvia"

Gray pouted, she was not paying attention to him and was just staring blankly at his shirt.

To remove her from trance, Gray hugged her from behind which startled her.

"Gray-sama"

"Oi!! What's with the long face? I have never seen you thinking like this. Are you perhaps trying to ditch me?" Gray teased her and kissed her neck.

Juvia turned around and hit his chest, "Don't joke like that. You know how much I love you. Stupid Gray"

Juvia sounded serious especially when he heard her calling him 'Gray'.

She never called him by name without a suffix. That's when he noticed she was crying.

Gray began to fidget and cupped her face, "Hey dear, what happened? Why are you crying?" He asked her worriedly.

Juvia began to wipe her tears off but it never stopped until she told him the reason.

"I feel we will stay apart, Gray-sama, emotionally too. I'm scared that I will be left all alone once again in my life. Of course, I'm being clingy on you but I couldn't help it."

She conveyed her feelings and hugged her lover tightly.

Gray felt happy that she opened up her fear. Even he didn't want to move away from her and from the morning was thinking of asking her to move in with me as his fiancee.

Yes, Gray wanted to marry her and have a lovely life with her. He knew from these 7 months of dating, that she was born for him and he for her.

He was going to propose to her tonight but it looks like the plan needs to be executed at the moment to make her feel assured of their relationship.

"Juvia, I.."

Before Gray could say anything, Juvia fell unconscious in his arms. He tried to wake her up but it was futile.

He carried her to the bedroom and went out to call a doctor from a nearby clinic.

Once the doctor had come and checked her up, Gray felt relief that she was alright and nothing to worry about except...

"WHAT??" Gray shrieked.

"Yes, Mr Fullbuster. Your girlfriend is pregnant. Congratulations, once Juvia wakes up, give her the medicine and go and visit the gynaecologist, they will guide you from there."

The doctor left him after advising him how to take care of a pregnant woman.

Gray couldn't believe what was happening at the moment. He had mixtures of thoughts and emotions.

But predominantly, it was happiness. He is going to be a father, that too really soon. He was going to lead a happy life with his beloved.

Soon, he was going to have a family which he and Juvia were denied from starting, this brought him happy tears and thanked the Gods for such a second chance.

Now all he hoped for was Juvia to feel the same as him.

After 30 minutes, Juvia woke up from her sleep, the first thing she saw was Gray resting beside her.

Juvia smiled at him and ruffled his hairs and that's when she noticed the ring on her finger.

She couldn't believe her eyes and closed her mouth with her palms to avoid shouting.

Slowly, Gray woke up and saw his girlfriend's surprised expression which brought a smile to his face.

"Well, calm down, Juvia"

Hearing his voice, Juvia pulled him into a hug and shouted 'yes'.

Gray chuckled, " I didn't even ask you yet"

Juvia began rubbing her face against his and kissed his forehead,

"I will marry you, Gray-sama."

Gray kissed her lips, "I was actually planning to do it tonight after dinner but here, I'm asking you 'Will you marry me?' "

"1000 times Yes… I'm waiting to live my life with you, Gray-sama…"

"So do I, dear"

Gray kissed her again.

Once their adrenaline has calmed down, Gray slowly broke the news.

"You know what, I found out something. Can you take a guess?"

Gray asked her while squeezing her palms.

Juvia wondered what it could be and accepted her defeat. Now she was curious what this could be.

"We are going to be parents. You are pregnant, Juvia. You are gonna be mama and I'm gonna be papa."

He said with a big smile and kissed her palm.

Then, he told her everything from the moment she fainted to till doctors departure.

Juvia was shedding happy tears and caressing her flat tummy for now. She was going to be a mother, she was going to have her own family now which she longed for since her childhood.

"Are you happy, Gray-sama?"

She wanted to know his feelings.

"My happiness goes beyond this world. I'm happy that we are gonna start be a family together. Juvia, let's get married tomorrow."

Gray shared his piece of mind.

"Thank you for sharing the same feeling as mine, Gray-sama. I love you a lot." Juvia said earnestly.

The very next day, they got their marriage registered in an office. Gray casually informed the recent events of his life to friends and Mr Dreyar.

They were shell shocked yet wished them both happiness enough for their life ahead.

That's when Mr Dreyar had told him to hide this news from the public as Gray was still a budding artist and this could hamper this growth.

Juvia agreed and supported this decision and even convinced Gray to agree with this. It's after sorting out these issues they finally went to their new home.

#gruvia #gruviaweek #gruvia week 2021 #gruvia week

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dreamescapeswriting · 4 years

Text

BTS Reaction || He Forgets Your Birthday

A/N: I wanted to put this out on my birthday lmao as I know how it feels to get your birthday forgotten, but I also want to say I am working my way through my request list!! Happy Birthday to any birthday twins I have!!

Seokjin:

Jin was out on tour so it was no surprise to you that he did forget that it was your birthday, you weren't mad at him and you weren't about to be that girlfriend that caused a fight over something so small and stupid, you spent the day in your shared apartment watching Disney Movies and ordering take out for yourself, logging onto your social media to say thank you to family members who had wished you a happy day over the internet, Jin hadn't noticed anything different over their twitter feed until he saw what Army had trending, #HappyBirthdayY/N!, he groaned at the thought of forgetting something so important and made a plan to make things right, he knew there was no show tonight so he went back to the hotel to get a skype call ready, setting up a meal around the computer with candles, and asking one of the staff members to go and get some balloons for you. Once everything was set up perfectly he called your skype name and waited, you answered after four rings with a smile on your face, the smiling fading as you saw Jin there, he looked tired and he looked like he'd been crying.

"Jin!" You cried out, sitting up and pausing the movie you were on, he smiled sadly as you and you smiled back at him.

"Why aren't you asleep, it's late." You said to him but he ignored you, shaking his head and pointing out the balloons around him.

"I wanted to wish my baby a happy birthday, I know I forgot and I am so sorry, when I'm back from tour we'll go out to a meal, and I'll take you shopping." You chuckled shaking your head at him and took a blanket from the sofa and wrapped it around yourself.

"You're busy Jinnie, I don't blame you for forgetting, but you're here now and that's all I want." You settled back down against the sofa and he smiled at you,

"I don't know what I did to deserve you, but I love you." He said with a smile, taking his food over to the bed and getting comfy and ready to watch the rest of the movie you were watching before he joined you.

"I miss you Jinnie." You said not tearing your eyes away from the TV, you knew he loved his job and you loved his job, without it you wouldn't have met, but you did miss him,

"We'll fly you out next week, we can spend the weekend together then however long you want to stay." He said with a yawn, you giggled at how tired he was but agreed.

"I'd love that."

Yoongi:

"Happy birthday." Namjoon said as you walked through the halls of the studio building, you smiled at him and hugged him.

"Thanks Joonie." He handed you a gift bag and smiled at you, pointing at the card that was inside and hugging you again, he was in a rush to get back to writing since the comeback was closer than ever.

"Card first, then you can open your gifts." He teased before doing a small jog down the hallway, you continued walking to the genuis stuido and punched in the date for the password, easy enough to remember since it was the day you and Yoongi first met, though he told people it was a random set of numbers. You put the gift bag down on the sofa, and took Yoongi his lunch, he smiled at you and continued creating a beat on his screen, you set it up for him and went over to the sofa to sit down and open the card. Inside almost made you cry, not only had the rest of the boys signed the card but Namjoon had somehow gotten everyone on the staff team to sign it, and even Bang PD had signed the bottom, you smiled and took out the presents, opening them up and making mental notes to thank each of them later. Namjoon had gotten you some new stationary you'd been eyeing up when you went out shopping together, Hoseok had gotten you a new travel mug, Jungkook got you an overnight bag with a note telling you to keep it at the studio with Yoongi's things so you could be comfortable during the late nights, Taehyung got you a new oversized disney hoodie, Jin got you a cook book playfully having a note inside that your cooking was bad, and Jimin had gotten you tickets to your favourite band, you looked up from your phone after sending out a mass thank you text and saw Yoongi staring inside of the card, tears in his eyes.

"Baby I'm so sorry," You frowned at him and he shook his head putting the card down and coming over to your side, you looked at him and he was letting out silent tears, this wasn't like him at all.

"Yoongi?" You questioned concerned as to why he was crying in front of you.

"I forgot your birthday, I'm so sorry." You shook your head, taking hold of his hands and making him look at you, you understood he was busy.

"You're busy Yoongles, I understand." You said trying to comfort him but it wasn't working, he jumped up looking around for his jacket and keys.

"We're going out, now." You stopped him and pointed at the lunch you made him and then at your own on the table.

"Let's just stay here." He nodded in agreement and went to grab the food from his desk, coming back to your side and not moving.

Hoseok:

Hobi was at the studio all day so Mejiwoo was taking you out to go and get a nice lunch together and have a girly day together, you were sitting inside of a small cafe when she took out her phone to take some photos, you were wearing some of her shop's clothes so you posed for her so she could add them later, you loved spending time together with her, she was like a best friend to you which at first you found weird since you were dating her brother but it was nice to talk to someone about Hobi who grew up with him, and you got along really well together. She posted photos of you both together with a happy birthday caption and the fans were going crazy for it, Army knew about you and Hoseok and they supported it since you made him happy.

"Is Hobi taking you out later?" Mejiwoo questioned when she noticed you weren't eating anything, you shook your head and looked at your phone before putting it away.

"I think he forgot, but it's okay. I know how busy he is with the new comeback." You said, taking a piece of cake and eating it.

You walked through the door of your apartment the lights flicked out, Hoseok jumped up from behind the sofa and screamed

"Happy Birthday!" At you, as music played in the background, you smiled at him and went over to hug him, he smiled at you taking your face in his hands and moving the hair from in front of your eyes and bending down to kiss you.

"I'm sorry I forgot and my sister had to tell me I forgot." He said sheepishly, you shook your head at him, you weren't mad at him.

"Can we just cuddle on the sofa and watch movies?" You questioned looking around the apartment, he'd hung up some balloons and had a streamer with your name in the background.

"I love you Hobi but I'm so tired and I know you are too, so let's rest." You said taking his hands and dragging him to the sofa, sitting him down and getting a blanket to cuddle under.

Namjoon:

It didn't bother you that Namjoon had forgotten your birthday, as much as everyone around you was telling you it should be bothering you it just didn't, he was away shooting for Bon Voyage with other things on his mind, you didn't expect him to remember every little thing, he was just one man. They had the comeback coming up soon and you knew he was writing for that as well as shooting for Bon Voyage so you weren't surprised when your birthday had almost passed without a text or call from him.

"If he was my boyfriend, I would be pissed." Your sister said looking over your shoulder as you added a new photo to your Instagram, you'd just put on a picture of your cake, you rolled your eyes at your sister and stood up from the sofa, going to find your coat saying goodbye to your family members and heading back to your shared apartment with Namjoon, stopping at the shop to buy some chocolate for yourself, you were in the mood to just eat chocolate and watch Run episodes since there were some new ones you hadn't seen yet.

"Hobi?" You groaned down the phone, you heard him cheer from down the line and you giggled, sitting up in bed and looking at the digital clock on the nightstand, it was late where they were so you knew they'd probably been drinking together, Hoseok chuckled wishing you a happy birthday before the phone was passed to Jungkook who also screamed it at you, continuing until you heard someone yelling at them to keep it down, you knew that voice anywhere.

"HI BABY!" You screamed down the phone loud enough for him to hear if you weren't on speakerphone, everyone started singing happy birthday and laughing along when it suddenly stopped, everyone went into hushed tones before you heard a door slam and the phone cut out. Two seconds later it rang again, only Namjoon's name was on the screen this time.

"It's your birthday?" He sounded guilty and you hummed laying back down against the pillows, feeling instantly relaxed by the sound of his voice.

"I totally forgot, I am so sorry." You pressed the video call button instead and sat the phone so he could see you, you smiled sleepily at him and he sighed looking at you.

"Baby you're busy, I understand...Besides, you can make it up to me by showing me one of the new songs early." You teased wiggling your eyebrows up and down, he chuckled at you and sighed.

"Get some rest, I'll call you tomorrow and maybe we can discuss an early showing of a song." He teased, wishing you a happy birthday.

"I love you." You both said before ending the call.

Jimin:

You glanced down at the watch on your wrist and then over at the door again, he was either late or forgot that this was happening tonight.

"I'm sorry Miss but we have to give the table up." You nodded and got up from the table, walking behind a waitress who offered to get you a cab home, you sat in the back of the cab trying not to cry, you weren't mad at Jimin for forgetting your birthday but you were a little hurt by it, especially when the meal was his idea you just wanted a quiet night in together so you could spend as much time together before he went back on tour and you went back to work.

"Where have you been?" Jimin asked with a smirk as you walked through the door, dressed in a light pink cocktail dress that was knee-length, he looked you up and down before coming over to you, you moved out of the way making it look like you were going to the bathroom, you stared down at the floor.

"Work meal." You lied going into the bathroom and shutting the door behind you, stripping out of your dress and running the shower, stepping under the hot water and letting it melt your problems away.

"Shit." You heard Jimin yell before the bathroom door open and shut, you knew he was in the bathroom you heard him shuffling out of his clothes before he joined you inside of the shower and kissing your neck, you rolled your head back against his chest and he ran his hands up your body, sighing and kissing your ear.

"I'm sorry, I know it was my idea." You hummed and he span you around to face him, moving your wet hair from your face and kissing you.

"I'll make it up to you, I'll order us some food in and we can have the chill night you wanted in the first place." He promised, you giggled and kissed him again wrapping your arms around his neck to bring him closer to you.

"Let's do something else first." You said before dropping to your knees in front of him.

Taehyung:

You woke up and went down the stairs to find Tae with Jungkook they hadn't gone to bed last night you could tell by the energy drinks and empty coffee cups around the living room, you smiled at Jungkook who looked up to see you. Jungkook smiled back at you and pointed over at the gift bag near the kitchen for you, you made a mental note to look at it later and then went over to the front door,

"I've got work, I'll see you later." You said with an extra bounce in your step, you were always in a good mood whenever it was your birthday, it was just the way you were wired. Taehyung looked at the bag that Jungkook had pointed out and frowned, before going back to what they were doing. He didn't know why you were so giddy today but it was cute.

You got home from work and collapsed onto the sofa opposite to Jungkook and Taehyung who were still sat playing video games, you didn't blame them it was their month off and they were going to relax all they could,

"Rough day?" Jungkook asked you, you nodded and rolled onto your back looking up at the ceiling, he chuckled getting up and handing you the gift bag, Taehyung watched as you took out the card when reality hit him and he realised what was happening.

"What is it Hyung, you look like you've seen a ghost," Jungkook said, you sat up as you opened up the gift.

"He forgot my birthday." You said as if it wasn't a big deal but Tae looked like he was about to start crying, you looked up and walked over to him sitting with him on the sofa and leaning your head on his shoulder,

"How?" Jungkook said, you slapped his leg playfully and kissed Tae on the lips.

"Having him home is enough for me," You said as Taehyung relaxed against you,

"I'll make it up to you."

Jungkook

It wasn't a big deal when you woke up to no birthday messages from your birthday Jungkook, he was busy and you weren't a big fan of your birthday you didn't like to be the centre of attention and you didn't want to make a big thing out of something so small like your birthday but it seemed everyone else had remembered, your social media was being flooded by messages from Army and the other members, you put your phone away not wanting to see any of them but sending out a quick thank you before you did so.

Jungkook was practising the new choreography with Jimin when Taehyung walked into the room with gift bags, leaving them with Jungkook's stuff and coming over to both of them.

"How come you haven't tweeted out to Y/N Yet?" Taehyung asked as they both took a break to get some water, Jungkook frowned looking at him and then over at the bags, his eyes widening as soon as he realised what today was, he looked at his phone, his notifications filled with posts he was tagged in, he scrolled through everything seeing fan edits of you and him together and old photos of you as a baby.

"Go home," Jimin said to him, Jungkook rushed out of the room, grabbing the gifts from the boys and heading back to the apartment, trying to think of something he could say to you to make it up to you, but he had no excuses.

"I'm a bad boyfriend." He said as he walked into your arms, you were sat in the kitchen making a drink when he came in and you giggled at him, running your hands through his hair.

"Yes for hugging me when you're sweating, so gross." You groaned trying to push him away but he tightened his grip around you and made you stay with him.

"Kookie, you stink." You whined but he kept hold of you, whispering happy birthday over and over again into your ear, you groaned.

"What can I do to make it up to you." You pushed him away from you and for a second he thought you were mad at him until you started laughing.

"Go and take a shower! Then we can watch some movies or something, Jesus Kookie." You said pushing him towards the bathroom but he put all his weight onto you, causing you to stumble into the table behind you and making him laugh.

"Shower with me, then we will order something in and find some movies." He said to you, picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder.

Tagline:

@yoongisdumplingcheeks @lovies-kpop-fan-fiction @snowy-meowl

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