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#the shitty lighting was making your blonde eyebrows disappear
mrchiipchrome · 7 months
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The Drunk Dial
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W.C.- 3.8 k
a/n; i know that this is extremely shitty
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Alessia Russo hated you. You would go as far as to say that she despised you. You don’t know when it started, but it’s been one of the only constants in your life ever since. Your parents divorce? Meh, she couldn’t give a damn. You break your arm? Good going trying to get her to sign your cast. You get called up? Ugh tell someone who cares.
It wasn’t like you didn’t try to become friends with the blonde, it was just that she rejected your every advance. In fact that’s all you did the first year or so, until you realized it was futile of you to even try. Ever since the two of you had been living in disharmony, arguing with the other every chance you got.
That’s why you’re so confused when you hear the voicemail she left you the night before as you’re walking to training. The slurred words quickly makes the confused look disappear, a smirk replacing it rapidly as you realize the ammunition you now have.
The girls look on in confusion as you basically skip your way into the meeting room, eyes scanning for the blonde head of hair you’d gotten used to seeing daily over the last few weeks. When you inevitably don’t see her, you take a seat closer to the door than you usually would.
“Oi, Y/n you’re in my seat!” Katie whisper shouts as she takes the seat right beside you, wanting her favorite seat back. 
“Tough luck Katie, come earlier next time” You tease, adding an overdramatic wink at the end of the sentence to emphasize. You’re not even mad when the older girl pushes harshly at your shoulder, in too good of a mood to have it be dampened by anyone.
The meeting finishes as quickly as it had started, Alessia not appearing until the meeting itself had concluded and people had started to file out the door. Not you though, you stayed right where you’d taken your seat 20 minutes before. 
Your humorous glare didn’t even falter as you felt the harsh one coming from the girl with baby blue eyes, who’d coincidentally thrown herself into the seat opposite of you. Jonas looks at Alessia expectedly as the blonde girl slowly lowers her sunglasses, the tall man expecting an apology from the obviously hungover girl.
“I’m so sorry for being late Jonas” The gaffer looks on in slight disbelief before sighing loudly.
“It’s okay, just don’t let it happen again” He fixes her with a pointed look, quickly disappearing from the enclosed space with Alessia nodding vigorously.
“Can I get you anything Russo? Water? Smelling salts? An alibi for why you’re late?” The teasing tone in your voice is almost as prominent as the striker's headache, the headache that makes her feel like her head is splitting.
“No but you could fuck right off!” Alessia rests her forehead on the cool surface of the table in an attempt at easing her pounding headache. She runs her hands over her sloppily tied hair, the bun she’d hastily thrown her golden locks into quickly falling apart.
“Ooohh, that stings.” Your hand comes up to cover your heart, like the women in those renaissance paintings. “Not the words, but the cloud of vodka that accompanies them” Your teasing continues even after she gives you the finger. 
“Fuck you!” Alessia groans out through clenched teeth. With a response as quick as light, you counter.
“Oh you wish” You’re able to see the disgusted expression on her face from miles away, but strangely you also see the slight rosiness of her cheeks. 
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I went out with some old UNC friends last night” Your eyebrows furrow at her explanation, she doesn’t owe you one.
“Yeah, then you thought ‘Oh, I should call Y/n at 3 am’” The smirk on your face widens exponentially as Alessia lifts her face from the table, confusion on every corner of her expression.
“Really, yeah cause the first thing I do when I’m having fun is think abou-” Her sweet accented voice is cut off by her own, only the latter is slurred and barely audible.
“Y/n Y/l/n I’m ringing you because…what was it?” Alessia’s giggle on the recording of her voice cuts off her next words, “You’re probably asleep but you’re pretty…I don’t even know” The recording is cut off with the sound of someone shouting for shots. Alessia’s face is beet red by now, expressing every horrified thought running through her pretty head.
“The drunk dial. So much subtext. So much intrigue. So much booty call implication.” You’re oh so satisfied with yourself as Alessia opens her mouth to respond, but ultimately doesn’t. The chair bounces off the floor as the blonde legs it out the door, your laughter providing a back track.
The loud clicking of cleats against the floor catches your attention, and when Gio’s head pops into the room from the doorway. 
“What happened with Less?” The younger girl questions, having seen Alessia running to the locker room only moments before.
“Russo drunk dialed me! After years of hating me, she called me drunk last night and I got the voicemail to prove it.” Gio’s expression turns from neutral to worried faster than a lightswitch turns a lamp on.
“The drunk dial?! Ohhhh this can’t be good!” Now it’s your turn to be confused, the girl in front of you extremely worried.
“Hey, it’s no biggie. We tease each other all the time, she hates me” You explain apprehensively, not wanting to make the girl more worried.
“That’s the point! What can she do when you hold all the cards? It’s like when two people see each other naked in sitcoms, the balance shifts.” The girl in front of you grabs your shoulder wildly, as to implicate exactly how important it is that you understand.
“So you’re telling me I need to show Russo the lady parts?” Your smile indicates that you’re joking, and Gio shoves your shoulder telling you to go and get ready for training. Still, the talk with the younger woman sticks in your mind throughout practice, especially when Alessia can’t look you in the eyes and when she doesn’t tackle you as hard as usual.
Eventually when practice ends you all file into the cafeteria for lunch, and you end up in line right behind the blue eyed beauty. The blonde avoids your every attempt at meeting her eyes and starting a conversation, not giving you her usual snide remarks. You’re worried now, her snide remarks usually hurting you but in a good way.
“Russo, once when I was out at the pub with the team I hit on a dude who I thought was a chick.”  Her sky blue eyes meet yours for the first time since that morning, tens of different emotions swirling around in them.
“Why are you telling me this?” She questions.
“Well it’s to tell you that no one acts like themself when they’re drunk, I wouldn’t think about flirting with a dude sober. Sooo…” You answer her confidently, that confidence disappearing when she gives you a dirty look.
“Fuck off Y/l/n” Her voice is more venomous than a black mamba, and you have to hide the slightly shocked expression from your teammates who all look on in confusion at the interaction. 
After getting your food, you make your way to where Gio is sitting in a conversation with Kathrine. The chair thuds as you drop down into it and you effectively pull Gio’s attention away from her best friend, the girl looking at you with a knowing smile.
“You were right, it’s all awkward now and she won’t even insult me.” You throw your hands up into the air as Kathrine looks on in confusion.
“Wait, let’s hear that first part again” Gio demands with a satisfied smile. You sigh, knowing that this was the only way for you to get her to help you.
“You were right.” 
“And just one more time for good measure” You fix the brunette with a slight glare before once again telling her that she was right. “Oh it’s like music to my ears, now the only way to get everything back to normal is for you to even the score.” Gio tells you, Kathrine giving up on trying to understand what you were talking about.
“I have to show Russo my bits?” This time, unlike the other, you’re completely serious. Gio slaps her hand on her forehead at you as she tries to explain what she means to you.
“No, you have to drunk dial her! Have you ever acted drunk before?” The girl questions curiously, looking at you expectantly.
“No I’m not drunk, seriously I’m not drunk.” You slur your words painfully, swaying slightly in your seat to give it a realer look. Gio winces at the horrid performance, knowing that she would have to get you drunk for her plan to work.
“That was horrible, I’ll go home with you after the weight session and we’ll practice, okay?” You nod in response before digging into your food.
—-
After another rather awkward training session with the blue eyed girl, you find yourself in your apartment with your young companion who’s trying to coach you on how to act drunker than you are.
As Gio pours you another shot of the clear alcoholic beverage, you can’t help but wince slightly at the burning sensation at the back of your throat from previous shots.
“Bottoms up” The girl tells you playfully as you throw the liquid courage down the back of your throat. “Now, try again. Let’s see your drunk impression.” You imitate an old phone as you make beeping noises.
“Wassup Russo, your call was a nice surprise so I decided to give you a ring to thank you for it” The slurring words don’t help you in the slightest as Gio once again looks on in disgust.
“No, not like that, come on!” The young girl explains.
“Gio, I love you and all, but to be honest you’re a horrible drinking buddy.” You can see the girl's expression change drastically as she picks up the bottle of alcohol. Looking on in shock, you see how the brunette chugs the alcohol directly from the bottle.
“I thought you didn’t drink” You express, Gio looking at you like you’re crazy.
“I don’t, but it’s all for the plot. The things I do for you my friend, the things I do for you” Gio pours two shots for you both to take.
What follows is a night full of drinking with one of your best friends, and one very long very detailed call to your nemesis…
—-
The rude beeping of your alarm going off for the tenth time makes you groan, your head pounding viciously in protest of the light coming in through the blinds and directly into your eyes. Your back aches dully as you feel the hard floor beneath you, looking up to the couch you see Gio’s sleeping form resting all over it.
Crawling over to the girl, you slap her leg hard to wake her up from slumber. The girl wakes with a slight yell as she sees you lying on the floor, questioning where she was.
“What happened last night?” You ask, running your hand over your face, the apartment in shambles with empty bottles strewn around like it would after a high school rager. The young girl shakes her pounding head before perking up again.
“Did you call Less last night?!” You pick your phone up with a rapid pace, looking at your outgoing calls.
“One outgoing call to Russo, and one outgoing call to Kimmy…oh fuck me, that’s not good” You tell the girl, who nods with wide eyes nearly bursting out in laughter at your terrified expression.
“Oh fuck, oh shit, look at the time! We’re so fucked!” You scrambled up from your place on the floor, rushing into your bedroom to gather some new, not alcohol drenched clothes for you and Gio. Throwing the clothes on the youngster, you tell her to hurry up and put them on before you’re even later than needed.
You’re both out the door in record time, slipping the pairs of sunglasses you always kept with you over your eyes to block out the light even more. 
Pulling up to training, the two of you rush out of the car and into the building. The locker room is nearly empty by the time you reach it, the only people there being the only two in the whole world that you didn’t want to see at that moment. Kim raises her brow at the door slamming open and as you look into her eyes, you see the disapproving look that’s settled there. When Gio runs into your back only moments later, it only becomes worse.
You rush to your cubby, located only meters away from Alessia’s, Alessia who looks at you with a satisfied smirk on her face. The stupid smirk entices you, and you wonder what you possibly could have said to get her to look at you like that.
Pulling your shirt off, you don’t notice her Alessia’s eyes follow the movement, her eyes locking onto the shaped abs and the ridges that appear on your arms as you struggle to get the shirt off. Just because you don’t notice doesn’t mean that Gio doesn’t, she smirks at the obvious attraction Alessia holds for you.
After getting your training clothes on, you make your way to the door where your skipper is waiting for you. She holds the door open for you before slinging her arm around your waist, you bringing your arm up and around her shoulders. 
“Did you have fun last night?” The older woman asks you, your eyes widening slightly in surprise at her question.
“If I’m honest, I can’t even remember most of last night.” Your free hand comes up to rub at the back of your neck, the door behind you opening up yet again.
“Well, next time you and Gio decide to have a night full of drinking, please make sure that you dial Alessia’s number right away instead of calling me, okay?” Your cheeks darken exponentially at the blondes words, the woman a mentor to you.
“I’m so sorry Kimmy.” She smiles up at you in response, patting your stomach lightly before breaking away from you.
Back in the locker room Alessia is getting ready to get out of the locker room, that is before she hears Gio call her name.
“Alessia, I can see the way you look at her when you think no one’s watching you.” The shorter girl keeps her voice low, like she’s talking to a scared animal.
“What are you talking about?” The blonde questions, her eyes betraying her real feelings as the love shines through the apparent hatred.
“I’m talking about you and Y/n, listen I know that you hate her or whatever but the eyes never lie chica, the eyes never lie” And with that, Gio walks out of the room, leaving a stunned Alessia Russo behind.
—-
Only days later, it’s time for an away game and as you settle into your seat on the bus you can’t help but think about your blue eyed teammate. Staring out the window, you get startled out of your thoughts by a body flopping into the seat beside you. Looking to your left, you see the person you least expected to sit beside you.
Her ocean-like eyes look into your own for a second before she stares back towards the front of the bus. When she starts to talk, she does so in a whisper that barely gets heard over the bustle of the bus.
“So, you think I’m pretty huh?” She leans into your body slightly, her minty breath wafting over the side of your face. The cool mint contrasts the hot nature of your tomato red face, wide eyes scanning her side profile nervously.
“What? I’ve never said that!” Your voice comes out shaky and unsure as your eyes flit around the bus, now it’s Alessia’s turn to study you.
“Oh, so you don’t deny that I’m pretty?” She teases, your face becoming even more red than before if that was possible. The sputtering coming from your throat doesn’t help your case as you choke on your spit.
Alessia pulls up her phone to play the voicemail you’d left her only days before, the slurred voice on the recording obviously yours as it was your turn to be embarrassed.
“Hey Ruse-Cruise, I was just calling to tell you that you're so pretty. I can’t believe that you’re real, you always look like a fucking goddess and I’m so jealous that I can’t call you mine. Yeah, sober me is gonna hate myself for that but I don’t care. Kiss Kiss!” If you could, you would throw yourself off a cliff. 
Pulling your hoodie up and over your cartoonishly red face, you wish for the ground to swallow you whole or at least get Alessia to move away from you. And after a bit, it seems like your prayers are answered because Alessia moves over to sit beside Lotte and Gio moves into the spot Alessia had occupied only moments before.
“Gio, kill me” You plead to the younger girl, who looks on in part amusement and part concern.
“That bad, huh?” Your head drops down onto her shoulder and you hum in agreement. “It’ll be alright, don’t you worry.” The younger girl strokes your back to comfort you, catching the eye of her partner in crime and nodding. The plan had to be set in motion.
—-
Ever since you had heard that godforsaken voicemail, you had been ignoring the older girl who it had been sent to. The only time you actually gave her any semblance of attention was during training or games, and even then it was only a second of eye contact or a quick word.
The striker's friends had even started to notice the effect your absence had on her, the girl much more frustrated and closed off than normal. It had gotten so bad that her performance on the pitch was worsening slightly. Something had to be done, and fast.
Just to their luck, the two matchmakers had created a plan that was sure to work.
When Gio comes running for you after training one day, her worried expression fools you just the right amount and as she runs away in the opposite direction you were going in, you just had to follow her.
What you didn’t expect was to be pushed into a storage closet only moments after arriving to where Gio had stopped, another body being pushed into you seconds later before the telltale sound of the lock clicking shut sounds throughout the cramped space.
The person leaning against you soon jumps away from you, a voice sounding from the other side of the door.
“I don’t care how you do it, but the two of you need to make up. Only then will you be let out.” The scowl on your face widens at the smugness in Gio’s voice and your fist pounds at the door viciously as you scream and yell for them to open the damn door. 
In your attempts to get the girls on the other side to open the door for you, you don’t notice how Alessia starts to panic nor do you notice how she’s now on the ground. 
“Y/n shut up!” Her tone is harsh as you continue to bang your fist on the door. “No seriously Y/n, shut up!” The way Alessia speaks has you looking towards her, seeing the dark silhouette of her body sitting on the floor.
“I don’t like tight spaces” She whispers into your ear after you’ve dropped down beside her, taking her hand in your own, you don’t have the stomach to tell her that her death grip is cutting off all your circulation.
“Hey, Russo, how can I help you? I can’t help you if you don’t tell me how” The free hand caresses her shin in what’s supposed to be a comforting action. All the years of supposed hate disappears when she looks up at you with tearfilled eyes, begging you to do something.
“I don’t care what you do, just distract me please” She begs. The idea that pops into your head will probably make her hate you even more, but alas it’s the only way to distract her.
“Fuck it” You lean in closer to her, the fact that she isn’t pushing you away is definitely a good sign.
“Can I kiss you?” You whisper against her lips, in place of a response she leans in slightly and presses her soft lips against your own.
The only way to describe her lips was that they were heavenly, and definitely distracting. They move slowly, testing the waters before diving in. Without breaking the seal of your lips, the forward slowly moves over into your lap, her hands tasseling in your locks whilst yours settle comfortably on her hips. The bruising grip of your fingers doesn’t let up even after the blonde pulls away from the kiss.
She twirls your hair between her long, perfectly manicured fingers and her intense gaze settles on your face, eyes flitting over it like she’s trying to commit it to memory. Your thumbs find their way under the hem of her shirt, stroking the skin softly.
“I’m sorry” She speaks up quietly.
“What could you possibly be sorry for, pretty girl?” 
“The way I’ve treated you, I couldn’t even tell you why I did it.” Alessia explains, her fingers caressing your cheek sweetly. You lean into her hand, pressing a soft kiss to her palm before speaking.
“Eh, that’s all in the past, how about we make some positive memories to replace the old ones huh?” You whisper back, pulling the shorter girl in for another kiss. 
“Hey, Gio! Can we come out now? We’ve made up” Alessia’s cheeks darken slightly at the particular choice of words. You two stand up as the door gets unlocked and opened, letting Alessia exit first, you soon lunge at the brazilian who’d locked you in. Pulling her into a headlock, you hear the sweet sound of Alessia’s laughter and you can’t help but laugh yourself.
Let’s just say, Alessia Russo doesn’t hate you anymore, the kisses you share deep into the night a sure indication of that…
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xoxunhinged · 21 days
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Psycho xox
Unstable König x Unhinged You 🎀 a fucked series
Gratuitous violence, smutty references, psycho reader, unbalanced König. This is now my entire existence.
Christ, you’re both so fucking weird
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You were different and you knew that.
Not different in the way most people flaunt, not quirky or a ‘pick me’ person. You were fucking odd.
Off kilter, not right.
Or in the words of most of your exes, a psycho.
It never bothered you, how ‘other’ you were, even if it made your friends and family slightly uncomfortable. As you grew up, you got better at playing normal. Pretending your personality wasn’t exclusively driven, by the urge to search for something deeper in humanity.
You wanted to uncover the roots of everyone you encountered. Not in a charming way, you tried to claw under the surface of their skin, see the beating heart of what made them so very ordinary.
Unpick their psyche and leave it in ruins, watch how they scrambled to put themselves back together in your wake.
Violence didn’t phase you, neither did angst or emotional turmoil. It was like you viewed life from a distance, interacting with it easily, because it couldn’t mar your soul or skin with it’s inky fingers.
The few friends you had, were casual acquaintances, that didn’t really know the real person, hiding inside the shroud of normality you presented to them.
Still, you never really felt lonely. Lonely? What’s that?
Content with your own company, living in your little depraved head happily.
Casually you make your way to another party. You’ve been invited out of politeness, but you go because there’s usually some entertainment there for you. Someone to goad or lure into your bizarre life.
Usually you would kick them out again in a few weeks, not forming any closer attachment than that.
Even when they begged you to stay with them, you couldn’t feel anything. Turning on your heel and leaving them without another thought.
Pulling the hood of your coat off your head slightly, you move into the crowded house. The bass of shitty music thrumming at your eardrums, while partygoers drink beer and chat inconsequential nonsense around you.
You observe. Sinking into a nearby sofa, resting your black boots on the surface of the coffee table in front of you.
It’s packed in here, so many people trying to get wasted and forget their humdrum lives together. Someone lights a spliff, the smoke curls over the dim room, sickly sweet against the heat of the crowd.
It’s an eclectic mix of bodies, clashing styles and personalities.
There is someone that catches your eye, for more than a few seconds at least.
Hulking he stands alone in the corner of the room, face masked, clutching a beer like it’s a life raft. He’s got more thick muscles than you’ve ever seen, dressed in black like he’s trying to disappear.
With slight interest, you watch one large thumb rub nervously, against the side of the brown bottle in his hand.
So twitchy, for such a big fucker. It piques your curiosity.
He’s staring right back at you, almost unblinkingly. It might be unnerving that, for some. But not for you.
Out of nowhere, your view of him is obscured by a stumbling guy with tousled blonde hair.
“Hey!” The blonde grins stupidly.
Raising an eyebrow archly at him, you say hi back. He’s good looking you guess, in a conventional Abercrombie kind of way.
“Noticed you as soon as you came in. You’re gorgeous!”
Boring. What a tedious opener. No one ever starts with anything interesting like ‘do you wanna rob a bank, then use the proceeds to road trip around the country?’
Blondie keeps trying his luck, sitting down next to you, one hand on your fishnet covered thighs. Your masked mystery man has disappeared, maybe he’s melted into the shadows completely now?
Eventually, you decide to let the blonde take you outside. There’s nothing else interesting going on, it might be fun to see how much you can tease him before walking away, leaving him with blue balls.
Within five minutes, you’re up against a cold brick wall, blondie necking with you and grinding his little bulge against your thigh. Lazily, you close your eyes, struggling not to laugh at the panting noises he’s making.
With sudden, vicious strength, your conquest is dragged off you. It’s so quick the blonde becomes a blur of colour, streaks of light popping in front of your eyes.
Your masked friend sinks one meaty fist into the guys face, stunning him instantaneously. There’s a sickening crunch as knuckle meets bone.
Almost too easily, the giant discards him. The blonde now writhes in agony on the floor, clutching his nose.
The giant’s eyes meet yours, so obscenely blue, like the summer sky in August. You can almost feel the heat of them scorching your skin. Peering out of the holes in what looks like an old t-Shirt covering his face. He looks slightly abashed, ready for you to tell him off for his behaviour.
Your gaze falls on the blonde again, then flits back into the dark mask above you.
“Hit him again.” It’s not a request. It’s a command, issued from your lips with glorious clarity.
Your masked man doesn’t hesitate.
Gloved knuckles land a fierce blow to the guys stomach with a swift whoosh of air, as he coughs and groans. That azure gaze meets your own again.
Something close to euphoria breaks over you at the sight of it. There’s an excitement you’ve never felt before, the way those blue eyes seem to mirror your own internal dysfunction.
For a moment you just stand, staring at each other. You bask in the intensity of him, rippling strength wrangled into the form of a man.
Then you throw your head back and laugh.
“What’s your name?” You ask him, when you eventually stop giggling. It’s almost like you’re high, drunk off the sensation of meeting someone as unhinged as you are.
“König.” He replies, in a higher tone than you expected, voice thick with some sort of accent.
König is still looking at you unblinkingly. There’s an odd sort of hunger in him, something feral that’s being guarded by a loose amount of self restraint.
You give him the first genuine smile, you’ve ever given anyone.
“Wanna get out of here with me König?”
- I think you’re special…
𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙
For the rest of the story click here <3
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Part 1 Here! / Part 2 Here! /Part 3 Here! / Part 4 Here! / Part 5 Here! / Part 6 Here! / Part 7 Here! / Part 8 Here! / Part 9 Here! / Part 10 Here! / Part 11 Here! / Part 12 Here! /Part 13 Here! / Part 14 Here! / Part 15 Here! / Part 16 Here ! / Part 17 Here! / Part 18 Here! / Part 19 Here! / Part 20 here! <This is Part 21!>
A/N: Next part is up, as a small reminder if you are interested in a physical edition of the waking up in pjo series (like an actual book written in short story format just like the waking up in twilight book) our soft interest check is located here, and I'll be launching the hard interest check officially in the new year.
* Your finger taps against the cheap linoleum table.
* ‘I’m in a lot of shit.’
* The problems just keep stacking up, one after the other.
* The lost dog got you out to Colorado, but there are no more open tickets on trains or busses from here—it’s peak season and everyone seems to be moving in or out of the city.
* You’re not sixteen yet so you can’t rent a car, and the solstice is growing closer with every minute.
* So now you’re sitting in a shitty diner, in a shitty town, trying to find some way to shitty California so Percy can meet his degenerate Dad.
Not to mention that this asshole has to be here—you wrinkle your nose as another wave of violent emotion wafts over you
* ‘Can’t he keep it in his pants for ten minutes?’
* Ares grins back at you.
* He looks a lot like his mother, and a little like Maki. You catch pieces of Clarisse in him too. The shape of his nose, the curve of his lip.
* A yellow aura radiates off of him, perfect blond curls pressed against his head, and a bright red flush over the bridge of his nose.
* If he wasn’t being such an asshole tormenting Percy you’d say he was handsome.
* He gives you a wolfish grin, eyes hidden behind a pair of dark sunglasses, his leather jacket wrinkling as he leans forward.
* “I’ve been dying to meet you.”
* Annabeth flinches, Percy glowers, Grover looks like he wants to disappear, you only raise an eyebrow.
* “And why would that be?”
* Ares snorts, leaning back in his chair. “Humble like your old Underworld Daddy, huh?”
* You’d laugh if you weren’t so annoyed with him right now. The children look beside themselves with horror. Ares doesn’t seem to care, using a steak knife to clean his fingers. “You’re all anyone can talk about these days.” He whistles.
* “What about him?” You nod to Percy, who seems about a second from punching him in the face.
* Ares rolls his eyes.
*“Poseidon having a kid? That’s old news, old seaweeds notorious for getting caught up in the moment—everyone knows about his and Amphitrite's agreement.”
*‘Oh my god, Percy’s dad is a swinger.’
*“But Hades having a kid?” You catch a glimmer of Ares' eyes widening from behind his glasses. “That’s interesting.”
*‘Well, he’s not really my Dad.’
*But his fascination with you is starting to make sense. Hades is hopelessly devoted to Persephone, you’re fairly certain he’s never even glanced at someone in a romantic light after devoting himself to her.
*“What’s even more interesting is how they’ve all curled around you, protecting you from the others.” For the first time, you feel a shiver trail down your spine, teeth clenched hard to suppress the natural movement. Even though you can’t see them, you can feel Ares's eyes trained on you, studying every action you make.
*‘He’s suspicious.’
*Persephone did say he’s surprisingly astute for someone who acts like a moron.
*“Not to mention half of the Olympians have given you blessings.”
*That catches you off guard.
*“What?”
*You can feel him keen at your surprise.
*“It’s right there,” he nods towards your jacket-covered sleeve. As if they can only be ignited by a divine voice, the symbols glow.
*“There’s Makaira,” he says pointing to a pale yellow mark of a bird. “Melinoe,” a somber grey mark of a stone. “Hades,” Black with three skulls. “Persephone,” a bright pink peony. “Zagreus,” this one is said with a raised eyebrow at the red sword burned into your skin. “Circe,” an orange bay leaf. “Hecate—nice.” He remarks at the green crescent moon in your skin. “Dionysus,” This is punctuated by a soft smile, the purple strawberries glow under his gaze. “Hera.” The bright yellow dove on the back of your hand.
*Ares eyes squint like he sees something else, something he can’t quite make out. But he says nothing. Only mutters a soft: “That’s weird.”
*Noticing the weakness he’s shown, he grins again.
*‘So that’s the face he uses to hide his real feelings.’
*“Want to add another? I wouldn’t mind giving you a bit of wrath.” His hand glows with an ombré of yellow to red. Your hand instinctively goes to hold Percy back when he rises to smack some sense into the incorrigible god.
*“How about you stop tormenting my friend and tell me what the fuck it is you want.”
*The use of the swear has Grover’s fork clattering to the floor.
*‘It’s rude but at least one of these crappy blessings should protect me right?’
*Ares doesn’t seem to mind, his grin only widening, hands held up in truce, Percy relaxes next to you.
*“I need a simple favor from you.”
*You very much doubt anything that comes from this man’s mouth is going to be simple in the least.
*“I was on a date and—”
*“Oh my god you were harassing Aphrodite again weren’t you?”
*He grows flustered.
*“W-what no—”
*“Yes, you were.” You respond. “Makaria and Melinoe told me all about it, how last month she was having a quiet dinner with her family and you showed up drunk on her lawn slurring love ballads.” Percy actually muffled a snort at that, and Annabeth has to feign excessive interest in the window.
*Ares flushes red in embarrassment.
*“L-look do you want a ride to the west or not?!”
*You do need a ride out of town.
*‘But I’m starting to think it’s not a coincidence all modes of transportation for us are blocked.’
*“So what is it you need?” You ask leaning back in your chair.
*“I left my shield at the old abandoned water park, if you get it for me I’ll get you a ride to the west.”
*You lean back in your chair, he wants something from this—more than just getting a glance at a few demi-gods or his shield.
*‘Which means I can get a little more out of this.’
*“You get us a ride out west and you give Clarisse and her mom a call.”
*He’s baffled by the request, as are the other three children.
*Despite his confusion, he nods.
*“I can do that.”
*“Then we have a deal.”
*There’s a moment of awkward silence, the only sound of Grover half-slurping, half-chewing his plastic straw.
*“A-alright, I have an appointment, it was nice meeting you.” He gives you a slight bow before getting on his motorcycle and ripping his engine into the highway.
*“He’s nicer than I thought he would be.” You say biting one if Percy’s fries.
***
*People should really be more wary of a gaggle of children walking around a city unaccompanied
*Especially when they’re peeking over a wooden fence, eyes swinging right to left as they survey an old water park
*“I think the coast is clear,” Annabeth says.
*“I don’t hear anything.” Grover adds, his ears twitching.
*Your mouth opens, the words: “Let’s wait a few minutes to be sure.” Dancing on the tip of your tongue when Percy jumps the fence.
*The three of you look at him with dumbstruck expression, Annabeth smacks her forehead.
*“What? We were going to do it sooner or later anyway.”
*There’s something haunting about an abandoned water park, rides teaming with algae, inner tubes half inflated still rotating on a lazy River—it’s unsettling.
*What’s even more unsettling are Annabeth’s twinkling eyes when she spots an unlocked gift shop.
*“We can’t just take this stuff Annabeth!” Percy, ever the morally upright young man, says.
*“Watch me.” She hisses back, grabbing a pair of shorts and a t-shirt.
*“Hell yeah! We’re finally doing something fun, hey Annie let’s insight a riot on Main Street so we can loot there too!”
*“Oh man, not you too!” Percy groans. He looks hurt when Grover moved to join you both in your ransacking.
*“If you can’t beat em,” Grover shrugs.
*And that’s how the four of you ended up walking around an abandoned water park looking like ghosts of their catalog models.
*“It’s probably in there.” Grover nods to the Tunnel of Love, it’s one of the few rides they bothered to drain and turn off.
*‘That or Ares drained it himself.’
*Your staff glows in your hand.
*‘What kind of trick is this.’
*Annabeth and Percy race in front of you.
*“Not you too Annie!”
*“I just want to get out of this place! It gives me the creeps!” She calls back.
*That’s not exactly what you want to hear from a twelve-year-old child of Athena
*“Kids, am I right?” Grover says with a sheepish grin from beside you.
*You sigh.
*‘At least one of them has got more than one brain cell.’
*“Tell me about it.”
*You walk to the end of the tunnel, studying the walls and miscellaneous graffiti.
*“So what’s the deal with Aphrodite and Ares?”
*You scoff.
*“It’s just the usual thing, a woman finally figured out they deserve better and the degenerate they left behind thinks otherwise.” Grover looks at you with a puzzled expression,
*“I…I always heard the affair was reciprocated.”
*You scoff again.
*‘Ares would like people to think that.’
*“She woke up one day, all of her kids grown and independent, and realized the only child she was taking care of was her partner and that she’d spent most of her life taking care of other people—”
*Melinoe had a very inquisitive expression when she told you this, like it pained her too, like she was the one who lived through it.
*“—so she left him and married someone who would take care of her. And Ares is still pissed about it I guess because he keeps doing crap like this to win her back.”
*It’s almost abusive when you think about it.
*Grover is silent for a long while.
*“Why don’t people ever talk about this?”
*Your mouth stretches into a fine line.
*“Because maybe it’s easier to avert your eyes sometimes.”
*You don’t hold it against them, Ares is a powerful god, and while Aphrodite is coveted—she doesn’t hold much power on her own.
*‘It’s not easy to call out Zeus’ son for his poor behavior.’
*You both stop when you reach the end of the ride, a dome shaped enclave, gilded with mirrors.
*You and Percy share identical sneers
*‘That jerk really thought Aphrodite would want to meet up somewhere she could stare at herself…did he ever love her?’
*“Let’s go and get it, come on Annabeth—”
*“I’m not going in the Tunnel of Love with you.” She looks completely embarrassed at the notion.
*‘She is only 12 years old after all, it’s natural for her to be embarrassed.’
*“Let’s wait a minute.”
*You can’t just charge into a situation, you have to think things through.
*“So here’s the plan—” you’re positive old shitty blush has an ulterior motive it can’t be this easy to grab a shield. You look to the children, seeing a dash outline where Percy should be. “Where’s P—”
*A click echoed through the chamber.
*Percy’s standing in the middle of the empty pool, a massive silver shield in his hand.
*When he catches your gaze he gives a sheepish shrug.
*“I figured if we were going to die, we might as well die soon.”
*‘Hades, what are these kids watching to get such a negative outlook on life?’
*You’re about to open your mouth to tell him as much when you hear a rumble.
*“Shit.”
*It’s Annabeth’s idea to get on the shield, Grover’s legs that kick away water from you, and Percy’s total concentration on his blooming powers and Annabeth’s tact that keeps you from smashing into rock and riding the tide out the entrance.
*And even though the Cupid statues record you, completely drenched and a little humiliated, next to a sputtering Annabeth, a hyperventilating Grover, and a adrenaline overload Percy breathing fast—you grin.
*‘At least it’s never boring.’
*You point into the camera, still grinning.
*“You owe us.”
*Percy pops out from behind you, waving.
*“Yeah, shows over!”
*You grin.
*‘It’s good to have friends.’
A/N: As a small reminder if you are interested in a physical edition of the waking up in pjo series (like an actual book written in short story format just like the waking up in twilight book) our soft interest check is located here, and I'll be launching the hard interest check officially in the new year.
*Tag List closed, looks like I’ve reached the max!*
Tag List: @holybatflapexpert @atomicsoph @fadingunknowncoffee @hopeworldsupremacy @padsfirewhisky @magical-dreamland @kookiedesi @kiritokunuwu @bleepmorp @flickeringlizard @luckyzipperscissorsbat @jessiegerl @undecided-as-always @officiallydarkgeek
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Summary: Tess returns a favor and gets a favor in return. Or maybe it's the other way around.
Words: 2k
Warnings: Pretty light. Mention of pills and alcohol, the nightmare of working in customer service.
A/N: Look, I promise Joel shows up eventually. I also want to thank @arrthurpendragon for giving this story a shout out the other day, and thus giving me the motivation to do another chapter. Genuinely, thank you for all that you do.
Masterlist | Previous | Next
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March 2013
As it turned out, the doctor’s apartment wasn’t all that far from Tess and Joel’s. It was just on the other side of the main market, which meant you could cut straight through the heart of the city if you were up for it; most of the time, Tess wasn’t. She and Joel kept to the outskirts of the city by nature—less FEDRA officers, more shadows—but there were days where even recluses like them had to brave the city center.
It was one of the few times Tess was using ration cards to buy actual rations. Normally, you’d get a better deal trading with your neighbors than you’d get at the market, but things were always tough at the end of winter. Hunting was bad and supplies were thing, which meant FERDA held all the cards. It also meant the bastards could hike up prices as much as they wanted. Tess spent a small fortune and only walked out with two bags of jerky, a bottle of water, and one shitty excuse for an onion. It was a crap haul, but she guarded it carefully as she walked out the other end of the market; she’d been jumped for less before.
Thankfully, it was only a few minutes before she found herself climbing the narrow stairs to the third floor apartment. None of the buildings in Boston were exactly quiet, not when the thin walls were stained and starting to rot, but Tess noticed at once that it was noisier than usual. Her hand gravitated toward her knife, hovering cautiously as she moved toward the disturbance.
“I don’t understand, I gave you the shirts. You were supposed to fix them!”
“Kendra, there wasn’t enough to fix. As soon as I started to stitch them, the fabric unraveled. The best I can do is salvage them for patches and thread.”
“But I already paid you.”
“Yes, I get that—”
Tess relaxed, hand falling back to her side. She’d had this conversation before. No matter what business you were in, customers were always a pain in the ass.
She knocked loudly on the door, which caused a slight pause in their argument.
“Just a sec! Look, Kendra, I can give you the rations back plus a few more for material—”
“I don’t need rations. I need shirts, so—can you just give them back?”
“Can—no! I just told you they’re unravelling. You could punch a hole through this fabric.”
“Well it wasn’t like that when I gave it to you.”
“Yeah, because I had to stab it with a needle. Which you paid me to do.”
“No, I paid for shirts, so—I don’t know! Give me other ones!”
“Oh, please—”
Tess slammed her hand against the door as hard as she could. Someone across the hall shouted for her to keep it down, but she ignored it. She’d rather kick the door in than listen to any more haggling; before she could, the door flew open.
“What the hell do you—oh…” The doctor stopped short, rage disappearing. She looked hurriedly up and down the hallway and tucked her short hair behind her ears. “Just hold on—”
“We need to talk,” Tess said firmly. “Now.”
She invited herself into the apartment and made a beeline for the couch. She took the liberty of making herself at home, kicking her feet up on the table, and raising an eyebrow at the shocked blonde woman across from her.
“Excuse me,” the woman said, aghast. “I was in the middle of—”
“Trying to con this woman out of some shirts—yeah, I heard. Scram.”
“C-con—excuse me? What I’m doing here is none of your business!”
“Lady, you made it my business when you started screaming for the whole complex.” Tess sat up abruptly and leaned forward, smiling when the other woman stepped back. “Now I don’t know how someone with the name Kendra survived this long in the apocalypse, but a little insider tip: if you’re that desperate for shirts, I know a few people who could make some out of you. Got it?”
She got a special kind of joy out of watching the lady squirm, her jaw dropped open wide as she scrambled for some kind of response. Luckily, her host put her out of her misery.
“Come on, Kendra,” the doctor sighed. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”
She led the shell-shocked woman out into the hall, pushing her the last few feet so she could close the door as fast as she could. She promptly sagged against it, dragging her hands down her face. Through her fingers, she glared at Tess.
“Thanks for that.”
“You’re welcome,” Tess said, without any sense of irony. “Chances are no one will fuck with you now.”
“Yeah, because they’ll all think I’m mixed up with a bunch of psychopaths.”
“You are.”
“Shut the hell up, Tess.”
The woman rolled her eyes and flipped her off, then turned her back as she walked to the kitchen. It was such a stark contrast to the speechless blonde that Tess could’ve smiled—she didn’t, but she could’ve.
“I got rid of her,” she said instead, “and Doc Laurel didn’t have to play the bad guy. Call it another favor.”
“Right. All this because you want me to cook for you.”
Tess actually snorted. “Cooking’s a strong word.”
“Oh, is it?” Laurel asked. “You do it then.”
She raised her eyebrows pointedly, then returned to the glasses she was grabbing from the cabinet.
There weren’t many people in Boston who could get away with talking to Tess like that; Laurel had become one of a rare few.
Tess wouldn’t have used the word “friend”—fuck, she didn’t even know if she’d call Joel a friend; the word felt pointless in the world they were living in—but Laurel wasn’t a stranger. Not a partner, but not exactly an acquaintance either.
Over the last five months, they’d fallen into a mutually beneficial relationship. It was supposed to be over and done with after Tess returned that damn blanket, but then it’d been Laurel’s turn to ask for a favor.
“Hey, you uh—you’re a trader, right?”
Tess had stopped in the hallway, turning back with an incredulous look. “Excuse me?”
“You trade…stuff,” Laurel attempted to clarify with a shifty glance down the hallway.
“Jesus—” Exasperated, Tess brushed past her and stormed back into the apartment. She didn’t continue until the door was closed tight. “If you’re looking for more pills, it’s gonna cost—”
“No, no, no,” Laurel jumped in. “Not pills—alcohol.”
“Go to a damn bar.”
“You and I both know that watered down crap isn’t worth a damn. I need something stronger.”
Tess had cocked an eyebrow. “For cleaning or drinking?”
In return, Laurel had shrugged. “Both.”
Despite her annoyance, that was an attitude Tess could respect.
That had started a long chain of transactions—booze for fresh socks, hygiene products for hidden pockets added to their clothes, medical supplies for rations that were actually edible…
“Yeah,” Laurel announced, inspecting the crappy onion Tess provided. “I can work with that.”
She put it aside and turned her attention to the rest of the food. One bag of jerky went back in Tess’s pocket while the other was emptied out into an empty coffee can, followed by the bottle of water. Laurel briefly climbed on to the counter, reaching over the kitchen cabinets and blindly searching until she found what she was looking for. When she hopped back to the floor, it was with a small jar of onion powder. Tess still wasn’t sure how she made it, but she really didn’t care. All she knew was that it masked the sickening taste of the FEDRA jerky, and that made it well worth a trip through the market.
Laurel added a dash to the coffee can, sealed it up, and gave it a quick shake. Then she placed it on the counter and held up her hands, wiggling her fingers for added effect.
“Thanks, Chef,” Tess scoffed.
The jab went unacknowledged as Laurel grabbed a hunting knife—previously provided by Tess—and stabbed it into the onion. She got a few slices in before her eyes flicked back up to her guest.
“Can you entertain yourself for half an hour?”
“Yeah.” Tess pulled a flask from her jacket and, this time, she did smile. “I can work with that.”
After that, the apartment fell quiet, silent expect for the rhythmic thunk of the knife and occasional turn of a page as Tess sat on the couch and leafed through one of Laurel’s books. She’d been expecting—well, she didn’t know exactly, but something to read for starters. There were some novels, sure, but most of them seemed more like workbooks, full of grids and pencil marks and mixed up letters. Tess flipped through it for a few minutes, reading the instructions, before she gave up.
“The fuck do you have this for?”
“Hm?” Laurel briefly looked up from her so-called cooking. “It’s a puzzle book.”
“Yeah, I know that. I’m not blind. I mean why do you have it?”
“What, just because it’s the apocalypse, I can’t have hobbies?”
“Sure, you can, but you already sew and stitch people up for kicks. I figured you’d want to double down on that instead of useless brainteasers.”
There was a moment as Laurel finished her dicing, scraping the bits of onion onto a scrap piece of metal and placing it on the window sill. When she turned back to Tess, it was with a thoughtful frown.
“I like having something else to think about on community shifts. Goes faster.”
Tess grudgingly tilted her head in agreement, but didn’t comment. Even living with Joel, smuggling high-demand goods, she had to work community shifts. Sweeping the street, shoveling shit, burning bodies, and starting all over again—it was bleak work. No wonder Laurel would rather focus on a riddle or code or some shit instead of the weight of a kid’s body.
“It keeps me sane,” Laurel said simply. “That’s not useless. I learned that real quick. When this all started, I used to—”
“Uh-uh,” Tess interrupted, raising a finger. “Nope. No backstories.”
Laurel huffed, but held up her hands in surrender, turning instead to pour herself her own drink.
No backstories. That was the rule they’d settled on. It was a rule Tess tried to live by, wherever she could. Knowing people meant understanding them, and that meant sympathy, emotional connection. That was a risk she couldn’t afford to take. She was already on a slippery slope living with Joel, knowing Tommy, their relationship, their past, Sara…
No. Tess had no intention of handing out the details of her weaknesses. And she wouldn’t risk getting attached to anyone else.
Laurel plucked the puzzle book from Tess’s hands as she walked past. “I like cryptograms, so shoot me. What do you do for fun?”
“I don’t know, just…”
Tess trailed off. The word “fun” felt a lot like the word “friend”—pointless. What even qualified as fun these days? A day she didn’t have to carry corpses? Getting to take a hot shower? Blowing off some steam in a fist fight?
Not that she’d ever say it out loud, but the closest thing she had to “fun” was Joel. Fun was listening to the two cassette tapes they had over and over again. Fun was breaking into a shitty bottle of moonshine and talking about nothing and everything for hours. Fun was trying to play poker with half a deck of cards when they knew there was no real way to win. Half their shared moments were things she’d rather forget, things that plagued them both at night and made it tough to sleep, but the rest…
“Nothing,” Tess said at last. “You’re right. I don’t do anything for fun.”
“Clearly,” said Laurel, without looking up from the page. “Maybe that’s your problem.”
“Yeah? You gonna prescribe me a crossword, Doc?”
Laurel almost managed to hide her laugh in her cup. “Sure. Five letter word for Tess.”
“Great?”
“Try again.”
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andy-clutterbuck · 4 years
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Red Nose Day | 2017
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dojunie · 2 years
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ITWD [CH 1]; Wolves? Not as ravenous as one may think.
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[★]; TWO BOYS. TWO UNIVERSITIES. TWO RIVALING TEAMS. And then there’s you, stuck weightlessly in the middle of it. The time left on the clock is running out— and soon, you’re going to have to pick a side.
[itwd masterlist] [next part]
sneak peek; You'd caught him staring at you quite a few times during warm up. Eyebrows always furrowed and bottom lip pulled perpetually between his teeth, watching you unreadably like he was deliberating something very hard. Had he just been oogling, you would have simply ignored it— but for some reason, you felt like whatever was running through his brain was a little more weighted than just stealing glances. "Hey you," you whisper. "01. I never got your name." The unclear look in his eyes doesn't waver when he glances at you. "...Jeno. Lee Jeno."
wc; 7.7k
warnings; none!
a/n: here's the first chapter of INTO THE WOLVES DEN! it's finally here! im probably going to make a separate post talking about update schedules and whatnot, so look out for that! thanks for reading!
taglist; @aedreamzy @grassbutneo
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YOU AWAKEN TO NOISE. NOISY NOISE.
Not normal, expected sounds, like someone tromping around in the dorm above yours, or the early-bird tennis player that lives two doors down thwacking a ball around in the confines of their own room— because you can sleep through that no problem now, after all, since you've been living here for an entire week— but something closer. Something urgent and unyielding, thudding in your ears even after you roll over and pull your pillow desperately over your head.
The sun is still rising and someone is pounding on your bedroom door.
"What?" you cry. It comes out a tad ragged, like the last thing you’d done before you went to sleep last night was eat shards of glass. "What is it?"
The door squeaks on its hinges as it swings open, and your roommate Yooyoung pokes her head in with a pout so big that it can be seen even in the early morning light. What time is it?
“Don’t ‘what’ me. You told me to wake you up when I got up for practice.”
“Prac…tice?”
Being awoken so suddenly is wreaking havoc on your brain power. Practice, she’d said. Practice? Yooyoung played volleyball. You did not play volleyball. You haven’t had to wake up for practice in months. Why the hell would you—
“The basketball thing, remember? With your dad?”
She rolls her eyes after a moment, sounding exasperated. “Do not tell me you forgot today was the first day of classes, Y/N-ah. It's Monday. Are you serious right now?” And then, under her breath, “What am I going to do with you…?”
You mutter something rude in response, but now that she’s mentioned your father, the reason why you needed her to essentially beat your door down begins to form in murky clarity. First day of classes? (What an understatement. First day of your new life, more like it.)
White sunlight streams through the window of your dorm. Despite how short of a time you’ve been here, the room is already a mirror image of your personality: all your sneakers lined up messily against the closet, the signed Larry Bird jersey frame hanging behind your door (courtesy of Chenle’s incredibly expensive and completely bonkers idea of a ‘gag gift’), and a few of your favorite trophies scattered on various shelves; a dozen little peeks into your inner workings with the music posters on your walls and the pictures of your friends splattered on every blank surface.
You gaze over the photos, lingering on the newest addition— a shitty, half blurred, off-center photo Chenle took of you and Jaemin at Han River a few months ago— before turning to your dorm mate and rubbing the crusties out of your eyes.
“Maybe you should’ve woken me up with a soft, Baekhyun ballad or something then. Not your hulky volleyball punches. I thought we were being raided.”
Yooyoung just laughs a tinkling sound, blonde pony swinging as she disappears from behind the white oak.
Having succeeded in her mission of waking you up, you assume she’s off to clean up for her own early morning activities— varsity captain things that you do not envy— which leaves you to grumble and stew in the terribly bright sunlight of 8AM by yourself.
You should probably follow in her footsteps and go wash your face.
It would wake you up a little faster. It would give you something to do that isn’t sitting around and moping for the next hour before you’re actually obligated to get ready.
Washing your face would also rid you of any morning crusties that linger. It’s a good, formidable, and responsible idea…
…Which means that you only consider it for a second or two, max, before you flop back down into your mattress, kicking around until you’re completely resituated back under the duvet.
The magnetic pull of screwing around on your phone wins out over being a productive human being for a whopping thirty minutes. You spend that time scrolling through Instagram, texting stupid memes to your friends even though they’re definitely not awake yet, shouting goodbye to Yooyoung when she leaves for practice, and eventually end up succumbing to one of those stupid ads that show someone playing a mobile game just terribly enough to piss you off and make you download it out of spite.
It's right as you’re about to angrily sink five dollars into said game (cutting pixelated soap with a boxcutter), that a text swoops down from the top of the screen and allows your bank account a few more seconds to live.
[PapaPointGuard, 8:49AM] Hey, Kiddo. You mind coming into the practice court at 9:30 instead of 10? I'm in an emergency meeting w dean about scheduling. Need someone to set up drills and make sure everything is good just in case it goes over. [PapaPointGuard, 8:50AM] You sure you remember how to place the cones for through-backs? Ha Ha Ha
Very funny. You’d roll your eyes if you knew anyone besides you could see it.
[You 8:50AM] haha yourself, old man. It’s been six months, not a hundred years. i could probably set up tb's in my sleep. [You 8:51AM] i oughta report u to the labor board though for having me up at the asscrack of dawn [PapaPointGuard, 8:51AM] Language, Ace [PapaPointGuard, 8:51AM] And wear something nice, please [PapaPointGuard, 8:51AM] That means no basketball shorts or hoodies. I want the team to think of you like an extension of me, and to take you seriously as an aide to them this season. [PapaPointGuard, 8:52AM] And I know you’d never do anything to jeopardize your health, but remember our talk, yeah? Love you.
Your eyes trail over the last text one, two, and then three times, and your smile slips a little bit more with every iteration.
Of course, you think bitterly, climbing mood instantly taking a blow. Wouldn’t be a conversation with him without that, huh?
Shaking your head, you're about to petulantly toss your phone aside when the sudden ringtone makes you jump— Day 1, by Honne— and your dour mood stops right in its tracks.
Accept call from... 'Na Nana'?
Your frown slowly melts into a smile. He always has had inhumanly perfect timing.
“Oof,” Jaemin laughs. His voice is faint from how far he’d pulled the speaker from his ear after you squealed into the receiver, and you hear the distant chatter of other guys in the background too— was he at the practice gym already? “How are you so giddy this early?” he asks sleazily, a smile obvious in his voice. “It’s because it’s me calling, right? Right?”
“You wish,” you grin. “Gamdogja’s first official practice is today, so I was already awake. You’re calling me from practice too?”
“Yes ma’am. Got a few minutes before we warm up, so I thought I’d bother you. What are you doing?”
“Uhhhh. Good question?”
Putting on the clothes you piled up on your desk last night is what you’re supposed to be doing right now, considering that you’ve now got half an hour less to get ready to leave, but you’d forgotten about that instantly when the phone rang. Oops.
“I’m gonna put you on speaker so I can change, cool?”
“Icy cool. Actually, that reminds me of what Mark and I were talking about last night— we were saying how funny it would be if you wore a Yonsei Basketball shirt to their practice. Like, the brightest, bluest jersey you own, just to really rub it into those guys where your loyalties lay, y’know?”
You roll your eyes at how he cackles. “That sounds suspiciously like something you’d come up with without Mark’s help. You want me to get jumped, is that it? So I’ll come crying back to Yonsei?”
“Jumped isn’t the word for it, but you know if it meant you’d come back…”
“You’re sick, Na.”
Flinging the phone onto your pillow, you rush through tugging the GDSC Basketball shirt over your head and wiggling into your jeans. Before you can ask where Chenle is, belatedly surprised that your phone call with Jaemin hasn’t been interrupted yet by the screechy shooting guard, the universe answers that question for you.
“Noonaaaaa!” His high tone cuts through the air and makes you wince even from halfway across your room. There he is.
“Thought you could escape me, huh, traitor? Are you feeling bad yet?”
There’s a sharp smack on the line. Then the sound of muffled bickering. All you catch is Jaemin’s ‘If you wanna talk, call her yourself!’ before he’s back, huffing into the receiver.
“Anyway! Before I was so rudely cut off, I was going to ask why you're getting ready so early. I thought the wolves were on a mid-start schedule?”
“They are,” you explain as you lace your sneakers. (Do you have to start saying ‘we’ from now on, since you're technically a Timberwolf now…? Ugh. Identity politics.) “But Coach needs me to come in earlier today and set up drills because he’s talking to the dean about something or other.”
“Oh. So your official first day of coaching those brats is about to begin, then?”
“You know I’m not allowed to call them that, Jaem, and I’m not coaching them. I’m doing the same thing I used to do with you guys: Setting up drills, going over movebooks, conditioning, strategy talks…”
You easily list off all the tasks you’d had a hand in helping with when your dad coached Jaemin and the others at Yonsei. “All the regular stuff.”
“The ‘regular stuff’ for you is basically a coach’s salary worth of work, you know. Man, maybe Chenle was right— you’re totally a traitor, Y/N-ah. How are we supposed to compete when they’ve got your big brain behind their plays?”
You’re done getting ready. Realistically, you actually needed to go now if you wanted to get to the court for 9AM, but the last thing you wanted to do was tell Jaemin that. Even if it was through the phone, his voice was the most familiar thing you’ve had the luxury of bringing with you from Yonsei to GDSC— and it’s also the only thing keeping you from thinking about the fact that, in a few hours, you were going to be standing in front of a whole team of Gamdogja Timberwolves basketball players, alone— and the idea of being without him so soon brings a pit to your stomach.
So, instead of telling Jaemin you need to hang up like a normal person: you plop down on your bed and bring the phone back to your ear.
“I’m not a traitor,” you mutter tersely after a moment. “You guys act like I wanted this. To transfer here and leave all my friends behind. I didn’t.”
Even behind your half joking tone, Jaemin must sense the truth in your voice because he only makes a soft hum. “...Yeah. Yeah, I know. I said something stupid, right? I’m sorry. It’s just… weird not having you here.”
“Imagine how weird I feel. It’s like everyone here at Gamdogja is some walking, talking, sports anime caricature, Jaem. No one is allowed to just like soccer passively, or screw around with tennis for fun on the weekends— every student here is the absolute best at whatever they play. I tried to join a pick-up game of badminton yesterday and almost got laughed out of the park.”
“...Badminton? Wow. Don’t you know those freaks will take that game to the death? You should have known better, Y/N-ah, than to try—”
A whistle in the background of Jaemin’s call drags his attention, snapping you out of your grin as well. Shit. You’d gotten kind of carried away again.
Your wall clock now reads an unforgiving, blinking 9:02AM, and the reality of your situation once again hits you with unforgiving speed. You really needed to get going.
“Hold on,” Jaemin says, voice quickly solidifying, taking on a more distracted edge. From the sounds of it he must have to go too. “Coach Hyo is about to start conditioning so I’ve got to hang up soon— But before I go, you’re still coming to our first game on Friday right? The, uh… the team was asking me last night. I mean I don’t know if you remember but it’s on my birthday, so you’re kind of obligated—”
“Na Jaemin I cannot believe you just said that.”
“What! I don’t know, maybe you’ve already gone and made a bunch of cool, know-it-all private school friends. With all the new birthdays you might’ve put in your planner, who knows if you’ll remember mine.”
“You are such a baby. First of all, you know I don’t use a planner. And second of all, I’ve had your birthday basically tattooed in my calendar since we were eleven! I’ve been gone barely a week, and you’re already starting to doubt me? And you say I’m the traitor?”
He only giggles at your indignancy. Brat.
“Mmm… fine. I guess I’ll believe you, Ace. And I’ll call you tonight, alright? Don’t— Jesus, Chenle, I’m coming! You go start the relay if you care so much!— Uh… yeah, don’t let any of those snotty Wolves get you down, okay? Later!”
And without a moment for you to give him your goodbye, the line goes dead and your best friend drifts back into his own world.
Much like you should be, you suppose. But instead, for the third time this morning, you neglect being responsible and flop back onto your duvet for a moment of silence.
Just a week, right? Just a week. Actually, if you wanted to get specific, it was more like five days. You just had to get through five days before you could see him and all your friends again. It feels like endless forever right now, but that was probably because not being pasted to Jaemin's side for longer than a few days practically is forever to you. He's been your other half for half your life.
When you were sulking about the transfer a few weeks ago, your dad had tried to cheer you up by mentioning that it might be a good thing to separate you two for a little while.
"Maybe you guys need this," he'd said. "You both rarely talk to or about anyone else but each other, Ace. New perspectives is never a bad thing, and hell, maybe not being stuck to each other for 23 hours a day will teach you something new about yourselves. Try new things. Meet new people."
To which you'd so quickly replied with, "I know other people!" before he said the rest of the basketball team didn't count, and then... well.
He'd won the debate pretty quickly after that.
You look at the clock on your desk. 9:06, now. With a sigh, you finally force yourself to your feet.
Sitting around in here reminiscing surely wouldn't help your mood; and your first day in the wolves den wouldn’t start itself.
The TB is set up so quickly and so easily, that at first, you're sure you've done something wrong.
Orange cones on the half court line, white cones on the two. Three black and red, brand new basketballs on the half for whoever started the TB. That’s it, right? You'd gone over it twice to make sure you wouldn't get shunned out of the gymnasium for setting up the wrong drill or something stupid like that, but it was good. Perfectly placed.
They're all there, sitting pretty on their points for the team, but... it was only 9:35. You were already done.
And practice didn't start until 10:30.
You really didn’t think this through, and it seems like your dad didn’t either: What the hell were you supposed to do in here for an hour?
Sitting and just waiting was out of the question. All the good that would do is give your thoughts free reign. You look around listlessly and are only met with boring red stadium seats, an empty press box, and vast… silent gymnasium.
(With hindsight being what it is, it should have probably been around this exact point where your brain rumbled to life; where it realized where exactly these thoughts were going to lead. Where the brakes should have been pulled.
But, while regret is a constant in your life, common sense is not— and it should have been a surprise to absolutely nobody what you did next.)
Your hips creak as you bend over to scoop up one of the basketballs.
The dotted leather is firm against your fingertips when you spin it innocently between your palms a few times.
Truly, there’s no reason to pretend. If someone were to see you right now there’s no way they wouldn’t know what was about to happen, but feigning vague interest in the chemical make-up of a basketball makes you feel a little less guilty.
You turn and gauge the distance from here to the other backboard. It’s a little less than half court. 30 feet maybe, and you can practically hear Jaemin in your ear clicking his tongue at you in that way he knows you hate when you hesitate to bring the ball above your head.
'You know better," he'd scold. 'Your heart is pounding because you know you shouldn't be doing this.'
'One free throw has literally never killed anybody,' you think back bitterly.
Ugh. Almost out of spite now, you bend your knees and leap, watching with squinted eyes as it sinks through the net.
Swish!
Well...Alright. You guess you've still got it.
Half court has never been anything crazy to you, so you're not sure why you're so pleased that it went in; but it has been a few months after all. You hesitate a little before you retrieve the basketball, feeling like your lungs are taking up your whole chest when you walk it back a little further than halfway.
Just to see, of course, and what do you know. You make that basket too. But it could have been a fluke! A product of the wind... although you're inside a closed gymnasium, but who knows?
You'll only be sure if you do a few more test shots.
The minutes tick by without your knowledge and you lose count of how many baskets you make.
The intensity grows as well, your silent steps evolving into sharp thuds as you mindlessly go from easy free-throws to full solo attack plays... and fortunately for you, messing around like this is a great cure for boredom.
Unfortunately for you, it turns out to be a great cure for everything else, too— including self awareness.
So it's no surprise that you don't hear the sound of the double doors clicking open.
You only stop when you miss for the very first time. The luck had to run out eventually; you toss the ball wildly at the last second of your imaginary buzzer, and the warble of it cracking off the rim and off the court entirely rings out like a curse. The ball goes completely left field and at this you actually curse; breathing a little hard, you lazily watch it bounce off towards the sidelines forlornly.
Damn.
That’s about as bold a sign to cut it out as any, you think. God, you’re even sweating a little when you jog off to get the ball, returning it to it’s spot on the TB while you wipe your forehead with your wrist.
What time is it? It couldn’t have been that long, you barely—
“That last one was pretty close.”
Your eyes fly open.
Instantly, the gym shrinks. The pleasant warmth in your body turns ice cold.
You would have probably been embarrassed about the wail that came out of your mouth if you weren’t so, so startled; and when you instinctually whirl around to the source of the voice, you're not sure what you're expecting to see.
A murderer, maybe; Possibly a demon. Both would be pretty bad.
A vengeful basketball ghost might be the worst of all.
But of all the things you're expecting to be there when you turn, a boy standing on the other side of the court isn't one of them.
Just... a boy.
He’s dressed head to toe in red Timberwolf gear, but that’s the last thing you take care to notice.
"If you pull in your elbows," he starts, completely unfazed by your scream, "It’ll give you a little more accuracy—"
"What the hell, dude?!"
It comes out a little harsher than you'd intended, cardiac arrest and all, but all he does is blink. The pause gives you enough time to calm your pounding heart and drop back to reality. You’d been about to check the time before he materialized and more urgently than ever, your eyes fly to the scoreboard clock on the wall behind his head.
10:15, it reads.
But... that can’t be right, right? 40 minutes have passed?
“Oh," the boy says suddenly, slowly, and you snap back to him. “Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you, I thought you heard me come in."
You didn’t. At all. How your howl of absolute terror didn’t tip him off to that you have no clue.
He reaches up to rub the back of his neck, and the movement drags you to his attire again. There’s a white ‘01’ stitched onto his sleeve under the tiny Timberwolf mascot and your eyes zero in on it. That’s a jersey number, isn’t it? That’s… a jersey number.
Oh, God. Wait.
"You’re on the basketball team?"
"Yeah,” 01 says. You hope he can’t see how you grimace.
A brief silence falls. You'd thought a lot about how your first interaction with a Timberwolf would go, and whatever was happening right now was not one of them. You stand there are stare at him for what feels like years, half embarrassed you'd been caught running around in here by yourself, and half mortified it was a Timberwolf of all people who'd caught you doing it.
You're expecting him to leave, or go sit down. Maybe even just stand there like he'd no doubt been doing for however long before he decided to say something.
None of those things is what he actually does, though, which is continue to talk to you.
“What about you?"
“What?”
"The girls basketball team," he clarifies.
“Oh, no— No. I’m not an athlete here,” you explain hastily. “I was just, uh. Screwing around. Shouldn't there be more of you?"
"They're outside," he responds simply. "One of the vending machines in the quad broke and it's spitting things out for 100 won instead of a thousand. They're trying to drain it before campus security finds out and fixes it."
"Oh," you say. That sounds like something Jaemin and Chenle would do. "You don't like vending machine snacks...?"
"More like I have no interest in getting arrested over a melted bag of Skittles."
01 doesn't say anything else after this, only pushes his hands deeper into his pants pockets.
Now is a better time than any to introduce yourself properly, right? But before you can tell him who you are, you're interrupted by the sound of an explosion. Or, wait. Scratch that— when you startle for the second time in five minutes (which cannot be good for your heart) you realize that it was not an explosion, but the sound of one of the double doors swinging open at mach speed and slamming into the solid wall behind it. Then, before you even have time to be worried about it, things get a lot more crowded.
Explaining yourself to 01 suddenly seems like the least of your problems.
Sneakers squeak onto the glaze without a care in the world. Bubbling chatter fills the air, player names and numbers flashing on the back of jackets like an out of control score keeper; The rest of the Timberwolves basketball team finally make their awaited appearance. They move in one rolling mass, a compact sea of red tracksuits and surprisingly shiny hair, nice wide smiles and boyish laughter.
The only thing that keeps your stomach from twisting into nervous knots is the fact that your father is in the group too, smiling warmly when he sees you.
"Ace!" he calls out. "There you are!"
Shit. Shit, okay. No more fun, casual conversation. It's time.
"Here I am," you call back. Coach points at his clipboard beckons you over but before you go, movement over by 01 catches your eye.
There are three others with him now. Two of them are oddly lumpy in the stomach area. The taller lumpy one, a boy with dirty blonde hair and possibly the most adorable baby-bird pout in the world, looks around suspiciously before tugging a bag of candy from the collar of his jacket and stuffing it into 01's hand like it's contraband and not... a bag of candy.
You already find the sight kind of curious before you recognize the red and rainbow packaging— it's Skittles the boy has given him— and the coincidence makes your smile only grow.
At least he won't have to go to jail over it, you think to yourself.
After Coach goes over the practice schedule with you, the sections he would have you run while he monitored other things, you’re actually feeling pretty good about everything.
(Good enough to plaster a convincingly relaxed smile on your face, at least.)
You stand behind your father when he blows his whistle to start practice officially and try to look pleasant as the Timberwolves all shuffle from their respective little groups and corners into a half circle around your dad, and consequently, you.
“Good morning, team!” Coach bellows.
A cacophony of deep, still-tired timbres croon back something illegible.
“Ah… Nothing like a bunch of babies crying to liven up my morning, huh? How about we try that again?”
Some of them snicker. “Good morning, Coach!” they shout back, much more lively.
“That’s more like it! So! As you all already know from last week’s briefing, Mr.Woobin, our beloved co-coach, had a… homely event come up recently. One that rendered him unable to participate with us for a while. On such short notice, getting a coach before the season starts tomorrow night—"
At this a few players whoop and holler, and you’re a little surprised when quiet 01 is one of them.
“Yeah, yeah. I wouldn’t be hooting if I had averages like yours, Choi.”
A few ‘Ooh’s join the mix.
“Anyhow. Like I was saying…”
Your dad turns to you expectantly, and you take this as a silent cue to walk forward until you’re line to line with him.
“I’d like to introduce you all to my daughter, Y/N. She’s going to be my co-coach until Woobin returns from his leave. Y/N?”
Showtime.
You scan over their faces as you greet them as lively as they greeted Coach— many eyebrows furrow in curiosity, and a few of the bolder ones even wink when your eyes meet theirs. You fold your arms over your chest to mirror the stance of most of the men in front of you, straightening your posture so you look a little bigger as they quite obviously size you up.
“Like my dad said, you all can call me Y/N. While this is my first official week at GDSC, Coach has told me many good things about this team over the summer. I’m excited to see it first hand, if you’ll have me.”
Unsure of what else to add, you decide to open up the floor for the inquiries they no doubt have. “Any questions…?”
Multiple hands shoot up.
Your eyes land on the same tall, lumpy blonde from earlier, though he’s now mysteriously lacking any extra curves. “You, uh… 05.”
“Hi,” the boy says hesitantly. His voice is much deeper than you’d been expecting by the innocence of his face. “I’m, uh… Jisung. Park Jisung… I’m usually small forward, but sometimes I do other stuff. How old are you?”
“I’m twenty-one years old, Jisung-Who-Plays-Forward. But I don’t care all that much about honorifics and all that, so you can call me whatever you want. Just Y/N is cool with me.”
He smiles slowly and nods like he’s satiated, so you move on to the others.
“06?”
“Hey,” Number 6 says, voice a little smoother, almost melodious. “My name is Donghyuck, but everyone just calls me Hyuck. I cover power forward. Where’d you go before this?”
… Ah. Shit. There’s the first dreaded question. You hope the way your smile falters isn’t too obvious.
“I transferred here from Yonsei.”
This phrase causes exactly the ripple you’d expected it to. A handful of eyebrows shoot up. One person ‘boooo’s playfully. A few members even glance at each other, but thankfully no one outwardly scowls or spits on you or anything.
06, or ‘Donghyuck’ now, merely grins amongst his curious friends.
Tongue poking out from between his teeth, he tilts his head in innocent question. “Did you transfer here cause we’re better?”
A snort nearly rips it’s way out of your throat. Jaemin would get a kick out of that for sure.
“You can prove to me just how good this team is at the first game, yeah, 06?”
A few more ‘Oooh’s, but Donghyuck just grins even wider like the teasing has only energized him. So far, gaining their respect or appreciation or whatever seemed to be going easier than you thought it would be. You’re admittedly feeling a little giddy at how smoothly this is going until your eyes land on the less than pleased gaze of a shorter one in the front… and then to the hand he’s got up by his head. Yikes.
“…10?”
“Liu Yangyang,” he says simply. “Captain. Center. Do you even play?”
And there it is. The second dreaded question.
The obvious reluctance in your response doesn’t matter though. Because before you can even think of what to say, wanting nothing more than to shut down his obvious disbelief with a resounding ‘Yes’, your father is butting in for you.
“No,” he says factually, and you freeze.
Liu Yangyang’s eyes slide between you and your dad like he isn’t sure who to look at— and 01, who’d basically caught you pretending to be Stephen Curry in this gym not even ten minutes ago, is just straight up staring at you.
“Y/N doesn’t play. She can, however, coach the hell out of a few meatheads like you lot; which is why she’s going to run you all through a few warm-up rotations while I get the projector up for the season schedule.”
You can only blink before he wanders off towards the press box, completely absorbed in looking over the sheets on his clipboard and not at all noticing the stunned look on your face.
“What Coach means," you start, rerouting quickly to fill the awkward silence, "Is that you don’t have to worry that I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve been around this sport since before I could walk, and I’ve had years of experience with coaching and game strategy.”
Most of them merely nod.
“So!” you continue with a smile, clapping your hands together, “Uh, anyway! Until I’m more familiar with you guys I’ll probably just be referring to you by number. Is that cool?”
“You remember mine, don’t you?” Donghyuck asks sweetly, and you falter at the sudden gooey look he’s sending you. What’s with that tone?
“Yeah. Do…Hyung, right?”
He immediately looks so scandalized that you lose the façade and laugh.
“Kidding! I know you, Donghyuck. Go warm up.”
He pouts at your teasing, but he goes.
You didn’t enlist anything too cruel off the bat; just the regular gamut of jumping jacks, joint rolling and high-knees before pushing for the more taxing things like holding stretches and quick-pulls. They listen surprisingly well, which is a plus they’ve got on Yonsei; those white and blue punks couldn’t follow instructions if their lives depended on it. The projector finally descends from the ceiling right as the warm up ends.
You clap your hands proudly and direct them over to the stadium seats when you’re finished terrorizing their muscles.
You’re the last one over to the benches because you’re too busy turning the gym lights off and by the time you get there, the only space left is between Donghyuck and 01. Hyuck scoots over and pats the empty seat right between him proudly. It’s cute— so you laugh and indulge him.
Despite his obvious show of interest, though: it’s the guy on the other side of you that you find yourself curious about as you sit down.
01. Skittles, as you’d taken to calling him in your head.
You’d caught him staring at you quite a few times during warm up. Eyebrows always furrowed and bottom lip pulled perpetually between his teeth, watching you unreadably like he was deliberating something very hard. Had he just been oogling, you would have simply ignored it— but for some reason, you felt like whatever was running through his brain was a little more weighted than just stealing glances.
“Hey you,” you whisper. “I never got your name.”
The unclear look in his eyes doesn’t disappear when he looks at you.
“Jeno. Lee Jeno.”
And then almost as an afterthought, he adds, “Shooting guard. And my question is… My question is if I shouldn’t mention the basketball thing to anyone. From before practice.”
What? At first you have no idea what he’s talking about, too caught up on how cute it is that he’s still referring to the Q&A format from earlier, but then he glances over your dad up in the press booth and it hits you.
“Oh. Oh.” You feel your eye twitch. “I mean. I would really appreciate that, actually. Yeah. Thanks.”
“Okay.”
Jeno turns back to the projector screen like he’d never been talking to you in the first place, still gnawing at his bottom lip, but you can’t help but ask.
“Is that what had your mind so preoccupied during the warm-up?”
A very long second passes before he speaks again.
“Was it that noticeable?”
“A little. I could feel the heat on the back of my neck.”
“Sorry,” he mutters.
“Sorry? It was really smart of you to pick up on that, though. Why sorry?”
“In case you thought it was weird.”
Jesus. Were you talking to a saint? For him to be as tough looking as he is and still apologize to someone he just met for maybe possibly being weird…
The slides on the schedule reel are ticking by and you’re sure Jeno is only half paying attention because he’s busy talking to you, so you just smile at him and turn back to the front.
“You weren’t being weird. It was nice. Watch the video.”
“Okay,” he says again.
It’s the last thing of substance that you say to him for the next few hours, being that immediately after the slideshow ends, Coach reappears on the court to whip them into the first run of practice practice— a 5v5 on the court with five off conditioning, rotating every twenty minutes.
You’re in charge of running the conditioning and very quickly you deem your first set of players ‘The Troublemakers’.
The leader of which is a mischievous Lee Donghyuck, who you become well acquainted with through the fact that he’s probably the cheesiest, touchiest, most giggly college basketball starter you’ve ever met.
At one point the shifty bunch managed to swindle you into a deal; they'd finish the rest of conditioning without complaining or messing around if you just answered each of their curiosities about your life, to which you'd begrudgingly agreed. It was how they found out you were an avid Chicago Bulls fan (Moonbin), allergic to lemons and oranges (Sanha), loved all colors too much to pick a favorite (Felix, though he'd called you a hack for not choosing one), listened to mainly R&B (Hyunjin), and, finally, that you were single (to the smug, pleased grin of one Lee Donghyuck).
After your playful bunch get rotated out, you receive ‘The Flirts’. Choi Beomgyu, who you learn wears his emotions on his sleeve… also apparently says them outright because not even five minutes in he verbally declares his love for you. His reaction to your slack-jawed stare is a sly smile, and a shrugged ‘What? I just wanted to be the first.’
Choi Soobin bickers with him, Kang Taehyun, and Choi Yeonjun for the rest of the session on who has the better chance of winning your heart, even though you’re literally right there.
The last group you get are the quiet ones. You don’t even have to nickname them because they’re simply that easy.
Jung Sungchan is here, who utters not a word to anyone except to shyly tell you your shoe is untied at the 25 minute mark. There’s Huang Renjun, who you’re sure is some other sort of demon on the court because he’s naturally very angry looking and positively tiny, and from experience you’ve learned to recognize the type.
Park Sunghoon is here too, who you actually have to beg to do the conditioning (he gives in once you weaponize your pout though, so you know he has a heart somewhere under those long legs of his), and finally, your introspective friend comes along too. 01.
Lee Jeno merely nods when he approaches, sweaty and heavy footed, and drops into his conditioning before you even need to bug him about it.
“Don’t push too hard, kid,” you mumble to Jeno when he just blows past the fifty calf lifts with no intention of stopping. “You’ve got a game next week, remember? Sore legs last forever.”
He slows to a stop, eyeing you silently before pressing his back flat against the wall to sink into a wall-sit.
“We’re the same age, you know.”
“We are?”
He only nods. He’s still looking at you, though, so you take that as an invitation to keep the conversation going.
“You look young. What’s your major, 01?”
“Audio engineering.”
You raise an eyebrow, and his gaze slides from you to something behind your head— probably the clock to see how long he has left. Once he’s not boring two holes in your face, you find yourself finally able to get a good look at him from closer than an entire basketball court away.
Maybe you hadn’t noticed it when he’d almost scared you to death earlier, but now that he was here in front of you, it was actually almost ridiculous how statuesque the guy was. Short, neatly cut, ink black hair. A jawline that could probably shatter stone. You don’t think you’ve ever seen a mouth like his either, bow-shaped lips that naturally curled up at the edges even when the boy was completely straight faced like he was right now— and a strong, straight nose right above it.
Dark eyes that eventually found yours as you stood there and oogled him monitored his wall sit.
“You play any instruments?” you continue curiously.
“Three.”
“Cool. Which ones?”
“Guitar, piano and bass.”
You could definitely see guitar and bass, but piano? You wouldn't peg him for a sonata-type.
“Do you?” he adds.
“Do I what? Play any instruments?”
He nods and you shrug. “Played drums in my high school pep band, but I was pretty terrible at it.”
“You were a band kid?”
“Yep. And an emo one at that. Just imagine me but in all black and all tired looking, with bleached, spiked hair. I looked insane.”
He gives you a look. “So now, without the bleach?”
What. Jeno’s face cracks into a big, adorable lopsided grin when your eyes go wide— and you almost reach over to swat him before you remember that 1. you’ve known him for like two hours, and 2. You are currently kind of his coach and that’s a little weird. So you settle with gasping scandalously and kicking the side of his sneaker with your own.
“I’m kidding, by the way,” he says a moment later when he eases down out of the wall-sit. “I mean… I bet you looked pretty cool. Carrying a guitar case on campus makes me look like a douche. Drumsticks would be so much easier.”
“I always assumed people who lugged guitars around were usually super-assholes or the coolest folk around. You don’t seem like the first type.”
You’re not looking at him as you say it, you’re picking at your nails, but the steadiness of his stare tells you he’s watching you anyway.
He sure is rather bold about the staring, you think. Even when you look up he doesn’t waver.
“Are you coming to the barbeque tonight?”
It’s obvious the question catches you off guard by the way your eyebrows jump.
“It’s tradition to get BBQ on the first day of practice,“ he elaborates. "It’s not a school event, so it’s not mandatory or anything. Just a thing the team does every season. Are you coming?”
“Ah…That’s just for team members, isn’t it?”
“You’re our coach now though.”
Oh. “Okay… well, assistant coach, firstly, and I don’t know if I’d go that far—”
“You have to come!” a voice behind you shouts suddenly, and the startled sound you make is nearly inhuman. Donghyuck is there when you turn, your apparent new shadow, looking chipper and happy and completely undeterred by the sea of sweat running down his face. He plucks up the water bottle at your feet without a word and you don’t have the heart to tell him that it’s yours, not Jeno’s like you’re assuming he thinks it is, when he downs the whole thing in one go.
“No-Jam is right, you’re one of us now. Us wolves stick together. How are we gonna get to synergize with you or whatever if you don’t come and hang out with us…?”
“I mean…”
Man. Well. There’s nothing wrong with going, you suppose, but it feels a little overwhelming to be invited so easily. Ah, what are you doing? Isn’t this a good thing? You’re being invited out! Sure, the Gamdogja Timberwolves aren’t the exact type of friends you’d been intending to make today, but hell. It wasn’t like you knew anybody else yet.
And, even if most of your Yonsei friends thought they were all just stuck-up, arrogant private college kids— they’d been pretty damn nice to you so far.
“…Yeah. Yeah, okay sure. I’ll come. Where is this fabled BBQ place?”
Donghyuck whoops. Before he can answer, Coaches whistle blows from the court again, and a sea of groans and sneaker squeaking and bumbling bodies fills the air.
“Nevermind,” you laugh. “Off to the court with you two. Go. I’ll find you later.”
“Promise?” Donghyuck coos.
“Yes, Hyuck-ah, I promise. Begone.”
“Since you said it so sweetly~”
What a ham. You’re grinning as they leave though, oddly chipper, and wander over to where your father is standing when the rest of the boys reach the court. He hands you another clipboard when you get to him, 8 names listed next to a spreadsheet of sorts. He quickly goes over the plan for the last hour: splitting the team between your hoop and for 4v4s.
“How was the conditioning, by the way?” Coach asks. “I saw you got Sunghoon to do the wall sit. You’re performing miracles already.”
“Not many can say no to this face and live to tell the tale.”
He makes a knowing grunt of agreement and your groups separate. You’ve got Jeno, Donghyuck, Soobin and Yukhei, Yeonjun, Renjun, Sanha, and Sungchan in your half of the gym.
“What do you say we try a five minute scramble first, huh? First to 21 just to get the blood pumping?”
“My blood is already pumping,” Yukhei whines at you, bent over, hands on his knees. “What it needs to do is stop pumping. Be nice to me.”
“If your blood wasn’t pumping you’d be dead,” Sungchan says.
“So?”
Yeonjun rolls his eyes so hard that for a moment, you’re scared they won’t come back.
“Just get the damn basketball, pumper.”
Once they get into the groove, bickering and bantering and teasing fading into position call-outs and good-natured ribbing, you finally get your first glimpse at the true Timberwolf potential. And they’re all good. You come into this having no doubt about that, honestly.
Their technique is great, passing between each other with barely a second between one person and the next, the perfect balance of defense, offense, and speed. Even baby Sungchan, who you’d been sure was one of the tamer of the bunch, is throwing clutches and between-the-legs like it’s nothing.
They’re all ridiculously good.
But once Jeno gets to that ball, it’s like no one else is in the room.
You watch almost in a trance as he just… goes through people. He’s like a mirage when he gets the ball, and he gets the ball often— his teammates lobbing it to him at a milliseconds notice, to where he always just seems to be perpetually ready— and it’s like magic. He has the basketball for a moment, then he doesn’t, then it’s in the net and a bunch of people either groan or cheer and the game goes on.
With Jeno doing what he’s doing, his team gets to 21 points in about five minutes flat. Holy shit.
You send them off for a three minute break and try not to look appalled.
“Yeah,” someone says beside you, and you blink yourself out of your stupor.
Donghyuck is standing next to you looking smug. For what, you have no clue, until he juts his chin in the direction you were just staring as a hint— and you catch an eyeful of Jeno guzzling a water bottle down on the opposite sideline with a few of the other guys when you follow his gaze.
“He’s a monster, right? Injun and I think he used to eat basketballs when he was younger.”
You’re still too stunned to even laugh. “I mean all of you were… wow. For lack of a cooler phrase. You’re really goddamn good. I’m impressed.”
“Better than your Yonsei folk?”
This instantly gets you to break your reverie and Donghyuck howls with laughter at the sour face you pull. You're already so comfortable with this crew that you don't think twice before shoving him away from the sidelines with your elbow.
“Yeah alright, Hyuck. Way to ruin it for your buddies. Break over! Set up for lay-up drills!”
A chorus of groans meets you and you simply nod, accepting your whining and bereavement easily from your half of the squad as they shuttle back onto the court. You don’t notice the lack of one particular voice in the mix at first, the matching sharp black eyes watching you silently from the other end of the baseline— but by the time you glance in his direction, feeling the heat of someone’s gaze on your back, Jeno’s already looking away.
The rest of practice goes by pretty quickly after that and with the lot of them cracking jokes with you and actually listening to your advice and obsservations, it's actually pretty fun.
Maybe... Maybe this whole coaching thing wouldn't as dreadful as you'd presumed after all.
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strawbxrryneptune · 3 years
Text
When We Fall
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Warnings: Graphic sexual content including oral (Male and female receiving w 69) use of sir kink, light biting, pain kink, wing play, etc, mentions of suicide and character death, hints at cheating but it didn't happen, sacrilegious themes? I think?? You're fucking an angel so like,, that's pretty blasphemous lmao, fuckin in front of amirror, reverse cowgirl
It's gonna sound a little wonky at certain parts but bare with me, I'm bad at serious stuff.
^^Pictures do not belong to me !! I made the collage but the art is not mine^^
♡♡
Katsuki Bakugou never saw himself as worth saving. If he was dumb enough to fall behind, dumb enough to let things get too much, then it was on him.
If he was gonna be saved, it would be by himself. He didn't need anyone for anything. He told himself that for years, as a young angel in training, through his apprentice years, even now as a successful guardian.
He got this far by himself, why did he need anybody else? He didn't see that he was stuck. He couldn't move past this point without someone else. That's why Deku was the right hand man of The Highest and not Bakugou. Stupid, stupid, Deku. Bakugou was furious when the courts announced it. What did Deku have that he didn't? He was strong, he was powerful, and he got the job done. That's basically what you need to be a guardian angel, isn't it? When he had complained to the courts, all they had said was "Patience, young one." He had scoffed.
What did patience have to do with anything? He had plenty of patience. Patience was something he had to practice daily, dealing with the kinds of people he did.
He was always assigned to old people, dying out before he could even get attached. Not that attachment would be a problem. He was Bakugou Katsuki, for Christ's sake!! He didn't "get attached", especially to old farts.
That all changed once he was assigned to you.
You, with your glowing skin and beautiful eyes, pulling him in the moment he saw your case file. He used to see you when he was living, a friend of a friend. He never got to talk to you cause you were always around stupid Deku. Y'all might have been together, but he didn't care. He had to meet you, talk to you, touch you, taste you. He would visit in your dreams, talking to you and making you laugh, holding you though the bad parts he couldnt change.
When you finally worked up the gal to ask who he was, he took a deep breath and told you. He was your guardian, assigned to you until you die, there to protect you and keep bad things away. You simply laughed and told him,
"Fine, don't tell me."
He only growled down at you, huffing before disappearing into the cloudy depths of your consciousness.
You didn't see him for weeks, trying to conjure him back in your head, but to no avail. Finally, finally he showed up, but it was not in your dreams. No, he showed up at the foot of your bed, glowing a dewy gold with his wings spread out behind him, tunic wrapping lightly around his slim hips.
You gaped at him, your brain trying to process what it was seeing. He smirked down at you, stalking over to where your soft body lay, trailing thick, calloused fingers over the expanse of your exposed thighs. He lifts up the hem of your oversized tshirt slightly, quirking an eyebrow in question.
You bite your lip and spread your thighs as an invitation, making him groan and slide into the sheets with you.
He gently positions you so you're straddling his face, facing his swelling cock as it makes his tunic rise.
He kisses you through the fabric of your panties, running his tongue up and down the fabric while groaning about how wet you got for him, how much of a slut you were for lusting after an angel.
He finally rips your panties off of you after teasing for what felt like hours, immediately sucking your fat clit in his mouth, moaning at the taste of you. He grips your hips to grind you roughly against him, sucking at you and sliding thick fingers into you, making you mewl and shake above him.
As you push your hips against his pretty face, you notice how big the bulge is in front of you, looking almost painful. You moan softly at the feelings coursing through you and the sight of him so aroused from just eating you out. You bring shaky hands up to grope at his clothed cock, causing him to let out a startled sound into your pussy.
"Fuck, Princess- whaddya doin-"
You cut him off by grinding yourself further onto his mouth, unwrapping the cloth around his waist and watching his cock slap up. You salivated at the sight of it, thick with veins running along it, the head leaking copious amounts of prespend. You shiver when you feel Bakugou's tounge slide into your slit, his teeth catching on your sex and making you whimper above him.
You lean down and run your tongue along the pulsing veins littering his fat cock, ripping a raspy moan from the blonde's lips. His thighs clench in front of you with the sudden urge to fuck up into your mouth, but he resists it in favor of adding two more fingers into you, now stretching you with three and making you groan. He laps at your clit, determined to make you cum before him.
You suck at his tip, dipping into it before moving down further, rolling your tongue along the underside of his shaft as you fondle his balls, making his hips jump when you circle his taint with your fingers. He whimpers into your pussy, tongue stilling inside you as he revels in the pleasure. He's glad you can't see him, cause his eyes are rolled all the way up, drool and your slick running down his cheeks. You slide your hands up and down his thighs fondling his balls and sucking him down your throat, moaning around him when his movements pick up. Just when you think you'll make him cum, he pushes you off of his face.
You blink to yourself in confusion, before he grabs you from behind and positions you over his leaking cock, his breath fanning over your neck before he sinks his cock inside of you, simultaneously sinking his teeth into your neck to muffle his whines.
You arch your back in pleasure, locking eyes with him in the mirror at the foot of your bed that you know wasn't there before. He smirks against your neck, snapping his hips up into you as he grabs at the fat of your tits, playing with your nipple with one hand while the other brushes over your clit.
"Why don't you ask your guardian to help you cum, hm?"
You gasp out, barely able to get out a word as he bounces you on his lap, his fat tip hitting your spot with every thrust.
"Ka-Katsukiii-"
"Nu-uh, that's not my name, slut. You only get to call me Sir, yeah?"
You choke out a feeble,
"Yes sir-!"
Before going back to being a garbled mess. You reach back for stability, only to brush along soft feathers, realizing that Bakugou hadn't put his wings away. In your hazy state of mind, you slowly started to run your fingers up and down the spine of his wings, moaning breathing in his ear as your head tilts back, causing a shudder to run down Bakugou's body, all the way to the head if his dick which pulsed violently inside of you.
He flicked at your clit, growling into your neck to cum, which you did without hesitation, creaming his cock. He gritted his teeth at how tight you clenched around him, and with one look at the white ring you left around the base of his swelling cock, he came inside you, spurting endless amounts of spend. He panted hotly against you, gs tly pulling you off to go clean up, chuckling when he saw you passed out.
♡♡
The hall of the Higher Ups was always huge, but with the guilt and shame resting on his shoulders, the room seemed even bigger to Bakugou. He avoided eye contact with the Advisor, staring dead into Shitty Deku's eyes.
"Why the fuck am I here, nerd? Shouldn't I have already transferred Down There?"
Deku winces at Bakugou's language, straightening up.
"I managed to convince the Council to give you a second chance, Kaachan. This was the first time you were assigned to someone young and appealing, and it's not like there are a lot of options up here-"
"Would you shut the fuck up already? I did what I did, I don't need you picking up after me and trying to be my saviour."
Bakugou sneers, backing Deku up. He rolls his eyes when the Advisor steps forward to intervene, only for Deku to hold a hand up.
"I don't know why you're always right there. You're like some creepy stalker or sumthin'. You have everything you could fuckin' want! Why are you bothering me, especially when I'm to get your position-"
"Because I fucking care, Kaachan!"
Bakugou flinches back at the tone of Deku's voice, surprised at the curse that came out of his mouth.
"Why do you think you're even here still? I'm the one who convinces the Council to let you stay here, even with your foul mouth and crude ways. I'm the one who got you up here in the first place. They gave me a choice. Condemn you to Hell for what you did to me, or let you be here and make peace, but you make it so hard. I thought you would've changed. But I guess you just hate me that much, huh Bakugou. Hate me so much you would fuck her, after all this time."
The blonde's eyes widen, his face burning hot in anger.
"Why would you bring that shit up, it was in high school-"
"I DIED BECAUSE OF YOU."
The hall is silent, Deku's voice echoing around the walls, the words "because of you" ricocheting in Bakugou's head.
"You didn't do shit cause of me, Midoriya. You decided to do it, right?"
Deku scoffs, tears filling his eyes as he turns towards the Advisor.
"Still as blunt as ever, Bakugou. Take him away."
Bakugou turns away, spitting out an "I can do it myself" before waking out the hall, keeping his head high even as scornful Higher Ups regard him, strutting to the transporter. He gets in and pushes the button, vermillion eyes locked on piercing green ones all the way down.
♡♡
When you wake up in the morning, the bed is empty, but there's a note on your dresser from Bakugou, telling you how he's going on a little trip for a bit, but he won't forget you.
He'll never forget you.
♡♡
@boooooooooom
♡♡
Masterlist
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omiscurls · 3 years
Text
haikyuu!! characters as bed sharing AU’s
taken of pinterest!
characters in question: kiyoomi sakusa, miya atsumu, kenma kozume, suna rintaro, tobio kageyama, kuroo tetsuro, akaashi keiji
kiyoomi sakusa - the “you have too much nightmares, let me try this method on you”
When you look at Sakusa, you wouldn’t guess any of his weaknesses... well except for one maybe
He always speaks so confidently, if he doesn’t feel secure, he just doesn’t speak
So even if you’ve been their manager for... several years, you still know as much about this man’s weaker sides as if you met him yesterday, or even less. 
The surprise on your face when you binge watched a series at night, and you suddenly felt the scream definitely coming from outside your headphones was indescribable 
Was the room next to yours... Sakusa’s?
you thought nothing of it, but night after night, you heard a lot more, you heard crying, ventilating, calling out random names, and finally you decided that not only is this interrupting your sleep, it’s not healthy for the wing spiker either
come on, the next day is game day, he has to be on his best abilities 
nobody wants to deal with grumpy kiyoomi, nobody has the guts
so you remember a method your friend has told you about that their s/o uses on them 
it took a lot of courage, but there you are, about to knock on his door... 
Sakusa flinched hearing knocks on his door. That definitely wasn’t just a comeback from a dream. Someone’s knocking on his door. Was he being too loud? Did he wake someone up? He prays that it’s just someone wanting something, even if it’s around 2AM, and who on earth would want someone at 2AM. 
Normally he would’ve been pissed off, but now he wished for this scenario to come true. 
He put on a hoodie before opening the door, since it was cold outside the sheets, besides, who wants to see him in his underwear, right? Especially if it’s marvel themed-
The look on his face when he sees his crush on the other side of the door is priceless. He can practically feel his face going all red. 
“Can I help you?” he clears his throat and says lazily, pretending to be annoyed by the fact you allegedly woke him up, even though the tears still flow down his cheeks. 
“No, but I can help you” you say, just as embarrassed as he is, and it doesn’t help when he raises his eyebrows like that, so you quickly add “That is, if you like, please feel comfortable to tell me to piss off if I’m being too much, but I have a friend with a problem simmilar to yours and I just...”
“Okay, I’m listening” he interrupts, causing you to look up at him. 
When you explain the idea to him, he’s more than pessimistic, he’s laughing in your face, mumbling something about how he thanks you for your concern, but... 
You took the opportunity that you’re both sitting on his bed, and just lay on your back. 
“Come on, just try” 
“No!” he answers almost immediately, but, as he’s also a man of logic... 
He really has to be on his best tomorrow, and you’re his only hope at the moment. He reluctantly lays down next to you, and your hand guides his face near your neck. 
“Fine, but only so you stop with this idea already. It’s not gonna work.”
You’re both extremely out of your comfort zones, but you’re slowly adjusting. You feel him nuzzle closer, and your hair just instinctly lands in his hair, curling one little curl on your finger. 
His showergel smells amazing, by the way. It puts you to sleep instantly, but you know you can’t be the one to pass out first. After a while of silence, you ask him if his trial run has expired already, but there’s no response. His breath evens out, and you’re too afraid to stir away far enough to check if his eyes are closed. 
“Kiyoomi? Are you asleep?” you ask, but again, there’s no response. 
Oh well. 
The next morning he’s so embarrassed that the idiotic idea worked, he can’t even look you in the eyes at breakfast. 
atsumu miya as “you’ve been so dejected lately i feel too bad to leave you alone at night” 
He didn’t ask for this at all, but yet you ended up being his roommate. 
A roommate who was recently going through an extemely tough time. 
Seriously, even he feels bad seeing you all in tears all the time, mindless look and not paying attention to anything
Even though you weren’t each other’s favorite people in the world before, you ended up getting closer over the fact that he was the only one to see you at the worst moments
You hated that, but what can you do, there’s no safer place to cry in than your dorm
And even though he kinda made fun of it at first, the longer it kept going, the more concerned he’d get
It got to a point where he literally wouldn’t leave you alone 
While still pretending not to like you, of course
Have you eaten? Have you drank something? Have you even left your bed today? How long did you sleep last night? Not at all? You idiot, start taking care of yourself. 
You dumbass, you dummy, you moron, you absolute fricking mess
Some of your friends consider him your boyfriend, judging from the messages you get from him
“Dummy, there’s a granola bar in your bag, better eat it” “Hey idiot, I had to run to practice early today. Are you feeling less shitty than yesterday?” 
He noticed that, as it is logical, your mood proggressively gets worse as you get tired 
And that you actually learned how to cry without sobbing so you don’t wake him up, how thoughtful of you
Well your mistake, now you have an 80kg volleyball player over you. 
“Atsu, what’re you doing?” you ask in a tired voice, covering your face with a pillow. 
“You’re crying.” he states bluntly, staring at you like a four-year-old. 
“Observant, are we?”
“Hey. Dumbass. You didn’t cry for so long already, what happened?” he whispers, sitting by your side, and you can’t mumble words, feeling so ashamed you want to disappear. You fall on your back and pretend not to notice the question. 
He sighs audiably. 
“Alright then, just know you brought this on yourself” he states, and before you can ask why, he’s already laying beside you. 
“W-what’re you doing?” you scream-whisper, right into his blonde hair, and he shivers at the feeling. 
“I’m comforting you, isn’t it obvious, you moron?” he hisses. “Although, I can see my mistake now” he states, and you think he’s gonna go back to his own bed, but no, he grabs you by the waist and rolls over, so now you lay on top of him, flustered as ever, thankful for the light being off, at least he doesn’t see your tomato-like face. 
“But- Atsumu, please go to your own bed” you plea, but he shakes his head, eyes already closed. 
“Nu-uh” he answers “Yours is more comfy, anyway” he jokes, making you chuckle through the tears. 
He puts his hand on the back of your head and puts it on his chest. 
“Goodnight, dipshit” he whispers, and you manage to fall alseep listening to the steady beat of his heart. 
No tears, he’d feel them anyway. 
kenma kozume as “the heater broke and i’m cold as hell, can you come here?”
this should not have happened
the guy looks miserable
but, you see, he’s doesn’t have the biggest amount of muscles in his body, his not as ripped as his highschool friends
body fat? also no, he’s a skinny, fairly tall boy who gets cold really easily
for real, he’s wearing a hoodie at all times, and in winter, he looks like a shell of himself
so you’re over at Kuroo’s house on a New Year’s party
the party ended like an hour ago, everyone is asleep
(Lev’s gonna be so dead when Yaku wakes up and finds the tall guy’s head on his stomach) 
you’re almost sound asleep in Kuroo’s guest bedroom, so gracefully given to you by the host
the only other person in the room is Kenma, who originally slept in Kuroo’s room together with his best friend, but got annoyed by the weird questions him and Bokuto kept asking
so he asked you if he can sleep on the couch in the room 
why wouldn’t you say yes? 
earlier that night Kuroo burnt pizza in the oven, so you all opened almost every window in the house to get the smell to leave
and kinda forgot to close the ones in the bedrooms
but no worries, you have a radiator
...right? 
why is the radiator set on the highest temperature and still stone cold? 
well, doesn’t matter, you can just wrap yourself in the heavy sheets
Kenma, on the other hand, only has a small blanket
And since it’s a party, he’s wearing a shirt, not a hoodie 
The boy’s freezing 
“Hey, are you asleep?” you hear a very quiet whisper coming from the couch. 
“Thought you’re here cause you couldn’t stand the chit-chat, Kenma?” you ask with a grin on your face. 
“Yeah, right. Sorry.” he mumbles and you hear him shift in his spot, visibly annoyed by the circummstances. There’s a moment of silence, in which he can feel his face almost burn down from embarrassment. 
Oh, my god, you sound like you’re annoyed with him here. Areyou? Come on, tell him you aren’t. He should just let you sleep. 
But does he really want to spend the rest of his night feeling his feet hurt from cold? Fuck, Kuroo, you and your stupid pizza. 
He gets up, tightly wrapped in his blanket, and checks the radiator. 
“It’s definitely broke” he sighs, touching the cold surface, and turns back to the couch, falling on it face down, letting out a groan. 
You giggle at his action, and he opens his eyes immediately, hearing the sound of your voice. 
“Kenma... I offered you the bed once already, it’s warmer” you start, but he raises his hand and shakes it in a disagreeing gesture. 
“No no, please, don’t worry” he mumbles against the couch, trying to ignore the, ironically, burning sensation in his legs. Is this a bedroom or is this Antarctica?
“Oh, come on” you say, opening the sheets. “We don’t want you to freeze, do we now?” 
Oh my god, what did you do. There’s so much thoughts racing through his mind right now. Should he do it? It sounds so nice... But should he really?
Fuck it, he thinks, you’re offering, he can’t turn down an offer from you. 
He lazily walks over to the bad and lays down next to you, at a reasonable distance, only to hear you laugh again. He spares you an annoyed glance, and you shake your head slightly, rolling over next to him, covering him with the sheets you have wrapped around yourself so tightly, and using his chest as a pillow. 
Hold on, that’s not what he signed up for. Why are you... How...? 
He hesitantly and gently puts his arm around you, relaxing his body, the scent of your shampoo making him slightly dizzy. 
Please don’t notice how fast his heart is racing. This is fine. It doesn’t mean anything, he can promise. 
rintaro suna as “hey dude, i hear cuddling helps you sleep, wanna try?”
the most chill person out there 
literally you would never have guessed how nervous he was before asking you 
it’s  just another week, another game and another hotel you are all staying in 
and fate is definitely on his side today, since his bedroom is literally next door to yours
he got to your door and left without doing anything about three times before he eventually decided to be a man and knock
has a master plan in his mind
he’s gonna show you a website with an article about how cuddling (allegedly) makes you sleep better 
and he’s just gonna be so causal about it 
he’s just gonna knock, put on an emotionless smirk and ask you, just like he always does
but here’s the think, he’s not so chill on the outside
“how should I call them? their name? a pet name? bro? no, too much” 
but, he does end up knocking 
“Hey, Y/N, what’s up?” you turn your head to the door to see a figure of Suna in only his underwear and an oversize t-shirt with the logo of some metal band. 
“Shouldn’t you be asleep?” you ask, voice hoarse as you were already drifting off. 
“I read this super cool thing, wanna see?” he seems not to mind your comment, as he walks over to your bed and practically throws himself beside you, not minding you laying there, shoving his phone in your hands. 
“... help you fall asleep in just three minutes...” you’re mumbling under your breath as you read the headline. “Rin, this sounds so fake” you laugh, falling back on your pillows, as he sighs. 
“I wanna try, and it’s either you or Kita, and he gives me serial killer vibes” he mutters, earning yet another serie of laughter from you. 
But seeing the serious hint in his eyes, you lift your hands in surrendering gesture. 
“Go on with it, Mr Romantic” you state, watching in amusement as he groans at the comment and burries his face in your pillow. 
You’re sure this is him considering this mission a failed one and giving up, but then he looks up 
“Well, are you coming?” he asks completely serious, and you have nothing left to do than hug him and settle your face in the crook of his neck, not minding as his breathing lifts your hair from time to time and tingles your skin. 
Can someone feel your blush through their skin? You surely hope not. 
tobio kageyama as the almighty “the hotel room has only one king size bed and we need to share”
He never would’ve thought his teammates would betray him like this
What the hell do they mean there’s only two people rooms available and they’re all in pairs already
Honestly, primary school all over again
ugh
His perfectly happy to be sleeping alone, when he finds out you’re his roommate
this is fine tobio, don’t freak out
well he’s composed about it
a little bit of a “tch” and “well I guess there’s nothing we can do about it”
internally he’s a little girl now, but you never would’ve guessed judging by the annoyed grimace on his face
because how does it matter if you’re sleeping in the same room, it’s not like he was planning to run around naked, right?
it all changes once you press the card to open the room, and when he so gentleman-like lets you enter first, you find out there’s only one, big, king sized bed for couples exclusively
the only thing missing are rose petals and candles prepared for newlyweds
you try so so hard not to burst out laughing
when he enters, he becomes as white as the walls around
he can’t process this, what the fu-
bet he’s spending hours at the reception desk explaining it’s a huge mistake
unfortunately, these were the only rooms left, sorry not sorry, you’re sleeping together
and that brings you to the situation you’re in currently
He’s almost over the edge of making a wall of pillows between you two. You can’t help but feel a tiny bit offended by it, but you know he’s probably just super hyper embarrassed.
“Yama, who don’t you trust, me, or yourself?” you ask with a proud grin painting your lips as you sit on your side, sheets tucked around your waist, back rested on the wall behind you.
He gives you an annoyed glance, before answering:
“It’s not that”
Once he says that, he proceeds to somehow nestle himself in, but he looks like one of those dolls that come with a bedroom furnishing, almost lifeless, resting on his back with hands straight down his body, eyes fixed on the ceiling.
“Relax, will you?” you giggle “You have a game tomorrow, grumpy face”
He rolls his eyes.
You shake your head and turn off the light, mumbling a quiet goodnight, as you turn to your side and place a hand under your head, back facing Kageyama.
Well, this is gonna be a long night, or so you think, up until he falls asleep.
You can physically feel him move around, and you think that’s what’s keeping you awake.
It takes a while for you to realize the star valley ball player is getting unconsciously closer, up until you can feel his breath on your neck.
Ironically enough, it’s you who’s all stiff and nervous now, when suddenly you feel his arm go around your waist.
“Oh you’ve gotta be kidding me” you mutter, but he shifts dangerously when you speak, so you have to give up side commentary.
You decided to tease him just a bit. He’s the one who’s gonna be flustered when he wakes up, you’re on a winning side by being awake.
You smile to yourself before shifting your body closer to his. He sighs contently, almost making you laugh.
Oh how you want him to wake up and see already.
tetsuro kuroo as “we fell asleep on the couch together and now my hand is in your hair and you’re breathing directly on my neck”
you’re over studying, or just helping him with something
the point is, you were working all day
at some point he suggests getting pizza
hell yeah, pizza
you order a little bit too much of it, but since you both are suckers for pizza, nobody can back up first
and as you know, people tend to get sleepy after they eat too much
he has a wide couch, so you can both lay beside each other without having to lay ON each other
and as you tend to get a little bit sleepy, you both shift to lay down instead of sitting, still focused on the work, though 
you don’t know why, you don’t know how but it just happens that you fall asleep
you obviously don’t see what happens after that, but Kuroo notices you asleep when he asks you multiple questions and you repeatedly don’t answer, he got it like around question number 4
“Lazy much, huh, sleeping beauty?” he mutters to himself, but smiles unconsciously as he glances at your stoic face 
and as if that subconsciously impacted his brain, soon enough he can’t find it in himself to keep his eyes open as well. 
Kuroo wakes up to an annoying pain in his neck, causing him to hiss and automatically  want to place his hand on the place that ached. Whoops, did he fall asleep on the couch again? Oh well, didn’t he have work to do? 
He lifts his hand as he wanted to, but suddenly he feels something shift beneath it, and when he looks down to see you, with your head rested on his chest, breathing slowly, a peaceful smile on your face. 
Your legs are tangled with his in some unexplicable manner, and as the man of logic he so obviously is, he can’t even begin to understand how that happened. 
Especially why his hand feels so in place, holding you by the waist, closer to himself, and the other one lost somewhere in your hair. 
You shift your head slightly up, and sigh contently, now breathing directly on the exposed part of his neck. He somehow manages to not shiver at the tingling sensation, getting more and more flustered by the second. 
His heart rate inscreases drastically, making him realize he’s stressed like he���d never been before, as he tries to make up his mind about whether to wake you up, gently push you off and let you rest, or maybe stay in place. 
He feels attracted to the last one, but knows it’d only be unfair to you. 
But you could wake up if he moved you, and you had a long day, after all... 
Maybe he’s gonna let you stay there. Not for long, only five... more... minutes...
keiji akashi as “you’re staying over at my place, you take the bed, i’ll sleep on the floor. no, really, i’m comfortable on the floor. GEEZ FINE we’ll both take the bed, ya happy now?
You wanna know what got you in this situation huh
well, you were over for dinner, but it started raining really heavily 
like, really really heavily
and akaashi being the sweetheart that he is, can’t let you go home like that
it’s a long way to the train station, you’re gonna get sick, and what if there’s a traffic accident? he can’t have that
(he just wants to spend more time with you but shh about that) 
doesn’t matter how hard you try to convince him you’re gonna be fine. you’re staying and that’s final 
it’s cute, he’s cute when he’s worried 
well that brings you to where you are currently, already after your shower, dressed in one of akaashi’s t-shirts, oh this feels so couple-ish 
you wait for him to finish with his night time routine in his room, admiring all the posters and childhood pictures he has
he has the first ever selfie bokuto took with him framed 
when he comes back, that’s when the problems start
“Alright, well, let’s get some sleep, you can take my bed, and I’ll take the floor
And that’s what brings us to the guilt rising in your stomach as you settle in the guy’s sheets, inhaling the heavy scent of his shampoo from the pillow under your head. It’s his house, his bed, and yet he’s sleeping on the floor like some random guest. You’re the random guest here, you can’t help but feel like you’re crashing at his place against his will, and you’re making him uncomfortable.
“ ‘Kaashi?” you whisper, making his eyes open wide to see the dark ceiling of his room. There’s silence for a moment, and then he shifts to turn on the light once more.
“Yeah?” he sighs, bringing one hand up to his face to rub his eyes, unable to open them properly because of the sudden flush of light.
“Are you sure you don’t want to sleep on the bed?” you ask shyly, making him chuckle as he shakes his head.
“Yes, yes I’m sure. Goodnight” he states gently, turning on the light once again. This is gonna be a long night, he thinks.
You cannot catch your sleep. Damn it, damn your altruism and all that shit.
“Akaashi no, I can’t-“ you’re cut of by the sound of him laughing.
“Oh my god. Fine. If I move to the bed, will you sleep already?” he whines quietly, and seeing you nod in the dark, he gets up and picks up his pillow.
You get off the bed, wanting to swap places with him, but are held back by his hand.
“No, if you sleep on the floor, i won’t be able to close my eyes even for a second” he forbids gently, moving you back to where you were previously laying.
Oh boy, you both think, this is awkward, but the warmth of his body pressed next to yours makes it hard to be mad at him for stopping you from leaving.
This is gonna be a long night indeed.
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koocycle · 3 years
Text
play thing | drabble series (iii)
pairing. basketball player!jungkook x female reader
summary. jungkook is aware of the fact that you’re not his to love, yet he’s determined to show you what you’re missing out on.
wc. 2435
warnings. mild explicit language, suggestive themes.
taglist. if you’d like to be added, please send me an ask!
previous / next
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“Do you think he would notice if we’d fuck here?”
The question is ridiculous yet amusing to the ear, but you’re still having a hard time finding it in yourself to laugh at the remarkable query. And that’s most likely because Jungkook’s voice falls heavy in the shell of your ear even as you attempt to ignore him the best you can. Yet the act seems harder than usual when his pretty fingertips start gazing over your clothed waist, softly nipping at the flimsy material of your tight shirt in between his pleasing, tattooed fingers.
“He would.” So I wouldn’t try anything if I were you, is what you mean to add, yet the words don’t manage to slip any further than your charming lips that seem sealed shut as soon as you look at him in the eyes.
‘‘Do you think he would care?’’
This one seems to shut you up soon enough – you’re not entirely sure if the answer to that will suit your fight against the man behind you, and the jerk knows that. Because you don’t even have to look at him to see the grin that’s growing on his pretty features.
It’s taking you one more look upon the living room of which is connected to the rather chilly kitchen you’re finding yourself in before you can come up with a decent answer. The silence hurts your ears, but you have no other choice than to stay quiet by his side. Both you and Jungkook know the situation you’re finding yourself in, lying won’t do you any justice.
Your boyfriend’s dyed, blonde locks are astounding and vibrant alongside his fellow teammates on the sofa. They’re yelling at something that happens in the game playing in front of their noses, multiple chaotic arms pointing at the big screen and already loud voices which are only increasing in volume. And you can only guess there’s no good coming out of it.
“Of course he’d care.” You carry on your act, and you’re not entirely sure if it is you or Jungkook you’re attempting to convince here, but it doesn’t seem to work either way, “He is my boyfriend, after all.”
All the lights in Minho’s apartment are turned off, the only ounce of lighting available being the one coming from the big screen in the living area. And that might as well be for the best, considering Jungkook’s sneering eyes that are boring holes in the side of your face right now. He doesn’t seem satisfied with your answer, certainly not when your lips grow into a content, irritatingly smug grin. You probably think you’re the shit now.
“Are you sure about that?” He questions, the fingers that were previously playing with the fabric of your shirt tightening in the heat of his palm as for right now. He can’t keep his hands to himself today, but it seems like you don’t really mind the way today’s play is going.
“So if I do this,” both his hands position themselves down your waist, finding their place on your hips before he slams his chest against your back, “he would come running to punch me in the face right now?”
When his head dips into the crook of your neck, a gasp is leaving your lips and it’s only feeding onto his ego, especially when he can feel you freeze under his fingertips. His lips are only inches removed from the skin on the side of your throat, yet his hot breath spreading down its place is taking an enormous toll on you.
His fingers tighten around both of your hipbones, head dipping even further down your neck to place a wet peck on the spot, a gasp leaving you once a pair of dampened lips make contact with you skin.
‘‘He’d kick me out of his shitty dorm?’’ He stupidly laughs in the crook of your neck, the vibrations against you being anything but sly, but you doubt he even worries about something silly like that. ‘‘Don’t fool yourself, ___. He isn’t even looking.’’
His index fingers that were wrapped around your hips just earlier make a move to tilt your chin up, yet the action doesn’t seem to revolve around him – no, he’s making you look up at Minho. And even though the feeling of his fingertips isn’t overbearing underneath your chin, merely being there for moral support, you don’t make a move to pull your gaze away from your boyfriend.
‘‘Do you think he would care?’’
You don’t need Jungkook to constantly remind you that Minho doesn’t give more than 2 fucks about you, because you’re able to do that yourself just perfectly fine. But what gives him the right to talk about your relationship like that? As if his opinion is relevant to you even the slightest way – he’s ridiculous.
‘‘Cut it out, Jungkook.’’ You snarl in between your gritted teeth, the sweet tone from before completely disappearing as you feel yourself heating up now.
‘‘Or what? Are you going to tell him?’’ His lips are making movements that send shivers down your spine, and you have to refrain your head from falling down to rest on his shoulder, ‘‘I think you’re enjoying this far too much to be putting this to a stop, no?’’
‘‘You’re nothing special.’’ You say, but your body language proves him otherwise. The heavy weight of your head is betraying you, the way you fall limp in his embrace proving his every word to be correct.
He pays no attention to your previous statement, not feeling the need to prove you wrong when both of you already know the deal, ‘‘Tell me why you’re here today.’’ He says instead, voice lower than before.
‘‘Did you invite yourself over because you wanted to spend some time with your boyfriend,’’ flat hands slide down over your clothed belly, large palms reaching lower to the place you desperately need him, ‘‘or because you knew I’d be here?”
You stop him before he can get too far, your own hands clutching own just as desperately. ‘‘Me being here has nothing to do with you.’’
The lie is obvious and perhaps a little lacking in itself, the eager tone in your voice merely being there to overpower him. The attempt was there, but the execution could have been worked on.
His fingers are playing with the belt loops of your jeans, solely hooking his thumbs through them as he pushes you more against him – which he doesn’t even have to put a lot of effort into, not when you sloppily fall against him with your hips wedged to his own, no fight notable in your body. He uses his tallest fingers to reach out from their place to hover over the closed zipper that keeps your panties hidden – and you can’t find it in yourself to break away from him.
‘‘Go to your boyfriend, then.’’ He says, his breath tickling underneath your ear. ‘‘I’m not holding you back.’’
You’re sure it’s the conceited tone in his voice that has something snapping inside of you – most likely the thick layer of confidence nagging at you to stay in your lane. And you have to remind yourself that you’re completely falling for him, melting in his embrace as if your boyfriend isn’t mere feet away from the two of you. As if this Jungkook guy has some kind of effect on you.
Pfft. As if.
You don’t say anything as you remove your body from his own, and neither does he. Yet both of his arms fall slack besides his posture when you look back at him, the tip of his tongue pocking the inside of his cheek. And you know it irks him, yet you’d have to walk over his dead body for him to say it out loud.
If he wanted you to go to your boyfriend, then you will. He can kiss your ass for all you care.
Stupid, hot basketball jock.
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With no seats left over of which are relatively close to your boyfriend, you find yourself sitting on the arm of the couch. Annoyed and pissed beyond your limits. He doesn’t reach out for you to make you feel included alongside his friends and neither do you wait (nor want) for him to do so.
You don’t know where Jungkook is, and you force yourself not to care about him for much longer. He didn’t follow you into the living room like as you assumed he would, and for all you know, he could have silently left already the dorm already.
The idea of that doesn’t sit right with you, though. The void in the pit of your stomach is only expanding at the thought of you sitting here with Minho and his friends, watching some stupid game you’re barely interested in. With you being here, bored and out of your mind, does nothing to spark your boyfriend’s interest – and it’s not like you expected much different when you walked through his door today. Your mind is already looping down a hole of excuses you’ll be throwing into his face as soon as you can get out of here.
‘‘Minho,’’ you eventually speak up, fingers nudging his shoulder. ‘‘I’m leaving now.’’
He only hums in response, a quick and effortless ‘‘mhm’’ leaving his closed lips. Eyes trained on the screen in front of him as he unappealingly munches on some popcorn, the greasy saltiness sticking to his fingertips.
He’s not asking you why you’re leaving, and you don’t think it’s happening any time soon. Except doesn’t matter this time, because again, you didn’t expect anything else to happen. His friends are focused on the game, so you’re no use to him at this moment. Not when he can’t show you off in front of the world.
As if on cue, Jungkook comes strolling into the living area as soon as you stand up from your seat on the armrest. A bright red, nearly perfect looking apple rests in the center of his palm as he’s chewing on the remaining pieces in his mouth, flawless and sharp eyebrows just slightly furrowed.
He barely looks at you as he walks by, feet moving to his previous spot on Minho’s cornered sofa, yet he raises an unabashed eyebrow once he catches a glimpse of you. As if asking you where you’re heading to, but at the same time telling you he could care less if you were actually to leave.
That’s a lie though. You know that much.
Seeing the way he falls down on the couch with a huff, cockily munching on the sweet pieces of apple on his tongue; you can see right through him. He doesn’t want you gone.
The guy enjoyed shoving all the blame on you tonight, telling you how much you needed him, yet you know he is in an all too eager frame of mind for your presence just as much as you are for his. And it’ll be a hard job to get him to say it out loud, but you might as well think Jungkook is a challenge you’d gratefully accept tonight.
So in honor of him, you’ll stay just a little longer.
‘‘What are you doing?’’ Minho’s voice rummages through the room when you suddenly decide to slip into his lap, knees on both of his sides as your ass pokes out on his thighs. It doesn’t grab the boys’ attention just yet, only a few glances here and there before they quickly avert back to the game, scooping more loads of popcorn and coke down their throats.
But you can feel the eyes of a certain someone on you.
‘‘I want to cuddle with you.’’ You shrug, resting your head on the base of his shoulder, angled perfectly in a way where you can take Jungkook’s expression in. The dude doesn’t look happy. ‘‘I’ve missed you.’’
Jungkook doesn’t even pretend as if he’s interested in the game, not towards you nor his teammates. They’re not paying much attention to him, anyways. His harsh stare is only locking with your own as he slumps down his seat on the sofa, legs spread apart before you attempt on not looking down once he does so.
‘‘Did you miss me too?’’ You don’t want a genuine answer from him. Heck, you hardly hear him once he mutters an uninterested ‘of course I did’, and instead your fingers lock with his, guiding them down your ass.
And you’re glad his larger hands rest there without question, in full view of the guy you currently have wrapped around your finger. You can see his tongue poking in the inside of his cheek again, which is more than a good sign. He repositions himself quite a few times in his place, hoping the daggers he’s shooting in your direction are put into good use and you’ll back the fuck off soon enough.
There’s no luck on his side when your fingers come up to rest on your boyfriend’s jaw, solely being there for show when your lips make contact with the skin underneath his jawline.
‘‘Do you think they would notice if we’d fuck here?’’ Your voice is sharp and confident in the crook of his neck, the volume of your voice loud enough to catch some ears in the room.
Minho’s head shoots down to look at you as soon as the words escape your lips, totally caught off guard as well as the other boys who seem shocked as well – yet you couldn’t care less about them. Jungkook’s eyes are boring into yours and that’s all that matters at this right moment.
He’s stopped munching on the apple pieces in his mouth, swallowing them down his throat with some effort, his hand is tightening around the pretty colored fruit as he can already feel his body heating up at the sudden reference.
‘‘I don’t think they would care.’’ You continue to blabber on, the guy on the other side of the couch feeling a little tense in the current situation he’s finding himself in.
‘‘Babe..’’ Minho’s uncertain voice booms through his chest as he continues to mumble something about the game, but your focus isn’t on him. Instead you have found your center of attention elsewhere.  
Else, where his hands drop down in between his spread legs, cupping the inner sides of his thighs. His jaw clenched so tightly that you’re able to catch the sharp jawline from this distance as the two rows of teeth are clutched against one another – unable to open up.
You’re leading this game. And you’re loving it.
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taglist — @jinsalpaca @moonchild1 @annenhypen @fan-ati--c
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zafirosreverie · 3 years
Note
if you’re still taking requests could i request #8 or #9 with carla? 🥰
#9 is here ^ - ^ so i did #8 for you! I also combined it with this:
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Hope you like it!
Grumpy prompt (closed)
Drinking night, crazy night (Carla x Fem!Reader)
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a/n: this is looooooong. Sorry for that 😅
Warnings: Smut, alcohol mentions, Carla's dirty mouth. Dom!Carla...i think.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 
You sighed and settled back in your seat, trying to be subtle enough not to attract Gwendolyn's attention and avoid her scolding. God, you hated these things, you hated being here. But what else could you do? You knew that if you had gone to Amy Mitchell's house, Gwendolyn would find out and she could do something terrible to your daughter. You would not allow the witch to get near your precious girl.
So here you were, in the middle of a huge house, surrounded by other moms who definitely didn't want to be here either, praying that the blonde woman in front of you would shut up soon.
"Y/N, Look at this" Cassandra, a mother whose son was in the same group as your daughter, whispered next to you.
You glanced at Gwendolyn quickly before looking at Cassandra's cell phone screen. It was a message from Janice.
Come to Amy's. We have shitty wine.
Followed by a selfie where the woman appeared, surrounded by other 3. They seemed happy and drunk. Lucky them.
"Let’s go" Cassandra whispered to you
"Are you crazy? If Gwendolyn finds out-"
"She won't" she interrupted you "besides, she can't do anything against everyone"
You frowned in confusion and looked around you. You noticed several moms silently slipping away. You smiled to yourself and turned back to Cassandra.
"We better go now that we can" she winked at you
There was no way you would directly face the blonde. Not if you could help it. You took your bag and smiled.
"Right behind you" you said.
You two held back your laughter as you sneaked out of the place. Whatever was going on at Amy Mitchell's house, it had to be so much better than this.
__________________
You were surprised when you arrived at the place. There were too many people here!! How many moms had sneaked out of Gwendolyn's house before you?! Too many in your opinion. How the hell had the blonde not noticed? You didn’t know or care.
Anyway, you were too busy dancing and screaming with the rest of the moms to care about those things. Tomorrow maybe you would, but right now, to hell with everything.
You heard someone yell loudly behind you and saw a row of moms taking a shot as a wild-haired woman yelled at them one by one.
"Drink!"
It looked fun.
___________________
Your head was starting to spin, but you were still sane enough to know what was going on around you. You watched from a few meters as the wild-haired woman laughed with two other women, kissing one of them and then making them kiss each other.
Pretty wild in your opinion. You liked it.
The more you looked at the woman, the more you tried to remember her. You were sure you ran into her a couple of times in the school parking lot, but her name escaped you.
Carolina? Carmen? Carola?
Something like that.
You turned around when you felt a hand on your forearm and Cassandra dragged you into the living room to dance. You missed the amused look that the blue-eyed woman gave you.
_____________________
You grunted when an elbow hit your rib. This is why you didn't go out to parties!...And because you had a daughter to take care of, but that wasn't the point.
You worked your way through the other moms and sighed when you walked back into the hall. You couldn't tell it was fresh air, but at least there weren't that many people here.
You leaned against the wall and closed your eyes for a moment, until you felt someone looking at you. You straightened up and looked next to you to find a pair of incredibly blue eyes looking at you.
The woman looked you up and down without shame, running her eyes all over your body. She took her time on your legs and you mentally thanked whatever god was listening for enlightening you and making you wear that dress.
She didn't say anything to you, but she had a funny smile on her lips. Shit, she was beautiful, you weren't going to deny it. And the image of her kissing that other mom hadn't left your head in the last hour.
"You like what you see?" you asked with a raised eyebrow.
Normally you would have blushed, but you blamed alcohol for your actions. Also, you weren't really expecting an answer.
Oh, but you got one.
The woman smiled at you and approached you with a confident stride, trapping you between her and the wall. You swallowed audibly. She smelled like she had a few too many drinks, but you guessed you weren't exactly better.
"That was my question" she told you "You haven't stopped looking at me since you arrived"
You frowned in confusion. What was she talking about? You didn't even know her name or who she was? Why would you -...but you did...
You looked at her when you walked into the house, when she had made all those moms drink a shot, when she had danced in the living room, when she had laughed with those women and kissed them. You had been looking at her all night. Shit.
"I'm sorry" you mumbled, smiling at yourself. Your confidence disappeared little by little "I didn't mean to be rude"
"You weren't" she told you. Her face was too close to yours and there was no indication that she planned to walk away "But I'm going to ask you for a favor."
"Of course" you nodded and smiled.
"That!" she growled she, making you jump a little "Please, stop smiling at me like that. I'm not sure what will happen if you keep doing that."
You blinked in surprise. Have you been smiling at her too? Hell, you really had to stop drinking. And yet you found her frown too cute.
"Why?" you said, smirking at her "does it make you nervous?"
You teased a bit and ran your tongue across your lower lip to moisten it. The woman in front of you grunted again and suddenly your back hit the wall hard. You didn't have time to react by the time her lips were pressed against yours. It was a hot, demanding and desperate kiss. You loved it.
You wrapped your arms around her neck and pulled her closer to you, returning the affection and pushing your tongue into her mouth. You could taste the alcohol in her tongue and something that was purely her.
You moaned against her mouth when you felt her hand climb up your thigh, lifting your dress little by little. Unfortunately, you weren't drunk enough to do it...not here.
"Wait" you said with a broken voice "we can't do this here"
"Come with me" she ordered, taking your hand and pulling you.
She led you upstairs, saying nothing. You were sure this wasn't her house, but that didn't seem to matter to her.
____________________
Well, at least she had the decency not to take you to her friend's bed.
You grunted when your back hit something. Maybe the wall, maybe a shelf, you weren't sure. It was hard to tell when everything in this damn closet was so dark.
"Are you sure your friend won't mind?" you asked, suddenly feeling nervous
"She won't find out" she assured you "Now strip" she said harshly.
"I don't even know your name" you said, trying to sound more confident than you were, but god, that tone had made your legs shake.
"Carla" she said simply "Now strip, I'm not going to repeat it again, Y/N"
Carla! That was the name that had escaped you all night. You were going to ask how she knew your name, but then you remembered that your kids went to the same school, damn it.
So you did what she told you and took your dress off quickly. Carla made a noise of satisfaction and you felt a hand caress your leg. The woman suddenly dug her nails into your inner thigh, making you gasp.
"Shut up" she growled "I haven't even started on you, save it for later"
You swallowed when you felt her press against you and one of her hands went down to holy ground. You bit your lip hard when one of her fingers caressed your already wet slit.
"My, my...You're so ready for me" she teased "No wonder you looked at me all night...you should have come to me earlier, honey, instead of showing your legs all over the house. trying to tempt me "
"I wasn't-" you tried to say, but she slammed her finger into you, making you scream.
"You were" she told you, nibbling on your lobe "but don't worry, you'll have what you want...you won't be able to walk after I'm done with you"
You had no doubt about that.
_______________
Your head hit the wall behind you, but you didn't care. You were too busy chasing the orgasm that she had been denied you times already.
"Please" you moaned "Please, please, please"
Carla smiled against your neck and moved her hand so that the three fingers that were inside you dug deeper. But the pleasure only lasted a few seconds because she yanked them out, just when you were almost there.
You grunted in pain and frustration. Your eyes stung with unshed tears. The older woman just laughed.
"Please" you sobbed "let me come, I need to come"
"Then you will have to work for it" she told you "On your knees, now"
You opened your eyes, but you could barely see her figure in front of you. Your legs were shaking, but you did as she commanded and knelt in front of her, groaning a little when your heel brushed against your center.
Carla quickly took off her pants and underwear, separating her legs right in front of you. She didn't have to tell you what to do, because the mere scent from her center drew you like a moth to the light.
The woman gasped a little as your hot tongue tentatively licked her slit and her fingers tangled in your hair to keep you in place. For a moment you were tempted to return her favor and play with her a bit, but she must have read your thoughts because she immediately reprimanded you.
"Don't even think about it princess" she growled "If you want to cum tonight you better start working"
She tugged on your hair tightly and that was enough to send an electric current to your already sore, wet core. So you got to work quickly.
Carla moaned as your tongue slipped in and out of her. Sometimes, you would suck hard on her tangle of nerves, making her jump a little. Little by little, you got braver and then your fingers entered the game.
You smiled against her when she moaned loudly as you shoved two fingers into her.
"Fuck" she growled "Don't you dare stop" she threatened
And you didn't. You continued your rhythm for a few more minutes, until you felt her tighten around your fingers and you knew she was close. You sucked hard on her center while twisting your fingers inside her and that was it.
Carla screamed loudly as waves of pleasure washed over her. Happily you helped her work it out. Her hand never left your head, though, and you found yourself cleaning up the mess that was coming out of her pussy.
"Good girl" she gasped when she calmed down a bit.
"Can I come now?" you asked.
"Stand up" she ordered and you happily obeyed
Carla pushed you against the wall again and kissed you fiercely, tasting herself in your mouth. Her fingers quickly found their way to your center again.
"I think you deserve a reward for being so good" she said and you trembled with excitement when she started pumping her fingers inside you.
You begged that this time she would let you finish.
_________________
You hurried out of the house, grateful to the one upstairs for the fact that most of the women were drunk and no one would see what a reeling mess you were.
You sighed when you got into your car and took a moment to recover. Your legs were weak and it hurt to sit. But you didn't regret it in the least. The best sex you've had in years since your divorce and it had been with a half-drunk mother from your daughter's school.
You laughed at it. That night, you couldn't help but dream with a pair of blue eyes.
__________________
"I made-out with so many women tonight" Carla said.
"I know" Amy laughed
Except no. The woman didn’t know what her friend had done in one of her closets and Carla intended to keep it that way. She couldn't help but think about the way you were walking when you left the house, anyone could see that you were in pain and that made her feel incredibly proud.
_________________
"Good morning" you greeted the woman after your daughter said goodbye and ran to school.
"Hey! What's up, pretty lady?" Carla smiled and walked towards you.
You blushed a little. You didn't expect her to get close to you, you just wanted to be nice. The truth is that you hadn’t been able to get her out of your mind all week, neither her nor her evil fingers.
"What are you going to do today?" she asked
"Oh...well...I don't have work today, so cleaning the house I guess" you said nervously.
"Do you mind if I go with you?" she said "Those two idiots over there plan to go to a sewing class and there is no way in the universe that you will see me there alive"
She pointed to Amy and Kiki talking a few meters behind. You laughed a bit and felt as if the air around you was no longer so thick.
"You can come" you said "But I don't know if you want to help me clean up"
"Oh no" she smiled at you "I was actually thinking of making more mess. I think we both deserve a second round, no alcohol and in bed" she winked at you.
You have never dragged someone into your car so quickly in your life.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
KH’s tags: @midnight-lestrange @emilyprentissslut @mochiadria
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nyxerebus · 3 years
Text
Boring Bar - Modern Levi x Female Reader
“Why are we here again?” The raven-haired man asked his friend. “You need to get out more Levi, So this is me dragging you out” Erwin smiled back. Levi just scoffed at him and looked around the bar.
Filthy.
“Hange and some others are coming soon”.
Huh!? “Shitty glasses and her shitty friends are also coming?” Erwin chuckled and nodded. Levi’s mood became even more shittier. If that was possible. They both drank in silenced for a while. Both ordering the same glass of whisky, Erwin on the rocks, Levi with a twist. The music was typical bar music, boring. Some people were dancing over at the dancefloor. Half the booths were filled, but Erwin and Levi were the only two sitting at the bar. “So, how have you been?” Erwin asked. He knew the answer. Not good. Levi and Petra had broken up a month ago, and he was still hung up on it. The breakup was really messy. Levi had caught her cheating on him with her co-worker. The biggest cliché in the world. “You know”, Erwin expected something more, but that was the only thing he got from Levi. “Okay, talking about it clearly isn’t something you want, but do you know what you need?” Levi raised his eyebrows at the blond. “A rebound!”
“A rebound?” Levi repeated. “You need a quick one night stand to get over her and move on, it will clear up your head. I promise” Levi looked at the man with a questionable look, but didn’t push further. They both fell into a silence, Levi still processing his words - was a rebound all he needed?
The glorious silence between the long-time friends was cut short when the bell at the door rang. “Leviiii! Erwinnnn!” Hange’s voice boomed over the bar. Her and Mike and Nanaba walked over to them and hugged Erwin, (Hange tried to give Levi a hug, but ended up with a elbow in the ribs).
A comfortable conversation fell between the four adults. Even though Levi gave them a hard time for dragging him out, he loved just sitting on the side-line and listening to the conversations. It was comforting. “Oh! I forgot to tell you guys” Hange exclaimed. “What’s up four eyes”.
“An old friend of mine is coming over and staying with me the next week! She’s going to meet us here, you guys fine with her hanging out with us?”.
“Of course! Where do you know her from?” Nanaba asked.
“We were dorm roommates back in my collage days!”. Hange smiled. “She is really nice, so you better treat her nice!” She threatened, even though she wasn’t that threatening.
The bell over the door rang again. “She’s here!” Hange waved over a (your height) woman. Hange hugged her and lifted the poor girl up from the ground, her legs kicking in the air. “So good to see you again!” Hange squealed and danced around, still holding the girl up. “Hange, let the poor girl down” Nanaba looked a bit concerned by her mad scientist friends action. Hange, reluctant, let the girl down and introduced her to her friends.
“This is (Y/N) (L/N)! My long-time friend form collage!” The group greeted her and Erwin moved over a bar stool she could sit on, moved it next to Levi. He sent the raven man a smug look. Damn eyebrow freak.
“So, (Y/N), what did you study?” They asked her many questions about her life. They learned that she studied History, (was still studying, but balancing school with working in a flower shop with her brother), she had two cats and her favourite book was Pride and Prejudice. Hange was clearly proud of her friend and showed her of to no extent. Levi noticed the girl, (Y/N) was looking very nervous and would often blush and wiggle in her seat when Hange went on about her life.
Cute.
What was he thinking? He couldn’t develop a thing for Hange’s friend, she was clearly very protective of her and would no doubt rip his dick of if he tried to get with (Y/N). “So, (Y/N), got a boyfriend” This time it was Nanaba that asked. This made Levi perk up, for some reason the idea that she had a boyfriend made his chest tighten.
What was wrong with him? He felt more jealous at the possibility that a woman he had just met had a boyfriend, than when he caught his girlfriend of 9 months in bed with another man.
“No, its just me and my cats at the moment” She rubbed the back of her neck. Levi realised a breath of relief, no one noticed. Well, no one except Erwin, who grinned into his drink.
The conversation drifted away from (Y/N) life to more mundane things. Work, family and what not. To be honest, Levi was only paying attention if (Y/N) was speaking. But sadly, the evening turned into the night. And everyone was suddenly reminded that they had work tomorrow.
“It was great meeting you all! Hope we can meet another time!” (Y/N) smiled at them. “Of course! Maybe for lunch?” Nanaba questioned. They agreed to meet for lunch one day, and split up. But luckily for Levi, he and Hange lived on the same street. So the three of them walked together to the building the two ladies lived at. Hange wouldn’t stop talking about her latest experiments.
Levi tried a few times to ask (Y/N) some questions, but they either came out as insults or as interrupted by Hange. Usually he was smooth with woman, never having to struggle cause most flocked towards him. But when he had to impress her, he became suddenly shy and nervous.
Snap out of it Ackerman! But before he could snap out of it, the stood outside Hanges apartment. “Looks like were parting ways here Clean freak! See ya tomorrow!” And with that they disappeared behind the entrenced to the building. Levi stood on the street for a couple of minutes, thinking over the night. He cursed at himself for not growing a pair and asking her out. He went to bed angry with himself.
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………
The next week past with everyday just the same like the last. Levi would meet you and Hange at 8 am and walk to your respective jobs. Everyone would meet for lunch (sometimes Erwin, Nanaba and Mike couldn’t make it, but Levi would always make it). And everyday, Levi became more and more enchanted with (Y/N).
“I don’t know what to do!” Levi groaned and threw his head back against the coach back. He and Erwin and Mike was chilling at Levi’s apartment. “Sounds like love to me” Erwin replied with his cheeky grinned. Oh, how Levi wanted to smack the grin of off his face.
“How? I have only known her for one week!”
“Love at first sight” Mike spoke up. “That doesn’t exist asshole” Levi grumbled out, chugging back his drink. “I don’t know man, Mike might be on to something”.
“Fuckers”
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….
Levi was driving home when he saw it. ‘Mushrooms and Flowers’, the flower shop (Y/N) worked at. His body reacted before his mind could stop it. And before he knew it his car was parked in front of it and he was halfway between his car and the shop.
A bell rang when he entered the small shop. It was cozy, fairy lights hanging from the celling and the walls were covered in flowers, and by the counter there was a mushrooms display. “Levi!” A familiar voice called from him. “So good to see you” She walked over to him. “How can I help you?”
He was silent. The cold, stoic, gives zero shits Levi Ackerman, was fucking silent.
The hells wrong with you?! Speak!
“I need some flowers” Yeah, idiot why else would you be here?! “You came to the right place! What is the occasion?”
Oh god? Was he going to get flowers for a girlfriend? Of course, he had a girl, a man that gorgeous always have an equally beautiful woman by his side. You cannot compete!
(Y/N) was equally nervous as Levi. The same pang of jealousy raced through her at the thought of him with another woman. “A girl” was all Levi muttered out. Sadness filled (Y/N), but she bit her tears back. Not wanting him to know about her feelings for him. The same feelings that had kept her up at night and made her heart race in a way it never had.
“Well, we have some beautiful roses in many colours! What’s her favourite” (Y/N) tried not to sound disgusted by the mentioned of another woman.
Levi thought back to when (Y/N) mentioned what her favourite colour was. “Orange”.
Good taste, (Y/N) thought. “Well, these are my favourite. They have a nice deep orange colour and gets pretty red at the tips of the flower leaves”. (Y/N) pointed at the flower in the rose’s aisle. Levi agreed that it was beautiful and didn’t hesitate to say: “I’ll take it”.
His apartment smelled of roses. On his kitchen island, four rose bouquets of the orange flowers sat. He had gotten all they had in the store. He was opening a new bottle of whiskey. Not knowing what to do. The glass he filled was quickly swallowed and he filled another.
“I blew it!” He shouldn’t have said it was for a girl. What if she thought it was serious and stopped talking to him? What if she found out that he lied about having a girl and though he was a creep?
A million bad thoughts raced through his head, until he finally decided. He was going to do something about it. Maybe it was the adrenaline, maybe it was the alcohol. But a new wave of courage waved through him and he grabbed the flowers and his keys. He knew Hange had a meeting at work, so (Y/N) was home alone.
The walk over was quick. But not quick enough. When he reached the apartment door, the courage washed of and he realized what was going to happened. He was going to confess and she was going to reject him. Why would she not? She has probably heard about his insults and how cold he is from Hange. Why would someone as cheerful as her want someone as dickish like him?
No, he couldn’t do it. He left the building.
(Y/N) heard someone moving around outside the door. She looked out the peep hole and saw no one, but something on the ground caught her eye. The flowers Levi had bought from her. All four bouquets. Wasn’t these flowers for a girl? After a minute of looking at the flowers with pure confusion, it clicked.
She was the girl.
Without thinking she ran after him. Only in her sleeping shorts and tank top, and her slippers, she ran down the stairs and out to the street. After looking around, she caught him walking away.
“Levi!”
He turned around and was met with her body colliding into him. She was out of breath after running down all the stairs after him. “The hell you doing out here brat!”
He looked down at her hands and saw the flowers. He rubbed his hand down his face and sighed deeply. Here comes the rejection.
“Was I the girl?” He looked down at her. Risking it all, he nodded. “Yeah, yeah you are”. Time stood still. The people around them didn’t matter, the rain that was starting to pour down didn’t matter, only them. He looked in her eyes, looking for an answer, but when she pulled him down too meet his lips, he got it. Even though it took a moment for him to realize this was actually happening, when he snapped out of it he kissed her back.
It was like something out of a movie. The rain was pouring down. He was bending her back down a bit and leaning down with her. One hand was behind her back, stabilizing her and the other was on her jaw, holding her close. Her hands were wrapped around his neck. He broke the kiss when he felt her shivering against him. Suddenly he was reminded that they were out on a busy street, it was almost midnight, and she wasn’t wearing clothes fit for the rain, or just being outside in the cold.
“Let’s go inside, yeah?” She nodded her hand. As they walked back to her apartment hand in hand, Levi thanked the gods that Erwin had dragged him out to that boring bar.
A/N: Hope you like it! I'm not too happy with the ending, its a bit rushed but i am writing this at 2 am, sooo hehe. Might write a part 2! Take care :)
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instasiswetrust · 3 years
Text
Rain patters against the window panes, filling the room with the cozy kind of silence that leaves you feeling lethargic no matter what time of the day it is. A thunderstorm had enveloped Hawkins like a shroud, refusing to budge despite the sunny morning that had greeted them.
Steve is all loose limbs, and comfortable warmth, cozy under the arms that wrap around his waist. He's got his head tucked under Billy's chin, ear pressed against his chest to listen to the steady beat of that heart. A heart that he almost thought he would never hear again after-
"Let's get out of this town. Drive out of the city, away from the crowds."
The words are spoken so quietly that if Steve didn't have his head on Billy's chest he doubts he would have been able to hear them. They are enough to make him lose his grim train of thought. Maybe for the better.
Wait, what?
It takes a moment for the words to register, a frown finding its way upon Steve's face. Propping himself up on his elbows he looks down at Billy with questioning eyes.
"Where would we even go?" Because he's not going to say no to an offer like that. Hawkins is too big at times, but other times it feels so small like he's suffocating just by existing among the borders of this town.
"Does it matter?" Billy's voice interrupts his thoughts, a gentle grin curling his lips. "We could just take one of the cars and drive out, see where the road takes us. Get out of Bumfuck, Indiana for a few days. Live a little."
"We live enough just by being in Hawkins."
"Fighting eldritch creatures from another dimension doesn't count."
"I don't know man, going toe to toe with a demodog makes me feel pretty alive."
Billy rolls his eyes but the way he tenses up, iron-clad defenses raising once again, makes it clear that he's serious about this. Steve doesn't give him time to take back his words though, leaning in to press a light kiss to the hollow of his throat.
After everything that happened with Neil, Billy almost dying and then moving in with him, Steve doesn’t have the heart to deny him this either.
"I will go with you. Wherever it is you want to go, even if it's to a shitty diner in Chicago three hours from here, then I will go with you."
He hopes Billy catches onto the real meaning of his words despite their playfulness. Because it's true, Steve would follow him back to California as long as that's what he wanted. As long as Billy asked him.
But he hadn't. And there was only a week left before Billy went back to California.
By now Steve had resigned himself and accepted the truth. That this thing they were doing, this sort of relationship they had stumbled upon, was bound to end just as summer did. The only thing he wished for, the single thing he would ever ask of Billy, was to at least remember him.
“But for real, is there somewhere you want to go?” He asked, hoping to push the depressing thoughts of his love life to the back of his mind for now. If he wanted to have a crisis about how everyone he had ever loved always left him, he could do that once Billy left for UCLA.
“I know your music taste is all pop bullshit but you have heard of Summerfest, right?”
“The music festival in Milwaukee? It’s been advertised on the radio for a while now. Something about Bryan Adams being there, I think.”
“Yeah, that’s the one.” Did Billy sound nervous? Why? “You want to go?”
Steve blinked in confusion, sitting up a bit so he was straddling Billy’s lap and could face him. “I mean, it would be cool but the tickets sold out weeks ago.”
“Got in contact with some old friends from Cali. Managed to snatch a couple of tickets.” Billy shrugged, smirking up at Steve despite the slight hint of nervousness. “Wanna take that drive now, Princess?”
---
A day later they had everything ready.
The Camaro's trunk was packed with two duffel bags with enough spare clothes for a week, snacks, bottles of water, and a first aid kit Joyce had forced into their hands before leaving. Steve hoped they wouldn't need to use it, though.
It was Jonathan's gift that had made him tear up a little. He had fixed his old Polaroid camera and offered it to Steve with a decent amount of film already inside it. Something told him that it might've been Nancy's idea but either way he was glad.
He didn’t know he needed a physical way to remember this week but was glad to have it.
Billy doesn't comment on it once they are back in the car but he does raise his eyebrows in a silent question. Steve just shrugs, not feeling like untangling the complicated knot of emotions lodged somewhere inside his chest.
---
It's still light outside when they make their first stop.
There's no finesse in the way they scramble into the backseat of the Camaro, nothing delicate about the way Billy tugs him into his lap, just desire and barely contained desperation. Then they are kissing again, wet and messy and perfect.
They are parked in the middle of some woods somewhere on the way to Chicago. Steve's not sure exactly where anymore, having forgone the map maybe half an hour after they left Hawkins. It's not like it matters. It's not like anything matters other than the heat of Billy's skin on his. His kisses, the bruises he litters on pale skin, and the way he can't seem to stop touching Steve like he will disappear if Billy so much as blinks.
And Steve understands. He really does. Because once summer ends and Billy has to leave Hawkins for UCLA, there will be no more moments like these. No more nights of having the blond next to him in bed when he goes to sleep. No more shared meals on the couch while going through his parent's VHS collection.
There will be no more them.
So instead of focusing on the unbearable ache the thought alone creates in his chest, Steve chooses to focus his attention on pushing Billy down against the leather seat and moving back so he can work on getting those tight jeans low enough for him to bring Billy's cock to his lips.
"Fuck! Baby, that feels so-" Familiar fingers bury themselves into his hair, pulling on the strands and making him moan. He relaxes his jaw then, looking up at Billy who seems to have caught on to his intentions if the smirk on his lips is anything to go by.
"You want me to fuck your mouth, baby? Make you choke on my cock?"
"Pwhease." Talking with his mouth as full as it is isn't easy but he's rewarded by the look on Billy's face. His eyes darken, his lips part and the grip on Steve's hair tightens. It’s enough to send heat pooling low in Steve’s abdomen, a muffled whine escaping his lips.
Billy starts up with slow, barely contained thrusts, his eyes never straying away from the sight between his legs. He knows how much Steve likes
Considering how keyed up they already were, it’s no surprise when Billy only lasts a few minutes before he's coming hot and heavy down Steve’s throat. He swallows everything, choking a little on the cock still inside his mouth. He only pulls away when the grip on his hair finally grows lax.
Steve barely gets enough time to catch his breath before Billy is surging up and dragging him into a messy kiss, licking into his mouth and chasing the taste of himself on those lips. It should be gross. Hell, it is gross. But somehow it's also one of the hottest things Steve's ever experienced and he can't help but moan into the kiss.
His breath hitches turning into a whine when he feels Billy's spit-slick hand inside his briefs, wrapping around his cock. He's already so sensitive that there's not a single ounce of shame in him as he ruts into the touch, needy sounds falling like raindrops from parted lips.
"Billy, Billy, please- Fuck, I want-"
"Jesus, you look so pretty like this. So needy. Gonna come for me already, baby?"
“Uh-huh”
“Ask me pretty, baby, c’mon.”
"Let me come, please Billy." Steve whimpers softly, arms coming up to wrap themselves around tanned shoulders. He's shaking from the pleasure, muscles tense and every nerve alight. So damn close, already.
It's then that Billy starts to jack him off in earnest, thumb pressing against that sensitive spot just under the head with each upward stroke, his mouth otherwise occupied with suckling at the freckles that litter the skin of Steve’s neck and shoulder.
“Billy I-” Steve’s eyes roll back and his teeth clamp down on his bottom lip in a futile attempt to muffle the loud moan that slips out from his chest. It’s only when he bats Billy’s hand away from his cock that he finally starts to feel like he can catch his breath again.
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heybeybey · 3 years
Text
Kismet
Braindumped this yesterday so now you have this fic.
Thanks to @sleeperswakewriting and @anya-grace. They didn't really push me to write this. It's more like 2 people liked the idea and I'm weak for Rivetra so here you go.
Still dedicating this to the two of you for supporting my need for lolo (grandpa) levi + roller skating petra!! 🖤🧡
Pairing: Rivetra | Levi x Petra
Genre: Fluffy romance!!! Tooth-rotting fluff so sweet that I'm gonna write heartbreaking angst next to balance things out.
Summary: The ginger-haired waitress skates over to him, her pink skirt a flurry behind her. She stops beside his table and gives him a disarming smile. "Welcome to Kismet Diner! What will you be having today, sir?"
Okay, so this diner wasn't a shitty choice after all.
Or: 50s Diner Waitress! Petra x Retired Soldier! Levi Modern AU
[Also, if you wanna listen to the songs Levi was forced to listen to in this fic, here's the playlist.]
--
Sweeter than candy on a stick Huckleberry, cherry or lime If you had a choice he'd be your pick But lollipop is mine
If he's going to listen to another most-likely-already-dead-woman belt out a cheery love song, Levi's sure he's going to finally pop a vein. He grumbles as the next track plays, grateful that this one is more on the mellow side so he can actually focus on his work.
Old school music on loop aside, Kismet Diner is actually pretty decent. They serve good food for an establishment that he thinks is trying way too hard to be a blast-from-the-past monstrosity.
Levi found the place by accident when he was out trying to find a place to work. He didn't feel like spending another evening inside his apartment and thought a change in scenery might help him decompress his mind.
Fucking codes just won't write itself, he thinks.
After wheeling himself around his new neighbourhood for a while, he found that this diner was the only thing open. Having no other choice, he found a spot for himself and settled in with his laptop.
He didn't expect that he'll be returning every night though.
(And that he'd be willing to listen to these cheesy retro love songs every time.)
From behind his laptop, he sneaks another glance at the bubbly server.
He distinctly remembers his first night here. A ginger-haired waitress skated over to him, her pink skirt a flurry behind her, as he settles in his chosen seat. She stopped beside his table and gave him a disarming smile. "Welcome to Kismet Diner! What will you be having today, sir?"
Okay, so this diner wasn't a shitty choice after all, he recalls thinking at that time.
It took him a moment or two to finally answer her and she diligently noted down his order. She flashed him one last smile after she promised that she'll bring his food over in five minutes.
He spent those five minutes feeling like a real creep because his eyes never left her.
It's been a few days since then and he watches her now as she picks up the leftovers from the table in front of his. She wishes a customer goodbye, and skates back to the counter.
"Petra! Think you can extend your shift a little bit? Rico called in sick," a voice from the counter calls out.
"Sure! Her shift's until 1 am right?" The ginger, Petra, replies.
And that's how Levi found himself staying at Kismet Diner until 1 am.
- - -
I laughed at love 'cause I thought it was funny You came along and you moved me honey I've changed my mind, this love is fine
"I think the customers like this song but I can't seem to place what the title is..." The rush hour has since lulled when Petra wonders out loud to the other waitress who's still in the kitchen.
He remembers this one. The older guys back in the military would belt it out when they're drunk as fuck on days when they're allowed to have a break. Frankly, it gave him a headache every time and he doesn't know how Erwin and all the other soldiers were able to take Pyxis seriously after his one-man concert.
He speaks up without thinking.
"Great Balls of Fire by Jerry Lee Lewis."
"Yes, that's the title!" Her eyes light up and she fully spins to face him. "You're into oldies music?"
Levi blinks, and for the first time in his life, he found his throat dry because she's finally talking to him fuck fuck fuck what will he say what was the question again.
"Uh... yeah, I guess?"
Wait, what?
She skates over to his table, a wide smile on her face. "That's so cool! I don't meet a lot of people my age who's still into the oldies. Even my dad teases me about it."
"Oh..."
"What's your name? I'm Petra, by the way. But I think you already know that," she grins sheepishly, pointing to her name plate. "I know I shouldn't really be talking to you but you're here every night so I thought it might be great to get to know our regular customers more."
He blinks up to her, trying to get a hold of himself before he fucks this up even more.
"Levi."
"Nice to meet you, Levi." She looks at her wristwatch and her surroundings, probably checking if there are more tables to cater to, before turning back to him. "My shift's over but I think you stay up late here, right? Mind if I sit with you? I haven't eaten dinner yet and I'd appreciate the company."
He gives her a shrug as his approval and she beams another smile before disappearing back to the kitchen. Petra comes back after a few minutes, still in her pink waitress uniform but without the cap and she also changed her skates to normal cream flats. She brought along a small bag and she unpacks it after sitting down at the chair in front of him.
What the hell is happening?
"Don't get me wrong. I love the food here but it's a bit overpriced if you ask me," she says as brings out her lunchbox. "Don't tell Nanaba that though."
"Wouldn't your boss fire you for randomly inviting yourself at a customer's table?"
"Nanaba? We go way back high school. She's the one who's pushing me to take breaks actually."
They sit in silence for awhile after that. Levi watches as she munches on her sandwich while he takes another sip of his coffee. Not knowing what to say, he just turns back to his laptop to type away. Petra, on the other hand, seems like a great conversationalist.
"So... what's your favorite?" She speaks up after having few bites into her dinner.
"Favorite?"
"Song? There's a lot of classics that deserve attention but I'm curious which one caught your attention."
Fuck.
His mind comes up blank until the image of his blonde best friend came to mind. Erwin knows about this old school shit. Not surprising because he's more ancient than Levi is.
What was that song Eyebrows belted out again when they went on that dreaded karaoke night? He recalls Erwin singing something after his cheating long-distance girlfriend finally broke up with him when they were allowed to call their loved ones.
"Mr. Lonely by Bobby Vinton stuck with me." He replies, again without thinking. She laughs out loud the moment the words were out his mouth and Levi frowns in indignation. "Oi, if you're going to laugh at my shitty taste in music then you can get your ass off my table."
"No, no." Petra wipes away a tear from her laughing. "I think it fits your grumpy 'get-off-my-lawn' grandpa vibe. What, someone broke your heart recently?"
"Grumpy grandpa?" Pretty smile and bubbly personality aside, he's starting to think this woman's a bit rude.
- - -
He's still back the next day though.
"Good evening, sir! Will you be having the usual?" Petra greets. He gives her a slight nod before wheeling himself to his spot. He watches as she flurries around during the dinner rush hour, skating from one table to another. She never loses her smile, even when one lady was being a bitch after Petra delivers the wrong milkshake.
Unlike the previous nights where he's content with just sneaking glances at the gorgeous waitress, Levi spends the next few hours gathering the courage to make a move.
Petra stayed in his table until closing time last night and he listened as she babbled on about all their menu offerings and how she likes creating the milkshakes and the coffee the best.
He'd like to think that they're somehow acquainted enough for him to maybe ask her out.
A look a-there, here she comes There comes that girl again Wanted to date her since I don't know when But she don't notice me when I pass
The booming music is only making him nervous, the cheesy lyrics is pissing him off and fuck, he really wants to punch the music player off right now.
Once Petra finally skates over to him though, setting down his usual black coffee and clubhouse sandwich, he takes his chance.
"Are you free tomorrow night?"
"Sir?" She blinks at him and he almost melts as he stares at her huge amber eyes.
"Uhm... you mentioned that you have Fridays off," he starts. "There's this fair that will be opening tomorrow night and I thought you might be into that. First day's the best time to go too while the crowd hasn't shit on the place yet."
The more he hears his words, the more he wants to kick himself with his still working leg.
He notices that a faint blush started to color her cheeks, eyes shifting down before she gives him a shy smile.
"I'd love to go with you, Levi."
- - -
"Wow, you..."
"Were able to hit them all?" He gears up to shoot the last can. "I was in the military."
"No wonder you have that cool scar!"
His eyes darkens a little bit at that, mind taking him back to the career-ending moment that led to where he is now.
Petra seems to notice his reaction. "I'm sorry, I didn't-"
"It's fine. It's been almost a year." He cuts her off. This day's supposed to be fun and he's not allowing his PTSD to take over his chances of charming a girl (which was already low at his current state, he thinks).
"That's amazing, son!" The guy manning the booth approaches him. "Feel free to pick any prize for the lady."
Petra looks down to him for approval, asking if she can pick a prize or if he'd rather pick one since it was him who won after all. He gives her a small smile, gesturing towards the display of prizes.
He watches as Petra buzzes around in excitement, deciding on whether she should get the elephant plushie or this creepy clown plushie that caught her attention for some godforsaken reason. (He pushes her to get the elephant one instead.)
I've got sunshine on a cloudy day When it's cold outside I've got the month of May I guess you'd say What can make me feel this way
"Vanilla is still the best."
"You're boring," she retorts. "How can you only try mint chocolate just once in your life? You get refreshing and sweet dark chocolate at the same time. It's the best combination out there!"
"Yeah, if you like eating your toothpaste," he retorts back.
"Come on, just give it a chance?"
They're settled on a bench right now, his wheelchair parked next to the seat. They take this opportunity to have a conversation while they finish their ice cream.
He learns that she's currently finishing up a nursing degree and that she's working part-time at Kismet Diner to fund her studies. She has an obsession with mint chocolate ice cream, and that she truly loves skating outside of work because she also does roller derby on the weekends (with her boss Nanaba and another girl named Nifa). She's an only child and her dad currently lives in the countryside.
Levi tells her a little bit about himself too and he's glad that she respects his reserved nature. He doesn't tell her about his time in the military, only that he used to be a captain for a few years before he left. He also shared that he used to pursue a degree in Computer Science before dropping out halfway through to join the military. Since he left, his unfinished degree has been useful since he was able to find consistent freelance opportunities as a web developer.
That seems like the perfect job for someone who's anti-social as you, she notes and he gives her an unamused look.
He also finds out that he's actually ten years older than her, and he feels even more like an old man at that moment.
"Hey, I like your grumpy grandpa vibe," she teases him.
"You'd get along with Gabi and Falco."
"Who? Are they your kids?" Her eyes lights up when she takes note of his fond tone before it starts to narrow in suspicion. "You're not married are you?"
"What? Hell no. My hair would probably be gray now if they were." He says. "They're my neighbours. Both... what? 13 I think? They wouldn't stop pestering me since I moved into the complex a few months ago. Those two brats also won't stop calling me grandpa. Do I really look that old?"
"I'd say it's because of the wheelchair but it's actually your scowl that completes the look," she replies with a cheeky smile.
When they're done with their ice cream, Petra rolls him around while he holds on to her big-ass elephant plushie for her. He'd know she's excited about a booth in particular when he feels his wheelchair move faster towards their destination.
Throughout the night, she won them a bag of lollipops once and Petra insists he takes them home to Gabi and Falco. He, on the other hand, was surprised that his military background would be useful for something as useless as carnival games. His fast reflexes and sharp eye bagged them a few more wins, with the last game earning them a free popcorn.
- - -
Before they capped off the night, Petra (the retro lover that she is) led him to a nearby jazz club that she visited once. She insisted that it's on the way home so why not drop by? The atmosphere is more chill than Levi expected so at least he didn't have to listen to another upbeat bubblegum retro track.
"Come dance with me?" She says after a moment of watching the couples on the small dance floor.
"In case you haven't noticed, I'm on a wheelchair for a reason."
"We can work around it." Ever the optimist, she leans down to try and help him stand up. "Lean yourself on me. I'll support you throughout."
Levi obliges, placing all of his weight on his working left leg while trusting the rest to Petra. He has his arms around and he tries to start moving with her.
He almost slips as he takes another step and in frustration, he attempts to sit down instead. "It's no use Petra-"
Petra's hold on him tightened. "Just trust me a little more Levi."
He sighs, attempting to stand again. They do find the right balance and rhythm on the second try and Levi breathes out in relief.
Soon, they're swaying to the music and Levi couldn't remember the last time he was upright like this, except for when he has to drag himself around with his crutch in the mornings.
Put your lips next to mine, dear Won't you kiss me once, baby? Just a kiss goodnight, maybe You and I will fall in love
"Petra?"
"Hmm?"
"I'm not really into oldies music."
"I know. I realized that when you only kept mentioning the famous hits."
"Huh."
"I actually cringed when you said you liked Mr. Lonely."
"Shut up." She giggles at that and they finally sway in companionable silence, taking in the slow beat.
When the music stops, Petra reaches up to him, placing a kiss on his cheek. He feels his face warm up, throat bobbing as he stares dumbly at her.
"Thanks for tonight, Levi." - - -
Levi goes back to Kismet Diner the next day, and the day after that. He's there every night and she's always the one who takes and serves his order.
He'd accompany her as she eats her late-night dinner on his table and he sometimes brings her some cookies he baked that morning. Nanaba would throw Petra a smirk here and there whenever she serves his table or when Petra clocks off to have dinner with him.
"Your captain's here," he once heard the taller woman whisper to Petra once the door closes to signal his entrance.
Levi would order the same black coffee and clubhouse combination that Petra eventually offered him to try other things on the menu. "Come on, it's on the house! Why can't you just try other options?"
Love me tender, love me sweet Never let me go You have made my life complete And I love you so
One morning three months into getting to know each other, Levi wakes up feeling contentment wash over him when he smells that she's brewing his usual order from his own apartment kitchen.
Petra enters his room beaming a few minutes later, black coffee and a plate of pancakes in each hand. He distinctly notes that she's playing her retro love songs on loud speaker again and he's long since given up on stopping her.
She leans down to place his breakfast on the side table and she starts peppering kisses from his scarred cheek up to the affected blind eye.
"Good morning Levi!" He wholeheartedly accepts both the breakfast and the kisses, hooking his arm around her waist and cuddling closer to her as he sits up in bed.
He takes her in and finds that he slightly misses the pink uniform and roller skates she dons while she serves him at the diner... but he won't deny that he definitely prefers seeing her draped in nothing but his slightly oversized white shirt instead. "Morning."
🧡🧡🧡🧡 ehehe send fic requests here if you'd like
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todourouki · 4 years
Text
Misery Business | K. Bakugou
a one shot
✰ SUMMARY the one where you didn’t mean to take the hothead away from his girlfriend, but you did anyway. It was nothing personal, you just knew that Bakugou Katsuki deserved way better than what he was settling for.
PAIRING Taken/Pro-Hero!Bakugou & Fem!Reader
WORD COUNT 4.6K
WARNINGS explicit language, mentions of cheating, cheating lol, suggestive language, angst, and some fluff at the end bc I cannot end my fics in a bad way I am weak sorry!
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You were not a home wrecker.
At least, you wouldn’t say that to your own face.
You knew that the crush you had on Bakugou was wrong. You know that no matter how it is that you put it, or however strong your feelings are, or even however long you’ve even had feelings— liking a guy in a relationship was a huge no-no.
You weren’t the kind of girl to go around liking a girl’s boyfriend, though. It’s not like your feelings magically appeared out of thin air and now you’re stuck falling inlove with a guy that finds solitude in someone else— no, you aren’t like that.
Your feelings for Bakugou are much more complex, to say the least.
It all started in high school, when just the mere thought of the boy brought butterflies to your stomach with how strong and courageous he was. From his attractive face, to his blunt and explosive personality, you always found yourself admiring him when given the chance.
All of that went to shit when he decided to finally give one of the girls that were always fawning over him a chance during the beginning of your third year attending Yuuei Academy.
It was like you had gotten punched in the face, and now it feels like you’re just purposely getting stabbing in the heart every time you did as much as look at them.
That definitely explains why you’re sulking at your table during a school dance with a scowl on your face so you don’t have to see the happy couple waltz around the cafeteria floor.
All the top Pro-Heroes were assigned to attend the dance as academy alumni in order to ensure the safety of the students (as well as make sure students even decided to show up). You, being one of the top five heroes, were ordered to show up with no complaints.
The song currently playing finally changed from a low-tempo song to a much higher one, and with that, you decided to make that your imaginary queue to take a walk around the school’s building before returning to the large decorated area.
Your heel-clad feet dragged you all the way across the gymnasium, sending kids smiles if they were in your way and simply telling them that you were “getting some fresh air before the real fun starts.”
The doors slammed shut, and the solitude of the hallways engulfed in dark hues reflected against your strained eyes in a way that made you have to physically restrain your hand from harshly rubbing at it in order to make sure your make up stood intact.
The halls reminded you of a younger you (and by younger, you mean two years. you’re only 20 and already have the mind of some old hag) that used to run through these halls with a mini little green skirt and an imagination you wish you could still understand.
They also reminded you of the blond boy inside. Especially the room you stood in front of right now.
Almost as if it was second nature, your body made its way to Class 1-A: the place where it all began, the place where you met your closest friends, and the place where you fell inlove.
Opening the door, the lights turned on to reveal a classroom almost identical to the one you walked into every day four years ago. The desks were positioned the same, the posters remained in the same spot, and even the words on the chalkboard seemed oddly familiar.
The room reeked of new paint and textbook papers, and the only thing you really wanted to smell was the designer perfume clinging helplessly to your body so the odors of a high school class don’t even think twice about sticking to you.
Your body walked towards your old desk, Seat 12, the dress you wore clinging to your body as you pulled the chair out and nostalgically sat down. You were a first year all over again, and the thought made you laugh.
You looked embarrassing your first year— as embarrassing as someone who looks like you now can get. From the hideously overheated hair, to the emo phase you still seemed to sort of be stuck in, the world seemed too easy no matter what bullshit was going on the minute you sat down at that desk.
That explained how you felt now— no matter how much your heart yearned to be in the hands of Bakugou, the minute the cold sturdiness of the chair touched your warm body, all of that disappeared. For once, nothing in the world mattered. More precisely, Bakugou didn’t matter.
“Tch, I knew you’d be in here.” Annnddd there goes that.
Your eyes widened, now staring at a smirking blond wearing a black and white tux instead of the chalkboard you once zoned out on.
His arms were crossed against his muscular chest, and the muscles outlined the button up shirt in a way that should just be downright illegal. His face was gleaming with mischief, slowly walking his way over to the empty desk directly next to yours, taking a seat, and positioning his body in a lazy manner with his legs propped up against the table. Just like before.
“You know, this brings back a lot of shitty memories.” He grunted, stretching his arms behind his head and lolling his head to face you.
You nodded in response, glancing your head up to look at the lights in a way to move the gears in your brain to say something. Literally the same thing you used to do during Midnight’s long, tedious classes.
“Yea, a bunch of ones I’d much rather forget.” You said, looking over at him and watching as his eyes stared directly at the window you always found him staring out of when he wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone in class.
“Always hearing your annoying ass mumble and suck your teeth used to really piss me off.” His words were masked with seriousness, trying to hide the playful smirk on his lips you identified much too quickly. With that, a scoff left your lips and you crossed your arms.
“Nobody said anything about the pencil you insisted on tapping for hours straight.” Your jab back made him chuckle, looking back at you with vermillion eyes that made you lose all sense of feelings.
Your breath caught in your throat, and you always forgot what it was like to look at anything before you looked into his eyes. That’s how scary it was— how intimidating it was to be under his presence. His eyes captured you, holding you hostage and probably never letting you go.
“At least we didn’t sit next to each other during our third year,” he began, placing a hand loosely around his tie as he continued to look at you in your eyes, “I don’t think I would have ever focused with the humming you did to the same damn song every day.”
“Yeah, instead of me though, you ended up sitting with your future wife.”
Stupid, stupid, stupid, STUPID.
It was like word vomit, the snarky tone slipping through your lips as if it was trying its hardest to come off in a jokingly manner, only ending up appearing as sarcastic as possible. It was like the words fell from your tongue quicker than you could punch your own esophagus.
Bakugou stood quiet for a moment, staring at you and knitting his eyebrows together as if deep in thought. Your eyes ended up leading you back to the words Relief Fund written messily against the green chalkboard to save your embarrassment.
You didn’t see the frown itching across Bakugou’s lips.
“We aren’t married, ya know. I don’t know why people decided to start that rumor.” He said, a sigh passing by his lips to quiet his tone as if he was scared his girlfriend was around to hear it.
“Might as well marry her. You’re not really the kind of guy that dates just to date.” Your words struck hesitantly in the room in a timid yet informative voice, and Bakugou watched the board as well so that you were both avoiding each other’s gaze.
“Yeah well I’m not sure, marriage is a big deal.” Bakugou was muttering, and the tone of his voice made you crane your neck over to where he was seated as you stood quiet.
What were you, someone who was basically inlove with him, supposed to say that?
You both stood in silence for a few seconds, the words in your throat itching to escape as the remnants of memories you both had both in class and just together in general filled your vision.
“I always hated this seat because I knew it meant that I would always be the person you would argue with.” You began, closing your eyes and releasing a strained scoff from your glossed lips.
You didn’t know what you were doing, or what you were talking about, but as the moon danced across the pale boy’s face and the music in the cafeteria continued to gently ring through the halls, the only thing you were thinking about doing was speaking more than you ever have.
“Morning after morning, I grew used to your loud voice and extremely hostile—” “HAH? I was NOT—”
You sent him a glare, immediately cutting him off and proceeding your weird speech that just couldn’t let anything go.
“Anyways, morning after morning, I ended up looking forward to the words you decided to call me and yell at me about for the day. It’s like, if it didn’t happen,” your arms moved in an animated way, catching Katsuki’s full attention as he looked on to your rant, “I felt like my day wasn’t really an actual day, ya know?
The one thing you loved appreciated most about Bakugou was his ability to listen. And when you say listen, you mean just listen. His ears were perked up in your direction, shoes turned towards you and eyes watching your movements like a hawk.
“And then—” you gulped, pausing for a second in order to think your words though. It was always now or never to you, the drama giving you a sense of hope against a man like that.
It’s either I bring it up now, or I never get to speak my peace, and I refuse to be one of those people showing up to the wedding yelling ‘I oppose.’
“And then it was here that I realized I was the biggest idiot alive by feeling the way I felt about this one person.” You said, eyes glaring at the wall in front of you blankly as you cowered behind the whisps of your lashes.
Bakugou said nothing, but from the corner of you eye, you could see him staring at the side of your face with an expression you had never really see on him.
“I spent years pining after some dumbass that didn’t even see the genuine interest I had in him.” Your words were like alcohol, and Bakugou was too busy drinking them all in to fully acknowledge what you were talking about.
“I watched him give in to this one girl though,” a lightbulb when off in the boy’s head and for once, he felt like the idiot in the room, “a girl that doesn’t even care for him.”
“Y/N..” Bakugou growled, almost as if he was threatening you and warning you to tread on light waters.
If there was one thing he ever respected about you though, it was that you were never scared of him.
Your eyes snapped towards him, a scowl on your face as you began to feel anger bubbling up in your stomach from the way he tried to shut you up. You were finally speaking your peace and he’s too much of a coward to let you finish?
“You know, I thought the first red flag of her trying to change his attitude was enough. I thought that maybe, just maybe, after her telling him that being number one hero wasn’t really tangible, he’d have some common fucking sense and see what everyone else sees.” Your words were like venom, your eyes not leaving his as you huffed in your seat.
“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” Bakugou’s voice was low and angry, laced with anger as he stared at you just as intensely as you stared at him. Your expression never faltered, and instead, you turned your entire body around in the chair to fully face him with arms across your chest.
“I know exactly what the fuck I’m talking about,” you taunted, your anger only rising in value, “and so the fuck do you, Bakugou.”
“You know she doesn’t give a fuck about you and you know very fucking well she’s only with you because you’re Bakugou Katsuki!”
His name slipping off your tongue brought shivers to his spine as he sat up in his seat and glared at you with the tip of his ears painting themselves a light red hue.
He was angry— not necessarily at you, but at the fact that he was getting called out for something like this. He was getting called out for finally being with a girl and was getting shit for it from someone he saw as a best friend.
“You don’t know shit— you don’t even fucking know her.” His voice began to get louder, the bass in his voice causing your heart to vibrate as you shocked both you and him by slamming a hand against the desk in frustration.
“For God’s sake, Katsuki open your fucking eyes!” You only used his first name when your emotions were high, and that made the man’s hands shake in anger as he watched your outburst.
“She forgot your anniversary! She doesn’t make you your favorite food— fuck she doesn’t even kiss you unless there’s a shitty camera around!” You stood up, stomping your feet and watching as he stood up quickly after you and scowled over at your angry face.
“She doesn’t care enough to remember shit that you don’t like which is why you always end up at stupid shit like this and she doesn’t even care to meet your friends!” Your voice was now loud, the music of the cafeteria being long forgotten as you huffed over at him and slammed a finger into his chest at every syllable you spoke.
“You want to know what I think about her, Bakugou? Bestfriend to bestfriend?” The words bestfriend seethed through your lips like venom as your finger dug itself into the middle of his pecks. He said nothing, waiting for you to continue as his hands balled into fists along his sides.
“I think that you’re such a fucking pussy, you can’t fathom being with someone who doesn’t worship the ground you walk on the way she does.” You growled, narrowing your eyes at his angry expression as you took a step closer to him threateningly.
“I think you hate the fact that I’m right— the fact that she blatantly uses you and doesn’t give a fuck about you, and you hate the fact that I know you so well enough to know that—”
Before the last few letters of the words could slip through your lips, a warm hand slammed against your fingers and snatched it into his grasp as he began to huff in anger. The caramel smell only increased, and you could sense his quirk begin to flare the abnormal heat in his hands up every second.
“You don’t know shit,” he growled, his voice raising as he began to yell at you in your face, “you don’t know shit about me!”
“Are you shitting me?!” You exclaimed, grabbing at the hand that grasped yours with a grip so tight Bakugou had to glance at it quickly before reverting his eyes back to yours.
“I’ve known every little fucking thing about you since we were fifteen!” You yelled, tears threatening to spill down your eyes as the anger inside you finally erupted in a way you couldn’t control.
“Nobody asked you to be so invested in my fucking life anyway!” He retaliated, his voice booming through the room as you stared at him incredulously.
“I was so fucking invested in you because I’m fucking inlove with you, you idiot!”
Your voice silenced the room, the grip he had on your hand tightening as he stared at you with shocked eyes yet the same familiar scowl you were used to. Your expression never faltered the way his eyes did when he heard you, though. You stood your ground.
“It’s so annoying seeing the guy you are inlove with be so unhappy in a relationship because he feels as if he has no one else.” Your voice began to quiet down, a tear slipping down your eye as Bakugou watched you with a slightly softened face.
The hand gripping yours loosened a bit, still gripping it to his chest as he wrapped all his fingers around your bracelet covered wrist.
“It’s so annoying watching you try to force someone else to fall inlove with you, when I’ve been inlove with you for free for years. It hurts watching you try to force yourself to be inlove with a girl you know you don’t want to be with. It just fucking hurts Bakugou, so fucking bad.”
There was a crack in your voice that Bakugou knew all too well from the restless nights you’d spend together, and it didn’t take much for him to engulf your frame into a tight hug as he rested his head against yours. You dived into his chest, the familiar warmth wrapping around you in a way that made a few more tears slip from your eyes. You didn’t make a noise, but he knew that you were hurting.
Neither of you said anything, only holding each other until you removed yourself from him and wiped the tears off your face before he could see the evident streams marking your cheeks. He stared at you silently, as if he was contemplating something.
With timid eyes, he watched you fix the straps of your dress to find something to play with under his gaze. The silence was deafening, and was an unusual characteristic for the boy who always had something to say.
“You know she hates me, that’s why you never bring her around me.” You said, a tone of blankness carrying your voice through the room as your tears dried up and was replaced by the anger haunting your heart once again.
“No she doesn’t, she just feels like we’re too close.” Bakugou retorted, sighing and taking a seat on the chair he once occupied. You followed suit, leaning against the back of your own seat as you faced his body.
“Back in high school, I never told you this, but her and I argued in the bathroom once.” You informed, dryly chuckling as you watched his face contort with confusion.
“I told her that her pretty little face and fucked up manipulation wasn’t going to keep you around in the long run.” You stood quiet after letting him know, gulping some saliva down as you averted your gaze from his body to your painted nails. “Guess I was wrong.”
Bakugou didn’t know what to do. There were many things the man was capable of: he could destroy any villain in his way, was braver than any other fucking half assed hero out there, was smart as fuck, and could manage a relationship as well as being a top pro-hero because that’s just who he was.
What he couldn’t do, though, was fully digest the situation in front of him.
He bit his lip, running a hand across his face in frustration and staring meekly at your face. You couldn’t help but admire his frame as you did before. He was strong, well-built, smelled good, had great posture— there was nothing wrong with him. It was almost surreal.
“We’ve been dating for like two years.” Bakugou’s low voice broke the silence as he stared deep into your now glazed over eyes. You didn’t break the contact, hands rested against each side of the seat as you watched him speak.
“I’ve been dating her for two years and yet...” His words were lost, almost sounding as if he was hesitating the very same way you were earlier. You said nothing though, knowing he would stop expressing himself if you had opened your mouth.
“And yet I can’t help but imagine she was someone else.”
It was like every word he said was the last glass of water, and you drank it up against your skin in a way that brought goosebumps to his. You furrowed your eyebrows, silently signaling for him to continue.
“I never told you this,” he mocked your voice, his scowl still resting against his soft face, “but there was a time where I thought about what it would be like if we were a shitty thing.”
Everyone always assumed Bakugou and you would end up together. Whether it be from watching you both pin are each other relentlessly, to watching you fawn over him, and from just watching your interactions with one another— it almost seemed destined for you two to work out. Keyword: almost.
“Shitty Hair and Dunce-Face tell me all the fucking time that I’m an idiot for choosing this girl over you.” He scoffed, and you couldn’t help but feel your stomach tingle at the use of the name ‘this girl’ for his own girlfriend. “It’s not like I wanted to, you were always my first option.”
You stood quiet. The last sentence was lower than the others and sounded way more vulnerable. You couldn’t help but gape at him, repeating it in your brain as if they was the last words you’d ever hear again. You were always my first option.
Maybe it was the buzz you felt from the energy within the room, maybe you were drunk on adrenaline, or maybe you were just being a fucking dumbass, but the way your feet moved you from your seat to the desk he was sitting at was something you just couldn’t stop in time.
Bakugou hasn’t said anything beyond what he just finished as he watched you gently push his body away and hop up onto the desk. Your body was now inches away from his as you watched him shyly. You were always so obnoxiously close to him, so why is it that his stomach was throwing fireballs at his insides now?
“You deserve better, Katsu..” You lowly began, fiddling with the rings on your fingers as you glanced over at his body through your dark eyelashes. “Does she take care of you?”
Your words hit him in the chest and he couldn’t find it within himself to look away from you. He wasn’t sure what it was, or how you were doing it, but he was entranced by your every word and it was scaring the shit out of him. He found himself shaking his head, eyes never leaving yours as the scowl in his face began to soften.
“You’re a strong man, Katsu,” the way his nickname slipped from your lips nearly made him melt, the unfamiliar feelings he was so used to suppressing caused his head to jumble around and process your words, “you need someone who takes care of you the right way.”
You watched him, a hand lifting towards his head and running itself through his soft yet spikey hair. Bakugou always claimed he hated it when you played with his hair since that was something he thought no one was close enough to be able to touch, but he always seemed to lean into you unknowingly.
His chair scooted closer to the table, your legs now in between his lazily opened ones and his body aching to go closer into your touch.
“What are you suggesting?” His dark voice questioned, eyes staring at you as the once softened expression transformed into another of a slowly rising mischievous smirk. You were sure you were breathing earlier, but now? Not so much.
“Are you suggesting that I need someone else to take care of me?” His words hit you hard, your body facing whiplash from all the sudden changes of emotion.
You looked down shyly, trying to find the confidence you once had that was now lost in the gush of your flustered moment, yet Bakugou’s calloused, warm hand then reached up to your chin to perk it up to face his now standing body.
“Are you saying that you should be the one taking care of me?” He asked, staring at your eyes with more intensity than you were fully even prepared for. Your eyes dug into his as the feeling of his hands on your chin caused your brain to short circuit for a moment.
“You said it yourself, I’m a strong man.” You could feel the confidence drip from his words as you bit your left cheek to keep from whimpering at the intensity laced within the empty classroom. “I need someone to take care of me the right way, and I don’t think this girl is doing it Y/N.”
The use of your name caused you to tug your bottom lip between your teeth and blush behind his words. You didn’t miss the way his eyes quickly zipped from your eyes to your mouth, and back to your eyes once again. His body was now towering over your seated one, looking down at you as if you were the only person in the world at this moment.
Bakugou was out of it, to say the least. Usually he felt as if he had control over situations like this, but even with towering over your frame and his hand gripping your chin, he felt as if you were in complete control of the situation. He knew that his current girlfriend was probably coming to look for him, and he knew that everything was inevitable and he was simply just prolonging it.
That didn’t stop him from sliding his hand across your neck to grip the back of it and pull your face in towards him.
A kiss was the last thing you were expecting, and you would have gasped if his lips weren’t putting you in such a trance. It was like everything had stopped, time stopped, the dance stopped, everything was just on a hiatus.
His tongue danced against yours in a way that made you whimper lowly into his touch. His hands explored your body, rubbing against you in exasperated motions as you reciprocated by rubbing your hands across his chest, shoulders, and waist. It was like you were both doing the last thing you’d do before the world came to an end.
His lips moved feverishly across your own as tilted your head upwards to get a more comfortable position. A warm yet equally rough hand snaked it’s way back onto your neck and gripped your throat with such possession, you felt a tingle reach your lower half.
The intensity of the make out was one that put every other sound to shame as the room was filled with nothing but the small whimpers coming from either of you and the sound of your lips smacking against his. It was like a dream, and Bakugou couldn’t control himself any longer as he groaned into your touch.
It wasn’t until a gasp broke the seductive silence within the room, as well as pushed the two of you apart only to see his girlfriend staring at the two of you with wide eyes and a fizzy drink in both of her hands., that you realized something.
Shit just got really fucking complicated.
back to masterlist
I wanna have an angsty kiss moment with bakugou
>:( damnit anyways yeah like, reblog, comment, follow! thanks for reading! don’t forget to send some requests in <3
- heilly
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bnhabadass · 4 years
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Pairing: Hawks x Reader Warnings: NSFW, Apocalypse AU Rating: 18+ Word Count: 4489 A/N: So excited to share with you all my contribution to this month’s bnharem smut server collaboration. I would like to give a big thanks to @candychronicles​ for beta reading this and to @hisoknen​ for introducing me to Fotor. My banner looks so much better now thanks to you. Don’t forget to check out everyone else’s stories here!
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If there’s one thing you miss most about the old world it’s the color green. The bright green of trees in the summer, the soft grass you would run through barefoot, the small insects that blend in so well with their surroundings. You haven’t seen any of that in ages. As you run through the woods, all you can see is brown. The moss patterns snaking their way up tree trunks have all disappeared. Dead leaves crunch under your heavy boots and the trees around you are so dry they could catch fire in an instant.
You stop to catch your breath. How long have you been running? Two miles? You’re not sure if you lost the raiders or not. What you do know is that you’re alone, you don’t have much food and if you don’t find a good source of water soon, the oozing cut on your leg will become infected.
You find a tree stump to rest on and take a swig out of your canteen. You’re tired. Your body has never ached this much before. Every muscle is pounding, every crevasse uges to be stretched. As you try to move your left leg, you can’t help but hold back tears. It stings too much. You take the bandana out of your hair and tightly tie it around the slice in your leg. You take a safety pin out of your backpack and secure the cloth. It’s not much, but it will keep pressure on the wound until you can find something to patch it up. You might need to raid someone’s campsite to find a bandage. The thought sickens you. You hate associating yourself with them.
You were the medic of your team, the keeper of all the medicine, bandages and any antiseptic wipes that you came across. Your team members would do the hunting and the raiding and they would come back to base each with an arm full of food and supplies for the lot of you.
Then they started dropping like flies. One of them got sick and wouldn’t get better. Another got an infection that you couldn’t get rid of. You still beat yourself up for his death every time you think about him. One of your teammates went hunting and never came back. Pretty soon it was just you and your team leader. You stayed together for a week. She taught you how to hunt and you taught her what plants were edible and which ones could be used for healing. Then the raiders came and now it is just you.
You close your backpack and stand up. Nothing good will come out of sulking, so you might as well try and make a move on.
As the sun sets, the fiery orange colors swarm across the sky. The moon rises up and slowly comes into view. At least that’s one thing that’s the same from the old world.
Without the adrenaline coursing through your veins, you can feel the stinging of the cut on your leg even more. You limp through the woods at the pace of a tortoise for what feels like hours.
The only food in your backpack is a can of fruit salad leftover from an abandoned grocery store raid. It’s something, but it wouldn’t be enough to subside the growling in your stomach.
A light catches your eye. Smoke rises from the top of the trees. You could go over there and see how many people there are. If there’s only one you might be able to take them on. Two or more could end in a disaster, but if you have the slightest chance of making it out with gauze and a hunk of meat roasted over the fire you might be able to survive the night.
Your eyes squint and you walk forward, trying to get a closer look. You are off your guard when you feel something tug around your ankle and hoist you into the air. You can’t help but let out a small shriek. You are quick to cover your mouth with your hand but you are very much aware that the noise alerted the people near the fire.
“Well well well,” a voice from below you sang. “Looks like I caught a little dove.”
The rope around your ankle is tight. You feel your foot starting to grow numb as the person from below lowers the trap, setting you free.
“Who are you?” You fiddle with the rope but the knot is too tight.
“Allow me.” You look up at the person, the man standing in front of you. He takes out a large swiss army knife and opens the blade. He saws through the rope, careful not to cut you. “Sorry about that,” he says when it’s finally off. “People don’t usually come around here so I’ve never gotten anyone hung up on these bigger traps.”
He extends a hand out for you and you take a moment to study his features. He has messy ash blonde hair that is slightly overgrown. His toned muscles are enunciated by the fact that he is only wearing an undershirt.
You grab his big, slightly sweaty hand and stumble up from the ground.
“Whoa easy there.” His friendly tone of voice hits differently than the other people you have come across throughout your nomadic travels. It’s very soothing, trustworthy. And that makes you worry all the more.
“What do you want from me?” you ask.
The man eyes you up and down. His gaze makes you feel uncomfortable, like he’s eating you up with his eyes.
“What happened there?” He points to your leg and the blood soaked bandana that has begun sliding down to your ankle.
“Raiders.” A one word response that everyone knew meant trouble. “Now answer my question. What do you want from me?” Your voice is sturdy and, in your opinion, threatening.
But the man just laughs. “Trust me, dove. There isn’t much I want from you.” He begins walking back towards his camp site. You watch as he leaves but he stops in his tracks. “Coming?”
--
The man’s campsite was small. A red pickup truck is parked at one end of the clearing. It doesn’t look like it runs anymore. Mud and dirt have been spread along its side to cover up its bright hue.
“So,” the man asks. “Do you have a name?” He is fiddling with the contents in a small lock box as he speaks.
“I’m,” you seath as the pain from your leg begins to get to you. “(Y/n).”
“That’s a pretty name,” the man says. “I’m Keigo. So, (Y/n). Let’s get that cut cleaned up.”
You are confused. People in this day and age aren’t usually nice, especially to stragglers like yourself. “What are you doing?” you ask when you see him come over to you with a cloth soaked in some substance. You pull your leg back out of instinct but your breath hitches again when the stinging returns.
“It’s just an antiseptic,” he says while putting his arms up in defense. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
Cautiously, you scooch over to him and rest your leg on a small tree stump.
Keigo slowly pulls his arms back down and kneels on the ground, taking your leg in his firm hand. His hand is warm. It’s big, much bigger than yours, but it has a gentle touch that calms you down as he presses the cloth to your wound.
You squeeze your eyes shut at the stinging.
“Sh sh sh I’m sorry. I know it stings.” He extends a hand out for you to grasp and you squeeze it as he continues wiping the dry blood off of your leg.
It isn’t long before your leg is bandaged up tightly, keeping pressure on the gauze underneath.
“That should hold for a while.” Keigo smiles down at his work and you can’t help but find it a little bit arrogant.
“How did you even get your hands on antiseptic? I was like the medic of my group and we could never find anything more than those shitty wipes during grocery store and pharmacy raids.”
Keigo looks at you with a smirk lacing his face. His friendly eyes are replaced with dangerous ones, ones that cause a hot pit to form in your stomach and travel lower, below your belt. “Let’s just say I have a few dirty tricks up my sleeve.”
“S-so you’re a raider,” you stutter. “You stole that bottle from another person.”
He chuckles slightly and the sound causes goosebumps to run up your spine. “Not exactly, it’s a lot more complicated than that, but believe what you will. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
You’re confused, somewhat afraid, and slightly turned on by the deepness of his voice and the vibrations emanating from his laugh.
“You should stay for dinner,” he says, voice returning to the cheerful and almost goofy tone it had before.
You hesitate, but your stomach growls as if on cue and you spot the piece of meat Keigo has laid out to place over the fire. You let out a huff. “Why not.”
--
Keigo has cut the piece of meat in half. He places it on a hard plastic plate and slides it over to you. It’s juicy but bland. Still, you’re grateful to have a hot meal instead of having to gather berries and edible flowers.
“Is it good?” Keigo asks.
You nod your head, face stuffed full. “Yeah. I haven’t had chicken in so long.”
“That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.”
You can’t help but laugh at the fake shocked expression gracing Keigo’s face.
“How did you even catch a chicken? They usually aren’t wandering around in the middle of the woods.”
“Neither are damsels in distress like yourself.” The sly smirk on Keigo’s face causes knots to form in your stomach as a wave of embarrassment washes over you.
“I wouldn’t say I’m a damsel in distress,” you mumble. Your head is turned in the other direction as you try to avoid eye contact.
Keigo raises his eyebrows and chuckles. “Oh yeah? Tell me, how did you get out of that trap earlier? Oh, and who bandaged up your bloody calf and squeezed your hand when the pain was too much to bear?”
“Shut up.” You lean over to playfully shove him, but in the process you fall off the stump you were sitting on. Your butt hits the ground with a thud.
Keigo laughs and extends a hand for you to take.
You reach for it, but as soon as he pulls you up he has yanked you over to him. You are now sitting on his lap and your spine can’t help but shiver as his big calloused yet comforting hands drag up and down your exposed arms.
“Poor clumsy thing,” Keigo says, a darker tone taking over his voice. He continues to warm you up.
You can feel his hot breath tickle the back of your neck as he moves his hands up to your shoulder blades.
“You don’t do much fighting do you?” he asks. His thumbs methodically move to work the knots out of your shoulders.
“I–” You have to recollect your thoughts and focus on anything other than his hands and the magic they’re working. “I told you I was the medic of my group. I, ah, I spent a lot of time treating hunting wounds.”
“So you’re hunched over someone’s broken body all day.” He stops using his thumbs to attack your shoulders and moves to using his knuckles and fists. “I can see why you have all these knots then.”
You can’t help but contract your body forward as he moves his hands down your lower back. You let out an involuntarily breathy moan at his actions.
Keigo chuckles, leaning his mouth in the crook of your neck. “You know your skin is really soft,” he mumbles.
You bark out a laugh. “You know, I’m starting to think you’re going to make a skin suit out of me.”
He laughs too and he gives your sides a slight squeeze.
You turn and look at the ash blonde man. He weaves his fingers in his hair and looks back at you with a devilish smirk. He’s beautiful, one of the prettiest men you’ve ever seen. And he’s touching you. His hands are groping your shoulders and your sides. You want them to travel all over you, from the plushness of your ass to the valley between your breasts.
You’re taken out of your thoughts when you feel something warm on your lips. Him. His lips crash into yours. It takes a moment for you to recognize your surroundings, what’s going on. His lips are dry and slightly cracked from the heat but you don’t mind.
Without removing your lips from his, you shift to a more comfortable position and Keigo is quick to continue roaming his hands all over you. He grabs your ass with one and tangles the other in your hair. When he pulls, you let out a gasp and he bites your lip, a low growl escaping his throat.
Tears pick in the corner of your eyes as the sensitive skin grows hot.
Keigo wipes them away with his thumbs. “I guess little doves don’t like teeth.” He picks up your arms and lazily wraps them around his neck. You clasp them together and adjust your position on his lap. “So tell me, dove. What kind of things do you like?”
Your face is hot. You wish you could smooth that feeling back but you can’t move under his gaze.
“What’s the matter?” he asks with that dark, sultry voice. “Cat got your tongue? I hear they prey on little birdies like you.”
You whimper slightly. There is so much you want to say to him but the heat pooling in your abdomen and the fluids leaking into your panties distract from any thoughts. Instead, you tangle your hands into his thick hair. It’s a bit greasy but so is yours. You don’t mind. You tug on a lock and grind your hips forward. You can feel the strain of his cock press onto your clothed folds, already soaked with anticipation.
“Someone’s a bit needy today aren’t we,” Keigo says. He takes one of his thumbs and puts it in your mouth. “Suck.”
His demand leaves you weak in the knees. You comply and begin sucking tightly on his thumb. Your tongue wraps around it and the bitter flavor is quick to take over your tastebuds.
As you suck on his thumb, Keigo moves his free hand up your tank top. He grabs one of your breasts and snakes his fingers underneath your bra to stroke your nipple.
You gasp as a shock of cold wind brushes past them. The bud becomes stiff and Keigo rolls the peak between his fingers.
“Are you gonna just sit there, or are you going to put that mouth to work?”
You blush and go back to sucking on his thumb. You lick a long stripe up the pad of his finger as he fondles your breast.
He slides his one hand around your chest and you hear the click of bra clasps becoming undone. The bra slides down your arms and you chuck it to the side.
Keigo takes his thumb out of your mouth and slides his other hand under your shirt. He thumbs over the sensitive skin of your nipple. “You know, you have a nice rack,” he says. “The perfect size, really.” He lifts your shirt up so he can see you in full. He traces his fingers over every scar and blemish you have gotten over the years of hiding and raiding and trying your hardest to put up a fight.
He leans in to press his mouth against your breast. He kisses between them and works his way down past the scars and scrapes to the waistband of your pants.
“Wait.” Your hands move to grab his wrist. “Is there, I don’t know, anywhere more comfortable where we could do this?”
Keigo looks around at the ground covered with dead leaves and miscellaneous supplies he’s tossed around. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t realize little birdies like you need to be pampered.”
The tease in his voice nips at you like ice and you can’t help but feel even more overheated than you already are. “Little birdies have fragile bones,” you retort.
The wicked grin on his face widdens and he chuckles into your neck, nipping it and taking you off guard.
He slides his arms under you and hoists you up. He turns around so you can’t see where he’s walking but your legs wrap around him, clinging like a koala.
Keigo jumps up onto something. He sets you down and you can see that you’re now standing in the bed of the truck. An open sleeping bag lies over a busted up looking mattress. You can’t help but smile at the thought of laying in a bed for once, be that a broken mattress with springs poking out the sides.
You’re taken out of your thoughts when you feel Keigo’s arm snake around you, pulling you close. You move your arms up and cup his cheek.
He leans in and kisses you again, this time with more force like a wild beast devouring its prey.
Your hands trail up his stomach under his shirt. Your fingers dance as they caress every one of his muscles. You are eager to rip the tight black t-shirt off of him and he can tell. As your fingernails rake their way down his back, Keigo lets go of your lips to pull off his shirt. In the split second he was off of your lips, you could see something red across his back. A tattoo maybe. You couldn’t make out what it was but it fades in your mind all together when he leans his mouth down to suck on the stiff peaks of your nipples.
He makes sure to give them equal attention before yet again trailing his way down your stomach with soft and sweet kisses. As he pushes you back with a gentle touch, you fall back onto the busted mattress. A loud creaking noise emanates from the truck bed but Keigo doesn’t seem to notice. He resumes his position between your legs. His fingers masterfully undo the button of your jeans and slide them down your legs.
You have never felt this exposed. Sure you’ve been naked with other people before but never in the woods where anyone could come across you at any moment, be that a raider or a hunter or someone trying to escape just like yourself. Still, every time you look down your stomach and meet Keigo’s gaze, you melt into butter and slip out of your worries.
“Now tell me,” Keigo said, beginning to drag your panties down. You stay connected to them with a thin strand of your own slick. “What do little birdies taste like?”
This is wrong. You’ve just met this guy. He’s a complete stranger. You don’t know who he is or what kind of person he was in the old world. You don’t know whether or not he is the type of person to make you chicken soup when you’ve come down with a cold or let you borrow a cup of sugar when you’re short when making a recipe. In the old world you would have never fucked a stranger after only knowing them a few hours. It’s all so foreign to you.
But this isn’t the old world and the way that Keigo growls just at the sight of your sopping cunt has your eyes near rolling into the back of your skull.
Keigo has pulled your panties down to your ankles. He chucks them aside before taking you in. Your hair is sprawled out against the creaking mattress. He has barely touched you yet you look like you’re on ecstasy. He wastes no time in hoisting your legs over his shoulders. He can’t help but feel prideful in the way you gasp at his rough movements.
You squirm underneath him as you feel Keigo drag the bridge of his nose across your opening to your delicate clit. The warmth of his tongue drags across and you let out a loud moan.
His fingers pinch your tender clit and you buck your hips forward against his soft lips. Keigo wastes no time in feasting on you. After all, you’ve proven to be quite the needy little dove.
Keigo prods and sucks at your clit. He sticks two of his fingers in and flicks them upward at a teasing pace. He chuckles at the sight of you thrashing and bucking your hips against him.
Every time you open your eyes to look at him, heat rises to your cheeks and you force yourself to look away.
He’s done this before. He knows his way around a pussy. From the way he dips his hot tongue into your slick walls and massages your clit with wet fingers, it isn’t long before the tethered cord within you snaps and you spray your juices against his fingers and against his face.
“Too much,” you said, placing a shaky hand on his bicep.
Keigo looks into your eyes. The darkened look he has shows that he could eat you without hesitation. He looks like he is ready to pounce. Instead, he takes the fingers covered in your juices and sticks them in his mouth. He runs his tongue between them and nearly sucks them dry.
You are still quivering below him, twitching from the lasting effects of your orgasm.
“Delicious,” he says, releasing his fingers from his mouth with a wet pop.
Your heart rate begins to slow. You sit up, although your muscles have a slight ache as you do so.
“Are you ready?”
Your mellow eyes meet Keigo’s feral ones. In the time it had taken you to sit up, he had stripped away his pants leaving him in just his briefs. The prominent tent below is what catches your eye. His hard on is begging to be let free. You tenderly lift your hand up and rub over his clothed crotch. The deep inhale he takes followed by a low growl makes your insides melt.
Keigo pulls at the waistband of his briefs, letting his hardened cock spring free. He steps out of them and thrusts his pelvis towards your face. His shaft slaps against your cheek and you take his hint.
Your hand wraps around his shaft and pumps against it a few times. Your thumb smooths over the tip and tongue tentatively licks the drops of precum that leak out. It’s salty and the sweetness comes from seeing the way Keigo melts as soon as your tongue glides against his length.
“That’s a good little dove.” His fingers tangle in your hair and his hand pushes you forward, forcing you to take his length in your mouth.
You grip onto the back of his thighs to balance yourself. Heat rises to your cheeks as it dawns on you how intimate you are being with him. His hand pulls on your hair as your mouth works wonders on him. His balls slap against your chin and you can’t help but let out a moan, the vibrations from your mouth work their way to his core.
You cup his balls as you try and milk him for all he’s worth. You give them a gentle little squeeze and his knees buckle. He tightens the grip on your hair to catch himself from falling.
Before he can cum, he pulls out of your mouth. Droplets of your spit fall from your lips. A strand of saliva that still connects you to his dick breaks off.
Facing away from you, Keigo strokes himself a couple times. “Why don’t you lean back,” he suggests.
You follow his orders and lie down on the mattress. The springs dig into your shoulder blades once again but anticipation keeps you from fixating on it too much.
Keigo leans down and hikes one of your legs over his shoulder. He gives your tender pussy another lick before slapping his dick against your puffy clit.
As you let out a moan, he lines his cock up to your entrance and snaps his hips forward.
You grip onto his bicep as he thrusts himself in and out at a fast pace, faster than you’re used to. You suppose he couldn’t wait. His dick is long and his girth stretches you out in all the right ways.
You try and catch your breath but you can barely keep up with the way Keigo pounds into you.
“Is this good for you, dove,” Keigo asks. He hikes your other leg up and leans in, touching his forehead with yours.
You scream in pain and pleasure as he hits your mark perfectly with this new position.
Your nails cling onto his back and your mouth finds comfort on his shoulder as you bite into him.
He lets out a sharp bark, almost like a howl as your velvety walls contort around his dick in all the right ways.
Keigo wets his fingers and trails them down to your swollen clit. He presses against it which only causes you to let out a scream in ecstasy.
It’s not long before the pressure built within you snaps and you tighten even more around Keigo’s hardened cock, letting your juices spill around it.
Keigo continues to pump in and out of you until his own release. He pulls out and cums onto your chest. As you sit up, the warm mess rolls down your abdomen and spills out on the sleeping bag covered mattress.
Keigo hands you a small towel. “Here.”
As you wipe the ropes of cum off of your chest and stomach you can’t help but think of the old world. Before the end of society as you knew it you would have never fucked a stranger two hours after meeting them.
Keigo has pulled his pants back up but leaves his shirt off. You watch as he pokes at the dying fire, bringing the embers back to life. On his back, you can finally see the bit of red that caught your eye earlier. A tattoo. Two red wings coming out of his shoulder blades. Keigo is an interesting guy, one you want to know more about. The thought of getting to know him better makes you blush and the apples of your cheeks raise in a genuine smile, something that you haven’t felt in a long time.
The fire illuminates Keigo and the soft smile he has melts your heart. Who knew that someone so cunning and snarky like himself could have such a sweet smile.
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mercurysnitch · 3 years
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1976 Guitar (200 follower celebration)
Summary: An Australian runaway walks into a London pub... and finds herself having a drink with the one and only Roger Taylor.
A/N: As promised, my little celebration piece. I actually started this after I hit 150 followers, but I put it aside because I wanted to work on other things, and then decided to keep it for my next follower milestone. Which ended up taking a lot longer than I was anticipating, but hey, we got here in the end. 
Just fyi for clarity, the reader here is Australian, but living in London after finishing journalism training. Yes, even in the 70s London was full of runaway Aussies. But it must have seemed a lot further away in the days before instant messaging and video chat and free phone calls over the internet.
Title is from a Skyhooks song, recorded well after the 70s, incidentally. The bits in italics are lyrics from the song. This isn’t a song fic, and I honestly can’t remember why this is set in 1976 (I think it just sort of popped into my head like that) but those particular lyrics seemed quite fitting.
Warnings: Drinking, light swearing
*********************************************************
...one night I met a girl at the Sebel bar
And she taught me how to play that 1976 guitar
London, 1976
You decided you liked English pubs soon after you moved to London. They were cosier than the airy places you were used to back home, and the clientele were a lot less rough. Most of the time.
Your favourite pub was your local, just around the corner from your poky little second-floor flat. Decent food, good drinks, and interesting people. The bands playing on Saturday nights were always worth a listen too. Tonight, though, was a weeknight, which meant you were there for a stiff drink and maybe a nice greasy pub meal.
You hardly looked at the bartender as you flopped onto a stool. He floated over almost instantly anyway. "What can I get yer?" "Whiskey please" you ordered, attempting to be polite but mostly sounding tired. The barman smiled. "Coming up." It was fairly empty in the pub, so he returned with your drink almost immediately. You smiled gratefully and wasted no time taking your first sip. But you'd barely swallowed it, still dealing with the afterburn, when you heard a huff of surprise from a neighbouring stool.
You turned in the direction of the noise to discover the source: a youngish bloke with shaggy, pale blonde hair and big blue eyes. He looked strangely familiar, but you couldn't think where you recognised him from. If you weren't so annoyed you would've been taken aback by how attractive he was. Instead you glared at him. "What's your problem, mate?" He flashed you an annoyingly pretty smile. "Nothing. Just don't see many girls drinking whiskey like that." "Like what?" you shot back. "Like they do it all the time. Suits you, though." He flashed the smile again, and you felt your anger ebbing away.
Seeing the smile again seemed to jolt your memory. "Fucking hell," you gasped, "you're Roger-" "Don't say it" Roger hissed, cutting off your exclamation. "You'll tell the whole pub and then I won't get a moment's peace all night." You immediately looked downcast. "Sorry." Roger smiled reassuringly. "It's alright."
You eyed Roger curiously. "So tell me, what's the drummer from Queen doing in a place like this?" He broke into a cheeky grin. "I could ask you the same question" he said flirtatiously. "I've had a very long day and I live around the corner" you told him. "What about you?" "We used to play here, in the early days" he explained. "I always liked the atmosphere, and the people are always… interesting."
Suddenly you noticed him eyeing you up with curiosity. "I like your accent but I don't recognise it. Where're you from?" he asked casually. "Australia" you told him cheerfully. You noticed his expression fall slightly. "Not from Sunbury, I hope" he joked. You grinned cheekily. "Melbourne, actually. But I don’t blame you for not liking Sunbury." Roger was shocked. "You know about that?" You nodded. "I was there. It was a great day, actually, for me at least." Suddenly you smiled. "Anyway, whoever thought booking Queen to play at Sunbury was a good idea clearly knew nothing about bloody Sunbury. Or Australians, frankly." Roger smiled grimly at the memory. "God that was a shit gig. Might be the worst reception we've ever had." "If it makes you feel any better I enjoyed your set" you told him softly. "Queen's just a bit too sophisticated for most Aussies, I think." "But not you?" he asked, smiling. "But not me" you agreed.
"So what brought you to London anyway?" Roger asked. "I got sick of Australia" you told him. "It's so… behind, culturally. Anyone who's a serious artist or writer or whatever buggers off to London or somewhere first chance they get. So when you're still there you feel so far away from everything, it really feels like you're at the arse-end of the world sometimes." Roger grinned. "Arse-end of the world. I like that" he mused. "But I don't think you've come to the other side of the world just because you thought Australia was boring." You stared at him crossly. "Oh yeah? Why d'you reckon I'm here then?" you asked, challenging him with a look. "I think you ran away from something" Roger declared softly. "As far away as it was possible to get, just about."
You stared at him in shock. Now you thought about it, he wasn't exactly wrong. Suddenly your expression darkened. "Well, I suppose I'm running away from my mother and her bloody expectations of how I should live my own bloody life" you grumbled. He quirked an eyebrow. "Expectations?" "She wants me to be like her" you explained. "Find a nice bloke with a ‘suitable’ job, get married, buy a house, pop out a few kids, be a bloody housewife for the rest of my days." 
"And you don't want that" Roger said quietly. He understood how it felt to choose a life different from the one your parents wanted for you. "No, I bloody well don't" you agreed. "I want to achieve things with my life, have a proper career." Your mother had told you several times that there was no point trying to advance in your job since you were just going to quit when you got married anyway. The recent feminist revolutions seemed to have entirely passed her by, but then Australian society in general did have a tendency to run a bit behind on things like that.
Roger's gravelly voice pulled you out of your thoughts. "And what might that career be?" You smiled. "I'm a music journalist. Well, I'm a researcher right now, but I'm trying to freelance a bit on the side." Roger nearly laughed. "Y'know, most music writers seem not to like us for some reason" he observed wryly. "But I get the impression you might be an exception." You grinned. “Wouldn’t you like to know.” "Maybe I would" Roger quipped.
You both drank quietly for a while, Roger gazing at you curiously. "Y'know, you never did tell me what's driven you to drink on a Wednesday night" he commented, casually as could be. "You really want to know?" you asked incredulously. Roger nodded. "Wouldn't ask if I didn't, love." You sighed. "Well, I was supposed to have a date last night, but he stood me up, which was just a delightful way to spend an evening" you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "Then this morning my boss was even more of an arsehole than usual, and I found out my article that was supposed to be published next week got pulled from the issue, so god knows if it'll ever see the light of day now. And then when I got home the disappearing date had the nerve to ring with a pathetic excuse that I'm almost certain he made up, and apparently he was blind to the possibility I wouldn’t want to reschedule the date he missed until I spelled it out to him."
Roger winced in sympathy. "Christ, that is a shitty day." “Well, it seems to have improved since I got here” you observed, flashing a sly smile. Suddenly he grinned, not bothering to be subtle about eyeing you up again, almost appraisingly this time. “You know, I could make it even better, if you’re interested” he said smoothly. You cocked an eyebrow in interest. “Oh, really? And how exactly would you do that?” “Have dinner with you” he replied, not missing a beat.
You blinked, shocked. “You want to-to what, take me out to dinner? Why?” “You seem interesting” Roger said, shrugging. “Besides, I like having company when I’m out, being alone’s not as fun.” You had to agree with him there. “So is it a date, then?” you asked, still a little uncertain about the turn your evening was taking. Roger smiled cheekily. “If you want it to be” he said. He seemed nonchalant, but you thought you detected a flicker of uncertainty under the rock-star swagger. You grinned. “You know what, bugger it. Take me on a dinner date, Roger.”
******
There were some decisions in your life you would live to regret, but going on that first impulsive date with Roger wasn’t one of them. One date very quickly became many, and before you knew it Roger was a fixture in your life. Well, as much as a touring rock star could be, anyway. You found it oddly satisfying writing a postcard telling your mother you were going out with a shaggy-haired rock’n’roll drummer, knowing he was almost the complete opposite of the sort of person she wanted you to pair up with. You’d also finally managed to get an article published in the paper, but, predictably, your mother’s response to your postcard entirely neglected that achievement in favour of detailing every reason she thought you should leave Roger and return home immediately. None of them really held much weight, and the suggestion your actions would damage your reputation back home was in your view rather forcefully disproven by the enormous quantity of messages you received from both friends and relatives congratulating you on both the article and your choice of boyfriend.
You did eventually find the things your mother wanted for you with Roger, in a way. Technically you never actually got legally married, but you were deeply committed to each other. And you did end up with the big house and the family of your own, alongside a flourishing career in rock journalism. It wasn’t always easy, juggling everything and getting people to take you seriously as a journalist, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. Sometimes, just sometimes, you were just a tiny bit grateful for that shitty day in 1976.
In '74 we got tight, in '75 we starred
Then we learned to play that 1976 guitar
**************************
A/N: I don’t think there’s too many Australianisms in here, but feel free to ask if you’re confused!
Taglist: (as always let me know if you want to be added/removed/think you should be on here but aren’t - it’s been so long some tags have changed since I added them) @wandering-at-midnight @royal-avengers @trumanjo @ohmygoditsanthonyedwardstark @itsametaphorbriansblog @wineandwanderings @simplyvictoria-93 @kotoamor @j1224 @florenceivy @jennyggggrrr @mercurycrowley
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