#though admittedly she’ll respond

[blindmagdalena]

A Transactional Relationship ( Homelander x Victoria Neuman )

18+ 2.7k mild coercion, transactional sex, blood/period, cunnilingus.

In exchange for aiding her in her political campaign, Homelander makes an outlandish request of Victoria. She attempts to dissuade him, but what's a little blood between two serial killers?

people have been asking me for a fic where Homie earns his red wings since i started writing him. i've done it. written for this prompt by @deliciouskeys! 🖤

Throughout Victoria’s life, she’s come to terms with a great number of what she would consider to be necessary evils, and there is no better example of this than being forced into doing business with Homelander.

Admittedly though, there is some satisfaction to be found in dropping in on him unannounced. It’s late enough in the evening that she doesn’t risk drawing undue attention to herself, and perhaps enough that she’ll catch Homelander entirely unawares. 

As she waits at his door, part of her wonders if he’ll answer it in cute little American flag pajamas.

She could use a good laugh.

Victoria straightens up slightly when the door swings open. To her delight, Homelander does look properly caught off guard. 

No pajamas, though. Too bad.

His brows are reaching for his hairline, his lips parted in bewilderment, though the curve of them melts slowly into an incredulous smile as he looks around her, confirming that she is, in fact, alone.

“If it isn’t my good friend Vicky Neuman,” he says, forearm braced in the doorway. “Don’t tell me Singer’s got you campaigning door to door for him.”

“Singer doesn’t know about this,” she says brusquely. They both know that. He just takes pleasure in making her out to be a lackey. “Are you going to let me in or not?”

His expression falters at that, gaze dipping to give her a once over. She’s not dressed any differently than usual, but he’s looking at her like she just broke out into a completely different language. After a beat, he turns sideways and extends his arm, gesturing her inside.

The door closes behind her with all the weight of an iron gate, and what greets her on the other side of it renders her momentarily speechless. The rich, dark walls of Homelander’s penthouse are decorated nearly floor to ceiling with replica paintings of various historical Americana. Historical figures–primarily presidents–spy her every step into the house while gaudy statues adorn every corner she rounds, all of them leering at her with hollow stone eyes. 

She knows she wears her distaste plainly because Homelander is quick to say, “I didn’t have much say in the decor.”

“I don’t believe you,” she responds simply, giving the statue of Atlas a poke. It’s solid marble. Vought clearly spared no expense in Homelander’s eerie little superhuman terrarium. It reminds her of a themed fish tank.

God knows she’d much rather be on the outside of the glass, tapping at it just to see how he squirms.

“Rude,” he snorts, though he doesn’t press the matter. Caught him.

It’s obvious even in casual conversation that Homelander isn’t accustomed to being contradicted or corrected. He watches her with an unsettling sort of bemusement, and there are times where she gets the sense he says things just to see if she’ll refute him. She makes a point to keep it up.

“Please, sit,” he says, gesturing to a stiff looking sofa that has a very large American flag mural for a background.  Of course it does.

“That’s not necessary, I’ll be quick,” she says, reaching into her bag.

“Ah, ah, ah. I insist. Sit. I won’t listen to a word you say until you do,” he says, causing her to look sharply back up at him. He’s smiling cordially, arms folded behind his back. No matter how garishly they dress him or how lightly they bleach his hair, there are moments when the predator lurking beneath cannot be disguised.

Her upper lip twitches, her initial satisfaction with whatever she thought she had accomplished–inconveniencing him?–disappearing in a flash. Of all the things in this world to despise, men and their insufferable little power trips sprinkled into every interaction certainly rank the highest. With an unfriendly smile, she sits and brandishes a thin ring binder from her bag, offering it to him.

“Don’t tell me it’s another senator,” he says, taking the binder from her. He begins flipping through. Despite his insistence that she sit, he remains looming over her. She leans back against the couch, disinterested in being face to face with that ridiculous codpiece of his.

“Nothing so exciting. More of a laundry list. Simple but tedious tasks. You can handle that, I’m sure,” she says, trying to keep too much of the venom on her tongue from permeating her words. 

“I’m not your errand boy, Vicky,” he says, lacking any of her vitriol. He actually seems to be in a strangely pleasant mood. Still, she loathes how ugly he’s made her name with his snide use of that little nickname. His brows pinch as he reads. “Scholarships for Godolkin?”

“Pawns on a chess board,” she says vaguely. “Keep reading.”

He does. After a few more pages he scoffs out a half-laugh, closing the binder. “You want me to shmooze for you?” He asks, gesturing with it.

“An election is nothing but schmoozing. Your side is pro-supe, and we need that. Like I said: simple but tedious tasks. Nothing you aren’t already used to,” she says, crossing her legs.

Homelander looks down his nose at her, studying her while he absently taps the binder against his palm. “And… What do I get out of this little transaction?”

She really wishes he wouldn’t play coy. As if they haven’t established this already. “Quid pro quo,” she says, lifting her hands in an open gesture. “Tell me what it is you want. We negotiate from there.”

He gets a look to him that tells her that’s exactly what he wanted to hear. Casually, he tosses the binder onto the far end of the couch. “Alright,” he says, and to her confusion, he lowers himself into a kneel. She draws her legs more snugly to the couch, but it doesn’t stop him from putting a hand on her knee. “I want to taste you.”

His words are immediately followed by a piercing ring in her ears, like the blare of sirens. She stares numbly at him, replaying the words again and again in her mind until they begin to lose their meaning.

“Excuse me?”

“C’mon, Vicky. Don’t play dumb with me. You really think I believe you came here to ask me to run errands?” As he speaks, he pries her legs out of the tight cross she’d put them in. She fights it, but you wouldn’t know it by watching them. The machine press of his strength is so overwhelming, so utterly insurmountable, she’s briefly dumbstruck by the feel of it. “You know what I think? I think you like having me in your back pocket. I think you enjoy feeling like you can control me, showing up out of the blue for your petty little favors,” he says with a truly feline look of self-satisfaction, settling on his knees between her legs. “But y’know what else I think? I think… I can do so much more.”

“I don’t want more,” she says through her teeth, jaw clenched. She grips the armrest of the couch tight enough to make the wood beneath the leather groan. “I want what I’m asking of you. Or are you incapable of following a simple agreement?”

He laughs, kneading both of her knees through her pants. “I’m abiding by the agreement. You said I could have whatever I want.”

He really just hears what he wants to hear. She narrows her eyes. “Not once did I say that.

“Don’t be pedantic. You asked what I wanted. I want this,” he says, sliding his hands up her thighs, thumbs pressing firm lines along the inside of her legs. “Just this. Just a taste. Just until you come.”

She slaps her hands down on top of his, halting his hands at her midthighs. “If I say no?”

Despite the minimal hold she has on him, his hands stay still under hers. It gets under her skin the way he looks up from her hands on his, how pleased he looks with the whole situation. She despises feeling like the mouse in this game between them.

Those gaudy eagle epaulets bounce as he shrugs. “Then there’s no deal. Your loss, honestly,” he says, evidently content to leave his hands right where they are.

“You’re disgusting,” she says, no longer withholding the acrimony from her voice. He looks unaffected by it–no, not unaffected. Amused. She gives his hands a shove and they lift away so easily she almost forgets how heavy they felt a second ago, poised in the air like a sign of surrender. She snaps her legs tightly shut. “Besides, it’s a bloody mess down there.”

“Oh, please,” Homelander scoffs, lowering his hands to either side of the couch, caging her in. “Don’t tell me that you, of all people, are squeamish about blood. You’ve already put blood on my hands, congresswoman. What’s a little on my tongue?”

“There is something profoundly wrong with you,” she says, feeling claustrophobic with the way he’s bracketing her in.

“And yet you haven’t said no,” he points out, leaning closer, pressing her knees into his sternum. She puts a hand on his shoulder to halt him and a little thrill runs up her spine when it works. She feels as though she’s holding a tiger at bay with her bare hands. His nostrils flare, taking in some scent that curves his parted lips into a faint smile. “In fact, you’re actually getting off on this.”

She briefly considers making her move. Boom. One big surge. All that hot blood rushing to his skull with such speed and force that not even that thick neanderthal skull can stay in one piece. Or maybe it would be the only thing that remains and all his blood and brain matter would just go shooting out of every orifice like a macabre sprinkler.

Victoria swallows the thought like bile, clearing her throat. If it doesn’t work, she’d be dead faster than a drop of blood left his nose.

“Fine,” she says eventually, ignoring the way it seems to fill his chest with air to hear. “In exchange for everything in that binder. Everything. No half-assing. Full measures taken.”

She can’t afford to lose. She keeps that in mind as she unbuttons her pants.

“Rest assured, Vicky. I’ve never half-assed anything in my life,” Homelander purrs, taking hold of her slacks and underwear in one go, helping to slide them down her legs. He slips her heels off with them, setting them aside.

Meanwhile, she slips out of her jacket, tossing it over the arm of the couch. It feels too strange to be so dressed only from the waist up. 

Looking back, it sincerely bewilders her to watch him take a moment to fold her slacks before he puts them down next to her neatly placed shoes.

There’s something freakishly clinical about him sometimes.

Turning, Homelander takes hold of her ankle, and slips her heel back on.

“What’re you doing?” She asks suspiciously.

He glances over at her, and for the first time, she doesn’t see arrogance or condescension in his expression. He looks a little sheepish, actually. “I like them,” he tells her simply, putting the other one back on as well. 

Deciding to let it go, Victoria leans back against the couch. Homelander eagerly nestles back between her legs, spreading them. She reaches backwards in an arch, behind her head, and grips the back of the couch, tense and thrumming with a sickly kind of anticipation that makes her gut churn. She glances down at him, and to her dismay, she finds him just staring between her thighs, gloved fingers digging into her inner thighs where he’s keeping them spread. 

“What? Do you even know what you’re–” looking for, she means to ask snidely, but the words turn into a hiss as he dips down and ruthlessly sucks her clit.

“Mmmmhm,” he hums. Even the sound of that is smug. The pull of his lips is indescribable, so relentless that it doesn’t feel human.

“Jesus Christ, Homelander,” she grits out, her other hand moving to grab a fistful of his–surprisingly soft–Barbie blond hair. “Softer. Your mouth feels like a goddamn Dyson,” says, giving his hair a harsh pull. It makes him moan. Embarrassingly, the combination of that noise and the way he instantly, obediently eases his mouth on her feels… good. Very good.

Initially, she’d resigned herself to closing her eyes and enduring him until the stimulation provided a bodily response that would satisfy him enough to stop. Instead, she watches him, taking in the sight of her hand balled up in his hair, his expression. His eyes are closed, head slightly tilted. He looks different like this, expression content. Downright blissful, even.

“Use your tongue,” she hears herself say, giving his hair another yank. Already she’s more of a participant than she told herself she would be, but if she’s going to do this, she may as well do as she pleases. He lets out a light grunt, flattening his tongue and nuzzling in against her, moving his head back and forth. It sends a spark of pleasure through her that makes her buck her hips, breaths coming in progressively more shallow huffs.

Lifting her leg, she catches her heel on his shoulder and jams it in, using it as leverage to grind up against his mouth while simultaneously pushing his head down. He’s so compliantly loose-limbed that she can almost believe she’s overpowering him. Using him. He makes an appreciative noise low in the back of his throat, holding her thighs tightly to either side of his head. 

She can tell from the way he’s rocking that he’s thrusting his hips, but there’s nothing for him to move against. He’s putting his all into laving his tongue in aggressive patterns, matching her energy as she fucks herself harder and faster on his tongue. Insufferable as he may be, he eats pussy well enough that she can feel herself climbing steadily towards the edge of climax.

All she has to do is come, and then this is over.

She gives his hair a sharp upward pull, but aside from a moan, his pace doesn’t lessen. “Stop,” she growls with another pull, and this time he lets her lift him. She doesn’t know why, but she knows she has to see him. Look him in the eye.

Their eyes meet, and the state of him makes something in her stomach lurch. He’s a fucking mess, blood smeared on his mouth and chin, tongue dragging hungrily along the seam of his lips. He looks drunk on her, eyes hazy and blown so black she can hardly see the eerily bright blue of them.

Victoria swallows, her mouth dry and her heart pounding. She holds him there, but he doesn’t speak, doesn’t protest. He just watches her, wholly pliant and awaiting her next move. He’s so utterly beneath her at this moment, stupid for the taste of her cunt and eager to please. It’s so intoxicating that it would make her angry if it didn’t feel so good.

She shoves him back down on an upward thrust of her hips and he moans for her. That tongue of his is immediately back on her, swirling as he absolutely devours her, hungrier for her than ever. This time she skyrockets back up to the precipice, biting back strained little moans. She doesn’t want him to know just how good it feels; the fact she’s actually going to finish is bad enough.

She bites down on her tongue and comes hard, her whole body tensing up as she all but crushes his head between her thighs, arching her back. Maddeningly, he licks her through her orgasm, moving his tongue with the pulse of her body with inhuman precision. It makes the aftershocks last twice as long, which leaves her limp and panting on the couch, his face pressed firmly between her thighs while she savors the process of coming down with his tongue still tracing languid figure-eights on her pussy.

“Enough,” she says eventually, lazily pushing him back with the heel she has on his shoulder. He falls back onto his ass with a satisfying thump, his hair thoroughly mussed and his face a mess. He smiles so dreamily at her, you’d think he was the one who came. He licks his lips in a slow, purposeful display that should make her roll her eyes. Instead, her sensitive clit throbs as she follows the movement of his tongue.

Fuck, she thinks woozily.

This may just be the beginning of a problem.

#homelander x victoria #viclander #homelander x victoria neuman #homelander #homelander fanfiction #in true ME fashion #this ended up being way longer than i meant it to be #woooooooo my first viclander fic #i'm not sure if i'm happy with how i characterized her but #i did my best! #my writing

[livelaughlovecassie]

Book: Blades of Light and Shadow

Pairing: Princess Valax x Nia Ellarious

Rating/Warning: General, mentions of injury

Summary: Getting to know people is a new experience for Valax. She’ll figure it out, slowly but surely.

A/N: Utterly feral about them, pumped out a small fic!! I hope y’all enjoy

There’s something exceedingly familiar about Nia’s touch now.

She knows it apart from the rest without looking- the distinction isn’t hard to make. Raine’s is like her- all encompassing, Imtura’s hearty and welcoming, Tyril’s betraying his learned elegance, Mal’s always accompanied with a grin (never to be trusted, Tyril warns), Aerin’s unsure of itself. Nia’s stands out in a category looping into others- a gentleness not learned like Tyril’s, halting as Aerin’s if she breaches whatever imaginary boundary she’d set up. When she relaxes though, Valax feels something different, commanding. Nia’s touch is one of somebody who’s learned what they want, give her enough time and her touch is equally as magnetic as she is.

It’s ridiculous, to spend so much time catalouging such a thing as touch. No need to be familiar with subordinates, reminds her mother’s voice.

Familiarity with friends, she corrects. Something Raine once deemed essential- and she’s not one to skimp on the essentials.

“I hope this isn’t hurting you-” Nia worries, bringing Valax’s attention back to the touch behind the spiral. “It’ll heal without any issues, but it can be rather uncomfortable.”

“Even if so, complaints about pain would be useless” she informs her, tucking her leg slightly. Had they not taught this during her training as a priestess at the temple? She can’t imagine a profession that requires the advice more. Nia’s told her few stories, but she never did need much information to understand things- she knows enough. For a place where others choose to unburden themselves, its workers are surprisingly discouraged from the practice.

The flow of Nia’s shadow doesn’t so much as falter at this, healing the admittedly inconvenient scratch. She can feel the difference in her use of it now- she relishes in the lack of restraint. Familiarity led to comfort- Nia wields what she once deemed the worst of herself as though it’s an old friend. Following this line of thought, her hand wanders, finding Nia’s leg. Not total unrestraint, but a bit of indulgence as she rests her hand.

“Not always” Nia offers, and Valax yet again finds her attention diverted. It’s disconcerting to be near Nia, she’s never sure what to focus on. She often deigns to watch her lips- (she’s not oblivious to why it garners childlike giggles from Raine and Mal, she informs them so one night, but such trivalties are between the two of them)- she can’t deny enjoys the flush of Nia’s cheeks when she realizes she’s been noticed in such a way. “Complaints bring attention to the problem. We don’t do ourselves any favors by repressing things”

Valax’s eyes flick to her lips again.

“Repression, restraint. Coveted traits, to ask my mother. But I suppose that there’s sense in that” she allows, flexing her arm. Perfectly healed. “I’d still be suffering otherwise. Thank you- for the musings and the healing”

Nia’s responding smile is slightly strained as she waves a hand dismissively. “It’s a pleasure to be able to help.”

#playchoices #blades of light and shadow #choices blades of light and shadow #blades of light and shadow 2 #choices blades of light and shadow 2 #choices fanfic #princess valax #nia ellarious

[tumbleinthenet]

"just you."

(cw: pregnancy, light discussion of sasha and milla's traumas)

sasha nein's going to be a father. he's handling it about as well as he can.

"I'm pregnant," Milla says, a private, vulnerable smile gracing her lips, and the axis of Sasha's world abruptly tips about 45 degrees, knocking him right off the surface of the planet and out into orbit.

Or, so he thinks.

In reality, he stands there gaping at her, stood so still she privately suspects he may have gone completely into shock, straight into power saving mode, all circuits are busy, please try again later. Her brows furrow. She knows Sasha better than anyone at this point in his life, and she's never seen him have a reaction this dramatic. Sure, they hadn't been trying, but they'd said if it happened by some mistake or miracle.. well, they more than likely wouldn't say no.

She supposes he wasn't expecting it to happen so soon. ..or at all.

Carefully, telegraphing her movements to him, she slides a gloved hand up to cup his face, stroking along a high cheekbone with her thumb. "Sasha, my darling, come back to me? I'd very much like if we could have a talk about this, once I can reach you from wherever you've squirreled yourself away." She waits for him. She always waits for him. (it's never a burden. Many years ago, he was the one who waited for her.) 

She's not going to prod him through their telepathic link; she'd clamped down on her end beforehand, severing their connection to allow him the privacy of his own thoughts. Admittedly, it's partially for her. She'd prefer not to know if his immediate reaction is negative.

Of course, this means that she doesn't know, cannot know how he's actually feeling. Which is mostly very overwhelmed. Milla is.. they're going to... he's going to be.. Frankly, if he finishes any of those thoughts, he might have to go psiblast the nearest window and hop right out of it. 

..She can't be. Well, she can be, and she is, and it's genuinely a very exciting thought, except for the part where Milla becoming a mother is the first step in the actualization of his greatest fear.

If Milla has a baby, that will make her fallible. She’ll no longer be the woman he met, powerful in her confidence and care. She’ll be vulnerable. His father always spoke of his mother (on those few rare occasions he was willing) as if she’d been completely untouchable, as though she’d made the sun shine and the flowers bloom. If she’d been so wonderful, so capable of anything.. what had been the variable that led to her demise? It had to be him.

He doesn’t want to be the nail in the coffin for another woman he loves.

Milla is already a mother in many ways; she treats every child at Whispering Rock as her own, much the same as she did for the children in the orphanage, a long time ago. There’s also the obvious. Morris. It’s not the same with him. She is his mother in name and in role, but their relationship has always been in a gray area, something between parent and confidante.

So he worries, now, what bearing a biological child will do to her. Many would think it’s foolish, but it’s a superstition he’s carried for as long as he remembers. Mothers are cursed.

He remembers too late he has to actually respond to Milla, that she must be worried sick, thinking he doesn’t want her, doesn’t want them to have a family. He shakes the fog out of his head, and attempts to give her all the attention she deserves.

"..You," Sasha croaks, coming back to himself, and Milla nearly jumps as he seems to remember where he is, what conversation he’s having. "really?"

Her expression softens. There’s nothing she can do now but nod. "I wouldn't have told you if I wasn't sure, baby."

He gives her a headlong, flustered look. She catches a glimpse of how wide his eyes are behind his glasses. "And you're..." He gestures vaguely, prompting her to answer a question he doesn't know how to ask.

"Fine. ..Tired, but I'm healthy." She catches his hand, sliding their fingers together. She very nearly manages to put a smile on his face, which she’ll count as a win. "And happy. Very happy."

His free hand hovers about her, unsure and unwilling to reach out to her. Gently, she guides the questing hand down to her hip. That's safe for both of them, and frankly very hard to miss. "Are you happy?" She asks him, and preps herself for any answer he could give.

"It's incredibly complicated," he responds, and that's not one of the answers she'd been anticipating, but she listens to him without judgment. "I... love you, and I wouldn't turn down an opportunity like this. But I'm inclined to be.. afraid. That something will happen to you. ..it's unavoidable."

After hearing something so sweet, Milla simply can't help herself. She surges forward to kiss him silly.

He squawks in surprise and embarrassment, and she only kisses him harder, willing him to spend just a moment without overthinking. When she pulls away, his entire face is flushed. She likes that she can do that to him.

“You’re such a gentleman,” she coos, and she thinks her cheeks are starting to hurt with the force of her smile, “so kind. So considerate. We’ll do this together, yes? My knight in shining armor will be there to lend an ear if I have concerns?”

“Always,” he says, and his response is so swift that it makes her want to cry. “I’m just worried that I’ll lose you.”

Milla shakes her head, gently nudges his chin so she can kiss him properly on the forehead. “You won’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do. You won’t lose me. I won’t let that happen, darling. Put a bit of faith in me.”

“All of my faith, and everything else. I’ll give you everything you need.”

She kisses him again, bumping their foreheads together. “I already have what I need. Just you.”

#cw pregnancy #psychonauts #psychonauts 2 #sasha nein #milla vodello #sashamilla #a bit of fluff for the people on this day? #this may not make much sense as i wrote much of it at 4 am

[lindszeppelin]

Are you on twitter/x? Either or, being in the fandom are you aware of Pappiaustin (and their burner accounts) + that delusional Amanda girl who constantly says she deserves him more than others/genuinely believes she’ll be with him? They think Austin and Kaia are PR like you but are seriously unhinged about it!! I’m in the camp that their relationship is weird but idk about it it’s PR or not. But I can handle it coming from you bc you use your words and I can appreciate your POV but they’re just lunatics lol. (They do entertain me though, admittedly 🍿) Do you have an opinion of them (if you’re aware of them)?

I have twitter but I don't really post on there. I occasionally skim through it in the morning before I start my day. I am aware of those two accounts. Pappi has started posting about them a little less, and her responses to other topics she comments on is odd. But I am aware of her many burner accounts. Double edged sword there because while she is on point with what she brings up, she goes about presenting the information in such a way that taints the rest of us in the group of "they're PR". It's cringe when she has like idk...5 burner accounts and she responds to herself with them and such and acts like she isn't lol. She should just give up the gun and admit she does it.

That's why you gotta find those in the fandom that resonate with what you believe and present themselves in a way you agree with. There will always be bad apples in a fandom, but it's just a matter of sticking to those that you jive with.

As for Amanda, i'm aware of her as well but I don't want to comment on that because I believe she has said she is mentally challenged. So she's harmless.

#lindsay's anon asks

[mknerd]

“The Text” (Original) [II]

Note: This is a direct continuation of the events in “Seeking Attention”. Please read that first before reading this to not be confused! Enjoy! 🙏🏽💙

What to say, what to say, what to say…

Nearly an hour after meeting Maya, I was back in my apartment and resting on my couch.

Well, trying to, I should say.

In actuality, I couldn’t get my leg to stop shaking. I had the Messages app opened on my phone, but the only touching I was doing on it was anxiously tapping the side of it with my index finger. I could feel my phone nearly slipping out of my grip as a nervous sweat began forming on the surface of my hand.

Texting a girl shouldn’t be this hard…

The line in the message bubble continued to blink and blink, almost as if it were starting to get impatient with me and wanting me to figure out at least one word to type.

“Bathroom time,” I said to myself as I rolled off the couch and walked to the bathroom. After shutting the door behind me, I dropped my sweatpants and briefs to my ankles and sat on the cold surface of my porcelain throne. I held on to my phone, still focusing on the blinking text line.

I wonder if she’s waiting for me to say something. Damn it, Will, why didn’t you give her your number?!

I remained seated on the toilet for a few more minutes, even though admittedly, I didn’t actually have to go at all. Feeling foolish, I pulled my sweatpants and briefs back over my waist and left the bathroom.

I started scratching my head in frustration. Somehow, despite having more than an hour to formulate an idea, I still couldn’t think of what to text. It wasn’t that I was nervous to text Maya; instead, I wanted to be careful not to say anything that could get her to block me before she knew it was me.

Just say it’s you. Tell her it’s you and she’ll know. It’s that simple!

Without thinking, I quickly typed the text into the message bubble:

“Hey, Maya, this is Will from the café!”

Instant regret.

Cool, you texted her like she’s a colleague from work. Great stuff, Will.

Until then, I was not aware that it was possible to receive secondhand embarrassment from oneself. I walked into my bedroom and fell back onto my mattress, my phone bouncing out of my hand and landing next to it. Maya had work, so I wasn’t expecting a response for at least a few hours.

My eyelids shut, darkness taking over my vision.

A vibration reverberated through my mattress.

I quickly grabbed my phone and unlocked it to see a text from Maya:

“Haha, it took you awhile. I thought you died on the way home. 💀🚬”

Believe me, Maya, it felt like I did.

I texted her back:

“Sorry, had things to take care of. Got any plans after work?”

Almost a minute later, she sent a response:

“Well, if you’re not busy, I really wanna grab a bite at that new wing place that opened up a few days ago. 🍗 You down? 👀”

Oh, she’s talking about the Wise Moose Wing Bar near my place, I realized. I had plans to try out the place but never had a reason or a person to go with.

I messaged her back:

“Wise Moose, right? That’s near my place! We can meet there when you’re off.”

Maya responded back:

“Sounds like a plan. I get off at 6 tonight, so I’ll see you there at 7! Leave the cig at home. 🤣☺️”

She’s never gonna let me live that down…

I sent another text:

“I will. 😂 See you at 7!”

And just like that, date secured. Somehow, all my actions had actually led to positive outcomes.

But how long does dumb luck last?

#romance #love story #strong woman #comedy #himbo vibes #original story #funny #romcom #original fiction

[danganronpa-agere-writing]

Baby byakuya with cg Celestia?

Hey anon! I can definitely do that for you :D I actually love their dynamic, and regressor Byakuya with caregiver Celeste is something that I think about a lot, haha! I hope you enjoy this :) Take care!

-Mod Mikan

Regressor Byakuya with Caregiver Celeste headcanons!

•As skillful as Byakuya was at hiding his regression, Celeste was also skillful at her own things

•She was rather perceptive, and it wasn’t hard for her to correlate his occasional behavior to age regression

•Admittedly, Celeste was also confrontational, yet she knew that Byakuya would not talk to her truthfully if she asked him about it

•So, she did her best not to intervene, while also trying to subtly look after him when she was under the impression he was regressed

•For example, she would offer him non-caffeinated tea in the mornings, or point out specific stuffed animals when she noticed them, even going as far once to read a child-like chapter book in front of him, telling him all about the plot and the characters

•It wasn’t long before he was the one to confront her, and he was all too aware that she knew. No other explanation could be provided for her sudden caring behavior

•Celeste did not confirm nor deny that she knew, only responding that it would stay between the two of them and she would be there if he needed her

•And, one night, in which he had slipped particularly far, he showed up at her door, staying with her and allowing himself to be watched over

•So— from then on— Byakuya began to go to Celeste whenever he regressed

•He’s quite the independent regressor, no matter how far he ends up slipping. He won’t usually ask for anything, but... he certainly doesn’t complain when he’s given attention

•Luckily for Byakuya, Celeste has quite the want for expensive tasting foods as well, so she has some options for meals that are to his liking

•Fresher fruits, nice desserts, etc— Celeste has got it!

•Byakuya has a sweet tooth when he’s regressed, so it’s pretty convenient

•Byakuya wouldn’t admit it no matter what, but sometimes he does have Celeste cut up his food for him, even shaping them into cuter things like hearts. The last part is usually just for her liking, though, but he won’t complain

•It’s also quite obvious Celeste would learn to walk on water before getting Byakuya to take a nap— she has to wait for him to go to sleep on his own, laying down beside him on the bed and watching a show that he enjoyed before waiting for him to get tired

•When that does happen, she’ll simply offer him a stuffed animal and murmur a quiet goodnight, only staying on the occasions he’d ask her to

•The two aren’t really all that physically affectionate, however the moments in which Byakuya tries subtly tugging on her sleeve or when he leans close to her when they sit next to each other are ones neither will take for granted

•Byakuya’s still a bit unsure of using childish items, so he typically resorts to chewing on his sleeve when he needs it

•Celeste usually encourages him to wear unprofessional clothing due to that, but also because he deserves to be comfortable when regressing— there’s no need to force himself to wear proper clothing, it’s just her around

•Though... Celeste is all too educated on age regression, and she knows it’s not always peaceful and calm, especially considering that Byakuya does it in order to have a childhood, one that he didn’t get due to growing up so fast

•He’s not one to throw fits, and he’s certainly not one to talk about how he feels, so he’ll usually just bury his face in his pillow, whining and hissing out incoherent complaints as Celeste sits down beside him, gently patting his back and offering him any of his comfort items

•Those exchanges are always fairly quiet, and Byakuya doesn’t want her to bring it up once they’re over, which she’s more than alright with not doing

•So— Celeste is a surprisingly kind and reassuring caregiver, one to keep her cool and try to understand Byakuya as much as she can

•It stills feels weird for Byakuya to be so open about such a vulnerable part of him, so he’s a bit unsure about it, but...

•He’s a composed and independent regressor, yet he’s always happy to have Celeste around

•The two are glad they get to be there for each other!

#age regression #agere writing #agere #danganronpa #danganronpa agere #danganronpa writing #sfw agere #agere sfw #danganronpa age regression #danganronpa age regression writing #sfw #sfw regression #agere imagine #celesgami #celestia ludenberg #celeste ludenberg #byakuya togami #sfw age regression

[kohakhearts]

request: zelos/lloyd + #9: things you said when i was crying.

wc: 1 195

If there is one thing Zelos prides himself on, it is this:

He has not cried since he was a child, not really.

Oh, here and there, some tears, but never anything anyone, least of all himself, could consider crying. He’s just not like that. He takes in sad stories with sympathetic frowns and titters, depending on who’s telling them—the prettiest of girls warrant soft, pitying touches on the shoulder, or maybe even kisses on the cheek—and he looks back on his own past with impassive regret. Even in his worst moment, he’s never had anything to cry over. Not since his mother died. Certainly not since Seles was put under house arrest.

But that’s the issue now. Seles. His horrible, darling sister. Admittedly, seeing her during his travels with Lloyd and Colette and everyone else was harder than he had expected it to be, but that’s in the past, now, and he doesn’t want to think about it, or the circumstances that brought them to the abbey in the first place. After all, it won’t be long until that place is far behind them; Zelos has made sure of that.

He doesn’t really know if Seles will be appreciative of everything, for all she says she is now. The reality is that house arrest in the middle of scenic nowhere is probably far preferable to living with him, in Meltokio. But what other choice is there? She can’t live alone, and, according to her, she doesn’t want to, either.

It gnaws at him. What exactly “it” is, he can’t say so definitively, which is what makes it so awful.

She’ll be here tomorrow, but, today, it is just Zelos—and Lloyd, who insisted on being around for him, for some ridiculous reason or another. Zelos doesn’t know just yet whether or not he’s grateful for the company; right now, at this very moment, he’s leaning towards not.

“Would you stop wringing your hands already?” Lloyd tells him, exasperated. “I thought you told me nothing was wrong.”

“Nothing is wrong.” With some effort, he pulls his hands apart and tightly crosses his arms over his chest. He glances back at Lloyd with a raised eyebrow, though Lloyd does not seem impressed by his solution to the incessant—apparently annoying—hand-wringing. “Are you sure you don’t want a drink?”

“Are you sure you don’t want to sit down?”

Scowling, Zelos turns away from him again.

“I thought you would be excited.”

“What, I don’t seem excited to you?” Zelos snorts. “It’s not really that simple, Lloyd.”

“Yeah, but why not?”

“You wouldn’t get it. Just trust me when I say it’s not.”

“Yeah, well.” Lloyd pauses. And then: “I think you’re just guilty, but what’s there to be guilty over?”

It feels like a blade through his chest. His hands fall to his sides and he lets out a trembling breath, trying—and failing—to get a hold of himself. He should not be surprised by this point that Lloyd can read him so well, but, for some stupid reason, he is.

“Zelos?”

“It’s not that simple,” he says again, hoarsely. “You don’t get it. You can’t.”

For a moment, there is no sound, and then he hears Lloyd stand and cross the room. Just as soon, there is a strong, warm hand on his shoulder, but he steadfastly does not turn around even as the touch pokes and prods at the chest wound already inflicted by his words.

“But I can try,” Lloyd says. “You just have to talk to me.”

Zelos blinks furiously, but it does little to steel his resolve. To his horror, the vague stinging in his eyes—which has been there all day, maybe even longer—becomes all at once unbearable, and then he is crying, and unsure how to make it stop, if he even wants to.

Apparently, Lloyd was not expecting this, either. His grip tightens. “What’s wrong?”

Zelos opens his mouth to respond, but snaps it shut again when all that threatens to escape is a childish sob. He does not know what’s wrong, not in so many words, but he thinks it is Lloyd’s fault, and not just for being here now.

“Can I do something?”

Zelos shakes his head. He takes a few seconds to catch his breath, and then lifts a hand to wipe at his eyes (a mostly pointless endeavour) before turning and facing Lloyd.

Lloyd seems to hesitate for a moment, and then he asks, “…Are you sure?”

Zelos turns his gaze to the ceiling, so he won’t have to see Lloyd’s reaction as he chokes out, “You could—leave.”

“What?!”

A couple gulping breaths, before he manages, “I never felt guilty like this before I met you.”

“What do you—?”

“Never felt much of…anything ‘til I met you,” Zelos mutters, squeezing his eyes shut. His chest heaves, but his tears seem to have mostly subsided. For now, at least. “That was kinda the whole point.”

“But…” Lloyd pauses, as if struggling for the words. A testament to the truth of his words, Zelos still cannot bear to look at him, for fear of what he might see if he does.

Finally, Lloyd’s hand drops from his shoulder, and instead seizes his wrist. He draws Zelos’s hand up and holds it between both of his own.

“Not feeling things doesn’t make them go away,” he says firmly. “It just makes them harder to deal with once you finally do have to feel them.”

Zelos takes in a deep, shuddering breath, and, at last, opens his eyes. Drops his head.

Lloyd isn’t angry, or even anything like it. Not at Zelos, anyway. The look in his eyes now reminds Zelos a bit of how he had been after they had discovered Colette’s toxicosis—a determination born of love. Commitment. He is here now not to make Zelos confront his guilt, but to be there when he inevitably has to.

“And the only way to make them better,” Lloyd goes on, “is to feel them. And talk about them. I think Seles will understand that. Don’t you?”

Zelos’s fingers twitch in his hold. Suddenly, he almost wants to laugh. He brings his free hand up and wipes at his face again, to more success this time.

“You’re a fuckin’ idiot,” he mutters.

“Am I?”

“Yeah.” He chuckles, lightly; it is not an entirely mirthful sound, which hurts his chest a bit. “That’s what makes it so annoying when you’re right about something.”

A beat passes, where Lloyd just stares at him, and then he laughs too. He says, “Yeah, okay. Come sit down, then.”

This time, Zelos lets him lead him back to the table. He is not wringing his hands when he sits, not even after Lloyd lets go of him. Though Lloyd doesn’t push him to talk—just sits there, constant and steady and himself—he knows that this is far from the end of this conversation. Just the beginning of it, really.

But the ache in his chest is different, now. He finds, despite everything, he is not dreading the rest of it quite so much as he was.

#zelloyd #tales of #symphonia #*fic #*reqs #2022 and i am still self-projecting on zelos wilder apparently

[sebastianshaw]

Telling a friend about Monsoon/Aloba in Discord today and thought I’d post it here in case people are wondering who the fuck I’m always talking about Shaw thirsting over ok so Monsoon aka Aloba Dastoor is Haven's devoted brother He's huge and beefy and beautiful and controls the weather like Storm He's introduced when X-Factor is coming to Haven's base and he asks them to lay down their weapons first Which, considering they have mutant powers anyway, is not a big ask. And like, he's a "bad guy" and not even attacking them Aaaand Random opens fire on him Monsoon is ok but understandably pissed, is about to fight back, when Haven intercedes. She apologizes for her brother, having misunderstood the situation because she only saw Monsoon about to start shit, and says he was supposed to guide them to her, not initiate conflict, and to forgive him because his heart is good even if his temper is bad to X-Factor's credit, they admit that their guy started it Like the super violent dastardly villain she is, Haven proceeds to -checks notes- Lead her enemies in and peacefully explain her plans and motives to him, which, while said plans and motives are pretty fucked up, do come from actual Hindu philosophy and not "New Age" shit that the heroes call it while poking fun at her decor and beliefs They continue to be snarky and belittling to downright AGGRESSIVE at her, and while she doesn't retaliate, Monsoon gets pissed and is gonna throw down with Havok on her behalf Once again, Haven intercedes Such a villain, stopping her powerful brother from beating up people who are really fucking rude to her about things she holds incredibly dear and true Anyway, Haven does some more terribly villainous things---like, when Wolfsbane leaps at Val Cooper to tear out her throat, Haven saves Val, and then Rahne wants to tear out Haven's throat too, calling her a witch. Haven responds by healing Rahne of the Genoshan slave bonding process that linked her mind to Havok and made her subservient to him, giving Rahne her free will back. She's so fucking evil Anyway, X-Factor continues to attack Haven and refuse to understand her (again, admittedly Really Fucked Up) plans and worldview, and Haven is finally forced to attack! Oh no wait, she just puts them in her pocket dimension for a time out, and talks with them quite sympathetically about their problems, having zeroed in all their personal issues pretty quickly. It's not in a taunting villain way, she genuinely seems sympathtic to their issues and to share their pain, but she does admittedly threaten if they keep standing in her way she'll use her understanding of them against them. She never actually does, btw. But in the meantime, she then puts them in a holding cell, which, ok, that is villainous, but if people kept trying to attack me and interfere with my plans to "save" the world, I would do the same. I hope I'd be that nice anyway. And who frees them but---Monsoon! He's a double agent working with Val Cooper! He says he idolizes his sister but this is madness and needs to stop. In the resultant battle---which Haven gives up to heal another member of X-Factor who is dying from a deadly disease, though she fails, but I just love she literally surrenders a fight to HELP AN OPPONENT IN NEED---Monsoon's betrayal is revealed. Devastated, Haven proclaims she has no brother. We never see Monsoon again, and Haven is left alone crying in the rain over his loss and the X-Factor member she couldn't save. Flashbacks of Haven and Monsoon show her as a young teen when he's a baby. She also mentions getting her inheritance at 18. My guess is her parents passed away when he was quite small and she probably more or less raised him, which is likely part of why he idolized her and went along with her mad schemes for so long. He also didn't know why she was doing this, he seemed to just think she'd gone crazy and had taken a long time to accept it/do something to stop her, which, understandable. Since he was also a mutant, my guess is he assumed her incredible power came from being one too, as she also never told anyone she was pregnant, not even him.And it's just so sad to me that he never found out the truth, never found out that his sister WASN'T crazy and this WASN'T her fault and she WASN'T herself when she disowned him, and that she never got to explain and apologize and make up to him, it's just so TRAGIC to me and I HATE IT ;-; so in my hc world they did reunite and Monsoon is more devoted than ever bc he feels guilt about never realizing what was wrong (even tho there's no reasonable way he could have) and Haven feels guilt over this and wants him to live his own life and not just think about her dfgsdjf

#out of shirt

[coldvampire]

nsfw alphabet -- amber mitchell

once again, just doing this because i can lmao. kat's is here.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Slightly awkward, but Mitchell takes instruction well. She wants to care for her partner when they’re done, but doesn’t really know the best approach to it unless she’s told directly. Left to her own devices, she’s going to clean up and initiate some sort of skin to skin contact, though that varies based on how touched-out she might be feeling after. If she’s too wound up from all the touching, then she’ll at least be in the room with them and talk about everything & nothing until they’re ready to sleep. And if she’s not too up to talking, she’s going to throw a movie on for background noise while they snuggle back into bed. 

Oh, and she’s going to change the sheets too, no matter what. Mid-act, she’s fine with whatever fluids get spilled, but after? Changing the bedsheets is literally the first order of business, and she can’t relax until that’s done. 

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Mitchell likes her hands. She’s got fairly elegant hands with relatively long fingers, and she’s pretty damn clever with them if she wants to be. She also likes the contrast between the scarred skin on her wrists and the almost flawless skin on the back of her hands & palms. 

In her partners, Mitchell enjoys contrast. She’s a thin, bony figure without any real heft to her and stands on the short side of average at 5″4. She’s immensely curious about anyone who doesn’t fit a similar description. 

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Does not care about it. Like, at all. It’s a part of sex, but it does nothing for her personally. She doesn’t really like to swallow if she has the option, though, largely because it’s not blood and therefore doesn’t really agree with her body. 

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Not so much a secret as it is unexpected, but Mitchell is very fond of pulling out a video camera for the evening. She likes to the the scene first, to the point where making the room nice is almost a form of foreplay. She never intended to share the videos, exactly, but if it’s a particularly good one and no one’s face is in the frame, then why not? She prefers actual VHS recordings to digital ones, but she’s flexible in that regard. When she watches them back, it’s almost an out-of-body experience. She’s fascinated by how she looks and moves when she’s truly lost in a haze of desire and pleasure, and it’s kind of a self-esteem boost too. Her collection is pretty impressive, and admittedly most co-star Beckett (with an occasional guest appearance from Anatole). She won’t bring it up with a partner if she thinks they wouldn’t be comfortable, though, and she would never record without full consent.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Pre-embrace, Mitchell only had three sexual partners, and none were particularly adventurous. She’s more open to encounters these nights for sure, once she realized that sex could be something beyond a way to pass the time. Proposition her if she considers you a friend, and she’ll likely respond quite favourably.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Mitchell definitely enjoys being perched on a table or countertop while her partner stands. Up against the wall is pretty okay too, but it can get precarious so it’s only an option if she’s sure she won’t be dropped. She’s pretty partial to doggy too.

If her partner knows what they’re doing and knows how to make something feel good, Mitchell is pretty down for just about anything. She’s also certain that she still has plenty left to learn in the bedroom, and enjoys expanding her knowledge via hands-on experiences.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

She’s all across the map and doesn’t really care as long as everyone is enjoying themselves. If she’s trying something new though, she’s usually more focused and serious. Same goes if she’s playing a particular role that requires that type of energy.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

She’s pretty hair-free (blame the pre-death malnourishment, honestly). There’s a small amount of dark brown hair between her legs that’s kept neat and trimmed up. She does appear to have a bit of a preference for more hairy partners, perhaps subconsciously.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Again, this varies. She’s in open relationships with multiple people, and is good at reading the room individually. Sometimes she’s quite adoring, holding hands and wanting close contact. Other times she’s more detached and borderline clinical, clearly interested in what she’s doing but in a way that feels distinctly more removed and perhaps even self serving.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Mitchell is actually on the asexual spectrum and operates on a system of reciprocal desire most of the time, so she really doesn’t need to take care of herself all that much. She might if she’s feeling bored. She can’t even say she finds phone or video chat sex super hot because it’s missing the physical aspect of being pleasured by another person. Mutual masturbation in the same room is a different story.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

I’m not sure if recording falls under voyeurism or what, but it’s definitely I felt up there. Body worship but without calling it that. She doesn’t really care for how she looks. At best, she feels neutral about herself. At worst, she thinks she’s ruined her own body over time and there’s nothing to enjoy about it. So I think knowing she’s physically desired would be important to Mitchell.

She’s had some group sex too that she wouldn’t mind doing again. Come to think of it, Mitchell has a pretty active sex life and it’s definitely filled with a variety of experiences, but she doesn’t have an excess of kinks herself.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

She’s pretty basic (bedroom, haven, etc) but it doesn’t take much to convince her to do it in her van. There’s more than enough room to manoeuvre and there’s no need to find privacy if she’s out and about because she travels with it. She also likes hotel rooms; it gives her the feeling of being transient and that’s a little exciting.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Responsive desire. Rarely will Mitchell initiate anything sexually. If she does, it was probably just an unintended consequence of seeking out physical closeness. So it’s up to her partner to make their wants known and get the ball rolling. Once she’s aware of it and has been properly warmed up is when she starts to really lean into the attraction. Another way of saying this might be to call it an attraction to blunt honesty—just tell her what you want and how you want her to do it. She’s pretty damn pleased with how well she can take instruction.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Not into the usual grouping of ‘extreme’ kinks, and she admittedly finds role play to be too awkward to actually get into. She’s a switch and her reactions to stimuli can change based on that, but she doesn’t want to play as anyone aside from herself.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

So fun fact: Mitchell never actually received oral before she started seeing Beckett. She’d given a few unenthusiastic blowjobs, but that was it. She trusts him, so it didn’t take much to get her to lie down for the first time, and it truly was a life altering event. He’s unintentionally created a monster; receiving is probably one of Mitchell’s favourite activities to engage in now. She doesn’t even really care if she’s sitting on the furniture or her partner’s face for it, she’s just eager to be pleasured.

Giving is something she’s significantly less excited about. Her feelings are pretty lukewarm on it. She doesn’t appreciate anything that makes her gag, and she isn’t super fond of having things touch her face. She’ll happily do it if her partner wants, but it’s not typically something she’s overly excited for. She’ll get the job done, but it probably won’t be the best oral her partner has experienced.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

I fused these categories together since her reasons are pretty well the same.

Mitchell tends to want to take her time on things and doesn’t like the idea of quickies necessitated by risk of being caught. It’s mostly because she’s not the type of person who engages in sexual activities unprompted or without some encouragement, and short sessions don’t allow her to make the proper mental/physical shift for it.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Definitely. She’s infinitely curious about new and undiscovered physical sensations so if you ever wanted someone open to damn near anything, it’s Mitchell. That said, if she already knows she’s not into something, there’s no convincing her to give it another go. She’s pretty sure of her opinions.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

She's undead, so theoretically she can go one for a while. But I actually think Mitchell prefers a longer, single session rather than multiple short bursts. Mostly just because it's easier for her to keep riding her peak rather than trying to repeatedly climb the high.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Mitchell is open to toys, but again, it's an effort thing. Not in a way where she can't be bothered, but it's more like she just won't think to use them unless prompted. She's absolutely down if a partner brings it up, though.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Oh, she's got a tendency towards this. Her teasing comes from a more falsified innocent energy. She'll explore her partner and their reactions with a certain intense curiosity, acting like it's all an experiment for her. It's not really sultry, which weirdly helps with the appeal of it. But she's forceful about it, it's not an act of weakness. Insistent fingers and probing looks, etc etc etc. If she's taking a more submissive role, she's very pliant and keeps up that exploratory nature but from a receptive side. 'What happens if you do it like this?'

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

She doesn't get as loud as Kat can, but she doesn't start out trying to be nearly as quiet either. She's relatively vocal and doesn't see the need to try and mitigate that most of the time, and most of it is usually pretty coherent too.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Extremely down for group sex so long as she's at least friendly with the parties involved. She's poly in a way that's pretty casual, so it's happened before with partners of partners. Even if she's only engaging directly with the people she's officially seeing, it's still a good time with third parties. She's definitely teamed up with Anatole in the past to lovingly torture Beckett. Those two haven't had sex before, but they've absolutely high-fived in the middle of a threeway.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Scrawny thing. Mitchell doesn't have a lot of meat on her whatsoever, so anyone she sleeps with had better be prepared for sharp angles. She stands at 5"4 and looks average with her clothes on, but there's something about her that looks fragile when she strips. She's got quite a few self-inflicted scars on her arms and upper thighs, though they weren't fresh at the time of her embrace. She's ambivalent about them and would answer someone honestly if they asked, so again, that's something her partner has to be relaxed about.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Sort of mentioned above, but low unless something actually prompts it. But if she likes you, this isn't a difficult thing to do. She's got time and you're feeling it? She's good to go.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Depends. Usually she just wants to get cleaned up afterwards and move onto a new activity.

#vampire the masquerade #oc tag #amber mitchell

[minarcana]

Laurel hops on a chair in the Waking Sands, sitting sideways. "Uri, do you know how to braid hair?"

She’s interrupted him in the middle of what he claims to be breakfast (and which she claims is first off too small and second off, far too late in the morning for such a title), and he simply regards her owlishly for a good couple seconds before putting down the cup of tea and responding. "Wherefore is it me thou asketh?"

Laurel gives him a clearly puzzled look. “Uh. Here?”

She misunderstands. “Ah, nay. Hm.” What’s the word. Something... they’re all wh- words, and it never comes to mind.... Settle for an equivalent, then. “For what reason is it me?”

“Oh!” She has no idea why he had to phrase it like that in the first place, but now she’s got it. “Because you’re here.”

“I know not how.”

He’s not escaping that easily, especially now since Laurel’s made up her mind. “Then I’ll show you.” She’s perfectly pleased with this, and sets about doing exactly as promised. Urianger, recognizing that all fights with Laurel wanting to her her way are losing fights, settles for paying attention. One never knows when new knowledge will be useful, after all.

She shows him how to braid with a section of her own hair, pulled over her shoulder seemingly at random. She also doesn’t really give a good answer when he asks why it has to be him when she’s clearly perfectly capable. Ah well.

Laurel directs him simply once she’s satisfied he understands the admittedly very straightforward task. Urianger is to create a braid from each side of her crown, long enough to meet at the back of her head.

They’re not the neatest of braid. Laurel can feel unfamiliarity in his hands, and he’s a little prone to tugging either too much or not enough, but she doesn’t mind. “The young woman guarding the entrance would likely do a better job.”

Probably, but Laurel’s already friends with her. That’s not the point. "Mm. I waited for you to get up before I left so you’d do it."

"Thine argument is not sensible, warrior of light."

"Maybe not. Hey, Uri. Are you ever lonely?" She's seen him in the same corner for too long, always lost in thought until she approaches. There are only rarely others in the room with him. The way he speaks often of what isn't or what might, rather than is. It's lonely.

Urianger's fingers pause for a moment, before she feels him pick the braid back up. "Nay," he says afterwards. Laurel can tell he fully believes the statement. She doesn't, though, and has a sneaking feeling he believes it because he hasn't thought about it. Well... perhaps she's just being nosy.

Perhaps she's projecting, too, but it can't be anything other than lonely to be thinking only of ghosts. "That's good," she says, and lapses into quiet as Urianger continues braiding. Neither of them speak until Urianger voices a question as to what he should do once he's braided the side strands of her hair.

Laurel directs him lightly. This time, she'll settle with combining them into a single larger braid... she gets the feeling a neat bun would be beyond Urianger's capability, and the act of tying a good two feet of hair will occupy him long enough for her to figure out how to politely say what she wants.

He's close to the end of Laurel's hair when she figures it out. "So, I hate doing my own hair. My siblings always did it when we lived together, so doing it by myself when I don't have to makes me lonely. I only let family do my hair, though."

"But I am not—"

"And by that rule," Laurel holds up a finger, angled backwards towards Urianger, "the reverse is true, if I let you do my hair you're my family." She leans back now so she can look at Urianger, her red eyes just barely managing to fix upon him. "That means if you ever need things or want to say hello, you're allowed to call on me. I have a linkpearl. Thou haseth my number."

"Hath," he says, for lack of any other immediate response. Embarrassing...

Laurel laughs, bright and unabashed. "Arse. Now tie your braid off."

#mun writes #drabble : laurel #drabble : urianger #THE THING IS THAT I THINK TH #i was reminded of this due to other things but the they

[bisexualbumblebee-writes]

Storyteller- Nymphadora Tonks x OC

Nymphadora Tonks x Ophelia Teagarden

Description: Nymphadora is the infamous Hufflepuff storyteller. One night Charlie brings Ophelia along to the Hufflepuff common room to hear Tonks’s story and it’s much more than she expected of it. 

Word Count: 1.2k

“Come on Charlie, I just want to go to bed. I’m tired,” Ophelia groaned, trying to pull her arm away from her friend. Charlie pouted and tugged on her wrist again. 

“But Ophi,” he whined. Ophelia looked at Bill, who sat on the couch in front of the fireplace beside them reading a book. 

“Can I get a little help here?” She asked, using her free hand to gesture to the younger Weasley. Bill glanced at her and smiled amusedly before looking down at his book. 

“Nope. You’re on your own,” he responded. Opehlia groaned and Charlie took the chance to squeeze her wrist again. 

“C’mon, just go with me tonight and I won’t ask you to go ever again. I don’t want to go on my own,” he attempted to compromise. The girl sighed frustratedly, looking at the time before facing him again. 

“Fine, just this once. But you’re doing my Charms homework tomorrow,” she said, giving him a pointed look. Charlie didn’t seem deterred by her words because he lit up. 

“Deal! Let’s go, she’ll be starting soon,” he said, practically dragging her out of the Gryffindor common room. Bill only gave her an amused wave before the portrait hole closed. 

“So remind me again why we’re sneaking out?” Ophelia asked as she allowed the boy to lead her to the dungeon. 

“Remember that girl Nymphadora that I introduced you to last week?” He asked. The girl nodded with a half shrug. 

“She tells these fascinating muggle stories called fairy tales every week. Let me tell you right now that those alone are worth sneaking out for,” he explained. Ophelia seriously doubted his words, but she wouldn’t say anything. All she had to do was sit through the (admittedly pretty) girl’s story then she could go to bed. 

They reached the Hufflepuff entrance after making a quick stop in the kitchen to grab some cookies. Charlie had done the password which opened the door almost immediately. The Hufflepuff common room was fairly packed with Hufflepuff students as well as students from different houses. It surprised Ophelia at first, but she quickly got over it as her friend began leading her through the small crowd.

“Dora,” Charlie called as they reached the periwinkle haired girl. Nymphadora turned around and smiled, greeting him with a hug. 

“Hey Charlie. Brought a new friend, I see,” she spoke, looking at Ophelia. “Ophelia, right? We have Potions together if I remember correctly.” The girl smiled and nodded, giving Tonks a small smile. 

“Ophelia Teagarden,” she reintroduced herself. “And yes, we have Potions and Charms together,” she added, hoping that she didn’t sound creepy for remembering all the classes they had together. Tonks didn’t seem to notice though as she took Ophelia’s hand and shook it. 

“Oh yeah, I remember that. You’re the one who told me that my jacket was tucked into my pocket so I wouldn’t be embarrassed,” she recalled. Ophelia nodded as the memory came back to her. She remembered how grateful Tonks had been. 

“So, I see Charlie has dragged you to my little storytime,” she continued. The girl nodded in response and nudged Charlie playfully. 

“Yep, he was very insistent on me coming. I thought he was about to throw a hissy fit until I agreed” she responded with a giggle. Tonks laughed as well. 

“Yeah, he’s always whiny until he gets his way.” The girls shared an amused smile while Charlie pouted playfully. 

“Hey, I came here to hear a story, not be bullied,” he muttered childishly. Tonks rolled her eyes jokingly then nodded. 

“Okay okay, take a seat then. Ophelia since you’re new you can sit by me on the couch,” she said, leading the girl to sit down on said couch while Charlie took a seat in front of her. Ophelia tried not to blush when Tonks’s hand went to the middle of her back. 

“Alright, settle down everyone,” she called, catching everyone’s attention as she took a seat in the middle of the couch. “Tonight I’ll be telling you the story of Vasilisa the Beautiful.” The crowd of students seemed to grow excited, which made Ophelia smile. She had a great feeling about this. 

So there she sat, listening to Tonks’s story with so much fascination it was almost funny. She was never told many stories as a child, let alone muggle ones like fairy tales. That made her interest much more endearing to Tonks and so she made sure to put her all into her story. She would change her face into the different animals and use different voices for each character. Tonks couldn’t help but smile internally when Ophelia laughed at her efforts. 

“Wow,” Ophelia started once the girl beside her finished the story. “Muggle stories are much more fascinating than wizard nes.” The others couldn’t help but chuckle at the amazement in her eyes. 

“Yeah, I’m lucky I get to share them with you all,” Tonks responded with a small, fond smile before looking around. “Now all of you get to bed, we have classes in the morning,” she added in a motherly tone. Everyone obeyed and stood, either walking to their rooms or heading back to their own common room. Ophelia and Tonks stood at the same time. 

“That really was a wonderful story,” Ophelia stated. “If that’s what they’re like all the time, I’ll be coming back next week.” Tonks tried to hide her excitement and simply nodded with a kind smile. 

“That’s great to hear. I’ll let you sit next to me again then,” she responded. “And maybe let me take you out to Hogsmeade before?” She asked, sounding hopeful. Ophelia couldn’t stop the blush that appeared on her face. 

“I’d like that a lot,” she responded shyly. This time, Tonks didn’t try to hide the excitement in her features. 

“Great!” She paused to compose herself. “I mean great. I’ll pick you up from your common room at one o’clock?” Ophelia nodded quickly. 

“Yeah, I’ll see you then.” Tonks nodded at her words and began walking upstairs.

“Hey Nymphadora,” she called. Everyone in the room went quiet. Those who were close to the girl knew how much she hated being called by her full first name, and she usually brought hell on who did. Charlie called Ophelia’s name softly but firmly, but he couldn’t be mad at her. She didn’t know about Tonks’s hatred. So, everyone watched with bated breath as Tonks turned to the oblivious girl. 

“Yeah?” She asked softly, surprising everyone. Ophelia blushed and smiled. 

“See you next week?” She questioned hopefully. Tonks nodded immediately and smiled brightfully. 

“Yeah, see you then. Oh, and one more thing,” she paused as she walked over to the girl, stopping just a few inches away from her. 

“Please don’t call my Nymphadora, I don’t really like my full name. Just Dora is fine,” she finished in the same tone. Ophelia nodded and blushed yet again at the lack of distance between them. Tonks smiled in satisfaction and stepped back. 

“Goodnight Ophelia,” she spoke, leaning in to kiss her cheek. 

“Goodnight Dora, sleep well,” Ophelia responded before following Charlie out. 

“Oh Merlin,” Charlie laughed. “I knew Dora liked you, but she is so whipped!” Ophelia tried not to blush at his words. 

“Don’t be daft Char, she’s not whipped,” she denied. Charlie smiled but didn’t say anything. He knew that she was just as whipped as Tonks was.

#harry potter #harry potter imagine #nymphadora tonks #tonks imagine #tonks x oc

[lxvislxdy]

Shotgun Kisses pt.2 | Bakugou K.

Links: Bakugou x stoner!reader au & Shotgun Kisses (Read these first!!)

Notes: Firstly, I want to thank you all for the positive feedback my work has been receiving! I’m extremely thankful for ya’ll!! I also want to apologize for the delay in my posting; I’ve been traveling this week, and on top of that, dealing with the gas shortage on the east coast (it’s been HELL). But hopefully things will start picking up again soon! As always, my requests are open, so feel free to send in your requests or questions!

Summary: After apologizing to you, Bakugou is still struggling to get over his mistrust of your coworker, Shinsou. When you invite Shinsou to hang with everyone, Bakugou thinks it will be his final straw. That is, until Shinsou makes a move on someone unexpected. And suddenly, everything makes much more sense, and Bakugou looks completely oblivious. 

Pairing: Bakugou x reader

Warning(s): 18+!! drug use, language (if you are underage, this fic is not for you!)

Bakugou was trying. 

He really, really was. 

He trusted you, and he hated fighting with you (especially when it was his fault, and he had to apologize), but damnit, that purple haired bastard wasn’t making it easy on him. Still, Bakugou was making an effort, and that meant he was visiting you at work, even though Shinsou was there, too. 

“Hello,” Shinsou drawled, a lazy, but definitely teasing, grin spread across his lips. He was leaned up against the counter, half of his purple hair tied back in a knot at the back of his head. “How can I help you?”

Bakugou narrowed his eyes, taking a deep breath in like Kirishima had taught him. His hands were wound into fists, shoved into his jacket pockets. “Just my regular.”

Shinsou hummed in response, turning to shout over his shoulder, “Y/n! Your loverboy is here!”

Bakugou grit his teeth, willing himself not to snap back at him. Technically, he wasn’t wrong. But he hated the teasing lilt to the other man’s voice. 

As per usual, his anger melted away - mostly - when you popped your head around the corner, from the storage room, smiling brightly. “’Suki!”

As much as Bakugou hated your job, you did look cute in your apron, and he was admittedly fond of the free coffee. 

You bounced over to him, definitely hyped up on too much caffeine, and wrapped your arms around him. “Hi.” You said, looking up at him. 

He squeezed you against him, pulling you in for a kiss, to your surprise. Normally, Bakugou was hesitant when it came to PDA. Of course, the cafe was almost empty, and it wasn’t much of a secret that Bakugou was turning up the heat in front of Shinsou. 

“You want your usual?” You ask sweetly, when he pulls away, dopey grin on your face. 

Shinsou, who had slipped away during the kiss, calls over his shoulder, “Already on it!”

“Try not to spit in it.” Bakugou says, lowly. 

Shinsou lets out a low chuckle, “I’ll try to contain myself.”

Apparently, this banter is friendly enough, because you laugh along with him. 

“You mind if I take my break now, ‘Toshi?”

Bakugou swallows down the burst of jealousy at the nickname, fists tightening in his pocket. 

“Yeah, no problem,” Shinsou tells you, as he sets the coffee down on the counter. “There you go. One coffee, hazelnut cream, no sugar. Extra bitter, just like you.”

Bakugou sneers at him, snatching the coffee from the counter and grabbing your hand to pull you along behind him. The two of you end up in the alleyway behind the shop, sneaking through the ‘employees only’ door. Bakugou sips the coffee, wishing it wasn’t so good. But damn, if Shinsou didn’t know his coffee. As far as Bakugou was concerned, that was the only thing the guy was good at. (Of course, he didn’t really know him that well, at all).

“You’re very broody today.” You say softly, looking over at him from where you leaned against the brick wall. “Something on your mind?”

Bakugou rolls his eyes, sipping his coffee again. “M’fine. Just... tired, that’s all.”

You hum, fumbling with one of your bracelets. You gaze up at him, grinning, “Do I need to call Kirishima to get it out of you?”

“Tch,” He scoffed, marching over to where you stood and leaning down over you. “Smartass.”

He leans down, capturing your lips in a soft kiss. You both taste like coffee, and Bakugou recognizes the faint, bitter taste of marijuana on your tongue too. He pulls away, raising a brow. 

“What, rolling up before work, you delinquent?”

You giggled, shoving his shoulder playfully, though it’s not enough to move him away from you. “Maybe. Gonna rat me out?”

“Hm,” His lips barely brush against yours, bumping his nose against yours. “I’m sure you could convince me not to.”

“Yeah? That easy, hm?” You say, leaning forward to kiss him again, but he pulls just out of your reach. You pout, and he laughs lowly. 

“I never said it would be easy.” He answers, smirking. 

You feel your breath hitch again, and his lips are back on yours. 

“Mm, Kats, love you, but I need to get back to work.” You mumble in between kisses.

Bakugou nips your bottom lip, but concedes, pulling away with a sigh. “Sure I can’t keep you occupied just a little while longer?”

“And people say I’m the bad influence.” You tease, laughing. “Sorry, babe. Can’t. Besides, I know you’re supposed to be getting lunch with the guys, and I’m not gonna be responsible for making you late.”

“Screw ‘em.” He says, planting another kiss on the corner of your mouth. 

You smile up at him, shaking your head. “What am I gonna do with you, Bakgou Katsuki?”

“Keep me, I hope.”

He’d meant it as a joke, but it came out much more serious than he’d meant. Thankfully, you don’t press him on it.

“Yeah, and what’s in it for me?” You tease, poking his stomach. You stretch up on your tiptoes to place another kiss on his jaw, voice softer than before, “I’m here till you don’t want me, Katsuki.”

Bakugou kisses the top of your head, “That’ll never happen.”

You turn to go back inside, stopping in the doorway to look back at him. “You coming to Sero and Denki’s tonight?”

“We’ll see.” Bakugou grunts.

“Mhm,” You grin. “I’ll see you there, then. Bye, Kats!”

...

By the time Bakugou shows up, he’s the last one there. Even Jirou, infamous for showing up fashionably late to their hangouts, was already inside, sitting with you and Mina on the floor. The three of you were deep in conversation, clearly already more than buzzed - your giggles and half-lidded eyes gave you away.

Bakugou felt the tug of a smile on his lips, watching you. He was glad the day was over. Finally, he could just relax.

And thats when he saw him.

Shinsou Hitoshi was sitting on the couch, leaning over a wide-eyed Denki to get the lighter off the table. 

Bakugou tried. He was trying. But even still, his hands shook with anger. 

Kirishima met his gaze, shaking his head, and he didn’t have to speak out loud for Bakugou to hear his usual, ‘Breathe, man. Everything’s fine. Deep breaths. It’s not worth it.’

“Bakugou!” Mina shrieked, “You made it! I told you he’d be here, Sero, you owe me $5!”

Bakugou scowled. “You bet against me?”

Sero shrugs sheepishly. 

You grin up at him from your spot by the girls, and Bakugou quickly crossed the room to sit by your side, ignoring the intruder on the couch. As he took a seat, he pulled you close to lean against his shoulder, and you instinctively reached for his hand without stopping your conversation.

“C’mon, Jirou, you should invite Yoamomo next time!” You were saying, “How will you ever get to know her if you don’t talk to her?”

Jirou, uncharacteristically flustered, shook her head. “No way. Absolutely not. Momo doesn’t seem the type to... ya know, any of this. We aren’t really her crowd.”

“So? She likes you doesn’t she?” Mina offers, puffing smoke.

Jirou’s cheeks turn a brighter shade of pink, and she slouches down more. “I dunno... Pass it here, Min.”

“I’m sure we could behave ourselves enough for a night.” You tease, grinning, “We could have a movie night! Totally sober, if that’s what you’re worried about, Kyo.”

A loud groan cuts into their conversation, from across the room, “Yeah, speak for yourself.” Denki says.

“As if you could get through a movie night totally sober, y/n.” Sero snickers. 

“Hey!” You shout back, sticking your tongue out at him. 

“He might have a point, man,” Shinsou cuts in. He’d been so quiet, Bakugou had almost forgotten he was there. Of course, his luck ran out. “Y/n can’t even make it through a shift sober.”

The room erupts into laughter, though Bakugou stays quiet, rolling his eyes. 

“Not true!” You say, blushing as you lower your voice, “You weren’t supposed to know about that.”

Shinsou’s laugh is apparently contagious, as he says, “Are you kidding?!” He breaks into an eerily accurate impression of you, “Hey, man, what can I get for ya? Aw, totally, nice choice! Have you tried the muffins, man, they’re sooo good.”

You burry your head in your hands as everyone joins in on the joke, leaning back into Bakugou to hide. “Fuck you, dude! Fuck you!”

“Holy shit!” Denki and Sero are gasping for breath, “How are you so good at that, man?” 

Shinsou grins slyly, reminding Bakugou of the cheshire cat (another reason he doesn’t trust the asshole). “Hey, a man can’t give away all his secrets, huh?”

Bakugou tightens his hold around your waist, mouth downturned into an unhappy scowl. 

“I think a movie night would be nice,” Kirishima changes the subject, and Bakugou sends him a small smile in thanks. “I’m sure we’d all like to meet Momo, and if she’s as sweet as you say she is, she’ll totally go for it!”

“Yeah,” Mina says, wrapping an arm lazily around Jirou, “Besides, you’re a total catch, babe! She’ll love you!”

“Thanks guys,” Jirou responds quietly, passing the joint to you. “I’ll think about it.”

You take a few drags, offering to Bakugou, who shakes his head. You don’t push it, blowing the smoke away from the two of you. 

“Man, and here I was, thinking you might finally relax some, Bakugou.” Shinsou comments.

Across the room, Denki has slouched against the other man’s shoulder, his feet propped up in Sero’s lap. 

“The fuck did you say?” Bakugou snaps, glaring. 

Shinsou chuckles, “Relax, dude, I’m kidding.”

“Yeah?” Bakugou growls, snatching the joint from between your fingers. “Fucking whatever.”

He takes a long drag, face red as he resists the urge to cough out of spite. Shinsou raises a brow, mouth twitching into a smirk. His fingers are in Denki’s hair, scratching lightly at his head, and the blonde looks like he could fall asleep any minute, a sleepy smile on his face. Bakugou feels an odd surge of jealousy, and frustration. These are his friends. You’re his girl. What the fuck is this guy playing at?

As Bakugou goes quiet, eyebrows furrowed and face drawn into a fierce scowl, and shoot Shinsou a look. He sighs, rolling his eyes, but silently agrees to lay off. 

“You okay?” You ask, leaning back and placing a light kiss on Bakugou’s jaw.

He yanks you into his lap with a huff, pouting. 

It takes everything in you not to giggle at him when he’s like this (it’s cute, okay?) but you knew that would only irritate him more. 

“’Suki.” You coo, quiet so no one else can hear you, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He mutters, frown deepening. 

“But-”

“I said it’s nothing, y/n.”

You sigh, giving up and leaning back against his chest. Why did he have to be so stubborn? 

Besides, you aren’t stupid. You know he’s unhappy because Shinsou is here. And, by all means, Shinsou is being an asshole. But he’s your friend, and a really good friend (only a friend). You just want the two to get along, and you want to show your boyfriend that he has nothing to worry about! But, as per usual, both boys are being... difficult, to say the least.

After a few minutes it becomes clear that Bakugou’s mood isn’t going to improve, so you go back to your conversation with Mina and Jirou, absentmindedly rubbing your thumb over his knuckles. Eventually, he starts to relax, but remains quiet. He’s too stubborn to admit that you know how to calm him down, after all. And, besides, he can’t risk the guys telling him he’s going ‘soft’ (his words, not yours).

As your high reaches its peak, you forget about the exchange almost completely. You’ve moved to lay your head in Bakugou’s lap, staring up at him. You reach for his hand, bringing it to rest on your head and he rolls his eyes, fingers gently scratching your scalp. You smile up at him lazily, blowing him a kiss. 

With his hands in your hair, you feel yourself begin to drift off, the conversations around you fading into a low buzz in the background. 

Suddenly, Bakugou’s hands stop.

“Kats,” You whine, one eye cracking open to see what was wrong.

Bakugou’s mouth is agape, brows raised, and face red.

“Kats? You okay?” 

He doesn’t answer, and you follow his gaze to the couch, where Denki has climbed into Shinsou’s lap. The blonde’s fingers are threaded into his hair, Shinsou’s firmly gripping his waist, and they’re kissing. You sit up, a laugh bubbling in your throat.

“See, bubs?” You plant a small, teasing kiss to his lips. “Told ya you have nothing to worry about.”

#Bakugou Katsuki #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha #bnha #bakugou katsuki x reader #mha imagines #bnha imagines #bakugou katsuki imagines #bakugou x stoner!reader #my hero academia imagines #boku no hero academia imagines #bakusquad #Kirishima Eijirou #Ashido Mina #Sero Hanta #denki kaminari #shinsou hitoshi #jirou kyoka #mha headcanons #BNHA Headcanons #stoner bakusquad #modern au #college au #bakugou fluff #bakugou is bad at feelings #soft bakugou #my hero academia headcanons #bakusquad imagines #katsuki bakugou

[crystalblazefire]

so thanks to your enthusiastic support i have actually started planning this AU LMAO, i’ve written a little snippet to test out the voices for the characters and to get a feel of their dynamic. not sure if this is going to be in the final product, but i wanted to share jic anyone is interested!!

🌌 🌌 🌌

“Two hundred credits.” Makkari motions towards the pile of credit chips pointedly. “Just as we said.” The Twi’lek mercenary squints at the heap. He makes a point of examining it from every possible angle, almost as if he’s desperate to pounce on an opportunity to prove her wrong. Which, as her instincts always warn her, hardly ever plays out favorably.  She attempts to conceal her annoyance, and fails. “Staring at it isn’t going to turn it into beskar, you know.”

Her trade partner barely seems to notice her gestures. The silence lingers for several more minutes, until the Twi’lek finally says, “Only two hundred?”

Well, then. What was but a spark of exasperation grows into full-fledged irritation, and Makkari begins signing rapid-fire. “What do you mean, only two hundred? This was the deal. We help you with your little Jawa problem, and we pay half the fare-"

 "That's Randor you cut the deal with, not me," he responds, his gestures aggravated. "Two hundred isn't going to cut it. Not when the Sith are constantly on my ass these days. Too risky. You want a ride to Onderon, I’m gonna need at least five hundred."

Five hundred! For a brief moment, Makkari considers knocking him out with the hilt of her lightsaber. Not very Jedi of her, admittedly. The guilt creeps in as she imagines Master Ajak’s reproachful stare. There is no emotion, there is peace.

No emotion. Peace. She has to close her eyes and repeat the mantra a couple more times to soothe the fire within. 

 But the Force has a sense of humor, it seems. When she’s ready to resume the negotiations, she notices the Twi’lek’s sneaky hands, scooping the credits into his pocket — and grabbing the blaster on his belt. 

Damned mercenaries, she thinks, her mood sour. Her hand reaches for the lightsaber in her right pocket as she stands abruptly. She really hoped it wouldn’t have to come to this, but — 

Oh no you don’t, a dry voice rings in her head, loud and clear, through the Force. At the same time, the light in the Twi’lek mercenary’s eyes dulls, replaced with hazy obedience. He recites something verbally, something Makkari can’t quite make out completely. The parts she catches are ‘walk out’ and ‘whip my head with the blaster.’ 

 Well, she knows whose deed that was. 

“I thought we were laying off the mind tricks, Druig,” Makkari signs, just as the Twi’lek slumps forward in his seat. She turns around to face her fellow Jedi Knight — whose blue eyes are sparkling with amusement. “Took your sweet time getting back, too.” 

“You have my apologies, Makkari,” he answers, though he doesn’t seem nearly as sorry as he says he claims to be. “The ship needed inspecting. And well,” He tilts his head. “Seemed like you needed a little help there. A little persuasion never hurts.” 

 “You know how Ajak feels about you using the Force to encourage self-flagellation.” 

 The grin on his face is devious as he leans towards her. “Ah, my beautiful Makkari, she’ll never know if you don’t tell.”

“An awful lot of faith in me, don't you think?” 

“I’d say it’s incredibly well-placed.” 

 “It is, but only if you keep your promise to accompany me to the Nar Shaddaa markets.” 

He laughs — and she feels the joy bouncing off him in the Force, in their connection. The warmth of it is infectious; it tugs at the corners of her lips as well. “Deal.”

#wow guess what scene this was inspired by #drukkari #druig #makkari #so subtle #drukkari: star wars au #eternals #the eternals #eternals: star wars au

[krabstick32]

Snow Melts Quicker in Water

Pairing: Giyuu x Reader

Synopsis: You and Giyuu fight, but things have a way of sorting themselves out. 

Tags/warnings: very light angst, mostly fluff, super light make out session uwu

a/n: thank you for requesting @aliaisreal​!! you’re super sweet, so thank you very much for your patience and understanding!! I hope the wait was worth it!! 🥺

Link to the ask: Request by @aliaisreal​

The best (and kindest) way possible people could describe Tomioka Giyuu was that he was like water itself.

Like water, he adapted easily and quickly, His movements were fluid and continuous, unstoppable in its actions like a waterfall spilling over a cliff. His voice was baritone, smooth, but held power underneath the surface. He flowed through any obstacle in his life as best as he could, and that rang true even to your relationship. 

While he thought that he mostly went with the flow, It’s been an entire week since your fight, and it’s been an entire week since he’s talked to you.

Admittedly, you two have fought before—minor little squabbles where he always took it upon himself to be the first to apologize. He didn’t like the idea of you upset, but now was different. This was probably the biggest fight he’s ever had with you, and as much as he loves you, he didn’t want to be the one to make the first move this time.

One moment, he came home to you, tired and ready to go straight to your shared room and drop dead for the next few hours, but in the next, the two of you were saying things that neither of you meant, arguing over something that should have been a simple thing. 

That night, the fight was so big that he ended up taking refuge in the butterfly estate. 

Well, given the injuries he got in his last mission, he was already going to go the next morning, but he was hoping to see you and rest first before anything else. 

Breathing out a sigh, he sits up from the cold hospital bed he’s been sleeping on for the past week, and reflexively brings a hand to the bandages around his stomach. He never did like fighting with you. It always left a heavy weight on his chest, and it always occupies his mind, resulting in him fighting slightly sloppier than he’d like.  

Maybe he should apologize? There was a pillar meeting later on in the day, so if he wanted to, he could. He usually did, within the day, but this was the longest the two of you were actively mad at each other. The two of you fought, but last night was the first time the two of you fought for that long.

But for once, he didn’t want to. For once, he wanted you to make the first move, and maybe, just this once he should. 

Giyuu breathes out a heavy sigh. He’ll just think about that later.

When Giyuu arrived at the Ubuyashiki Garden, he was thrown off by the fact that you weren’t there. He was further surprised when the Oyakata-sama came in, and there was still no sign of you.

Between the both of you, you were the early bird, and would usually be one of the first who arrived, if you didn’t come dragging him by his haori.

Your absence was rubbing him off the wrong way. He’s missed you a lot so he was really hoping to see you today, even if the two of you got into a fight.

While his facade was as perfectly emotionless and stoic as ever, his mind was spiralling deeper into worry. Why weren’t you here? Were you that mad? Were you so pissed that you chose to forgo the meeting because of him?

(Unbeknownst to him, his fellow pillars were looking at him. His face didn’t change, but everyone could see his worry clear as day.)

Oyakata-sama dismisses the meeting after a while, and everyone bows, leaving right after they were assigned with new missions and patrols. Giyuu only had to patrol his region in the evening...maybe he should go look for you?

On his way back to his estate to search for you, he passes by the butterfly estate and sees Tanjirou and his friends helping the girls hang the sheets. Well, it was more like Tanjirou was helping, while Zenitsu and Inosuke quarreled.

Tanjirou immediately notices Giyuu, raising a hand in greeting. He quickly hangs the bedsheet in his hand to rush over to the raven haired man. “Tomioka-san! How are you?”

“Hello Tanjirou.” Giyuu responds as the young demon slayer stands in front of him, adding, “I’m fine.”

“I’m glad! You seem distressed though, is everything alright? Are you worried about (F/N)-san?”

Giyuu doesn’t even try to hide it, simply nodding and feeling a little shy from how Tanjirou could easily read him. “She wasn’t at the meeting earlier. She’s usually there first.”

He places a hand over his chin and nods. “Oh, of course she’s not.”

That was news to him. “What? Do you...know where she is?”

“No…” Tanjirou responds, but his face immediately crumples in on itself, his eyeballs rolling back into his head. Both of them knew he was lying, but Giyuu still feels a little bad that he’s using the boy’s honest and earnest personality to his advantage.

Regardless, He gives the younger boy a look that has Tanjirou looking away abashedly. “I don’t think I’m supposed to say anything…”

“Tanjirou…”

It doesn’t take much for him to cave, and he sighs before telling Giyuu what he knows. “She went out for a mission. I thought you knew, but—” He cuts himself off when his nose detects panic and worry, the smell nearly taking over his senses. “—Ah! But don’t worry, Giyuu-san! This is (F/N)-san, I’m sure she’ll be fine!”

Oh, Giyuu knew you were strong and capable, but with a job as dangerous and unpredictable as theirs, so many things could happen. Right now, he wanted nothing more than to curse his pride. He should have approached you right after, he shouldn’t have let this go on longer than it should have.

The best thing he could do right now was wait for you, and apologize as soon as he sees you.

He hopes he gets the chance.

“You’re right. She’ll be fine.”

Tanjirou wasn’t sure who Giyuu was trying to convince.

As the Snow Hashira, people expected you to be cold, stern, harsh, and while it’s not completely wrong, you were one of the kindest out of all the pillars. You had a heart of gold that shone through and had a smile that could warm even the coldest of hearts. It made it easier for people to approach you despite the initial impression, but everyone found it ironic that the Snow Pillar was one of the warmest, kindest, most genuine slayer from the bunch.

You were proud of your work as a demon slayer—saving lives, and killing the very thing that brought you and so many others so much pain—but the fact that you and your friends walked hand in hand with death was… well, it was a lot to take in.

Death is, and never will be something you think you’ll get used to. It was always painful—knowing that you could have done something to help, or knowing that their death was beyond your power. Whether you liked it or not, it was one of those things that just happened. No matter how much you wanted cheat death, there was no stopping it—

Which was one of the main reasons why you got so mad at Giyuu when he came home to you all bruised and bloody.

Instead of going to the butterfly estate, it was normal that he’d come home straight to you after a particularly challenging mission, in which cases you’d do basic first aid before rushing him to Shinobu. There wasn’t any problem really. There were moments where you would come home to him in a similar state, where he’d be the one giving you first aid, and you were happy he trusted you enough to show you his vulnerable side.

But you were just so painfully reminded of how you became a demon slayer, of how your family sacrificed themselves for your escape. You could see that Giyuu was barely thinking of himself, often throwing himself in harm’s way just to get a mission done.

Seeing someone you love give such little importance to himself made you both sad and angry. It rubbed you the wrong way, and you couldn’t help but burst and get mad at him. The fight escalated quickly, and both of you said things you didn’t mean.

Looking back, it was a little stupid. You reacted irrationally and immaturely when you could have talked it out with him like an adult. You acknowledged that it was mostly your fault, and that you should have been the one to apologize, but you just couldn’t admit your mistake, seeing as you still agreed with how reckless he was being.

So you avoided him, devoting nearly all of your time to your missions.

A few days after you started avoiding him, Oyakata-sama sent for you and assigned a mission that needed an entire day of travel. There was a group of Tsuchinoto’s that weren’t doing too well, and it required you to dispose of the demon and help them in any way you can. While you took the job with no qualms, you were a little apprehensive. You and Giyuu still hadn’t made up, and this mission required at least three days, and that’s taking into account if everything went smoothly, which things rarely did.

It didn’t sit right for you to leave without seeing him, so the morning you planned to leave, you dropped by the Butterfly Estate to see him. You haven’t talked to him for five full days now, and while he didn’t talk a lot, you really missed his company.

You find him sleeping in one of the rooms. A small part of you was hoping that he’d be awake so you could talk a bit, maybe even apologize before you left, but he didn’t even move at all when you opened the door. Considering how much of a light sleeper he was, it was a little surprising that he didn’t stir at all when you sat by the edge of his bed beside him, but he was still recovering from the injuries of his previous battle, so it can hardly be helped. In fact, it worked in your favor, because he didn’t wake up when you pressed a small kiss to his temple.

Softly, you put your forehead against his and press a hand against his cheek, whispering as lightly as you could. “I’ll be going now, but I’ll come back. I love you.”

He was clearly unconscious, but the way he leans closer to your touch made your heart melt and butterflies flood your stomach. Even when you were supposed to be fighting, he could still make you feel this way.

It figures. Snow always did melt quicker in water.

You smile and push the stray hairs away from his face. You let your hand caress his cheek as you memorize his features as best as you could, leaving the room once you've realized that you need to go soon. Turning, you take one last look at Giyuu before closing the door as softly as you could—and coming face to face with dark red eyes.

You let out a small yelp, too late to realize that it was only Tanjirou smiling up at you in confusion.

“Tanjirou-kun! You surprised me!”

“Sorry about that (F/N)-san. I was on my way to check on Nezuko.” He laughs a little bashfully, rubbing the back of his neck. He looks back up at you though when he realizes whose room you were coming out of. ��What are you doing coming out of Giyuu-san’s room? Is there something wrong?”

Was there something wrong? Well technically there was, as you two were avoiding each other, but you brush off his concern, finding it a little awkward to explain. “Oh, no! Not at all, I just wanted to see him before leaving for a mission.”

“A mission?”

You nod. “Yes, I’m not sure of all the details yet, but it might take a while.”

“Oh, I see! Please take care (F/N)-san!”

“Thank you Tanjirou-kun, I will. Stay out of trouble alright?”

“Will do!” Tanjirou was quick to deliver a salute, making you giggle despite your heavy heart. Seeing one of the Kamado siblings always made you smile - they were too adorable for their own good.

As you were about to step out the hall, you suddenly remember something.“Ah, by the way Tanjirou-kun, Giyuu was asleep so I didn’t want to bother him, but can you not tell him that I dropped by?”

The young boy seems to be thrown off by your weird request, and tries to question you as politely as he could. You were still his superior after all, and a person he deeply respected. “Eh? Not tell Giyuu-san?”

“Yes.”

Tanjirou was apprehensive—he couldn’t lie for his life after all—but you must have your reasons, so instead, he resolved to just do his best. He was the eldest son! He could do this! “Oh, okay then, I’ll do my best (F/N)-san!”

“Wonderful! Thank you, Tanjirou-kun.”

When Tanjirou finally cracked and told Giyuu where you were, the Water Pillar waited as patiently as he could. He was known for his patience, and for his go with the flow attitude, but when it came to you, he wanted nothing more than to just rush by your side. When he discovered your mission, he was practically itching to run all the way over to you. You leaving for your mission before he nor you could apologize sat terribly in his gut. The only thing tying him down to his post was his sense of duty. He still had missions to attend to here, and unless someone could cover for him, or unless it was a terrible emergency, he couldn’t leave.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust you as a fellow pillar, but as your boyfriend, he was worried for you. Your fight left a horrible taste in his mouth, and he could never forgive himself if that was the last moment he had with you.

So instead, he sat patiently, going through routine and accomplishing his patrols and missions dutifully.

It wasn’t until a few days later when he learned of what happened to your party.

It was a lower moon, and while that would have been an easy job for you, you had five other slayers to protect and worry about. His crow reported that everyone was quickly brought to the Butterfly Estate, and that was the last thing he needed to hear before bolting from his estate and out to Shinobu’s.

“Where is she?”

Shinobu turns as Giyuu bursts through the doors, her smile as saccharine as ever. “Ah, hello to you too Tomioka-san!”

“Kochou, where is (F/N)?” Giyuu looked about ready to tear down the whole place to look for you, and Shinobu knew that. Regardless, Shinobu’s smile never wavers as she continues to tease him.

“Ara, are you worried about (F/N)-chan?” She continues, but for the first time, it eases him. Shinobu loved pushing his buttons, but she knew when to stop. If she was being like this, you should be alive, at the very least. She doesn’t motion or signal Giyuu to follow her, but he was quick to walk after the Insect Pillar, moving as quick and as fluid as flowing water.

Shinobu stops at a door, and slides it open to reveal you awake, sitting up on the bed. You seemed to be a little bruised and worse for wear with all the bandages and discolored patches of skin, but you were alive and you were breathing, and that’s all what matters to Giyuu right now.

From her periphery, Shinobu could see the relief on Giyuu, and as much as she liked pissing Giyuu off, she knows the feeling and backs off. There was always another time for teasing, she can do that later.

“I’ll leave you two be. Tomioka-san be careful of her injuries, alright?” As promised, the door slides back closed as Shinobu leaves you two be.

After a while, you pat the empty space by the edge of your bed, croaking out a short “Sit with me.”, before Giyuu moves to sit over carefully. When he was settled, his eyes roamed over your skin, quick to assess the number of injuries and thinking how critical and painful each one of them might be.

“Before you say anything,” You start, “I’m sorry.”

Giyuu’s thrown off and his eyes dart from the bloody bandage on your arm to your eyes. “What—”

“I was way out of line, and I overreacted. I was being petty in waiting for you to apologize first, but it should have been me. I’m sorry for overreacting…and for taking this long to apologize.”

“But it doesn’t mean that I'm sorry about everything else!” Because while you were aware you overreacted, it didn’t mean that your feelings came from nowhere. “I can see that I was wrong in the way I approached things but I meant every word when I said that you’re too careless! I hate seeing you in pain and you just reminded me too much of my family and I—”

He interrupts you by taking your hands. Lightly, he traces vague shapes onto the skin of your palm, the rough calluses on his fingertips a nice reminder that he was here, that he was alive, and that you were too. 

“I couldn’t handle the thought of you leaving me. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too.”

The two of you stay quiet, the weight being lifted off of both of your shoulders, until a thought occurs to you that causes you to pull away.

“But you’re not saying anything about your recklessness.” You point out, giving him a light glare, only stopping when a small smile curls around his lips.

He chuckles and the sound goes straight to your heart. “Okay, I promise to stop being too reckless.”

“You better keep that promise, or else I’ll hunt you down myself.” Smiling softly, you place a hand against his cheek and pull him closer. “I missed you.”

Giyuu hums against your touch and a week's worth of not seeing him drives you to press your lips against his mouth. He responds easily, shifting his weight onto himself and holding your body to lighten the strain on you. You hold onto the lapels of his haori as he deepens the kiss, and it was a good thing he was holding you because under normal circumstances, your knees would have buckled.

“(F/N)-chan! It’s time to change your bandages—” Hearing a foreign voice, causes the two of you to turn to the entrance— “Oh dear. I’m so sorry to interrupt!”—only to see Shinobu smiling at  the two of you like a cat that ate the canary.

“Sh-Shinobu-chan! It’s um...”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s exactly what I think hm?” Her smile seems to grow wider, and you feel your face burst into flames. She knew exactly what was going on. “But Tomioka-san, I never would have guessed! How bold of you to do such lewd things to an injured patient! Anyway, I’ll leave you two alone, I’ll drop by again later to change your bandages, (F/N)-chan!”

The sound of the door slamming shut signals Shonbu’s leave and both you and Giyuu were left staring at the space where Shinobu once stood.

Just when things were getting good.

“She did that on purpose.” You announce, and Giyuu nods sympathetically.

“She probably did.”

You sigh but then immediately flinch and clutch your side as it burns from the injury. Giyuu was quick to notice and moves right by your bedside, assisting you in lying back down

“Be careful. You’re mad at me for pushing myself, when you’re just as bad.”

“Hush, you should have seen how you were practically bleeding all over the place.”

“Hashira Tomioka-sama, can we plea—“

“No.”

It’s been two weeks since you left the Butterfly Estate, and as the Snow Pillar, you were well back on the grind patrolling and killing demons once you’ve fully recovered. The young demon slayers you saved though wish they could say the same. While you had some pretty critical injuries yourself, theirs were much worse, with all seven sporting broken bones, and other heavy injuries, but thanks to Shinobu’s medicine, they were on the road to recovery and physical therapy.

When the Oyakata-sama heard of the incident, he was quick to instruct someone to train the weaker demon-slayers.

Giyuu was more than happy to beat these slayers into shape.

Which led them here, Giyuu with a wooden sword in hand and a pile of sore bodies by his feet.

One such body groaned at the dirt floor as he clutched at the side Giyuu hit a little too hard. “We’ve already ran down the mountain, tried to dodge all of the deadly traps, and sparred with you. Surely we could have a short break, sir?”

Giyuu wanted to laugh at the naivety of these young slayers. When Urokodaki trained him and Sabito, they had it much worse, even being thrown down cliffs and waterfalls. And while Giyuu could say that Urokodaki was like a father figure to him, his training regimen was worse than any hell he could have experienced. But now was hardly the time to reminisce, he still had business to do.

He wasn’t one to intentionally intimidate others much, but he’s overheard plenty of rumors about himself. He’s heard that he’s one of the most…intimidating of the pillars, to say the least, and now, he’s not going to shy away from what could be an advantage to his situation.

Slowly, Giyuu walked over to the slayer and crossed his arms, looking straight through his eyes as he quietly spoke. “Your last mission was well-matched for someone of your rank.” He notes. “You hardly needed a Pillar for back-up, and because of your carelessness, she had to protect all five of you which landed the Snow Pillar in the butterfly estate. Now tell me, do you need a break?”

Despite Giyuu speaking in a voice no louder than a river’s burble, he could see the young man cower from slight fear before speaking in a shaky tone, “N-No, Sir!”

“I thought so.” Giyuu lightly clucked his tongue to himself before unfolding his arms. “Reset the traps and run through the mountain again. I'll let all five of you go for the day after.”

“Yes, Sir!” All five of them scrambled from their spot on the ground and scurried back up the mountain, letting himself feel a small morsel of sick satisfaction when he could hear the loud clacks from the traps and the pained grunts upon collision.

“I would say that it’s really nice that you took them in, but now that i’ve seen your face, i’m starting to think that this is on purpose.”

Giyuu was barely surprised to see the Snow Pillar herself right beside him like she was there the entire time. As pillars, both of you were faster and moved more efficiently than the average slayer, so you sneaking up on him was a common occurrence. You never seemed to get used to the opposite though, always claiming that he moved like a ghost.

“Maybe.” He shrugs, a little helplessly, tapping the wooden sword against the ground in a distracted fashion.

You laugh a nice tinkling sound he’s loves hearing, and he’s glad that you’re fine, and that the stupid little fight was resolved. He’s missed you a lot.

The two of you stood there together in silence, wincing when the sound of pained yelps travelled over from the small mountain Giyuu chose for training. A random conversation you had with your boyfriend suddenly entered your thoughts though, and made you wonder out loud. “Are you using the method Urokodaki-san used when he trained you?”

Nodding in affirmation, Giyuu hums in thought. “It was effective for me. And seeing how poorly trained they are from your previous mission, I thought that...” His train of thought short-circuited and was quickly derailed when you lean up on your tiptoes to place a soft kiss on his cheek. Giyuu’s ears immediately flush a deep red.

“You’re too cute, sweetheart.” You say, wrapping your arms around his neck. Seeing the ineffable Water Pillar flustered because of you was always a sight to behold. “Though, you didn’t have do thisfor me either.”

He turns his head away in hopes that you wouldn't see his face, but you simply laugh, and Giyuu feels his heart melt again. “They need to train more if they want to continue as slayers.”

You hum, letting your fingers sift through black strands of hair. “I know, I know, but lighten up, okay? Don’t be too hard on them.”

Giyuu nods as a reply and you place another kiss before pulling away. He wants to pull you back, but the trainees were already stumbling down the treeline, looking worse than they did a few minutes ago. Everyone was sporting new bruises and a few a lot of scratches, but seemed overall fine as they dropped down to the ground, panting for much needed air.

“All of you seem to be working hard.” You say in a kind voice, smiling kindly when their heads whip around to face you.

“Hashira (L/N)-sama!” They greet, scrambling to get up and drop to a bow in front of you. “We’re so glad to see you okay! Thank you for saving us!”

You wave your hand in front of your face, saying, “Oh, it was no problem! I’m glad all of you are okay.”

“All thanks to you. We hope you recovered well.”

“I did, thank you. Now stand up properly. Bowing for too long can’t be good for you all.”

One of them was about to open their mouth to continue the conversation, but Giyuu was quick to interject. “Alright, back to training.”

“Eh?!” All the trainees exclaim. It was clear that they respected the Water Pillar, but it was almost comical in how obvious the feeling of betrayal was in their voices.

“But we just finished!” A young girl among them who looked about ready to melt from exhaustion, points out. Another nods along, stating what Giyuu said earlier, in a hopeless fight for their much deserved break. “Tomioka-sama said we could go after!”

Oh, Giyuu is well aware of what he said. Instead of saying anything though, he feigns innocence, pretending he forgot despite having full intention of letting them go for the day.

He looks at the young slayers emptily, and responds in a deadpan tone. “Did I?”

Giyuu hears you sputter in laughter before punching his shoulder in a pitiful attempt to defend the poor kids. In both of your defenses, their faces were too funny not to laugh.

“Giyuu!”

#giyuu tomioka x reader #giyuu x reader #tomioka giyuu x reader #giyu tomioka x reader #tomioka x reader #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #kny #kimetsu giyuu #kimetsu tomioka #kimetsu no yaiba giyuu #kimetsu no yaiba tomioka #giyuu #giyuu tomioka #giyu tomioka #tomioka giyuu #fluff #kny x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #demon slayer x reader

[charmingyong]

Make a Wish, Boy

Genre: Jaehyun x fem!reader, angst, fluff

Warnings: self doubt/insecurities

Word count: 1.7k

Plot: After Jaehyun’s ex crushed his confidence, he met you. The same girl that his genie hyung tended to.

A/N: Sequel/spinoff to Make A Wish, Girl but you don’t have to read that one. Something @cosmiclatte28​ suggested and I wanted to write months ago and I finally did it :D This is the official end.

- ❀ -

A heavy weight on his shoulders had never left Jaehyun ever since his girlfriend, ex-girlfriend, dumped him. It was more her words that devastated him than the actual breakup as he had seen it coming with her growing disinterest in him.

“You’re not the same as I thought,” she reasoned. “You’re so clingy and emotionally sensitive. It’s really annoying.”

Her reply made all the self love he tried so hard to build over the years crash down at his feet.

Jaehyun pressed the button for the elevator and let out a long sigh. An old friend of his from school times moved into a nearby apartment, and so he decided to make a trip and visit Jungwoo.

He watched the red lighting display above, the numbers slowly decreasing as the elevator descended. During the wait, he felt a presence beside him and turned his head to quickly glance at his temporary lift buddy.

Only for the air to get knocked out of his lungs when he saw your face.

You were the same girl in the biodata he suggested to his Taeyong hyung, and he then realized that this was the same address he read on there.

The elevator doors opened and you walked in casually, pressing on the button to your floor. You noticed that the boy you stood beside didn’t budge from his place as he gawked at you.

“Are you gonna come in?” you asked, holding onto the button that kept the doors open.

He shook out of his thoughts and hurriedly jogged in. “Sorry,” he muttered while avoiding your gaze shyly.

You hummed. “It’s okay. Where are you heading?”

He was about to press the button for Jungwoo’s floor until he noticed that it was already lit up. “Oh. Same as yours.”

“Ah.” You flashed him a genuine smile and Jaehyun’s heart melted at the simple gesture.

When the doors opened, you strolled out with him following behind. Jungwoo’s suite arrived first, making him halt in front of his door.

“Oh! You live here? I live right next door,” you mentioned with a lively beam.

It was way too fast for him to move on this quickly, especially with the existing insecurities. But he couldn’t help it when his heart combusted at your bright self and you had only met him a few minutes ago. “Actually, it’s my friend’s place.”

Your face fell slightly at the reply and he sensed it, immediately adding, “I don’t live far though. I mean that’s if you want to... um... meet me again.”

Oh shit.

No.

Please say no.

He regretted blurting it out.

But the beautiful smile that formed on you afterwards made his heart drop.

“Sure! I’d love that.” You pulled your phone out and clicked on the screen while Jaehyun grew restless.

He shouldn’t have. This wasn’t right. He’d only drive you away just like his ex.

“You can put your contact in here,” you said and handed the phone to him.

He slowly took hold of it and hesitantly added his name and number before giving it back.

You grinned upon reading his name. “It’s nice meeting you, Jaehyun. I’ll text you later. And oh! I’m Y/N.” You nearly forgot to introduce yourself.

But even if you hadn’t, he remembered your name. “It’s nice meeting you too, Y/N,” he responded with a forced yet excited smile.

You headed towards your door and right before stepping out of his sight, you waved your hand happily, in which he mirrored with an anxious heart.

Once gone, he turned to ring the doorbell but his friend had beaten him and swung the barrier open, a mischievous smile plastered on Jungwoo’s face. He had heard and seen everything through the eye hole.

“So?” Jungwoo was excited to hear the details from his friend about the next-door girl that he had bumped into once.

Jaehyun heaved out a sigh and walked past him. “Just someone I met on the elevator.”

“And you gave her your number. Wow, I didn’t think you’d get over your ex that fast.”

He didn’t. He was still emotionally scarred after exposing his vulnerable side. Jaehyun hated feeling this way, regretted putting his heart on his sleeve. “I’m worried she’ll leave me.”

Jungwoo tutted, disapprovingly shaking his head. “Tell her the truth. Honesty is the best policy.”

- ❀ -

Jaehyun sprinted with his pounding heart. He spent way too long striding around in his home that the time now read 2:05 pm.

Five minutes past the agreed time for meetup.

His hair was a complete mess, having ran through them constantly due to stress. He texted to inform you of a delay due to an unforeseen circumstance. It technically was one, when he didn’t think the fear would get to him this bad. He was a little relieved when you replied back.

Y/N: Oh! Dont worry about it. I’ll be waiting for you :)

You really were an angel that he didn’t deserve to ruin.

Sipping on the cappuccino, you hummed in a delightful tune while waiting for the boy. Waiting didn’t bother you as long as you weren’t being stood up and were informed about it. It was only for a matter of minutes and you’d forgive him ever since receiving multiple frantic apologies and assurances that he’d be there soon.

While taking another sip, the door to the café burst open, and you smiled upon seeing the flushed boy.

He spotted you right away and jogged over. “I’m so sorry! I- I was troubled with something.”

You shook your head. “Don’t worry about it. But what were you troubled with? Anything I can help you with?”

Jaehyun gawked at you, amazed that you’d be really calm despite the wait. If he did that with his ex, he’d have to make it up to her.

He really didn’t deserve you.

He sheepishly smiled. “Well, it’s something I wanted to talk to you about anyway.”

“Ah.” Admittedly, you were anxious with what he had to say, seeing that he was troubled by it before the meetup. “What is it?”

He rubbed the back of his neck and released a deep breath. “I...”

You waited patiently with your entire attention fixed on him.

“I have problems.”

You stayed quiet, unsure what he meant.

Jaehyun looked away from you, his saddened eyes clearly evident. “Like problems in me,” he continued.

You blinked. “I really don’t understand. What problems do you have?”

Jaehyun sucked in a breath and thought back to his ex’s words and listed them off to you. “I’m clingy, emotionally sensitive, overprotective, don’t know how to give space...” he spoke quietly.

When he didn’t continue after trailing off, you urged him gently, “And? So... these are the problems you think you have?”

He shook his head. “I know I have them. It’s the reason why my ex-girlfriend left me.”

You hummed. “Good thing she left.”

Your words stung him hard. He should have seen it coming, yet had a little hope flickering inside that you might be different and tell him that his ex was bad. Looked like he was wrong. He really was all the supposed bad things that his ex had mentioned, and he felt like digging up a grave for himself, hoping he could vanish from the face of the earth.

Until you continued.

“She doesn’t deserve you, making you feel like something is wrong with you when the problem is in her. She couldn’t understand you and that’s her issue. These aren’t problems, Jaehyun. Everyone is different. These so called problems sounds more like you’re the caring type and I like that.” You reached forward to put your palm up, silently asking for his hand. He placed his in yours hesitantly, his heart melting when you curled your fingers around his, rubbing circles with your thumb on the back of his hand.

Jaehyun loved feeling the butterflies in his stomach from your touch and wished you wouldn’t stop the interaction. “You really don’t think I’m bad?” he asked with a hopeful shine in his eyes.

You shook your head, giving him a reassuring squeeze. “Nope.”

He sighed, looking down at the table. “You will when you spend more time with me.”

When he didn’t hear your response, he lifted his gaze to see you staring intently at him. You remembered feeling this way, heartbroken a few months back when your ex cheated on you. But thanks to Taeyong, you healed and were now the best version of yourself to date.

And like the way Taeyong helped bring your shine back, you were going to do the same for Jaehyun. With determination in your eyes, you said, “Wanna bet?”

- ❀ -

Jaehyun walked back to his place and was startled to see a figure lazing on his couch. He jumped and placed his hand over his heart. “Oh gosh, hyung! What are you doing here?”

Taeyong huffed. “Well, of course I would only be here to discuss about one thing.”

“What is that?”

“Y/N.”

Jaehyun pressed his lips and looked away.

The genie sighed. “Your breakup really took a toll on you and I notice it every day. But you have to understand that Y/N went through the same thing before. She’ll understand you better than anyone else can. You have to trust her word.”

Jaehyun scrunched his face in confusion. “Her word?” 

Taeyong smirked, silently thinking back to your meetup at the café with Jaehyun where the genie was present in disguise to hide himself. “I overheard the bet.”

-

Jaehyun furrowed his brows. “What bet?”

You smiled, pleased that he was going to give you a chance to prove him wrong. “Let’s say one month. If in one month I run away, I’ll go back to my ex and beg him to take me back.”

His jaw dropped at the absurdity. “You wouldn’t do that.” It didn’t make sense to him and you shouldn’t have to do that.

You crossed your arms and leaned back against the chair, smiling confidently. “That’s how confident I am.”

He gulped nervously. He couldn’t let you do such a thing if you lost. Jaehyun was going to have to get over his internal battle and learn to love and accept himself wholly. “What if you win? What if you don’t leave me in a month?”

A wide grin took over your features, making your eyes crinkles happily. “I want be your personal genie. I’ll make every wish of yours come true.”

#cznnet #nct #nct 127 #jaehyun #jung jaehyun #jeong jaehyun #nct jaehyun #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun fanfic #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct x reader #charm

[kuroopaisen]

little changes | i (miya atsumu)

➵ miya atsumu is the bane of your existence. but, that means different things at different times of your life. 

PART TWO

wc: 6.9k (i know)

warnings: f!reader, cursing (too much tbh)

a/n: hi i couldn’t get this out of head so here you go,,, there’ll be a second part tomorrow 

The first time you'd met, he'd pushed you into a puddle.

"Slow down!" You yelled, chest heaving as you tried to catch up to the two boys ahead of you. Even at seven years old, their legs were significantly longer than yours.

The twins scrambled to a stop, looking over their shoulders at you.

"Hurry up!" Atsumu yapped. "If you can't keep up, we're gonna leave you behind."

"That's unfair!" You pouted, stumbling to a stop in front of them. "You can't just leave me out!"

Atsumu stared at you for a moment.

One clean shove, and you were on your butt, muck and water splashing up around you.

"What'd you do that for?" You yapped, looking up at the boy with a glare strong enough to kill a god.

"You were bein' annoyin'."

"Hey!"

"That's not cool, 'Tsumu," Osamu sighed, holding out a hand to you.

Atsumu shrugged, letting out a long, exaggerated yawn.

That was the day you decided that Miya Atsumu was your arch-nemesis.

Not much had changed since that day. Miya Atsumu was, to put it lightly, the bane of your existence.

Middle school brought him no maturity. If anything, he got worse. He treated you like a nuisance, your friendship with Osamu be damned. But unfortunately, the two of them were rarely apart. And apparently being around you was better than being bored.

"You can't spike a ball for shit," he mumbled, shaking his head at you.

"Oi, language!"

"Shuddup," he rolled his eyes, turning his back to you. "You're so borin'."

He always called you that. Boring.

You glared at him, clenching your fists. You were just trying to play along with them. Sure, your volleyball skills left something to be desired. But Osamu didn't mind. And you wanted to play with your friend, his shitstain of a brother be damned.

"Yeah, well–" You sucked in your breath, trying to think of something very cruel – but not profane, because you're only eleven and swearing is one of the worst things you could do – to say to him. "You're a bastard!"

He looked over his shoulder at you, one eyebrow raised. Did his silence spell your victory?

"Pig."

Nope.  

That was just the first of many monikers Miya Atsumu gave to you. He had so many, in fact, that it seemed he was allergic to calling you by your name. Pig seemed to be a particular favourite.

But, you always prided yourself on being tough. It took more than a few paltry words to do some real damage to you. And you were determined to not let Atsumu get the upper hand.

And yet, some days he did. They were rare, but they stung like nothing else. It was the days he got possessive. The days he told you to piss off, that he wanted to hang out with Osamu and he didn't want you there to ruin it.

You told yourself that it didn't matter. That you couldn't care less what he thought of you. But it wasn't enough to shift that awful little feeling that came with being told you were unwanted.

"Don't listen to him," Osamu sighed, hand clumsily patting your back. "He's just… like that. He sucks."

You sniffed, wiping your nose with the back of your hand. "Yeah."

You were just mad at yourself for crying. Thankfully, Atsumu had stalked off before you'd crumpled. But still. You'd let him get to you. You were better than that, right? Better than him.

"I still like you," Osamu swallowed, fumbling with the right words to say in a situation like this. "I'll beat him up for you, if you want."

You shook your head, a little too vigorously. "Nah, I don't want you to get into a fight with your brother because of me."

That's what it came down to, really. The feeling that you were in the way of something important. Of something that mattered more than you. The spiteful look Atsumu would shoot you whenever Osamu spent time with you instead of him hurt most.

Osamu shook his head. "Nah, it's fine. I really want an excuse to deck him in the face sometimes."

You giggled at that. It was the first time you'd smiled all day. "Thanks, 'Samu."

--------

With each year that passed, Miya Atsumu seemed to get worse. And with each year that passed, you were baffled.

How could someone have such a garbage personality? And worse yet, why was he blessed with such immense talent? You weren't an idiot, and you weren't the sort to deny credit when it was due. The twins were good. You knew jack-shit about volleyball – you'd sworn off it ever since Atsumu had been such a bastard about it – but you knew enough to know they were impressive.

They were just first years, but they were already on the starting line-up of the volleyball team. And you were quite proud of Osamu for that. It was nice to see other people recognising his talents. He'd been humble enough about it, too. Atsumu was another matter, but you'd developed something of a talent for tuning him out. So long as he wasn't insulting you directly, you could ignore him quite well. Life was much better for it.

The only bad thing about Osamu joining the volleyball team was the fact that he now hung out with them. Which wasn't a problem, per say; you were welcome to join, and they were all cordial enough. No, the issue was that sometimes spoke about girls. And nothing was more infuriating than hearing teenage boys advise one another on how to impress girls.

"You're saying I should just… ignore her?" One of the second years frowned at one of the older boys.

"Yeah," the third year nodded. "If you ignore her, she'll get all anxious about it, and she'll keep thinkin' about you."

"Huh," the second year nodded, blinking slowly. "Isn't that kind of… I dunno… mean?"

"Very," you mumbled.

"Huh?"

"If you do that, you'll seem like an asshole. Girls don't like guys like that," you sighed, head rested on Osamu's knee as you looked up at the sky.

Hanging out with the volleyball team wasn't high on your list of favourite activities. But, you had nothing better to do.

"I thought girls liked 'bad boys'," one of the third years laughed.

"I don't wanna make any generalisations," you shrugged. "But it's better if you're friends first. So you've gotta be nice to her."

You had absolutely no experience to speak of. But it seemed like the right thing to say.

"You're only saying that because you've got a thing for Osamu."

You hadn't planned on a murder today. But Suna had just changed your plans.

"Do not," you mumbled, shutting your eyes. Don't bite back, you thought to yourself. If you bite back, they'll just tease you more.

You'd actually thought about it, once. You were sixteen, after all, and ready to yearn. But, as hard as you'd tried to convince yourself that you felt something more for Osamu had fallen flat. The thought of kissing him made you laugh, when it should've made you blush. You hadn't mentioned that to him, though. Having a girl laugh at the thought of intimacy with you was probably at least a little humiliating, regardless of who she was.

"You're lying on him as we speak," one of the team snickered.

"Because I'm tired." You opened one eye to take a glance at the team. You took a moment to visualise punching them all in the face, one by one. It was almost rhapsodic. "You all suck."

"You're not even good enough for 'Samu, anyway."

Oh. Oh.

You bolted upright, glare immediately honing in on him. "Excuse me?"

Atsumu raised an eyebrow at you. "So you think you're good enough for him?"

You opened your mouth to reply. Fuck, you didn't have anything snappy to say. Was strangling him out of the question? Oh God, you could feel your face growing redder by the second. You needed to do something–

"Oi, don't use me as an excuse to make fun of her," Osamu sighed. "You don't really think that highly of me."

"That's cold, 'Samu," Atsumu grimaced. "You really think I'd be okay with you datin' this cow?"

"What did you just call me?"

"Do you like it more when I call you a pig?"

"What on earth gave you that idea, you bastard?" 

Osamu rolled his eyes as the tirade began. Not a day went by without something like this happening. Atsumu said something contrarian, and you exploded like a little firecracker. You weren't the sort to start fights, usually. But there was something about Atsumu that always managed to get under your skin.

He'd hoped that finally entering high school would've taught Atsumu how to behave. He should've known to be wiser than to indulge himself in some wishful thinking.

"Does he always provoke her?" Aran asked, frowning.

Osamu nodded. "Uh huh. He gets a kick out of it."

"Hmm," Aran nodded, "knowing everything I do about Atsumu, that makes perfect sense."

"I keep tellin' her not to respond. It just eggs him on."

"Well, I guess it's kinda hard not to," Aran shrugged.

Osamu sighed. "Y'know, sometimes I just wish they'd get along."

Aran laughed, shaking his head. "Sorry man, can't see that happening any time soon."

--------

Being a teenager fucking sucked.

Getting dumped by an admittedly shitty boyfriend might've been some kind of rite of passage, but that didn't make it hurt any less. You'd tried to count your blessings, small as they may be. At least he hadn't dumped you over text, right?

Maybe it would've been better if he had dumped you over text. That would've given you a few hours at least to pull yourself together. Instead, he'd pulled you aside just before class had started, telling you that he was done with you. He hadn't even given you the chance to speak.

And then you'd had to walk into class and pretend everything was okay. A whole school day was far too long to try and pretend you had it together.

Behind the gym was the only place you'd managed to find the silence in which to mourn. You would've gone and cried in the bathroom if you could, but there was always someone in there. You didn't want to make a scene. And surely, nobody would come behind the gym.

"Oi."

Oh, fuck.

"What do you want?" You mumbled, lacking the courage to look at him.

"I was just tryin' to clear my head before practice," he said. "What're you doin' out here?”

"None of your business," you sniffed, your shoulders hunched and your fists scrunching the fabric of your skirt.

He sat down.

No. No, no, no.

"So," he cleared his throat, not quite looking at you. "I heard about… your ex."

"Great," you sniffed, rubbing your nose with the back of your hand. It'd already reached Atsumu? How much did he know?

"Are you… alright?" His voice was quiet, unsure.

"What do you think?" You hissed, drawing your knees up to your chest.

"Sorry," he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. "I just, uh… you've seemed kinda off today."

You shot him a look.

"Yeah, yeah, I know, I just…" He sighed, hanging his head.

You pressed your lips together, trying to sift through the jumble of thoughts in your mind. It wasn't that you'd expected your relationship with that asshole to last. Far from it. You just hadn't expected it to go… like this. Not after he'd taken so much from you.

"It's just that–" The words escaped from you with a hitched breath. "It's just that… I gave him a lot, you know?" You took a deep breath. You weren't about to admit everything to fucking Atsumu of all people. But you just wanted to talk. To put the pain into words. "And he didn't have the decency to… to treat me with respect. He… He…"

"Did he hurt you?" Atsumu's tone was sharp; sharper than you'd ever heard it. He still wasn't looking directly at you. If anything, that was a small comfort.

"Not physically or anything," you shook your head, relaxing your fists. "It's just that he… he treated me like shit. And… and I liked him more than I should've, I know that, but…"

You made a valiant effort at swallowing the lump in your throat. "It just fucking sucks, you know?"

You don't know why you're telling him all this. You'd already said more than you'd wanted to. But damn, did it feel good to get it off your chest.

Did you seem a bit pathetic? Fuck it. Atsumu already thought poorly of you. Letting him see you like this wouldn't be a massive hit to your pride.

And, to his credit, he's listening. You think.

"I think–" You sniffed, taking a deep breath. This was the worst part of all. "I think he's been hooking up with Eiko. Or, at least, he's been trying to."

"What, really?" Oh, he'd looked pissed. You'd never seen this amount vitriol in his face before. Not even when he was arguing with you.

"Yeah." You nodded weakly. You knew it probably wasn't Eiko's fault. And even if she had 'seduced' him, he'd still chosen to dump you over it. You just didn't have the energy to direct your anger at anyone but him.

"Fuckin' piece of shit," he grumbled. You could see him clenching his fists. You'd never thought he'd get this angry on your behalf. "I'm gonna kill him."

"Don't." You nearly reached over to grab his arm. But, you didn't. "Please, I just… I just want this to pass, okay? I don't want to create a mess."

Atsumu stared at you for one long moment. You knew he was weighing up whether or not he should listen to you. Then, he sighed. "Fine."

"Thank you," you mumbled, fiddling with the hem of your shirt. You didn't know what to say, now.

"Well," he cleared his throat, finally meeting your gaze, "if he tries anythin' with you, lemme know, okay?"

You blinked, your own brow just as furrowed as his.

"He's a pig," he grunted, "and… and you deserve better than that, 'kay?"

You stared at him. Had those words really just come from his mouth? "I thought I was the pig."

Atsumu said nothing. He doesn't know what to say. You'd never really interacted like this before. Without the barbs.

He wanted to say that, even though he makes fun of you all the time, you matter. Frankly, he doesn't really know what he'd do if you weren't there for him to pick on. He's used to you being around, you know? That bred at least a little fondness. And the thought that someone had genuinely, actually hurt you pissed him off.

But he doesn't say any of that. Because he doesn't know how to. Hell, he doesn't even know what that means.

"I, uh," he cleared his throat, standing to his feet. "I've gotta get back to practice."

He wants to tell you to text him if you need anything. But, he doesn't think that'll be very comforting, coming from him. So, he walked away.

"Hey, uh, Miya?"

He stopped in his tracks, just as surprised as you were. You never called him by his name.

"Could you, uh… could you keep this between us?" You asked, your throat alarmingly dry. "I'd rather 'Samu didn't know about this. I'm worried that… that he might do something stupid."

Atsumu looked over his shoulder at you. It's a small moment, a quiet one.

He just shrugs. "'Kay."

The next time you're watching them play, you're not just cheering for Osamu.

--------

It's over. Finally.

And you couldn't be more relieved.

Of course, you were going to miss your friends. And of course, all the changes that were about to come your way were fucking terrifying.

But high school sucked. And being a teenager sucked. You couldn't wait to move on from all of that. To make a real person of yourself. And you were going to Tokyo. Tokyo. You'd always lived in Hyogo; the thought of living somewhere so vastly different was downright exhilarating.

But before all that, you had to survive your goodbyes. You'd made it through the graduation ceremony well enough; in truth, you'd zoned out a little.

But now you were all outside, and it was finally time to say goodbye for good. And quite frankly, you hadn't expected to be so emotional. Honestly, you were just proud of yourself for keeping it together. Nobody else was crying – yet – and you'd be damned if you were the first person to lose composure.

You'd managed to say goodbye to most of your friends with a smile, and you'd even bid farewell to your beloved literature teacher without getting too miserable. Surely, there wouldn't be too many people left to see.

A flash of grey and yellow at your right.

Oh no. You had to speak to Osamu. That'd do it.

"Oi!" You called out, hurdling towards him.

Osamu turned around, raising a hand at you. Atsumu glanced in your direction, but he made no effort to greet you. Asshole.

"C'mere," Osamu smiled, opening his arms up.

You threw yourself into them, wrapping your arms around his neck as you supported yourself on your tip-toes. He smiled, chuckling in your ear. Good God, you were going to miss him.

"We did it," you smiled, squeezing him tight.

"Somehow." It was subtle, but you could feel the joy in his voice.

"Good job on getting into TSUJI," you beamed, dropping down as he released you from his grasp.

"Thanks," he smiled, reaching a hand up and ruffling your hair. "University of Tokyo’s nothin' to sniff at, you know."

You blushed, despite yourself. "Yeah, well…"

"Stop bein’ so humble," he said, punching you gently in the shoulder. "Make me proud, you hear?"

"You too."

And that's enough. That's all you need to say. He wasn't big on words, and that was okay. It had always been okay. You knew that you guys would stay friends. Even if everyone else fell away, if you drifted from all these people you held close… you knew you'd have 'Samu.

You heard a voice calling you. You straightened your shoulders, looking up at Osamu resolutely. "I'll see you this weekend, yeah?"

"Sure," he shrugged, nodding at you.

You smiled back, feeling that persistent sting at the corners of your eyes. Your eyes flicked over to Atsumu for just a moment. He'd turned away from you once you'd thrown your arms around Osamu, opting instead to speak to some of the first years. You wondered, for one short moment, if you should try and talk to him.

Nah.

You swallowed, turning around to walk towards whoever had called your name. If you spent any more time standing still, you might not be able to hold back the tears.

You felt a tug on your sleeve, pulling you downwards.

"Oi."

You'd know that voice anywhere. "You're so rude." You shot him a glare, straightening yourself out.

Things had mellowed out a little since that day behind the gym. You wouldn't go so far as to say you were friends; he was still abrasive, and you were still struck by the urge to punch him in the face whenever he came into your field of vision.

But his words had been a little gentler. Insults abounded, but he seemed a bit more mindful. Like he was checking your mood before pushing your buttons.

Or maybe you were just imagining it. Maybe you just wanted that weird little moment between the two of you to mean something.

"What do you want, Miya?" You sighed, after a long silence.

He'd just been standing there, completely silent. He hadn't even bit back. His lips were pursed as he stared at nothing in particular. What an earth is he thinking about? You wondered.

Then, finally, he looked at you. "Wanna live together?"

You froze. Why was he so… like this? "Excuse me?"

He shrugged, hands in his pockets and an obnoxiously bored look on his face. "That's easier than findin' a roommate, right? We already know each other, and we'll both be in Tokyo."

No congratulations. No words of kindness. Nothing. Just straight to business. You weren't sure if that or the offer he'd just made was more baffling.

You bit your lip. Could there be anything worse than living with this fool? Maybe you could end up with a shitty roommate – but he'd also be a shitty roommate. How much worse could a total stranger be?

"Hey. Dickhead."

You jumped, looking up to meet his eyes. "Oh, uh… Let me think about it."

"'Kay."

And then, he was gone.

'Kay? 'Kay? That's all he'd had to say to you? After asking you to live with him? How'd he even come up with that idea? Had Osamu told him to do it? Oh, maybe it was his parents. They were quite fond of you, after all. Perhaps they thought you could keep their son in line or something.

But that wasn't your responsibility! You didn't want it to be your responsibility!  

You shook your head. No, you weren't going to let this dominate your thoughts. You would worry about Atsumu later. For now, you just had to focus on getting through the rest of today.

--------

Your reasons for living with Miya Atsumu were simple.

One: you'd avoid each other. Surely, even if you were in the same apartment, you'd give each other a wide enough berth to ensure some sense of privacy.

Two: you could live like an absolute pig and it wouldn't matter. Who cared if you didn't do your dishes that evening? It only affected him. And fuck him.

Three: you'd heard one too many horror stories about friendships being torn to pieces because of shit like this. You didn't want to risk that.

Four: you didn't want to live with a stranger.

Simple as that.

And those were the four reasons you'd told Osamu, in a paltry attempt to justify yourself. He'd been sceptical, of course – and he'd said, without an ounce of goodwill, "you don't know just how bad he is to live with" – but he hadn't tried to stop you.

But one semester was already over and done with. And things were fine.

Honestly, you were still surprised that he'd even asked this of you. But, his reasons were his own, and frankly, you didn't care what they were.

Yes, he lived like a pig. And God, you'd heard him in bed one too many times because apparently he doesn't know how to be quiet.

"It's not my fault you're not gettin' any," he'd say. You always wanted to bite back and say that you were getting more than enough, thank you very much. You were just polite enough to be quiet. But, you always decided – quite wisely – that it wasn't an argument worth getting into.

But, there's something about the freedom of simply not caring if your roommate would get mad at you for some stupid mistake that made it all worth it. You were allowed to fuck up, to make all those silly mistakes every did in that transitory stage from high school to adulthood. Nothing you could do would ruin an important friendship.

You got to learn how to be a decent person without the consequences.

"Would ya mind if I had some friends over?"

Believe it or not, but this was a big step for him. A few weeks ago, and he would've just brought them over, your feelings be damned.

"When?"

"Thursday evenin'."

"What for?"

"Just catchin' up," he shrugged.

"Is this you asking me if I'm okay with it, or is it you asking me to get out of the house?" You raised an eyebrow at him, stirring your tea.

He flashed you a grin.

You rolled your eyes. "Really?"

"Come on," he propped his chin up on his fist, beaming at you from across the kitchen counter. "Surely, you don't wanna be around when there's a buncha guys in the apartment. Do you?"

"So you're going to bring them over regardless of what I say?"

Nevermind. This wasn't a step for him at all.

"Essentially," he shrugged.

You groaned, lolling your head back.

"Can't you just go to the library or somethin'?" He pouted.

"I don't have any assignments to work on," you frowned. "It's literally only week two."

"Aren't you always tellin' me it's better to get ahead early?" He raised an eyebrow at him.

You narrowed your eyes at him, biting the inside of your cheek. "Week two's overkill."

"Well, just… do your weekly readings or somethin'."

"I'd rather do them from the comfort of my own bed."

Atsumu groaned, running a hand through his hair. "Look, I already told 'em they could come over."

Oh, you were so ready to throttle him.

"Can't you just… make yourself busy?" He shrugged. "I don't want you to be uncomfortable or anythin'."

"You should've thought about that before inviting them over," you growled. "Shit, what are you planning on getting up to, anyway?"

He shrugged. "It'll just stress you out."

"Miya, what the fuck–"

"One of the guys thinks you're hot."

You blinked. He really knew how to be blunt, didn't he?

"And?"

"I can't promise he won't try'n hit on you."

"Yeah, and?"

Atsumu shrugged. "I dunno. I just… thought you might be a bit uncomfortable with that."

"How does he even know what I look like?"

"I showed 'em a photo."

Oh God. Of course he did.

"Why on earth would you do that?"

"I mentioned that my roommate's a chick. They wanted to see."

"Miya," you sighed, gripping your own hair. "What – and I cannot stress this enough – the fuck?"

"It didn't seem like a big deal at the time," he tilted his head at you, smiling. "I mean, I'm just as surprised at you that someone finds you attractive–"

"Shut up."

"– but I just thought you should know. Clear things up before they get too awkward, you know?"

No, you didn't.

But, you didn't really want to have this conversation anymore.

"Fine," you sighed, turning to pour the rest of your tea down the sink. For some reason, you didn't really want it anymore. "I'll find something to do."

Shouldn't be too hard. Maybe a bar or a pub would have a student's night. Maybe one of your friends would be free. There was always something to do in the city. 

"I owe you one," Atsumu grinned. You had half a mind to knock his teeth out then and there.

"You really do," you sighed, rinsing your cup out.

"Already got something in mind."

"Sounds like there's a catch," you mumbled, looking over your shoulder at him.

"No catch," he held his hands up, giving you what you assumed was his best smile.

"Has anyone ever told you you've got an untrustworthy face, Miya?"

"All the time," he grinned. "Nah, but really. No catch."

You titled your head at him, waiting for a proposal of some kind.

"I'll buy you pizza."

You scoffed. "Really? That's your consolation?"

"I'll get you the expensive shit," he shrugged. "Friday night. Promise."

"Can you even afford anything that's not from the cheapskate menu?"

"Can you?"

You shrugged at that one.

"Nah, I promise, it'll be good," he sighed. "I'll make it worth it, 'kay?"

--------

Friday nights were for Atsumu.

You weren't quite sure how it started. Something to do with him being exhausted from volleyball practice. Something to do with you being exhausted from university. Something else about how neither of you had any energy left to go out and socialise.

Whatever it was, you'd settled into a comfortable rhythm. Friday night, pizza, and a shitty movie.

These days, you actually liked having him around. Not that you were going to admit to it, though. No, you'd rather die than do anything like that.

You weren't quite sure why you'd suddenly adjusted to him. Was it because you'd known him for so long? Even if he was an absolute nuisance, he was familiar. Someone you could be a goblin around, without having to worry about him wanting to end your friendship over it. No, you'd been involved with each other far too long for that.

And honestly, it was kind of nice to have someone to relax around. While you'd managed to find some people you clicked with at university… making friends was hard. There was no-one you could be an absolute pig with yet.

So, Atsumu would do for now.

You'd just finished watching Neil Breen's Fateful Findings. It had been surprisingly easy to find a copy with Japanese subtitles; that being said, you didn't feel it had given you any clarity as to what was actually going on. Atsumu had loved it, though. He'd already tried throwing some of the quotes back at you. That was sure to make him harder to live with for at least the next week or two.

"Wanna play Smash?" He was sprawled out on the couch, looking at you with a painfully cocky expression.

"Absolutely not."

"Worried I'll beat your ass again?" Did he have to smirk after every second thing he said?

You glared at him. "Wanna say that to my face?"

He grinned, turning to face you head on. "Worried I'll beat your ass again?"

"I was having an off day," you mumbled.

"Wanna prove that, or…"

You bit the inside of your cheek. If you did play, there were two possible outcomes. The first was that you won. If you won, it'd shut him up, and you could go on with your pride more or less intact. The second was that you lost. And you weren't quite sure if you could handle his ego.

"I'll prove it to you right now," you snapped. "On this couch, with my fists."

He blinked at you.

"You're going down for good, Miya."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," you nodded. "I'm gonna make you squirm like the worm you are."

He laughed. A real, genuine laugh. The sort that relieved all tension from his body, erasing any hint of his usual insufferable expression.

He was actually kind of handsome.

You'd always known he had a nice body – you weren't blind, you were just too proud to admit it. And it'd gotten even nicer since graduation. Practice paid off, it seemed.

And there was something appealing about his relaxed air. About how he didn't seem to take life too seriously. It almost made him enjoyable to be around.  

Maybe that's why so many girls were interested in him.

Wait, no. They only liked him because they hadn't spoken to him yet.

Oh, right. Girls.

Something shifted in your chest. Something you had never noticed before. Something so quiet, so understated that you hadn't even realised it had made its way in there.

Oh God, you thought, what the fuck is happening to me?

Whatever it was, you didn't like it.

Miya Atsumu was hot. That, unfortunately, was a fact you were now uncomfortably aware of.

"Oi." A hand was being waved in front of your face. You jumped. "Pay attention, you pig."

Oh, nope. There he was. There's the Atsumu you were used to.

"You're a fucking bastard," you mumbled, shrinking into yourself.

You're weren't quite sure what you were saying. You'd just flicked onto autopilot. But you knew that your words were comfortable, familiar. Little insults that a child would throw around. Anything to stave off whatever that weird stirring in your stomach was.

--------

In many ways, realising Miya Atsumu was actually kind of hot ruined your life.

Were you being over-dramatic? Probably. But had things changed? Definitely. To a large extent, it was on you; glances stolen when he wasn't looking, your mind wandering to places it really shouldn't.

But he'd been acting up, too. Standing far too close to you when you were in the kitchen – close enough that you could feel his chest against your back, reaching over your head to grab a cup while damn-near draping his body over you, walking around without a shirt on in the common area…

One time, when you'd dressed up all nice for a friend's birthday, he'd brazenly checked you out. He hadn't said anything – he'd just stared. When you asked him what was wrong, he just shrugged and told you to have fun. And, of course, he'd smirked at you. You'd been ready and willing to kill him.  

Whenever you were on the couch, he always seemed to reach over you and take the remote himself instead of simply asking you to hand it to him. And sure, that wasn't all too weird – but he tended to get really close, and catch your eye for just a moment with that little smirk on his lips. Each and every time, you felt like you were going to explode.

You'd taken to sticking pillows between you on the couch, because you wouldn't be surprised if he decided to lay his head on your lap or some shit on a whim.

Maybe he was messing with you, but this sort of behaviour wasn't totally un-Atsumu. You'd seen him act like this with people before. It's just that you two had never really been close enough to warrant it. Was it just a symptom of the fact that you guys were kind of friends now? Was he just treating you like everyone else?

But some part of you was even angrier at that. You didn't want to be treated like everyone else.

God, you felt stupid for even feeling like that. Especially when you'd had an awkward morning chat with a few of his bedfellows – where each and every time, you couldn't help but marvel at the fact that he was punching so far above his weight. How on earth were people this beautiful paying attention to him?

That was starting to make more and more sense recently.

You tried not to think about it.

But that was getting harder and harder to you. You'd been kind of lonely. Some quiet part of you wanted a serious relationship; someone to come home to of an evening, to relax and unwind with. You'd even been actively looking. Not that you were about to admit that to anyone.

But men are shit. Especially ones in their early twenties.

But as resolutely as you believed that, there you were, preparing for yet another date. You'd have a particularly messy string of disasters recently; men who did little more than stare at your tits, men who had nothing interesting to say, men who thought that being an asshole was a personality…

Tonight, you hoped, would be different. Sure, you'd met this guy in an econ elective – you'd needed something easy to bring your GPA up – and that certainly wasn't a point in his favour. But, he'd taken in interest in you, despite the fact you'd never really spoken before. A few months ago, you might've turned him down. But surely he'd be better than the drivel Tinder unfailingly turned out.

Only problem was that he wanted to go somewhere chic. Somewhere fancy. Somewhere that was, quite frankly, out of your comfort zone.

"Another date?" Atsumu scoffed, leaning on the doorframe to the bathroom.

"What's it to you?" You grumbled, leant in close to the bathroom mirror. You couldn't get your makeup to look how you wanted it to; everything just seemed a little wonky, a little uneven. And your foundation hadn't settled nicely into your face. It just sat there, a tacky second skin you just wanted to slough off.

"Nothin'," Atsumu shrugged. "You've just never gone out on a Friday before."

Oh. That's right.

You shrugged, biting your cheek. "It's the only day he could get a reservation." In truth, you hadn't even thought about it.

"Same guy as before?"

You shook your head. You couldn't actually remember the last guy you'd told Atsumu about. The amount of bad dates you'd been on was getting embarrassing. "Nah. This one's a classy bastard."

He snorted. "You're kiddin', right?"

You shook your head. "I'm going to have to let him pay for the date because I genuinely don't think I can afford it."

"Yikes," he chuckled. "You know, I never really took you for a gold digger."

You had half a mind to throw your mascara at him. "Shut up."

"If you keep faffin', you'll be late."

Shit, He was right. You checked your phone. 5:25. You had five minutes to leave. You picked it up and made your way to the door, ready to squeeze past Atsumu. You turned, dashing back to the mirror and poking at your hair.

"Stop worryin'," he chuckled, waving a hand at you as he began to walk away. "You look nice."

Those words stuck with you all the way to the restaurant. They were so simple, so innocuous, but… They were touching, coming from him.

And when your date was talking to you about something you simply didn't find interesting, you couldn't get that look on Atsumu's face out of your head.

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The date was a veritable disaster. Possibly the worst you'd had in a while.

First of all, the guy was a total asshole. And not just the Atsumu kind – no, this one was rich. He'd had his entire life handed to him on a silver platter, and it showed. You could tolerate it, at first. But when he'd literally said, "I don't think the poor should be allowed to vote," you knew you couldn't stick around.

Second of all, you couldn't stop thinking of Atsumu and his damn smirk.

You'd gotten up without even giving your date an explanation. You'd stormed out of the restaurant in a rage, resolute on walking all the way home.

Why did it always turn out this way? The guys were either assholes, or far too self-centred for a proper relationship. If they were neither of those things, there was just no chemistry between the two of you.

God, were you the problem? Were good people just not attracted to you?

What were you supposed to do?

To top it all off, it began to rain when you were just halfway home.

As you slammed the door, you looked as awful as you felt.

Atsumu flinched, sprawled out in front of the television. He sat up a little straighter, looking at you from over the back of the couch.

"Yikes!" He scoffed. "You look like shit!"

Your breath caught in your throat. No. No, you weren't going to take this from him right now. Not tonight.

"Y'know, you wouldn't've gotten rained off if you'd just stayed in," he chuckled, propelling himself off the couch and ambling his way over to you. "What a waste…"

He came to a stop in front of you, hands stuffed in the pockets of his sweatpants. He had that look on his face; that insufferable smirk he whipped out whenever he'd beaten you in something menial. That smirk that, in any other circumstance, would've made you want to punch him. But tonight, it just made you want to cry.

"You haven't said anythin'," he frowned, tilting his head at you. "You okay?"

You wanted to lie. You wanted to tell him that it was fine, that the mascara dappling your cheeks was just the result of the rain.

But you couldn't. You couldn't get the words out of your mouth.

You took a deep breath.

You stopped breathing. His arms were around you, pulling you into his chest. It was rough, the embrace of someone who wasn't used to tenderness. There's this strange stiffness to it, an admission that he doesn't really know what he's doing. But as he rests his head on your chin, you couldn't be more grateful for his efforts. Your hands found their way to his chest, balled up and tense.

"Hey," he mumbled, "hey. It's going to be okay."

You looked up at him, your throat sore from holding back a sob and eyes stinging from unshed tears.

Maybe it's because you're emotional. Or because you're tired. Or maybe it's because you're lonely, and he said a few nice things to you today.

You kissed him.

It's hot, open-mouthed as your fists grasped his shirt, pulling him down to meet you.

Your head is swimming; what the fuck is happening?

 His arms tensed around you, his lips moving to meet yours.

This is what you want. This is what you've wanted for a while now. You hadn't wanted to go on all those shitty dates. You hadn't wanted to waste your time with men you didn't care about. What you'd wanted was–

He froze.

So did you.

His hands are holding your forearms firmly as he stepped back, an inscrutable expression on his face.

"No, baby." He shook his head. "Not like this."

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You flew down the hall, slamming your bedroom door.

You sank to the floor, arms finding their way around your knees. You didn't want to cry. You didn't want to dignify this evening with that. You weren't going to pity your own shitty mistakes.

Fuck the date. That wasn't even the worst part of the night.

You'd just kissed Miya fucking Atsumu. Things were finally going okay between the two of you. He'd been treating you like a human being.

And now you'd ruined it.

#haikyuu x reader #atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x reader #haikyuu imagines #atsumu scenarios #atsumu imagines #haikyuuwritersnet #IDK WHAT TAGS ARE #also i can't believe i'm putting in this much effort for atsumu #mayhaps i enjoy him a little #ANYWAY here's part one of my labour of love #2nd part's up tomorrow!