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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 6 months

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go for it! ; yuuta okkotsu

synopsis; yuuta’s been crushing on you ever since the first group project you had together, but he’s too nervous to confess. luckily, he has some over-eager friends willing to help! step 1: ask for your number!

word count; 7.4k

contents; yuuta okkotsu/reader, gn!reader, university au, yuuta majors in creative writing and writes poetry in his spare time <3, no curses au, yuuta is a cutiepie, he’s also a loserboy, pining and longing, one-sided love, maki inumaki and panda are wingmen (but not very good ones), fluffy vibes, gojo makes a guest appearance (stay safe), literally just yuuta being whipped for like 7k words straight

a/n; im gonna have to edit this a lot i think….. but for now it should be fine :3 i love the boy!!

”you’re staring. again.”

yuuta flinches. a jolt overtakes him, running through his body, and the pen he’d been absently writing with slips from his fingers. it tumbles down to the ground with a soft thunk.

gazing up at the shadow towering over him, his eyes are wide, a little flustered; like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. like he’s expecting a smack on the head from the person in front of him.

— it’s maki.

and she looks displeased, lips pursed and a single eyebrow raised. unimpressed, as she stares him down — the same way he’d been looking at you just a second ago.

”they’re gonna think you’re a creep if they catch you, you know,” she sighs, shifting from one foot to another. carrying her bass in a case on her back.

”maki, c’mon,” comes from behind her, an even larger figure strolling up to the pair. grinning brightly, fluffy hair tousled by the afternoon breeze. ”cut him some slack!”

”salmon,” a third voice joins in. inumaki’s got some green paint staining the sleeve of his hoodie, and his fingers are dirtied with charcoal.

his closest friends, all joining him on the table they usually frequent on campus. right next to a giant tree, casting a pleasantly cool shade and obscuring the irritating brightness of the sun.

maki, headstrong and resilient. infamously rude. a music major, primarily, though yuuta knows she has more than a couple minors. if you pay attention, you can see her almost everywhere on campus, and she always does well on exams. confident, enough so that just being around her makes yuuta feel a little more secure in himself.

panda, a big kid with a big heart, always wearing monochrome clothes. ‘panda’ can’t possibly be his real name, though yuuta’s never found the courage to ask. truthfully, he isn’t sure panda even has a major, or goes to this university at all — but nobody’s mentioned it yet, and he doubts they ever will.

and then inumaki, the quiet kid, always helpful and kind. a little teasing, too. selectively mute, speaking exclusively in rice ball ingredients, but yuuta has already begun adjusting to the thought behind his phrases. an art student with remarkable talent, from sculptures to comics to paintings. he mostly spends his lectures playing games on his phone, though. and he's the kindest guy yuuta knows.

his beloved friends. the reason he can smile through each day, even when it’s a little difficult.

and maki’s right, he knows she is. if you were to lock eyes with him, and realize he’d been glancing over at you for the past ten minutes… god, he doesn’t even want to think about it. you’d be weirded out for sure, wouldn’t you?

but yuuta just can’t help it. you’re far too radiant to ever look away from, smile much too pretty.

you’re just sitting there, laughing and talking with your friends, the same as any other day. comparing hand sizes with miwa, or leaning over to whisper in mai’s ear. snorting over something momo said, or trying to understand the code kokochi’s fiddling with on his laptop. just being yourself, with people you’re close to.

and yuuta desperately wishes he could be among them. wishes he could see your honeyed smile up close, hear the melodic lilt of your laughter, breathe in the lingering scent of your shampoo. he wishes he could speak to you without stuttering, without tripping over his feet — hang out with you outside of class. just something small, like studying together, or grabbing a bite to eat.

he wishes he could get to know you.

yuuta thinks he must seem like a fool, to be so affected by your mere presence. everything comes to him so easily, when he looks at you; the pitter patter of his heart, his sweaty hands, the whirlwind of butterflies swirling in his chest. even just the way you twirl your hair or chew on your pencil is so mesmerizing.

so all he can do is stare, hopeless, a moth to a flame. basking in the warmth of your gaze, directed at your friends.

hoping one day, maybe… that warmth will fall upon him, as well.

(maybe one day.)

”hellooo? earth to yuuta!”

”see? he’s hopeless.”

”mentaiko…”

”inumaki’s right. he’s a man in love!”

”he’s a boy with a stupid crush,” maki scoffs, picking at a piece of lint on her tank top. ”and we have a study session we need to get done. the exam’s next week, remember?”

exam.

yuuta shoots up, wasting no time in grabbing his backpack and slinging it over his shoulder. the ring hanging around his neck dangles with the sudden movement, and he clutches onto it.

”ah — right!” he squeaks, apologetic. ”sorry, it completely slipped my mind —”

before his mind can begin to overthink every action he’s taken these past few hours, a hand reaches out to pat his shoulder. pat, pat. reassuring and stabilizing.

inumaki smiles at him. yuuta can’t see his mouth, from behind the fabric of his hoodie, but his eyes crinkle softly; and it’s enough to put yuuta’s heart at ease.

”don’t apologize,” maki says. simple, straightforward. ”let’s just get going. i need to do better than naoya did last time.”

”you’re still mad about that, huh?”

”he only got a higher score because i wasn’t on top of my game,” she grumbles, digging her nails into the pockets of her baseball jacket. ”he doesn’t even like music. he’s just taking the course to piss me off. grown ass man.”

a chuckle slips from yuuta’s lips. the warm breeze ruffles his hair, and he holds onto the strap of his backpack, following closely behind as his friends begin to leave. sending one final glance at your figure, over by a table near the apricot trees.

and that’s when it happens.

— he looks over at you, and finds that your eyes are already on him.

a moment passes.

while yuuta struggles to find his breathing, your lips curl up into a soft smile. then you raise your hand, waving to him cheerily, teeth peeking out from between your lips. he can see it clearly, even with the distance between you.

a smile that glimmers like a jewel, in the light of the sun.

yuuta feels his lips part, mouth falling open ever so slightly. but he waves back, afraid to take too long, unable to stop the pounding of his heartbeat — smiling giddily, like a schoolgirl tripping over her feet.

his friends just watch, wholly unimpressed.

”do you think he’d notice if i threw a rock at him?”

”maki!”

”what do you like about them, anyway?”

the question is unexpected. yuuta has to do a double take, eyes straying from his excerpt of sappho 31 up to the person seated across from him. tapping her pencil on the edge of the table, resting her sharp jaw on the heel of her palm.

”huh?”

”them. your crush,” maki reiterates. ”what caught your attention? there’s got to be something, yeah?”

”oh?” panda chirps, leaning back in his chair. a teasing grin playing at his lips. “i thought you didn’t care about his silly little crush.”

”i don’t.” a huff pushes past her lips, hands reaching to fix her lazy ponytail, hair tie dangling from between her teeth. ”i’m just bored. i already know all this, anyway.”

”tuna mayo.”

”oh, are you curious too, inumaki?”

”well, out with it. why them?”

yuuta blinks. once, then twice — mind spinning in circles, as his friends await his answer.

and, truthfully, yuuta can’t pinpoint the exact moment he felt it. that burst of joy, that tinge of excitement — the puppy love that rika always spoke of. she was always good at verbalizing her emotions, in a way yuuta never could.

(he always knew he loved her, but he could never put it into words.)

and he knows that he likes you. he knows because every word you speak has him stumbling over what to say, because even a single smile sent his way makes the world feel so gentle. he knows because he’d probably throw himself into incoming traffic, if you just asked him to.

but he can’t put it into words. not spoken ones, anyhow — putting them on paper is one thing, the one thing he can do. writing out his love for you in similes and metaphors, sonettes and alexandrines. it’s how he copes with everything; writing and writing, til his fingers start to hurt. he can compare you to a dandelion, to the way cicadas buzz in the light of the sun. the scent of childhood. but it’s harder to speak it out loud, to turn the feelings into sounds — that’s maki’s specialty, not his.

why does yuuta like you?

he remembers it clear as day, but still can’t pinpoint the exact second he fell headfirst into love. it was more of a creeping realization, something soft and sweet trickling through his veins. that sinking feeling, how helplessly he fell for you.

it all started with a pencil.

in hindsight, it’s a little silly. but yuuta can’t bring himself to think back to that moment with anything other than fondness.

(your smile was just so bright.)

that day had been a disaster. he was nervous, painfully so, afraid of every single new thing he came across during his first week of uni. scatterbrained, running on almost no sleep, unsure of where to put his feet as he walked.

honestly — what kind of trainwreck forgets their pen and notebook during their very first workshop?

all that anxiety, all those hours spent overthinking, and he still couldn’t manage something so small. in the moment, he almost panicked; sitting with you, a total stranger, wholly unprepared for such a simple assignment. read a couple excerpts, analyze them on paper. all yuuta could do was stare blankly at his lap, frozen, throat dry. hands cold with sweat.

but then you smiled.

”did you forget your notebook?” you had asked, voice set to a soothing tilt. calm, not angry or impatient.

”ah — yeah, i, um…” yuuta could only swallow thickly, fidgeting with the strings of his hoodie. ”i’m sorry. i haven't been sleeping well, so —”

”hey, hey, it’s fine!” you chuckled, teeth peeking out from between your lips. ”i totally get it. i almost forgot my laptop at yesterday’s lecture. we can just share!”

then you pushed your notebook closer to him, inviting him in. moving your chair a little, angling it towards him. but all yuuta could think of was how pretty your smile looked, how kind your presence felt.

”here you go,” you grinned, snapping him out of his trance. ”you can use this.”

a pencil. yuuta took it from your opened palm, gazing at it in wonder. an orange-coloured, halloween-themed pumpkin design. completely out of season. the tiny pumpkin was cute, though.

such a casual kindness. but maybe that's exactly why it made his heart flutter so deeply; as if you did it without even really thinking. as if kindness comes easy, to you.

that’s probably how it began. by the time the workshop ended, yuuta knew that he liked you, and he knew that he wanted nothing more than to be your friend.

(subconsciously, his fingers tap at the zipper of his backpack. the pumpkin pen is still with him, after you waved him off with a smooth you can keep it, if you want. yuuta has found that he always writes best when he uses it.)

”well?”

maki’s voice snaps him out of his trip down memory lane, and he stumbles for something to say. what does he like about you?

squirming, yuuta feels his face heat up, as he thinks of you. all he can see is your smile, the kindness in the tilt of your voice. the brightness of the grin you sent his way. warm and saccharine, like the sun peeking out after a downpour — when the streets smell like honeydew and rain.

”they’re just… so cool,” he finally sighs, a dreamy look smoothing over his face. ”they’re so nice. and their smile is so beautiful. they’re so smart, too — god, you should see the way they write — everything about them is just…”

yuuta blushes a deep red, smiling even still. lovesick. ”.. so, so wonderful.”

maki freezes in the midst of the tapping of her pencil. panda stops kicking at the foot of the table. and inumaki looks away from his phone, messing up his full combo.

a moment of silence passes. the study hall grows quiet, and yuuta looks down at his lap; suddenly embarrassed. sipping from his little carton of apple juice.

”hey…” panda starts, delicate. somehow, yuuta dreads the teasing edge to his voice. ”have you thought about confessing to them, yuuta?”

”what?” the boy in question squeaks, choking on his juice. ”no, of course not!”

”why?” maki deadpans. popping a chip into her mouth. ”you’re head over heels, right? might as well do something about it.”

inumaki hums. affirmative.

”i… don’t know,” yuuta sighs. a heavy breath, a little wobbly. meek. ”they’d just reject me, wouldn’t they? i mean…”

(you’re totally out of his league. right?)

maki scoffs, sitting up a little straighter. there’s an angered kind of affection in her eyes. ”you’re just deciding that all on your own. how would you know how they feel?”

the gaze she sends his way is intense. it always has been. there’s a kindness to it, though, something that makes yuuta want to look her in the eye — but he can’t, eyes still locked on his hands, resting in his lap. ”… still,” he manages a weak smile, somewhat sheepish. ”even if i wanted to, there’s no way i could. i’m too much of a coward.”

…

maki slams her textbook shut. the sound is sudden, loud. yuuta flinches, and a wince leaves inumaki’s lips. panda just watches her, snacking on some chips, a mild curiousity simmering in his eyes.

the girl in question gets up from her seat, grabbing her bass case and throwing it over her shoulder. then she looks at yuuta, eyes full of decision.

”— well, lucky for you, we’ve got some time to spare.”

a blink. yuuta gazes up at the girl in front of him, tilting his head in confusion.

maki sighs. exasperated. ”i’m saying we’ll help you. don’t look so resigned, dumbass.”

at that, panda gets up too — suddenly excited. ”are you thinking what i’m thinking?”

she just huffs, smiling even still. ”probably not. but let’s hear it.”

the grin on his face widens. he scribbles something down in his notebook, showing off the writing proudly. ”operation: get yuuta to confess is about to commence!”

inumaki turns off his phone. sitting up straight, arms decisively crossed, a strangely serious expression on his face. completely invested.

”wait — wait!” yuuta stutters, eyes wide with flustered shock. ”don’t i get a say in this?”

”of course not.”

”nope!”

”bonito flakes.”

”b… but —”

”alright, so here’s what i’m thinking,” panda begins, writing down unintelligible notes on the pages of his tattered notebook. ”we need to start small. we don’t want yuuta getting heart palpitations and fainting in the middle of campus, so —”

”tuna mayo?”

”yeah, that’s perfect! hang on, lemme just…”

”let me see. i don’t want you messing this up.”

yuuta’s voice comes out tiny, as it falls from his lips. more of a squeaky breath. ”guys, i really — you don’t need to —”

panda continues to scribble in the notebook, engrossed, arm hanging off maki’s shoulder as they go over the contents. inumaki nods along, walking over to them with lazy steps. yuuta’s protests go unnoticed, and all he can do is watch them mutter under their breaths.

”— okay. listen up, yuuta.”

he raises his head, and meets maki’s sharp eyes. she’s smiling, strolling over to place the notebook right in front of him. ”here’s how this is gonna go.”

yuuta looks down.

everything is written out with a pink sharpie, glittery and pretty. there are little hearts doodled out across the pages, and he can tell exactly which ones were drawn by who. all of them look messy, with the exception of inumaki’s perfect little shapes.

and there, right in the middle, lies a line of text.

panda reads it out, voice loud and cheery, while maki and inumaki stick close. all smiling, as a chill crawls down yuuta’s spine.

”step 1: ask for their number!”

plan a

”okay, so… what am i supposed to do, exactly?”

panda throws an arm over yuuta’s shoulder, and he’s enveloped by the scent of fresh sunlight. the weight is heavy, a comfort. ”we’re going with my plan first! it’s the best one, so don’t worry.”

”i don’t know about that,” maki scoffs. ”we can’t ask mai. best case scenario, she’ll laugh at us a little and say no.”

inumaki hums. he rips out a part of the notebook he’s been tasked with carrying, doodling a little face and showing it to the rest of his friends.

yuuta leans in close. it’s a cute doodle, charming. and he can tell who it’s supposed to depict. miwa kasumi.

”yeah, she’s our best bet,” maki sighs, brushing some specks of dust off her jeans. ”she seems like the nicest one in that group.”

yuuta tilts his head, brows furrowed in confusion. he plays with the ring hanging around his neck, a nervous tick he’s never managed to get rid of. ”wait, so…” he trails off, unsure. ”what are we doing, exactly?”

panda tugs him closer, a friendly smile on his face. ”we’re going to their friends for help!” he beams. ”that’ll be easier for you, right?”

a blink. yuuta gazes into the eyes of his friend, something soft blooming in his eyes.

they can be a chaotic bunch — but they’re still so considerate. considerate enough to know asking for your number straight out would be too much for him. considerate enough to think of his comfort, in a way no one else has bothered to before.

(faced with such immense understanding, such genuine friendship, how could he ever bear to let them down?)

”… alright,” yuuta gulps, clutching his ring as if to give him courage. managing a smile. ”let’s do this, then!”

with newfound determination, the four of them seek out miwa kasumi. it doesn’t take too long — she’s studying, going over legal codes in the library, eyes narrowed in concentration. and she isn’t alone.

”hey, miwa. muta.”

the pair look up from their respective textbooks and laptop, meeting the gaze of a certain maki zenin, waltzing over to their table. miwa smiles, but kokichi doesn’t say anything.

”hi, maki! how are you?”

”i’m good,” she answers, straight to the point; but her eyes soften a little. then she gestures towards yuuta with a tilt of her head. ”sorry, but this guy needs your help.”

”hm?” miwa shifts in her seat, meeting yuuta’s nervous gaze, as he steps forward. ”ah, you’re… okkotsu, right?”

”ah, yeah! sorry for interrupting you two…”

”no, no! please, don’t worry about it,” she grins. sweet and soft, twirling a lock of her hair between her fingers. ”we don't mind. right?”

kokichi still doesn’t say anything. but he nods, when miwa meets his eyes — and yuuta notices that they seem a lot softer when she does.

”so, here’s how it is…”

panda explains the situation to the pair. yuuta looks down at the floor, face flushed as he shifts from foot to foot. by the time he’s finished, miwa looks wholly invested, and kokichi looks a little less like all he wants is for them to leave him and miwa be.

”awww, that’s so sweet!!” she gushes, clasping her hands together. eyes glimmering with excitement.

”right,” maki hums. already a little impatient. ”so, basically — we need their number.”

”… ah. well, um —” miwa trails off, averting her gaze. she looks over at kokichi, but he only shrugs, going back to his coding. ”see, here’s the thing…”

with an apologetic look in her eyes, she turns to yuuta. ”i support you 100% — but i dunno if it’d feel right to just… give away their number like that, you know?” she mumbles, sheepishly. ”i think you should ask them, yourself. that’d be way more romantic!”

”yeah, but that’s a tall hurdle for a socially anxious guy…” panda mutters, patting yuuta’s back.

”still! i’m sure they’d appreciate you being direct.” miwa closes her eyes, a dreamy expression painted on her face. ”i’d be elated if someone asked for my number like that!! all stuttering and shy… it’d be so cute!”

(if anyone notices kokichi stiffening beside her, they don’t mention it.)

maki sighs, resigned. ”well, i don’t think we’re getting any numbers here. good. what kind of creep just texts someone out of nowhere, anyway?”

”i thought it was a good plan!” panda protests, pouting a little. maki shoots him a look.

”it was an awful plan. what were you planning to say? hey, i forced your friend to give me your number, but would you want to hang out sometime?” she crosses her arms with a sharp scoff. ”i’d beat your ass!”

panda grumbles a little under his breath, but doesn’t say anything.

”sorry i couldn’t be of more help,” miwa mumbles, sheepishly, rubbing the back of her head. ”good luck, though! i hope they say yes!”

”thanks, miwa,” yuuta smiles, already in the process of being tugged away by his friends. ”i really appreciate it!”

plan a

plan b

”alright, inumaki’s turn. what’s your take on the situation, mister?”

the boy in question sits up straight, back resting against a tree trunk. he writes something down, and yuuta waits, patiently — absentmindedly staring at the white petals of the apricot trees on campus. pure, fleeting, sweet blossoms unfurling before him.

when he’s finished, inumaki presents the page to yuuta, and everyone gathers round. reading the writing, eyes trailing over his little doodles. panda grins, and maki strokes her chin in contemplation.

”you’re a genius, inu!”

”well, it’s probably the easiest way to go about it…”

yuuta purses his lips. it’s a good plan, he thinks; writing out a note, and passing it to you in the middle of class. that way, he won’t have to turn his feelings into sounds, won’t have to speak them out loud. there’s a safety to it, the trickling of ink across blank papers. one that’s never failed him.

”… that should work,” he mumbles, and inumaki visibly brightens. ”what am i supposed to write, though?”

”just be straightforward.”

”not seconded!” panda huffs, crossing his legs. ”you need to be dramatic. heartfelt. that’ll catch their attention!” he stops to think for a moment, a hum buzzing loudly in his throat. ”hey — why not write them a love poem? put those skills to good use!”

”a love poem?” yuuta squeaks, a slight heat rising to the tips of his ears. ”there’s no way i could do that! and i’m not skilled, i —”

a pause. yuuta bites his lip.

”… it’d just be embarrassing,” he finally mutters, playing with his ring.

(he wonders what rika would think, if she were here. what she’d advise him to do — would she like the love poem idea? probably.)

”well, you could at least try. who knows, maybe they’ll like it,” maki attempts to reassure him, chewing at a piece of gum. ”if they’re anything like miwa, it’ll be easy.”

gnawing at his bottom lip, yuuta emits an anxious hum. deep in thought. maybe you would like it, but… what if you just think it’s cheesy?

maki observes him, intently. listening to the emotions behind his silence. tapping the pads of her fingers on her knee, in a rhythmic motion. ”… at least try writing something out,” she says. ”if you can’t think of anything, then just copy some random old guy. what was his name, uh — catallas? or something?”

yuuta’s gaze snaps up, eyes gone wide. ”catullus?” he gapes, in disbelief. ”are you insane? do you even know what kind of poems he wrote?”

maki shoots him a confused look, and a tilt of her head. ”isn’t he the ’give me a thousand kisses’ guy?”

”he is, but that’s —” a sigh, exasperated. flustered, as it flows from his parted lips. then he shakes his head. ”nevermind. it doesn’t matter.”

”tuna…” inumaki mumbles, nudging yuuta’s shoulder with his head. a silent encouragement. and even with no words, yuuta knows what he’s trying to say.

just be yourself. this is your specialty, right?

write from your heart.

”inumaki…” yuuta meets his gaze, and is met with a pair of warm eyes. a friendly punch meets his shoulder, soft and delicate. kind.

”… alright. i’ll write it!”

”that’s the spirit!” panda grins. ”just give it to them during tomorrow’s lecture.”

”yeah,” yuuta nods, mustering the courage to smile. ”i will!”

when yuuta gets home that night, he makes himself a cup of coffee with too much sugar, and gets ready to write.

he listens to maki’s acoustic guitar covers through his headphones, curled up with the fluffy blanket panda gave him, and munches on a hastily made onigiri to give himself much-needed energy.

(writing with a certain pumpkin-themed pencil, basking in the scratching of lead against blank pages.)

his hands are shaking.

it’s barely noticeable, but it’s there. that nervous shiver of his bones, the rattling of his skeleton. you’re sitting right next to him, so close he can smell the shampoo you use, the mint off your breath —

and yuuta can’t seem to hand you the note.

he spent all last night writing it. putting every single little drop of his love into every single little word. but that fear of rejection still remains, rendering him useless, unable to act.

you’re listening to the lecture, but only halfheartedly, absentmindedly doodling in your notebook. out of boredom, he assumes.

it’s the perfect moment to strike.

yuuta’s hands are shaking, and his heartbeat is stuttering, crawling up his throat. he takes a sip of water, hoping it’ll make the dry sensation go away, but it doesn’t work.

(just be yourself.)

with a deep intake of breath, he pushes the note over to you — not daring to look your way.

his eyes remain glued on the laptop screen in front of him, but he hears you pick it up, hears the rustling of paper as you unfold it. his heart echoes with a similar rhythm, unstable, borderline erratic. the rest of the lecture passes by slowly, minute by minute, at an agonizing pace.

when it finally ends, yuuta has to restrain the urge to run away — turning towards you slowly, hesitantly, as if just the sight of you could blind him if he isn’t careful. but you’re already looking at him. and you’re smiling.

”that was so good, yuuta!”

….

huh?

”sorry, but i honestly don’t have any feedback,” you mumble, eyes trailing over the note again. ”i like it a lot. i didn’t know you wrote poetry!”

”… ah.” yuuta stumbles for something to say. staring into your eyes, blankly. dumbly. ”t.. thank you! i’m glad you liked it.”

with a brief shake of your head, you smile, and something sickly sweet unfurls in his chest. ”not at all. thanks for letting me read it! i’m sorry i can’t really help you improve…”

mentally, yuuta falls to his knees. places his palms on the floor and dry heaves, clutching his heart. did you not get it? was he not clear enough? he wrote it with you in mind, so —

”maybe you could show it to professor nanami?” you suggest, unaware of the turmoil within the boy to your right. ”i'm sure he’ll be a great help! he can seem a bit intimidating, but he’s nice.”

”.. yeah,” yuuta smiles, weakly. ”i’ll do that. thanks again.”

for a moment, he isn’t even upset. because you flash him another bright smile, and suddenly, even the frustration of yet another setback doesn’t feel so awful.

(maybe it’s fine, he thinks. maybe this is enough; speaking to you, getting to see your smile up close. maybe he doesn’t need anything else, after all.)

”so?” maki questions, waiting for him outside of class with his other two friends. ”how’d it go?”

shoulders slumped, but still wearing a smile on his face, yuuta chuckles. it comes out sounding a little strangled. ”they… thought i wanted their feedback on my poetry.”

….

”what.”

panda attempt to stifle his laughter, but it doesn’t really work. inumaki elbows him gently, but yuuta sees his eyes crinkle, too. he breathes out a low chuckle. ”they liked the poem, at least. so i’m happy.”

a sigh falls from maki’s lips, and she waltzes over to him, a hand on her hip. the other reaches out for the note in his palm. ”let me see.”

quickly unfolding it, her eyes trail across the words on the pages, the flowery lines of writing —

and then she shoots him an unimpressed look.

”.. yuuta,” she pinches the bridge of her nose. ”what the hell is this? you didn’t even mention their number.”

panda leans over her shoulder, peeking at the text. eyes glancing over a couple lines, riddled with sugarsweet metaphors. ”uh, wow. you… really got into it, huh?”

a groan leaves yuuta’s lips, the sound muffled as he cradles his head in his hands. ”please don’t say anything else. i just wanna crawl into a hole and die…”

inumaki shakes his head, erratic, pointing at the poem with shining eyes. ”mentaiko!”

”ah, you liked it? thanks, inumaki…”

the boy in question smiles, shooting yuuta a thumbs up. he returns it with a small smile of his own.

surrounded by his friends, all he can do is bask in their warmth — and the memory of the smile you gave him.

plan a plan b

plan c

a groan fills the air, as yuuta slumps over the table. cheek pressed against the cold wood, absently kicking his legs, voice meek and defeated.

”this is never gonna work,” he mutters under his breath. eyes devoid of hope. ” i’m just not cut out for this, guys…”

”aw, c’mon….” panda reaches over to ruffle his hair, palm big and warm. ”don’t give up hope! you want to grow closer to them, don’t you?”

”i do, but…” he sighs. ”this isn’t going very well, is it…?”

inumaki frowns, sending yuuta a sympathetic glance.

”oh, quit moping already!” maki grumbles. ”we just need to keep brainstorming. isn’t it time for my plan, yet?”

”should we really even keep going…?” another sigh, heavy with fatigue. yuuta’s mind spins in circles, tiring him out. rendering him a bit cynical. ”i mean… maybe it’s fine if things stay this way.”

a moment passes. maki looks at him, emitting a soft scoff. ”what, so you’re just gonna keep pining for the rest of the term?”

”that’s the plan.”

”yuuta…” panda pouts, shoes bumping against his beneath the table. ”be more positive! just think about it; with every step you take, you get closer to confessing!”

yet another groan. this one is deep, riddled with exhaustion. muffled into the table. ”that’s the scariest part…”

before either of his friends can begin to persuade him otherwise, encourage him further, a sing-songy voice echoes throughout the air. loud, cheery — a little bit obnoxious.

”oh? did someone just say confess?”

at the same instant the sound reaches their ears, a chill runs down the youths’ spines. in tandem with each other, they raise their heads; gazes falling on a certain satoru gojo.

panda and maki are the first to act, speaking simultaneously as the white haired man inches closer.

”— no.”

maki closes the notebook containing operation: get yuuta to confess, right before their professor can get close enough to see it. then she turns towards him, shooting him a cold look.

”your hearing’s getting bad,” she hums. ”maybe you should book a doctor’s appointment.”

a pout. gojo takes a seat right beside her, uncomfortably long legs bumping against every single other pair of shoes beneath the table.

”oh, c’mon. you know i heard you.” his hand reaches out to ruffle her hair, but she smacks it away. ”you’re starting to sound just like megumi, y’know that?”

maki grits her teeth. ”guess it’s a genetic thing,” she huffs. ”now can you leave? don’t you have papers to grade?”

”don’t you have papers to write?” gojo smirks, a teasing mirth in his eyes. hidden behind his sunglasses. maki ignores him.

placing his palms on the table, he leans a little closer, lips curled up into a cheshire grin. foreboding. ”sooo… yuuta’s got himself a little crush, huh?” he teases. ”tell your favorite professor allll about it. maybe i can help!”

”professor geto is our favorite,” maki shoots back, instantaneous.

a soft huff. there’s something sour in gojo’s expression, now. ”that guy? really?”

before the two can argue further, yuuta takes the opportunity to to speak. smiling apologetically, polite and sweet. ”thanks, mr. gojo, but…”

”he doesn't need your help,” maki cuts in. so much for diffusing the tension. ”and do you really expect us to believe you get girls?”

”wha — rude!” gojo scoffs. ”for your information, i’m a natural charmer!”

…

a moment passes. then another.

”… tough crowd,” he clicks his tongue, met only with four blank stares. ”but, really — let me help! i'm your professor, you know?”

and this time, yuuta thinks that gojo’s smile looks just a little more sincere. something kind and gentle in the way his lips curl up, like a father’s affection for their children. something that makes yuuta falter.

(maki might like mr. geto more — but when it comes to yuuta, his favorite professor is a no-brainer.)

so he speaks up, again. ”we can at least hear him out, right…?” maki shoots him an unimpressed look, but he doesn’t back down. ”we’re stuck, anyway…”

and just like that, gojo brightens. it’s obvious, in the way he sits up, more alert. in the way his grin grows wider. ”right? what you need is the perspective of someone more experienced.”

”have you even talked to a girl before?”

”i see him at ieiri’s office, sometimes.”

”salmon.”

”isn’t she a lesbian? that doesn’t count. i mean, like, in a romantic context.”

”i thought mr. gojo was gay, too?”

”what? no way. have you seen the way he’s dressed —?”

gojo clears his throat, voice loud and grating. demanding attention, cutting his eager students off. ”anyway,” he chirps. ”gather round, children! i’ll tell you exactly how to ask the person you like for their number.”

”wh —” yuuta blinks. ”how’d you…?”

”operation ’get yuuta to confess!’, step 1: ask for their number!” gojo repeats, grinning ear to ear. voice rich with amusement. ”i like the glitter. it’s a nice touch.”

maki huffs. looks like she didn’t close it fast enough.

begrudgingly, the youths quiet down, finally willing to hear their professor out. and gojo seems satisfied, at last, speaking in a hushed whisper; eerily serious all of a sudden. ”ok, so here’s what you do…”

everything goes silent. yuuta strains his ears, and gojo parts his lips.

”— just ask them! easy, right?

….

”let’s go, yuuta.”

”mentaiko.”

”i heard they're serving those sandwiches you like at the cafeteria today! let's hurry before they run out.”

”ah — i was just kidding!” gojo laughs, as his students get up from their seats. ”i have an actual answer!”

maki grabs her bass, inumaki takes the notebook, and panda ushers yuuta away. they begin to walk down the hall, ignoring the pleas of the man behind them. pouting, as his shout echoes throughout the hallway.

”kids! come back!”

plan a plan b plan c

plan d

”okay, so this is going absolutely nowhere.”

relishing in the shadow cast by the giant campus tree, the four friends sit on their usual table, sandwiches in hand. yuuta takes a bite of his, tentative. a little disheartened.

”really, guys… i appreciate it a lot, but maybe we should stop here.”

maki huffs. reaching across the table, she gently smacks him over the head with her can of sprite. ”no way. we still haven’t tried my plan.”

he leans back, a little further, a hesitant look in his eyes. the sun shines down, relentless, but the air smells like rain. in the distance he sees clouds, dark, approaching at a slow pace.

an omen, he thinks. a reason not to speak out.

rika always liked the rain. she liked the scent that came with it, the puddles she could jump in. she liked shaking the branches of tiny trees, just to see him jolt and squeak as the raindrops hit him.

the ring around his neck weighs heavy on his heart. the promise of it, the oath within the silver.

(when we grow up, let’s get married!)

”earth to yuuta!”

his eyes flutter open.

the sun shines down, embracing the contours of his face. painting his world yellow. from this angle, staring up at the tree, he can see it breaking through; between the gaps of the green leaves, the white blossoms. forcing its way into his line of vision.

a flicker of hope.

”do you want to hear the plan or not?” maki scoffs, crossing her arms and tapping at her elbow. impatient.

yuuta meets her gaze, finding it in him to muster up just a little more determination. ”yeah,” he breathes. ”i do.”

a smile blooms on her face. ”good. alright.”

panda and inumaki inch closer to the pair, careful not to knock over the cans of soda resting on the table. in a mess of limbs and tousled hair, they gather round.

this is it, yuuta thinks — the final plan. if it fails, he’ll just have to keep pining from afar. memorizing your smile, over and over, until you graduate and part ways.

this is it.

maki parts her lips.

”— just ask them,” she says. ”straight out.”

silence.

a moment passes. a soft, pleasant breeze flits by, caressing yuuta’s skin. his ring sways with the wind, gently.

”… huh?!”

panda furrow his brows, leaning closer with his palms on his knees. ”i thought we agreed that was stupid!” inumaki huffs out a low affirmative noise, holding his sketchbook tightly to his chest. but maki only puffs out her chest.

yuuta tilts his head, with a soft furrow of his brows. ”didn’t you just cuss out mr. gojo for suggesting that…?”

”well, it’s dumb when he says it…” she mutters, under her breath. then her gaze turns firm. ”look — yuuta.”

when the two lock eyes, he notices a steadfast determination, glimmering in her irises. something almost burning.

”you aren’t going to get anywhere if you’re too cowardly to even look them in the eye,” she tells him, not allowing him to squirm away from the eye contact. ”you guys can come up with those convoluted plans all you want, but there’s no way you’ll grow closer if you can’t face them.”

tousling her hair, softly, maki lets out a sigh. there’s a kindness to it, distinct. he can tell she’s trying to be tactful.

”if you really want to get to know them, then you have to be direct. and you have to believe in yourself. you’ve already resigned yourself to the fact that they’ll say no — but that’s just dumb.”

panda winces, under his breath, but doesn’t say anything. maybe this is exactly what yuuta needs to hear.

the boy in question listens, the eyes of his friend boring into his own. determined, confident, sincere — everything he isn’t. everything he wants to be.

”even if you don’t believe it, you’re a charming guy. we all think so,” she continues, matter-of-factly. angered affection overflowing in her voice.

”have some confidence, dammit!”

a moment passes. yuuta feels his lips part, ever so slightly. a little speechless.

panda and inumaki sit shoulder to shoulder, hands over their eyes, shielding themselves from the sight in front of them. comically, as if it’s too bright to look at directly.

”this… overflowing tough love…!”

”salmon roe…!”

maki grins, all teeth, a little wolfish. but kind. ”the worst thing they can say is no, right?

yuuta blinks. ”maki…” he mumbles, looking into her eyes, a certain sensation running through his chest. a kind of confidence. passed on from her to him — one friend to another. the most natural exchange in the world.

then he smiles. a little meek, somewhat awkward — but bright. ”yeah. yeah, you’re right!”

the lazy grin on her lips only deepens, as she gets up to her feet, dusting non-existent dirt off her jeans. reaching a hand out for yuuta to take. ”c’mon, loser. shape up. you’re gonna steal their heart, aren’t you?”

a moment passes.

yuuta takes her hand in his. ”i am,” he swallows down a gulp. willing his voice to sound even a little bit self-assured.

and she pulls him up, effortlessly, overflowing with a natural resilience. still grinning cheekily. encouraging him. ”you’re gonna go out there and do your best, right?”

”i — i am!”

another voice chimes in. ”you’re gonna finish my essay for me this week, right?”

”i am!”

…

”wait —”

maki hits panda over the head with a soft thwack. a wince leaves his lips, and inumaki giggles, quieting down when maki sends him a warning glance.

”don’t throw him off his game,” she huffs. then she turns to yuuta once more. ”let’s go find them. alright, loverboy?”

a smile blooms on his lips. grateful, to be surrounded by such sunny people. ones that make it a little easier to smile each day. ”right.”

— but before either of them can take a step forward, a warm voice spills into the open air.

”um, yuuta?”

the boy in question stops in his tracks. he feels his eyes widen, spinning on his heels, hair ruffled by the breeze — turning to look at the source of the sound.

it’s you.

you, with your sunkissed smile, that inviting voice. that soothing, soothing presence. one that has his heartbeat picking up in speed, hands growing sweaty, throat running dry. one that makes him feel a little bit feverish. and you’re looking right at him, into his eyes.

”hey!” he sputters, blinking rapidly to convince himself that he isn’t hallucinating. but you just keep smiling, answering his awkward greeting without skipping a beat.

”hi! sorry, could i just… talk to you, for a second?”

he blinks. the world stops spinning.

(you… want to talk….

to him?)

attempting to find the words, any words, he opens his mouth — but nothing comes out. not a single syllable, no vowels, not even a sound. nothing at all.

he can only stare, star-struck.

it’s not until his friends push him forward that he’s snapped out of it; they surround him, on all sides, wearing matching grins. teasing and excited.

”don’t worry, he’s all yours!”

”have fun, you two!”

”salmon!”

— then they’re off.

yuuta tries to reach for their sleeves, in a weak attempt to keep them from leaving, but they’re gone before he can even blink. leaving him all alone, with someone he can’t talk to without experiencing intense symptoms of heart failure.

he stumbles for something to say, again, but thankfully you beat him to it.

”sorry for interrupting you guys,” you say, voice set to a low tilt. apologetic. and his throat unclogs, a little.

”ah, no, it’s fine!” he smiles, maybe a little too giddy. wanting so badly to reassure you, to put you at ease. ”i’m happy to speak to you!”

…

(oh god oh no why did i say that —)

your smile widens, blooming like a flower in the sunlight. unfurling in front of his very eyes. ”me too!” you say, excitedly. ”i feel like you and i have been talking more, recently… it’s nice.”

eyes crinkling, you wringle your hands together, and look at him fondly. yuuta’s surprised he manages to keep his knees from buckling.

”i think so too!” he grins, ears pink and dimples showing.

both of you smile. the breeze curls around your hair, illuminating the colour of your eyes. yuuta stops breathing, for a moment — just taking it all in.

”so — anyway…” you murmur, fiddling with the fabric of your pants. ”um… haha. sorry, i’m — a little nervous…”

yuuta blinks.

(he knows where this is going. all the signs are there, right in front of him; the flush of your cheeks, the nervous tapping of your fingers, the hesitance in your eyes. he’s read enough shoujo manga — he knows what this means.)

and he almost can’t believe it.

all he can do is keep smiling, hoping it’ll give you even a fraction of the peace that your smile brings him. ”don’t be,” he says, voice soothing. scratching the back of his head. ”whatever it is, i’ll — um. i’ll listen, so…”

he clears his throat. swallowing thickly.

”just — whenever you're ready.”

there’s no mistaking it. your ears are painted pink, and you’re gnawing at your bottom lip. fiddling with your fingers and avoiding his gaze, with a soft inhale, clear air filling your lungs. he wonders if your throat feels as dry as his, if your heart is beating even half as fast.

”um… okay, so…” you mumble, eyes unable to stay in one place for too long. a soft bout of laughter escapes you, and he can tell you’re trying to stave off your own nervosity; it sends a pang of ache running through his chest.

he wants to tell you that there’s no need to be nervous. that he’d listen to anything you have say, absolutely anything, no matter what it is.

he wants to tell you that he’d never let you down, that he’d have to be foolish to even think the thought.

he wants to tell you that he’ll hear you out. whenever, wherever. for as long as you need.

”do you, um…”

a gulp. your eyes find his, and there’s a soft kind of decisiveness in them.

here it comes, he thinks. here it comes.

yuuta feels the heat on his cheeks, ears burning. and he hears the patter of his heartbeat, loud and heavy, echoing in his muddled mind like a mantra. but his chest feels light; fluttery, butterflies dancing around uncontrollably.

clutching the ring around his neck, subconsciously, he looks you in the eye.

they’re bright, glimmering like little galaxies — or maybe more like summer skies. painted over with a warm hue, something nostalgic and sweet, so pretty it hurts. if he strains his eyes enough, he’s almost sure he can see the swirling of fluffy clouds in the depths of your irises.

a smile rests on your lips. it's almost overwhelmingly sweet, albeit a little shy, as you part your pretty lips. voice soaked in nervosity, tingly and shaky, and something he knows to be puppy love.

a shallow, dry intake of breath. yuuta braces himself.

here it comes.

your voice spills out into the air, dripping with honey and magnolias. he thinks to himself that he’d like to hear the melodic lilt of it every single day; before going to bed, right after waking up. walking to campus together, heading back to the dorms when the sky gets dark.

just the sound alone would be enough.

subconsciously, he tugs on the strap of his backpack. thinking of the pencil inside it. his lucky charm, along with the ring around his neck — ordinary objects, both too precious for words.

(when we grow up, let’s get married!

you can keep it, if you want.)

here it comes, yuuta thinks.

a new beginning.

he strains his ears, and purses his lips, and watches your lips move as you finally ask —

”do you have maki’s number?”

(somewhere in the distance, from an inconspicuous bush, the muffled screams of three students and one professor resounds.)

869 notes · View notes

bunnyreaper · 2 months

Text

wc - 4.6k

warnings - 18+/nsfw (eventually), age gap (older male younger female), bodyguard!au, threat of violence.

notes - another visit to dilfville, a new series, because that's all we need, right? lol. hope you enjoy ♥

Friday nights meant one thing: unwinding after a long week of working in your home office, braving the outside world, and heading to the comfy flat belonging to your friend Jules.

While visiting her place was always a blast, Friday nights were for DnD. Leaving behind Earth for its fantasy counterpart and getting lost in the adventures of your group's merry band of do-gooders.

Saturdays are usually spent drinking coffee, frequenting markets, and then rounding the night off with cocktails and dancing. (And Sunday's recuperating from being up on your feet all night, spending the day in bed reading whatever trashy romance novel is next on your reading list.)

Your weekends are your sanctuary—your freedom from routine and work is your refuge.

You dance around your bedroom, rocking your hips to the music as you pull on your clothes—a white blouse and black bustier to channel the vibes of your character Elora.

When the doorbell rings, it's entirely unexpected. Anyone close to you knows you're just a few minutes away from heading out for the night—maybe it's a neighbour, you suppose to yourself as you head to the door.

On the other side of your flat's door is an incredibly handsome man. Broad framed, ruggedly good-looking yet with a finely pressed white shirt and dress trousers. His features are striking, strong eyes and a brow slashed with a scar, stubble all over, and a neatly trimmed mohawk that strangely suits him. All in all, a sight for fucking sore eyes, standing so confidently and casually in your doorway like he belongs.

You hate how your eyes linger on his form far longer than they probably should, but the handsome stranger is just so enthralling.

"Hello?" You mumble, a little absent-mindedly, as you try to gather thoughts that aren't just lewd and dirty.

His stormy blue eyes meet yours, his cheek tugs into a half-smile that definitely doesn't meet his eyes, the faintest dimple appearing on his left cheek. "John MacTavish, ye maw sent me."

"Oh, the bodyguard." You reply dumbly. Fuck. If you were opposed to the idea before, you certainly were now... or maybe you're not.

On one hand, you have to have a handsome stranger watching over you—on the other, you have to have a handsome stranger watching over you, while you act normal about the entire thing.

You realise that you're acting completely the fool, so you snap out of your thoughts and step aside to allow the older man inside. "She didn't tell me to expect you... probably thought I'd run. Uh, come in."

"Thanks." He nods as he steps through the threshold, ducking slightly as he does.

Once inside, his eyes scan over the open-plan space of your living area, seemingly taking in every little detail.

You watch him, sensing that his training and experience make him focus on the minute particulars of a room that others would completely skip over.

Your mother had already clued you into the fact there might need to be security enhancements to the flat itself, and you assume those requests came at the behest of the man himself. He seems to be lost in evaluating what these might be.

"So, what can I do for you?" You ask, filling the air with some sort of conversation starter. You have no idea what you're doing in this situation on the whole, but especially not when it comes to hiring, negotiating with, and retaining a bodyguard.

"It's what I can do fer you." He turns, taking you in now, and you start to feel self-conscious about having too many buttons undone, too much chest on show.

Something tells you that MacTavish's gaze would make you squirm regardless—his eyes carrying a heaviness to them that seem like a fantastic attribute in a protector. Surely anyone who would even think about coming close to cause you harm would reconsider under his harsh look.

You start to wrack your brains for what he can actually do for you. Again, you have no familiarity in having personal protection, beyond what you've seen your mother undergo. Your work is fairly stable, you keep the same routine, and the biggest threat you ever seem to face is the creeps in the club.

Well, apart from the online threats, but something about the anonymous, cowardly messages doesn't frighten you.

"If I'm being honest,I don't exactly want a bodyguard. I don't see much of a point?" You admit, voice a little quiet. After all, you don't mean to upset or offend the man, but you're not sure he isn't just wasting his time with this job.

He squints, considering for a moment before he answers. "Yer maw sees things differently."

She does, and that's probably the only reason you agreed to go through with this in the first place. You don't want to worry her, especially since her own security has had to be tightened due to said threats.

"Yeah, she's really worried."

John's brows furrow, a small frown appearing on his lips. "Aye, rightly so, considering everything."

He seems serious and said severity gives you pause for thought. His job is to assess and protect against threats, so surely he wouldn't be here, acting the way he is were there not a valid reason for concern. The thought makes a lump form in your throat, makes your stomach twist in a way you'd rather not acknowledge.

You try to cope with it the best way you know how—humour.

"Eh, online threats are nothing new for a girl my age, you know? And it's not like I'm anyone important." You shrug it off, hoping that if you say the words aloud, they'll just come true. As you speak, your phone chimes with a notification from your group chat, reminding you of your upcoming plans—and the fact you're going to have to abandon this little meeting. "Uh, I'd offer you a cuppa, but I'm leaving soon."

"Don't drink it anyway, but thanks." The man smiles slightly, before turning away once more and scanning the room. He cranes his neck to get a look down the hallway, leading to your bedroom and bathroom. "There's a difference between lads online, an' the kinda people that make up extremist groups like those targeting your maw and her party."

"Really?" You laugh, a short, sharp sound that betrays your discomfort. You grab your jacket and keys by the door, desperate for something to fiddle with. "Thought they were all just sad loners, desperately searching for something to make them feel better."

"Except some of them have connections, dangerous connections."

There are a million and one reasons you don't want to go through with this, and very few urging you to. Though, removing a major worry from your mother's life is a big one—John MacTavish's gorgeous blues are another. The possible invasion of privacy lingers in your head, the worry that your father might be using this as an opportunity to have the inside track on your life, on all the things you don't tell your parents. Your mind also revolts at the idea of unnecessary restrictions to your plans, your friends being held under a magnifying glass.

The thought of the threats being real is the only thing more startling. You sigh, resigning yourself to your fate. "If this is what will help her feel better, then I guess I better find a way to make this work."

He nods firmly, joining you at where you hover nervously at the door. "I'd agree."

"Unfortunately, you arrived at the worst possible time, because like I said, I'm just headed out. Can't miss the tube." You force a tight-lipped smile, making your excuse to leave—the thought of being late makes you jittery, the thought of being late continuing this difficult conversation makes you feel worse.

"Where ye going?" He asks, head tilted.

You know it's the first question of many. Where are you going? Who are you going with? The atmosphere already feels a little stifling, the relationship a little strained. You and John aren't friends, never will be friends. He's here to do a job, watch over you, and take your security very, very seriously.

"This is how it's always going to be?" You ask, the question coming out a little snappier than you intend it to.

John takes it in stride, unblinking in the face of your shortness, and yet unrelenting in his need for information. "Aye."

Once more, you sigh. "Right... I'm going to my weekly DnD game at my friend's house, and please, I really don't wanna cancel." You plead, feeling like a child reasoning with their parents rather than two adults on equal footing. You hate the feeling, even if you know his intentions are pure.

"How many friends?" He asks.

"4." You answer instantly.

"How long have ye known them?" His questioning continues, and his focus on the people you trust naturally drives you up the wall, even if again, you know it's just his job.

Your grasp on your keys tightens, your agitation growing. "I'll tell you whatever I can some other time, but please, I hate being late." You gesture to the door, indicating that it's time for him and you to leave.

John grabs the door, opening it for you and allowing you to step through before he does. As you turn to lock the door, you expect him to arrange another time and to bid you farewell, but he doesn't. "I'll drive ye. Dinnae bother arguing, lass."

His words have a finality to them that quiets you anyway, but the use of 'lass' renders you all but speechless.

"Okay..." You mumble, leading the way down the stairs as his hand comes to ghost along your lower back.

MacTavish’s vehicle is parked out in the street, and as you approach the car, you can feel his eyes searching again. He beats you to the car, a sleek black Range Rover, opening the door for you before climbing inside himself.

The action would be nice under any other circumstance, and such propriety is something you're probably going to have to get used to, but right now it just reinforces the annoying, infantilising feeling that you're currently suffering through.

As you give your friend's address to John, he takes off without another word, flicking on the car stereo before he goes. The atmosphere is thick, stifling, and you can only hope that in time the feeling will lessen, especially if your mother makes him a permanent feature.

On the way over, he picks up his questioning where he left off. "So, how long have you known this group?"

"A good few years, since uni."

"We can go over names and details when you're ready."

You take a deep breath, holding it in and then forcing yourself to calm a little. Instead, you try to focus on watching John, the diligent way he drives. "I'm assuming you have a long list of things we'll need to go over."

His eyes don't stray from you. "Aye, that we do."

The two of you fall into tense silence for the rest of the drive, nothing but the music and the sound of the car to keep you company. In the quiet street your friend lives on, John pulls in to park on the opposite side of the road, killing the engine and the radio, making the silence almost deafening.

Your nerves are getting the better of you again, and yet John seems so comfortable, unperturbed by the awkwardness. You're unsure what comes next, what to say.

"Not to be rude but, I'd prefer if you didn't come in." You utter, saying the first thing that springs to mind, despite it probably not being the best thing either. You flash the man an apologetic smile before you continue. "I don't know how to deal with all this, especially when we haven't agreed on how all this is gonna work?"

You hope your earnest admission makes up for your temporary ill-manners.

"Tha's fine, I'll stay here." He looks completely impassive. "Not ideal, but it'll do."

He doesn't look bothered by the inconvenience, and you suppose you should assuage him of the idea it's going to be a quick visit.

"Really? I'll be gone for a few hours."

His brow quirks. "Yer maw paid upfront, so as far as am concerned, my job's already started." Once more, his statement is absolute, and you don't bother trying to argue.

"Right then."

John is out of the car first, headed straight to your side of the door, checking left and right before he opens to let you out.

The action makes you both laugh and curse, perplexed by the deed as you climb out. "You're not my driver, you know you don't need to open the door for me?"

He laughs too, derisive and short as he closes the door a little too sharply. "Not tae be rude, but I believe the words you're looking for are 'thank you'."

"Gonna walk me to the door?" You ask, trying to shed yourself of your nerves and make the situation lighter.

You can't stay tense and subdued for the entire duration of this relationship—besides, now you're moments away from reuniting with the others in Albion Vale and forgetting all about this mess for a few hours. That alone is enough to raise your spirits.

John forces a cheeky, tight-lipped smile, the crow's feet at his eyes crinkling almost condescendingly. "Not feeling tha' gentlemanly anymore. I'm sure ye'll be fine."

"I'm sure." You make your way halfway across the road, before coming to a realisation, stopping and turning. "Oh, what's your number, you know, make this whole thing easier?"

John darts out, his arm falling just beside you as he ushers you across the road and onto the other side.

"Pass yer phone." He says, holding out a large, rough hand expectantly.

"Right, yeah." You nod, probably more than is necessary, as you pass your phone over to the man.

John takes the phone more softly than you expect, typing in his name and number before holding it back out for you to take. "I'll be here when yer done, to take ye home."

"Uh, thank you." You take the phone, before walking away sheepishly heading into your friend's block of flats and toward her apartment.

With each step you take, you try to push John and the threats and everything to do with the outside world far, far out of your brain.

The night passes by in a flurry of laughter and fun, lost in the adventures of Albion Vale and the antics of your party.

The session wraps up, and while you would usually be in no rush to head back—you know you can't sit around and leave John, however much a stranger he is, sitting in the car outside.

You text him to let him know you're headed down in five, and when you make it to the street less than 3 minutes later, he is there, leaning against the car door waiting for you.

"Thank you." You whisper, climbing inside. When John joins you in the car, he scrubs at his eyes before putting the key in the ignition. "Have you not been bored out of your mind?"

"Nothing I'm not used to." He replies instantly, pulling away before you can ask any further.

"What did you do before this?" You ask, curiosity getting the better of you.

From your understanding, most bodyguards cut their teeth in the police or the armed forces, and have tonnes of experience under their belt.

John oozes an ex-forces demeanour–his perfect posture, constant alertness, and the scars littering his skin.

It'd be hard not to notice, but becomes immediately obvious with the way your eyes seem to love settling upon him when they can. You have to force yourself to squash down the drunken, misguided lust that flares within you as you watch his large hands on the steering wheel and notice his veiny, hairy, and muscular forearms.

"Army, Captain." He answers, pulling your attention back to him in a more professional manner properly.

Something within the way he speaks makes you think there's more to the story—though you suppose with that kind of background, he has a cache of secrets and tales that he can never really share.

"Oh." You nod, feeling a little soothed. If you have to be protected, you suppose someone with his level of experience is the best man for the job. "I'm in good hands then."

Once more, he flashes a forced half-smile. "Aye."

A moment passes, and you find more questions bubbling to the front of your brain. Naturally, you're curious about this man who is undoubtedly going to become a big part of your life from now on, but the fact that his nature is a little reserved makes your curiosity multiply. You've long been a sucker for closed-off older men—call it a character flaw.

"Why did you leave the army? If you don't mind me asking."

There's a beat of silence where you think he might not answer, but eventually, he does, eyes still fixed on the road.

"Medical reasons. Nothing that affects my ability to do this job." He rushes to add, a slight spark of defensiveness flashing through as his jaw visibly tightens.

You're no expert detective, and you haven't seen your protector in action, but your first guess is that whatever ailment made him leave isn't entirely physical. The fact he's been somewhat open about it puts your mind at ease, the fact that your mother has clearly vetted him even more so.

You offer an empathetic smile that he likely doesn't see. "I don't doubt it."

The drive home passes quicker and easier with a bit of mead in your veins, allowing you to loosen up enough to hum along to the music playing from John's speakers. The little buzz passing through you alleviates that sense of trepidation you felt earlier, luring you into a false sense of security.

When the car pulls up and John lets you out, you know just what to say what needs to come next. "Well, I guess you should come in so we can formalise things."

"I'd appreciate it." He nods, before turning back to the car to grab a bag and follow you into the building.

You and John sit at your kitchen island, tea in your hand and coffee in John's—a neat, stapled stack of papers sits before you.

"Here's the contract I signed with ye maw, but she's given us some wiggle room." John says, tapping the top of the paper where the bold letters of CLOSE PROTECTION AGREEMENT — 141 SECURITY sit.

"Nice of her to allow me a say, if I'm honest." You laugh dryly—you love your mother dearly, but you'd be lying if you said she wasn't overbearing. Your initial protests about this whole arrangement had been entirely shut down, and clearly, she didn't trust you to follow through considering she sprung John on you tonight, unannounced.

"I'm sure she just wants what's best for ye." John offers as you flick through the pages.

The contract outlines the agreement between the Guard and The Principal—with stipulations on activities, compensation, and conduct.

It's weird seeing it all laid out on paper, seeing the hefty cost of John's services, and the fact you'll be giving this man free access to your home and life. All of this to keep you safe from some nebulous threats that have not even been acted upon.

"She does, but this is inconvenient, and frustrating to say the least." You purposefully choose not to include the words 'fucking annoying' and 'torturing me with a hot man I can't have', though your next conversation with your therapist will absolutely include such descriptions and more.

"I can understand tha'." He nods understandingly, before raising his coffee and taking a sip—his gaze unwavering as he does. "You've never had close protection before?"

You shake your head. "No, this is all new to me."

"Okay. We'll start by discussing exactly what kind of protection you're looking for. Part of tha' will be dictated by what yer maw laid out, like I said, we can decide specifics."

"Sounds like a plan." You lean back in your stool, tea in hand as you contemplate. Admittedly, you should have done some research before this, but in your defence, you did think you had more time. You're not entirely sure what boundaries you can set—but you hope that John can lead the process a little. "I don't think I can do something 24/7, and it's not like you can stay here, I guess."

You cringe internally thinking about how fucking awkward that would be—your tipsy brain supplies the image of the world's most uncomfortable sleepover.

In your imagination, John looks grumpy and uncomfortable, still tucked up in bed in that stiff shirt with his boots still on. You are, of course, in little fluffy bunny pyjamas staring at him all gooey-eyed whilst he tries to pretend everything is normal. It takes conscious effort for you not to giggle at the mental image.

"I understand. I'd suggest I escort you anywhere outside these four walls, day or night, work and social events. Conduct security checks on your flat, vet close contacts, update your digital security, things like tha'." John supplies a rundown of potential actions like it's a grocery list, yet a very severe grocery list. His collected nature does put you more at ease.

"Sounds a tad invasive."

"I'll try to make it as little as possible."

"Thanks, I appreciate it." You smile slightly, truly thankful for his consideration and tact.

You give John a once over, thoughts once again ticking over. "If you're going to be with me everywhere, you can't walk around like that, outside of my work, that is. No offense, it's just, all my friends are gonna think I'm a self-important twat if I start showing up everywhere with some posh bodyguard." You stop abruptly, realising how much you're bloody rambling.

"Am far from posh. But, more casual look then, aye?"

You smile a little nervously, hoping you haven't completely offended the man. "Please."

This whole situation is beyond difficult to navigate—untreaded paths, forging new relationships, balancing existing ones. Your friends really are going to think this whole situation is beyond bizarre. They already find amusement in seeing your mother on the news. Having a bodyguard is going to leave you subject to endless teasing, relentless mocking, and attempts to make your and John's life a whole lot harder.

Your head falls into your hands as you rub at the sockets of your eyes, undoubtedly smearing your makeup and making a mess of your face. It'll get easier, you reassure yourself.

With your eyes closed and pressed into the heel of your hands, you don't see the way John's expression softens or the way he moves closer to comfort you before hesitating and stopping short. "Wha's the matter?"

"I'm just... incredibly anxious about how this is going to play out with my friends, with work."

John leaps into problem-solving mode, immediately pulling from his brain some words to soothe you, as well as making note of what bumps in the road to smooth out. "Ye mother said she already consulted yer work, and they're fine to make accommodations."

Of course, she'd already talked to David about the whole thing. "So it'll be fine aside from all the gossip it will cause."

"It's politics and I ken yer not naïve, everybody's talking anyway, no?" He offers, and yet you don't seem assuaged, so he tries a different tactic. "It's my job to blend in. They'll barely notice me."

"With that haircut? Sorry." You giggle—surprisingly you find the mohawk suits his rugged look, but it certainly isn't something you've seen on a man that wasn't walking the streets of Camden. Though, even with a more fitting haircut, the man is so casually striking and ever so slightly imposing that he just naturally draws attention. "In general, you don't strike me as a man who does blending in well, not in civilian life anyway."

His eyes narrow for a moment, before he struggles to fight off a smirk. "Hmm, ye might have a point. Not changing ma hair though, sorry. Nae sure ye family has enough money for tha' one."

His more playful side makes your heart soar, and gives you hope that everything might just be alright.

"I have a crazy idea." Okay, maybe you're more tipsy than you thought you were, as your brain supplies an outlandish plot and your mouth runs away with it.

His eyebrow arches and his eyes sparkle with intrigue. John MacTavish seems like a man who likes crazy ideas. "Go oan."

"I'll tell my friends that you're my boyfriend, and we're just so madly in love that you have to come everywhere with me. Means no real questions."

Your proposition is met with deafening silence, despite the huge, encouraging grin on your face.

John laughs, just the once, before his expression hardens. "Not a chance, lass."

"Why? You don't have to really do anything. Besides, it'll save you sitting outside in the car, or staring from the shadows and making everyone feel uncomfortable."

You realise now that while you noticed a distinct lack of a ring, there's the possibility that John is still attached, and what you're suggesting is wildly inappropriate—but it's not that point he argues on.

"Aye, so I just have to spend ma time socialising instead." He scoffs.

"Well, surely you're not brooding and mysterious all the time." You wager.

Once more, he finds a smirk tugging at his lips that he can't hold back. "No' at all, but it's been a long time since I was the life of the party, and something tells me that me an' your DnD friends don't have a lot in common."

"They might surprise you, but you also might surprise yourself. Maybe you're a secret nerd." You wink, still being jovial before you shift back to your genuine pleas. "It'll make my life a whole lot easier and be one less thing for me to stress about. My friends wouldn't second guess the story much once they got past the shock of me bagging someone older, wiser, and oh-so-handsome. Please."

You flash your softest, sweetest doe eyes and lay the compliments on extra thick in the hopes of swaying him. In the political world, you're used to using charm to try and get what you want, and know that without charisma you'd get nowhere. Perhaps it's a bit low of you to stoop to using flirtation on someone who could likely run rings around you when it comes to negotiation, but it's worked before, and at this point, you're desperate.

John straightens up in his seat, eyes you for a moment, and then lets out a heavy sigh, crossing his arms over his chest. "Fine."

The fact he relents honestly takes you a little by surprise. You're relieved, but yes, surprised. "Huh?"

"Fine, I'll be whoever ye want me to be..." The look in his eyes shifts to something imperceptible, as he leans over the counter closer to you. "As long ye listen to what I say when it comes to yer safety and security. Deal?"

He holds out his hand, and your own feels dwarfed when you reach out to take his calloused palm.

"You drive a hard bargain, John MacTavish. Deal." You shake, and neither of you makes a move to immediately let go.

"Aye, a know." He winks, and the action makes your heart skip a beat, your cheeks flood with heat.

Each second passes slowly, his touch feeling like too much and not enough all at once. You know at that moment that life from now on is going to be especially difficult as long as John is around.

What he says next is the final nail in that particular coffin. "Would've done it anyway, but glad I got ye to agree to ma terms, lass."

#soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #soap mw2 #john soap mactavish #call of duty fanfiction #call of duty x reader #bunny writes #run to you

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canisalbus · 4 months

Note

I hope this isn’t unwelcome but here are a few of my personal Vascete modern AU headcanons:

As a child, Vasco was usually voted as a team captain when playing sports with other kids. Not necessarily because of his sporting ability, but rather because of his leadership qualities and general agreeableness and ease with others.

Machete always uses perfect grammar when he texts, but can take a while to respond. Vasco often responds instantly but with less attention to grammar. Machete texts in unbroken paragraphs (when he has a lot to say) but Vasco’s texts come through in small, sporadic flurries.

Machete is very familiar with hospitals, particularly so in his childhood due to his various medical issues. As a result he actually finds their cleanliness, and the politeness of the doctors, comforting. These experiences also made him more patient than he might otherwise have been.

Vasco donates blood and is on an organ donor registry.

Machete always carries hand sanitiser around and is constantly offering it to Vasco, who always carries hand cream around, and is constantly offering it to Machete.

Both are well-versed in music and have refined musical tastes.

Vasco hums wholeheartedly whilst doing the dishes - a chore Machete likes to avoid where possible. Vasco knows this, so he pretends he doesn’t mind doing them.

Machete often has a headache and Vasco’s usual first response to this is to ask Machete if he’s had enough water today. He’s often right.

Vasco scarcely thinks of the other paths his life could have taken. Though he knows pain, he feels very fortunate for all the good he’s been dealt in life, and attributes his good luck mostly to happy accidents. Machete on the other hand has unexpected moments of stark awareness of all the possible forks in his road. It’s a sudden deja vu that creeps up on him when he’s alone, almost as if he can remember all of his and Vasco’s past/ potential lives together. The feeling vanishes just as soon as it arrives.

Hot dang anon I LOVE these. Unwelcome UNWELCOME? You come to my house and present me with thoughtful interpretations of my characters, I feel nourished.

I can definitely see Vasco being a popular choice for a team captain. He's physically active but not ultra sporty, and even though he can get excited and carried away, he's never been that competitive (he's got that 'I just hope both teams have fun' sort of vibe that people tend to like).

The texting bit is terribly cute. Vasco rapid firing message after message vs Machete intermittently slapping half an essay in the chat.

Machete is hypochondriac and his threshold for seeking threatment is low, especially if he's experiencing anything he's not already familiar with. To my understanding Italy has a good quality universal public healthcare, but he typically chooses to go with private sector anyway and has been investing in pricey health insurance for years (probably way more extensive than what is necessary or reasonable).

I also thought of Vasco as a habitual blood donor. He wouldn't like it per se (medical surroundings unnerve him), but I think he might just get a kick out of being a good boy and potentially helping people. (I know gay, bi and msm men used to be banned from donating (or at least severely restricted) but it looks like many countries have revised their criteria significantly in recent years and there's a good chance he'd be eligible these days.)

The hand sanitizer/hand cream combo is so good. It made me chuckle. (Are you a hand sanitizer person or a hand cream person?)

Their respective tastes in music and cinema have more overlap than you might initially think, and they keep aligning closer and closer over time.

Machete wouldn't like doing dishes. Having to touch wet food (weird texture + unhygienic) is bad times all around. But he genuinely enjoys a little bit of vacuuming, dusting, laundry and general tidying and organizing. He doesn't leave that much for Vasco to do, just the occasional visibly messy jobs that squick him out more than he cares to admit.

That's very considerate of him. That's a very considerate thing to do to anyone in general. Dehydration and low blood sugar can really sour your mood and you wouldn't even notice they were the reason you're feeling so bad all of a sudden. (When I'm having a difficult day I try to remember to ask myself whether things are truly collapsing or am I potentially just a little too thirsty and hungry and unaware of it. Usually it's the latter).

Ah yes, Machete and the horrors. Vasco might be aware of the horrors as well, but perhaps he possesses the specific kind of galaxy brain that is near immune to this particular flavor of existential dread.

#sorry for rambling folks it's just really fun when someone has a brain cell that vibrates at the same frequency as yours #I hope you don't mind that I'm more or less accepting these as facts and incorporating them as part of their character #they're so fitting #anonymous #answered #Vasco #Machete #Vaschete lore #modern au #long post

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 month

Text

Special Interest 7

Warnings: non/dubcon, age gap, creep behaviour, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Cole Turner, short!reader

Part of the Bookstore AU

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You try to focus on your needles but find yourself distracted by your mother’s churlish cackles. Even with your music on, her performance rings through and Cole’s rocky undertones seep in. Why hasn’t he left yet? Ugh. You really can’t believe she invited him over. Or that your dad would let her.

You give up after having to redo several stitches. What a pair made in hell! Your mother is all about her fairytales and he’s a great panderer. Well, he’s old enough, maybe they should just be friends. You have no obligation to forgive him, not even tolerate him.

You lay down on your bed in defeat. You turn the music up from your phone and try to tune out reality. Billie Eilish can’t sing loud enough.

As you reach a special reward on your favourite addictive merge game, there’s a knock at your door. You don’t answer as you go for the final match. The thumping gets louder and your mother hollers over the music.

“Dinner!” She barks, “turn that down.”

You get up and pause the music. You open the door and lean against it, “thought I wasn’t invited to dinner.”

“Can you be mature for one night?” She reproaches.

“I am, I’m minding my business,” you shrug.

“Please, honey, I never taught you to act like this when we have company.”

“Oh really, I’ll have to call up Aunt Gina–”

“Don’t say that name to me,” she snaps, “just come have dinner. And try to be nice.”

“What’s for dinner?” You ask.

“Pork chops, baked beans, and a veggie medley,” she announces.

“Fine,” you relent. You’re hungry enough to justify a plate.

You follow her downstairs, tucking your phone into your back pocket as you descend. You follow her into the kitchen and open the cupboard. Before you can slide a plate out, she closes the door, nearly catching your hand in it.

“What are you doing? Plates are on the table. Where we’ll be eating.”

“Mom,” you whine.

“Stop that,” she wags a finger at you.

You hold back a harrumph and keep from rolling your eyes until she turns away. You tramp after your mom into the dining room, keeping your gaze straight ahead. You pointedly ignore the stranger at the table. That’s what he is. You might know him but you have no desire to know that man.

Your father sits across from the intruder and you go to claim the seat next to him. Your mother tuts, “honey, I’m sitting beside your father.”

You pout and look at the other option, right next to… him. You drag your feet around the table and slide into the chair stiffly. You wait with your hands in your lap. You have a mission; eat and dip.

“Well, dig in,” your mother chimes.

You practice your patience well. Your mom will have no reason to reproach you. You wait for the man next to you to serve himself. After all, she sees him as a guest so it’s only right.

As Cole takes a pork chop between the long tongs, he angles it over your plate, “this big enough?”

Your lashes flick up and you refuse to look at him or the cut, “sure.”

“Honey,” your mother hisses, “Cole, that is so sweet of you.”

“Well, my mom always taught me, ladies first,” he plops the chop down before he takes his own.

‘My mom…’ even you don’t talk about your maternal creator that much. He’s giving a very specific sort of vibe.

Your mother’s toe hits your calf and you wince. Her eyes flare and you clear your throat, “thank you,” you eke out.

“No problem,” he grabs the dish of beans, “how much?”

You weigh your response. You know what he’s doing. He’s trying to make you look bad. Joke’s on him, with your parents, that’s not that hard.

“Half a scoop is fine,” you utter.

He diligently serves you, finishing off with a heaping servings of veggies. Your stomach growls, betraying you just like your parents. You grab your fork as your father fills his plate in turn as he turns his attention on Cole.

“Lifesaver,” he praises, “that back-up was haunting me. Now the wife can’t nag about a broken sink.”

“Ah, it was easy,” Cole assures him.

“Wife says you come from a farm, must be handy,” your dad intones.

“Sure, you just sorta figure things out,” he slices into his pork chop and you poke at a piece of broccoli, “I’m more the green thumb type. My pa’s really the handy one. I just follow his lead.”

“Must be a good man,” your dad nods.

“I’m tryna learn as much from him as I can,” Cole agrees.

“Aren’t you like… forty?” You scoff.

Your mother drops her fork and gasps. Your father looks at you, appalled.

“Well, I mean, how much more can you learn?” You sniff, “probably learned it all by now, right?”

“Uh, yeah, he is getting older,” Cole answers grimly, “I gotta do a lot more of the heavy lifting.”

Your stomach sinks. Why did you have to say anything? You’re stupid and yet his preening was annoying. How did they not see some middle-aged dude who harassed a woman half his age in a bookstore because he thinks he knows better than a girl with a crochet book? Some big farm oaf.

“That wasn’t very nice,” your dad says, “why don’t you take a few lessons and apologise.”

“I…” you stammer and suck in your cheeks. You squint and stare at the joint of wall and ceiling, “sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

“You can apologise to him and not the wall,” your dad girds.

You huff through your nose and put your fork down. You turn in your chair to Cole and grit down your agitation. Why don’t they care that he’s invaded your life in the weirdest way possible? No one is that helpful for no reason.

“I’m sorry that your dad is old,” you say tritely.

“That’s not–” your father begins.

“Go to your room,” your mom speaks over him, “now. You’re embarrassing yourself.”

“You can’t just banish me to my room. I’m not a teenager,” you face her.

“You’re acting like one so go,” she demands.

“Gladly,” you slap your hands on the table and stand.

“It’s fine,” Cole says softly, making himself sound as pathetic as he can.

“It’s not fine, honey,” your mother insists and waves you out dismissively, “I am so sorry. You don’t deserve that after all you’ve done.”

You stomp out and shake your head. This is why your parents fell for that time-share. You’re the only one with sense and they refuse to see it.

#cole turner #dark cole turner #dark!cole turner #cole turner x reader #special interest #drabble #series #bookstore au #au #ghosted

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xxnomadsxx · 3 months

Note

okay, we know how Branch found the feral things and started a grey troll village in your nomads au. And how Creek ended up in the village. BUT, how did the rest of the occupants come to be? Did they willing leave their kingdoms? Were they abandoned? Did they get lost and lose hope of anyone ever coming for them before they met the feral creatures and the others? I really wanna know some backstories.

Oooooo-This is a tough one.

Everyone in the village has there own story for why there their. These are a few examples I thought up of how they got there.

Pop: There are very few Pop trolls in the grey village (mostly due to their toxic positivity of always looking on the bright side for normal Pop trolls ) they basically were separated from the main tribe and didn’t find the putt putt trolls on there way out when escaping. Soon they lost all hope of finding the tribe and went to live in the wood (it went reeeeaaallly bad) a few were eaten and the rest went grey, they were kinda just wandering around for a few years till the (very few) nomads and feral (trolls?) showed up. They were taken in and found Branch there too. The grey pop trolls also were told were the village was but they didn’t go back because they were too ashamed about being grey.

Funk: There is a group of funk trolls in the village who all came in at the same time. They were researchers who were left behind by vibe city and had no hope of getting back to the always moving ship, so they went grey and were later found by a small hunting team and Branch while trying to create some traps to keep them safe (there are more funk trolls I’m just showing off random examples of how trolls got here)

Classical: There are a few classical trolls who can’t fly in the village due to wing injuries. The injuries go from difficult to stay in the air, to broken beyond repair, and looking at how there body is shaped (they have the bodies of LITERAL babies can they walk?) I don’t think it’s easy for them to get around since symphony vill is probably mostly made to fly around. It got too difficult for them and just left going grey in the process.

Techno: There once was a dead techno troll who had some troll eggs with them beached on a nearby river to the village, they took in the techno eggs (The eggs HAVE to look like fish eggs right.. RIGHT?!) the trolling when they hatched just sorta knew there mother was gone and were born grey. they grew up in the village which didn’t…really help them get better and just sorta caused them more issues.(there have been a few lost techno trolls who had damaged fins to the point of not even being able to go back)

Rock: A lot more rock trolls live in the village then the other genres, mostly cause of their more feral and aggressive personalities (they look like biters) so some just had bad experiences in there lives that it just became too much and they just ended up Leaving volcano rock city. There is a rock troll who can’t hear in the village, and due to his deafness he felt like a freak to troll kind since he couldn’t even listen to music (which is kinda a big deal) he left and turned grey wandering the woods until he was found by some feral(trolls?) who have done the same routine of taking in grey trolls a lot at that point.

Country: There aren’t to many country (I feel like it would be harder for them to turn grey since they show how sad it can get in Lonesome flats) but the some who do show up have tons of kids, a while back a couple of country trolls were deemed criminals for liking another genre of music and playing it too loud, to which they were promptly kicked out of town, who later turned grey from getting forced to leave there only home. They were found fighting predators by a hunting team. (this was way before world tour so a lot less tolerance for other music)

Subgenres: There are some subgenre groups running around, like indie trolls, steam punk trolls, some grunge too (and many more) they usually are abandoned or just turn grey from living a isolated lonely life or some other reason like family was killed or taken by huge predators or what not.

Honestly most of them stay grey or go darker in color because they live in the village. It isn’t really going out of its way to help them get their color back but is really just a home for them. Growing up there influences many of the kids born there to turn grey or go grey later in their lives.

There are many other reasons why any of the trolls would be here these are just random scenariosthat I thought up to show as examples

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delopsia · 5 months

Note

del 💓 you said “rhett wants to jump straight to putting up the christmas tree and related decor, and bobby has to fight for his life to keep it at bay” and it got me wondering if this is how things go in the floytt household? 😂 do robby and reader kind of bend to rhett’s will and desires a lot of the time? does he pout for things and butter them up with kisses and hugs and soft-drawled pleas, or has he just taken to independent freedom and happiness so hard that he just starts doing things and neither reader nor robby have the heart to stop him—except where winter holiday decorations are concerned?

omg and not to encourage rhett 😂 but what does the floytt family christmas tree look like?

first of all, real or fake? i have a feeling that someone is allergic and thankfully knows it so decorating and subsequent celebrating goes off without a hitch...

is it rhett-sized or much shorter? the thought of any of them being taller than their tree is a little hilarious to me...

is it pine green or white / vintage colorful? can christmas-loving rhett appreciate wacking aesthetics from the 60s or is he a red and green traditionalist?

colorful lights or white lights? random collection of ornaments or matching cohesive store bought? i know what i think, but i wanna hear what you think 😌

are they tinsel garland people? or popcorn string people?

do they make it a whole affair, putting it up and decorating? are they playing music while they eat seasonal snacks and sweets from the grocery store? omg do they bake cookies? i think christmas is the only time of year that rhett will eat non-fruit sweets and desserts, but robby says it hardly counts because everything still has a tendency to be fruity or vanilla, not to mention most of it is candy cane flavored!

rhett ends up eating all those (i don’t know if you know what i’m talking about because they might be regional or generational [omg] but i hope you do) vanilla snowmen stick-less ice cream bars on him in retaliation *cue tackling in 3, 2, 1*

and please don’t stress too hard about the void au 🥺☁️💕💐

aaaa! omg hello 💐💕

It...it is...

A majority of the time, Robby is just fighting for his life in this household. He has his set dates for when every holiday celebration should begin, how early is too early, and what the best day is to take down the decor...and Rhett is simply fueled by the sheer power of vibes. It drives Bob mad. There's no order! If Rhett could have his way, Halloween decor would be out in August, Christmas would be up November 1st, and it would stay up past Valentine's Day.

But his excitement is so damn contagious. How is anyone supposed to say no when Rhett's got a Santa hat held between his teeth as he digs through a box in search of their matching candy cane keychains? Bob tries for all of half a second, but then Rhett's looking up at him with those big, confused puppy eyes, and the effort flies out the window.

Usually, it ends in a compromise of baking Christmas cookies the day after Halloween and getting out the small things. But the tree stays put away until the day after Thanksgiving. It is not coming out any earlier than that. But there was that one year when he was away on deployment, and Rhett convinced the Reader to get it out in early November.

Bob's still (jokingly) annoyed about that, by the way.

I could have sworn that somewhere around here, I mentioned Bob having a pine allergy...but I cannot find it to save my life. A part of me likes to think that Rhett grew up having a real tree every year, and now he's just perpetually confused about the whole fake tree thing. Why does it feel like that?

dfkjgh the concept of using Rhett as a unit of measurement is so funny to me 😭 there are two trees. The first one came about the first year in the house. With the chaos of getting settled in and work getting in the way, Christmas took a weird place on the back burner, where it was high on the list of things to do but kept getting pushed off. Rhett's knee was hurting him, Bob and Reader went off and got sick twice, and all of a sudden, it was December 3rd and they had no damn tree. So Bob, mid-sickness, bought one online.

You can imagine his and Reader's surprise when they came home to find Rhett in the living room, staring down at the frailest tree they'd ever seen. Fully set up, fluffed, and leaning over because the tree topper was too damn big. It didn't even have lights!

The joys of no-return policies and not reading the fine print.

Twas a true Charlie Brown Christmas. That poor tree had to sit in the corner because it would just...fall over. Reader looked at it funny one afternoon, and the damn thing dropped dead.

But the second tree is a completely different story. The high ceilings in the living room allow them to get away with virtually any sized tree, and one way or another, they wound up with a ten-foot-tall tree (Which is the only thing stopping Rhett from getting it out by himself). They had their choice between a regular green and a flocked tree; the Reader was the deciding factor on which they got. It's got the fancy color-changing mode because nobody could decide on colorful or light.

Bob usually sets it on white, and then Rhett passes by and sets it to the blinking rainbow setting. It's a quiet war every year.

The ornaments start out cohesive, but the next year, the Reader finds their decor that went missing during the move, and things slowly start to randomize. Some fall and break. The trio finds adorable new sets of ornaments that weren't out the year prior, and the aesthetic falls into adorable disarray.

The only consistent decor is the topper. An adorable animated biplane that Nat gifted them. Always happily spinning at the top of the tree and will only ever be replaced if they inexplicably discover a version with an F/A-18...

I don't know if this counts as a Christmas tree, but there's a two-foot-tall rainbow tree in the kitchen that Rhett inexplicably came home with one day. A gift from a well-meaning boss who doesn't quite get the whole "just because I'm married to two people doesn't mean I'll only accept Pride-themed gifts" thing. It serves as home to all the weird ornaments that get collected over the year.

A chicken wing ornament simply does not belong on the main tree...

With three people, the tree gets busy a little...fast...so the tinsel garland makes an adorable appearance on the staircase banister. Usually matching the wreath on the front door.

It's an entire weekend venture! Saturdays are reserved for the tree-related fussings (getting a ten-foot tree out of the attic is a hell of a venture), and Sundays are for the general decor. Wreaths, knick-knacks, stockings over the fireplace, various figurines, and the stuff in the front yard. The three deer are the first to go out there, because, one way or another, each member of the household is represented by one of the deer. One might or might not have an old pair of glasses hot-glued to its face...

Festive music is a must! Rhett's still got some CDs that he used to play in his truck, and once those have been played out, it switches to whatever playlist someone has made. Sometimes, they'll take a break and head to the grocery store for some seasonal snacks out of the bakery section, but a lot of the time, someone has already brought some home. There's an adorable bakery on the route home, and it's so hard to not stop at.

Baking cookies, omg. Bobby's momma gifted them a 12 Days of Christmas Cookies recipe book, and every year they go through it. They try to bake one set every few days, but every once in a while, something happens, and like four types get baked in a day. Rhett's partial to Kołaczki (Polish filled cookies), and Cowboy Cookies. Who could have guessed. Bob is a simple man who would commit a crime for Danish Butter Cookies. Please don't ask how many blue tins he owns. He's lost count.

But nothing can come between these two and their mints. Buttermints, candy canes, those soft peppermint puffs that are sold by more brands than I can count but always seem to taste the same. They're insufferably minty until they run out of mints after the New Year. If it's mint, they're eating it.

I swear I have seen these vanilla snowman bars somewhere! I know I've never had them, but they looked so damn familiar when I looked them up. They absolutely get rationed out because otherwise, Rhett will eat them all in the span of two days.

But then there was also that year when Bob brought home a couple boxes of them, and Rhett moved them out to the garage freezer because they kept falling every time he opened the door. Except, he didn't tell Bob, so that coming Friday, Bob came home with more.

Rinse and repeat until he cracks and asks how Rhett and Reader have eaten so damn many so fast, and Rhett realizes what happened. That may have been the longest wrestling match they've ever had.

In better news, they had enough snowmen to last till Spring.

#rhett abbott #robert bob floyd #bob floyd #bob floyd x reader x rhett abbott #💐#delgato's asks #milesmillergf #tw food #hawthorn au

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imarvelatthestars · 2 years

Text

Motion Sickness

Pairings: Moon Knight system x Reader

Warnings: hurt/comfort, depiction of depression, will-they-won't-they vibes, OOC Marc; not a warning, but the boys all switch easily so this is kind of an au or post-show setting where they're all on the same page and sharing their lives

Inspired by 'Motion Sickness' by Phoebe Bridgers and my depression lol.

"What's wrong?"

Jake's gruff voice catches your attention. It's just loud enough to sound over the music blasting through your headphones. He's watching you in the rearview mirror, cap pulled low over his eyes but you can still see them and the way his eyebrows are furrowed and wrinkled above them.

You push one of the speakers away from your ear so it rests against your skull and you can hear him better.

"What?" You heard him fine the first time, but you need that extra second to collect yourself.

He points to your headphones with a look that says he doesn't want to deal with any of your bullshit. "What's wrong?" he repeats and it's not a question this time.

You hitch your voice up a bit, put on that fake tint that makes you sound a little more normal, the one that usually works on everyone else. "Who said something's wrong?" Your smile doesn't quite reach your eyes, but you try hard all the same. "I'm just listening to my music."

He knows you too well for you to pull the wool over his eyes. You can see it in the way his shoulders are hard, jagged lines extending past the driver's seat, how his jaw tightens and his nostrils flare ever so slightly. Damn him.

"Don't bullshit me," and then he says your name all rough and exasperated and it sparks tears in your eyes. You turn your head so you're looking out the window. "I'll pull this car over."

"Just drop it, Jake." If he pushes too hard, you'll break, shatter all over the backseat of this stupid fucking Jeep and you don't think him and all his alters would be enough to pick up your pieces. Not this time. "I'm fine."

"You're not."

And your heart slams into your spine. Steven's voice is gentle, firm, knowing. Your eyes flicker to the mirror, catch a glimpse of that little upward quirk of his brows, the thing that only Steven does, that warms your heart and stomach and soul like nothing else.

"I'm fine." But your voice quivers at the end.

The car swerves, throws you against your window, and your stomach plummets to the depths of your torso. The freeway guardrail comes up fast and for a second you think Jake's going to drive you both right through it, but he doesn't. Of course he doesn't. He's the designated driver for a reason, but that doesn't mean he's not reckless. The outside of your door almost scrapes against the metal as the car comes to a halt.

"Jake," you start. Now you're just tired. You don't want confrontation, you don't want peering eyes, invasive questions, or overtly curious glances in the mirror. That's why you sat in the back in the first place. That's why you put on your headphones and started blasting miserably angsty pop ballads. "Please don't."

"You're sad."

Fuck you. But you're impressed that he figured it out.

He almost smiles when you finally find the courage to meet his eyes and there's a softness to him that steals your breath. "You really thought I wouldn't notice, bonita?" Then his shoulders shift and that softness in his eyes stays. "We always notice."

You have to close your eyes. This kindness is too much, it's cutting into your gut and bleeding you dry. He's so attentive, so attuned to you that of course he noticed. It was stupid to think none of them would. But God, you'd really hoped they'd ignore it. Everyone else was either fooled by your act or didn't pry. Not him, not them. Never them.

"I just woke up on the wrong side of the bed." You can hear him click his tongue and you're sure if you sneaked a peek, he'd have his head tilted to the side and that one eyebrow raised in the way that always drives you crazy. "Seriously. I'm just in a mood today, okay? Can we drop it, please?"

There's your name again, gentle and tender on Marc's tongue and it nearly does you in. Your chest is physically aching from all the pain and memories and piercing shards of your depression rubbing against your ribcage. You don't remember when it all started to crumble in on you, but it's come to a head today and now you feel half like you're drowning and half like you're not even here.

His hand comes down on your knee and the sob that's been building up in the back of your throat finally crests, slams you forward into a blubbering bundle of tears. His seatbelt clanks on the window, the car jostles, and then he's in the back with you; you're not sure if he climbed over the seat or went out the door. He has his hands on your shoulders, soothing over the arch of your neck and down your spine to your shoulder blades.

"Hey, hey," he coos. You collapse into him and the scent of his cologne washes over you. "It's okay, baby, it's okay."

He's never called you baby before. You hate that this is what's prompted him to do it. And you cry even harder. Your gut still aches from where the kindness of this mountain of a man, always covered in blood and desert sand and his own regrets, has ripped you open.

A few broken phrases stumble out of your mouth as you dribble all over yourself, something along the lines of "I'm sorry" and "I promise I'm okay" and "thank you" and "please don't go", and Marc holds you even closer. He mouths at your hairline, wraps a hand around the nape of your neck.

"I knew you weren't your usual self," he whispers and his breath is warm on your skin. "You don't gotta push me away. I hate it when you do that."

How do you tell him that you were just trying to keep yourself safe? Trying to protect whatever it was your relationship had become? "Didn't want to bother you," you sniffle between little hiccups. It's easier to say the words to the curve of his pectoral than to his face. "Didn't want you to worry or think I was stupid. It'll pass, it always does, I just-"

His hand slips down your cheek, thumb brushing your jawline as his finger curls under your chin and tilts your head back. God, if that doesn't make your stomach twist. You're breathless. You couldn't breathe if you wanted to, if you tried. You're caught under the weight of his gaze and there's nowhere else you'd rather be, but it's not fully comfortable either.

"You're not stupid." He's breathless too.

You're struck by the realization that you love him, which isn't anything new, but it's never been so deep and consuming as it is now. Because you feel safe.

"Should've just told us. We would've understood, I would've-..." He sighs, shakes his head, and you're still caught in his grasp and it's making you cry again, but not because you're sad. "I'm not always an ass, you know." And when he smiles, you smile too. "Can't say the same about the other two."

His body jolts forward into yours and your noses bump as Steven pushes his way to the front. "Oy! I'm the nicest one of the lot, you!" he protests. And Jake shoulders him to the side with a muttered, "Watch it, hermano," but there's no bite. "Of all the cheek," Steven adds before pressing a kiss to the spot between your brows. His hands are on your cheeks and you're sure he can feel how warm they are.

"We're here for you, dovey. Always. You never hafta hide from us."

#jake lockley x reader #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #moon knight #moon knight x reader #marvel #steven grant #jake lockley #marc spector #i'm not sure where i wanted this to go but.... this is certainly something #i've just been feeling really out of it lately and hoped that if i wrote about it it would help #hope you all enjoy!

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soleilnomoon · 9 months

Note

Sooo.... there's no way I could ever resist submitting a request in one of your events. +_+ Been hurrying to get up from bed for this, I hope I'll still catch a slot :D so excited you're doing this!!!!

Can I please have some mangos and strawberries, with a Mai Tai (Ace)? <3 I'd love to listen to any combination of the songs #3, #9, #39, #43 (sorry, but this SCREAMS of Ace; also any variant of it, like talking to a 3rd person about it), #38 (couldn't resist the combination). OMG. It's soooo hard to choose....! There's so many combi-ideas! +_+ I absolutely love this! Thank you so much for doing this event! :D

omg hiiii 🥰️ that pic is killing me 😭😭 lmaooo *shakes u* so i rewrote this like 10x i think, but it’s finally done and i am v excited for you to read it. also i’m so happy you requested, you always pick good prompts lmao anyway, ty for being patient 😊 as u know i’m slow as hell when it comes to writing — also the fluff almost killed me!!!! 💗

3.5k words (pls pls i know i know!!!! it's not my fault, i blame ace), fem reader, nsfw, 18+ mdni; fluff (it's there i promise, somewhere) & smut (and angst that u didn't ask for <3); modern au! feat. ace being a menace as usual, reader in denial (serious serious denial) of her feelings, reader's a lil shyyy ok, public sex, (slight) public exhibition, public sex, choking, rough sex, hand job, oral (m receiving), ace being shirtless is a warning, childhood frenz 2 lovers (who am i), mutual pining, reader is foolish & needs to be honest, ace needs to calm down but he never will. idk! probably more stuff idr yk the vibes. (if u see spelling errors/grammar mistakes, no u didn't bb 💕)

a warm breeze wraps itself around your arms and legs, languid and loving — a heavy embrace that unjustly suffocates, with a light sheen of sweat that belatedly appears on your forehead. your denim shorts ride up higher on your thighs the more you move around; for some reason, you just can’t seem to get comfortable. loud music wafts from your parents’ house through the open sliding doors, the beats catchy and mesmerizing, lulling you into a much more relaxed state as you continue to lounge on the hammock in the backyard. another breeze glides along your skin, making you roll over onto your back, the rope from the hammock rough but comforting.

to keep yourself from spiraling, you close your eyes and soak up as much of the sun as possible. your lips are a little red and sticky from the popsicle you ate just a few minutes ago; it helped to cool you down for a bit, but the heat is relentless and oppressive.

after graduating from college, you left home and traveled for a few years; you’ve always had that itch, a desire to roam about freely without having anything — or anyone — tying you down. it’s why you left so quickly; it’s why you didn’t say goodbye properly; and it’s why you’ve been on edge all afternoon.

you groan loudly before covering your face with your hands.

“this is so stupid.” your words are muffled and strained, your frustration rising along with the temperature outside. it’s simple — all you have to do is casually strike up conversation with him and act like nothing’s changed.

so easy, right?

you desperately want it to be, but the universe has a penchant for bad jokes and the punch line is currently on its way to disrupt your life.

“he probably won’t even come by anyway,” you continue to mumble before dropping your hands. a frown climbs onto your lips afterwards. the idea that your parents might actually be wrong, that he isn’t going to come by like he promised he would, is all too much for you to deal with.

and suddenly, you feel like you can’t breathe; the air grows thick enough to choke on, an obnoxious thudding growing louder and louder in your ears—

but before you can succumb to your unfortunate demise, someone pinches your nose, disrupting the chaotic flow of thoughts pummeling into you one right after the other. squirming around, you stare, wide-eyed, at the last person you thought you’d see today.

despite pressing his lips together, it does nothing to stop him from laughing at you — not maliciously, but he really can’t help it. your look of genuine shock and confusion is cute. really, really cute. adorable, even. maybe it’s because he hasn’t seen you in so long, or maybe it’s because he’s been waiting for a moment like this to pop up so you both can finally have that one conversation you keep running away from.

you are wholly unprepared to see ace this soon; words rush from the pit of your stomach up to your mouth, ready to fling ace’s way without restraint. but, as always, you hold back. you’ve gotten quite good at biting your tongue, at stamping out certain emotions; it’s better, easier that way.

no one gets hurt, right?

right.

with a sly smile, ace slides his sunglasses away from his face, upwards onto his hair; you were in such a daze that you barely heard him walk over. which worked out fine for ace, because he could look at you freely without you hiding from him like you usually do — a thing he hopes you’ve grown out of in the time you’ve spent apart.

if you thought you couldn’t breathe before, you’re definitely gasping for air now. lips parted, you inhale deeply as a completely different kind of heat surges through you faster than you’d like. he pauses for a moment before gently swiping his thumb along your plush bottom lip.

an insidious thudding echoes loudly around your ears, and you realize, in fear, that it’s the sound of your heart — beating erratically at his proximity and touch. talking feels impossible, so you remain silent and stare at him in disbelief.

it feels like an eternity passes before ace smiles again, your eyes track the way his lips slowly curve upward, bringing about that familiar dimple in his right cheek. something possesses you to reach up to touch his cheek, the tips of your fingers barely grazing his skin when you realize what you’re doing. you snatch your hand back quickly, a light-headedness descending upon you right after.

on impulse, ace leans down until his lips ghost over yours, the familiarity of the gesture triggering a memory so strong that goosebumps unceremoniously prickle your skin without remorse. you remember exactly how skillful his mouth is; you remember how your limbs were tangled with his; and you remember how you almost blurted out a hidden truth that you refused to admit to. he’d gone still, nearly statuesque as an unreadable look morphed onto his face; fear of rejection had you scrambling away from his embrace, nearly out of breath as you darted out of his bedroom without looking back.

remorse finds its way to you again, but your thoughts are too scattered to properly feel it. if you don’t figure something out soon, you’ll give in to him all over again — and you simply can’t do that.

however, ace has a way of diverting your plans with his whims and spontaneity.

“hey, pretty,” he says, voice low and husky, with a hint of that mischievous and boyish charm he’s well-known for; his hand on your hip is practically scalding, his thumb coasting dangerously on your soft stomach, but you don’t push him away. a soft whimper dares to slip out of your mouth when his grip tightens and you’re so sure that he’s going to kiss you — but he doesn’t.

ace straightens up and sticks his hands into his pockets, all innocent-like, completely disregarding the fact that he’s the reason why your heart is beating loud enough to rattle your bones. his cologne lingers — a rich and heavy, spiced scent with hints of blackberry — and you get drunk from it, mind a little hazy. you’re in too much shock to feel any sort of shame, and if he wasn’t so intent on teasing you for a bit longer, he would’ve already succumbed to the temptation of kissing you.

he really just meant to say hi, but you were being cute while talking out loud to yourself, your voice traveling further than you probably wanted; it was the sight of your exposed legs — curvy and soft, skin glistening almost flawlessly under the sun — that really fueled his audacity. since you’re prone to running, he did the only thing that made sense: invade your personal space. it’s the only way to keep you still long enough to talk.

or, so he thought.

“w-what are you doing here?” you ask in a panic, moving around on the hammock, eyes widening again as you shamelessly stare at his chest. he still has that peculiar habit of walking around shirtless, which is your justification for why you keep looking at him like that — his abs look more defined than before, but you refrain from touching him again.

ace completely ignores your question and instead says, “you’re hot.” he tilts his head a bit, that sly grin finding its way onto his lips again when you stumble over your words.

“i—what?”

you sit up and climb off the hammock with clumsy and hurried movements. thankfully he has the decency to not laugh this time, but that pesky dimple resurfaces, and you have to ball your hands into fists and sink your nails into your palms to keep yourself from saying something unnecessary and embarrassing.

“why are you—” you cut yourself off, take a deep breath, and try again, “i don’t understand.”

is he joking? he has to be, there’s no way he’s forgiven you for leaving him like that; and even though he called you pretty earlier, you’re sure that’s just his way of wanting to rile you up for his own amusement.

and while you’re not entirely wrong about that, he was being serious.

he lifts his chin and motions to your chest; sweat glides down your neck and sneaks in between your cleavage. you realize, then, that he meant that you literally looked hot. pressing your lips together firmly, you decide against speaking and opt to march past him instead. you don’t get far, if anything ace only allows you to move a few feet away before wrapping a strong arm around your waist and pulling you back.

your mouth dries and you try to wiggle out of his grasp, but he doesn’t let up.

“you’re hurting my feelings, y’know,” he says quietly, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. you bite your lower lip before rolling it in between your teeth, contemplating his words. you know you’re being ridiculous, and you know you owe him an explanation — your cowardice nearly wins out, but you settle down and sigh softly.

“you’re right, i’m sorry.” for so many things, but you keep that bit to yourself.

ace only laughs again at your austere demeanor. “just kidding, i just want to be selfish right now.” something about that sets your skin on fire, although it probably doesn’t help that ace places a kiss on the side of your neck before you can respond to him properly.

suddenly, all that fight that you had — that determination to avoid him completely — leaves your body. on a sharp inhale you turn around and look up at him curiously, to see if he’s actually being serious or not; ace stares at you intently, adoration saturated in lust clouding his vision. he holds onto the back of your neck and kisses you, his tongue playfully licking your bottom lip, grinning at how sweet you taste.

you shiver and open your mouth for him as he kisses you again, slow and sensuous, your legs nearly giving out from the intensity. his hand travels down your back, its descent searing and playful; you kiss him back with fervor and enthusiasm, lips moving against his as if this is a common occurrence for you two.

his tongue swirls around yours and when his large hand moves lower to grab your ass, you nearly lose your mind. there’s an intense, unavoidable ache in between your thighs as you cling onto him desperately, whimpering softly against his lips. he told himself he’d take it slow, but the way you’re reacting to him only confirms what he’s always known: you want him just as much as he wants you.

it’s in between heated tongue kisses that ace suggests a change in location. dazed and slightly confused, you feel yourself nodding as he tugs you along with him, anticipation making you stumble over your sandaled feet. he has half a mind to just carry you back inside, but you eventually keep up with his long strides. you hide behind ace when your parents step outside, boisterously chatting with a few of their guests as they sit at the table on the deck underneath the large awning. you’re glad they barely take notice of you — they’re halfway drunk already — and ace laughs at your demure behavior, prompting you to pinch his arm playfully and shushing him. it’s your feeble attempt at sneaking by without anyone interrogating you.

when you successfully make it back into your house, you let out a sigh, embracing the cool air.

“that was close,” you say out loud and at ace’s puzzled expression, you motion to your parents outside, “they almost saw us.”

he blinks slowly and lifts a brow. “so?” ace has never been one to hide like that, so he’s unsure why you want to.

“what do you mean ‘so’?” your face burns as soon as the words leave your mouth; you’re not sure why you’re feeling bashful, but it becomes harder and harder to look at ace. maybe it’s because you’re so aroused that you’d let him fuck you in the kitchen without complaint, or maybe it’s because you can’t come to terms with your feelings for him.

or, maybe it’s a combination of both.

either way, ace doesn’t know why you care.

sighing loudly he walks out of the kitchen, fully expecting you to follow — and you do. you’re unsure if you’ve said the wrong thing; actually, you know you’ve said the wrong thing, but before you can apologize, ace pushes you against the wall, hands placed on either side of your head as he cages you in.

“who cares if anyone sees?”

he’s right, you know that; it doesn’t make it any less embarrassing. but when he presses places a kiss on your neck, you melt — heart beating faster than necessary, making you dizzy with want. you place your hands on his chest, his muscles firm under your soft touch; ace inhales sharply when you bring your hands lower, his cock stiff and heavy in his shorts, an irritating reminder that his self-restraint is dissipating quickly.

later on, when you reflect on this moment, you’ll chastise yourself about how impulsive you both were — fucking in your hallway while your parents entertain guests not even forty feet away — but for now, you just want to indulge in the fantasy and not think about anything.

ace grabs your wrist clumsily, suddenly remembering himself while halting your movements. you blink at him, confused and anxious; maybe he changed his mind about everything? maybe this was payback for the last time you were together — and, if you’re honest, you can’t exactly blame him. swallowing hard, you relax your face and opt for a more neutral expression.

normally much more forthcoming with his wants and desires, ace hesitates, momentarily, dark brows furrowed as a frown settles onto his lips.

“maybe we shouldn’t…,” he closes his eyes and presses his forehead against yours, inhaling deeply, your perfume immobilizing him temporarily before he speaks again. “you deserve better than me.”

you sit with his words for a moment but it’s not long before your hands work at tugging his shorts and underwear down. he looks at you, light brown cheeks flushed slightly when he notices the way you’re staring. you knew he was big, but goodness — still, you don’t let that deter you, and wrap a hand around his cock and slowly stroke it. ace lets out a quiet groan and it encourages you to move your hand faster.

with a soft peck on his lips, you say, “that’s not for you to decide.” which is all you’ll say on the matter. your feelings for him were too big for you to handle before, but now — now that you’ve been forced to confront your own damn self, a belated sense of clarity falls over you. it was never easy to convey your feelings into words when it came to him, but you’re very sure that he’ll understand you now.

ace’s hips jut forward when your grip around his cock tightens; he lets out a low hiss, doing his best not to be too loud since you’re so adamant about not getting caught. pre-cum spills from his slit, down onto your hand; a fascinating sight that has you sinking to your knees without much thought and replacing your hand with your mouth.

at that he moans much louder than he means to, but once your plush lips wrap around the thick head of his cock, he stops caring.

“fuck,” he breathes, leaning against the wall for support as you flick your tongue against his slit — a dangerous move, but one that you make with the full confidence that ace would, in turn, fuck you like you’ve always wanted him to.

you run your tongue down his length with gusto, as if his cock was an addictive summer treat. and, maybe it is, because you open your mouth and bob up and down his length. you use your hands for what you can’t fit in your mouth, moaning around him as you press your thighs together. your mouth is sinfully warm and wet — forbidden, almost; he grabs a fistful of your hair, holding you steady as he thrusts his hips forward.

holding onto his thighs, you slacken your jaw and keep your tongue flat, arousal building as he fucks your mouth. he knows he should be gentle, but he’s reached his limit and you’re being so compliant — he can’t really help himself. not that you mind, your panties are already damp from your slick arousal; his movements are rushed and purposeful, but you enjoy the way he’s seemingly lost control of himself.

you gag around him, breathe deeply through your nose, and ignore the tears that spill down your round cheeks. ace moans your name and your heart expands pitifully in your chest, warmth traveling all along your body. he knows he’ll never last if he keeps this up, so he pulls out of you without warning. you nearly fall over but you hold onto him, looking up at him curiously, long lashes tantalizing and mesmerizing as your tears start to dry.

he pulls you up to your feet and kisses you again with a hand wrapped around your throat; he gives it a teasing squeeze and you moan against his lips. it doesn’t take long before you unbutton your shorts and pull them down with your panties — your thighs trembling with each passing second. you wrap your legs around him possessively when he picks you up; the kisses grow more urgent and sloppier, your heart threatening to kill you mercilessly with how hard its beating.

this must be what dying feels like, you tell yourself, although when he rubs the tip of his cock in between your slick folds, you buck your hips forward and beg him to stop teasing you.

since he’s not that cruel, ace lines the head of his cock with your entrance and inches forward; sucking in a bit of air, you hold onto him tightly, and when you relax, ace thrusts into you. the moan you let out is absolutely indecent, your pussy a lewd, greedy thing that swallows his cock without much issue. with long strokes, ace knocks his hips against yours, a strangled cry slipping out of you unexpectedly. ace kisses you again and again — an attempt to keep you quiet — but soon, his strokes get shorter and frenzied as he fucks you harder, almost like he wants to incapacitate you with an orgasm.

you wouldn’t mind going out like that, especially when ace is fucking you like that, balls slapping against your ass loudly, mouth hungrily searching for his while you harshly drag your nails down the back of his neck. he doesn’t mind as the pain is minimal, and he likes the idea of you marking him the way he’s marked you.

it becomes increasingly difficult to keep quiet, but you’ve long forgotten why you needed to keep quiet in the first place. your saving grace is that your parents and their friends are more intoxicated than you originally thought and are in their own world as they laugh and dance outside. somewhere down the line, you lost your common sense — you suppose it happened when ace came to find you earlier — and because of that, you let go. your cunt squeezes around him tightly, your arousal coating the length of him; ace angles his hips and his cock reaches a spot that’s deep enough to make you babble at him incoherently.

he laughs and drops a playful kiss on your lips, his hands gripping your ass as he powers into you. a flash of white robs you of your vision, a liquid heat swirling around your lower abdomen as you cum hard with his name in your mouth. hips rolling forward, he bites your neck recklessly and your orgasm intensifies.

“oh, fuck, fuck, fuck. yes!” you chant without restraint, throat hoarse, voice raw. he breathes unevenly, thrusting feverishly into your puffy pussy, his own orgasm finding him shortly after.

ace groans as he presses open-mouthed kisses down your throat, your whines saccharine and enticing; there are so many things he wants (and needs) to say, but he pushes that aside, deciding to enjoy this moment with you instead. you pant lightly and hold onto him, heartbeat slowing until it matches his. you should probably hurry up and get dressed, since there’s no telling when someone will come through that hallway, but you can’t be bothered right now. you’re much more interested in the way ace kisses you again, leaving you breathless and terribly in love.

if you were privy to his thoughts, you’d know that he feels the same way and has felt that way for a long, long time — and sometimes he feels like he loves you a little too much. still, you feel much lighter now, sighing softly as you arch against him; the intimacy of it, surprisingly, doesn’t scare you, and now you wonder if maybe you were thinking too much about everything before. it seems that your problem has always had a simple solution, but you’re just glad that ace pushed you to figure it out. it isn’t something you’d normally do, but for ace you have a tendency to think and act impulsively without warning; he likes that side of you, and hopes that you’ll keep acting like that in the future.

#1.3k followers mini event #🔆💕🌴 feels like summer event 🥭💕🔆#milestone event #fic request #one piece imagine #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #one piece fluff #one piece smut #portgas d. ace x reader #portgas d. ace x y/n #portgas d. ace fluff #portgas d. ace smut #ace x reader #ace fluff #ace smut #i need y/n to bffr bc!!! this man would have me on my knees WEAK #i'm a clown just like y/n; cut from the same clown cloth #ace x y/n

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byronicbi · 5 days

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6 albums I’ve been listening to a lot lately! Plus one track from each that I’m especially fond of.

tagged by the wonderful @valenshawke!!

i haven't been doing much "full album" listening lately since going into a project usually means listening to a lot of tailored playlists, but i have been revisiting some... oldies.

Wish Upon A Blackstar - Celldweller; "Unshakeable" This was my first ever Celldweller album and it was introduced to me by a now defunct tumblr mutual about a decade ago. Apparently they thought "Blackstar" suited a character on my ongoing fic at the time, and I instantly fell in love with Klayton's music. "Unshakeable" is definitely on the playlist for one of my current MCs.

The Black Halo - Kamelot; "When the Lights Are Down" Kamelot is one of those bands Lil Goth me (freshman) got introduced to by an Elder Goth (senior) back in 2005, though "Ghost Opera" was technically the first ever song of theirs I ever listened to.

The Open Door - Evanescence; "Your Star" I wasn't joking about oldies. Again, surprising amount of MC vibes coming off this album which makes me fear for the poor guy's life.

POST HUMAN: SURVIVAL HORROR - Bring Me the Horizon; "1x1" So, the funny thing about "1x1" is that, at their core, every single one of my protagonists can be summed up by this one song and I don't know what that says about me as a writer. I mean, 'annihilation never looked so good' as a lyric never fails to make me want to headbang.

DEATH STRANDING: Timefall - Multiple artists; "Ghost" by Au/Ra My endgame as a creator is to become the next Hideo Kojima like I want to make my own company and make utterly self-indulgent and fucking insane shit how I want to make it and then have all my cool artist friends either star in it or record songs for soundtracks. That being said, I'm yet to come across a video game soundtrack that's just banger after banger after banger.

Love is Dead - CHVRCHES; "Graffiti" I came across this album during the beginning of the pandemic and I listened to it so many times that multiple people reached out to ask if my discord was glitched because the status kept showing the same songs over and over. I'm not sure why it latched onto me the way it did, but February 2020 was sure a time.

Honorable mentions!

7. Woman King - Iron & Wine; "Freedom Hangs Like Heaven"

8. Lifa - Heilung; "In Maidjan"

9. Pictures of Mountains - Cody Fry; "London" & "Photograph"

tagging @lucillesharpeapologist, @vanessaaftonsgirl, @opaleyedprince, @fortunatetragedy, @wrencatte SHOW ME YOUR MUSIC TASTES (but only if you want to, ofc!)

#texts.#boy howdy i'm all over the place when it comes to music.#tag game

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abyssal-ali · 9 months

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Maribat Ships and My Vibe Explanations

These are based on the most popular tropes and scenarios I've seen particularly for a specific ship, but some are my own vision:) Moodboards I made for each ship, which are partially inspired by the below thoughts, are linked in the ship name.

Brucinette:

Boss x Secretary trope or Socialite meets Other Socialite and Both Discover each other is Less Shallow than they Thought

Alternatively,

Hero x Villain Love story.

Look, we all know Bruce has a bad track record with his Rogues and also Love in general

Black Cat Mari is the most popular, probably, but I think we should see more Villain/ Morally Grey Mari with other Miraculi

Not my favourite ship but it can be fun

Particularly when we add Dad Bruce and Mari gets to adopt the Batkids and be a Cool MomTM.

Dickinette:

Often a Villain x Hero romance, usually Black Cat Marinette and Nightwing.

A good trope to be sure, but I think we should spice it up more.

Vampire Dick Truthers (you know who you are) have a point with their Vampire Dick and Mari fics. Why not make Dick the villain in Mari's Rogue Gallery???

Overall a great trope, especially if you really delve into their characters: both are 'sunshine' characters who fight everyday to be the nice, kind heroes everyone thinks they are and expects them to be, even though it's the hardest route to take.

Jasonette:

(I'm biased as it's my #1 Maribat ship, but I'll try not to go on too long >.<)

Villain x Hero? Hero x Hero? Amazing, outstanding. What about Villain x Villain? I myself would love to see more Rogue Jason and Rogue Mari fics.

Any AU is amazing. I admit to having a fondness for Mob Boss Jason, partly because he is one in canon, at least for a while, and because I'm addicted to dark/mafia romance novels. Lieutenant Mari? Yes, please. Rival Mob Boss Mari? Heck yeah! Bat-affiliate Mari? Gimme. Please.

The amount of character exploration you could do if you wrote a romance where they actually stayed together, looking at you, DC is intriguing. Would Jason change for someone he loved? Would he give up crime lording? Would Mari accept him anyways but then they'd have to deal with one half running from the law/vigilantes and the other half being on the vigilantes' side?

Also, soft Jason. Nerding out over books and music and fashion and appreciating the fine things in life and meeting this cute fashion designer with a penchant to listen to Jagged Stone-

So many AU opportunities!! Bakery AU! Mafia AU! Coffee Shop AU! Meetcute at the Museum AU!...

Okay I'll move on now:(

Timari:

LISTEN

This ship IS THE DEFINITION OF THE CEO X SECRETARY TROPE!

I need more, I don't care if it's overused

Also, rival hackers or geniuses.

OR COFFEE SHOP AU

They're both coffee monsters, it's perfect

No I don't care that there are two dozen coffee shop Timari AUs, give me more.

Daminette:

ACADEMIC RIVALS TO LOVERS

Or just rivals to lovers is fine too

YOU REALLY THINK THESE TWO 'MUST BE THE TOP IN CLASS' WOULDN'T BE FIGHTING OVER GRADES AND THEN PAIRED UP ON AN ASSIGNMENT BECAUSE THEY'RE TOO INTENSE TO WORK WITH ANYONE ELSE AND THEN THEY HAVE TO WORK TOGETHER AT ALL TIMES LEST THE OTHER SABOTAGE THEIR PROJECT AND THEN THEY FALL IN LOVE-

anyways

I'm not even into HP but I want a Hogwarts AU with these two-

or any dark academia rivals to lovers au

Roynette:

Enemies or Rivals to Lovers

It's just a simple misunderstanding, as all large rifts start off with.

There's a translation issue or an eavesdropping that is taken out of context

(they're both idiots your honour)

But then something happens and they have to work together or they're made to talk and they realize it's all just a misunderstanding

And then they're like... " while we're clearing the air...so uh, I kinda have a crush on you'

"no way, me too!!"

And Mari meets Lian (or maybe that's what starts this, Jason and Mari are hanging out babysitting Lian and Roy comes to pick Lian up and they start talking and and and-)

And Mari loves Lian immediately of course, who wouldn't?

And so Roy likes her more because she likes Lian so automatically she's not as bad as he thought, and Lian really likes her too

And then they fall in love and Jason and Lian are the master matchmakers behind the scenes

You can pry OTP Jason & Lian setting up Roynette out of my cold dead hands

Konette:

I haven't seen or read a ton of Konette, but they usually meet at the Titans

Friends to Lovers 100%

They're both quiet and new and feeling out the dynamics

so they're often pushed together on purpose or by accident because the others are just so loud and chaotic

And then they become BFFs and are less inclined to join the others' chaos and so spend more time together, and so the cycle continues

And then one day something happens

Kon is Kryptonian and Mari had the Miraculous, they're usually the least-damaged members, but something happens, there's Kryptonite or magic or Something and one or both gets hurt.

The other jumps in front of them to take the blow because they can't let the other get hurt

"Why did you do that?!"

"I couldn't let you get hurt. You need to save our teammates."

Then the hurt one faints or passes out and the other confesses and thinks they can't hear them

They get back to the Tower safely and get treated and wake up and then they see the other

"Did you say you loved me, when I was passed out?"

"You heard that? Uh...yeah, I love you."

"I love you too!"

I haven't read much of any of the other ships to get a good feel on them, so I'm stopping here:)

#Hcs #DCxMLB #jasonette #dickinette #brucinette #daminette #timari #konette #roynette #TTT2023 #team: rare flair #team: java junkies #team: book design #team: spandex flex #team: pretty punk

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somany-fandoms-solittle-time · 8 months

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In A Sentimental Mood: A Ruggie/Yuu Oneshot

Some quick Housekeeping! This was originally meant to be a song-fic but the only time I remembered to/felt inspired to write was nearly the middle of the night (as writers do lol) so I didn’t have enough mental energy to splice the lyrics together into the story. Instead, I listened to the song on repeat while writing, like, HALF of the fic but I thought it was cute enough to fit the vibes. The narrator's voice and descriptions were hard to keep consistent as well as concise, but whatever. I don’t think I properly matched Ruggie’s speech pattern but I think it’s close enough to ‘random, working class teenager’ for now.

Also! It’s an X Yuu but I’m pretty sure I used all GN! Pronouns so please feel free to read it as an X Reader (who’s the Ramshackle Perfect). It felt kinda awkward to not describe the character or use open descriptors (like Y/N, HC, etc.) but feel free to add any notes or styles to try out for an open reader audience. Honestly feel free to comment or message any feedback lol! I don’t have a beta reader atm (I might ask either my gf or my IRL friend who’s also into TWST) but it could be fun to have a random stranger react to my writing so they’re disconnected from personal feelings and whatnot.

I have a fic introducing my oc a little interacting with the Pop Music Club, but it’s making out to be longer than expected so between writing for my own AU/ocs story I’ll be posting cute lil song-fics as well as crackhead interactions lol! Maybe a few headcanons as well. I’m not sure if I would have ever actually started writing fanfics (or writing in general) instead of simply daydreaming about it if it wasn’t for @twst-beam and @krenenbaker , so a quick dedication for them for lowkey lighting a fire under my ass. Not only have you opened the creative floodgates, but actually gave me the motivation to actually TRY and put it into action. Anyway…. ON TO THE STORY BITCHES!!! ENJOY THE THE SWEET HYENA BOY (who weirdly looks exactly like my Boyfriend, lol) AND COME REALISH IN THE CHAOS~

In A Sentimental Mood:

A Ruggie/Yuu one-shot

It had been a long day. Scratch that–it had been the longest year of Ruggie Bucchi and Yuu’s life! However, there was something especially trying these last 24 hours. Maybe it had something to do with how this was the first day off the both had (that lined up) in w e e k s and they STILL BOTH got called in to run some nonsensical errand. Or maybe it’s because when the First Year Squad were supposed to be babysitting Grim the entire first floor of Ramshackle got absolutely trashed.

Something about stupid bets, idiotic magic competition, and a prolonged chase. Afterwards, Rugs and Yuu had to help clean up! The aftermath of the wreckage was too much for the Hodge Podge group of freshmen.

What really topped the day off was the mission impossible scheme the couple failed to pull off. Originally, the two were simply planning to “borrow” on one Leonas (numerous) credit cards while the latter was passed out for an all-expenses-paid date out. It’s not like they were about to rob the second prince blind! Just a few trips to their usual thrifting stops, maybe hassle with a local boutique and then some semi-fancy free grub.

Instead they got caught two shops in when they decided to grab some food before being totally weighed down by paper shopping bags. Since they had a later start, Yuu suggested getting dinner to the new uppity wine-and-dine.

“C’mon Rugs~ When are we gonna have another chance to dine like Kings? And on a Royal Dime at that!” they foolishly (but successfully) tempted the poor Hyena into a little more Mischievous than the two realized.

Too bad their Dinner Date got cut short from one of the waiters recognizing the Sunset Savannah Royal Seal on Leona’s card. It took an hour and a half of being corralled into a backroom, 3 ominous threats of calling the police, snarky back talk and just general arguing before Leona strutted into the Restaurant and vouched for his underclassmen. Seeing the lazy Lion not only WAKE UP, but come off campus was a bit of a surprise for the thief couple.

What wasn’t as surprising was his smug, diva face while declaring that they would need to pay him back for disturbing his nap. After hasty, and admittedly sheepish, promises to the Prince, he collected his missing card and strutted back to campus. Luckily, he was secretly a bit of a softy towards his unofficial Vice and the magicless Perfect that saved his life (and probably his status for not ratting him out to his older brother). It’s safe to say while making the switch a decent stack of Thaumarks was placed in Ruggie’s wallet.

So yeah, in a word, the day had been a bit of a shitshow. A clusterfuck of misfortunate events (and if it weren’t for Leona, Yuu and Ruggie would not only be in some kind of jail but also flat broke).

But finally–finally–this hardworking hyena Beastman and the Ramshackle Perfect were about to have some peace and quiet! A moment for just the two of them. A small, precious moment late at night. After the longest night of their collective lives, the two were able to cuddle up and appreciate what they had. Even if all they had was encompassed by long, tiring days and horrendous luck… and having the bend to the whims of some of the brattiest Divas of NRC.

Regardless, this time isn’t about them. It’s about Ruggie Bucchi and Yuu enjoying what left they had of their day off, Damnnit!

“Ya’ know,” Yuu hummed into where their face was buried for max comfort; Ruggie’s chest. “Today wasn’t a total bust.”

Ruggie snickered sarcastically as his left hand paused its petting motion through his significant other’s hair. He was clearly only humoring his lover's thought process, yet paying attention all the same.

“I’m just saying it wasn’t a total loss,” they began to half-jokingly argue, “I still got to spend the day with you. Besides, you gotta admit it was pretty funny watching that stupid manager’s annoying face drop when Prince Grumpy strutted in all pissy!”

“Shee Shee Shee! Fair enough, Sugar! Good thing he didn’t realize Leona’s always cranky… or that His Majesty~ was mostly just pissed he had to wake up.” Ruggie answered playfully.

“It was kinda sweet of him for letting us, mostly, off the hook though. He even let us keep our goodies along with that sneaky bonus,” Yuu mentioned while lazily motioning towards the small mound of shopping bags and the miscellaneous items inside.

“Pleeeease~ He probably spends more on a single earring than we did with his card and cash combined,” Rugs pouted enviously. To emphasize his pout, he completely encircled Yuu with his arms and clutched them tightly. He was hanging onto them tighter than a swiped snack from the cafeteria on Doughnut day.

“I don’t know,” his partner giggled in response, “Leona’s been such a softy lately… but his whole dark and brooding reputation gets in the way a bit.”

“Dark and brooding?” Ruggie snorted, “Dunno if Leona’s habits of lyin’ around counts as dark and brooding.”

Yuu tried to suppress their elated smirk at feeling the slight tremor of quiet laughter. “True, that’s more of Mal’s stick isn’t it? Angsty and depressed?”

“Nahhh, that’s Idia’s thing! Also, I still can’t wrap my head ‘round you calling Malleus by some nickname.” His laughter died down as he scrunched his nose at the thought of his partner so buddy-buddy with one of Twisted Wonderland’s most powerful mages. And a crown Prince… with servants and castles and-

“You do realize that Malleus is like a GIANT kid right? I mean, yeah he’s some super powerful wizard-”

“Mage!”

“...whatever. He’s an absolute beast when it comes to magic and whatnot, but he’s got this whole ‘homeschooled only child’ vibe going on and honestly? It’s a little pathetic, in a cute stray way.”

Ruggie didn’t really know how to feel about his partner’s revelation. On one hand, he knew they were just friends and had befriended each other longer before Yuu realized Malleus’ status. That didn’t necessarily make it any easier to cover up the inherent inferiority or the slight unsettling fear. Good thing they didn’t feel the usual pressure of this world’s social ladder… but that doesn’t mean they won’t start worrying if he stayed lost in thought for too long.

“.......what was your world like for you to turn out so weird?”

“Hey!”

Ruggie continued to laugh, but it came out a little bit strained. Yuu finally glanced up in order to catch a glimpse of their boyfriend’s adorable pout. His lightly scrunched eyebrows and the way his ears seemed to fold-in on themselves made him look like a grumpy puppy. Absurdly cute, but clearly bothered, and they both had had such a long day t wouldn’t be right not to cheer him back up!

“Oh, c’mere!” the Perfect said through teasing giggles as they flipped Ruggie over to switch positions.

Rugs was currently (and quite contently) snuggled face first into his lover's chest; enjoying the sound of their heartbeat along with the comfortable extra cushioning. His arms reached slightly down to wrap around their waist snuggly as the two pairs of legs naturally crisscrossed at the joints. The moment he fully relaxed was when Yuu started to softly pet his bushy hair and scratch along the base of his ears.

Pure Heaven.

“Were you getting grumpy because I kept mentioning Leona and Malleus?” the Perfect lovingly taunted now that he was trapped and attacked (with euphoric head scratches) in his weak spot. Truly, an idiots mirage of paradise.

“C’mon Sweet Cheeks! Ya Couldn’t’ve least let me keep my pride?” Rugs whined, quickly going back to frowning deeply but unable to hold it for long. There was no chance in all of Twisted Wonderland he could stay “upset” while his precious Dandelion Fluff’s fingers softly caressed his sensitive ears. At least he could cover-up the way he melted, burying himself further into their figure. Luckily, Yuu was already squeezing him closure with a burst of affection,

“Don’t worry, my silly Hyena, the only one I was focused on today was you. The only one I wanted to spend time with was you. And the only person I think of from dawn till dusk, and dream about the whole night through, will always be you, Ruggie Bucchi.” Yuu declared playfully, then slowly breathlessly serious with a sappy amount of affection as they watched Ruggie's tail wave faster and faster.

“Shee shee shee,” Rugs bashfully replied, “where did all that come from outta nowhere?”

Yuu wistfully sighed, “I guess I’m just in a sentimental mood.”

The two shared some playful hushed whispers until Ruggie had to turn his head to hide a yawn. His attempt was futile however, as Yuu caught it–but instead of teasing him over it they simply snuggled him closer and quietly sang an old, sweet crooner love song from their home world. Despite the long day, it felt blissfully short as the two peacefully drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms.

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