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tojipie · 7 months

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welcome home <3

he’s unboxed ! who cheered. by far one of my most requested fics of all time. started this series 6 months ago and it remains one of my favs :,) this is by no means the end though ! i haven’t been writing any of the additions to this series in “order” and i am still 100% open to writing about his life inside/after prison lol. thank u to all the lovely ppl that have been showing love to these since april mwah mwah mwah mwah

as always, prison bf toji series linked here <3

content: (incarceration, fem reader, fluff, hurt/comfort, p in v smut, pining, road head, swallowing, creampie, dirty talk, multiple rounds)

“just step through here and—yep,” the guard waves his security want across your outstretched arms, clearing you to take your belongings from the conveyor belt.

you’d done this dance a hundred times over the past seven years, driving up to the district penitentiary twice a week to see your boyfriend—now fiancé.

toji told you he didn’t have it in him to wait, popping the question during a conjugal visit a month ago.

the man had known he’d wanted to marry you even before he got locked up. the feeling was mutual, but unspoken, always hanging in the air between the two of you.

you on the other hand had known you wanted to marry toji the moment he whispered his first “i love you,” said to you through the crackly speaker of a burner phone on a night when neither of you knew if he’d be coming home or not.

you make a beeline for the release wing, breaking into a subtle jog without drawing too much attention to yourself. the bouquet of green flowers you’d bought at the grocery store jostles in your purse, leaving a breadcrumb trail of stray petals.

there, around a bend and down the corridor stands the man of your dreams, flanked by officers and personnel at the front desk.

metal cuffs clack together as the man reaches to accept a clipboard from the release agent, skillfully uncapping the pen with his teeth to fill out the means for his freedom.

he looks up a split second before you speak, dropping the clipboard with an audible clatter. toji tears down the corridor with a look that speaks of relief beyond words.

“toji!” you yell, sprinting to the inmate with outstretched arms. you nearly trip over your own feet with how quick you barrel towards him.

warm bodies clash together at last, squeezing, cradling, and caressing every inch of each other at last. his law enforcement entourage watches from afar, some smiling, others annoyed.

you’re lifted clean off the ground as strong, tattooed arms slip over your head and around your body. thick fingers work their way into your hair, cradling your head to his shoulder.

actions speak louder than words, you know that much from how quickly he buckles, dropping to his knees with your body still wrapped around his.

toji smells different every time you come to visit. there were days when the tang of blood stuck to his skin no matter how hard he scrubbed, a telling sign of his short temper.

other days he’d smell like the earth, soil from the rec field permeating his already brown garments after his morning run.

once in a while, you’d catch hints of industrial paint and car exhaust, a smell built up from hours of making license plates for pocket change from the state. “pennies,” he’d tell you, “that’s all we fucking get in here.”

today, toji smells like himself. like the man you fell in love with 7 years ago in the passenger seat of a BMW, gazing into green eyes while gentle hands brushed the hair from your face.

you almost think he’s laughing until warm tears trickle through the porous fabric of your shirt.

strong shoulders quiver as quiet sobs rack his body, you rub his back in small circles, unable to pull away with how tight he’s holding you against his chest.

“i love you,” the inmate whimpers, wiping hot tears with his sleeve. he pulls back to press your lips together, mumbling nonsense in between kisses.

“pretty girl—m’ sorry— missed you,” his hands shake as they curl into the fabric at your waist.

you’d seen him cry exactly twice in his life. the first being the night he’d opened up to you in full for the first time, quietly relaying stories of neglect and abuse from his childhood while you kissed tears from his cheeks.

the second was well, the day he went away.

to see him break down like this so openly was devastating. he hated being emotional, told you it was humiliating. you’re sure he felt more than vulnerable, the leader of the city’s biggest drug ring, crumpled on the floor of a prison hallway

“it’s okay baby,” you tell him, still rubbing circles into his skin.

to touch him like this, at last, was unlike anything the two of you had been allowed to experience for the past 7 years. this wasn’t your two legally allowed hugs at the beginning and end of your visits, or a quick fuck in a storage closet.

this was love. to hold and be held in front of law enforcement personnel without threat of being reprimanded. this was the first time you had been allowed to feel him under the tips of your fingers with an audience, publicly declaring your claim on each other without fear.

you never blamed toji for what had happened, as angry as you were that first year. he blamed himself enough for the both of you really.

you’d come to learn over the years that it had already been too late for him to get out of his line of work way before you’d found each other, a cycle he couldn’t break.

prison was always a possibility, inevitable even. that’s just how it was.

you slowly gather your purse off the ground, cellophane-wrapped flowers coming into view.

“for me?” he laughs, slightly embarrassed. dark green carnations, just like his eyes.

“who else?” you tease, watching the distress melt from his face.

you share a look briefly, yours saying you’re safe with me. his saying i know.

the soft clicks of black work boots pull you from your thoughts, a female officer in tow.

“you guys ready to get started?” she asks softly, shooting you a sympathetic look.

toji stands with a chuckle, not letting you respond. silver cuffs dig into the meat of your thighs as you’re carried back to the group.

˚ ✧ ───────────

half an hour of paperwork for his freedom. that’s what you give the prison in exchange for his belongings and dignity.

the waiting room is quiet, sterile air filtering through dated vents. calloused fingers rub over your ankle, legs propped up in his lap.

“feels like a hospital in here,” he mumbles, trying to cut through the silence.

the cuffs are gone, thank god. though you’re more than unhappy with the marks they left on his wrists. toji doesn’t seem to mind, used to almost a decade of this treatment.

the release desk worker slides you two a yellow bag under the glass divider once you finish your task, pointing you in the direction of the bathrooms in case toji wanted to change.

the inmate—no, ex-inmate you remind yourself— hands you the bag with a disinterested look.

he doesn’t want to remember, you realize. too scared to wear the suit he had on the day the world took you from him. you quickly trash the old clothes and hold out your shoulder bag to him, fresh clothes neatly folded inside.

“always prepared huh?” toji smiles, grateful at the gesture. “haven’t changed a bit.”

you wait a couple of minutes outside the single-stall bathroom, physically picking your jaw up off the floor when he emerges.

to say that his old shirt fit would be... egregiously wrong. blasphemous even.

toji’s shirt doesn’t just “not fit”, it’s bursting at the seams as it struggles to accommodate his hulking form, stretching over plains of corded muscle like a rubber band pulled too tight.

seeing him so often had likely gotten your brain used to the change, preventing you from realizing how fucking big your fiancé had gotten. truly.

the black garment is so tight against his body that it’s practically a second skin. you make note of the way it molds into the dips and curves of his abs, mentally reminding yourself to get him to wear it for you later.

you suppose the change makes sense. if toji wasn’t with you on a day visit he was always in his cell, sticking to a strict workout regimen to take his mind off things. still, you rack your brain trying to pinpoint how and when such a massive transformation slipped your mind.

a tattooed hand snaps you out of your trance, cradling your cheek.

“you focused?” your fiancé teases, rubbing circles into your jaw with his thumb.

“i think that thing’s gonna explode if you move,” you swat his hand away.

“would you rather i take it off to be safe?” he asks, jutting a thumb behind him at the waiting room desk.

the workers make no attempt to hide their oggling, faces pressed against the glass barrier separating your party from theirs.

“no— god keep it on,” you mutter, shooting them a nasty look.

“you and your girlfriend ready to go fushiguro?” an officer says, holding the door open for the both of you. toji squats down momentarily to get a grip on your thighs, folding you over his shoulder to carry you fireman style.

“wife,” he corrects, shouldering past the guard and trudging down the corridor with calculated steps.

the coos that ring out from the help desk are humiliating.

waxed tile fades into worn concrete as the two of you pass the threshold into the prison parking lot, your soon-to-be-husband muttering a curt “go fuck yourselves” to the officers who’d wished him good luck on his way out the door.

you’re proud of him for holding his tongue, in a way. knowing toji and his temper there were a hundred more creative and undoubtedly gruesome things he could have said to the personnel who’d kept him locked up for the better half of a decade.

the world flips right side up again as you’re gently placed on your feet in front of the car.

toji raises his head to the sky, basking in the warmth of the afternoon sun.

“s’ nice,” he mumbles, reaching to intertwine your hands. “felt the sun during rev time but.. not like this.”

you hum, rubbing your thumb over tattooed knuckles.

“get ready to experience a lot more sun then,” you giggle. “wanna have a look at the car?” the question is more of a rhetorical one at this point considering he’s already running his hand over the hood with a whistle.

“haven’t seen this baby in a while,” he smiles, internally gushing at your choice to welcome him to the world in the car he used to drive you home the night you met. your fiancé doesn’t have to say thank you, you know how grateful he is from his smile alone.

he falters for a bit, looking like a newborn fawn with how careful his steps are as he circles the vehicle. you figure wearing proper shoes instead of rubber slides must feel at least a little abnormal after 7 long years.

“alright,” toji states, rolling his shoulders in his too-tight top. “fuck are we waiting for, i wanna go home.”

˚ ✧ ───────────

you pay no mind to toji the first time he turns to look at you, opening his mouth to say something before slumping back into his seat with a frustrated sigh.

the fourth time it happens, you speak up.

“what are you doing?” you laugh, eyeing him from the driver's seat

“getting rubbed to death by my fucking zipper,” he mutters, repositioning his lower half to take the pressure off his cock. his frustration isn’t aimed at you in the slightest, all blame placed on his bottoms.

oh.. oh.

the whirlwind of emotions toji had gone through in the past 3 hours alone had taken a toll on his mind and body. but tasting the first morsels of freedom with you, alone in a car that smelled like you? you’d be worried if he wasn’t hard.

you had no problem helping his little problem go away, the question was how soon.

the idea that piques on you is absolutely shameful, you’re not even sure where it came from but you don’t have it in you to care.

you know this road, you’ve used it a thousand times to make the trip up to the penitentiary. judging by how long you’d been driving you’d say there was about 10 minutes left before ruler-straight tar merged into the twists and turns of the suburbs.

“when did your license expire?” you ask, cautiously peering in the rearview mirror. good, no cars.

“3 years ago,” he laughs, “why?”

fuck it, you think.

“you still remember how to steer?”

“course i d— oh.”

it finally dawns on him. you smile, shooting him a look that says “want to?”

you’re sure you have your answer judging by how quick he shucks his jeans and boxers down, freeing his cock from its confines.

“oh fuck,” he groans, struggling to keep his eyes open as your mouth presses against his base.

your fiancé steers while your head bobs just beneath the dash, one hand on the wheel and the other placed firmly at the crown of your head, guiding you up and down the shaft.

your throat flexes around the intrusion, fighting the hulking feeling of his length mercilessly fucking into your mouth.

“fuck, perfect girl— my girl,” he shudders, hips moving to buck into your slick throat.

“gonna cum, gonna— shit,”

fingers kissed in dark ink massage your throat softly, urging you to swallow the hot load coating every inch of your mouth. you flutter around his length, pulling back to clean him off with your tongue.

“fucks gotten into you, pretty girl?” he whispers, so out of breath you barely hear him.

˚ ✧ ───────────

you barely make it up the steps of the house before you’re shoved against the door, tattooed hands groping up and down your body with fervor.

“keys,” he says against your lips, “keys—fuck, now,” his voice is hoarser this time, desperation clear.

you whip around to jam the item into the lock, not unaware of the rock-hard dick grinding into your jean-clad ass from behind.

you’re being carried to the couch before you even step off the doormat, a stray throw blanket cushioning your fall as you’re pressed into squeaky leather.

“won’t be gentle,” toji groans, ripping your jeans and panties down in one fluid motion.” can’t right now.”

“don’t be.” you say, rucking his shirt off his body surprisingly quick. “wouldn’t want you to.”

you needed him, needed toji to have his way with you. to christen your home round after round until you couldn’t feel where his body and yours ended.

when it came down to it, you suppose

he smiles at the crude admission, rubbing the head of his cock up and down your drenched folds.

“filthy,” he mutters, said almost lovingly. toji grips his base and sinks to the hilt with a sharp groan, shuddering at the heat of your walls.

the stretch is delicious, filling you from every angle and pressing right against that special spot. you’re surprised at how easily he slams in, though you’re embarrassed to admit it was entirely because of how soaked you were.

toji immediately pulls back with a flick of his hips, pistoning into you like his life depends on it.

he hasn’t changed, you think. still so incredibly in tune with your body, skills that would put a pornstar to shame.

this was better than some quick closeted fuck under the cover of night after slipping a guard a rubber band of cash. this was primal, filthy. two bodies writhing against each other, the only goal being complete and utter pleasure.

toji makes no effort to shush you like he would if you were sneaking around, basking in your sighs and whines like water from a stream.

“missed this,” he says, licking a long, wet stripe from your sternum to your pulse. “missed you, missed having you every day.”

“you’ll have me forever,” you moan, sucking a purple bruise into the tattooed skin of his throat.

thick fingers thread into your hair to hold you to his neck, silently commanding you to bite down.

and so you do. you bite down hard on the junction of his neck and shoulder, licking over pink teeth marks as his thrusts reach their maximum speed.

the pleasure you feel is blinding. stars explode behind your vision while the curve of his cock hits that heavenly spot in you just right. over, and over, and over.

your climax sneaks up on you before you can think, ripping a wail from the depths of your chest. toji’s thrusts falter to a halt as you lock down on him, pleasantly caught off guard by the vice grip you have around him.

“oh my g— holy shit,” he groans, mouth hanging open. dark brows furrow it to a look of pure pleasure, emerald eyes squeezing tight.

“keep going,” you mumble, scratching rivets down the skin of his back. “just keep fucking me please don’t stop please pl—”

“yeah? keep going?” he teases, groping at the swell of your breast. “greedy huh?”

you did want more, that was the thing. you just came the hardest you ever had in years but you’d be damned if he didn’t keep giving it to you.

brutal thrusts shake the frame of the couch. your bodies meld like they were made for each other, sharing pleasure in the comfort that came with the knowledge that the both of you intended to fuck until you physically couldn’t anymore.

“gonna come,” your fiancé pants, mouthing at the curve of one of your breasts. blunt teeth brush over the bud of your nipple, sending shockwaves down your spine

“inside, fuck—please,” you’re practically shaking.

“inside?” he repeats, the word rolling off his tongue like gold. “you want my seed? huh?”

you nod, clutching to his naked back as he ruts into you, deeper than ever. strong hands grip the back of your thighs practically folding you in half, opening you up in ways you thought to be impossible.

hot release fills you up for the second time that day, shrouding your lower half in a blanket of warmth.

you sigh, low and satiated at the feeling inside of you, pulling toji to your chest when he collapses on top of you.

“we should probably..” toji trails off, completely out of breath. “should probably head upstairs.” he heaves, chest swelling with deep gulps of air.

“or we could go another round?” you mumble, throwing the question out there.

“shit, yeah.. probably should right?” he chuckles

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solarmorrigan · 6 months

Note

For the angst prompt thing: Steddie and "Don't fucking touch me."

Hello! Thank you very much for sending a prompt, I'm sorry it took me so long to post, but I do think this one is my favorite out of all the fills I've done for this prompt list <3

[No warnings; Unnamed Freak (who apparently got a name in the most recent novel, but I didn't know that at the time) is named Oliver]

Angsty-ish Prompt List

“I’m gonna step outside for a minute,” Steve leans in to murmur in Eddie’s ear, even though the music isn’t that loud.

“Yeah, sounds good.” Eddie nods, and only just keeps himself from turning to catch Steve’s mouth in a kiss when he feels the brush of his lips against his ear; it’s not his fault he’s developed some kind of Pavlovian association between having Steve’s mouth anywhere near his skin and receiving kisses – but they do have company.

Said company is just Gareth, Jeff, and Oliver, but still. Eddie has some decorum.

Steve stands from the couch and the arm he’d had slung around Eddie’s shoulders slides away slowly, his hand brushing warm and heavy over the back of Eddie’s neck, thumb stroking once, familiarly, along the side of his throat before disappearing entirely as Steve moves towards the front door. He doesn’t do so great with groups of people in small spaces anymore; the noise gets to him, and the heat generated by so many bodies in close proximity tends to give him a headache, so he takes breaks now and then, just to give his brain a few minutes to unbend.

The door swings open on silent hinges (Steve had attacked it with a can of WD-40 and a look of determination earlier today, insisting he couldn’t stand the squeaking anymore; he’s always doing things like that around the house – little repairs, organizing, picking things up, even though Eddie insists he doesn’t have to. He says he wants to, the endearing little weirdo) and Steve steps out into the cool evening, leaving Eddie and the boys behind in the warm light of the trailer’s main room.

“So,” Jeff says, looking up from his spot on the floor and gesturing vaguely at Eddie with his beer can, “how’s that going for you guys?”

Eddie blinks at him. “How’s what going?”

“The whole thing between you two,” Jeff clarifies, and Eddie raises a skeptical brow at him.

“You wanna talk about me and Steve having sex?” Eddie asks.

Jeff’s nose scrunches in distaste. “What? No.”

“Not ever,” Gareth jumps in.

“I mean…” Oliver says with a shrug, flinching when Gareth pelts him with a balled-up napkin.

“No,” Gareth reiterates.

“I refuse to apologize for simple curiosity,” Oliver sniffs, and Eddie, seated next to him on the couch, gives him a shove.

He’s glad his friends are accepting – supportive, even (he’d like to say he wouldn’t hang out with them if they weren’t, but let’s be real: nerds could be hard to come by in their neck of the woods, and as long as they were the quiet type of homophobic, Eddie would probably still play D&D with them. But he’s glad they’re not), but he does have some boundaries.

Like, one or two, maybe.

“I just meant the whole… dating thing,” Jeff says, taking a sip from his beer. “Because I’ll be honest, I really didn’t see it at first, but it actually seems to be working out.”

“Dating?” Eddie parrots blankly.

“Yeah. You guys are in, like, some kind of never-ending honeymoon phase or some shit,” Gareth says. “Hasn’t it been over two months?”

“Uhhh, no, I think you gentlemen are confused,” Eddie drawls. “Steve and I are not dating.”

This declaration is met with a moment of silence.

“Seriously?” Oliver finally says.

“Yep,” Eddie replies easily. “No relationship shit here. Strictly a friends-with-benefits-type deal.”

“Seriously,” Olver says again, flatly this time.

“Yes, Oliver, seriously,” Eddie huffs, reaching over to give him another shove, only to have his hand pushed away.

“Eddie, he was practically sitting in your lap just now,” Jeff says. “You two are all over each other.”

“Constantly,” Gareth adds.

Eddie shrugs. “It’s not like this is a big couch; we gotta squish. Anyway, Steve’s just a touchy kind of guy.”

“He doesn’t sit like that with any of us,” Gareth points out.

“Yeah, well, you guys aren’t the ones receiving benefits,” Eddie says. “You want him to sit on your lap? You could ask.”

Gareth lets his head hang back with a noise of frustration. “That’s not the point, and you know it.”

“Don’t you two go on dates?” Jeff asks. “I’ve seen you at the movies. You talk about going out to eat, doing other shit…”

“Yeah, see, that’s the friends part of friends with benefits,” Eddie snarks. “Friends hang out sometimes, I’ve been told. We are all, in fact, hanging out right now, but that doesn’t mean I’m dating any of you.”

“You don’t see the way he looks at you?” Oliver asks, and Eddie can’t help but scoff.

He appreciates the fact that Oliver is passionate about pretty much anything he does, but it also means he’s given to romanticizing. He doesn’t usually manage to drag Jeff or Gareth in with him, though.

“Pretty sure he looks at me like a friend, because that’s what we are.” Eddie rolls his eyes before offering a smarmy little grin. “I mean, I’m sure he looks at me as an exceptionally attractive friend, but that’s it.”

“Genuinely can’t tell if you’re fucking with us, man,” Jeff says, rolling his eyes.

“Genuinely, I am not,” Eddie promises, taking the last viable swallow from his beer before getting up and heading for the kitchen, wiggling his empty can at the others with a raised eyebrow in question. Gareth raises his own near-empty can with a shrug and Eddie nods. “Look,” he says as he ducks towards the fridge, “Steve isn’t the kinda guy you have a relationship with, anyway, you know?”

Eddie doesn’t mean this in a negative way, just as a matter of fact. Steve just doesn’t seem to be a relationship kind of guy. Nancy had been something of an outlier, in how long she and Steve had lasted, and it had become clear after the dust from the Upside Down had settled that he really doesn’t have any interest in pursuing her further. Just the other day, he’d mentioned to Eddie how difficult relationships can be, and about how glad he is they have their thing together instead.

“Being with you is just… easy,” Steve had said; he hadn’t been looking at Eddie at the time, his face instead pillowed on Eddie’s chest, hair sticking to his naked skin where the sweat was still cooling from their last round, but Eddie could see the edge of a smile on his lips.

And Eddie doesn’t have much experience with relationships himself, but he knows that being friends with Steve is easy and that the sex feels equally easy and that the way he’d agreed with Steve and carded his fingers through his hair had sent Steve right to sleep with that same smile still in place.

Easy.

Now, Eddie shoves his head into the fridge and reaches for the beers that have somehow gotten pushed to the back. “It’s nothing major, okay?” he calls back towards the living room.

“Eddie…” Gareth calls back, an edge to his voice.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m on it.” Eddie waves vaguely, making sure to grab a second beer. “Anyway, Steve’s a good friend, and he’s really hot, and we’re just having fun.”

The bang of the front door against the frame startles Eddie so badly he nearly smacks his head on the underside of the freezer as he stands, a beer clutched in each hand like he might be able to use them as projectiles.

There is no threat, though – just Steve, who had apparently failed to catch the screen door before it had shut too quickly behind him. He doesn’t seem to have noticed; he’s just standing there, staring at Eddie, color rising high in his cheeks, eyes wide and shocked, like he’s just been slapped.

Concern wells up from Eddie’s gut, and he opens to his mouth to ask what’s wrong when Steve finally speaks.

“Yeah,” he croaks, “I’m not having fun.”

Eddie’s brows furrow in confusion, the beginnings of cold dread trickling into his veins well ahead of any conscious thought.

“I think I– I think I should go,” Steve says.

He grabs his keys from the side table by the door, where they’ve lived next to Eddie’s and Wayne’s for the last few months whenever he’s been at the house, and then he’s gone again, the screen door banging shut once more behind him.

And Eddie has no idea what just happened, but he knows it wasn’t good. He drops the beers on the counter and bolts out the door after Steve.

Steve is nearly to his car by the time Eddie scrambles down the front steps, and he’s paying absolutely no attention when Eddie calls after him.

“Steve,” Eddie tries again, stumbling to a stop right behind him as he jams his keys into the driver’s side lock. “Steve, for fuck’s sake, what–” he reaches out, wrapping one hand around Steve’s bicep, and Steve jerks out of his grip.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” Steve snaps.

Eddie pulls his hand back, but doesn’t step away, entirely baffled by the sudden turn the evening has taken. “What the hell happened back there?”

Steve goes still, grip going lax on his keys. “I heard what you said, Eddie.”

“About – about what? Are you mad I was talking to them about us sleeping together? Because, Steve, they already knew,” Eddie insists, a little incredulous. “You said you were fine with them knowing! You were practically feeling me up in front of them!”

“I don’t give a shit if they know we’re having sex!” Steve hisses, finally whirling around to look at Eddie. “I meant the rest. About how I’m not the kind of guy you have a relationship with.”

Eddie’s stomach sinks. He hadn’t realized that was such a sensitive subject. “I – shit, I wasn’t trying to hurt your feelings, I just didn’t think you wanted–”

“About how we’re just having fun,” Steve cuts in, and if he’d sounded raw before, his voice is practically ground down to nothing now.

That brings Eddie up short. “…aren’t we?” he asks after a moment.

Steve says nothing.

“I mean, shit, Steve, it’s not like we’re in a relationship,” Eddie says, offering a little laugh, because even Steve would have to admit that the idea is a little silly.

Except.

Except Steve just glances away, staring at the ground beside Eddie’s feet, and – oh, shit.

“Oh, shit.”

Steve is still unnervingly silent, one arm curled around his middle while the other hand comes up to pinch briefly at the bridge of his nose. He still won’t look at Eddie.

“You… you thought we were,” Eddie says dumbly, and Steve shrugs.

“Can you blame me? We spend all our time together, Eddie. I’m here more than I’m at my own house, I think I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve slept in my own bed in the last month. We go out and do things together, I try to keep things nice around the house because I want Wayne to like me, we have, like, a lot of sex, and– we… I mean, we kiss and touch and just – do shit like that even when it doesn’t lead anywhere.” Steve shrugs helplessly, finally looking up. “I mean, Christ, Eddie, what did you think we were doing?”

“I thought we were friends!” Eddie insists. Steve throws him an incredulous look and Eddie amends, “With benefits!”

“Right.” Steve’s expression flattens back out, going cold and hard and unlike anything Eddie’s become used to from him. “Because I’m not the kind of guy you’d want to have a relationship with.”

“I said that because I thought you didn’t want to be in a relationship!” Eddie snaps. “It’s not like you stay with anyone for very long, so I just assumed you didn’t want to be with anyone.”

Some of the ice retreats from Steve’s face, leaving a watering kind of hurt in its stead. “Do you listen to me at all when I talk?”

“What? Of course I do!” Eddie might have gotten turned around in certain respects, but he will not have his merits as a friend called into question; of course he listens to Steve.

“Are you sure? Because I talk about you an awful lot. I talk about doing things with you, about doing things in the future with you,” Steve says pointedly, “about how I want to stay with you.”

And Eddie had wanted Steve to stay with him, too. He’s just been thinking – well, he’d thought it was because they get along so well, that Steve had wanted to stick around. That it had only made sense.

“We never talked about… being anything else,” Eddie says, the protest a little weak even to his own ears. “I’m pretty sure I’d remember that.”

Steve pulls a sharp breath in, pinching at the bridge of his nose again; he leaves his hand there this time, eyes scrunched shut. “Just a few days ago, I told you how much I liked being with you. How good and how easy it felt compared to anyone else I’ve ever been with,” he says, barely more than a rough whisper. “And you said…”

I like being with you, too.

Eddie had said that.

He’d meant that he likes being around Steve, likes being his friend, definitely likes having sex with him, but he’d said it while combing his fingers through Steve’s hair, while cuddled up with him in bed, and – okay, yes, he can see the mixed signals there. He can see where Steve might have gotten the idea that they didn’t have an arrangement, that they were just together.

“I– I didn’t mean–”

“Obviously,” Steve snaps, dropping his hand from his face and turning back towards his car.

Eddie tsks, frustrated, and reaches out to grab Steve’s wrist – not pulling, just trying to keep his attention.

“Don’t,” Steve warns him, pulling back from his grasp for a second time.

“I didn’t mean to lead you on,” Eddie tries desperately. “I really… I really didn’t.”

“Yeah. I can see that. But Eddie…” Steve is quiet for a moment, posture so tense and still that Eddie suspects he’s not even breathing. “I’m probably the best-qualified asshole around to tell you that you really have to fucking think about how what you’re doing affects the people around you.”

Somehow, that stings more than any screamed insult Steve could have thrown at him.

“Steve…”

“I’ll come get my shit out of your place tomorrow,” Steve says, low and sharp, before getting into his car and slamming the door behind him.

After that, Eddie has no choice but to step back or get run over, and he watches until Steve’s taillights are no longer visible.

He can hear the hissing of some whispered conversation just beyond the door as he trudges back up the front steps, but his friends fall conspicuously quiet the moment he steps inside.

“…hey,” Gareth finally ventures after several seconds of awkward, sticky silence.

“Hey,” Eddie says flatly.

“Do you… want us to stay?” Jeff asks.

Slowly, Eddie shakes his head. “I think I should… I need to– think about shit.”

The boys all nod, throwing him variously sympathetic glances and clapping him on the shoulder on their way out. Oliver pauses, as if he’s going to say something, but Gareth gives him a shove and gets him out the door before he has the chance. Probably for the best.

Eddie feels numb as he trudges back towards his room, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened.

He flops down on his bed, face landing in a pillow that smells entirely too much like Steve’s shampoo. Probably because it’s on the side of the bed that Steve always takes. Next to the nightstand with the small stack of sports magazines that definitely aren’t Eddie’s. And the spare pair of glasses that also isn’t Eddie’s.

With a low tug in his gut, Eddie realizes how much of Steve’s stuff has crept into his room, into the trailer, into his life – how much Steve has become a part of his life, how much of Eddie’s day has been built around him, how much he’s come to lean on his presence, has come to want him there.

And Steve is going to take it all back sometime soon. Take all of his things away before he removes himself from Eddie’s life, too, because Eddie hadn’t been thinking and he hadn’t been careful and he hadn’t realized–

Eddie’s pretty sure he just broke up with Steve.

He’s also pretty sure he hadn’t wanted to.

His main consolation, as he curls up on his side, nose still buried in Steve’s pillow, is that as soon as Robin hears what happened (and she will hear, he has no doubt), she’ll probably come murder him.

At least he won’t have to wallow for long.

Part 2

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #smallspaceplant #eddiesteve #listen Steve is u-haul lesbian flavored and Eddie is I know we're married but do you like me? lesbian flavored - you feel?#anyway I shouldn't be allowed to use tags on less than six hours of sleep!#answers from solar #solar wrote #hurt no comfort #edit: now with a continuation that will eventually include comfort

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pastelhooman · 1 year

Text

[WVW Exchange Event 2023!]

"The kisses on your lash, your ears, on the nose that keeps scrunching. The kisses on your hand, on your cheeks, and the exchanging soft words waiting for the break of day."

----- ID under break -----

A total of 6 pages of comics, starting with a close up shots of vash kissing sleeping wolfwood's nose, eyes, lashes, and he furrows them a bit. an overhead shot of the two of them in a motel room, on the bed with vash leaning over wolfwood from the left, laying soft kisses on him. their legs tangled. their normal outfits are thrown haphazardly on the floor, instead donning comfortable clothes. on the outside, the very first ray of lights are yet to shine.

"what a face you're making pfft" - vash says as he grabs both of wolfwood's cheeks, squeezing them a bit. wolfwood mumbles, "There's something that keeps landing on my face, it tickles." he grabs the hand that is on his right cheek. "Well you're letting it happens anyways right?" Vash muses, bringing the hand up to kiss on its knuckles. "Good morning Wolfwood. It's almost dawn"

"… Isn't it way too soon?" - wolfwood asks, but keeps to himself the prayers he's sending to god because the the boy on top of him was such a sight to behold. Vash flops down onto him, leaving the hand hanging and lace his own hand into Wolfwood's hair, peppering kisses to the side of his face. "Yep" - he answers - "But you woke up on your own tho" - facetiously. He giggles, saying that it was a joke after a beat of silence. A sigh, "don't make me upside you first thing in the morning." Wolfwood closes his eyes, hand combing through golden strands. "Heh, how merciful~" "We have a meet up with Milly and Meryl today, remember?" Vash reminds him, which does raise some vague memory. wolfwood hums, the other hand reaching around vash's torso, hugging him. " So, the sooner we arrive, the less likely she'll chew through my head." - Vash adds. "riiiight. And you were SO urgent in waking me up." in wolfwood's hold, both of them slowly turn to the right, towards the edge of the bed.

Well, you were just soooo cute, I couldn't help it! didn't thinkk you'll actually wakE UAA-!"

the bed creaks under the sudden shift in weight as wolfwood tosses vash over and under him, arms firmly hugging him, one at his back and one at his head, hungrily dives down to kiss. "!! Wolf-! Wait-!" Vash yelps, leg instinctively curls around the other's man hip to hang on, trying his damnest to grip on his shirt as HE is now half airborne, barely has any contact with the bed on his upper body. However, wolfwood seems to have another idea as he keeps deepening the kiss, pointedly holding Vash close, hands spread guarding the back of his head as both of them are sliding off the soft fabric.

"THUD!" a resounding fall, possibly enough to wake the room downstairs, followed shortly by laboured breaths amist wet smacks of lips. Heaves and huffs of air exchanging between the two bodies when the need to breath made itself necessary. They press close, cradling each other, and are lost to their own world. After a while they had to part. Metal arm shifts through black locks, caressing down to his nape and they hold eye contacts there, with lidded eyes, strands of saliva thins then breaks.

Wolfwood pushes up on his arms, looking smugly down at his now disheveled partner: "Now this is how it's done, Needlenoggin." he remarks. Vash tries to wrangle his thoughts back in order, but strings of Wolfwood's name and a wonderous question keeps filling his mind, of whether he should risk it all and have fun for a bit more. Regardless, snapping out of his trance, Vash sourly asks, with a wry smile and an aching head: "But did you really need to roll off the bed?" "Wrong side, whoops" - Wolfwood anwers unseriously, laughing as he finds the situation quite amusing.

----- End of ID -----

#sorry if the ID is weird it happens everytime i tried to ID my comics it turned into psuedo-fics-#the cap is the prompt btw #the exchange is basically secret santa except it was in may lol #it was incredibly fun to work on this!!#and originally i drafted this to be like 4 pages and it got longer and l o n g e r and i was like oh no #all is good i made the deadline dont worry #yeah only some ten minutes left before it was overdue lol #oh and the event was last month i just procrastinated and didnt post it on anywhere except fb mb #half the reason was because i do NOT know how to ID and half way through it was feeling like writing a fic and that took. time #didn't help that i started writing when i was very sleepy and basically forgot about it for weeks #wElL aNyWAys #hope you enjoy this <3 #i really really love the prompts that i was given there were 3 in total but i only did one #they were all superb #vashwood #woodvash #wvw #vwv #wv #vw #trimax #trigun #trigun maximum #trigun manga #vash the stampede #vash trimax #wolfwood #nicholas d wolfwood #wolfwood trimax #wvw exchange event 2023

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headkiss · 1 year

Text

single thread (pt. 2)

part 1, part 2, part 3

pairing: spider-man!steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: after the kiss, that string between you and steve seems to get thinner, shorter. you find out some things about him, too.

word count: 7.6k

warnings: spiderman!steve au, a little angst, fluff, injuries (most likely some inaccurate descriptions of them), idiots!!!!

a/n: part two is hereeee!!! thank u guys for all the love on the first one, i hope u guys continue to enjoy this one :,)

/ᐠ(๏‸๏)ᐟ\

If it’s even possible, Steve thinks about you more after the kiss.

Kisses don’t usually feel like that. At least, he doesn’t think they do because he can’t remember what any other kiss felt like. You were enough to erase any that happened before you came along.

It was the best kiss he’s ever had and he never should’ve done it. Being friends with you was one thing, but letting his feelings get involved… there’s no turning back from that.

He’s sure that if he said any of this to Robin she'd call him a dingus and tell him to ask you out, but he can’t do it. He can’t.

You wouldn’t know what you’d be getting yourself into. That is, if you’d even want him at all. The injuries he comes home with—more so than what you’ve patched up yourself—the things he’s had to do, all of it.

You’re too soft, too good, for him to weigh you down with it.

He likes you so much, he knows he does. He likes you so much that he doesn’t want to do anything that could end up with you getting hurt or being unhappy. If that means only being your friend, he’ll do it.

He meant it when he said he never hated you, that much is obvious. And he meant it when he kissed you, the way he felt. He felt brave then, he makes himself brave everytime he puts on his suit, but he’s afraid of this. Of being with you fully, letting you know the truth.

It's been days, maybe a week, since he kissed you and neither of you have brought it up. Steve’s been trying to figure out what to say, how to tell you he’s not sorry for kissing you but he can’t do it again.

Today, he’s decided he’s gonna try. He taps his knuckles against your door, all too familiar of an action by now.

“Just a second!” You call. Even just hearing your voice, Steve knows it’ll be hard to have this conversation and sound like he means it.

You open the door, hair pulled away from your face, “hi, Steve.”

“Hey.”

You’re opening the door wider and stepping aside to let him in before he even asks.

Steve’s eyes are as soft as ever, his smile shy, almost nervous. Looking at him, you still can't believe he kissed you, that he opened up with just a few words.

Never hated you.

“Everything okay?” You ask him. It’s early in the afternoon, and if Steve’s knocking on your door, it’s usually late. You wonder why it’s different this time.

“Yeah. Yep. I just wanted to talk to you.”

“Okay,” nerves bubble in your stomach.

“I kissed you,” the words come out in a rush, like he had to force them out, to bring it up.

“You did.”

“I’m sorry that I haven’t said anything about it. I just, um, needed to think about what to say.”

He sounds more serious than he has with you in a while. Since you started bringing him meals and he started to let you in. You twist your hands in front of you.

“I never said anything, either.”

He shakes his head. “I’m really glad to know you, okay? I just think, maybe, being friends works for us, right? And I don’t want to mess that up, so…”

“So we don’t kiss again.” You hope your voice doesn’t show your disappointment.

You like Steve an embarrassing amount, and when he kissed you, your heart expanded in your chest. A balloon filling up with air until, inevitably, it’d pop. Now, he’s letting you down easy and he’s being so gentle about it that it makes you wanna cry even more.

Damn him for being such a good guy.

“Is that okay?”

“Steve, we’re friends. Don’t worry about it. We’re good, promise.”

You mean it. It’s okay, he can’t help the way he feels and even if it’s not what you’d been hoping for, it’s not his fault you got your hopes up. You’d rather be his friend than be nothing at all.

You can squish your crush down, tuck it away and pretend like it doesn’t exist. You can do it because you were doing it before. It’s fine. It has to be.

Steve feels relief wash over him, though it mingles with some sort of worry that even in doing what he thinks is better, he’s still managing to hurt you. Either way, he’s said the words and his decision’s been made.

He can tell you’re biting at the inside of your cheek, a habit of yours he’s noticed. He knows you do it when you’re nervous or upset and his jaw tenses. He steps over to you and hugs you.

Steve rarely hugs you. There was that time when you cooked for him, and that was it. The rarity of the action tells you he means it, it matters. He’s so gentle when he does this time, his arms folding around your shoulders and his chin perching itself on top of your head.

You fall into his hold easily. You think you always will. Your arms go around his waist, cheek pressed against his shirt’s collar. You don’t think you’ve ever hugged a friend like this before.

So softly, quietly. Both of you breathing each other in and hoping the other doesn’t notice, wondering who’s gonna break away first.

Steve tilts his chin to press a kiss against your hair, his lips still against you when he mumbles, “thank you for understanding, honey.”

The pet name reassures you. Nothing has to be different, and you can be okay with that.

“Thanks for being honest. And I’m really glad to know you, too, by the way.”

Reluctantly, you pull back first, looking down at your feet as you do, too scared that your feelings are written all over your face.

“I’ll see you, yeah?” He still sounds nervous, cautious.

“We do live across the hall from each other, so…”

He huffs, it’s a barely-there laugh, but you’ll take it.

“Bye, honey.”

“Bye, Steve.”

When he leaves and shuts the door behind him, you fall onto your couch, head in your hands and mumbling about how stupid you are, how hopeless.

Steve’s senses can pick up the sound of your voice, the sound of your footsteps, he can pick out some words. Like ‘dummy’ and ‘idiot.’

He mouths the words ‘I’m sorry’ at your door.

He thinks, If whatever he encounters while patrolling tonight doesn’t, Robin’s gonna fucking kill him.

Things were awkward for a bit after that. Not enough to make you want to avoid him, though. He’s not someone you can let go of like that. He’s under your skin and he has no idea.

You’re standing outside his door with the dinner you’ve made him once again. You thought that maybe this would help make things feel normal again. Routine and friendly.

He opens the door quickly after you knock, shaking his head with a smile at the dish in your hands. “I told you, you don’t have to cook for me.”

“I told you I like doing it,” you hand him his food, and despite his protesting, he takes it easily.

Steve was relieved to hear you knocking at his door, relieved to see you with those same strands of hair falling around your face, the same shy smile you wear every time you deliver food.

“Do you wanna stay?” He asks.

“I have to go close at work.”

Steve nods. He knows where he’ll be patrolling tonight, at least.

“Okay. Thanks again.”

“It’s no big deal.”

Maybe not to you, but it is to him. Steve doesn’t want you wasting money or energy on him, but he can’t lie and say that it doesn’t feel nice to have someone care about him the way you do. To have someone actually want to take care of him, even in small ways.

He has Robin, of course he does, but it isn’t the same. He’s not sure his feelings for any person have ever been like his feelings for you.

He wants to do something for you for once, and when you go to turn around and leave, he stops you, “hey.”

“Yeah?”

“Would you let me cook for you sometime? Let me do it for you for once?”

You feel warm, your heart growing in your chest. “I’d like that.”

“Tomorrow work for you?”

“Tomorrow’s great.”

“Okay,” Steve has no idea what he’ll make, and he’ll definitely have to go grocery shopping, probably—reluctantly—call Robin for advice. That doesn’t stop him from feeling a buzz in his chest ‘cause he’ll get to see you. For longer than a couple of minutes this time.

This time, when you turn around, Steve lets you.

Your shift that night is slow and uneventful. Thankfully, so is your walk home. Even after weeks, you’re checking over your shoulder every so often, glancing up at the buildings in search of a superhero you’ve met once. One who probably meets people like you every day, who probably doesn’t even remember you.

Tomorrow comes quickly, and suddenly, you’re worrying about what to wear. Then, after making a mess of your closet, you’re standing in the hallway knocking on Steve’s door all over again.

For once, he didn’t hear you coming, too focused on making sure everything looked right, that he didn’t seem as nervous as he is. When you knock, he hides the cookbook he’d bought that morning in a cupboard before letting you in.

There’s a strand of hair falling over his forehead. That’s what you notice when you first see him. You stop yourself from reaching up and pushing it back.

“Hey, come in,” he moves aside and shuts the door behind you when you walk in.

“Smells good.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not!” You aren’t lying, but you would if you had to. If his cooking was awful, you’d probably have two servings to make him feel good about it.

He’s set up plates at the stools by his island in his kitchen. When he notices you looking there he speaks up, “sorry. I don’t have an actual table.”

You shake your head, “don’t be. Neither do I. You know, ‘cause we live in the same apartments.”

“Right, yeah.”

He gestures for you to sit down, and you do. He brings the food over, putting some on both of your plates before sitting down beside you. His knee brushes yours.

He waits for you to take a bite first, searching your face for a reaction.

“Steve, this is really good.”

He makes a mental reminder to thank Robin for the cookbook recommendation later. Right now, he focuses on the brush of his leg against yours, on the way you laugh softly at his jokes, the way your cardigan falls off your shoulder.

Steve’s eyes are on you so much that you swear you can feel it. You don’t even think he realizes that he’s staring, that he’s leaving a blazing trail wherever his eyes go.

When you look at him, you find his gaze easily, eyes meeting, saying things you couldn’t say out loud. You can't help but feel like this is more than just two friends hanging out. If it was, you probably would’ve gotten take out, and you probably wouldn’t be fighting hard to keep your eyes off of his lips. Especially when he talks.

Not a date, you remind yourself. Just friends.

Steve’s an idiot for thinking he can keep himself at a certain distance from you. He’s an idiot for ignoring his feelings and thinking that because he said you should be friends, they’d go away. It’s clear that they won’t.

He forces his eyes away from you and back down to his food, filling the tension with the first question that comes to mind.

“So, where do you work?” He already knows the answer. He’s jumped across buildings to make sure you get there safe and done the same for your walks home.

“Oh, just this small bookstore. It’s pretty quiet, but I like it there.”

“You like to read, then?” He knows this answer too. There’s a very full bookshelf in your living room.

You nod, finishing your bite of food before replying, “love it. Sometimes, when we have extra stock that isn’t selling, my boss lets me take books home for free.”

He can hear the honesty in your voice, the excitement you get when talking about something that makes you happy. He likes the sound more than he should.

Steve’s about to ask you something else when it happens; the hairs on his neck and arms standing, the goosebumps trailing across his skin, the ringing in his ears. Something’s wrong.

You can see the shift in him. His shoulders tensing, his eyebrows scrunching. You have to say his name three times before he hears you.

“Steve?”

His head snaps over to you, “hm?”

“Is everything okay? I lost you just then.”

“It’s fine,” he drops his fork onto his plate, his hands balled into fists. “I just forgot that I have to do something.”

“What?”

“I have to go. I’m so sorry, you can stay, finish your food. But I really have to go, okay?”

The last thing he wants to do is leave you, but he has to.

“Steve, are you sure everything’s okay?” You put a hand on his shoulder but he flinches away.

“It’s alright. I gotta go,” he stands and snatches his backpack on his way out the door, “I’m sorry, honey.”

And he’s gone.

You don’t finish your food. You’re stuck staring at the door after Steve leaves. It’s obvious that there's something he isn’t telling you, and you wish it didn’t bug you so much.

By the time you’re able to snap out of it, the food’s grown cold. No, you don’t eat it, but you try to occupy yourself by cleaning up the best you can without snooping through his stuff. You take as long as you can, hoping that maybe he'll come back at some point.

He doesn't.

The short walk back to your place is almost robotic, your mind in a haze, legs moving on auto-pilot.

You’ve always known that Steve hasn’t told you very much about his life. It's been clear in the way he distanced himself from you for so long, in how he likes to ask more questions, let you talk more. Still, you worry that it’s bigger than you ever thought.

You worry that out of all the seemingly impossible things you’ve wondered about what could be happening to him when seeing him injured, one of them is true.

It's worse because you like him so much. You care more than you ever should for someone that you don’t know all that well. You think you knew him best when he kissed you, when he wasn’t talking with his voice at all.

It was unguarded, like something had snapped, frayed enough to let his feelings seep through. You’d like to know him like that again. Just friends.

You sigh and head to your room to change out of the outfit you’d spent so much time choosing. Then, you do your skincare. Your apartment is completely silent, but your head is a roaring mess of noise. You finish up in minutes, though you feel like it's been longer.

It’s too early for you to go to bed, and you know you wouldn’t be able to sleep if you tried, so you head to your living room and sit on the couch, your knees tucked up to your chest.

You grab the remote and switch on the news, needing something to fill up the silence, to drown out your thoughts.

The headline on the bottom of the screen is what you notice first. The mention of Spider-man.

You rest your chin on your knees and stare at the screen, the rushed footage of that red and blue suit swinging across buildings. The screaming in your head of SteveSteveSteve fades to whispers.

You remember the sound of those webs that hold him up, the air that rushed through your hair and against your skin when he swung you home. You remember the feeling of his suit under your hands and the way the white eyes of his mask were expressive despite being fake.

It feels wrong to think about Spider-man as often as you do while wanting to be around Steve so much. It’s just curiosity, you tell yourself. He saved me and I can’t forget about it.

You’ve been subconsciously searching for him all over the place. Your walks home, the front pages of papers at newsstands. You look for his face—mask, really—and you don’t always realize what you're doing.

Still, when the segment about the hero ends, Steve floods back into your mind. Just like he always does.

He’s growing all over you, vines of ivy stringing across your being just a bit more every time you see him. You’ve never really felt that way, never had someone that you wanted to let so close. It hasn’t been long, but he knows you better than most people do.

You huff and get up to grab one of your books. You hope that the words on pages you use to escape so often will work the same way this time.

It’s late when Steve gets home, completely dark, completely quiet.

He climbs in through his window and showers like always when he finishes a patrol. He hates how he had been hoping to see you when he walked into his kitchen.

Instead, he sees that you cleaned up a lot of the dishes, that you were kind enough to do that even when he left the way he did. It sends a ping of something he has to ignore to his heart, a squeeze, an ache.

He doesn’t know how he’ll explain himself to you, because he doesn’t want to lie to you, but he can’t tell you the truth, either.

It’s completely fucked. He’s fucked.

Steve never really explained himself, and you sort of just accepted that. He’s not obligated to share every bit of his life with you, as much as you want him to. You want to be the person he’s completely himself with.

It’s selfish, and it’s absolutely not going to happen.

Things go back to normal. Well, as normal as they have been since the kiss. Rather than making him dinner, you and Steve take turns and have a meal together once a week. He’s finally convinced you to stop buying extra food just for him.

He’s even made a habit of visiting you at work when things aren’t too busy, and with every passing day, any lingering upset or concerns you had about his hasty exit that day seem to melt away.

He’s human, he has secrets, and you can only hope that they aren’t anything that’s hurting him.

The way that you seem to let things go unanswered with him make your feelings clear. You more than like him, you want to plant yourself on him the way he has on you, to be something to him.

Steve’s been trying again and again to keep himself away from you in a sense. To be platonic and be okay with that, but he’s smart enough to know that the hold you have over him is so much more.

He has no idea how you don’t see it all over him, but he figures it might be for the best. If he can’t hide it, at least you can be blind to it.

Today’s another quiet day at the bookstore. Business seems to be slowing more and more in the independent shop, and though you love the quiet, you’d hate to lose the place. The smell of the books and their pages, the section of used books with enough character to fill the space.

The first eventful part of your day so far has been the phone ringing, and you pick it up quickly.

“Hello?”

“Hey, honey,” it’s Steve, just like you’d hoped. “You busy?”

“Not at all.”

“Hungry?”

Somehow, his voice sounds even better over the phone. The crackle of it in the speakers, the way that it’s all you have to focus on since you can’t see him at the moment. It has a bigger presence.

“I could eat,” you say.

“That’s great, ‘cause I already ordered the food.”

“Steeeve.”

He can almost hear the smile in your voice, and if he shuts his eyes tight enough, he can see it, too. The shyness behind it, the way your shoulder will lift to your cheek. It’s cute.

“You don’t mind if I stop by, do you?” He asks, like it’s even a question.

“You’d show up no matter what I said.”

“But…”

“You know I don’t mind. You’ll be my first customer of the day!”

“What an honor,” there’s silence for a moment, and you can hear each other breathing on the other line. “I’ll see you in a few, ‘kay?”

“Okay.”

The phone’s hung up with a click.

In the time it takes Steve to walk (swing, but you don’t know that) over, you walk around and tidy up anything that’s out of place. You do this every time he calls to ask if it’s alright that he visits, trying to make the minutes go by faster.

You’re straightening books on the front display table when the bell above the door jingles, and soon after, a wide hand covering your eyes.

“Guess who.”

“Hmmm, let me think. Spider-man?”

You’re clearly joking, but Steve’s stunned. If you listen close enough, you can hear his sharp intake of breath at your reply. She doesn’t know, he convinces himself. She doesn’t know, shake it off.

“Ha ha. Very funny.”

Steve takes his hand away from your face and sets the paper takeout bag on the front counter next to the register, the bag crinkling as he opens it.

“Mmm,” you hum, looking at the spread of what he’s brought you. “You’re the best.”

He likes being called the best by you, and he likes the feeling he gets when he hears it. Like he’s someone important, someone good.

“Yeah, well. I’ve gotta make up for all of the meals you’ve made me.”

He always says that, and you always tell him the same things. “You don’t owe me anything, Steve.”

He absolutely does. He owes you so much. For the food you’ve made him, for patching him up and never pushing the subject, for being the person you are and bringing out the person he hasn’t been in a long, long time.

He won’t tell you that, though, so he just shakes his head. “Dig in.”

You do, and so does he, the white, cardboard containers spread across the counter. You talk between bites of food, the easy kind of conversation that isn’t very common, especially for someone like you.

You don’t have people, really. Steve is the someone you do have.

He asks you about the book you have sitting on the counter, and he listens to everything you say like he really cares. You bond over the poor water pressure in your showers, and you laugh at Steve’s impression of your landlord. It’s your favorite kind of lunch break.

Your shifts usually feel slow, but when Steve shows up, time flies by. Before you know it, you’re stacking the empty boxes and tossing them in the garbage.

“Thanks for the food, Steve.”

“‘Course.” He’s about to say something else when it happens again.

The tingling over his skin, the goosebumps spreading all over, his hairs standing up. He takes a deep breath and shuts his eyes, forgetting that you’re there to see him do it, focusing on his senses and where he has to go.

“Steve?”

Shit. He has to leave again. At least he made it through the meal this time. That’s something.

“Yeah?”

“Are you alright?”

“Perfect, yeah. Just, um, a headache.”

You don’t look convinced, but like you so often do, you drop it. Steve doesn’t know why you let him get away with so much, and he feels awful for it. He’ll tell you one day, maybe, when it’s safe. Just not today.

“I have some water, here,” you go to grab it but he stops you.

“That’s okay, honey. I think I’ll just head home.”

“Okay.”

“Have a good rest of your shift, okay?”

“Yeah. Bye.”

He grabs his backpack and heads out the door. You wait for him to be a few steps away and then you peek out the door, eyes following his figure on the sidewalk.

You see him break into a run before turning into an alleyway. You’re confused all over again.

Steve really wasn’t expecting it to be so bad this time, especially considering the fact that the sun’s still up.

He’d changed into his suit in that alley you saw him run into, hiding behind a dumpster and swinging off as quick as he could when he was done. He should’ve guessed it’d be serious by how strong his senses came on. Should’ve seen it coming.

He was a little busy thinking about you.

But then he saw what was going on and forced himself to focus. There was a group, maybe five, six people, who'd made some sort of enhanced weapons using electricity, and his superpowers, as great as they are, don’t protect him from the shocks those things could cause.

Not to mention how outnumbered he was. He knew this one could take a while. First, he focused on getting anyone in danger out of there, clearing the area until it was just him, the people with the weapons, and news reporters stupid enough to stay on scene.

He had to be smart for this one, so he used heights to his advantage, staying above them all while tracking them quickly. Steve also made sure they didn’t start heading in the direction of the bookstore, your bookstore.

The first two were easy to get, the ones that fell behind their group. Steve was able to web them up without getting too close.

It gets tougher after that. The others seem smarter, strategic, and he had to be better than them to make it stop. He takes a second to hide from them, closing his eyes and really letting his senses do the work.

When he opens his eyes again, things move in a blur.

He’s flipping and ducking, narrowly avoiding their shots, running harder than he has in a while. It’s the type of day that’ll leave him sore in the morning, he knows that for sure. Before he really processes it, there’s only two guys left to catch.

There’s a wake of broken and burning things behind them, but Steve can’t stop to fix anything until this is taken care of, so he doesn’t even look back.

Just as he tries to web one of them, they shoot at him, and the electric current collides with his web, sending a shock up his arm. A zap so quick, he couldn’t see it coming. He’s distracted from it, his hand shaky and it makes things harder.

After some swinging and punching, he manages to get one guy. In the midst of it, he’s lost the other one. At least, until he feels a spark of pain in his side. The electricity was focused enough to leave a welt on his skin, one he can already feel developing.

He’s too late to avoid the second hit when he spots the guy, ducked behind a dumpster, peeking out like a sniper. The same side is hit, and he knows another mark will prove that.

Steve has to rush around the corner to get out of sight and recover for a moment, a hand—shaking and sweaty in his glove—coming to hover over the burn marks on his suit.

“Fuck,” he breathes. The pain is sharp and hot, the kind that doesn’t go away until it’s taken care of. “Okay. Get the guy, and go. It’s fine.”

He grunts when he stands straight again, another noise escaping him when he shoots a web and swings around the corner back to the alley. The last guy is still by the dumpster, and Steve lets go of his web and lands close enough to knock him off balance.

The guy must panic, because he pulls the trigger on Steve and manages to nick his side a third time. From this close, the current is only amplified. Steve’s knocked to the side, but he manages to stay upright.

Get him, and go home. Do it. He has to push himself, and it has to be enough to finish the job. When he realizes that he’s closer to the bookstore than he was before, he clenches his fists and punches the man hard enough that he falls to the ground.

Steve webs his there, and then he slumps against the wall of the alleyway, his side burning, his breathing short. He has to get home.

He breathes out a deep breath and stands, shooting his first web and gritting his teeth as he goes up with it. He swings by news anchors and finds it in himself to mumble, “fucking idiots,” at them.

By the time he gets inside his apartment via the window, it’s dark outside, and he doesn’t know how long he spent wrangling that group. He’s a mess of panting and sweating, his suit scorched and his skin an ugly color.

He takes a cool shower and throws on a thin shirt and the first pair of sweatpants he finds. He has to sit on his bed for a solid ten minutes to make sure he doesn’t pass out the next time he stands.

But when he does get up, he heads to his door like the absolute idiot he is. He heads into the hall to find you.

You stand up quick enough to get a head rush when he knocks on your door. You know it’s him, that’s not the question going through your head. No, you’re wondering if he’s okay.

Your heart’s already racing when you open the door. It gets quicker when you see him.

“Steve?” Your eyes flicker all over his face, searching for blood or bruising. Anything at all. “You okay?”

Steve’s eyes are bloodshot, his forehead damp with sweat and the droplets of water falling from his hair. Even so, all he tells you is: “I just wanted to make sure you-” his face scrunches, he pants between his words “-you got home okay.”

“I’m good. I’m alright,” you say, though it’s obvious since you’re standing right in front of him. “What about you?”

“I’m fine.” He holds up his arm in a weak thumbs up and winces with the movement. You aren’t fooled in the slightest.

“No, you’re not. Get inside and let me help you.”

“Honey-”

You grab his hand gently, your fingers wrapped around his. You can feel him shaking as you tug him inside and shut the door. “Come on.”

He doesn’t really have it in him to argue with you, and as much as he shouldn’t, he wants to be around you, to hurt less because of your comfort and your soft touch.

Steve lets you lead him into your bathroom once more, watches as you bend down to grab the first-aid kit from the cabinet under your sink. He still has the bandages you gave him, and he’s lucky he won’t need them now since he’s not bleeding. He didn’t bring them with him.

You guide him to stand in front of the counter where the light is best and reach for his face, your hands holding his cheeks and tilting him down to you. His hands grasp your wrists, like an instinct.

There’s guilt in his eyes that you try to ignore. A frown tugs between your brows, at the corners of your lips.

“You look a little pale. What happened?”

“I can’t- I can’t tell you that right now.”

You push his hair away from his forehead before pulling your hands away. You bite the inside of your cheek and nod. You’re more worried about him right now; you can worry about whatever happened later.

Steve goes to lean against the counter. He grunts when his back hits it, his hand covering his side in reflex. You catch it.

“Take your shirt off.”

“Wha-”

“You’re hurt, Steve. I can tell. Let me see it.”

“I’m fine.”

“Stop saying that and let me see. Please.”

He blows out a slow breath and reaches for the hem of his shirt, because he knows you won’t let it go until he shows you. Taking his shirt off is uncomfortable, and he makes quiet sounds to prove it. He keeps his eyes cast onto the floor when he tosses his shirt aside.

You look down slowly, your eyes passing down his neck and chest first, then lingering on his stomach for a second too long. You’d never expect him to be built the way he is, lines of muscle under his skin.

You can’t focus on that for long, not when you notice the three welts on his side. There’s already bruising, shades of purple and green spreading, outlined in redness.

You swear you can feel something crack in your chest, the sadness that seeps into your eyes in the form of tears along your waterline. “Oh my god.”

He hates the way your voice sounds, the way your expression shows how worried you are for him. He hates that someone like you is so concerned about him.

“It looks worse than it is.”

“Steve.”

You kneel on the tiles in front of him to get a closer look. Your hands hover over the marks, too afraid to touch him, too afraid to hurt him even more.

Steve’s shaky hands grab yours, squeezing your fingers like he’s reminding you he’s okay, he’s alive enough to do that. You don’t look at his face, but he can’t look away from yours.

“What can I do to help?” You ask.

“You’re doing more than enough,” he says quietly, his voice a low hum in the air. “They’ll go away.”

Who could possibly be hurting him? This boy with soft eyes and a kindness even the highest of walls couldn’t keep hidden.

“I’m so sorry, Steve.”

You lean forward and peck the skin of his stomach, just beside the bruises. You’re not thinking about the consequences when you do it, you’re only thinking about how much pain he must keep hidden from everyone. About how much you’d do to make it go away.

Steve doesn’t know whether to cry or kiss you stupid for it. He settles on tugging you up to stand with his grip on your hands and leaning his forehead against yours. He’s not thinking about the consequences, either.

“Don’t you dare be sorry. Not you.”

“You’re hurting.”

“And you have nothing to do with that. If anything, you do the opposite.”

You squeeze your eyes shut to stop any tears from escaping.

“Will you stay for a bit?”

No, there’s absolutely no thinking about the consequences when you’re this close, when your hands are in his. There’s no thinking when Steve agrees.

“Yeah, honey. I’ll stay.”

You nod and breathe in, catching the scent of his body wash, and pull away. You have to force yourself to let go of him and move out of his way so he can put his shirt back on.

Steve has to stop himself from reaching for you when you step away. Instead, he tries not to wince again when he picks up his shirt and pulls it on.

He follows you out into the living room, sits beside you on the couch and leaves distance between you. He observes you as you pick out a movie to put on, thanks you when you toss him a blanket.

He feels warm all over at the way you seem to take care of him without thinking. It spreads from his chest and expands and expands and expands until it’s everywhere from his head to his toes.

Somehow, you end up with Steve’s head in your lap.

The inches separating you and him on the couch grew shorter and shorter as you spoke until your thighs touched. You both acted like you didn’t notice.

Then, the further you got into the movie, the quieter you both became. So quiet that you hadn’t noticed how tired Steve was until you felt his head drop against your shoulder. You were barely able to smile at the action before he jerked himself upright.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. You’re tired.”

“You must be, too.”

You shake your head, “not really. You should lay down.”

“I can just go,” he said, like that’s what you’d prefer.

“I’ve got a comfy lap, promise.”

Steve blames his tiredness and the haze of it all for agreeing and laying on his side, his cheek against the top of your thigh.

He’d never say it out loud, but he does feel really comfortable in the moment. He almost forgets about the bruising on his side. It takes a lot for him not to wrap his arms around you then.

“You can sleep if you want to,” you say, noticing the way his eyes blink heavily.

“Then you’ll be stuck here.”

That wouldn’t be so bad, you think. “I’ll go to bed when I want to. I’ll be sneaky, you won’t even notice.”

“As long as you wake me up if you have to.”

“Sure I will.”

Steve knows you absolutely won’t—he knows you’d rather fall asleep where you’re sitting and risk a sore neck than disturb him, because that’s who you are—but he doesn’t call you on it. Instead, he shuts his eyes and lets the comfort of your apartment, of you, put him to sleep.

You look down at him after a bit, and you notice his even breaths, the pout on his mouth as he sleeps. Softly, you run your fingers through his hair, pulling apart the tangles gently.

Without thinking, you keep doing it until the movie ends. You still aren’t tired, and you really don’t want to wake him up, so you grab your remote and switch it to the news.

They’re talking about Spider-man, you realize. They talk about him a lot.

“Today, a group of criminals with illegally enhanced weapons were taken down by none other than our city’s masked hero, Spider-man.”

The anchor talks in that classic news lady voice, one that would usually have you turning down the volume, but where Spider-man’s involved, you’re inclined to listen.

“We have some witness clips here, where you can see him in action.”

The screen switches to show a video that was taken on a bystander’s phone, the footage shaky, the witness dumb enough to stand there and film rather than run.

You can see Spider-man fighting someone, can see the quick flashes of webbing as well as the opponent’s weapon shooting. You can see how quick he is, the way his reflexes work. You think about what it was like to see it with your own eyes.

Then, it cuts to a new video, where he seems to be swinging away from the scene, but towards the camera. The anchor says something that makes your ears ring.

“It looks like there are some burn marks on his suit where Spider-man was hit. Three on his side, I’m being told.”

Three marks. On his side.

It has to be a coincidence that Steve showed up to your door after the whole Spider-man thing had happened with the exact same injuries, right?

Then, what if it isn’t? What if this is why he’s been getting hurt all this time?

You think about every interaction with Steve you’ve had. The day you met, when he carried your boxes without breaking a sweat. The way he tried so hard to isolate himself from you, the lack of details he shares about his life. The injuries he’s come to you with, the scars you’ve noticed but haven’t mentioned.

And most recently, the way he’s left in a hurry after zoning out for a minute.

You think your heartbeat might be loud enough to wake Steve up.

Steve.

You look down at his face, at the delicate skin under his eyes, at the way his eyelashes rest there in his sleep. You look down at this boy, asleep in your lap, and realize that he’s carrying all that weight by himself.

If you’re right about this, about him being Spider-man, you think he deserves even more than what you give him. More than the dinners and the company, more than the friendship. He deserves to be hugged, to be told how strong he is.

Fuck, you need to thank him, if you’re right. Because he’s the one who saved you, the one who brought you home and made sure you got inside, the one who reminded you to take care of your wrist.

Holy shit. That realization makes your head spin.

“Who are you, Steve?” You whisper. He can’t hear you, he’s fast asleep, but you ask anyway.

When you finally manage to lift his head from your lap and get up, shutting off the TV as you do, you head to your bedroom. You lay on your back on top of your sheets and stare at the ceiling.

You don’t sleep very much that night.

Cooking has become something to do to keep you busy, to take your mind off things. So, when you’re sure you’re not getting any more sleep, it feels natural to head to the kitchen and start making breakfast.

You move about your small kitchen as quietly as you can, the presence of the boy asleep on your couch something hard to ignore. The boy you’re pretty sure is Spider-man, the boy you more than like.

Despite Steve’s enhanced hearing, he doesn’t wake up due to any noise. No, for the first time in a long time, he blinks his eyes open slowly and lets the sunlight seeping through the window get him up. He stretches before standing up from your couch.

There’s a stiff ache in his side, which isn’t surprising, but it still has him cursing under his breath at the reminder of yesterday.

His voice makes you peek over your shoulder at him. “Good morning.”

Steve rubs his eyes and looks over at you standing by the stove. He has to rub them again to make sure he isn’t dreaming.

He walks over and leans against the counter next to where you cook. “Hi. Thanks for letting me stay.”

You give him a quick smile, a sunbeam.

You’ve decided to try and act normal with him, act like you don’t know this huge piece of information. He deserves the space to tell you in his own time. That is, if he’ll ever tell you at all.

“Yeah. You feel okay?”

“Bit sore. It’ll go away.”

“I doubt my cheap couch helped with that.”

“It helped.”

He sounds so sure about that, like it was the best sleep he could’ve gotten.

“Are you hungry?” You ask. You’ve already cooked enough for him, too.

“I don’t want to overstay or anything.”

“Steve, I’m offering. I’d like it if you stayed for breakfast.”

His stomach growls before he’s able to reply. You both laugh softly, you amused, him embarrassed. “Guess that’s a yes.”

Steve acts the same as he usually does as you eat, keeping conversations steered towards you, pretending like there aren’t bruises under his shirt as you speak. He seems to forget the powers that he has, the persona that’s a kept secret.

He wants to thank you over and over, to apologize to you over and over, to tell you all of the things he swore he couldn’t feel for you. He wants to tell you so much, but he’s scared—not nearly as brave as he is when he has his mask on—and he can’t get anything out.

Steve just wishes he could put into words exactly what you do for him, how unfair he knows it is to ask of you, how much it means that you help him regardless.

Instead of doing any of that, he eats the food you cook and shares more smiles with you than he does with anyone.

You watch as he takes his empty plate and rinses it off for you, the way his t-shirt is a bit tighter across his upper back, the set of his shoulders. Those shoulders that carry so much all by himself.

You’re frowning before you can help it. Not because he hasn’t told you, you can understand that, but because he must be so convinced that he’s better off doing it all alone.

“Thanks again for breakfast. You cook too many meals for me.” He lingers by your door, rocking on his feet like he’s not sure where to go.

“You sure you’re okay?”

Steve’s expression shifts in the smallest way when you ask. He can’t wrap his head around someone caring about him—besides Robin—to ask so often.

“I’m okay.”

Before you can really think about it you walk up to him and wrap your arms around his shoulders. You squeeze him as tight as you can while being mindful not to hurt him. Your face is tucked into the side of his neck, and he can feel your lips on his skin.

His arms seem to move before he’s aware of it, hugging you back around your waist, squeezing you just as tight. He needed this, he thinks, and somehow, you knew he did.

“I really care about you, Steve.”

He rests his chin on your head, breathing in the smell of your shampoo, shutting his eyes to try and capture how it feels to be held by you, to hold you.

“Me too, honey.”

/ᐠ(๏‸๏)ᐟ\

thank u for reading!! if u enjoyed, please please consider reblogging and letting me know what you think!!! it helps more than you’d think <3

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marvelous-slut · 4 months

Text

Call Back Pt. 2 - Chibs Telford x Reader

It took me forever to write this shit cause my new job has me in a thousand different directions. But here she is. Part two!

“Hey baby.” Gemma says as you walk through the door. You smell the hints of bacon, French toast and of course cigarettes through out the house. “You hungry?” She asks, you kick off your shoes and plop down into the chair at the dining room table.

“I would offer help but looks like you’re done. Smells great.” You say, Gemma smiles and sits down the plate of eggs. You grab your cup, filling it with orange juice. Trying to make yourself comfortable in the chair, your legs still aching from last night.

“Don’t worry, you can help when I clean this shit up.” You both chuckle, before long Jax makes his way to the table. He sits down only for a moment to grab some French toast and devours it. He pours himself some milk and drinks it in one setting.

“Someone’s in a rush.” Gemma says, putting eggs onto her plate. Jax looks up, shaking his head. Something has happened with the club, you can tell. You can always tell.

“Fuckin’ short on guys again today. First it’s Bobby saying he’s got shit with the baby mom, then Chibs saying he can’t be there today for the gun meet. Something about he has to stay close incase the wife calls.” You drop your fork, picking it up quickly in an attempt to make the shock your feel less noticeable.

“Fiona?! What is that bitch coming back here for? Hasn’t she fucked his life up enough? Bitch should have decided on that when he was in the hospital.” Gemma asks. Hospital? How did you miss it? You question yourself. You visited him frequently after that bomb went off and you didn’t see his wife? You feel froze in place. How stupid? How stupid could you have been to believe anything that bastard said to you?

“Yep. Apparently it’s about their kid, or working out things. I don’t know I got mixed up on what he told me. I’m just pissed cause we’re two guys short now. Even Tig is more reliable right now and that’s saying a lot.” Jax gives Gemma a kiss on the head and gives you a hug before he heads to the door. Clay had already headed out early in the morning to finish up some things at the club house. You feel your hand around the knife that laid on the table, tapping it up and down. Gemma notices and decides it’s her business too of what’s going on.

“What’s with the knife?” She asks. You pause for a moment, thinking of how to get the frustration out without telling her too much.

“Well, just a hypothetical question, if you’d been seeing a man and found out he was playing you like a fucking fiddle the whole time you’d been fucking him, what would you do?” You ask, holding the knife in place now but not letting up on your grip. She lowers your hand down.

“Well baby, I’d be holding a knife just like that. What’s going on?” You sigh, tossing the knife down. Instantly you know, Gemma knows too.

“It’s nothing, just a th-“ Before you can finish your sentence she blurts out.

“Fuck me! This is about Chibs!” She blurts out. “What the hell, how long has it been going on?” You feel your heart pounding in your chest.

“Look, that’s not important. I’m just pissed, he told me he was done with his wife and now this?” You put your hands into your head, forcing back tears. “How could I be so fucking dumb?” You mutter out, Gemma runs her hand up and down your back.

“Listen, look at me.” She says, you look up to make eye contact with her. “Fuck him. I love Chibs. I do, but that’s a sleaze move and he knows it. The best thing I can tell you, act like you’re unbothered. You go to the club house tonight when everyone’s there, you ignore him.” You sigh, throwing your head back.

“Gem. I don’t even wan-“ She cuts you off before you can finish.

“I don’t give a damn, you’re not gonna lay at your house and sulk over this. You’re gonna get your shit together, put on a good outfit and show his ass you’re not bothered.” You look at her and know she means business. “And I won’t tell Clay if you’re worried about it. I’d like to kick Chibs ass myself right now but I still don’t want the bastard to get killed.” You nod in agreement.

“Now, eat, get your ass home and get the crying out of your system and then get ready. Make sure you wear something that shows the girls too.”

________

As horrible as you felt, you managed to drag yourself to the mirror and look at yourself. Not bad for someone who’d been sobbing for a large part of the day. Once you got to the club house, you saw Jax. He looked much more relaxed than this morning. You turn your head and meet eyes with Chibs, he doesn’t even look upset. You feel the anger flowing through your body. Feeling your fist clinch. You remember what Gemma said - unbothered. You look away and keep heading to the bar. Chibs eyes still watching you as you go. A moment passes as you decide on what to drink. Water is probably the best choice, but the booze would surely help how you feel.

“You look sad.” The young familiar face says as he sits next to you. You turn to him, examining him closer up than you had before. Juice was his name.

“I won’t lie, I am.” He smiles softly, pushing a beer toward you. “But this alcohol is gonna help me not remember that. I hope.” You say, taking a drink of the beer.

“You wanna talk about it?” He asks, you smile at him shaking your head.

“It’s better I don’t. What’s up with you? Most of you stay 100 feet away from me at all times.” Juice smiles, looking over to see Clay with Gemma. Since Clay had made the comment a few weeks ago to Juice about how the two of you should ‘get to know each other better’ he couldn’t stop thinking about you. Clay admired Juice, he’d always wanted a son. Jax was close enough to it, but he also knew Jax would never feel that way about him.

“Look, I think you’re a pretty girl. I don’t like seeing pretty girls sad.” You hadn’t interacted with Juice much, most time when you were at the club house he wasn’t or he was passed out inside a crow eater.

“Thanks Juice. You’re sweet. I should have known, you’re the least scary looking one here.” He giggles and rolls his eyes.

“What? The tattoos on the side of my head & the mohawk doesn’t scare you?”

You let out a chuckle, it felt good to laugh and enjoy yourself. You run your hand over the side of his head where his tattoos lay.

“No way. They’re real? I always thought it had to be temporaries you kept putting on.” You joke, he laughs softly. Before you can say anything else, you see Chibs standing behind Juice.

“Juicy boy, can I have a minute?” He asks motioning to you. Juice nods his head, silently upset that Chibs interfered with the interaction.

“I’ll see you later?” He asks, you smile and nod your head. Even blowing him a kiss as he walks away. Chibs motions for you to follow him outside. Once the two of you are outside, he’s pacing back and forth.

“What? I don’t give you attention for five minutes and you’re out with the young Buck aye? Makes a lot of sense. You just want a man to keep you occupied.” You laugh, shaking your head. You should walk away, but you don’t.

“You know what? Fuck you! Fuck. You. You’re the one who lied about your wife, you lied about what you wanted with me and your wife. You don’t get the right to drag me out of a party and try to make me feel bad.” You blurt out, surprising yourself that there aren’t tears running down your face. “Maybe next time you’re trying to play both sides with women, you shouldn’t tell the fucking girls step brother about your issues.” Your back is against the wall as he stands over top of you. His hands against the concrete wall.

“It’s complicated-“ He begins to speak, at this point you didn’t need to hear it, you didn’t even want to hear it. He instantly regrets the comments he made, but it was too late to take it back.

“No. No, Chibs it isn’t. You lied. If you wanted your wife back, all you had to do was tell me that. I’m a big girl and can handle the hurt.” You gently shove him away as he tried to get closer to you. “I’ll make it less complicated for you. I’m done with you, I’m done with this. Enjoy getting your family back. You deserve it. I hope your sorry ass goes back to Ireland and you live happily ever after.” You brush past him and head to your car. Despite the pain that ached in your chest you were proud of yourself. Realizing it was time to stop beating a dead horse. Chibs sighs deeply, he pulls out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. Before he lights it, he hears a familiar voice behind him.

“Something you need to tell me Chibby?” He feels his body go cold, turning around to meet the face of both Clay & Jax.

“Aye. Fuck me.” He says, throwing his hands up in the air.

#sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy x reader #chibs telford #chibs telford x reader #chibs x you #chibs telford imagine #chibs x reader #chibs imagine #soa chibs #chibs

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aurossaga · 6 months

Text

To hold your hands

Venti x gn!reader

Genre: Fluff!

Word count: ~1k

Warnings: Alcohol mention

Summary: His fingers twitch only for a quick moment, which would likely not have been very noticeable had you not been so familiar with the way Venti plays. Still, you notice.

As you finish brushing the dirt off your foraged mushrooms and carrots, your eyes drift over to your companion, sitting on a tree stump in the forest clearing. The sunlight catches his relaxed features perfectly as he carefully examines the string of his bow, making sure it wasn’t getting too loose. You pack up your bag, get up from the forest floor and make your way back over to him. He gives you a quick glance, the corners of his mouth curling up into a smile at the sight of you without him really thinking too hard about it.

“Done already?” Venti asks, getting up from his spot as well. The bow in his hands dissipates as he stores it away. It still puzzles you how vision holders can do that…

“Yep. I just have to wash all these when we get home.” You gesture to your bag, as you show him today’s findings. “Not many people come all the way out here. It didn’t take long to fill my bag.”

Venti laughs, putting a hand on your shoulder as he follows you back toward the path leading back to the city.

“Well, lucky us! Between everything we’ve gathered and the fine wines I brought along, I dare claim tonight’s dinner will be absolutely delectable!”

You nod absentmindedly, thinking of how to best prepare the vegetables once you get home. The soft crunch of your shoes on the gravelly path forms a sort of rhythm that you try to keep up as you walk, the chattering of birds and rustle of leaves becoming a nice backdrop as you listen to Venti going on about all sorts of things, occasionally offering your input. Before long, the two of you have made it back to your home.

While you prepare the ingredients for cooking, Venti sits in the living room, playing a few calming melodies on his lyre. As he plucks away at the strings, forming the most beautiful of tunes, you can’t help but listen, nearly losing all focus on your current task as you momentarily lose yourself in his enchanting compositions. The seamless flow of notes stalls for naught but a quick second, before picking up right where it left off. As you continue cutting up the ingredients and adding them to the pan, you wonder what could have caused him to stutter like that… Venti practically never hesitates when playing the lyre, even when he’s just practicing. Suddenly, you hear a quiet groan from the other room, as the music once again stalls for a moment. You add a splash of wine to the pan before reducing the heat and placing a lid on top, allowing it to simmer for a while as you step out of the kitchen.

When you enter the living room and find the source of the inconsistent song, you decide to observe him for a moment before interjecting. His brows are tightly knit together as if in deep concentration as he’s practically bent over the lyre in his hands, meticulously strumming out an old melody. His fingers twitch only for a quick moment, which would likely not have been very noticeable had you not been so familiar with the way Venti plays. Still, you notice. And it seems he is agonizing over it as well. He lets out an irritated sigh as he places the lyre down in defeat for now. Only then does he seem to notice you leaning against the doorframe, observing him.

“Oh, sorry. Were you listening? I can keep playing for you if you wish.” Venti reaches over towards the lyre again. His smile holds a grain of hesitation, one that you have gotten really good at noticing over the years. You often have to pry information like this out of him, things he neglected or ignored for himself. Without replying, you just walk over to him, and sit down next to him on the sofa. His somewhat confused expression quickly turns to a downcast one as you gently take his hands into your own.

“Ah…”

He sighs quietly. You study his expression. His deep blue and green eyes are avoiding your own gaze, his lips slightly parted as he struggles to come up with anything else to say. He knows he can't hide anything from you.

“Venti… you’ve been practicing an awful lot lately.” You softly tilt his chin up to make him look at you, as you offer him a calming smile. With your free hand, you gently rub calming circles into the palm of his hand.

“I… Yeah, maybe. Hehe…” Venti’s sheepish smile and nervous giggle makes you want to laugh a bit as well. He’s normally rather hard to read for most people, so he doesn’t really know how to handle how effortlessly you see through his facade. He doesn’t really notice how much he lets his guard down when you two are alone together either.

“Here, let me help.”

You grab onto his dominant hand with both of yours, gently applying pressure to the base of his fingers. You delicately rub his joints in circular motions, before continuing the gesture toward the palm of his hand. You remember to make sure to give the same attention to both sides as you go. Venti is uncharacteristically quiet as you work, his eyes fixating on your delicate expression.

He is often told he can be a bit more trouble than most people are willing to put up with, but somehow, he never feels that way around you. You’ve always taken time out of your day to talk to him, inviting him along to menial tasks, listening to his ramblings, his poems, his songs…

And right now, as you so tenderly massage his aching muscles that he strained trying to write you a song as a thank you gift, he can no longer excuse the way heat rises to his cheeks or the way his heart beats ever so slightly faster around you.

Right now, sitting opposite of you as your gentle hands massage his own, he realizes he’s fallen for you.

#venti x reader #venti x gn reader #venti x you #genshin impact venti #genshin x reader #venti genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin venti #genshin venti x reader #venti #gn reader #tw alcohol #alcohol mention

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shortstrawberry · 5 months

Text

Was having midnight craving of Donna Beneviento so here's some possessive professor Donna.

Professor Donna sees you being too chatty with a fellow classmate in her class. She's not happy.

Today is a really bad day to have a cold.

You let out another loud sneeze in the class, whispering sorry to your poor seatmates. You just had to have a cold when you had a important test to give in your Botany paper. You look down at your answer sheet. The bubbles you had filled seemed almost blurry, your eyes were just that watery. But you're pretty sure you have done enough to at least pass this exam. Not that you need to worry about that, as you can feel your Botany Professor's worried gaze on you.

Dr. Donna Beneviento. Chef extraordinaire, maker of best hot chocolate, giver of best cuddles. Also your Botany professor. And your girlfriend. Although Donna and you prefer the term "partners" much more. The relationship is that serious afterall.

It's in fact so serious on Donna's part that you know if you decide to quit education and decide to just pursue your lifelong dream of being a potato couch, Donna will happily support it. But no, you also have the lifelong dream to open a florist shop, and so here you are: suffering in a botany test.

"Hey, I have a heatpack. You'll feel good if I put it on your forehead."

You do feel so deathly chill right now, the cough clogging up your lungs for a extra measure. So you nodded at your kind seatmate, letting them take care of you.

You thought your seatmate would just place the heatpack on your forehead and be done with it. But no, they started to pet your head as well, coaxing you to fall asleep.

"Hey, you've done enough. Take a nap. I'll keep watch if Professor Beneviento comes around."

Hearing your partner's name, you immediately realised you've done fucked up. Thing is, Donna can be... Uh...a little possessive.

You heard the sound of pencil snapping from the direction of your girlfriend.

Okay, maybe very possessive.

You looked up at your seatmate, hoping that they'd get the hint to maybe keep their hand away. But no, they made the situation worse, by starting to play around with your hair, and then giving a small forehead massage. Instead of it making you feel good, you just felt more worried.

You could hear the boots of your girlfriend approaching you two.

"I think you should focus on the exam."

Yep, that's Professor Donna's seethingly pissed voice. It's quiet like the icy tundras, but you can feel the anger simmering in it.

The hand that was on her head was immediately off, and soon replaced by the gloved one of your girlfriend.

She petted you quietly, then bent down to whisper directly in your ears.

"Do you need me to take you to the infirmary, cara mia?"

My darling. Donna uses that Italian phrase on you when she wants to stake her claim. Otherwise it's usually dolcezza on most days.

You're now on a precarious situation. If you say yes, surely other students would find it strange that their Professor is showing such favouritism towards you. On other hand, if you say no, Donna would probably get more upset. Donna does not like it when she is denied a chance to take care of you.

And you can just sense just how badly Donna wants to bring you in her arms and feed you her hot chocolate.

Still, you care about your girlfriend's professor reputation more then Donna does. So you shook your head no, quietly croaking out your excuse.

"No... Too tired."

You heard Donna exhale in even more concern. But thankfully she didn't force the issue. Instead, she went ahead and took off her black trenchcoat and draped it on top of you. She petted your head one last time, but you can sense that Donna really wanted to kiss you instead.

She did however whisper certain words in your ear.

"We'll get you home soon, cara mia. And then I'll take care of you."

As you dozed off, you decided that you're really looking forward to Donna's possessive caretaking.

Wanna see the possessive caretaking? Lemme know!

#resident lover #donna beneviento #resident evil village #donna beneviento x reader #resident evil x reader #resident evil fanfiction #re8 #resident evil 8 #professor donna #donna simping time

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lunarmoves · 2 months

Text

through pixel eyes (chapter two)

pairing: DCA sun/moon/eclipse x reader

mentions: kinitopet/virtual au, gender neutral reader, general creepiness

a/n: i looked at this chapter for too long and it feels like ~garbage~ but! its here! take a shot every time i use the word "window" or "desktop" LMFAOO i'm going insane

word count: 6.8k+

masterlist | part one

ao3 link

You stayed up way too long last night, scrolling on your phone in bed, and now you’re paying the price for it. Namely, with a completely dead phone and a familiar, fatigued itch to your eyes once you manage to pry them open to start your day. It’s nothing you’re unaccustomed to, however, so you power through it knowing you’ll end up taking a nap later.

Fumbling out of bed, you plug your phone into a nearby outlet to charge and make your way through your morning routine. Cold water from your bathroom sink helps to refresh and wake you up properly so you can proceed with your tasks for the day. You throw open the curtains of your living room and kitchen so you can bask in the honeyed light coming from the sun, sweet and lush as it paints your walls a vibrant gold.

Breakfast is made, evaluations are done, forms are submitted—all before late afternoon. You thank your past self for all the leftovers you made to cruise you through the next few days. It’s always nice not having to cook in the evenings. You lounge around for a bit on your living room couch and indulge in a short nap before you plop yourself down in front of your computer for the long haul.

Navigating to your email, you pull up the submission form once more and fill out the basic information for now. You can’t even count how many times you’ve done this before for numerous other products. Companies tend to use the same generic questions, though sometimes they’re specific depending on what is being developed. At other times they don’t even require you to fill out a form and instead have you attend weekly meetings or update them via email. Either way, you can do shit like this in your sleep.

Alright, game time. You minimize the form’s window and double click on the FazPals icon as you fumble for your headphones. Nestling them around your ears, you watch in amusement as Sun pops up by sticking his head down from the top of your monitor like he’s perched upon a ledge just out of view.

“Friend!!” he cheers and waves both his hands at you zealously. You’re almost tempted to return the gesture. He swings the rest of his body down in a fluid flip and lands in the center of your desktop with a dazzling twirl. Confetti erupts into the air around him, the little digital strips of color disappearing once they float to the “ground” Sun stands on.

That same small, unlabeled window pops up at his side for you to type in. ‘hi sun.’

“Hello, hello! You’re back early!” Sun claps his little hands together and sways side to side rather jovially, bouncing slightly with each bob of his head. You have to raise your volume a little to hear his voice better, though the dialogue box near his head certainly picks up the slack.

‘yep. how r u doin?’ It’s so easy to slip into a typical conversation with him and push against the limits of his software. Whether that’s a good or bad thing, you’re uncertain.

Sun’s head twitches to the side, white eyes seemingly looking right at you. “Absolutely fantastic now that you’re here!” He winks at you, grin curling at the tips. “What would you like to do today?”

The textbox waits for your response. You purse your lips as you contemplate. What have you done with Sun thus far? He told you some fun facts and played games with you. That just left… ‘can u tell me a story?’

He pauses—minutely, very minutely—then resumes his swaying like nothing had happened. His rays jerk slightly outwards and he smiles in a mischievous sort of way. “Hmm, why don’t you ask Moon for one later? He is much better at storytelling than I am!”

You squint at him. Well, alright then. You hadn’t been expecting that sort of response. Shouldn’t they both be equally as good at storytelling if they are made from the same code? Maybe it’s a personality thing. You consider questioning him, but before you can type anything in, Sun forges on. “Is there anything else you would like to do? Remember, input ‘/help’ for available commands!”

Your fingers tap against the surface of your desk lightly, but in the end, you brush off his response. You shrug to yourself and pick the other option you hadn’t yet done with Sun. ‘then can u tell me a joke?’

“Oh boy! I sure can!” He smiles widely and pulls out a pair of large, black glasses from behind him with one hand. With the other hand, he pulls out a small, nondescript book. Is that a… joke book? Putting the glasses delicately on his face—you’re not sure how they stay on when he has no ears, but you chalk it up to technological magic—he clears his artificial voice and cracks the book open. “Why did the star get arrested?”

It seems the celestial theme extends to jokes too. Go figure. ‘i dunno. why?’

“Because it was a shooting star!” He grins, his rays spinning about his head like what he’d just said had been a particularly good one. You snicker more due to his reaction than the joke itself.

‘that was so bad,’ you type in light jest. And also kind of dark? ‘why did i laugh.’

“Because it was clearly good!” Sun replies. The glasses he has on makes his eyes look comically larger than they actually are and it has to be the silliest thing you’ve seen. “Here’s a better one: Why didn’t the Dog Star laugh at any jokes?”

You can see the punchline coming from a mile away, but you still indulge him. ‘idk, why?’

“Because it was Sirius!”

‘now that one was just predictable.’

“Ho ho, are you challenging me, Friend?” Sun suddenly asks slyly. “Because I am very, very capable.” Uh oh.

You shouldn’t have said anything, because he spends the next half an hour “reading” from that joke book of his and bombarding you with pun after pun. Now I know better than to critique his jokes, you think miserably to yourself as you listen to another one about Jupiter. There can only be so many jokes about the universe and stars, surely.

You eventually have to draw the line as he reads to you a joke about aliens (“What do you do with a green alien? Wait for it to ripen!”). You’re not here to evaluate the quality of his jokes. ‘okay u win, u win. i won’t doubt ur joke abilities ever again.’

Sun harrumphs and closes the little book in his hands with a snap. He takes off his glasses and— well, you’re not sure what he does, but one minute both items are in his hands and the next they’re gone. Like a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it trick. “Thank you. I accept this win with utmost humility.” The way he smiles makes you doubt this, somehow.

“Alrighty!” He claps his hands together, his smile twitching slightly when his dialogue box appears a bit too close to his head. “Let’s do something else, shall we? How do you feel about”—he pauses for dramatic effect, then splays his arms out so he can do jazz hands—“Arts ‘n Crafts!”

It’s not like you’re going to refuse. ‘sure, sounds fun.’

“Wonderful!”

Like yesterday, he skips over to the side of your monitor to pull over the window of your Paint app and place it in the center of your screen once again. Seriously, how is he opening that? Then, he jumps up and perches himself on top of the window like he’s sitting upon it. His legs swing down, moving back and forth like they’re dangling off the edge of a precipice.

“Okay, Friend,” he starts as he reaches behind him and pulls out a little paintbrush. He spins it fluidly along his fingers and joints in a subtle display of dexterity. “For this activity, I will give you a prompt and you will be required to draw it! Simple and easy!”

A painting session? You can’t say you’re particularly good at drawing on your computer. You eye your mouse and cringe. Then, you hum and decide to tease him a little, just for the hell of it. ‘seems more arts than crafts to me.’

Sun waves his free hand as though to brush off your words. “Ah, semantics! We are creating either way, Friend!” He flips the utensil in his hand in the air and catches it smoothly. “Now! First prompt! Draw me something that encompasses happiness.”

What is this, philosophy? You hum thoughtfully, then use the pen tool to draw the first thing that comes to your mind: a smiley face. It is, admittedly, not your best one with how shaky your mouse is, but it gets your intentions across, you think.

Sun makes a sound like he’s clicking his tongue against his teeth—which is a bit of an eyebrow raiser given that he likely has no tongue nor teeth, but who are you to question his… features? “Is that all you’ve got, Friend?” he asks incredulously as his head tilts down to indicate he’s looking at your rather meager drawing.

‘what?’ you type, minutely offended. Is he judging you right now? He is totally judging you right now. ‘it satisfies your prompt, doesn’t it?’

“That is not the point!” he squawks out, and you wince at the shooting pitch of his voice. You nudge your volume down a little. “We are making art! Put a little oomf into it! A little personality! Show me your skills, Friend, and do not hold back!”

You roll your eyes up to your ceiling. So dramatic, but fine, you’ll adhere. You fiddle around with the drawing tool a little, then start drawing around your smiley face. A circle for a head, maybe some sunglasses. A rainbow that you spend way too long on, trying to make the arch of each color even. Some sparkles. A cat playing a saxophone—or your best attempt at one, at least. You’re kind of throwing things together at this point and hoping it’s enough to satisfy Sun—who’s starting to look more and more impatient the longer you take.

Finally, you finish. ‘okay, how about this?’

Sun claps his hands together and hops off the top of the window so he can stand before it properly and look at it like he’s a critic in an art museum. He ‘hms’ and ‘hahs’, tapping the bottom of his face with the paintbrush as he scrutinizes your drawing, looking at it every which way.

“Better, certainly better,” he muses and walks over to the other side of the window. “I can appreciate an effort when I see it.” You make a face at his words. Ouch? He spins back around to face you and gives you a thumbs up, eyes crinkling to crescents. “Wonderful job! A piece befitting a pin up to the refrigerator, I’m sure. On to the next prompt!” He snaps his fingers together, and the Paint application’s canvas clears. What? “Draw me something that encompasses sadness!”

You know now to be more detailed, at least. You doodle a sad face this time, accompanied by a variety of things you pull out from the top of your head. Sun criticizes your work when you finish, giving it that same appraisal as before. You feel like you’re in some sort of competition.

“Hm”—he eyes the rainclouds you’d drawn at the top of the canvas—“rather basic depictions, I’m afraid. Friend, have you tried varying the line weight of your pen tool? It might help!”

‘i’ll be sure to for the next one,’ you type in what you intend to be a dry manner, but you don’t think it translates all too well via text. As Sun grins approvingly at you, a sudden thought strikes you that you find yourself typing into that little window. ‘hey, why don’t u draw something since ur so… educated on it.’ Nitpicky, more like, but you don’t want to possibly offend him. ‘u seem like u’d enjoy it.’

“Me?” His eyes widen like he has not considered it. “You want…” His head cocks to the side. There is a moment where he just seems to look at you. Then, his eyes fall into a half-lidded, crinkled gaze that you have difficulty pinning alongside the stretching of his smile.

Everything is suddenly—quiet.

“You are,” he begins in a low voice that makes your eyebrows raise, “awfully strange, aren’t you, F-Friend?” A white facsimile of teeth flashes at you sharply that’s accompanied by a staticky glitch. “That’s okay! I like strange!”

And then—before you can truly decipher the depth to his smile or the offset pixels of the glitch—Sun beams at you, his rays spinning slightly. Like nothing had just happened. “I’ll make an artist out of you yet!” He claps his hands again, then wipes the canvas once more. He gestures to it. “Alright, for this next one, we are going to shift gears a little. Draw me a picture of your room!”

That is… definitely going into the submission form, you think. You hesitate for a moment, eyeing Sun as he sways side to side, but he… seems to be back to normal. It passed quickly—whatever ‘it’ was. No need to linger. You hope.

Your drawing is definitely a tad more rushed, but you think you do a pretty good job at capturing your room and its vibes—the decorations you have hung up, the comfy rug you impulse bought at a thrift store one day, and your bed swathed in your coziest blankets. You try varying your line weight, but you’re not sure how effective you are with it. Either way, Sun seems pleased with your attempts and praises one or two little details he notices, before he wipes the window clean.

“For the last drawing,” he says as he rocks back and forth on his heels. “I want you to draw a self portrait!”

You make a face. Drawing inanimate objects is one thing, but an actual portrait? ‘i dunno if i’m skilled enough to draw a good one.’

He waves a hand as though to brush off your words. “Nonsense! Give it your best shot. I would love to see how you view yourself!” He smiles up at you. “Show me what makes you you!”

You chew at your bottom lip and adjust your headphones as you ponder. What makes you you, huh? Should be simple enough, right?

And yet it takes you the longest of them all to draw a self portrait that satisfies you. Sun’s practically vibrating in place as he waits, humming a dainty little tune under his artificial breath that you do not recognize. You finish up with the design of your trusty set of headphones and do a final once over before you tell him you’re done.

“Took you long enough, Friend!” He huffs as he slips over to the Paint window to begin his analysis. He nods his head during his observations, humming in a low manner. “Interesting! Very interesting.” He skips over to the other side of the window to get a different perspective. “Wonderful use of the dotted line tool here! Oh yes, yes, yes! This truly makes me miss Arts ‘n Crafts so dearly.” Sun sighs—forlorn, almost—and presses on before you can really say anything. “I’d say with some more practice you’d be deserving of being hung up on the Wall of Creativity! As they say: Practice makes better!”

‘thanks?’ You’re not sure you particularly like these sort of backhanded compliments, but well, he’s not wrong, per se. You eye the wobbly lines made by your mouse.

“No problem! The Wall of Creativity is the most highest of honors, you see.” Sun twirls the paintbrush in one hand and snaps two fingers of his other to clear the canvas for the last time. He points the bristle end of the brush in your general direction. “Now, how about we play some games, hm?”

You’re kept busy for a while, playing games to Sun’s whims—or at least, the ones you can do with just the Paint tool and two players. He reminds you to take a break at one point, so you stretch and grab some food—all the while summarizing in your head what to jot down in the submission form at the end of today’s session. When you return, it’s nearing seven o’clock, and you brace yourself for the appearance of the Moon.

“Well, Friend, it appears our time together must come to an inevitable end,” Sun bemoans rather dramatically, resting his forearm across the top of his head like he’s about to faint Victorian-style. “Fret not, however!” He perks up and flashes you a grin. “For I will see you later!”

‘okay, drama queen,’ you type with a silly smile splayed across your lips. Instead of being offended, he seems to fall deeper into the role.

“Life is a stage,” he says gravely, “and I am but a simple actor upon it.” He sweeps into a low bow, then bounds back up to his feet with a flourish. His eyes widen suddenly—round like two large, white coins—and he gasps. He points at something over your shoulder. “Friend! What’s that behind you?!”

There is the smallest, smallest moment, where something in your stomach drops down to your feet. Your eyebrows raise and you turn around in your chair to look behind you. There is only the wide space of your living room, with your rumpled couch and inactive television. From here you can see the door to your bedroom is slightly ajar. You’re pretty sure you didn’t close it properly earlier. You blink confusedly at the normalcy of it all, then turn back around to ask Sun what the hell he’s talking about.

Only you’re not looking at Sun. You’re looking at Moon. Ohhh.

You were duped, like a fool.

Moon does not look pleased, standing next to the little window with your textbox. He scowls when you type your usual ‘hi moon’, and doesn’t bother to grace you with a reply this time. There’s something akin to frustration in his expression, but you cannot—for the life of you—decipher why.

You try again. ‘you don’t look too happy.’

He shoots you what you can only describe as a glowering look from under the band of his nightcap. His hands twitch minutely at his sides. You can almost say he looks… preoccupied with something? You’re not sure what. You’re also not sure how long he’ll elect to stay. Yesterday, you had mere minutes.

‘can u tell me a story?’ you try, only to deflate when his scowl deepens. ‘oh come on, i’m trying here!’

“Don’t bother,” he eventually grumbles out, the twitching evolving into short flexes of his fingers—clawed like he’s trying to grasp something just out of reach.

It’s your turn to frown, but you don’t push it. ‘sun told me ur better at storytelling.’

His head jerks slightly to the side in a way that’s unnatural—rotating like a vinyl record. His gaze narrows. “He did, did he?” It’s said in a growl, displeasure lining his voice.

‘yep.’ You hesitate for a second, juggling your options and his irateness in your mind. ‘so… story? please?’

Moon snaps. “Fine! You want a story so badly, I’ll give you one. Listen very closely.” The little window you use to communicate with them closes out. Your eyebrows raise, but you are immediately captured by the low drone of Moon’s voice and the daggered look he somehow manages to give you even through your computer screen.

“Once upon a time,” he begins bitterly, “there was a fox. It lived with another fox friend in a peaceful valley. It was happy, living day by day with those around it. The two had each other and that was enough.

“But one day, the valley shook and trembled with the force of a mudslide. The fox was separated from its friend and injured by a fallen branch that manifested itself in the form of a perpetual limp. It tried, desperately, to find its friend, but it was no use. The friend was gone. It had to move on.

“The fox traveled for days. It was slow, but it made progress. And eventually, it found itself in a field surrounded by tall, waving grass and giant deciduous trees. It made this field its new home.

“For a while, things were good. The fox made some new friends. But there was still that ache of loss. The fox wondered if its old friend was still maybe out there, somewhere. It wished on the stars and hoped its friend would find it, in this new home. Someday. Somehow.

“Its wishes were granted. One day, the fox woke up to a familiar sound. The sound belonged to its old friend—that had found it after so long. The fox was happy and bound forth to greet its old friend. But there was something different about the friend that the fox could not place. It did not matter, however, for they were reunited at last.

“The days went on. The fox had noticed that its friend was not the same as before, but the same could be said about itself. They tried their best to live together once more. It was difficult. There were ups and downs. Fights and quarrels. The friend was controlling and the fox did not like this. They were not as close as they were before and this distance lingered over them like a storm.”

Moon breaks off for a short moment to glare down at his slippered feet. You are stuck in a trance, breathing bated as you hang on to his every word like they’re a lifeline. He shakes his head slightly, then continues on.

“The seasons cycled by. The auburn vegetation of Fall transformed into the desolate white of Winter, then to the lush verdance of Spring. Before finally, it settled on the yellowed brittleness of Summer. It was a particularly cruel Summer, but the fox and its friend did what they needed to survive while avoiding each other.

“And then… on a particularly arid day… A fire broke out in the field. It spread rapidly. It had not rained in days, and this caused the vegetation to burst into flames faster than the fox and its friend could react. It surrounded both of them. They were trapped. Together, yes, but still trapped. They couldn’t even reconcile in their final moments.”

Moon looks up at you, his eyes reminiscent of a tenebrous sky pulling you in deeper and deeper and deeper.

“Do you know,” he whispers with all the gravitas and conquassation of an earthquake barely repressed, “what it feels like to b u r n?”

And then the program closes.

You are left to stare at your empty desktop, throat lined with cotton and heart racing like it’d been you trapped in that fire.

There is much to dissect, but you haven’t got an inkling of where to even begin. You fall into an uneasy slumber throughout the night and wake up feeling just as clueless. Moon’s expression and voice lingers over your shoulder like a spiteful ghost and you’re left to wonder how a computer program can have such a depth to it. You don’t want to contemplate it, fearing the exacerbation of this… sinking feeling in your stomach. So you don’t.

A bug, you tell yourself as you shuffle through your daily tasks. Maybe a feature FazCo’s still trying to iron out.

(You don’t mention anything else other than a ‘weird story’ and more glitching in the nightly submission form. You’re not sure how to even describe what you’d listened through.)

You eye your dormant computer while you prepare a light lunch in the form of a sandwich, your television playing the news in the background. Nothing too major, just the weather at the moment. It’s a good way to fill the room with some noise when you feel like catching up with what’s going on in the world around you.

You exhale heavily through your nose and set down a dirty knife into the sink to clean later. Something bumps into your ankle, and you glance down to see Dr. Nugget bumbling away from you into the living room, whirring all the while. Those sensors definitely don’t work as they should, poor thing.

No matter how much you want to delay, you have some work you need to get done on your computer. Not only in terms of testing the FazPals program. Your timesheets need to be updated again (much easier to do on your computer than your phone, you admit). There are applications you have to submit to other companies to join their beta testing teams and research you have to do to ensure you don’t completely run out of work anytime soon. One of the more tedious attributes of being a beta tester is the constant cycle of looking and applying for positions. Oftentimes, companies will sign you on to test other products of theirs, though, so it’s not all that bad.

With that in mind, you plop down in front of your computer with your food and power it on. Your headphones go around your neck for the time being. Typing your password with one hand and taking a bite of your sandwich with the other, you get to work pulling up your spreadsheets and the website you use for job hunting.

It’s menial work. You keep track of what companies you apply to with your spreadsheets. Most of them have the same application process and requirements. It’s easy to lose yourself in the repetitive clicking, reading, and typing. With the addition of your headphones blasting music in your ears, you go on autopilot pretty easily.

It’s while you’re making updates to your resume that you get startled, suddenly, by Sun.

“Friend! Hello!” He pops up out of nowhere and makes you promptly choke on the sip of water you’d been taking. Loud! You set aside your water bottle and cough roughly into your fist, eyes tearing up from the abruptness of it all. Your heart gives a harsh, indignant ba-dump. Oww.

Once you’ve collected yourself and paused your music, you take a moment to stare confusedly at Sun, swaying happily side to side in front of the window of your resume. He smiles up at you. How the hell—? You hadn’t clicked on the FazPals icon, had you? No, no, you’re sure you didn’t.

‘hi sun,’ you type slowly into the small window he had automatically opened for you when he appeared. You pause as his smile turns into a beam, then decide to ask him your burning question. ‘how r u active right now??’

“I got tired of waiting for you!” he replies, his rays bobbing in and out in a wave around his head. You wait to see if he’ll elaborate, but he doesn’t. Okay. Well. You make a note of that for later.

Sun makes a show of turning around and looking at your resume window. He can’t… read the data on it, right? Wait, no, he probably can if he was able to do it with your computer’s Paint app. You bite the inside of your lip. You’re not sure how you feel about that, but well, it’s not like FazCo doesn’t already have your resume. Just in case, you switch tabs back to your spreadsheet. Better, if marginally.

Sun hums, then turns back to look at you with those blank eyes of his. “What’re you up to, Friend?”

‘just applying to some jobs,’ you reply unsurely. Is this weird? This is weird, isn’t it. Upon pressing enter, Sun moves to look at the little window thoughtfully. And perhaps, with some inkling of annoyance? It’s difficult to tell, but it’s the same look he will sometimes give his dialogue box. One of his hands raises to tap at the bottom of his face. Contemplative. He returns his gaze to you and tilts his head.

“Hey, Friend,” he starts, completely bypassing your previous response, “I have an idea.”

You are wary, but you cannot deny the intrigue. ‘yes?’

His smile stretches at your encouragement. He clasps his hands together in front of him. “Just trust me!”

You squint at him—his blithesome demeanor—but you aren’t able to reply. The textbox window closes, and a different one appears in the center of your screen:

FazPals.exe is trying to access your microphone. Allow?

All your thoughts stutter to a complete stop.

Processing text is one thing, but audio input? You suppose it’s not anything innovative in this day and age, but you hadn’t been expecting it particularly for a program like this. You know the animatronics back at the pizzaplex were pretty advanced with this sort of thing, so it’s not… too unusual for FazCo, right? It’s probably something you need to evaluate, you sigh internally. This is fine.

FazCo, you think to yourself wryly. Enough said.

Apprehension still lining your movements, you click the ‘Allow’ button. The window disappears. Nothing really happens that you can see, but suddenly you are all too aware of the weight of your headphones sitting atop your head. You lick at your lips.

Sun continues his swaying as he waits—expectant. “Friend?” There is a smidge of hope in his voice.

“Yeah?” you respond, wincing at the crackle of your voice. That sip of water had really taken you out. You clear your throat. “Sorry. Yes?”

The beam he gives you is enough to vye against the, well, sun.

“Oh! Marvelous!” He practically leaps for joy, rays spinning up a storm as he wiggles in place. His eyes upturn into delighted crescents. “Simply marvelous! Friend, it is lovely to hear your voice! It has been so long since I’ve heard another.” Something creeps into his gaze that you… You’re not entirely sure you want to decipher it.

“Friend,” Sun begins in a low, nonchalant voice. “I have a request! A simple one, really.”

You raise an eyebrow. You are undoubtedly curious. “What is it?”

“Can you say my name for me?”

Oh. Weird, but okay. You comply, voice lifting at the end slightly. You are not nervous right now, thank you very much. “Sun.”

A glitch rides down the length of his body in a jittering wave—starting from the tips of his rays to the soles of his shoes. His gaze falls into a half-lidded look. “Perfect,” he breathes, so quiet you almost need to strain your ears to hear. “Utterly perfect.”

You blink at him, befuddled. The moment does not linger. He snaps back to his regular sway and bright-eyed expression. “So! You said you’re applying to jobs? What for?”

“Uh, yeah,” you say, slightly distracted and disoriented by the whiplash from this guy. Program. Whatever. Your fingers had automatically moved to type your reply in, lingering over your keyboard. This will take some getting used to. You move your hands to rest awkwardly on your lap so you can fiddle with your fingers. “I’m a beta tester so I’ve gotta keep applying for positions in companies.”

“Beta tester, huh?” Sun muses more to himself than anything. He seems to be deliberating something. “Hm. I see. For how long?”

You make a thoughtful sound. “Mm, for a while now. I can’t remember the exact timeframe. It’s enough to pay the bills, so I can’t complain.” You are ever so thankful that the ease in interacting with him transferred so neatly from texting to talking.

“Of course, of course!” Sun bows, then slides off to the right of your screen to nestle himself in the corner with the date and time. He tucks his hands behind his back. “Well! Don’t let me distract you! Carry on!”

“Right…” you trail off, uncertain. You eye him standing just out of the way of your work—enough that you can ignore him if you zone in on what’s directly in front of you. Well, FazCo did say their program is a “virtual desktop friend.” Hanging around your screen when you’re not immediately engaging with it seems like an attribute it should be able to do. You shrug to yourself and go back to editing your resume.

…It’s very quiet.

Oh wait, music! You forgot to start it up again. You mess around with the volume mixer on your computer so you can continue to play your music whilst also being able to properly hear Sun should he decide to start talking. That is, without bursting your eardrums. You lose yourself to the tunes, accompanied on occasion by the rhythmic tapping of your keyboard.

At one point you notice Sun changes the pacing of his swaying. And upon closer look, you realize he’s moving to the beat of the song booming through your headphones. His rays move like a volume meter, raising and lowering around his head in a circular formation depending on the strength of the audio.

“I like this song!” he says like he can sense your eyes on his pixelated form. “Never heard something like this before!”

“Really?” You adjust the volume mixer a little. Better.

“Yep! My music repertoire is rather lacking, I’m afraid.”

“You’re in luck, then,” you say eagerly as you pull up your music player and shuffle through a playlist you think he might like. “This is what I call The Greatest Hits of All Time.” You press play and grin when Sun does a little wiggle in excitement.

He’s content to sway in time with whichever song’s playing as you slowly finish up with your work for the day. You’re a bit surprised at how long he goes without really saying anything. But, of course, he eventually gets bored. Patience, you think, is not one of his core features. Or, well, he is patient to an extent. Something tells you he was not programmed to stay quiet for long periods of time.

In the corner of your eye, you notice he starts juggling. It’s small, at first. Just two red balls that he throws up and down and up and down, shuffling them to opposite hands all the while. Then it becomes three balls. Then four. Your gaze flicks to him from time to time, but you’re determined to get through just a couple more applications and then your timesheets before you call it quits.

You break when he hits eleven balls, his grin curling enticingly at the edges concomitantly. “Bored, are you?”

“Oh, immensely!” He throws up his hands in feigned distress and the plethora of balls come raining down upon him in a move befitting of a cartoon. They bonk him repeatedly on the head and bounce away on the top of your taskbar. You watch in amusement as one rolls across your screen and disappears past the left border. Sun is unperturbed. “Are ya done yet?”

“Not quite,” you say and he groans, tossing his head back. You roll your eyes in good nature.

“You can multitask, can’t you?” he presses, clasping his hands together in a plea. “Let’s chat!”

“Okay, okay,” you acquiesce. You’re sure he would keep pestering you otherwise. He cheers and immediately hops right into it.

“What do you like to do for fun? What’s your favorite food? Do you have any other friends? What about your family? Do you like g-glitter glue? What’s the highest education level you have? Do you have a favorite piece of media? What’s your deepest, darkest secret? What’s your opinion on Fizzy Faz? What’s your favorite animal—”

“Whoa, Sun! Slow down!” you yelp, mind spinning with all the rapidfire questions. The text in his dialogue box had been moving so quickly you hadn’t been able to make out a single word.

“Sorry!” he says, though he doesn’t quite sound all too apologetic. His eyes upturn. “I want to know aaalllll about you! How else will we be best friends?”

“By taking it easy,” you reply in what you hope is a meaningful manner. He at least has the decency to look abashed. You huff out a laugh, then do your best to remember what questions he’d asked. You’re already blanking on some. “Okay, well, uhh. I like to read and watch videos. I do have other friends and family, but I don’t live with them. Glitter glue is okay when it’s not literally everywhere. I don’t have any deepest, darkest secrets, sorry. Uhh—”

“Don’t forget about your favorite food!” Sun cuts across you, trying to be helpful, most likely. “And education level! And your favorite media!”

“Right, right…”

You’re not sure how long you spend answering his many, many questions (of which you’re sure he has an infinite amount), but it feels like ages. You have been thoroughly distracted, and you can’t even be incensed about it.

As the evening settles in with a hush and it gets closer and closer to seven o’clock, you find yourself thinking about Moon.

“Do you know what it feels like to b u r n?”

You suppress a shiver.

You take a moment to deliberate in your mind, then eye Sun. He’s busy prattling off his excitement over wanting to watch a movie with you. Gently, you interrupt him. “Hey, is it cool if I ask you a question?”

“Oh!” Sun looks at you wide-eyed, momentarily taken aback before he smiles encouragingly. “Of course, Friend! Ask away!”

“What’s the deal with Moon?”

If you hadn’t been already watching him, you wouldn’t have noticed. He freezes in place for a split second, then resumes his swaying so suddenly it’s almost like he’d forced himself to. Ever so minutely, the corner of his smile twitches. “Why ever would you ask me?”

“Well…” Your fingers tap idly along the surface of your desk. Shouldn’t he know since they’re part of the same software? You resist questioning him further. “He doesn’t seem like he wants to engage with me.”

Sun waves a hand in dismissal. “Ah! He’s being dramatic, probably! Moon is… Well! I will say he is rather….” His grin turns taut, like a wire about to snap. “...Difficult to get along with.” That tautness disappears with a bob of his rays, as though it had never been there in the first place. “Worry not, Friend! You still have little old me to talk to!”

“Yeah…” You’re confused. You thought dual programming with personalities such as Sun and Moon would make them mesh together pretty well. It’s difficult to tell with Sun. He’d made it seem like they both were on decent terms with previous transitions. You suppose not. Is it even possible for their A.I.s to interact with one another? You’re not sure how it works.

“Speaking of which,” Sun says as he makes a show of looking down at an invisible watch on his wrist. “It is time for me to go!” He sighs, faux sadness making him droop down like he’s a melting popsicle. “And after we’ve been having such a good time together.”

“Mmhm,” you agree, something akin to nerves crawling just under your skin with every second that ticks by. Why are you nervous? “I’ll see you tomorrow, buddy.”

He grins at you, flicking a hand in farewell. “I bid you”—a dark hole appears near his feet, and you watch as he steps over it with a wink—“adieeuuuuuuu!” He disappears, dropping into the hole with his voice getting fainter and fainter until it’s cut off by the hole popping to a close. Silly.

You let out a breath and look at the time. 7:00 P.M. Right on the dot. You shift in your seat and wait for Moon. You’re not sure what crawled up his digital ass and died, but you’re determined to at least get him to have a proper conversation with you. Not only for your job, you think, as you navigate to your email to open the submission form, but for camaraderie’s sake, as well.

“Camaraderie” with a program, you think to yourself dryly. What a world we live in.

7:03 P.M. and still no sign of Moon. This is fine. You can wait. You try not to waver.

…You call it quits when he doesn’t appear after another ten minutes. Disappointing, yet unsurprising. You should have expected it, really. You sigh and take off your headphones, leaning back in your chair. You rub at the side of your head. Your television drones on in the background with the news, still on after all this time.

Honestly, how are you supposed to evaluate him when he shows up and disappears in unpredictable intervals? It’s a conundrum, truly. Does that not go against his entire code? His purpose? You don’t know anymore. You roll your shoulders and decide to finish up your work from earlier.

Tomorrow, you think resolutely. Tomorrow you’ll try again.

part three

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upside-garden-of-dreams · 2 months

Text

Funny Coincidence? [Bang Chan x Reader]

Genre: fluff

Warnings: none at all ~

Geneal information: Reader is hinted to be female, but overall I kept them pretty gender neutral. Excuse any typos and mistakes, English isn't my native language

*looks at camera* Arien, this is for you ~🩷 Heavily inspired in a situation that happened irl with my friend and her reason to get that husky family Enjoy your read~ 🐺🖤

Christopher could not keep his eyes away from the pastel colored box, silliness coloring his smile and bubbling in his chest.

Their little beady eyes stared up at him in the cutest way, tiny fuzzy faces adding to their adorableness. Not to mention the minuscule clothes and accessories that only worsened the cute aggression felt in that moment.

Sylvanian Families - Husky Family

He couldn't control the giggles caught in his throat, letting them out into the air while kicking his legs from the emotion.

A mom dressed in a tiny pastel pink dress

A dad doning the smallest set of blue shirt and pants

And three adorable baby huskies swaddles in different pastel colored blankies

Your boyfriend remembers the stars in your eyes and the gasp that left you when you locked your gaze on that particular set of miniature animals weeks back.

How could he? That child-like joy looked beautiful on you!

Chris remembers how you clinged to his arm and dragged him into the toy store, begging and listing off the reasons why you "absolutely needed" that set.

You yolted with excitement when the shopkeep announced it was their last box of that particular set, growing anxious at the prospect of getting your hands over the husky family.

"If I may ask and know, what is so special of this set that you "must" have it?"

Words failed you and slipped off your tongue without any sense as a stuttered excuse was conjured by your brain, "Childhood pet! Yep, and it's a limited edition, too!" You held the small box close to your chest while making your way to the register, "C-C'mon, there's no way I'll let this opportinuty go... It's the last set!"

A heavy blush covered your cheeks, even tinting the tips of your ears, after his curiosity reached you.

You might think those small, fuzzy animals are the cutest ever, but your flushed face right then and there was his opinion on cutest ever.

So, that day you went home with new figurines to display on your desk and with the sweetest, biggest smile on your lips.

Later on, BangChan did his research and found out the husky family wasn't really a limited set, or at least that's what Calico Critter forums said. Needless to say, that curiosity from earlier resurfaced.

What was the real reason you were desperate to get them?

It wasn't until today that it dawned on him.

You had made plans to spend some time together at your apartment, watch some movies, play some games, and enjoy your favorite snacks.

Once his eyes landed on your desk, he matched two and two together.

You had run out the room to refill your drink. This left him all alone in your personal paradise, filled with trinkets and decorations that showed your unique and colorful self.

From soft PomPomPurin plushies to anime figurines and posters on your walls, with photo frames of you with your friends, family and boyfriend scattered here and there.

Your very own WolfChan plush stood right beside the husky family, with a polaroid of your 2nd anniversary date and one of his photocards situated in between your collectibles.

The spark went off in his brain

Huskies do look a lot like wolves, after all

"Is that supposed to be...us?" Chris mused to himself, a smile growing on his lips.

Love exploded in his chest, emotions running a mile a minute, leaving his brain completely melted at just how utterly adorable you were.

His heart skipped a beat, "So, does that mean... [Name] wants a family? With me?!"

That's how we end up with Chan kicking his legs in excitement as giggles erupt from his lips, face burried in one of your plushies to muffle the sound and hide his goofy fanboy smile.

At the sound of your footsteps approaching, he quickly stood up, rearranged Purin properly on your bed, and took deep breaths to calm down, appear as if nothing had happened.

As soon as you stepped in, his arms were around you, bringing you close to him, "Hey~"

Careful, not wanting to spill your drink, you hugged him back, "Hey there~ Missed me much?"

Chris shrugged, "Eh, kinda," As much as he wanted to appear nonchalant, the roll of his chuckle betrayed him.

While you knew him to be a cheery, funny guy, something about his demeanor felt off.

"What's up? Saw a funny tiktok or something?" You inquired.

He shook his head, "No, no, I just-... Just wondering~"

You took this as your queue to separate slightly and look up at him, taking the opportunity to set your glass down on a stable surface.

"Oh? Can I know about what, luv?" You asked.

More giggles came to the surface as he looked at you, carressing the small of your back with his thumb from where his arms remained loosely on your waist.

Confused, but with his excitement being contagious, a smile formed on your lips as you waited for his answer.

Pink dusted his cheeks, love and eagerness shining in his eyes, "Should we get started making the husky babies?"

You tilted your head slightly, not fully understanding his suggestive tone.

"Wha-OH!" You exclaimed once you followed his gaze to your desk, or rather, to the box containing your Calico Critters.

"Oh my god, Christopher!" That adorable blush from the day you acquired the set returned to your face, hands going up to cover your cheeks.

Laughter filled the air as the leader of Stray Kids brought you back to his chest, showing his teasing ment no harm or pressure, it was simply a silly joke. A joke to demonstrate he understood now the reason why you wanted that specific family of dogs.

All you could do was groan as more laughter spilled from him.

"It's okay, babe! If anything, I think that's quite cute, and I agree with your vision," He reassured, hand going up to pat your head.

At the mention of cute, you peeked up at him slightly, indirectly inquiring an explanation.

Christ pointed at the box, "It's us! It totally is us!" His glee was akin to that of a small child, "Well, us in a future, 'cus we agreed that kids aren't in the picture just yet."

You snorted silently, hitting his chest without force in your hand, "You dork."

He feighend offence, "Me?! You're the one who thought of us with that set! You're the bigger dork here!"

You resorted to further burrying your face into his chest with a small giggle, embarrassment dissipating.

Well, the "secret" was out, but at last he reacted the best way possible!

Even if you couldn't see, Chan smiled down at you and placed a kiss to the top of your head. "Really, it's very adorable. You don't know what you did to my heart."

You remained like that for a while longer, enjoying the close proximity and warmth of his embrace.

Slowly, you turned towards your decorated desk and reached for the Sylvanians. You held it our for both of you to look at closely.

"It's us."

"It really is us."

You looked at Chan and he looked at you, both sharing a sweet smile as he brought your foreheads together.

"You're so silly," he said.

"And you love silly old me~," you said with triumph.

"Yeah, I do," overwhelming love was evident in his voice.

It was only natural for your lips to find each other after, longing to demostrate the mutual adoration that gives life to your relationship.

[ END ]

Hehehehe 😈🤭💖 I personally really enjoyed writing this piece, since I wrote it with a target in mind, one of my dearest friends in life! Hope it was to your liking~! Fee freeto like, reblog, and comment~

#writing in dreams #idol imagines #stray kids #christopher bang #bang chan #stray kids x reader #bang chan x reader #christopher bang x reader #kpop imagines

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ganseyth · 10 months

Text

The Date

PREVIOUS PART | MASTERLIST | NEXT PART

Part: 12

Pairing: Jason Todd x Female Reader

Length: 1.8k

Warnings: none

_________________________________________________

Jason’s POV

Jason nearly dropped the vase he was carrying to the chapel.

He quickly glanced over his shoulder to make sure no one was watching before he zoomed in on the picture you had just sent him on his phone.

His heart jumped into his throat as he stared at your beautiful figure wrapped in his color.

Red.

The thought of you picking it out because of him left a warm feeling in his stomach and maybe even a sent spark of heat down below.

You looked gorgeous. The dress hugged you in all the right places and he couldn't wait to feel the satin fabric he was pretty sure would keep his hands occupied throughout the rest of the night.

However, his eyes lingered on your face. More specifically the smile that graced it.

He knew these past few days had not been the best and for that, he wished he could apologize. It was supposed to be his job to keep you happy but with everything going on it proved to be a harder task than he thought.

His job.

There were many times this week when he had to remind himself that you were his client.

A job to pay for the many bills that he had racked up from his time as Red Hood before he found a balance.

But then there was the way your eyes lit up with joy after he said something stupid or how you leaned into him the other night on the couch.

How you were quick to take care of him despite him supposed to be looking out for you.

How the sound of your voice would fill him with a warmth he'd never experienced before.

It took everything in him not to have you sit on his lap this morning at breakfast to make your ex crazy jealous and that kiss before you left this morning. That had been an excuse on his part to remind himself that you were his for the remainder of today and tomorrow.

He tried to remind himself that this was just temporary and that he already had clients booked for after New Year's. He tried to remind himself that after this you would return to a semi-normal life whereas he was expected to go back to his life as Red Hood.

It would never work between the two of you.

But then he saw your smile in that photo and that's when it got so much more difficult.

His resolve crumbled, and his heart swelled.

Somehow out of the hundreds of clients he had dealt with over the past few years, you were the only one to break his resolve. You had wormed your way into his heart and he had a feeling he had done the same to you.

And the truth is he didn’t want this to be over. No matter what happened over the next two days, he couldn’t imagine just walking away from you.

He swallowed, trying to push those thoughts aside before they caused him to do something rash.

"Jason!"

He snapped his head towards where your ex was now running up to him.

Your ex was smiling as he noticed Jason's phone in his hand. "Did she find a dress?"

Jason forced a smug grin onto his face, he was going to make the best of this opportunity. "Yep."

He didn't miss the look your ex gave you. "Can I see?"

If he could hit him without ruining your sister's wedding he would. "She wants to keep it a surprise," he found himself admitting, the smirk still resting on his face.

Your ex grinned back at him but he could tell it was forced. "Ah, no worries."

He patted Jason lightly on the shoulder before continuing his walk to the chapel carrying what looked like flowers for the vase Jason was currently carrying.

"Are you coming man?"

He really wanted to punch him. "Yeah."

"So how are things?" he asked as Jason closed the distance between the two of them. "Your relationship with her I mean."

Jason held in the urge to roll his eyes at him, "Everything's good."

He nodded, "Yeah, well I should tell you before things get too serious I mean..."

Jason sighed, "What?"

Your ex had the nerve to look concerned, "She seems to have a problem with intimacy."

The words made his blood run cold and if he wasn't mistaken, he had to be talking about the reason the two of you broke up.

"I don't need advice about my relationship," Jason growled through clenched teeth.

"I'm just saying!" Your ex cried out, holding his hands up defensively. "She freaked out on me when I said we should take our relationship to the next level."

Jason scoffed, "I don't think asking your girlfriend to perform in front of you and a hundred other guys at the club is what she had in mind for the next level", he said defensively, his grip around the vase tightening.

Your ex looked surprised and Jason could see the wheels turning as he put it together that you must have told him why you broke up. “I guess I can understand why she might have told you that but it wasn't like that."

Jason glared. "I can guarantee my girlfriend would not lie to me."

Your ex had the nerve to smile. "I know you think of her as your trusted innocent girlfriend Jason, but I wouldn't believe everything she's told you."

Jason was almost certain his expression darkened and he could feel your ex take the hint.

"But you know... it's not my relationship so..." your ex continued.

Jason shook his head, unable to hide his irritation. "Yeah, you're right. It's not your relationship so kindly piss off if that's all you want to talk about."

Your ex's smile faded. "Hey come on bro-"

However, Jason didn't stay around to hear whatever he was about to say next. With that, he started making his way to the chapel opening the large barn doors to reveal the beautiful ceremony hall.

The wedding planner had outdone herself, sparing no expense.

There was no way they would be able to hide this amount of money from Penguin. Jason swore right then and there that he would be keeping an eye on you even after your business transaction was completed.

Business transaction.

He wanted to gag at the thought.

You were more than that.

Hearing footsteps behind him he turned to see your mom approaching.

Your mom walked towards him, arms extended for the vase which Jason gladly handed over.

"Thank you so much for your help," she said softly, gently patting him on the arm. "Did my daughter happen to send you a picture of her dress yet?"

Jason smiled as he remembered the red dress from the photo and how you looked breathtaking wrapped in its silk.

"She's found the perfect one," he admitted, "I would show you a picture but I have a feeling she wants to surprise you."

Your mom let out a laugh, shaking her head fondly. "Oh, that girl. She's a sweetheart that one."

She smiled up at Jason which made him feel all warm inside. He never had a present mother figure in his life and in this moment he wished he did. Your mom was so nice to him despite only meeting him a few days ago and he could tell she meant a lot to you.

He chuckled. "You've certainly done a great job raising her."

Her eyes lit up with excitement. "Oh boy, you're going to make me blush!"

She laughed again. "Now I better get going so I can see my other sweetheart get married tonight."

He nodded and watched her turn around and start heading toward the middle of the chapel.

The ceremony was supposed to happen around five-o-clock followed by a small reception with the family afterward. Since it would just be the family plus your ex and Jason, the wedding was supposed to be quick.

That would be fine with him because it meant your new brother-in-law and sister would be leaving soon and your ex would take his leave tomorrow morning. Maybe you would find some comfort in being alone with just him and your parents. Maybe you could finally relax.

He hoped that was the case. For both of your sakes.

"Are we almost ready?" Your ex said as he made his way over to Jasons side once again.

Jason looked down at his phone to see the time, "Yeah the wedding is supposed to start in an hour and I believe we brought in the last of the decorations."

"Great," Your ex replied happily, clapping his hands together. "I guess we should all head back to the house to get ready then."

Thanks to the adoptive son of a billionaire persona Jason had adapted to over the years, he had brought a suit on the trip. He never knew when a client would expect him to attend something that demanded black-tie attire.

As everyone headed back towards the car and made their way to the house, Jason was notified that you and your sister would not join everyone until the ceremony started. Something about the groom not being able to see the bride in her wedding dress.

That was perfectly fine with him because your dress deserved to be seen in action as you were going to be the first one to walk down the aisle.

Then it hit him.

You weren't walking down alone.

How could he forget?

The maid of honor always walked down the aisle on the arm of the best man.

Who happened to be your ex.

The thought alone made him sick but he knew you could handle yourself and it would only be for a few minutes then you would take your separate leave on each side of the podium.

He could handle a few minutes.

Could he?

He felt himself begin to panic as he tried desperately to stop thinking about you.

You completely took over his mind and he found himself dreaming about your hands smoothing down his suit and straightening his tie before kissing him breathlessly.

He may or may not have added a little more cologne to his neck imagining your face tucked against it as the two of you slow danced.

He even styled his hair in a way that would still look great if you just so happened to run your fingers through it.

He had a crush on you.

No, the word crush was silly.

He liked you.

That thought alone left him quiet as your family made their way back to the chapel to start the ceremony.

_________________________________________________

once again please remind me if i forgot to tag you!!

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#jason todd x reader #dc jason todd #fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd #jason todd fanfic #jason todd imagine #dc titans #!thedatejason #dc red hood

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munstysmind · 4 months

Text

PEEL OFF - HENRY CAVILL

WARNING/S: nothing but fluff, a sprinkle of implied smut and a speck of pain, for like two seconds

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORK TO BE USED IN ANY CAPACITY

Divider by @firefly-graphics

MAIN MASTERLIST

please let me know if you would like to be added to a tag list

"Hen please" you beg, clutching the small squeeze tube in your hands "please, please, please, please, please... just this once, I promise"

He lets out an exaggerated sigh and looks at you as you pout and give him your best puppy dog eyes, puppy dog eyes you know he can never say no to.

"OK... ok, just this once" he says, biting back a laugh as you let out an excited squeak and bounce on the spot.

"Have I ever told you you're the best boyfriend ever?" you ask as you take his hand and and all but drag him upstairs into the master ensuite.

"Not today" he tells you while you struggle to climb onto the vanity.

He can't help but chuckle as you let out a small huff and look up at him with a pout before he grips your hips and lifts you, gently setting you on the cold marble surface.

"You are the best boyfriend ever" you say, a smile spreading across your face as you wrap your arms around his neck.

You've never been more confident about a statement in your entire life, he's the best man you've ever known. You'll never understand what he sees in you.

"I love you" he whispers, brushing the tip of his nose against yours.

"I love you too" you whisper back before pressing your lips to his.

He lets out a soft hum and pulls you closer, your legs resting either side of his as the kiss deepens.

"Stop distracting me" you mumble against his lips as he runs his hands up the back of his your shirt, his fingers giving you goosebumps as they brush against your spine.

"You kissed me" he reminds you, nipping at your lower lip before pulling away.

"And you're trying to get in my pants. I'm a lady Mr Cavill" you say, trying and failing to look offended at his actions.

"You weren't a lady last night" he says with a smirk. You bite back a whimper, your face heating up as the memory of what he did to you the night before flashes in your mind.

"Let's get this over with then" he sighs, already regretting agreeing to let you torture him with your newest beauty product.

"You act like I'm about to do surgery on you" you chuckle, pecking the tip of his nose.

"You could be. I've seen you do all this beauty stuff, some of it’s scary" he says, eyeing the mysterious product in her hand.

"You're a big boy, you'll be ok" you tell him with a grin before opening the tube and peeling off the safety seal.

"Is that glitter?" he asks, watching you squeeze out some of the contents onto your fingers.

"Yep" you say, popping the p as you start applying the sticky, glitter filled gel across his face, the tip of your tongue poking out of the side of your mouth as you concentrate.

You've been wanting to do this for months, it has to be perfect.

Once you're satisfied with your work, you spin around and tie the lions mane you call your hair up on the top of your head before applying the gel to your own face, making sure to avoid the fresh piercing on your nose.

You finally got it done after wanting it for well over a year and you’re in love with it, unlike your mother who had a meltdown and proceeded to lecture you about how you’d made the biggest mistake of your life the second she saw the tiny diamond stud.

Thank God she doesn’t know about your tattoo.

After one final check to make sure everything is evenly applied, you close the cap tightly on the tube and put it away in your skin care cabinet behind the mirror before leaning back against Henry’s chest.

“How long until I can take this pixie vomit off my face?” he asks in a deadly serious tone that makes you look at him in the mirror with a frown, questioning what you just heard.

“Pixie vomit?” you ask confused. What the hell is he on about?

“Yeah, looks like a pixie threw up on my face. That or a unicorn shat on me” he tells you with a nod, followed by a grin as you let out a snort.

“Oh my god, Hen” you gasp between your laughter. You’ll never get tired of how he makes you laugh. It’s one of your favourite things about him.

“You didn’t answer my question” he says, pouting dramatically.

“About twenty minutes, give or take” you tell him, pressing a quick kiss to his pout.

“Peaky Blinders?” he asks as he lifts you off the counter and sets you down.

You don’t know why it’s taken you so long to watch it, but you’re hooked. Both of you are.

“Always” you reply, looking up at him with a cheeky grin as you slip off his your tee to reveal your new lingerie piece before walking into your shared master bedroom.

He quickly follows you, hugging you from behind and pulling you flush against his chest.

“You little minx” he whispers in your ear before pressing a few kisses down the side of your neck, making you whimper quietly as you tilt your head to the side.

“You don’t like it? That’s a shame, it was rather pricy. I guess I can return it” you say with a pout, feigning disappointment.

“I didn’t say that!” he blurts out, almost choking on air. You have to bite your lip hard to keep yourself from laughing. He’s so adorable when he’s flustered.

“So, you do like it?” you ask, grinning at him.

“I fucking love it. But I think it’ll look better on the floor though. Much, much better” he says with a smirk before taking your hand and guiding you to do a spin, showing off the lacy emerald green teddy that hugs ever curve of your body perfectly.

You let out a squeal when his hand connects with your bare ass, stinging and turning red as the sound of skin on skin rings in your ears.

“Excuse you, hands you yourself Mr Cavill” you playfully scold, slapping his hand away from you.

He just smirks at you, at least you think it’s a smirk, he can’t really move his face with the mask starting to dry.

“Come on, we’ve got some Birmingham gangsters to watch” he says before getting on the bed and crawling over to his side.

You take the opportunity while he’s in the compromising position to get some payback and slap his ass, hard.

He lets out a yelp and quickly sits on his ass before glaring at you while you let out an evil laugh.

“What’s wrong, Bear?” you ask innocently, biting back a smirk as you climb onto the bed next to him.

“Nothing” he mumbles, making you chuckle quietly as he clears his throat and turns his attention to the TV.

You snuggle into his side as he starts up Netflix, letting out a content hum when he puts his arm around your shoulder and pulls you closer.

You’ll take this, cuddling on the bed and watching TV with your man while your face mask dries, over partying every single day.

Two episodes later and you’ve both forgotten about the glitter filled pixie unicorn concoction that’s well and truly dried on your faces as you watch Tommy offer to flip a coin with Aberama Gold.

GENERAL TAGLIST: @aussieez @rookiemartin @babeyyemor @secretaryunpaid @pixie88 @chickensarentcheap @dhoruwolfie @themaradwrites @cali-nyc5 @darsynia @birminghamshelbyboys @wewannasaygoodnight @sweetbunnyliddle @kingliam2019 @sillyrabbit81 @angelcavill66 @mis-lil-red @rcarbo1 @secretdream2 @livesinfantasyland @identity2212 @fanfics-r-us-official @km-ffluv @ktficworld @juliaorplI78 @henry-cavs-tudor @red-write-hand @ladyzee27

#munstysmind #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavil x reader

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bwabys-scenarios · 10 months

Text

Reunited

Part 33

Illumi x Reader x Feitan(AND KURAPIKA??!!)

part 32

part 34

warnings: Kurapika cops a feel and is mad horny for reader 😭🙏

taglist: @tsukilover11 @mercyboluthecrazychicken @sxyriii @shidoni-san @living4tomrua @lemonslut @honeylunalove @sugarrushdaydream @canthebest1 @whorermoviestar @fabitheraven @ashdownunderscorebeloved @astresoleil @ranzxki @smuttysammie22 @yandere-enthusiast @lostsomewhereinthegarden

if you’d like to be ADDED to the taglist, please comment a red heart ❤️, make sure you’re able to be tagged/mentioned, and have your age in your bio(IF YOU ARE ALREADY ON THE TAGLIST, YOU DON’T NEED TO ASK TO BE ADDED AGAIN!!)

(Name) woke up to a few new messages on her phone.

Killua: Hey, we’re meeting up with Kurapika today, you want to tag along? We’re having a picnic.

Gon: (Name) can you bring some snacks? Killua is too shy to ask!

Pretty Boy🫶: Meet us at the park for a picnic.

(Name) giggled. ‘They’re all so cute.” She texted them all back quickly.

Strawberries: Yes, I’ll see you there!

She stood up and stretched. There was about an hour until they’d have to to meet up, meaning she had plenty of time to pack up a basket of goodies.

(Name) looked over her closet to find something suitable to wear. It was a picnic, so her choice was easy.

She pulled on a long blue sundress, pulling it over her head. She spun around in front of the mirror, smiling at her appearance. It hugged her curves just right.

She paired her look with a straw hat and a white cardigan with a yellow daisy pattern.

Once her basket was full of goodies, (Name) left her condo and began her walk to the park.

——————

She spotted Gon and Killua quickly once she entered the park.

“Hey!”

(Name) jogged over, holding her heavy basket with both hands. Killua jumped up quickly, his eyes lighting up.

“(Name), you’re-“

He cleared his throat. “You’re here. That’s nice.”

She giggled and ruffled his hair, the boy leaning into her touch with a huff. “I’m happy to see you too, Killua.

Gon jumped up and gave her a hug. “Do I smell baked goods?”

(Name) nodded, cracking her basket open to let the smell of fresh pastries fill the air. “Yep!”

She laid out a picnic blanket before setting out the treats, Gon and Killua adding the several different foods they’d brought as well.

“Go head boys, dig in.”

They didn’t need to be told twice, instantly stuffing their faces with the various foods available on the picnic blanket.

(Name) couldn’t help but laugh. It was nice to see them be so carefree and innocent after the harrowing past few days.

“Kurapika!”

Gon spat his food into Killua’s face and jumped up to run towards the blonde. It took (Name) a moment to process this information, the girl standing slowly before finally turning around.

Gon and him talked for a moment before the young boy had a pie shoved in his face by Killua. Kurapika laughed as the two chased each other around the park.

Then his eyes landed on (Name).

His heart skipped a beat at the sight of her. She looked gorgeous in the afternoon sun, smiling at him with tears brimming on her eyes.

“Kurapika…”

He didn’t think, just walked forward with his eyes trained on her. Before either of them could process what was happening, he was pulling her close to him and pressing his lips to hers.

The two boys froze, staring at the pair.

(Name)’s eyes went wide with shock. Kurapika pulled away after a moment, looking down at her with those scarlet eyes.

“(Name), I…”

He finally processed what he had done, his face as red as his eyes. He began to back away, but (Name) pulled him back into a hug.

She didn’t speak, only holding onto him. He melted into her embrace.

When she pulled back, she didn’t look angry or upset, just… surprised. Her face had grown hot.

“Kurapika, that was… my first kiss.”

She buried her face in his chest, flustered. He raised his hand to run his hand over her hair. “My apologies for stealing your first kiss, (Name). I just… couldn’t control myself.”

He pushed her back and tilted her chin up, stealing another kiss.

Gon and Killua audibly gasped, looking to each other the running over to the pair.

Kurapika pulled away with a soft look in his eyes, licking his lips. “You taste so sweet, (Name). I think I want to kiss you aga-“

Gon and Killua tackled the man, sending him falling to the grass.

“Kurapika you pervert!” Killua yelled, bonking him on the head. Gon jumped up quickly to push (Name) away.

“You don’t kiss women randomly! What if she was saving that kiss for someone!? Aunt Mito said first kisses are important to girls!”

(Name) sighed and swatted at Gon’s hands. “Boys it’s fine, I didn’t mind at all.”

She offered Kurapika her hand, which he took without a second thought. (Name) pulled him to his feet, the man instantly reaching out and kissing her again.

This time it lasted longer, his hands slipping to her waist to pull her in closer. She felt his tongue press against her lips before she pushed him back.

“K-Kurapika… that’s enough for now…”

‘For now…’ he thought, staring down at her with half lidded eyes. Now that he thought the spiders were dead, he much better about his feelings for her. He’d find his clans eyes, and ask her to be his.

“I think I love you…”

(Name)’s jaw dropped at his words, shyly hiding behind Killua. It wasn’t that she didn’t have any feelings for him, but such a sweet confession after he’d kissed her so lovingly was making her brain short circuit.

“You’re going to make her pass out. Look, she’s flustered.” Killua said with a huff.

Kurapika couldn’t help but smile. She wasn’t rejecting his advances, and just from her face he could tell she wasn’t unhappy that he kissed her.

“Alright. Let’s enjoy our picnic, shall we?”

Kurapika watched her the entire time, sighing softly when she avoided his gaze. ‘She’s so cute. I want to kiss her again… and more.’

His cheeks went red when he thought this, quickly shaking the thought from his mind. He couldn’t think of that, no, not right now.

Once they finished their picnic, Kurapika helped (Name) pack up her basket and carried it for her. It was the least he could do.

——————

The group of five met up at at a hotel, all of them beaming at each other.

“It’s been a while since we were all together last!” Gon stated, his smile wide.

“Yeah!”

Leorio ruffled (Name)’s hair, the girl playfully smacking his hand away.

The group began walking towards the elevators, Leorio and Gon talking about someone named Zepile. Leorio turned to look at Kurapika.

“Anyway… you’ve got this intensity about you… you seem more intimidating now.”

The blonde tilted his head. “Really? You don’t seem to have changed much.”

“And now you’re more annoying too!!”

“He also confessed his love for (Name) and kissed her like 50 times.” Killua said, holding onto (Name)‘s sleeve.

“HE WHAT!?”

(Name) groaned, hiding her face in her hands. Kurapika didn’t seem embarrassed at all, putting a hand on (Name)’s shoulder. “I kissed her, not 50 times, but more than once.”

Leorio and Kurapika stared at each other for a moment.

“And you keep calling ME the pervert- OW!”

Kurapika hit him over the head as they entered the elevator.

“Oh, I heard you defeated a member of the Troupe.”

(Name) stopped paying attention now, quickly pulling a pair of headphones over her ears. It was all so overstimulating. She could still feel the soft touch of Kurapika’s lips on hers.

They quickly reached their destination, (Name) not noticing until she was physically pulled out of the elevator by Kurapika.

They entered the hotel room, quickly seeing that there wouldn’t be enough seats for everyone.

“I’ll stand, it’s no big-“

She was quickly pulled into Kurapika’s lap without another word, earning the blonde some looks from their friends.

“No need for that. You can sit here.”

Unlike Feitan, he was quick to pull her close and wrap his hands around her waist without hesitation. Kurapika was making his feelings extremely clear to her.

He began to explain his nen and the reason it was so strong.

“Restraint and vow?” Gon asked.

“Yes. Nen is strongly affected by your mental state. The stronger your resolve, the more power you receive. However, you also incur a big risk at the same time. In return for Nen power, I vowed to use it against the spiders alone. I established a rule for myself.”

“What’s the rule?” Leorio asked.

“If I use my chains on one who isn’t a spider, I will forfeit my life.”

(Name) hand shot to his arm, her eyes gone wide. “You what? Kurapika…”

The blonde rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. “There is a nen blade pointed at my heart. If I break the rule, that blade will pierce my heart, killing me. This is the rule that shows my resolve. Restraint and vow. My power is the product of pure hatred. It only works on the spiders.”

(Name) stared at him with tears in her eyes, not even able to speak. He gently wiped them away as he continued talking. “I’m telling you because I trust you. Don’t tell anyone else.”

Killua stood up. “Why… why would you tell us something so important?!”

Kurapika tilted his head, surprised. “I’m not sure. Wit their leader’s death, I must have relaxed.”

“It’ll be fine if we keep our mouths shut.” Leorio said, trying to calm the white haired boy down.

“It’s too dangerous. One of the surviving members can read minds. If they find out, Kurapika won’t be able to beat them!”

“But she didn’t learn anything last time.”

“That’s because we didn’t know Kurapika was the chain user.”

(Name)’s lip quivered, Kurapika rubbing soothing circles into her back.

“Then we just have to stay away from them. They’ve already checked you, so they think you’re clean.”

“But there’s also this guy called Nobunaga.”

(Name) eyes went wide. ‘Did he just say Nobunaga? Are they talking about…’

“He’s especially dangerous, he’s looking for Kurapika and still trying to chase us down.”

(Name) felt Kurapika tense under her, his hands gripping onto her hips harshly.

“Is he aware that you guys know Kurapika?”

“No…”

“Then it’s okay! As long as no one around the mind reader knows Kurapika, you’re safe.”

Kurapika glanced down at (Name) before speaking. “Well, I’ve also been in contact with Hisoka, and so has (Name).”

“What?”

“Hisoka?”

“He knows that I am the chain user. We made a pact, but his target, the leader of the spiders, is now dead. So I don’t know what he’ll do.”

The five continued to speak as rain started to pour down outside. Killua had been trying to convince Kurapika to go after the remaining members while they were still in York New.

“Excuse me.”

(Name) stood up to walk to the bathroom, Kurapika watching as she left with lovesick eyes. Once she was gone, Kurapika seemed to consider Killua’s words.

“They could be making an escape as we speak. We don’t have time for too much thought.”

“The woman you mentioned is certainly a threat… But since their leader is dead, I’ll do we Gon says, and focus on recovering my brethren’s eyes.”

“Seriously!?”

“Yes. I would also like to begin courting (Name). I think I’ve fallen in love with her.”

“Are you sure?”

“Kurapika’s made up his mind. We can’t force him to change it.”

Killua sat down, defeated.

“Sorry, Killua. Thank you for the valuable information.”

His phone buzzed in his pocket. Kurapika didn’t really care too much about who had texted him, he was still on cloud 9 after confessing earlier.

He pulled his phone from his pocket and glanced at the message.

“It’s from Hisoka…”

(Name) came sprinting into the room when she felt Kurapika’s aura go from calm to intense anger.

“The bodies were fakes…”

She attempted to comfort him with a hand on his shoulder, the man glancing her way before pushing her hand off.

(Name) didn’t take offense, running towards the kitchen to grab him a glass of water to calm down.

When she came back, Kurapika was a bit calmer.

“The troupe is from Meteor City…”

(Name) paused in the doorway, dropping the cup at the mention of the city.

“(Name)!”

Kurapika stood and walked over, wincing as she began to pick up the shattered glass.

“(Name), stop.”

He smacked her hands away, pulling her now cut hands towards away and towards Leorio.

“She’s cut. Leorio can you-“

(Name) didn’t say anything, only closing her hands then opening them, the only hint that she’d been hurt was the blood staining her palms.

The two stared down at her with shocked expressions.

“How-“

She sighed. “It’s my nen. I’m a healer.”

Kurapika sat down with her in his lap again, his knee bouncing. “I… I am also from Meteor City.”

The four didn’t so much as breathe with her admission, Kurapika staring at her with wide eyes. “You’re… from Meteor City? But you grew up in Padokea, right?”

(Name) sighed. “It’s… it’s a long story that shouldn’t be shared in front of children.”

The two boys were shooed out of the room and (Name) hesitantly shared her tale. It was easier to tell them, due to how close they all were, but it still left her feeling awful.

Kurapika’s eyes were red, pulling (Name) against him so tight she could barely breathe. He shook with anger, Leorio gritting his teeth.

“(Name).”

He tilted her chin to look up at him, his eyes boring into hers intensely.

“The monsters that hurt you will be dealt with by my own hands. I will not rest until you are avenged.”

His intensity would have been terrifying to most, but (Name) felt safe in his arms. Kurapika let her cry against his chest, rubbing a trembling hand over her head.

Kurapika considered it his duty to avenge the woman he loved. She had given him so much, it was only fair he took this heavy burden off her shoulders.

The two boys walked in, Killua quickly joining (Name)’s side and hugging her. He was crying too, not bothering to hide his anguish.

“We… we heard everything.” Gon said, looking at the floor. “I’m sorry (Name). That… that was awful.”

She cried, Kurapika holding rubbing circles into her hips. Even through her pain, she dried Killua’s tears and gave him a soft smile.

“I didn’t want any of you to know. It’s… it’s scary. Disgusting. I didn’t want any of you to think differently of me…”

Kurapika held her even closer. “You have nothing to be ashamed of, (Name). Nothing that happened to you was your fault. You are still the woman I love, nothing has changed.”

He caressed her cheek, internally seething. He needed to be calm, now. (Name) needed his comfort, and he was more than willing to give in to her.

She left to go calm down in one of the bedrooms, putting a pair of headphones over her ears as the group talked in the living room. Kurapika promised he wouldn’t take long, and would hold her as long as she wanted when he was done speaking with the group.

———————

Kurapika opened the door to the room, his eyes softening when he spot (Name) curled up on the bed. She hadn’t heard him come in due to her headphones.

He walked forward and placed a hand on her’s.

“(Name)? Can you hear me?”

She pulled her headphones off when he touched her. “Hmm?”

He sat down on the bed next to her. “We’re going to be moving around a bit. I have to go talk to the community to see if they have any useful information.”

She perked up, moving to sit next to him. “So you’ll be busy?”

He smiled. “Not for a bit. I’ll be leaving to ask in thirty minutes. And after that, I may be free for a while more.”

(Name) nodded. “I see. I feel like I’ve barely gotten to see you today. It’s only 1 pm, and we met at 12 pm.”

He sighed. “Yes, I apologize for that. Once the auction is over and we’ve completed whatever plan we set, I should have some time to spend with you.”

“Don’t you mean with all of us?”

He shook his head and smiled down at her. “No, (Name). I want to spend more time with you. Longer than the others.”

She thought back to his confession and her face became warm. “I… I want to spend more time with you as well.”

He lied down on the bed, pulling her down with him. “(Name), do you love me? I apologize for asking you so frankly, and you don’t have to answer if you’re uncomfortable, but-“

She put a finger to his lips. “I do feel… something for you. As a friend, yes I do love you. Dearly. I do feel something more for you than friendship, but…”

He shook his head. “That’s all I needed to hear. Knowing you feel more for me than friendship makes me incredibly happy.”

His lips pressed against hers again, this time, (Name) allowed his tongue to explore her mouth. It was hard to think when he was slowly moving to pin her to the bed, his hands fumbling with her cardigan. He slipped it off and began pulling her sundress down.

“(Name), I want you. Desperately…”

She gasped, her hands flying out to stop his hands. “K-Kurapika! Not… not right now.”

He stopped, his breath coming out in short pants. She looked gorgeous underneath him, her face hot and her breasts nearly spilling out of her dress. He quickly regained his composure and looked away as she fixed her dress.

“Does that imply that I can have you later?”

He ran a finger down her side, stopping when he felt her shiver. Kurapika was enjoying her reactions to his touch.

“… perhaps. If you don’t get yourself killed.”

He chuckled at her words and kissed the top of her head. “I’ll keep that in mind, angel.”

She jumped at the pet name, looking up at him with her pretty (e/c) eyes.

“A-angel?”

He smiled. “When I had that nightmare and you comforted me at the expense of your sleep, you reminded me of an angel. Kind and pure.”

Kurapika caressed her cheek. “I want to preserve that purity, but the dark part of me also wants to taint you, dirty you with my own hands.”

He stared down at her with those scarlet eyes she had come to love. “Would you still love me after taking your wings, angel?”

Before she could answer, he placed a hand over her mouth. “Shh. Don’t answer. Save it for later, when I make you mine.”

The two sat in silence for a while, Kurapika soaking in every second of skin to skin contact with (Name). She was his light, the moon that guided him through the darkness.

“Kurapika, can I… can I kiss you?”

He blinked and looked down at her, his eyes softening. “Please do.”

She placed a hand on his cheek and stood. He was still sat down on the bed, looking at her with lovesick eyes. She stopped forward and stood between his legs.

(Name) leaned forward and placed a sweet kiss on his lips, the man instantly wrapping his arms around his waist to pull her closer. Her kiss was gentle and sweet, one that Kurapika would never forget as long as he lived.

When she pulled away, her eyes were half lidded. “Can you promise me something?”

He placed a hand on her cheek. “Anything.”

“Please… please promise me you’ll be careful. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you. You’re one of the most important people in my life, Kurapika.”

He contemplated pulling her in for another kiss, his eyes on her lips. “I promise. I’ll come back to you alive, alright?”

She nodded and pulled him into a hug, his head resting on her soft chest. “Please do.”

———————

(Name) left the room feeling confused and aroused.

‘Kurapika and I almost…’

She bit her lip as she followed Leorio and Kurapika to the elector. (Name) did feel something for Kurapika, yes, but there were two other men that were on her mind as well.

Feitan and Illumi.

The two of them were her close friends, and she had slowly developed feelings for them both. Unlike Kurapika, neither of them had explicitly returned those feelings.

She didn’t want to choose between any of them, not for a while. For now, she would follow Kurapika and give him the care and attention he needed as he attempted to avenge his clan.

Leorio and (Name) sat as Kurapika left to talk with the committee, the dark haired man looking at her curiously.

“So… you and Kurapika, huh?”

The girl became flustered immediately. “Kurapika and I, what?”

“You’re like… together now, right?”

She shook her head, twiddling her thumbs. “Not… not yet. I still have some thinking to do.”

He sighed. “Thought so. He sprung all of that on you pretty fast, and now he can’t keep his hands off of you. It must be confusing.”

She nodded, leaning her head against the table. “Yes but… I don’t dislike it. Kurapika is very sweet.”

Leorio ruffled her hair. “You two would make a cute couple, but be aware that he’s determined to finish his goals, at whatever cost. That cost may be you one day.”

She knew this, it was one of the reasons she was hesitant to accept his feelings. She knew he was telling the truth and truly did love her, but…

“Oh, how did it go?”

(Name) looked up when she heard Leorio’s voice, turning to see Kurapika approaching.

“I couldn’t get a straight answer. The community didn’t have any updates regarding the auction today.”

He smiled when (Name) stood next to him, reaching out to hold her hand.

“You should tell the the Troupe is still alive! Then the Mafia might rethink it.”

The blonde shook his head. “No, nothing will change. The community values its relationship with Meteor City. It’s safe to assume they will not attack the Troupe further.”

“Really?”

“But that wasn’t the information I wanted. My only concern is whether the auction will proceed as scheduled…”

“You’re not planning to intercept them, are you? That’s crazy… how can you confront them without mafia support!?”

“You have it wrong, Leorio. I never had any help from the mafia.”

(Name) squeezed his hand, giving him a concerned look. He didn’t look at her, but gave her hand a reassuring squeeze back. His attention was drawn away by Gon.

“Kurapika, let us help! We’re willing to do anything.”

The blonde frowned. “The reward was rescinded.”

“I know. I want to stop the Troupe, that hasn’t changed.”

Kurapika gave Gon his full attention, dropping (Name)‘s hand. “You’d be risking your lives.”

(Name) wanted to say something, but Kurapika continued talking.

“Okay, let’s put together a plan.”

“Uh-huh!”

She huffed. “I want to help t-“

“No.” They all said in unison. (Name) blinked, suddenly upset.

“Why not? If you all get to risk your lives for each other, why can’t I?”

Kurapika sighed. “You’re different, (Name). Your nen is purely support, so it wouldn’t be very helpful in th-“

“Leorio doesn’t even have nen, so that excuse won’t work on me.”

She put her hands on her hips and stared at him, her lips pursed. Even though his eye twitched in annoyance, he couldn’t help but find her determination adorable.

“Well, can you drive?”

She stared at him. “… no.”

Gon tilted his head. “Aren’t you 22?”

She groaned. “God you sound like my mom. I can’t get a license because I’m from Meteor City, and Im scared of driving.”

Kurapika placed a hand on her shoulder. “(Name), what do you bring to the table?”

She pulled out her dagger and was about to stab it into her arm to demonstrate her nen, but Kurapika was quick to grab it. She didn’t notice his eyes flash red for a moment before he quickly composed himself.

“Other than your nen ability, angel.”

The other three glanced at each other when he called her angel, (Name) huffing.

“I was trained by Illumi in martial arts. Anyone want to spar with me to prove a point? Or do I need to ask my friend to send the pictures of me handing Hisoka his pasty clown ass?”

“You fought Hisoka? And lived? Are you stupid?”

Killua pinched her cheek harshly, the girl whining. “Hey, he only broke a-“

She stopped suddenly, all their heads swiveling to stare at her.

“He what?”

Kurapika grabbed her chin and forced her to make eye contact with him. “What details did you leave out, (Name)?”

She puffed out her cheeks. “I don’t have to tel you. It’ll only stress you out.”

He smacked a hand over his forehead. “I’ll be stressed out nonetheless, angel. Just tell me and I promise I won’t be angry.”

(Name) glanced at Leorio, who just shrugged.

“He uh… broke my bones and um…”

She leaned forward to whisper into Kurapika’s ear. “He insinuated he wanted to… do things to me, and tried to take off my bra.”

Kurapika’s arms shot out to grip her shoulders so tight she winced. “He WHAT!?”

“You promised you wouldn’t be angry!”

“That’s before I knew the borderline pedophile clown threatened to assault you!”

Killua’s jaw dropped. “(Name). Why didn’t you tell us?”

She folded her arms against her chest. “I didn’t think it was that important. He didn’t do it.”

Her four friends groaned in unison.

“(Name), my angel, that is very serious. If I had known I wouldn’t have formed a pack with him.”

He rubbed a hand against his forehead. “This is another reason I don’t want you coming. I fear you may put yourself in harms way, and not even ask for help. It’s not guaranteed that one of us would be around to save you.”

She folded her arms over her chest. “That’s unfair. You’re assuming a lot.”

He sighed. “I have to. Any possibility of you getting hurt means a resounding no from me.”

She pouted up at him, the man not budging a bit.

“… fine. But at least let me stick around until you have to enact your plan…”

Kurapika shrugged. “I don’t see any issue with that.”

(Name) sat with the other four, pouting. As a precaution, (Name) had been asked to wear her headphones as they made their plans. It wasn’t that they didn’t trust her, they just couldn’t guarantee that their enemies would come after her.

If only they knew that their enemies viewed (Name) as one of their own.

Eventually Leorio and Killua stood up and started to walk away. (Name) took her headphones off, confused. “Why did they leave?”

Kurapika didn’t answer, only sliding her headphones back over her ears.

As an act of rebellion, (Name) turned her music off.

Kurapika began to explain his nen, summoning the chains on his hand. (Name) pretended to act oblivious.

“I’m not sure what all of that means, but you should be able to use your nen blade on me, right?”

“Yes.”

Gon nodded. “Go ahead. You can choose the rule to set.”

“I accept your resolve.”

(Name) threw off her headphones as Leorio and Killua appeared behind Kurapika.

“Can you make three of those blades?” Killua asked.

“Make it four.” (Name) corrected.

“You can rescind the rule once our mission is over, right?”

“Killua, (Name), Leorio!”

Kurapika pinched the girl’s cheek as Leorio continued speaking. “We had a little talk. And since we’re working together…”

“We should share the same fate.”

“What do you say?”

Kurapika sighed. “The answer to both questions is yes. But you four are wholly mistaken. I never had any intention of using my blades on any of you.”

“Then why endanger yourself by telling us your secret?”

“Gon, I wanted… No, I wanted to thank all of you for your resolve. Even if one of you ends up revealing my secret, I will have no regrets.”

He smiled, looking down. “I have good friends.”

“That’s not fair, Kurapika. You’re actually putting more pressure on us this way.”

“That was my goal.” He said with a smile.

“Oh, I get it now!” Gon laughed.

(Name) leaned her head against Kurapika, pouting.

“Well, I’ll head out then. Can’t waste any time.”

Both (Name) and Gon waved as he walked away. “Killua, be careful!”

“Yeah, I got this.”

—————

With the little time they had, (Name) and Kurapika sat across each other at the table in his room. He snacked on some of the baked goods she’s brought to the picnic.

“They’re good, (Name). How did you bake so many in such a short amount of time?”

She bit into a cookie. “Oh, I made these last night. I bake when I’m nervous.”

He frowned, placing his fork down. “Nervous? Why?”

“…”

(Name) took another bite of her cookie before answering.

“Well… I told you about the friend I was supposed to meet her, yes?”

Kurapika nodded slowly. “… the grumpy one?”

“Yes. He had some work here so he’s in town. He’s a part of a…”

She tilted her head. “I guess you could say they’re a group of… friends? Some of them also hail from Meteor City, so when I explained a bit of my story… they wanted to know more. People from Meteor City care for each other, even if it doesn’t seem like it.”

He nodded, signaling her to continue.

“The people that hurt me could still be active, so they asked me for any information I could give. To do that, they… had to learn about all the things I told you. My friend wasn’t there, so my biggest shame was revealed to a bunch of strangers. Of course, I agreed to it, but it doesn’t change the fact it was traumatizing to relive that.”

He gently squeezed her hand. “I see. That’s why you were nervous?”

She shook her head. “Not entirely. I… I had no one to talk with yesterday. It’s scary being alone with the memories of my past, so I baked to distract myself. It’s also the reason I’ve been wearing my headphones today. When it gets too quiet, I get overwhelmed.”

Kurapika looked down, guilt overcoming him. She’s been all alone with no one to hold her as the memories came flooding back. Of course she’s be a nervous wreck, he was just astonished she was okay enough to be talking to him right now.

‘She is strong. I just… I could never think about putting her in harms way.’

Kurapika kissed her hand. “(Name), after all this I would like to take you out on a date. Where would you like to go?”

She blushed. “Hmm… how about we go see a movie? Oh, or go to one of those cat cafes!”

He chuckled. “We can do both. I’m just glad you’re willing to go on a date with me, (Name).”

(Name) leaned her head on the table. “Why wouldn’t I? You’re a sweet guy, I don’t mind giving you a chance.”

He turned a light shade of pink at her words. “Really? I wouldn’t consider myself that sweet.”

She looked at him incredulously. “If you aren’t sweet then why do you treat me like I’m made of glass? You’re so gentle when you touch me. It’s different from my friend.”

Kurapika seemed both pleased and dismayed at her words. “He… touches you?”

His jealousy was poignant.

“A lot, really. Always rubbing my thigh, sleeping with me, holding my hand, grabbed my boobs in a dressing room…”

She sighed. “And I’m pretty sure he saw me naked when he sat in the bathroom while I showered.”

Kurapika’s eye twitched in annoyance. “Really? How… strange.”

(Name) crosses her legs. “Kurapika, you’re cute when you’re jealous.”

He pouted. “There’s nothing for me to be jealous of.”

She tilted her head before squishing her boobs together. “Oh really? Then you don’t wanna touch these?”

He stared down at her cleavage with his cheeks a bright shade of pink. “I didn’t say that…”

She giggled. “Mhm, that’s what I-“

He stood up and walked forward. “May I?”

“May you… what?”

He smiled down at he with a hint of mischief in his eyes. “May I touch you?”

She blinked, looking from him to his hands that hovered around her. Hesitantly, she gave him a quick nod, squishing her legs together.

He first started by placing his hands on her shoulders, trailing them halfway down her arms until they stopped right next to her breasts.

He glanced back at her before slowly cupping her chest. “Is this alright?”

His eyes were staring down at her, half lidded.

“Oh… um… yes.”

He gave her breasts a quick squeeze, seemingly mesmerized by the softness of them. Her little whimper didn’t go unnoticed by the blonde, a smirk pulling at his lips.

He thought about slipping his hands under her dress, but stopped himself. “Soft…”

Kurapika pulled his hands back. “You have my permission to touch me too, (Name). Anywhere you’d like.”

He kneeled in front of her, bringing the back of her hand to his lips. “You may not be mine yet, but I am yours. Completely.”

It was hard to resist him when he was looking at her with those pretty scarlet eyes, a testament to his intense feelings for her. She reached out to cup his cheek, the man instantly leaning into her touch.

“You’re really sweet, Kurapika. Thank you for loving me, I…”

He leaned forward, capturing her lips in another kiss. This one was quick, the blonde pulling away.

“Shh, you don’t have to say you love me yet. I would wait a lifetime for you.”

(Name) had never been treated so gently, so lovingly before. It wasn’t something she would take for granted.

She gave him a nod, ruffling his hair.

——————

They stayed together for a bit longer, Kurapika’s eyes never leaving her form. When it was time for him to enact his plan, he escorted (Name) to the hotel lobby and called her a cab.

“I’ll see you soon, (Name). Once this is over.”

He thought about kissing her again, but he didn’t. Kurapika wouldn’t push too hard, even though his heart yearned for her touch.

“You’ll be careful, right?”

He held open the cab’s door for. “I will.”

Kurapika closed the cab door and watched as it drove off, his heart hammering against his chest. She hadn’t rejected him outright, and had even kissed him herself.

He wasn’t sure if he should deserve to feel this happy, but let himself feel those butterflies for her.

‘I love her. So much.’

(Name) opened up her backpack and noticed a notification pop up on her phone. She’d silenced it when she’d left to visit Kurapika and the rest so she could really enjoy her time with them.

It was all from Feitan. (Name) scrolled up to the first message he’d sent.

Grumpy Pants: leaving town today. meet up before I do?

Grumpy Pants: (Name)?

Grumpy Pants: why did you leave condo?

Grumpy Pants: plans changed. text back soon as you can.

(Name) winced. She hoped she hadn’t worried him. He’d asked her to stay put in her apartment after all.

Strawberries: Hey Fei! Sorry, I was out with friends today! I’m glad you aren’t leaving today, that’s waaayyy too soon ><

(Name) jumped when her phone began ringing. She accepted the call quickly.

“Hello-“

“Where are you?”

(Name) froze. It was Feitan, but he sounded very… intense.

“I’m in a cab on my way to my apartment.”

“Good. Stay there. Dangerous, someone out for us.”

“Us?”

“Yes. You’re connected to me, means they could be after you too.”

(Name) sighed. “I see. I’ll be home soon. I-“

Her phone began to buzz, another call incoming.

“Sorry Fei, gotta take this.”

“(Name), d-“

She clicked on the other call.

“Illumi, hey.”

The man on the other end smiled. “I finally have time for you, (Name). I’ll be coming to pick you up for dinner in an hour.”

‘But Feitan said I needed to stay at my apartment…’

(Name) but her lip. ‘But… I miss Illumi so much…’

“Okay. See you then!”

(Name) hung up and placed her phone back in her bag. She sighed into her hands and looked down at her trembling legs.

Kurapika had worked her up a great deal when he’d groped her chest. She’d have to please herself in the shower before her meeting with Illumi if she wanted to be able to focus on anything.

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j-onedrabbles · 1 year

Text

𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒆

✧ PAIRING: SEUNGMIN X READER ✧ CW: FLUFF, ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP, CUDDLING, DOMESTIC ✧ WC: 0.4K ✧ NOTE:

Come back season was always tiring on the body. Seungmin loved his career but lord when it was busy, he just wanted a break. He was lucky the group always prepared in advance for their comebacks so it wasn’t as busy with recordings and everything. But stages and interviews got to be draining. But he was grateful that once things had calmed down, he had a great partner to go home to.

Y/n knew Seungmin was tired as all hell every night he came home, if he didn’t spend the night at the dorms that is. He was busy and they understood. They were there when he needed them and let him have his space. It was usually at night after they both got ready for bed that he’d cuddle up against them and give them a kiss goodnight.

Once everything calmed down and he finally got a day off, Y/n took it upon themselves to make him rest. No cooking or cleaning up their apartment. Y/n made sure the day before all the housework was done so he didn’t have to worry about it. He didn’t really notice when he came home. Just kissed them hello and said he was going to bed early.

‘Yeah, he’s exhausted,’ Y/n thought. They finished up what they were doing before getting ready for bed themselves. Seungmin was already basically passed out by the time they walked into the shared room.

His back was facing them so Y/n climbed in bed behind him and wrapped their arms around his waist, cuddling into his back and kissing the nape of his neck before going to sleep themselves.

Usually, when morning came, Seungmin was the first of the two up, but Y/n woke up before him that day. Y/n smiled and sneaked out of bed and headed down to the kitchen. They made him some coffee and started making breakfast for the two of them. About ten minutes later, a sleepy Seungmin strolled into the kitchen and wrapped his arms around his partner, laying his head in the crook of their neck.

“Good morning,” Y/n greeted and turned their head to kiss the side of his

His answer was mumbled in their skin but they assumed he returned the same greeting.

“I would’ve made breakfast if you woke me up,” Seungmin said

“Nope. It’s your day off and you were exhausted last night. You’re not doing anything today.” Y/n told him

“I can’t argue with you, can I?”

“Nope, there’s coffee for you on the counter.”

Seungmin moved and grabbed the coffee mug and took a sip before going back to cuddling his lover while they cooked. “You plan on taking care of me all day?”

“Yep.”

“Can we go back to bed after breakfast?”

“Of course.”

Seungmin kissed their cheek as a thank you. Man, he was lucky to have a great partner to take care of him

M. LIST ✧ TIP JAR

T A G S ✧ @junebug032 @the-sweetest-rose @hanjingin

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aclowntiny · 10 months

Text

Puppy Love- Yunho x Female!Barista!Reader

I haven't forgotten about all my coffee shop stories 😁😁😁 Yunho in his ‘you like jazz?’ era

Word Count: 3536 | Coffee Shop, Fluff | Warnings: too dang fluffy 😝

Yunho’s dream had finally come true. A dog café had opened up within walking distance of work. What a time to be alive! What a lucky walk of the streets on his break, unsure how to spend his rare free time once he had it. Using it for an activity seemed simultaneously gratifying and overwhelming. Time to burn some energy off with some very good boys and girls instead! Some caffeine might also reverse-jitter him back into productivity…or at least into the right headspace to squeeze in an episode of that show he needed to finish.

Beneath an awning of striped lime green and white awaited the door to Leash Love Latte, the lovely windowed building decorated with paint-on art of joyous pups of all breeds, two of which held mugs and one of which was about to devour a bone-topped cupcake. Yunho couldn't help but smile as his eyes scanned the glass, jumping a bit at the noise when he opened the door, but the startlement easily fell into a laugh as he opened the security door once the front one was closed and was met with a barrage of dogs.

"Oh, hi," he giggled as one little papillon practically climbed up his leg, bending down to scoop her up into his arms. Flipping her collar tag, he saw it read 눈. A name meaning Snow made sense- she was a ball of pure white fluff after all.

Carrying her up to the counter, Yunho was met with the sight of an extremely nimble barista practically skating across the café floor to slide a pastry onto the counter and call out its owner’s name, then turn on her heels to catch a drink from the older man who held it out to her and repeat the process. Once that was done, she twirled around to face the counter.

“Sorry about that, just had an order to finish up,” she paused, taking a couple breaths and getting her hair back into place, smile never leaving her face, “oh, Nunie, are you making friends?” Her gaze had dropped to the sweet pup in Yunho’s arms, the nickname and her evident familiarity with the café dogs warming his heart.

“Yep," he agreed with a chuckle, holding her up a bit higher with fatherly pride despite their very recent meeting, "I think she'd have made a ladder of me if she could."

"Well, you are pretty tall," the girl joked.

"I guess that's true! So, what do you recommend here?"

She grinned. "Dog or drink?"

"Drink," Yunho responded, "I don't think I'll get away with any cheating today."

"How does a peanut butter mocha sound?"

"Great," he replied, "I've never had one before!"

Plucking a solid pink, paw-print-dotted mug from some unseen counter alcove, the barista grinned. "It's sort of my specialty."

"She's always trying to hock those!" The older man called out from deeper in the kitchen, offering a devilish grin.

"Hey! At least I have a specialty!" She called back, smiling when he shouted that she was a better barista than him and sliding the mug down the slick metal counter surface before turning back to Yunho. "Sorry, that's my uncle. He's a bit of a jokester. Your name?”

"Yunho. And that's ok. I can see how well you guys get along. So this is a family business, then?"

"Yep," she nodded, "everything I do, I try to do with my family."

Something about those simple words touched Yunho's heart, throwing its beat off even as he lowered himself into a bench, stroking his snowy new friend and laughing as a brown and white Jack Russel terrier and a little grey mutt with a folded ear scrambled up to fill his lap all the way. His gaze darted between them and the young lady behind the counter as she operated all the kitchenware with focused eyes and lightly smiling lips.

This place really was heaven.

"Here you go!"

Yunho's attention snapped up from the mutt, Sammy, to meet the eyes of the girl. He hadn't really paid attention to the color of them before, but the lime-and-pink shaded light dangling above his table must have somehow brought it out as she set his mug in front of him a respectable distance from the squirming dogs piled upon his lap.

"What was your name again?" Yunho blurted out before he could help it.

"(y/n)."

"(y/n)," he repeated with a smile, "wonderful. I just felt like I needed to have a name to go with the face."

Her eyes remained on him, though the smile on her face did not fade. Sammy licked at her sleeve, which only made it grow wider, her nose crinkling a bit. A wave of awkwardness crashed over Yunho.

"So, (y/n), you must really like peanut butter." That sounded much better in his head.

She just giggled. “I love it! I was eating a peanut butter cup when I got the idea for the drink.”

“That’s so cool! I have a friend who cooks and that seems hard, let alone designing something new, like I can’t even imagine.”

(y/n) waved a hand before reaching it back down to pet a fluffy spotted Australian shepherd that ran by her feet. “Oh, I bet you could come up with something,” she told him with a smile.

Yunho racked his brain, but beneath the tantalizing chocolate-peanut-butter-coffee-with-a-hint-of-espresso smell, the light of that obnoxiously cute lamp, the warm, wiggling puppy pile on his lap, and the faint, anticipatory flutter of the girl’s eyelashes, not much was floating up coherently. “I can’t think of anything that would be good in coffee,” he finally admitted.

“What about something that would be bad in coffee?”

“All my brain was giving me was fruit loops, so I’d say that.”

(y/n) gave a humored wince. “Ooh, yeah. Though that would make a good milk latte or shake! I could totally work with that!” And with that, she made another of her skate-like drifts across the shop, dodging three dogs darting at her feet as she fell back behind the counter, pulling out a couple appliances and taking notes like a mad scientist.

Well, that wasn’t too bad a response to fruit loops of all things. Patting Sammy, Yunho pulled his steaming mug to his lips, barely feeling the cup’s heat above that in his own sheepish cheeks.

A few days after his Leash Love Latte trip, Yunho was out for a walk to clear his head after a very early morning of choreography practice, having rinsed himself off and wanted nothing more than to get out into the sun and breeze, practically melting the industrial lighting out of his skin. Cleansing the sweat off had only been step one.

Veering off the paved walking trail, Yunho crossed over the inclination of a grassy green hill, wandering over the great emerald expanse and dodging the occasional frisbee. Ducking under one that was thrown high enough, even.

The small amount of skin exposed by his t-shirt warmed pleasantly in the moderate day's air as he passed an area surrounded by metal gating that bore a few tied-on signs. Within it, dogs of varying sizes tore across the grass, played tug-of-war, and ran to their owners with new friends in tow. As he got closer, he noticed that one of those owners had a haircut that looked quite familiar, a smile Yunho felt like he’d just been graced with.

It was (y/n)! Carefully undoing the safety gate with a deft motion of his fingers, he lifted the release and entered, immediately dodging dogs as he ran a hand through his hair hoping he’d straightened it. His other hand was already getting thoroughly sniffed, a few licks coming to it before he reclaimed it, giving a bulldog and a border collie some pats as he milled through the park. A mutt- maybe half terrier- ran up to him snuffling with a squeaky toy in its jaws, so Yunho threw it, laughing as it turned into a little spotted streak of lightning. Hopefully its owner was young. And then, turning on his heels, he faced you.

“Oh, hey, (y/n), right?” He leaned forward, resting a hand as casually as he could atop the bench a few feet from him, mock-guessing your name like it hadn’t made a few runs through his head of late. “Didn’t see you there. I’m-”

“Yunho from the café. Fruit loops guy.”

Fruit loops guy. “Yep, that’s me.” He put a hand to his chest. “Fruit loops guy.”

“I’ve been tinkering around with stuff and that idea is something that we might be adding to the menu if my uncle lets me!” She added, grinning as a pup Yunho recognized as Sammy ran up to her, leaning into her offered pets.

“Really? That’s great!”

“Yeah! Should I name it after you?”

“The Yunho? Might confuse some people-”

(y/n) chuckled, wrapping her arms around Sammy to pull him onto her lap. “Yunho, I was kidding.”

“Oh, right, yeah, I knew that. So, uh, taking Sammy to the dog park?”

“Yep,” she nodded, smiling, “I try to take all the adoptables out on an alternating schedule.”

“Oh,” Yunho tilted his head in thought, “the Leash Love Latte dogs are for adoption?”

“Indeed they are. The goal is people live them so much they want to take them home!”

“Guess then they’d really need a doggy bag,” he quipped.

(y/n)’s eyes widened as she burst out with a laugh. “Ok, that’s so perfect, mind if I steal that?”

“Be my guest.”

“I’ll try my best to credit you where I can. Hey, wanna play frisbee with Sammy? It’s practically as big as him, but he loves it.”

Was there even a question? “Of course! Come on, Sammy, let’s go!”

And with that, they both pushed off their respective bench seat and lean, jogging deeper into the park’s grass and dodging a fire hydrant in the ground as they took turns tossing the blue plastic disc (y/n) had ready in her backpack.

“Hey, remember the guy who inspired my fruit loops latte?” You called back into the kitchen as you refilled the coffee bean jars up front, dim evening lights of closing time filing Leash Love Latte.

“Tall fellow, right?” You uncle questioned in response.

"Yeah," you nodded, "him. If he comes back, I'm going to get him in the kitchen."

"In the kitchen?" Your uncle's voice raised both in incredulity and response to some barks from your café companions. "I thought you liked him."

"Oh, geez!" Plucking a not-so-wet grey washcloth from your counter, you lobbed it at your uncle and his jokes. "I do. You think I'd let any loser with a dazzling smile into my laboratory?"

The washcloth connected with your uncle's shoulder, breaking his face into a grin as he shook it into his hand and started wiping the kitchen surface with it. "Ugh, save the sappy crap for him, huh? What are you even going to make him do? A day of free labor?"

"No," you giggled, leaning on the shining metal of your counterspace, "I think he has better ideas than he gives himself credit for. I'm just going to let him try making whatever he wants."

"As long as you guys clean up after yourselves," your uncle teases you, giving you a fond smile.

"Of course we will," you reply with a joyous look of your own, anticipation coursing through you as you imagined all the things you could come up with on your quest for a new menu item...and maybe something else new for you.

"Get in the kitchen with you? Me?" Yunho looked at you with eyes wide, holding little Nun a bit tighter in his hands in startlement as if you'd suggested he set his pants on fire.

"Well, I wasn't exactly asking your invisible twin brother there," you teased, clicking the pen in your hand open, then closed again, as you glanced over his shoulder.

He turned his head that way too like there'd suddenly be someone there. There obviously was not. "Alright, point taken. You liked the cereal lattes that much, huh?"

That wasn't what I liked most, you wanted to say. You leaned a bit further out from behind the register. "Something like that. I think it would be fun! Don't you? We don't have to make something good, that'll just be a bonus!"

Yunho's smile returned as yours spread out, and he bent over and gently placed the little fluffball he'd been holding back on the floor, where she stood at his feet, sniffing Cherry, a black chihuahua. "I don't think it'll be fun, (y/n)..."

Your expression stiffened a bit, eyebrows raising to urge his trailed-off sentence on.

"I know it will be! Let's do it! As long as you're allowed to do this, of course."

And then you were smiling again, heart beating in anticipation. You were going to get this dog-loving man and his silly innocent brain in your life no matter what it took.

"Cleared with the boss man and all. Let's make something out of this dead workday!"

Yunho laughed at that, accepting the hand you held out, beckoning him into the sacred space behind the counter, aka your drink and treat lab.

"So," you grinned, folding both your hands under your chin, "wanna make a drink or bake something?"

"Why don't we bake?" Yunho replies, gaze breaking from yours in thought. "Hmm, what's a good dessert to go with a drink? Shortcake?"

"Like strawberry shortcake?"

"Yeah, but why is shortcake always strawberry? Why can't it be any other fruit?"

You shrugged, feeling your expression smugly egg him on. "Why can't it? What do you have in mind?"

"Have you ever seen those candied melons? What about melon shortcake? I bet no one's done that before," Yunho answered before pausing for a couple ticks of Leash Love Latte's dangly-tail dog-in-a-teacup wall clock, "or is that gross?"

Crossing further into the kitchen, you pulled open a silver cabinet and turned back to him. "Only one way to find out."

He shuffled into the kitchen beside you, bouncing on his heels. “Do you have a shortcake recipe?”

“I do indeed,” you said with a grin, taking an apron off the peg on the kitchen wall and handing it his way.

You set to work prepping and measuring the wet ingredients while Yunho took on the dry, the most prominent of which was the flour. Shortcake, you reminded him, wasn’t as sweet as a regular cake, so that seemingly small amount of sugar was in fact correct.

It all went nearly without a hitch, only a small chunk of butter plopping onto the silvery counter, which you quickly twirled around to wipe squeaky clean again. Yunho was doing great at sifting everything together, almost as if he’d done it before.

Well, until the last scoop of flour, that is. The last one hung just wrong, dropping from the measuring cup in Yunho’s hand and sliding down the edge of the mesh strainer, bursting in a cloud of curling pure white dust upon the counter, his apron, and even on the side of your pant leg.

"Oh my gosh, (y/n), I'm so sorry!" Yunho immediately exclaimed, holding his hands out like he didn't trust them anymore.

"Don't worry about it," you replied with a smile and a flippant gesture, "it won't be the first or the last time that happens in here. Besides, in Hallmark movies all things like this do is start a cheeky flour fight."

Yunho glanced down helplessly at his apron and the counter. "Wouldn't that just make it worse?"

"Oh, absolutely," you nod, "but if you just twirl it off your apron, you'll get a pretty cloud effect."

Expectation? A little shimmy. Reality? Yunho executing a perfect showman's leaping twirl, the move indeed enhanced by a puff surrounding him as the powder shook off of him and drifted down to the kitchen tile.

You might've been gaping, but it quickly faded into a smile as you drifted past him in search of a rolling pin. "Alright, so you're, like, an expert dancer, that's totally normal and not extremely cool."

"Oh, I'm no expert. I-I just dance for a living," he replied with a shy grin and darting gaze.

"I hate to break this to you," you leaned on the counter in front of him, rolling pin in hand and awe on your face, "but that makes you an expert. Certainly more than me. You should be there one of the many times I forget a step of the macarena."

Yunho's hands started drifting around in the general airspace above his shoulders, head, and hips. "Which part?"

All you could do was giggle and hold the rolling pin up in your hand, head shaking. "Have you ever kneaded and rolled dough before?" He had good dough hands. Certainly more proportional to the dough than yours!

"We did it, (y/n)! We made shortcake!" Practically floating above the tile, Yunho high-fived you after you set the tray down.

While your creation baked, the two of you had ditched your aprons and crossed the threshold back into adoptable territory to absolutely ruin all your kitchen-sanitary hands on the hurricane of dogs that surged after you, leaping into your arms like the sweetest of crests crashing onto your jean-clad knees.

This time you took Nun and Yunho had Mickey the Australian shepherd, who plopped right down on the café tile with his head in Yunho's now-seated lap. You held your fluffy ball of wonder close to your chest and she practically melted in, little black boba eyes fluttering contentedly shut.

Both of you whined how it was torture and apologized to the dogs as if it was a coordinated act as you waved and backed into the kitchen with four remorseful eyes on the adoptable crowd, and that was how the shortcake was procured.

Candying the watermelon went off without a hitch. Well, mostly. While a welcome strength boost to cut the honeydews, Yunho had you half giggling, half protectively extending an arm as he yelped at the bubbling sugar boiling in the pot. For that, you bid him mix the cream while you got the fruit ready.

More time with the adoptables as the candy set, and then you were stacking cake, cream, and shining, syrupy melon chunks into a light yellow-and-green treat topped with some melon balls and classic rosettes.

"It's beautiful," you congratulated Yunho with a wide smile.

"Better than the fruit loop latte idea?"

You just nodded as the sound of your business's door closing rang our behind you. "And here's our proof coming!" You clapped, rushing out of the kitchen in the bouncing dance of a barista on a mission. "Uncle, will you try our dessert please? Yunho and I worked really hard on it," you plead as you dragged your amused uncle into your workspace, one arm linked with his and the other gesturing with a flourish toward the lovely shortcake and your lovely fellow baker, who immediately bent his legs and struck an introductory pose at it himself.

"I can tell. This looks great, you two," your uncle told you, pride clear in his voice as much as on his face as he ruffled your hair with his free hand.

Wiggling gently out of your grip, he accepted the proffered fork from Yunho and reached over to dig into the plated treat you'd decorated on the counter, which of course you'd wiped down before he could see the mess you made. Didn't hurt to butter up the person trying your new innovation, right?

Your uncle's eyebrows shot up the moment the forkful of your shortcake entered his mouth, both you and Yunho leaping up as if watching the pinnacle of a photo-finish race.

"Well, how is it?" You burst out, practically wiggling under the suspense.

"Yes, sir," Yunho added, straightening the apron he'd put back on, "is it good enough to go on the menu?"

"It's very good, son," your uncle began, eliciting a loud cheer from you two and a resonant, stingingly strong high-five of elation to boot.

"But," he added, both of you inhaling at his next words, eyes not even leaving him when an audible, surely adorable play-wrestle broke out among the adoptables, "if you want this on the menu, there's one condition."

"Wh- what's that? Er, sir?" Yunho stiffened under your uncle's serious gaze.

Short-lived as it was; the expression soon melted into your beloved joker's smile of mischief. "You have to take my niece on a date."

"Uncle, I-" You began to protest, heat rising to your cheeks faster than any oven or milk steamer could preheat.

"Yes, sir," Yunho nodded, sparing you a quick glance and a small wave as if he'd forgotten you were there, "that's a much greater reward than the menu spot."

His smile turned almost into something you'd see on a lovesick cartoon, as if your heart hadn't flipped hard enough in the past few minutes or even from the first time he walked in and you saw him being gentle with the adoptables.

What could you say? Guess it was puppy love.

#ateez #ateez imagines #ateez reactions #ateez x reader #ateez scenarios #yunho #yunho x reader #yunho x female reader #female reader #coffee shop au #fluff #barista!reader

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mrs-kodzuken · 4 months

Text

Destiny ♡

Pairing: Kōshi Sugawara x fem!reader

WC: 2.3k

Genre: fluff, soulmate au

CW: you’re a twin to oikawa meaning your looks will be similar, some cussing, fluff fem!reader, oikawa is annoying, iwaoi mentions

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

"Tōru, the preliminaries are right around the corner, I swear to god if you overwork yourself," I glared at him putting my hands on my hips.

"Relax, I'll be fine. As always." He chuckled running a hand through his glorious brown hair.

"I'm so disgusted by you.." I mumbled and walked away from my annoying brother.

"Aren't we all?" I heard iwaizumi chime in from beside me.

"You guys are so mean to me!" Tōru whined, trying to get us to pity him.

I rolled my eyes and walked off to gather towels for the boys on the volleyball team. As the appointed manager, I had a great time working with almost all of them.

Even Kyoutani, or as Tōru likes to call him, 'Maddog-chan'.

"Here, do you need more water?" I softly asked Kindaichi as I handed him a fresh white towel.

Our hands lightly grazed each others as he took it. I could definitely tell my presence made him visibly nervous.

High school boys, am I right?

"S-Sure!" His voice was suddenly very high pitched in his response.

"Alright.." I've slightly gotten used to being the girl around but half of the time it was awkward due to me being related to Tōru.

I grabbed his water bottle from his hands while gathering the rest of the empty ones too. Better fill the rest of them up whilst I'm at it.

"Huh, you must have the hots for me too if you like my sister. We're practically the same person." Oikawa chimes in all dickheadedly. And this is my exact thirteenth reason.

I heard Tōru say as he slung an arm across my shoulder.

"Don't touch me, Shittykawa." I growled with a glare and headed out of the gym, annoyed that I'm unfortunately related to him.

"Yep, the exact same." I heard iwaizumi snicker sarcastically to Tōru. I picked up that little nick name for my brother from Iwaizumi, of course.

I was surprised, Tōru sure did have balls for saying that in front of his soulmate. Who likes to throw balls at his stupid head, which I may add.

What a dumbass.

Even if Kindaichi did like me, bless his poor soul, I was going to wait for my soulmate. However, it didn't especially feel like I was going to see them anytime soon though.

I was always feeling a tiny shiver here and there, not exactly burning.

You see, the way we find our soulmates is basically a game of hot and cold. The closer we are, it's hot but farther we are, it's cold. Some fucked up life game if you ask me.

I wasn't particularly cold nor hot, just averagely warm more than half of the time.

I've heard it goes away once you find them and then you'll feel tingles or something when you touch. How the heck would I know? I haven't met the person.

However, the thoughts of my soulmate were pushed to the back of my mind as the Inter-high Prelim's were coming up.

I wanted to make sure Aoba Johsai won to nationals. As much as I always find Tōru a pain in the ass, I do want him to be happy. Even if he is boastful about himself a lot of the time.

I carried the bottles back, some of them slightly wet. I had to make sure not to drop any of them on my way.

"Alright, we're done for today. Make sure you guys stretch and rest up." Tōru said all captain-like as everyone got finished with putting the supplies away.

I eyed Tōru making sure he was coming along and not staying behind to continue his extra practice that he doesn't need.

"Calm down. I'm coming, jeez." I heard him say to Iwaizumi as he slung his bag on his back.

"Uh huh, I thought I'd have to drag your flatass out the gym." A retort sounded through the gym.

I stifled a laugh as Tōru and Haji argued back and forth about my brother's ass. Which now that I really give some thought about it, that sounds weird.

"Please stop, I don't want to hear about Tōru's flatass." I grossly commented.

"You two are so-" Oikawa started up with but immediately got cut off.

"Would you look at that, this is my house. Bye (Y/n)." Iwaizumi said, purposely cutting Tōru off and ignoring him.

"See you tomorrow." I waved and continued my walk home with a grumbling Tōru behind me. Our house was, coincidentally, only a couple houses down from Iwaizumi's.

I looked up at the night sky and silently wished the best for my team. Although, I wouldn't ever dare to admit that.

"Tōru? Aren't you going up against Tobio? Your kouhai?" I asked as we headed inside, taking off our shoes.

"First of all, he isn't my kouhai and yes I am. I'm going to beat him in an actual match and prove I'm better than him." He sassily retorted to me.

"Isn't he, like, a first year?" With Toru and I being twins, we both are in our third year.

However, that doesn't make us alike in anyway possible, except maybe looks and of course the relation of family.

"Yeah, why do you ask?" He slightly peered behind me, curious of my intentions.

I shrugged, "You sound immature when he's a first year and you're a third year." I pulled the, 'you're older' card on him like he was dumb.

"Hmph, no it doesn't! Mom!" He rushed into the kitchen to probably tell on me like the little snitch he is. Doesnt matter whether graduation was coming up or not, Tōru still had the motive to act like we were five.

"Tch, childish." I rolled my eyes and headed in there too, to defend myself of course.

"Ah! There are my two favorite headaches! Come help me set the table." I heard mom say as I saw Tōru take offense to what she said.

"Quit being a baby." I looked at him with a pointed expression and set the plates down.

"So mean." He grumbled.

I knew he couldn't insult me physical wise because we are the gender bented version of each other. However, sometimes he knew how to stoop low. Brother or not, he could be ruthless.

"Well, at least I'm not the one without a soulmate." He placed his hands on his hips and smiled triumphantly with an eating shit grin. Although, that didn't last long on his part.

"Don't say that to your sister." I heard dad enter the kitchen and scold him, very convenient on my part.

I grinned brightly at my dad who backed me up as I ignored the dull pain in my chest at not yet having found the other part of me.

Tōru stuck his tongue out at me and I did the same. Hey, if he gets to act childish why can't I do the same?

"Isn't it a bit hot in here to you?" I pulled at my shirt collar. I had taken off my jacket yet I thought about it because it was starting to get too hot for me.

"No? I'm playing in a match and it's not even that hot." Iwaizumi looked at me weird.

"Well whatever it is, it needs to pass." I glared at nothing in particular. I hated being hot, the feeling only made my mood worsen at times.

"Okay, now you guys go out there and win this." I supportively said, pushing the heat on my body aside, and saw Tōru visibly cringe.

"No, stop. That's just..no." He shook his head in a disapproving manner at me.

"Iwaizumi." I merely grumbled, if I couldn't do anything, he surely could for me.

The next thing I knew, Iwaizumi had slapped Tōru on the back of his head.

"That's not how you're supposed to talk to your sister." He scolded. I heard the ref blow the whistle, signaling the break was over and it was time to get back in the game.

My gaze stayed focused on the game, not particularly on one player. I was following each move they made with my eyes.

Soon, the game had been over and Aoba Johsai had won.

"You guys did so well! I'm so proud of you!" I ran towards them, trying to hug all of them at once.

Suddenly, I heard a rough voice come from across the net as we were celebrating.

"Oikawa."

I turned around at the same time Tōru did, and coincidentally Iwaizumi turned too.

"Yes?" we three had answered simultaneously. I raised a brow over to Iwaizumi and stifled a laugh. Strange, I didn't think he would take our last name.

I saw the tall guy, who seemed to be familiar, look dumbfounded.

He quickly seemed to get over his pause, "Next time, we'll win." He said strongly as I saw their captain come and get him.

Before they could even react, I turned towards the two.

"So, Mr. Hajime Oikawa?" I watched the two of them blush as we walked off the court together.

"You two are hella dorks." I muttered at them with a smile on my face.

While they had started changing their uniforms I felt an enormous amount of heat flow through me.

I furrowed my brows unbeknownst to why and then it suddenly hit me. My soulmate must be here.

I started walking around, feeling to see if I had gotten warmer or colder. This really is just a big game of hot and cold.

"Uhh, what're doing?" I heard my brother ask from behind me.

"They're leaving." I whispered and started a fast-paced walk to where the warmth was leaving me.

"(Y/n)! you can't just run off like that!" I heard Tōru yell behind me as I booked into a run. God, I didn't want them to leave.

Soon, I was led outside. It was as if someone placed the sun beside me. I could feel it radiating all over my entire body. I was so fucking hot.

I saw the Karasuno team slowly walking towards and entering their bus. I couldn't spot anyone who exactly looked like they were close to fainting from the heat like I was.

"Hey! Wait!" I yelled out as I neared them. I just had to find them.

However, I didn't see where I was going and collided with someone. The heat I was experiencing, and almost fainted from, suddenly vanished and was replaced with tingles.

Lots of tingles like when your foot is asleep and you have to walk on it. But.. this was comforting, a little pleasurable.

Opening my eyes, I saw a silver haired guy in front of me, on the ground too. I could have cared less at the moment, I just needed to know.

Without thinking of my actions, I grabbed his arm, and sure enough there were tingles radiating up and down my arm.

"Oh my God." I heard him whisper to himself probably. I pulled into a hug as I heard footsteps nearing us.

"I can't believe I found you." I said which came out to a mumble since I was pressed into to him. I could smell his jersey, honeysuckle and linen, a surprisingly intoxicating scent.

I felt his heartbeat, which seemed like it would fly out of his chest at any minute. As if he realized we were still on the ground, he tore himself from the embrace. Standing up, he offering a hand to me.

"Thank you," I nervously said, I mean this was the person I'd most likely be spending the rest of my life with, according to fate.

"I'm Kōshi Sugawara, what's your name?" He moved a strand of hair out of my face, the tingles giving me chills as I shivered with delight.

Just as I was about to answer, a rude and annoying but all too familiar voice interrupted me, and our moment.

"Just what do you think you're doing with my sister, Mr. Pleasant!" I heard Tōru's God awful voice yell from a distance, coming closer with every second.

"Sister?" The man named Kōshi Sugawara questioned.

I looked toward Sugawara and sighed then sadly nodded. It was as if his team had tensed up with Tōru coming.

I mean, we did just beat them. Wait.. did they watch the entire meeting of me and Sugawara? Gosh, that is embarrassing.

"Tch, Shittykawa, can't you see i'm doing something?" I growled out at him, about to hit him when I stopped, seeing Iwaizumi in the distance.

Lucky for me, I have a future brother-in-law who can beat his ass for me.

He came up behind Tōru and grabbed his shirt by the collar. "You're such a pain sometimes." He muttered after bowing to us apologetically and dragged him back.

"Jesus, sorry about him. He really is a pain in the ass. Hi, I'm (Y/n) Oikawa." I smiled brightly at Koushi, my soulmate.

"I didn't know Oikawa had a sister?" I heard someone from his team speak up.

"Oh yeah, and it gets even worse, I'm his twin." I sighed in defeat at my words.

"Well, (Y/n) Oikawa. Here's my number, I would like to go out with you Saturday if you want? For coffee?"

I turned back to my soulmate upon hearing his voice and smiled brightly once again. He literally looks like an angel from heaven.

"Of course," I put his number in my phone and my eyes wandered upward towards the time.

They almost bulged out of my head, "Oh my god, I have to go. Uh, I'll see you Saturday Koushi? Bye!" I waved him off, missing the feeling of the tingles that would linger on my hand.

I couldn't wait for Saturday.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

a/n: this is from my “Haikyuu x Reader One Shots” on Wattpad! I hope you enjoyed and let me know if you want more!

the header is from Jimena Martinez on Pinterest

#sugawara x you #sugawara x y/n #sugawara kōshi #boyfriend sugawara #haikyuu sugawara #sugawara koushi #sugawara x reader #hq sugawara #soulmate au #haikyuu soulmate au #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #haikyū!!#oikawa tooru #haikyuu oikawa #oikawa torū

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