#I think the Inner Party members are at the top; and all the orders they give travel down | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

alonewithchi · 3 years ago

Text

Accomplished.

Summary: It becomes official.

Warning: Cursing language, Angsty, Fluffy, Fem!reader, Fake Dating Trope, Happy Ending :)

Word count: 4500+

Thank you so so so so much for the support on my previous imagine! If you haven’t read part 1, here is it.

Please enjoy :D

"Boo, you should really take a look at all of these," JB called out to you.

"Why do you sound so distressed?" You put off your iPad and crawled to his side of the couch.

"Oh. Boy." You gasped upon seeing all the fuss. "The world is scary." You laughed bittersweetly, still scrolling through JB's phone.

"No, the world SHIPS you two," JB sarcastically corrected you.

"Pffff, I got stuffs to do." You shrugged and swiftly popped back to your spot.

JB's rant was about to continue when your phone vibrated.

"Sup, my G?" You grinned widely.

"Hey Y/n! Is JB there?"

"Yup, sitting beside me and being all bitchy here," you glanced at him with a smirk.

"As always, hehe. Anyway, we got a Midsummer party in my house tomorrow night. Are you guys down to be Creative Directors?"

The title was music to your ears. JB jumped at the opportunity, “Hell yeah!”

You perpetuated the excitement. "Missing it is a sin. When do we start?"

"Y’all decide. This ain’t no Met," the caller chuckled.

"Got it. See you, DDG." You blew a kiss into the phone.

"Miss you lots."

This party was uniquely an annual event for your inner circle of friends. Besides DDG and JB, the remaining four members were blooming rappers and singers as well. While DDG, JB and you were childhood friends, the others became part of your life on a fateful winter night. It was an underground rap battle; you and JB were DDG’s cheerleaders. After winning the championship, he introduced you to his fellows, with whom you and JB hit it off immediately. As time flew by, you guys had been together through the highs and lows, the victories and the failures. One by one, each of your inner circle earned success.

“FINALLY!” JB stood up on the glass coffee table, “A TIME FOR YOU TO WEAR THAT OUTFIT!” He was screaming on the top of his lungs.

You knew exactly which one it was. It was a black fishnet, body-hugging turtleneck, accompanied by beige-checkered cargo pants decorated with square pockets and a green camo jacket. All pieces were crafted by the mastermind JB himself. JB spent nearly a year in secrecy designing, sewing and perfecting this whole fit just for you. You received this masterpiece on your most recent birthday; needless to say, you were overwhelmed with tears.

“Finally,” an adrenaline rush sent electricity through your spines when you uttered the word.

- - -

“We won’t have to arrive in the morning. I have directed all the staff. We just need a lil check-up before the party,” JB walked in your bedroom, his laptop dangling in his hands as he made the way.

“Oh great, I will send Benny to assist logistics then.” You typed the order into your phone, before falling back onto your fluffy pillows.

It was already dark outside. The city life below was blooming with lively traffic noise. Audible musical notes could be heard faintly from afar. The night seemed distant, yet not.

Suddenly your mind recalled the Met’s memorable night. Your heartbeat automatically increased when the flashback reached the destined dance.

You remembered his ocean eyes and his pink lips. You remembered the way he caressed your figure and the way his face lit up whenever he saw you. You remembered how-

“Thinking about him?”

JB brought you back. Your head conducted a light nod, followed by your attempt to change the subject. “Alright, let me-“

“Stop dodging your feelings, Y/n.” JB calmly said, before letting out a long sigh. “You two are clearly into each other. It is undeniable.”

You kept silent, feeling guilty. The last thing you would want on this Earth was your loved ones being bothered by your personal business. Yet, JB, being JB, had always cared deeply for you. He was a loving and affectionate big brother to you.

“I bet you’re feeling bad to see me so worked up with your stuffs.” He glared at you. Your lips formed a thin line; you nodded lightly. Your back leaned against the headboard.

“Y/n,” he scooted in and took your hands. “You might don’t want to be with him, understood. But let yourself feel. I’m tired of you being all unhappy in your love life.”

Suddenly, an urge to cry flooded your insides. Your vision became blurry, your throated clotted and your nose stiff. You burst out like a child into JB’s embrace.

“I do love him, JB. I do.”

“I know you do, kid.” He hugged your crouched body, hands patting gently on your back to sooth the surging pain. “You do.”

- - -

“DDG just called, party at his house tonight. Y’all down?” Lucci announced the news to his folks, who were chilling in the studio.

“How did you know him?” Jack enquired his friend, head tilting. Everyone else was mentally asking the same question.

Lucci shrugged. “Through some mutual dudes. But are y’all down?”

The team collectively issued an agreeing response. “Good, get ready. DDG has the best in everything. Weed, girls, food. Everything.” The enthusiasm was obvious in his voice.

“Dang, lucky guy, eh?” Jack pulsed his lips.

“Yeah, and dress up a bit. This party is huge. Y’all can make some connections.” Lucci said grimly, before laughing it off, “Or fuck some OG’s bitch. Who knows?”

After exchanging laughter, the circle gradually disintegrated. Soon, it was Jack and Urban left in the room. Urban stretched his long body on the comfortable couch, before opening up his phone and checking the IG. Meanwhile, Jack was humming and scribbling his lyrics onto a screen.

“YO! Y/n just commented on your post!” An exclamation from his friend shocked Jack.

He quickly opened his phone to validate the news. “Shave,” he muttered the comment with a smirk.

Jack’s newest post consisted of a mirror selfie. He was casually dressed in an all-white tracksuit. His blue eyes were lowly covered by a pair of dark shades, yet the former stared directly into his reflection. This had undoubtedly resulted in multiple thirst comments. Expecting this, Jack added a tempting caption to the picture: “Might try hitting it in front of a mirror like this. You down?”

Jack wondered if you had giggled when you saw such a post. He heart-ed your comment and brooded over whether or not to reply to it. If he had, the already surplus responses from fans on seeing your comment would have exploded.

“She’s such a tease,” Urban chuckled in his throat. “I’m glad y’all still friends. She’s intelligent, gorgeous and so fun to be around.”

“Not for long.” Jack flopped the phone onto the table and leaned back in his feather chair.

Urban tilted his head curiously, “The hell you mean?”

With his eyes shut, Jack confidently declared his next move.

“Imma win her back. This time, things will be official.”

- - -

“Here, let me carry some.” JB assisted you with your foodstuffs as you two arrived at the white condo. You smiled and handed him the brown bags.

“Jimmy, you can take the next day off. We will be staying here until the day after tomorrow.” You smiled to the middle-aged driver, who had been an asset to the journey of you and JB ever since the start.

The driver instantly had on him a concerned expression, “Will you kids be okay? What if you need something? I am available.”

Your heart warmed at the caring gesture. “Nah, no worries. DDG has like ten cars, we can manage. Plus, we’re grown-ups now!” Your mouth formed a dorky smile.

Jimmy laughed at your childish action. “Alright then. Bye Y/n. Bye JB.” He waved with an amiable smile, before driving off.

“Wow, DG really likes to start his party early,” JB stated as soon as you and him reached the entrance. Despite the closed wooden doors, you could hear clearly the blasting music.

After a few seemingly desperate attempts at the bell, someone finally answered. It was the owner himself.

“Wassup, homies?” DDG was grinning ear to ear once he laid his eyes on his best friends. “The setting y’all made is fucking nuts!” He wrapped his arms around you and JB and squeezed tightly.

“Good to see you too, my G.” Your words muffled under his embrace.

Giggling, JB switched to his “hood” mode as well. “My man’s out here looking like money!”

“Thanks JB. I appreciate that. Let’s get in and finish the setting. We have an hour to go.”

One thing you had always loved about working with your team was how they perfectly managed to materialize your vision. The graphics, the holograms, the DJ sets, the liquors; everything fitted together in a wildly energetic manner, which embodied the young spirits.

Your mood, albeit already excited, was significantly lifted once you finally saw your team. Everyone went bananas upon seeing you and JB; they withdrew from their working positions and immediately ran to your position. You gave them your heartfelt compliments, before flexing your paper bags. “I GOT US FOOD!!!!”

Needless to say, the team went wild. With loud screams of joy, some of them even crushed you into their arms, “You are the best boss!” You could not do anything but reciprocate the affection. These talented people were increasingly becoming your closest ones.

“I bought Mexican, Chinese, Thai and Korean food. Pick your favorite,” you pointed to each bag.

The team looked at you with even more endearing eyes. “We don’t deserve you, Y/n. We don’t.”

You just shook your head lightly, before looking around for conducting your finishing touches.

As it was Lucci’s desire to appear serious with the party, he insisted that his friend group would be among the earliest partygoers tonight. After arriving at the impressive mansion and being warmly greeted by DDG, the team retreated to the main balcony.

“I swear, G, you always have the best stuffs.” Lucci commented, which earned the owner a proud laugh. In his hand hung loosely a blunt. Despite the on-going inside decorations, everyone was chilling under the late sunset. Groovy music was on; on the table served hard-hit liquors.

“You tryna smoke?” DDG nudged Jack, who was sipping on a blue drink. “Nah, I can’t. But thanks, bro.”

Despite this, Jack was of course vibing along. Indulging in the relaxing atmosphere, everyone was discussing about their careers. Jack joined the rappers in discussing the Rap Industry. The conversation was going well and upbeat, before an audible bell ring interrupted.

“Excuse me,” DDG excitedly jumped up and made his way inside.

The commotion followed by his guests caught Jack’s attention. Being the closest one to the main door, he could not help but take a curious look into the floor.

They seemed to be some much-loved figures, Jack deducted. The decorators and operators were ecstatic upon meeting them. After chatting privately, DDG took the man to another room, leaving his companion behind. As the sun was setting, there was barely enough light to quickly make out the figure. Yet something inside Jack knew she was familiar.

As if his instincts were already quick enough, the female suddenly turned her back to look around the interior. Jack’s heart was out of place. His breaths hitched almost instantaneously. He felt his body jerk up once he caught her. It was Y/n, in the flesh.

Jack had no idea you would be here, which was partly due to the fact that your most inner circle of friends was not made public. Jack also had no idea what to do if you made eye contact with him, which you luckily didn’t. The sight of you made him panic.

It seemed ironic that earlier today he was bravely stating his plan to Urban. Yet right now, yet to meet your eyes, Jack was mentally trembling all over.

You noticed a group of friends outside the main balcony. Assuming that they were DDG’s guests, you paid no more attention than a mere glance and focused on your task.

“Check, check, check,” you muttered and went along the walls. You mentally nodded in approval of the perfection, before being irritated by the tangled lights on a high corner.

You turned around, hoping to seize any offer of help. However, the sight of your teammates happily munching over their snacks put you off. Instead, you resorted to the guests whom you saw earlier.

As you gathered all courage to walk out to the balcony, a familiar green jacket caught your attention.

“Urban?”

Before long, the mandem recognized you and became overjoyed. Urban immediately stood up and hugged you tightly, accompanied by greetings from the other members. Upon your entrance, Jack was back-facing you, which rendered you clueless of his presence until you darted your eyes to him last.

You cracked a soft smile, albeit a surprised one as well. Jack reciprocated the small gesture; his eyebrows raised ever so lightly, followed by his discreet smile.

“Why are you here?” Lucci asked after blowing a trail of smoke.

You sat on the arm of the couch in which Urban was sitting, directly facing Jack. “DDG’s my homeboy. We’ve been friends since forever.” You felt smug stating the fact.

Gasps of acknowledgement escaped everyone. “Anyway, any tall boy wanna help me?” You looked around; secretly hiding the excitement of seeing your fake ex-boyfriend here.

“Well,” Urban laughed, “the tallest boy happens to be Mr. Harlow over there.” The whole team chuckled under the liquor effect.

Smiling on the inside, yet apprehensive at the same time, you furrowed your brows at him. “Would you mind?”

“Anything for you.” Jack, unable to hide the joy derived from his opportunity to escape this crowd and be with you, shrugged confidently.

“The lights are a bit tangled up there. Can you reach them?” You tentatively asked.

Jack attempted at a few jumps, before shaking his in frustration. “We might need a ladder.”

“I already looked around. Apparently, they didn’t use it.”

“Then climb onto my shoulders.”

His blunt offer startled you. You must have misheard him. “Wh-what?”

“Here,” he crouched down. “Don’t worry, I’ve been working out. My shoulders are strong. Hop on.”

Swallowing your throat one last time, you directed your legs onto its location in need. His fingers rubbed against your thighs; despite the fabric, a sensation went through your spine.

“You good?” Jack looked up; his hands firmly pressed onto your thickness to safeguard you against any mishap.

“Ye-yeah.”

Trying your best to concentrate, you finally managed to solve the problem after a few minutes. “All set.” Hearing the words, Jack gently helped you get down. His puppy eyes were on display somehow, which made you stiff. It had been a while since you last felt awkward. Nonetheless, you patted on his shoulders, “Thank you. You’re always there to help me.”

Suddenly Jack felt his cheeks warm. He shook his head, making his dreads dance, “Nah, it’s nothing.”

“Can I offer you a drink?” You delivered your genuine request.

With a racing heart, Jack nodded with a wide grin.

- - -

“Wow, that’s strong,” Jack commented as he bolted down the liquor.

You chuckled slightly, “DDG’s very serious with his drinks, so yeah.”

As his hand put down the blue glass, you noticed a feature on his handsome face that completely astounded you. His porcelain skin was more visible now. “You did shave.”

The statement got Jack giggling, “Come on. You didn’t mean this shave, did you? You meant-”

“HEY-” you quickly stopped him from further, “I’m just surprised you did listen. Where you shaved doesn’t matter.”

Jack shifted in his seat, before leaning in to match your eye level. “You know I’m whipped for you, babygirl.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, not because of the fact that you were annoyed, but that Jack was comfortably again to be flirty around you. Your memory swiftly flashbacked to night of the Met, recalling his bashful actions towards you.

“How are you feeling?” You diverted the gaze to the floor, which was filled with people preparing to get the ball rolling.

Jack did not follow your gaze. Instead, he was focused on you. “I’m in my element. The atmosphere here is such a vibe.” He watched how your head nodded in agreement with his opinion, how the outfit you had on was complimenting your complexion and figure, how your aura was radiating through.

Jack was suddenly reminded of his promise to Urban. He was gonna win you back. The opportunity had appeared. He thanked the universe mentally for this unexpected occasion. He had not figured out how to approach this seemingly ambitious plant; yet something inside him knew that he would get what he wanted. Or, who, to be precise.

Again, he found his insides hyperventilating.

“Y/n?” His voice was soft.

“Hm?” You turned to him, unknowingly giving him the innocent look you always had when you were clueless. Your round pupils caught him speechless. No matter how many times Jack had seen this expression, he still struggled to be eloquent upon seeing it. Maybe, it reminded him of one of many reasons he fell for you in the first place. Jack had always perpetuated his type in interviews with a naïve assumption that such an ideal being was out of reach for him. Yet, here you were, sitting inches away from him, tilting your head curiously as to what he had to say.

“I’m here, Jay.” Seeing his dazed reaction, your mouth muttered the nickname that would comfort him.

Getting out of his thoughts, Jack shook his head. “Yeah, it’s nothing.”

“Are you sure? If you’re tired, I can get you home.” You touched his forehead to examine any unusual heat anomaly.

God, this is why I love you. Jack screamed in his mind. Your instant caring mode had always earned a special place in his heart.

“Nah, I’m good. Oh, the party’s beginning. Let’s go.”

Little did Jack know you were having the same thoughts as him during the brief chit-chat.

After you parted your way with Jack, the party was getting in motion fast. Famous figures of the Rap Industry soon occupied the room, with some accompanied by their stunning women and men. You got the chance to greet a number of prominent OG rappers; you were jubilantly ineloquent when they told you how much they loved your work. “The future needs people like you, Y/n.” was an encouragement that washed over your soul like a rain of magic dust.

As the summer hits were blasting on the speakers, complemented by the professional remixes of the DJ, every participant was having a whale of time under the bewitching lights. The ambience aligned perfectly with the breezy weather outside. While enjoying yourself, you proudly glanced around the room to see the riot of colors brought by the partygoers.

Quality music, quality place, and quality people. Now, this, is life.

“Attention please, ladies and gentlemen.” DDG’s voice on the microphone captured the crowd’s attention. You, standing with your team and JB, turned around to the upper stage.

“First of all, thank you everyone so much for turning up tonight. I really appreciate it. Secondly, shout out to Y/n, JB and their team for their contribution to this setting!”

Once your names were mentioned, rounds of applause and lights followed to your spot. You smiled widely, hands resting on your chest for the appreciation.

“The last two years were a madness, no doubt. But that’s coming to an end. That is why I want everyone here tonight to enjoy yourselves as much as possible. It’s our night. Live your best night tonight!” He exclaimed loudly, earning multiple cheers from the crowd.

“Before the short talk ends, I wanna bring my new friend Jack Harlow over there up stage. He’s gonna present his people and have a few words too.”

Needless to say, that name sent electricity through everyone. Including you. You were extremely perplexed, what could this man possibly say? What needed to be delivered, you believed, was successfully conducted by DDG.

As Jack stepped on stage, your heart could not help but run its own marathon championship. The chills down your spine brought you back to the times when you went to his shows during your fake dating phase. It was this exact moment, seeing his broad figure entering the upper ground, your breath automatically held itself. You fingers turned stiff, and your mind sent lovesick neurons down to your chest, as if pushing your heart to rip out the ribcage. You remembered this sensation, this apprehension and this feeling. This particular feeling. One that only surfaced when you witnessed Jack being the most authentic version of himself as a rapper on stage.

“DDG is my dawg right here. Thanks so much for this, brother.” Jack began with his appreciative gesture towards DDG, who was now standing out of the limelight. “As DG said, the time has changed. And we’re here to celebrate that. For most of us here, we are still young, wild and free. We still have a road, a future ahead of us. So tonight, there’s only one thing I wish everyone will do now. If you love something, chase it. If you love someone, tell them.” He smoothly delivered his talk, eyes meeting every audience.

“Life is too short for being scared. Live your life, chase your passion and tell that girl you love her.” With his last words, his ocean eyes landed on yours.

- - -

“This one is for my homies,” DDG announced.

As soon as his voice left the microphone, “8Teen” was on.

The familiar beat swirled your heart, bringing back the memories. JB shook you violently, “Oh my god, this song!” You returned the same nostalgic happiness by pulling him out into the center of the dance floor. “Our song!” You proclaimed loudly, before being joined by your inner circle.

Together, eyes closed, you went hand in hand, locking each other in love and affection. You collectively vibed to the rhythm and sang the lyrics without messing up a word. You felt young and alive; your mind running back that old movie with your 18-year-old friends. You all had changed, in one way or another, yet the loving bond was still there, manifesting itself in these affectionate embraces.

Amid the crowd who was dancing along enthusiastically, Jack watched you as his body swung along the beat. This was the first time he saw you being this recklessly happy. While most of the time you oozed decency, tonight you were your truest self, at the age of 21 blossoming beautifully, ecstatically singing your heart and moving your body to the music.

Jack looked at you fondly. Seeing you this happy softened his heart.

Then, for a split second, your eyes met his.

The unnerving sensations of the Met Gala surged inside your hearts again.

As the circle disintegrated for more people to join in, you ran to his place and pulled him in. The song was on its second verse.

“Come on, dance with me,” you smiled into his ears.

Jack, flustered and overwhelmed by your impulsive action, brought his hands to your waist and swayed his body along with yours.

With your hands wrapped on his neck, you replicated the same enchanting dance that night. You did not care about anything, or anyone else at this moment. You knew exactly what you wanted right now. This sensation of being certain about your desires was addictive; it felt like the intoxicating sensation of success. Except this time, there was no success. It was love.

You and Jack drowned in each other’s eyes, scents and feelings. Your lips matched his as you two sang along to the song.

'Cause I was eighteen

And I still lived with my parents

Yeah they're not like yours

Well yours were more understanding’

You stopped abruptly to giggle at his goofy expression, only to be confronted with a confession.

One that was gladly granted in the right place, and at the right time.

‘I never fell in love

I saved those feelings for you

When we did all the stupid shit that young kids do

Just me and you’

Despite the boisterous music, you felt as if you could hear every single beat of his heart. Likewise, Jack could tell something shifted inside you. Both of you were commotions. A storm of feelings invaded your minds and hearts. The suffocating choke of emotion, the breathtaking gasp of realization, and the longing eyes of love; all was flowing on your bodies. While his lips parted with anxiety, yours parted with clarity. For the next five seconds, you decided to follow your heart.

Your mouth sang along the next words.

‘Let's do all the stupid shit that young kids do

It's me and you’

Your hands caressed his cheeks, your feet lifted their heels. You muttered one last time breathlessly the word, ‘You’ before bringing your lips to his.

Jack gave in immediately, melting into your brave action with all his might. Your bodies stopped moving; the kiss felt like an eternity. Neither of you knew how each other taste; yet the kiss tasted so familiar. It felt like longing stares, suppressed feelings and late confessions. His lips were soft, yours were wet; together they merged like long lost lovers who were finally united by destiny.

As you slowly pulled away, Jack finished the lyrics. ‘Just me and you.’

You blushed and looked away; yet Jack touched your chin and redirected your flustered expression to his face. A slight ting of shyness was occupying you. Yet Jack, having earned his long-awaited confirmation of your love, heartily kickstarted his last step of the mission.

“Y/n, be mine?”

The question brought a jerk from your chest. Your eyes suddenly felt sore. Your throat refused to operate. You buried your head in his embrace, nodding tentatively. You knew that even if your voice was functional, nothing would come out. For Jack, upon receiving the acceptance he was dying for, squeezed you into his broad figure. His lips met your forehead; his hands firmly planted on your back. As you plucked up the bravery to adore his eyes, a tear dropped onto your cheek. You gasped once again, which was soon followed by the same reaction from yourself.

Though flushed by his own scorching tears, Jack wiped yours off with this thumb. You and him finally let out a relieved laugh, breathless and sentimental all the same. Your eyes never left each other. Your orbs were tinkling, so were Jack’s. Every burden, every unsaid feeling, every doubtful thought, everything was now lifted. Love was finally free.

While you and him were lost in your own universe, everyone spectated the scene. It resembled that scene in a romantic coming-of-age plot, where fate and coincidence collided.

- - -

Next morning, Jack’s Instagram account uploaded a picture.

It featured your first kiss together, captured in the blinding lights of last night.

Under it attached a three-word caption, “Mission Rekindle: Accomplished.”

#jack harlow #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow x reader #fake dating trope #imagine

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brrahbrrahcharacterimagines · 3 years ago

Text

Quickie (Might Guy x Reader) *Smut*

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Might Guy x Reader

Word Count: 2192

Warnings: Alcohol, swearing, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), quickie, dirty talk, praise kink, lots of dirty sex things

A/N: oop and again my thirstiness reaches over 2000 words... enjoy

Your week couldn't have been much worse. You were only assigned low-ranking missions despite your skill. Instead of going off to save the leaf village, you saved a cat from a tree and pulled weeds. It couldn't have gotten much lower than that.

It isn't that you aren't powerful. Your jutsu is on par with the likes of Guy or Kakashi, so you don't know why you drew the short stick this week.

On top of that, on your way home from the store you dropped an armful of groceries and apples rolled across the street in front of a group of civilians. Already not liking to be looked at so often in your uniform, looking clumsy while people watched was somewhat of a final straw. When Kakashi told you he was getting a group together to go out, you didn't hesitate to say yes.

A couple of your colleagues were already at the bar when you got there, but none of your close friends. You made your way to the counter, calling the bartender over.

"Can I get a tequila sunrise? Extra tequila?" You ask the man behind the counter. He chuckles back, nodding and making your drink.

Handing it over to you, the drink doesn't stay in your hand for long. After a while you've had a second, and before you knew it you were ready to hit the dance floor. You glanced back over towards the other Shinobi, seeing Kakashi finally made it. You smiled at him with a little wave before making your way to the floor.

You let the music take hold of your body, the bass becoming your heartbeat as you moved to the rhythm. You didn't mind dancing alone, it was freeing. It was as if you were letting go of all the stresses of the week. You moved your hips back and forth to the beat, flipping your hair every so often. You felt hot.

Guy didn't want to go out tonight. He'd told Kakashi he wasn't feeling it, but Kakashi could be more persistent than just about anyone. All Kakashi had to do was tell Guy that he could outdrink him, and Guy had to show up just to prove him wrong.

Walking in, Guy noticed pretty much everyone was already there. he made his way to Kakashi, taking note of the glass of water in front of him.

"Waiting on me to start our competition?" Asked guy with a confident smile.

"Oh, hey Guy!" Said Kakashi with a wave. While his tone was cheerful, Guy sensed a note of sarcasm underneath. "I guess you'll win tonight, I'm the sober monitor tonight."

Damn it, thought Guy, he got me.

Deciding to enjoy himself anyway, Guy ordered some sake to get started. Looking around, he noticed a member of the party was missing. He knows Kakashi had asked you to come, but when he didn't find you at the table he figured you had decided not to come after all.

That's when he caught a glimpse of (h/c) hair from the dance floor. You were nearly straight in front of him, dancing without a care in the world. You had a smile on your face, lost in the music. Guy couldn't help but stare at you. You looked so...

Youthful.

He had always admired your skills in taijutsu. He liked the fact that you valued it in the same way that he did. Yet, he felt something more than just admiration when he looked at you tonight. Looking at you out on the dance floor, Guy couldn't help but notice just how attractive you were. His eyes made their way up and down the curves of your body, lingering on your chest to admire the fact that you had chosen to wear a low-cut dress tonight.

Lower down, he stared at the way you swung your body to the beat. The way your hips moved were almost sinful.

Guy cleared his throat, turning away. He felt a blush rise to his cheeks, hoping nobody saw in the dim light. Unluckily for him, as soon as he turned away he came face to face with Kakashi.

"See something you like?" He teased. Guy could only feel his blush growing stronger as he tried to stammer out an acceptable response. Kakashi just chuckled at his coworker. "Go say hi. It's not like she's a stranger."

Not one to let Kakashi get the last laugh, Guy decided to actually follow through with his joking advice.

You had no idea how long you had been dancing. The songs flowed one to the next, seamless transitions making sure you would have no idea how many songs passed as you danced the night away.

"May I join you?" Asked a familiar voice, jolting you from your trance.

"Guy!" You exclaimed, turning around to face him. Your breathless smile made his heart skip a beat, but you didn't notice. "I'm glad you made it."

Guy returned your smile, "I didn't know you would be here. I'm happy I was wrong."

You continued moving, more mindful of your colleague in front of you. He was a really good dancer, which wasn't all that surprising. In many ways taijutsu is a dance in itself, and his skill with it could explain his skill in moving his body now.

The two of you danced together, keeping a respectable distance. That was, until, you saw a mischievous glint cross his eye. Guy began walking away, and you had to admit you were sad to see him go. You turned your thoughts back to the song, moving in time to the rhythm as you assumed he walked away. Then you felt them on you.

His hands.

You felt two large hands grab you by the hips. It would have scared you had you not recognized the green sleeves around the wrists.

Your breath caught in your throat, causing a smile to rise to Guy's face even though you couldn't see it. He began moving in time with you, swaying to the beat behind you. He was almost tantalizingly close to you, and you felt your breath get heavier. How had you never noticed him like this before?

The song transitioned to the next, the pace a bit faster. You took a leap of faith.

Leaning forward just enough, you shook your hips from side to side without moving Guy's hands. You felt them grab onto you tighter, only spurring you on as you began to grind against your fellow ninja.

At first you tried to ignore it, but soon it was impossible not to feel his hardening cock against your ass. It would be a lie to say it wasn't only spurring you to continue. It was hard to deny the way his reaction was making you feel, a tingle shooting down to your core.

You had just started to get into it when he used his grip on you to force you upright again.

You felt your heart drop. Maybe you shouldn't have done that.

"Meet me in the bathroom in five minutes." Said Guy into your ear, the roughness of his voice making you lust for the man even more. Admittedly, you watched as he walked away. He winked at you before sauntering off, the muscles on his back defined as he turned away from you.

Five minutes couldn't pass by fast enough.

Guy entered the bathroom, taking a deep breath once he was inside. He didn't know what had come over him, but he needed you. He needed you bad, and he needed you now. His head was spinning just thinking about it, and he'd barely had a cup of sake. The way you felt under his hands, and pressed up against him, was what was making him feel this way.

He was never this needy. Guy was always the one to have this effect on women, never the other way around. Sure, he'd had plenty of experience. But he had never been so desperate for the bathroom door to open and see you standing there.

As the minutes passed, he began to worry if it had been a mistake. What if you weren't coming? You could be with the rest of your friends right now, laughing about what he had just said to you. He pushed the thought to the back of his mind. You weren't like that. Right?

He heard the bathroom door swing open, the quiet click of a lock accompanying its close.

"Hey," you said.

You mentally smacked yourself at your word choice. That's really all you could come up with?

Looking up at Guy, you knew you looked needy. Lust overwhelmed your senses as you took in his strong physique. He made his way towards you, leaning down towards your lips. You eyes fluttered shut.

"Hey," he said. You opened your eyes to see a cocky smile plastered on his face.

"Shut up," you replied, not caring much for his teasing as you smashed your lips to his. As soon as you did he wrapped his arms around you tightly, kissing you back hungrily. You couldn't help but moan into his mouth at the feeling, only spurring him on.

You grabbed at his chest, using a fistful of his uniform to try and pull him even closer to you. His hands wandered lower, pulling up the short skirt of your dress to grope your ass. He growled lowly, kneading at the soft flesh.

Guy's lips moved downwards to the side of your neck, kissing a trail until he found your sweet spot. He stopped, sucking, biting, and kissing as all you could do was moan for him. You knew you would have to explain the hickey to your team later, but right now you didn't care. All you cared about was how good it felt to have Guy's lips on your body.

Your own hands wandered lower on Guy's body, palming his erection through his pants. He wasn't even fully hard yet, and you could feel how big he was. He bucked his hips towards you as you continued jacking him off through the fabric that felt way too thick for your liking.

Guy reached down, and in one swift movement your panties were on the ground. You felt his calloused hands run up your inner thighs, sending a shiver up your spine.

You gasped, feeling his fingers make their way to your soft folds as his lips found their way back to your own

"You're so fucking wet for me baby," he mumbled against you lips, "I bet this is what you wanted, wasn't it?"

You didn't say anything at first, taken by surprise at his dirty talk. It wasn't something you expected out of Guy, but you weren't complaining.

He pushed a finger into your hold, making you moan. You rolled your hips against his hand, practically begging for more. He gave you just that, starting to pump two fingers in and out of your dripping pussy.

"Guy," you moaned. He felt his dick twitch at the way his name fell from your lips. He was sure you'd be the death of him if you kept this up.

"God baby," he said, "you're so tight."

His tongue explored you mouth as he kept fingering you, curling his fingers inside in a way that only made you want him more.

"Turn around for me." You did as he asked, turning around so that your ass was on display for him. You braced your arms on the wall, feeling Guy press himself up behind you. "Good girl," he whispered in your ear.

You heard clothes ruffle as he undressed enough to get his cock out. You barely had any warning before he pulled up your dress and shoved his hard cock into your soaking cunt.

"Fuck Guy!" You gasped. You could feel his thrust falter at your words, only making you more confident. You pushed your hips back towards him. He gave you a moment to regain your breath, pulling out just enough to slam back into you.

He started off hard and fast, and you were already seeing stars. You wouldn't last very long if he kept this up, and you suspected neither would he.

"I'm already so fucking close baby," you groan, "your cock feels so fucking good." He groaned in response, continuing to fuck you until it was all you could think about. With every thrust he hit deep inside of you, making you closer and closer to your release. Your moans grew louder as you felt the pressure build up inside you. "God you're gonna make me cum," you moaned, almost screaming as you hit your high.

Your walls clenched around Guy's dick, pushing him over the edge as he spilled his seed inside of you. You didn't even care that he didn't pull out, too busy riding out your own orgasm.

After a moment, he pulled out of you and re-dressed himself.

"I'll see you around," he said with a wink, leaving you in the bathroom to process what had just happened. You knew this would be far from the last time.

MASTERLIST

#might gai x reader #might guy x reader #might guy #maito gai x reader #maito guy x reader #maito guy #might guy smut #guy smut #guy sensei x reader #guy sensei smut #maito guy smut #might guy x reader smut #maito guy x reader smut

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caffeinatedbraincell · 3 years ago

Note

So you asked about prompts? ;D What about Joe/Nicky + any team member cuddling for warmth? Or something about all of them sharing clothes? Huge bonus if Lykon is still part of the Guard ❤️❤️❤️

Thank you anon for the ask!! 💕 This took forever but here it is~

Read on AO3

“Whose idea was this, again?” Joe complained, readjusting the weight of the front half of the giant plastic evergreen. He was sweating and freezing at the same time, which was decidedly one of his least favorite feelings ever.

“Yeah, I wonder,” Quynh seconded from behind him, throwing Andy a dirty look.

Andy sauntered hands-free in front of them, talking animatedly with Nicky and Lykon as they walked. The three of them clearly loved the snow, though Joe doubted they would be having even half as much fun if they had to carry the tree.

Quynh spat out some plastic pine needles. “Andromache! It’s your turn to carry this, come here!”

“Pleeease babe, we’re almost home!”

“Yeah,” Nicky interjected. “Besides, we have to carry the presents!” He waved the small, sparkly gift bag at them before pointedly turning back around.

Joe muttered something in Arabic about lazy spouses with nice asses, and Quynh cackled.

“Alright, alright,” Lykon interjected, jumping in front to get everyone’s attention. “Booker just texted me that he’s managed to get Nile out of the house under the pretext of, and I quote, ‘the snowball duel of the century.’ They’re going to the mountain pass, so we have two hours to get set up.”

“Perfetto,” Nicky said. “It’ll take me about twenty minutes to get the cookies in the oven, and then I’ll help decorate the tree.”

“You better get out in less than twenty,” Quynh warned. “When am I supposed to work? Do you even know how long it takes to cook chicken?”

“He doesn’t,” Joe confirmed.

“Habibi, that’s not fair. What about that time I made-”

A long, ominous buzz innervated all of their phones simultaneously. It was an emergency weather alert.

“Blizzard warning until 2:15 AM. All inner city residents are encouraged to shelter in place until further notice. Sudden snowfall and landslides may prove deadly,” Nicky read.

“Lykon, text Booker,” Andy ordered.

“On it.”

“No use,” Nicky cut in. “They’re probably already at the mountain pass. They won’t make it back in time.”

Andy swore loudly. “Joe, get the car. We’re going after them.”

Quynh and Joe dropped the tree and ran towards the house. By the time Joe started the car, Quynh was climbing down the porch steps with an armful of towels. The five of them piled into the car and tore down the icy roads.

The storm picked up with terrifying haste. When they got to the bridge near the mountain pass, visibility was already nearing zero. Joe switched places with Andy, clambering into the passenger seat so she could take the wheel. If anything could help them now, it was Andy’s extensive experience with driving in extreme weather conditions.

As they traveled through the pass, everyone kept their eyes trained on the snowy slopes, looking for any signs of Nile and Booker.

Suddenly, Lykon cried out in horror. Only a few feet away from the road were two motionless bodies, almost fully buried in a snow drift.

“Cazzo!” Nicky yelled, leaping out of the car. “There must have been an avalanche!”

Andy shoved the gearshift into parking and followed, joining the others as they attempted to dig out their friends with their bare hands. About two minutes after the frostbite set in, they were able to pull Nile and Booker free of the drift.

“Why aren’t they waking up?” Lykon asked, a tinge of panic in his voice. Andy rubbed Nile’s wrist as she looked at her watch, attempting to measure a pulse. Nicky tried to do the same for Booker, unconsciously chanting a Hail Mary under his breath.

Quynh stepped forward. “We need to get them back to the car. The heater will warm them up and help dry them off. Come on.”

Joe picked up Nile in his arms, cradling her head. Quynh threw Booker over her shoulders in a fireman’s carry. This time, they noticed neither the weight nor the cold. Their entire focus was on getting their friends home to warmth and safety.

“Joe, your coat,” Andy said as they got to the car. “It’s fleece. Take Nile’s ski jacket off and give her yours.”

Joe obeyed without hesitation, bundling her in his own winter gear and buckling her into the back seat. Meanwhile, Quynh and Nicky used the towels to dry off Booker’s snow coat as best as they could. Lykon climbed into the passenger seat, and Andy began to drive.

Thankfully, the storm didn’t get worse on their way back (though Joe seriously doubted it could get worse). By the time Andy pulled into their driveway, Nile and Booker were beginning to stir.

“Hey, easy now,” Lykon soothed, helping a dazed Booker out of the car. “Let’s get you inside. There we go, you’re okay. Just a little farther.”

Behind them, Nile leaned heavily on Quynh as she half-carried her up the porch steps. Joe paused, watching them enter.

“All okay?” Andy asked, placing a hand on his shoulder as the wind whipped the snow around them.

“The tree…” Joe muttered, fazed. “I dropped it somewhere. We were going to surprise Nile, and I-”

Andy turned him gently to face her, pulling his woolen beanie down to cover his ears.

“It’s alright, love,” she said softly, switching to Arabic. “She needs a different kind of comfort from us now. She and Booker both. Let’s go take care of them, okay?”

Joe nodded, following her into the warmth of their home.

A fire blazed happily in the hearth. Someone had expanded their futon and pulled it closer to the fireplace. Nile and Booker were seated on it now, wearing large, clean sweatpants - Nicky’s sweatpants, Joe noticed - and fuzzy Christmas sweaters. Quynh and Lykon were snuggled up on either side of them, feeding them something from a thermos flask and adjusting the heated blankets.

“Room for two more?” Andy grinned, curling up next to Quynh and gesturing at Joe to sit. “What’s that?” Joe asked, sliding under Lykon’s side of the blanket and pointing at the steaming drink in the thermos.

“I made apple cider earlier and left it in the instant pot,” Lykon replied. “It was still hot.”

Lykon held the drink to Nile’s lips. She took a large sip, sighing happily. Joe made a mental note to pour himself some cider if he ever got out from under this heated blanket.

Just then, Nicky walked out of the kitchen, balancing a large tray in his hands. “Soup time! Everyone sit up, let’s eat.”

Joe blinked, wondering how his husband had had the presence of mind to immediately go into the kitchen and make soup, of all things. He himself was still recovering from the last hour’s ordeal.

Nicky tutted disapprovingly. “Boss, get changed. Joe, you too. Why would you think it’s a good idea to get under an electric blanket in wet clothes?”

Andy grimaced, throwing her jacket and t-shirt on the floor and snuggling up to Quynh in just her bra. Quynh tugged Andy closer.

Nicky turned to Joe, raising an eyebrow. “Habibi?”

Joe pulled a face. “Do you have any sweatpants left for me?”

“Always.” Nicky ruffled Joe’s curls. “My gray university ones are in the dryer. They’ll still be warm if you hurry.”

Joe got up, returning two minutes later in the gray sweatpants and a black tank top he stole off of Andy’s dresser. He hastily dove back under Lykon’s heated blanket.

In the middle of the couch, swaddled in blankets and eating soup, Nile and Booker were looking much more alive. The color returned to their cheeks, intensifying as Nicky began to scold them.

“Booker, what the fuck were you thinking?” he demanded.

“I don’t know! You said to distract Nile, and she wanted to have a snowball fight. So I said yes!”

“Why didn’t you just go to the park?”

“I thought driving out to the mountain pass would buy you guys more time. It was a bad idea. I’m sorry.”

“You could have died, Book! Just because we’re immortal doesn’t mean we can play with our lives like that. Not to mention, you put Nile in danger!”

Quynh sat up, reaching for Nicky’s hands. She swiped her thumbs over his knuckles in a soothing gesture. “Hey, lay off him, would you? They’ve had a tough night.”

“But what if-”

“No what-ifs, Nicky. It’s alright. They’re safe. Now put the rest of that soup down and come here.”

Nicky sighed in secret gratitude. This was not a night he wanted to be left to follow his thoughts. “Fine.”

He squeezed onto the futon between Quynh and Nile, accepting the blanket Andy threw over him. He wrapped his arms around Nile, who snuggled closer.

“Nicky?” she mumbled after a moment.

“Hmm?”

“If you’re not still angry, can I ask you a question?”

Nicky pulled back to look at her. “Sorellina, I’m so sorry. I was never angry at you. Nor at Booker, really. Just a bit worried.”

“Yeah,” Joe piped up from the other end of the couch. “He gets mean when he’s scared.”

“I am not mean,” Nicky insisted. “Nile, what was it you wanted to ask?”

“Why did Booker say you wanted him to distract me? Distract me from what?”

Lykon laughed. “Should we tell her, Nicky, or do we plan to try again tomorrow?”

“We lost the tree, so I think we should just tell her,” Joe voted sleepily.

“You just don’t want to carry another tree,” Booker accused.

“Easy for you to say!” Quynh jumped in. “Next time, I’ll distract her, and you can walk a mile in the snow with plastic pine needles in your face.”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Andy said, lips twitching. “No more attempts. Jesus wasn’t actually born on this day, anyway. I was there.”

Nicky blinked at her, and then rapidly shook his head to clear it. He looked at Nile. “We were trying to surprise you with a Christmas party. Remember last Thursday, when you were telling us how your family celebrated it back home?”

“Yeah.”

“We wanted to recreate all the same traditions. We got a tree, and some ornaments, and stockings with your initials on it, and, uh…”

“Presents! And that Christmas music you like,” Joe added.

“Yes, and Nicky was going to make cookies shaped like reindeer,” Quynh said.

“Also,” Lykon pointed to a folded-up tripod in the corner, “we were going to take family photos in our sweaters and put them on postcards. Copley said we can’t send them to anyone, but we could still make some.”

Booker sighed. “Sorry I ruined it, Nile. I thought- wait, are you crying?!”

Nile sniffled, turning away from Booker to tuck her face under the blanket. “No.”

“Oh, honey,” Quynh cooed. We can still do it all tomorrow, if you want…”

“It’s not that,” Nile croaked. “It’s just- You guys did all that just to surprise me?”

“It’s nothing,” Nicky assured. “Well, it’s really nothing now, but even if everything had gone according to plan, it still wouldn’t have been any trouble. It’s your first Christmas with us, and we wanted it to be memorable.”

“You’re the best,” Nile said, voice choked with emotions. “All of you. And this is the best Christmas Eve ever. Thank you.”

“Hush,” Andy smirked. “In this house, we show gratitude by not dying unnecessarily.”

“Oh, that was all Booker’s fault,” Nile countered smoothly. “I would have been content with a snowball fight in the park.”

“Really loving the underside of this bus,” Booker muttered as the others laughed.

Over the next hour, the lighthearted conversation drifted into sleepy silence. By the time Nicky thought to ask who would turn off the lights, Joe was only half-pretending to be fast asleep.

#the old guard #joe x nicky #fanfiction #kavi writes #tog fanfic #fluff #hurt/comfort #found family #platonic cuddling #holiday season #lykon #nile freeman #andy #booker #yusuf al kaysani #nicolo di genova #quynh #yes quynh is alive as well!!

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lalainajanes · 3 years ago

Text

For “neighborhood block party” on my bingo card! This one takes place in the same universe as Sweet As (quirky supernatural small town fic in which Caroline’s a dryad who owns a bakery and Klaus is the leader of the local werewolf pack and mates are a thing ;) ) though it’s more of a prequel.

The Fall Festival

Before he’d met Caroline, Klaus’ mornings had fallen into a predictable pattern.

He would wake up at the same time, wander into his kitchen to find a full pot of coffee and a pack member or two. Occasionally, there was an emergency. Sometimes there was an issue where his opinion was wanted. Most often, his visitors would come with a problem that could have been solved without Klaus’ input, though he’d never complained.

Klaus had been an outsider once, had become pack leader when the father he’d never known had died, and Marcel had shown up at his door in Chicago. At the time, Klaus had resented the disruption to his life.

Now, he doesn’t understand how he’d survived so long, locking himself in a cage every month.

His mother had explained his parentage when he’d turned twelve, and it had been revelatory, explained why he’d always struggled to wield even a hint of the power that came naturally to his siblings. Esther had told him what to expect, that he’d be dangerous, but she’d refused to tell Klaus anything about the man who’d passed him the werewolf genes, hadn’t even supplied a name.

The rift in their relationship had begun there, had only widened since. When Klaus had chosen to accept his birthright, he’d ensured he’d never be welcome in the home he’d grown up in. He’d never regretted it.

Most of his siblings happily defy their parents to visit, and the pack had become another sort of family.

Three months after Caroline had opened her shop, Klaus had trekked out into the forest to deal with one of the rare emergencies. A scent had been picked up on a security run two days prior, of a young, unfamiliar wolf.

A wolf who proved to have a gift for hiding.

Klaus and his inner circle had been trying to track the interloper, had to find them before the next full moon. His pack had long-standing agreements with the humans and the various local supernatural sects. A young wolf could have jeopardized the easy peace the town enjoyed without meaning to. Klaus and his pack would have had to pay the price.

Young wolves could not always assert human will over animal instincts, which could be deadly if any prey crossed their paths.

And to a werewolf, just about anyone can be prey.

That morning Klaus had decided to head west to an area of that woods that was dense with trees and wildlife. His pack usually leaves it be, understanding that there would be objections if they were to start messing with the local ecosystems. Besides, it offers little opportunity to run, something a werewolf is always eager to do when given a chance.

He’d been moving slowly and silently, examining the ground for prints that looked similar to the ones they believe belong to the young wolf. He’d frequently paused to see if he could pick up a scent, but he’d grown distracted.

Klaus had come across a grove of trees emanating a strange warmth. Curious, he’d rested his hand on the trunk of one.

Only to have the rough bark shiver under his touch and melt away, growing soft and smooth and scented of cherries and spice rather than earth.

He’d snatched his hand back and turned away as soon as he’d realized what was happening, had awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, and wondered if it would be cowardly to flee. He’d heard rustling, soft footsteps, the glide of fabric over skin. Then a woman’s voice, dripping with amusement, “You can turn around now. I’m dressed.”

Klaus had turned slowly. “My apologies. I was unaware I was trespassing.” He’d averted his eyes, realizing that “dressed” wasn’t entirely accurate. The woman had only slipped on a robe, a pale green confection of a garment made from silk and lace, loosely belted and short. He’d looked closely enough to realize she was gorgeous, with a riotous mess of blonde curls framing a flushed face and friendly, curious blue eyes.

His body had reacted, and Klaus had forced himself to begin breathing through his mouth. Her scent had clouded his thoughts, tempted him to step closer.

He hadn’t understood what was happening, why he was reacting so strongly to a stranger.

Klaus might have grown particular about who he invited into his bed, but he was hardly inexperienced or prone to awkwardness in the presence of beautiful women.

He’d gone a little wild when he’d become pack leader five years ago, had freely partaken in pleasure just about any time it was offered. Offers were still coming, but Klaus had largely lost interest, leery of complications that could occur with attachments. At the time, he’d only occasionally indulged when an alluring visitor caught his eyes.

Which hadn’t happened in months.

Why was this woman, not even a wolf, so very compelling?

When he’d clasped his hands behind his back and carefully fixed his attention to just above her forehead, she’d made a noise, an aborted laugh. “Wow, never met a shy werewolf before. You guys are usually super quick to get naked.”

Klaus’ eyes had swung to hers, shocked and a touch suspicious, “How do you know I’m a werewolf?”

Her head had tilted towards the trees, “It’s hard to explain. When I’m in that form, connected to the ground, there’s a heightened amount of intuition. Most supernatural beings pull power from some variety of natural elements, and I can usually tell which one, feel the energy.”

“You’re a dryad,” he’d said slowly. He’d remembered reading about them as a child, in one of his mother’s books. An old, thick tome, with tiny print, that detailed the origin stories of all the known species that walked the earth. He hadn’t recalled much more than the basics, had made a mental note to check if the library in his home had a similar volume.

“Guilty,” she’d chirped. She’d held out her hand, “Caroline Forbes. I bought the bakery in town a couple of months ago. You should stop by sometime.”

He’d shaken her hand, that contact enough to ensure Caroline would never stray from Klaus’ thoughts for long.

That brief brush of her skin on his had spurred a change in Klaus’ morning pattern.

He’d visited Caroline’s bakery the next day. Had rolled out of bed, earlier than he had since he’d been obligated to attend morning meetings, and driven to town. Caroline’s business had been easy to spot, featuring a cheerful striped awning in the same shade of green of the robe Klaus had spent far too many minutes contemplating.

He’d slid into a booth shortly after Caroline had opened up. She’d noticed him, appeared pleased to see him and wiggled her fingers in greeting.

And thus began a new routine.

* * * * *

Caroline smiles at Klaus as soon as he arrives. His face immediately grows suspicious.

Oops. She might have overdone it. Klaus is weirdly adept at spotting ulterior motives, and Caroline needs a teeny, tiny favor.

Which is not to say that she doesn’t look forward to his morning visits. More often than not, they’re the highlight of her day. She happens to have gotten a delivery late yesterday afternoon, one that’s essential to pulling off something she’s been working on for ages, so she’s particularly excited about it. She needs to borrow Klaus’ artistic skills to realize her vision.

That she’ll get to spend a little extra time with him is just a bonus.

He walks up to the counter and leans against it. “You look like you’re plotting something.”

She tilts her head to the side, uses her sweetest tone, “Don’t you think it’s a little early to be accusing me of such a thing?”

She spots the twitch at the corner of his mouth though he maintains an impressively deadpan expression. “Honestly, I suspect you’re usually plotting something.”

Caroline had to give him that one, “Okay, true. I might need a hand from someone who’s more artistically inclined than I am. AKA you.”

“What can I do for you?”

She smiles again, kind of glad that there’s a counter between them because Klaus’ lack of hesitation has her feeling all sorts of fuzzy things, and she very well might have thrown herself at him.

Which is not a thing that they do, though she’s hoping that changes at some point.

“I bought some lights and paint for the window. I splurged on it because it’s supposed to be really pretty, kind of sheer, and shimmery. I was hoping to paint some leaves and vines around the borders of the window, but my test runs were… subpar.”

“Still a bit upset about the Summer Solstice party then?”

Caroline glares without any real ire, “Shh. You know that’s a sore subject!”

She’d been woefully unprepared for just how serious the town took its celebrations. The Summer Solstice had been her first one. She’d nailed the food, had baked up tiny, fluffy meringues, served them with a vanilla peach compote, topped with fresh whipped cream and toasted almonds. Everyone had raved about them. But a few people – mostly the members of the town council who are generally unpleasant and excessively gossipy, in Caroline’s not at all biased opinion – had made snide remarks about her lack of decorations.

She’d been mortified even though it totally hadn’t been her fault. She’d miscalculated, not yet grasping just freaking slow the mail was. She’d had a ton of fresh flowers, but the paper lanterns and candy-colored trays and linens she’d ordered had arrived two days too late.

Caroline’s determined to do better this time and prove that party planning is her super-power, damn it.

Klaus is shrugging out of his jacket, “Show me to the supplies, love.”

“You’re the best!” she exclaims, reaching over to flip up the top of the counter. “Come on, it’s all in my office. Along with my very bad diagrams but feel free only to use them as a guideline. Far be it for little ‘ol me to tell a professional artiste what to paint.”

“Willing to cede control?” he teases. “Shocking.”

Caroline shrugs, “Guess I must trust you.”

Whoops. Caroline means it, but it’s a weighty thing to say.

Klaus has stepped passed the counter, bent to stash his jacket underneath. He freezes, head bowing before he up back at her. “I’m pleased to hear that,” he replies.

Caroline’s teeth sink into her lower lip, and she glances around. A few people are watching her curiously and, though she hates it, she knows now is not the time to dig into anything serious.

Though she’s not sure how much longer she’ll be able to resist.

Caroline clears her throat, heading to her office. She unlocks the door, stepping back to gesture Klaus go in first. She turns around to check that April’s come out from the kitchen, motions that she’ll be back out in ten, and then she joins Klaus.

He’s eyeing the sofa, “How often do you sleep here, sweetheart?”

“How do you… oh, right. Werewolf.”

Caroline’s pretty careful not to think about Klaus’ senses. Intellectually she knows he can probably sniff out all sorts of secrets, that the way she reacts to him is entirely unsubtle. She lives in purposeful denial to avoid melting into a puddle of mortification.

“Rarely. I did it a lot when I was scrambling to get this place opened. Now it’s pretty much just the night of the full moon, or the odd day when there’s a big complicated order.”

“Why the full moon?”

Caroline snorts, “Has it escaped your notice that you guys pack away a ton of food after the full moon? It’s my most profitable day of the month.”

She leans down and hefts the box of paint. Klaus steps forward, “Here, let me.”

Caroline lets him take it off her hands, “You know I’m probably at least as strong as you are, right?”

“I had read that, yes.” His eyes flit over her speculatively, and not for the first time in his presence, she thinks about how nice it would be if telepathy were in her bag of tricks. She knows what she hopes he’s thinking. Caroline’s been spinning fantasies that run the gamut from sweet and sensual to hot and frantic since Klaus first wandered into her grove. She’s pretty confident her interest is reciprocated, but he gives her mixed signals.

Caroline’s naturally tactile. She tends to crank that up when she’s in flirt mode. Klaus is careful to stay at a polite distance. He doesn’t cringe when she touches him, but he doesn’t touch her back either.

It’s confusing.

Caroline had gotten tipsy and whiny about the situation last weekend at the bar. Bonnie had been sympathetic and knowing, refused to spill what she clearly knew. Bonnie had only said, in that infuriatingly cryptic way witches have, that Caroline would figure it out when the time was right.

She and Bonnie haven’t known each other long, but Caroline had sensed she wouldn’t budge. She’d pouted until Enzo had arrived with shots.

Things had gotten a little hazy after that.

“Ah, so you’re just gentlemanly?” Caroline teases, watching as Klaus sets the box on her desk. He’s focused on it, so she takes the opportunity to ogle a little. His grey t-shirt is thin and snug. She’s going to be thinking about the way his muscles shift underneath it when she’s alone.

“Something like that.”

“Well, never let it be said that Caroline Forbes doesn’t pay her debts. I’ll save you a bunch of the desserts I’m making for the festival. I’ve perfected them over the last few days – pumpkin with pecan crumble, a delicious marriage of the best fall pies.”

He shakes his head, a laugh rumbling from low in his throat. “Sounds delicious. Perhaps you’ll save me a dance? There’s always a bonfire once the shops close down.”

Huh. That seems like an unmistakable signal. One Caroline hadn’t expected.

She swallows her initial instinct, the urge to joke about how Klaus must have decided she doesn’t have cooties after all. Caroline licks her lips, wonders if he can hear that her heartbeat has quickened. “I’ll make sure my dance card has a spot for you.”

* * * * *

Klaus finds Marcel in the living room when he comes downstairs on the night of the fall festival. He stops short, dread growing in his stomach. He’d spoken to Marcel earlier, and he hadn’t mentioned stopping by. “What happened?”

Marcel’s eyes narrow, “Is that a new sweater?”

Klaus doesn’t understand how that’s relevant to Marcel’s presence in his home.

He lifts his eyebrows expectantly, waiting for an answer to his question. Marcel grins, “Alright, not in a talkative mood. Heard. No disaster, don’t worry. I added an extra few cases of wine to the regular order last month, remember? Just here to grab them for the festival.”

Right. The pack operates several businesses but nothing with a storefront in town. On festival nights, the shops on Main Street decorate and offer free food or small gifts to anyone who wanders in. The town council covers the food available in the square, and Klaus’ pack supplies a significant portion of the booze (only fair since Klaus is quite sure they partake more than most). For this one, if he remembers correctly, they’re providing mulled wine and spiked hot chocolate while Enzo’s bar will set up kegs.

Klaus nods, relaxing. He glances at the clock on the wall. “I trust you can handle the delivery yourself?”

“Why, got a hot date? I don’t remember you ever doing much more than making an appearance at one of these things. This eagerness to arrive early is interesting.”

Marcel sounds far too knowing. To an extent, as the pack’s second in command, it’s his job to know Klaus’ business. He suspects what Caroline means to Klaus, that his wolf has chosen her, but Klaus has never confirmed it.

He’s been resisting the pull, exerting iron control over his instincts, maintaining a careful amount of distance even when he ached to return her affectionate overtures. And it’s not because he doesn’t want her, but because the bond is permanent. Unbreakable, once it’s solidified.

Klaus’ path is set. Caroline’s not bound by the same magic, not unless she wants to be.

“Obviously, you have this under control,” Klaus says, spinning on his heel. “Lock the door when you leave.”

Marcel’s laughter follows him out of the house.

* * * * *

Caroline’s nervous. More nervous than she’s ever been before a date, and it’s not even a date. She’d selected her outfit carefully. Her cream sweater dress has a wide neckline that’s prone to slipping off her shoulders. She’d selected dark tights for underneath and thigh-high boots, which are saved from being too risqué for a family-friendly event by their minimal heel.

She’s been getting compliments all evening, had smiled politely. She’d picked the outfit with one person in mind.

At nine, Caroline locks up, rushing into her office to let her hair down and touch up her makeup. A tap on the window comes at 9:06. She tucks a curl behind her ear, takes a deep breath, “You are not fifteen. Get it together,” she mutters to herself before she flicks off the lights.

She waves at Klaus through the window, grabs the small box where she’d packed up the portion of tartlets she’d saved for him and her keys.

Main Street is brighter than usual, street lamps lit and wrapped with strands of tiny white lights. Caroline steps outside, her eyes running over Klaus. He’s changed since this morning into darker jeans and a navy sweater. Is it a date outfit? She kinda thinks so.

“Hi,” Caroline says, impressed it’s not a squeak. She doesn’t trust herself to open with a compliment about how he looks – her brain-to-mouth filter is unreliable even when she’s calm, cool, and collected. Instead, she gestures to the windows, “Your paintings were a hit.”

Klaus doesn’t seem to hear her. He swallows heavily. “You look…” he trails off, but Caroline’s not an idiot. She knows exactly what the tiny ring of gold around his irises means.

Caroline’s grateful for the confirmation that her attraction isn’t at all one-sided. Her cheeks heat, “What, this old thing?”

He reaches for her, and Caroline’s heart stutters, mouth going dry. It’s the first time Klaus has made any sort of move, and it feels like the start of something she’ll want to remember.

Though she’s not capable of explaining that certainty at the moment. Caroline can’t claim to have a quiet mind, she’s capable of laser focus, but there’s usually a whole list of thoughts and questions in the background, each clamoring for attention.

Right now, there’s only Klaus and the shrinking distance between their bodies.

His palm lands on her upper arm, warm even through her sweater. His fingers tighten, skimming down, lingering when they meet the bare skin of her wrist before his palm meets hers.

She exhales shakily, returning the pressure. Caroline sways forward until her knees brush Klaus’, and his free hand clasps hers. He leans forward, and the hint of stubble on his face rasps against her cheek. “You are overwhelmingly lovely,” he murmurs, mouth brushing her temple.

Caroline’s lips part, and she’s seconds away from turning her head and rising to her toes when Klaus takes a half step away. He pivots until they stand shoulder to shoulder. He keeps one of her hands, and Caroline follows his lead when he begins to walk towards the town’s center.

She barely registers her surroundings, couldn’t name any of the people they pass or describe the decorations. She only feels Klaus’ hand, the solid strength of him next to her, is only aware of the addictive mix of comfort and anticipation fizzing through her veins.

He pulls her into his arms when they reach the makeshift dancefloor next to the bonfire.

It doesn’t feel like a first dance.

There’s no awkward shuffling or hesitant hand placement. Klaus’ grip on her changes, fingers threading between hers, and he wraps his arm around her waist. Caroline’s body melts into Klaus’, her hand rising to rest against his chest. She shivers when his head dips, his breath skimming across her bare shoulder.

There’s music, but it’s not important. She and Klaus move together seamlessly, closer than they probably should be in public, lost in their own world.

No one dares to disturb them.

#klaroline #klarosummerbingo #klaroline fanfiction

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bugsbucky · 4 years ago

Text

DITTO

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You and Bucky are on a mission and forced to share the king sized bed. Which wouldn’t usually have been a problem if you and Bucky didn’t hate each other’s guts.

Warnings: teasing, flirting, possibly some sexual tension, enemies to lovers, language, foreplay, implied smut.

Word Count: 1,651 (ooops)

Authors Notes: this is for @the-ss-horniest-book-club 24 Hour Surprise Drabble in collaboration with @the-ce-horniest-book-club / @the-th-horniest-book-club and @the-mcu-horniest-book-club. Today’s theme was Tropes and I picked There’s Only One Bed and Enemies To Lovers from the list! Hope you enjoy ❤️

“Oh yeah baby. A king size bed just for me!” You squealed in delight as you face planted into the soft mattress.

“You mean, a king size bed just for us?” Bucky mumbled setting his duffel bag down and toeing off his combat boots.

It was a long trip, Upstate New York to California for the weekend. Okay, well maybe it wasn’t that long but it seemed that way because you were stuck with Barnes the whole time.

Tony needed you and Barnes to come here and work undercover, to retrieve some information from club members about some illegal trade of hydra weapons, or something like that. You weren’t really sure since whenever Tony started to talk, your ears closed up most of the time.

But you couldn’t deny the gorgeous ocean view from the rented condo Tony had found. The french doors were opened, the ocean breeze swooping throughout the condo. It was obviously a step up from the grotty motel room you found yourself staying in just a week ago.

“No Mr Barnes. This is my bed. That’s your bed.” You wagged your finger to the floor and Bucky scoffed, stepping in front of you with his big arms folded over that ridiculous buff chest of his.

“I’m not a dog Y/N. I don’t give a fuck if you like it or not but I am sleeping in this bed with you tonight. Feel free to take the floor, I don’t mind.” He grinned and if it wasn’t for your phone ringing, you might have knocked that grin off his face.

“What is it Tony?!” You snapped unintentionally. Bucky laughed and started to unpack his duffel bag as if to piss you off even more and make a point that he was staying in here tonight.

In your dreams you handsome, gorgeous asshole.

“Whoa there. Who took a shit in your bed? Anyway I have an update. I need you and Barnes at the club by 7PM sharp.” Tony gave the orders and you rolled your eyes, flipping Bucky off when you saw he was laying on his side of the bed.

“Yes boss.” You sassed and threw your phone at Bucky. “Get off the fucking bed and get dressed.” You ordered, grabbing your own clothes and storming into the bathroom. You slammed the door shut and groaned when Bucky yelled through the door.

“YES BOSS. Right away BOSS.” His voice was muffled behind the door and it might have been pointless but you flipped him off once again.

“I hate that fucking guy.” You muttered, turning the jet shower on. You just hoped there would be free food at the party.

***

The mission was a success. You’re not sure how you and Barnes managed to keep it together for so long without being down each other’s throats, but you did and it paid off.

You got the information you were looking for recorded on a small device that was strapped to your thigh. Now it meant you could enjoy the next couple of days relaxing, grabbing a sun tan and avoiding Barnes as much as possible.

“I’m really surprised you didn’t act like such a fucking brat tonight doll.” Bucky complimented as he took his suit off.

“I’m surprised you didn’t wedge your head up your ass.” You retorted as you undressed and changed into your comfy pyjamas. You couldn’t wait to sleep in your king size bed tonight. Your comment earned a snort from the man who just loved the tease and piss you off. It was his mission, it just didn’t matter what he was doing, he would always find a way to squeeze in a moment to annoy you.

“Yeah well, the only thing that did go up my ass was my boxers. I hate wedgies.” He chuckled and you wondered for a moment if he was testing you. He slipped his slacks off and threw them on the chair in the corner of the room and pulled the duvet cover back.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing? I told you this was my bed.” You walked around to his side of the bed with your hands on your hips and your jaw gaped open as he proceeded to make himself as comfortable as fucking possible.

“Look. We’re not fucking five, we’re mature adults and the bed is big enough for both of us. Stop acting like a spoiled princess and get into bed and sleep.”

“No. You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

“I just did now get into bed before I throw you on the mattress and sleep on top of you.” He warned, pulling the duvet back when you refused to budge. “I’ll fucking do it.”

“I don’t care.” You muttered and dropped your gaze to your feet.

“What?”

“You know what.” Bucky swung his legs over the edge of the bed and rested his palms on his -holy shit- muscled thighs that you just noticed. The man has been holding out on you. “If you wanna sleep on the floor, be my guest.” He smirked.

“If you hate me I don’t know why you’re trying to so hard to get me into bed with you.” You scoffed and shook your head. You turned away but his hand reached out and grabbed your wrist, gently pulling you back.

“I don’t hate you. You hate me.”

“I don’t hate you, you just annoy me which I thought was why you hated me.”

“I annoy you because you hate me and keep calling me an asshole.”

“I call you an asshole because you-”

“Shut up and come ‘ere. This could go on all night and I’m dead tired.”

“No I’m not done yet. So you were- AH!” You squealed as Bucky hoisted you up over his shoulder and threw you on the mattress as he promised earlier. You bounced and giggled, the feeling being similar to jumping on an 8ft trampoline. Bucky also kept his other promise and climbed on top of you.

“What do you think you’re doing?” You giggled up at him. His large hands took your smaller ones and held them above your head. His hips slipped between your now open legs like a piece of jigsaw puzzle.

“I told you that if you weren’t going to get into bed that I’d throw you on it and sleep on top of you. I’m a man of my word doll. Now goodnight.” He pecked your lips quickly and shifted around to find a comfortable position.

Of course as he was moving his hips, his clothed member was becoming hard and kept rutting against your core. You sighed softly, your legs wrapping around his waist on their own accord.

Bucky’s face was buried in your neck, breathing in the delicious scent you showered yourself in earlier during your shower. His teeth gently grazed the skin, biting and sucking to leave a mark.

“Bucky- what the hell are we doing?” You whispered against his ear. His hair curtained his face but you could see the once blue orbs had changed into a lustful shade of black.

“I don’t know doll. But I really don’t hate you, never have and never will. It’s quite the opposite actually.” His cheeks were dusted in a cute shade of pink as those black orbs locked onto yours.

“Ditto.” Your blush matched his, a low growl from your lips when his tip unintentionally knocked against your clit.

Bucky’s tongue darted out to wet his dry lips before he lowered them to yours. They were soft and warm.

Your lips parted and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue in and fight for dominance. His non-bionic hand travelled under your sleep shirt and cupped your soft breast. His thumb and forefinger pinched your hardening nipple, eliciting a soft moan from you in response.

“Are you sure you want this? Once I stop I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop.” He panted, his minted breath fanned in your face.

“I’m sure Buck.” Those three words was all it took for Bucky to move his lips from your lips to your throat and down to the swells of your breasts. He pulled off your top, throwing it into the corner of the room somewhere as he continued his journey.

His lips found your nipples, kissing, gently biting and sucking. Your moans grew louder and your panties became more soaked by each passing second.

Once he gave both breasts attention, he continued kissing down your stomach, nipping and sucking any bits of skin his teeth could grip. He was marking you and that thought turned you on even more.

He settled between your legs, a wet patch on the front of your cotton panties giving away just how aroused you were. His fingers hooked on each side of the waistband and slowly peeled them down your legs.

He licked his lips when he was faced with his prize; your glorious wet pussy. Your juices had seeped from your entrance and dripped to the inner side of your thighs.

Bucky kissed his way up your legs, taking his sweet time and giving both legs his full attention just like he did with your breasts.

He looked up through hooded eyes and watched as you were moaning impatiently and squirming under his touches and kisses. You were this wet and he didn’t even fuck you yet. He decided he had teased you enough and pressed a light kiss to your mound.

“Are you sure doll?” He asked for a second time. You hugged out impatiently and propped yourself up on your elbows.

“Bucky. If you do not fuck me right now I will personally tear off your dick and fuck myself with it. Under- ohhh.” You moaned as his tongue delved between your lips, finally putting his tongue on the sensitive nub you’ve been desperate for.

Taglist: @jobean12-blog @marvelgirl7 @godofplumsandthunder @hawksmagnolia @deanthedemon @crushedbyhyperbole @eurynome827 @emilylyoness @buckybarnesplumwhore @buckys-henley @sarge-barnes-sir @this-kitten-is-smitten @kitkatd7 @jamesbarnesappreciationclub @littleredstarfish @tuiccim @mystoragehatesme @starspangledseb @bambamwolf87 @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @lokilvrr @buckbuckybucko @supernaturalwintersoldier @winedrunkbarnes @coffeebooksandfandom @the-romanian-is-bae @dark-academics-and-florals

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sourwormsaresour · 3 years ago

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Hey! Hope you’re doing awesome :-). I was just wondering what the relationship between La Squadra looks like? Do any members absolutely hate each other? Has their view on each other changed over the years? Sorry if this is too much, please don’t feel pressured to answer or even if it’s just Risotto’s view on his team would be awesome

No, you're all good! Thanks for sending me this!

I think all the members do get a long with each other despite only working with their specific partners at a time. I also like to think that they do stuff like play pranks, roast each other, or playfully push each other's buttons- but all in the name of fun and everyone eventually goes on with life. No one genuinely has a vendetta against each other. everyone respects each other's skills (occasionally joking about how one team member is better than the other, roasting each other, having inside jokes based on those roasts, etc.) and everyone knows their limits... most of the time.

Pranks, insults, and issues can go too far but fights and arguments caused by them are surprisingly rare with La Squadra. While mafia teams may have an authoritative approach where the leader rules with an iron fist and instills fear to avoid any conflict, Risotto encourages everyone to state opinions and address conflicts without judgment or consequences. His leadership style falls into the category of conflict management where conflicts should be viewed as a positive aspect that promotes creativity and builds trust over time rather than a negative one to avoid. He still has a final say in all matters and will use strict authority if necessary. However, Risotto strives to be transparent with the team in terms of explaining his decisions and discussing the team's goals.

Through this approach, he's quick to figure out everyone's skills and weaknesses, thinking process, and predict interactions based on whether they will end well or not. On top of that, as the elected leader of La Squadra and Risotto being proven to be careful about details and great with strategy, everyone has full confidence in his decisions and is loyal to him until the end as a result.

If members of La Squadra end up in a conflict that can't be resolved on its own, Risotto will step in as mediator; sometimes he orders the conflict to be resolved immediately if it's not going anywhere. Other team members not involved in the conflict will also work as a mediator in Risotto's stay. In that case, the team's most used mediator is Melone. Like Risotto, Melone can remember and apply his knowledge on everyone's abilities and lack thereof to predict and find ways of resolving issues, as implied from that fun fact sheet on him a while ago where it's stated he knows how to bring out the best in people, and his temperament allows him to be the voice of reason. He also uses it to subtly play mind games with everyone but that's another story.

If Risotto's orders to stop arguments make things worse or Melone isn't able to mediate a good resolution, Risotto will order a fight. He tries to not make this a frequent thing, but he will order the conflicting parties to fight each other as a last resort. In these fights, no Stands or weapons can be used, you're not fighting to murder your opponent, you must fight until Risotto tells you to stop, and no cheering or jeering from the others watching. Risotto reminds everyone that the whole point of these fights isn't to prove one side is right because they "won" or make fun of the other side for losing- it's to let out all pent up anger until both sides can finally reason with each other and serve as a punishment for failing to resolve their issues diplomatically. No one likes these fights, so everyone makes sure they do what they can to express their opinions properly and resolve their issues without lingering anger.

Of course, not everyone started out being chummy with each other. For example, Sorbet and Gelato used to absolutely hate each other for different reasons and used to never exist in the same room without arguments and even fights breaking out. Gelato saw Sorbet as the snobby rich kid who joined the mafia for fun and was too blindsided to understand the reality of being a gangster is. Sorbet saw Gelato as the impulsive maniac who shoots first asks questions later without any disregard to planning or the people around him. It wasn't until they became senior members of La Squadra (they joined the team before the current members joining, including Risotto) and witnessed the constant turnover caused by their team members dying one by one that they realized they were the only ones left and spent more time together. Through that time, they finally resolved their hatred for each other and realized how much in common they were.

Risotto does set up partners based on how well they click with each other, based on what the mission requires, and takes into consideration which members get along well with others. It's why Melone and Ghiaccio are super tight with each other and arguably in Risotto's inner circle due to their skills and their abilities to work with anyone on the team. Formaggio and Illuso, despite appearing like their enemies, are actually close friends. Compared to other members of the team, Formaggio is the most comfortable with Illuso's ego and superiority complex- he's able to quickly counter or throw a good comeback. Formaggio's similar ability to work with anyone allows him to also hold some managerial position in the team, as it's heavily implied how Formaggio himself has people working under him. Unfortunately, Prosciutto is the least easy to work with, as he is more strict with how things should go but also valued for his professionalism and skills. That's why he's often paired with Pesci and works as a mentor role rather than a partner one. Pesci initially spent much of his time with Sorbet and Gelato, seeing them as default parental figures (and it explains why he's able to figure out Sorbet was in the 36 frames based on the nail polish), but became Prosciutto's student almost around the time Sorbet and Gelato were going to find the Boss.

Unfortunately, there's not too much that we know of with relationships outside these partnerships and the difference in the manga and anime makes it kind of hard too. Melone in the manga is very close to Prosciutto and Pesci where he's in shock at seeing their bodies yet shows apathy in the anime. Formaggio also has a sort of mentorship view with Pesci, albeit more playful than Prosciutto yet we only get that from one scene of the anime. Everyone seems to be grossed out by Melone's actions in the anime yet there's none of that in the manga and the interaction between him and Ghiaccio before his death implies how Ghiaccio himself is unfazed by Melone's behavior- even finding it amusing. Prosciutto is often seen as a second-in-command by the fandom due to his mentorship role when Ghiaccio is the implied second-in-command and we don't know much about their relationship; could there be conflicts between them because of this or do they actually get along? Illuso, Formaggio, and Melone are often roped together because they're the most eccentric and therefore can vibe with each other, but we don't know much about their relationship in the anime and manga, apart from that one scene where Formaggio gets grossed out by Melone alongside Prosciutto and Pesci. Risotto works alone and prefers it so. Is it because he has trouble working with others or it's a defense mechanism? Does the team respect that or address their concerns about it? We haven't even considered Sorbet and Gelato's relationship with everyone else besides Pesci.

I think I rambled too much. 😅

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tonyglowheart · 4 years ago

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Hi, if it's alright with you there's a translation bit I want to ask about. From what I'm seeing on social media and on various translations of MDZS, 氏 always seems to be translated either to "clan" or "sect", and there are the rare instances where two parties get into a disagreement over it. What would you say is the more accurate meaning? And can both clan and sect can be used as translations of "氏" without any conflict of meaning?

Hi! Okay so. Let’s unpack this lmao.

氏 more technically translates to “clan,” “family,” or like as a term used to refer to “kinship” relations. It doesn’t.. really translate to “sect”? if you looked it up in a dictionary that’s not what it would say at all. *however.* It’s also not without precedent for there to be cultivation sects within what I’d say is, like, “wuxia classical canon” in which the sect name IS the [location][family name]氏, like what you see in MDZS. Look at the sects listed until “Demi-Gods and Semi-Devils” in this EN Wikipedia lists page.

But 氏 itself does not mean sect, I wouldn’t say, and the usages I’ve encountered before in, like, harem dramas or such, use the term to indicate family, clan, kinship relationships, etc. In harem dramas for example (I’m specifically referencing harem dramas bc that’s the specific examples I have off the top of my head lol,,), you’ll see female characters referred to by [Family name]氏 if they’re not being referred to by their titles or whatnot, and it means something like... clanswoman of [Family name] in this usage. like.. referring to her by her maiden name. (which has its own complicated politics involved and I’m not getting into that here, just as a like... related aside to this example)

I haven’t read much as far as the “classics” of the genre to say what’s typical or not, which also means I don’t know if the cited precedents in earlier wuxia novels treat their 氏 as more of a sect or a clan, or a mix the way mdzs does. But I do think that MDZS, at least, does somewhat conflate clan & sect in how the sects are treated compared to the handful of other danmei cultivation novels I’ve read. MDZS’s “sect” situation is a bit more feudal in the sense of having a founding families who are in charge of certain city-states/regions, and have followers who are part of their city-state and so are members of the “clan” but who aren’t actually a part of the clan in the sense of bloodline or familial kinship goes. Non-blood members of the “clan” are not literally adopted into the family in order to be part of the respective cohort, which is what makes it more like your typical cultivation sect within a wuxia or xianxia setting go. At the same time, you still have your differentiation of the ruling/founding family within the “sect” (which goes by the clan name). If it were just translated as Clan, I can see this becoming more and more confusing for an Anglophone, especially if they don’t have experience with the genre, genre conventions, or cultural conventions. But again I can’t speak for if this is “typical” in the genre or even how the specific texts that might be considered a sort of “wuxia classical canon” treat the 氏 there, and how that’s “typically” been treated in translation (like whether the English translations of these other novels tl as clan or sect, for example). I could look into that more, and like as far as due diligence goes I probably should, but I feel like I can answer your questions without reaaallly delving into all of that at this moment, so I’m gonna ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ If someone does know better and wants to correct me, please feel free.

Regarding MDZS specifically: I believe the choice to translate 氏 in MDZS as Sect was a specific choice that ExR made (who like. c’mon we all know they did in fact set a lot of translation precedent with their tl). If I remember correctly, I believe that ExR actually translated 氏 to Clan or sth like that at first, but then decided to change it to Sect to go along more with “typical” cultivation novels terms (isn’t there an A/N somewhere to this effect?). I actually don’t have an issue with this translation choice, lmao, I think it helps clarify some of the issues an Anglophone unfamiliar with the genre might have, or like help combat some of the connotations of using “clan” that might confuse an Anglophone. I think in English, “clan” tends to have strong kinship meanings, and like a cursory look at the look-up for clan mentions something about “common ancestor” and how in some societies clans would be exogamous, which means their members cannot marry each other. That is not the case with cultivation sects more generally, and not even the case with MDZS sects even tho it acts as a sort of deconstruction of the genre or as a sort of “proto-xianxia” society evolving out of more feudal structures. Anyway, cultivation sects don’t really follow this kind of organizational idea, and MDZS also does have discussions of the significance of bloodline within each respective Sect, which imo would warrant the distinction in translation choice. It also makes it easier to indicate who you’re talking about when you’re talking about, like.. “inner disciples” or “outer disciples” like Gusu Lan has, slash is extra helpful when the other Sects don’t already have this kind of in-built distinction in terminology.

I also kind of like this particular translation choice ExR made because I think the “Gusu Lan Sect” or “Yunmeng Jiang Sect” format lends it a formality to the naming that something like “Lan Clan/family of Gusu” or “Jiang Family of Yunmeng” kind of lacks.

(Rando note: some more “common” terms that “translate” to sect are 派, and 寨 and you’ll see some others like 帮, 教, or 门 and so forth. Each of these don’t... exactly translate to “sect” on their own but Chinese characters don’t always act as individual “words” with one-for-one translations; they sometimes are morphemes which need to be put together with other characters for form words, but can still lend the meaning of common word-constructions even when used individually, depending on context. If you looked up “sect” in an EN>CN dictionary you’d get results like 教派, 宗派, 门派, and more, which take on the meaning of “sect” depending on context and usage)

tl;dr: no 氏 does not translate to sect, per se; if you just asked me out of the blue I’d say it’s “clan” or “family” and/or referring to other kinship relations, including like a “maiden name” for women, as with the harem drama example above. *however*: there’s precedent for the MDZS-style “sect” naming structure within wuxia classical canon as far as referring to established organizations in a given novel go (caveat of I don’t know that much about those or how it’s treated in the text or in translation), and within MDZS usage I can also see why ExR made the decision to translate it to “Sect” when referring to the overall collectives, bc the members of the “sects” include not just the bloodline family members but also non-bloodline disciples who are followers of the sects, and I actually don’t think it’s a bad translation decision. It helps formalize the English translations of the “sect” names, and makes it clear(er) to an EN audience we’re talking about cultivation sects, and also helps to create a distinction for when we need to discuss the main “clan” (i.e. ppl of the bloodline of the founding families of each respective sect) within each respective “sect,” especially where other sects don’t make the distinction between “inner” disciples and “outer” disciples the way Gusu Lan does (a distinction which imo also is helped by calling the greater organization a “sect” and not a “clan,” bc otherwise we’d. probably get even more wank from anglophones arguing that “oh disciples are literally adopted into the family!!!!!!!!” and honestly there’s only so much bs I can take lmao. we already get enough “wwx is LITERALLY adopted” wank as is).

Kind of a last note and also a more context-dependent on the target-language-side approach to translation: I think the treatment of translating 氏 to “sect” as far as MDZS usage goes is, like, considering more certain “canonized” translations of certain terms & concepts from Chinese to English; with here the idea of using “sect” is because that’s the more “canonized” translation for a collective of ppl following a certain school of learning/thought in a cultivation setting.

#mdzs in translation #mdzs #hope this answers your question anon!#if you have any other questions feel free to lmk #I think CQL subs go for the ''Lan Family/Clan of Gusu'' type translations don't they?#and like... that's not wrong exactly #and cql-only fans might have that idea of how it's translated esp if they're netflix fans #so they're not... wrong #but I also think that the Gusu Lan Sect format has become more typified in EN fandom #and like.. that's kind of my preference anyway #for reasons of clarification in target language and to avoid some of the connotations of ''clan'' that you might otherwise bring into the m #Anonymous #asks answered #long post #I ONLY JUST REALIZED HOW VERY LONG THIS IS SORRY SLSNJS

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milazka · 4 years ago

Text

Distraction — Drew Starkey.

image found on pinterest

summary: the one where the quaterback of the football team helps you forget about your bad grade.

request: yes

content: fluff & smut

author’s note: it’s my very first story about a member of the cast of outer banks! i would like to clarify that all this is fictional, i only use the looks and the names of the actors and actresses. my masterlist will be linked at the end of this story if you feel like reading some other fics. this one is for my babe cort ( @pogue-writings ) because she is drew’s soulmate.

warnings: most of my stories may contain mature themes such as swearing, underage drinking, substance abuse, sexual language and scenes, fights and more. also, i do not intend to be offensive towards anyone who reads this blog, if anything written can be perceived as hurtful to any community or person, i apologize, it was never my purpose while writing it.

word Count: 1957.

The campus library has always been her favorite spot to study. It's quiet and the atmosphere is always soothing, the exact opposite of her dorm room where her roommate seems more interested in experimenting the male anatomy than studying it in her textbook. A few weeks ago, after catching her once again during the act, she had decided to find a new place to study. She had walked around the campus and eventually found this spot around one of the large hardwood tables that stand between the bookshelves full of old books about psychology. The perfect place to set her in a study mood.

For the past few hours, she has been sitting in her usual place, her textbook open in front of her eyes and her black notebook on her right. She only has one midterm left in two days and it will cover all the topics seen in her subconscious psychology course, which is one of her most interesting courses, but also the one that requires the longest hours of study in order to pass the exams.

The sound of a chair gliding on the floor makes her look up and she’s surprised to see Drew, a boy from her psychology of the subconscious class, sit on the chair in diagonal to her. Normally, the library is almost empty at this time of the night and she never saw him here; he seems like the kind of guy who spends more time on the football field than he does in front of his textbooks. They’ve been in the same class for four months, but she never really paid attention to him, except when he is disturbing the class with the two other musketeers, Chase and Rudy. She smiles nicely at him when their eyes meet and he raises his coffee cup which he pretends to drink all at once while they both laugh silently, hoping not to be warned by Mrs. Jones, the librarian who looks strangely similar to Roz from the movie Monster inc.

She tries to put her nose back in her book, trying to focus on the pages suggested in the study guide and highlighting important sentences from a passage about Freud and his discovery of psychoanalysis, but she can't help but look up discreetly at the boy. He is wearing a navy flannel shirt which, half-buttoned, reveals a white shirt that moulds his muscular chest. His trademark cap, which he always wears backwards, rests as usual on the top of his head, still letting a few strands of hair slip out of the hat. She particularly lingers on his muscled arms covered by the navy blue cloth, it's not surprising that he's the quarterback on the football team. The studious look on his face and the way he’s chewing on the tip of his pencil while frowning makes him look cuter than usual, she can’t deny it.

When she sees the lateness of the hour, she delicately puts her books back in her red bag, not noticing how intensely the boy is staring at her. He simply can't help but admire her sweet angelic face, her tired-looking little eyes, the thin, shiny layer of lip balm covering her lips that he would dream of kissing; he likes everything about her and cannot help but smile foolishly.

“Hey Y/n,” he whispers, catching her attention. “Me and the boys are throwing a party friday night, you should come.”

“Oh, yeah, of course!” she smiles at him, noticing his blushing cheeks and the little spark in his gaze.

“Great! Good luck on your exam.”

“Good luck to you too. I’ll see you friday.”

─── °• ❀ ───

The room goes from purple to blue, then from blue to pink, courtesy of the spotlights that change the colour of the room's luminosity along the rhythm of the music. The parties hosted by the university football team always do justice to their reputation, no matter what’s the occasion. It's not the first time she attends one, but it's the first time she’s been invited by the quarterback. Her mind did not stop playing back the memory of the little sparkle in the young man's eyes when she had accepted his invitation. Maybe it meant nothing, but a part of her wants to believe it didn't. Plus, she really needs to take her mind off things after receiving her mediocre grade from the last exam. She knew her teacher was strict, but not this strict.

As she makes her way through the dancing crowd, an arm slips around her naked shoulders, making her startles. She's used to being approached by boys at parties, but she hates it when they think they can do anything and touch her even if she doesn't want to. Looking up, she loosen up when she sees Drew's familiar face smirking at her and she's glad it's not a drunk who's asking her to blow him.

“I'm so glad you came,” he says to her as he hands her a red cup filled with beer. “How did your exam go?”

She pouts, taking a big sip of the golden liquid that tickles her throat.

“Really bad.”

“That sucks,” she raises an eyebrow at the boy as when he takes back the cup that he just gave her and drops it on the countertop behind him. “C’mon, I have the perfect remedy for a bad grade.”

Drew takes her tiny hand into his big one, guiding her to the backyard where several tables are set up to play beer pong. Small lights illuminate the yard where games have already started. People cheer each other up and yell like crazy when someone manage to get the ball in a cup. She recognizes Rudy’s familiar blond hair when he jumps into Jonathan's arms and she deduces they just won their game against Madison and Austin. Everyone laughs when the two boys lose their balance and crash into the grass, grunting at each other. Her hand is still holding Drew's firmly when he walks up to Chase who is sitting in a chair close to the fire pit with his girlfriend on his lap, grilling and eating marshmallows.

“Yo Chase! Me and Y/n vs Maddie and you?” Drew challenges his friend, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Game on, baby!” Chase exclaims as they both stand up and follow them to the table.

She and Drew make a fire team, throwing a series of winning shots and gradually getting Madelyn and Chase drunk. All the way through the game, she never worries about her bad grade, it's like it never existed. The alcohol in her bloodstream seems to be opening her eyes to Drew's attractiveness. The girl never really paid attention to how he is totally her type of guy. She bites her lower lip, obviously checking him out when he pulls off his hoodie and his shirt comes up, revealing the prominent V-shape above the hem of his pants.

“Like what you see, don't ya?” he teases the girl, an irresistible smile on the corner of his lips.

She blushes up to her ears, making Drew laugh, and he just adds to her embarrassment by putting his arm around her shoulders before throwing the last ball who lands directly into the last standing cup. Maybe it's the emotion of the moment for her, whereas he's been dreaming about it for months, but their eyes meet each other and suddenly their lips collide. The kiss doesn't last long, not long enough in his opinion. The flight of butterflies in the young woman's belly doesn't disappear when their lips separate, she needs to kiss him again, to feel him touch her.

“I need you, Drew.” she whines close to his ear, making his heart skips a beat. "God, Y/n," he breaths out, pulling her closer to him. "Do you know how long I've been dreaming about you saying that to me?”

She just winks at him and grabs his hand, pulling him toward the front door as he pinches himself on the arm, not believing that this is really happening. He throws a murderous look at Rudy and Chase who make fun of him by pretending to make out sensually. They pass through the living room which is still full of people swinging their bodies to the rhythm of the music and climb upstairs where Drew guides them to his room. He slams her against the door, his hands grabbing her hips as he kisses her again. She bites his lower lip, making him growl against her mouth. Drew starts to place open mouthed kisses on her neck and she tiltes it to give him full access to her burning skin. He leads her to the bed, pinning her on the mattress and he removes her short as he is now hovering over her half naked body. His hand slides down her thigh, making her squirm under him as he gets closer to her core. He plays with the waistband of her panties, smirking against her lips.

“Drew,” she moans, looking at him with her eyes filled with desire. He grabs her waist and flip them over so she is now straddling him. She unbuttons his khaki shirt, slipping his hands over his muscular chest. She starts to grind down on his lap, making him whine and dig his fingers into her buttcheeks

“It's not about me tonight, I'm not the one who needs to be distracted.” he whispers to her ear before flipping her over again so that he is now hovering over her.

She lets out a few muffled moans as he leaves a trail of kisses between her breast and on her stomach. He sucks and nibbles at the skin on her inner thighs, only increasing her desire to feel him on her already wet womanhood.

“You’re so pretty, all wet and spread out like this, just for me.”

“Drew, please…” she begs, but he cuts her short by placing a kiss on her clit, slipping her underwear off. He places an open-mouthed kiss just above her wet folds, making her buck her hips up.

“So eager, baby, I like it.” he hums just above her bundle of nerves, sending vibrations on it. She runs her fingers through his light brown hair, pushing him closer to her heat. He finally licks a full stripe through her folds, making her back arch to the so desired feeling.

“Oh fuck,” she groans as he inserts one finger in her, his tongue sucking on her clit. His hands are firmly wrapped around her thighs to keep her spread open for him. She clenches the sheets between her fists, her eyes close under the wave of pleasure that runs through her body when he replaces his fingers with his tongue. His nose rubs up against her clit as he moves his face, pumping his tongue in and out of her.

“Fuck I’m so close, please don’t stop,” she moans, making him pumps his tongue faster. A few profanities mixed with loud moans leave her lips as she reaches her high, legs shaking on his shoulders. He licks her folds a few more times to clean her up, sending electric jolts through her body when he touches her sensitive nerves from the orgasm. He lies down beside her, pulling her towards him with his arms wrapped around her body.

“What about you? I’m no the type of girl who doesn’t give back,” she starts but Drew shushes her with a quick kiss. “I’m sure you’re not, but tonight it’s about you and only you.”

“Fuck, you’re perfect, y’a know?”

“It was about time you figured that out!” he mocks her and she giggles, burying her face further into the crook of his neck.

─── °• ❀ ───

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hslllot · 4 years ago

Text

Part I. Draft Day

fic masterlist | rated: m, mature | word count: 4.6k content/warning: hockey harry, nosey family members, a very brief mention of anxiety, overzealous hockey stans.

DRAFT REPORT: The 411 on Harry Styles by John Michaelson for Sportsnet

There’s this kid named Harry Styles. He plays hockey. Ever heard of him?

At this point there’s not much else to be said about the british Fighting Hawks’ centre, a lock to be the No.1 pick in the 2015 NHL Draft.

Dubbed a generational talent, Styles’ abilities are at a level typically only seen in video games. We all know the Edmonton Oilers will select him with the first overall pick on June 26. In years to come, hockey fans from around the globe (but especially Oilers fans) will be on the edge of their seats, watching to see if the phenom can develop into a future Hockey Hall of Fame talent the way Wayne Gretzky and Mario Lemieux did.

Here’s what you need to know about Harry Styles:

Age on June 26: 19 Birthplace: Redditch, Worcestershire, England Current team: University of North Dakota Fighting Hawks Position: Centre Shoots: Left Height: 6-foot Weight: 190 lbs NHL Central Scouting Rank (North American): 1st

Harry Styles is a franchise-changing player in every sense of the word. He looked like a pro player even before he flew across the pond at a young age to play in the Canadian Hockey League. This has been a long time coming but the future is finally here.

He is talented beyond his years and always has been… Styles has played against older competition his entire career. Growing up in the small village of Holmes Chapel in Cheshire, England, the options for minor hockey teams were limited. Styles struggled to find a team in his age group that matched his talent level and was forced to play with older kids - and even then his talent was unmatched. Like the two other players from the UK currently playing in the NHL, Styles eventually had to leave home and play junior hockey in Canada, where he still had to play up a year against Canadian kids that grew up in a country that eats, sleeps, and breathes the game.

He should have been drafted 1st overall last year… Styles shocked the hockey world in 2013 when, instead of declaring for the 2014 NHL Draft, he announced he would be attending the University of North Dakota and lead the Fighting Hawks to an NCAA Championship. Styles, ever the media-trained athlete, dodged questions about why he chose to go to university for a year before joining the NHL, simply stating “University was always a part of the plan, no matter what happened with hockey.” The hockey community let out a collective sigh of relief when his agent, Jeffrey Azoff (whose father was, coincidentally, Wayne Gretzky’s agent), announced shortly after his championship win that after one year at UND, Styles would be declaring for the 2015 Draft.

His trophy case is full... Harry Styles has won pretty much every individual hockey award he could possibly win in his career so far. During his CHL career with the Vancouver Giants he won Rookie of the Year, multiple MVP awards, the award for most goals, assists, and overall points, and scholastic player of the year. During his short-lived NCAA career with UND, he won Rookie of the Year, the Hobey Baker Award as the top men’s hockey player, and was named to the Academic All-American team. Unfortunately, Great Britain’s ice hockey team will not be qualifying for the Olympics or the World Championships any time soon, so unless Styles applies for Canadian citizenship, international trophies and medals will be difficult to come by. Regardless, I have a feeling that there will be many Stanley Cups in his future.

He really hates underperforming… The kid puts a lot of pressure on himself. As we have seen with many successful athletes, an insatiable inner drive to compete can lead to greatness. Styles has that drive to be great and can be his own worst critic. “When I was growing up, my mum was worried about me because I was a bit of a perfectionist.” Styles told The Hockey News back in December. “When I had a bad game, I would get so upset about it. It’s just how I am and how I think every athlete should be. Good is never enough. It’s important to always keep learning and growing to better yourself.”

He is excited to play for the Oilers… Not that he would have anything bad to say about any of the 30 NHL teams, but the Oilers do hold a special place in Styles’ heart. “It’s a great hockey town with fans that are super passionate about the game.” He told The Hockey News. “They’ve been on a bit of a slide the last couple years but the team has a great history. Not many people watch the NHL where I’m from, but my dad was always interested in it and that’s how I got into the game. He was an Oilers fan during their dynasty years with Gretzky and Messier… So if they do end up drafting me first overall, I’ll feel honored to be a part of the team, and it’ll be a nice tribute to my dad.”

Be sure to catch our live 2015 NHL Draft coverage on June 26 starting at 5pm EST/2pm PT only on Sportsnet.

“With the first overall pick in the 2015 NHL Entry Draft the Edmonton Oilers are proud to select, from Holmes Chapel in England, Harry Styles.”

The room erupted in loud cheers and applause as the Edmonton Oilers drafted the National Hockey League’s newest and most sought after commodity.

Y/N’s closest friends and extended family roamed around her parents’ living room, congratulating one another with hugs and handshakes like one of their own family members was just drafted. That wasn’t the case though, they were all just deeply invested in the hockey team and the boy from England that was meant to turn things around after so many years of losing. They were so invested, in fact, that the family organized a gathering similar to something you might see on a holiday, like Thanksgiving or Christmas.

While it was not a normal holiday, for Y/N’s family it was just as significant. It was Draft Day. And every hockey fan in North America wanted Harry Styles to play for their team.

“That’s quite the suit, isn’t it?” Her uncle Will pointed to the television where the young man is dressed in an ornate red floral suit and black dress shirt. The suit was flashier than what most hockey players would wear, but it’s clear that Harry Styles is not like most hockey players. The camera panned to him as he stood up from his seat and hugged the two brunette women sitting next to him. He stuck out like a sore thumb among a sea of other young hockey players all dressed in variations of black and grey as they patiently waited to be drafted from the stands of the BB&T Centre in Florida. It was clear to Y/N that, much like his hockey skills, Harry Styles’ fashion sense was superior compared to his peers.

There was an air of excitement in the room as the draft party, all clad in blue and orange jerseys, watched the generational talent walk down the stairs of the arena and make his way to the stage. They collectively held their breath, the room becoming silent, when he arrived at the stage where both the owner and general manager of the team were waiting to greet him. Harry shook their hands before they handed him his own blue and orange jersey. As he slipped the jersey over his head and posed for a photograph with the executives, the silence in the room broke and excited conversations and speculations for the upcoming season continued. Y/N couldn’t help but feel a stir in her belly and a sense of anticipation for what the upcoming hockey season would bring.

Her thoughts lingered on the man on the screen, wondering what it might be like to meet him, when her brother pulled her out of her reverie. “Can you believe you’ll be working with the Harry Styles?”

No - she couldn’t quite believe it.

In fact, everything happening in her life right now seemed a bit too good to be true.

Set to start her third year of university in September and having to complete mandatory practicum hours in order to graduate the following year, she somehow managed to secure a placement with her favourite hockey team. The Oilers were only taking three students from the university program and everyone in the program wanted one of those spots.

The application process was incredibly stressful for Y/N. One telephone interview, one in-person interview, and a practical session where she had to demonstrate her athletic therapy skills to the team’s head trainer. She did well with the phone interview, given that they weren’t able to see her. She was able to look down at the talking points she wrote in her notebook and pause to take a couple deep breaths without making it obvious that she was reeling on the inside. Her anxiety got the best of her during the in-person interview though, freezing up when they asked simple questions like “why do you want to work for the team?” and “what experience do you have working with sport teams?”

She left the interview feeling embarrassed, but instead of taking the time to wallow and feel sorry for herself, she went home and spent hours upon hours taping her brothers’ ankles in preparation for the practical session the following day. There was no way she was going to let the opportunity fall through the cracks. Her dream of working for the Oilers was the whole reason she decided to go to school for athletic therapy in the first place. She was never any good at playing hockey but she knew in her heart that, someday, she would work for the team she loved so much. At the end of it all, she reckons her taping skills saved her, so she took her brother out to his favourite restaurant to thank him for letting her use his ankles for practice.

Fast forward a few months and she’s now stood in her parents living room thinking about how in three months she could be taping Harry Styles’ ankles.

At the time of her application, no one knew the Oilers would be picking first in the draft. The aura around the team was a bit negative at the time (because of all the losing) and there were rumours circulating the city that some of the star players were rude to the support staff and liked to party a little too hard at The Ranch (which contributed to said losing).

When she first decided to apply for the position her father warned her, “there’s a saying that you should never meet your heroes. What if they’re all a bunch of assholes and you end up hating the team you’ve loved your whole life?”

Y/N ignored her father’s warning but silently hoped that others would feel that way, narrowing down the applicant pool. However, the rumours circulating the team had no effect on the amount of students applying for the job. The fans were loyal in Edmonton (a city not known by many around the world unless you follow hockey or are compelled to visit North America’s largest shopping mall) and although the team was losing, every kid studying athletic therapy wanted a shot with their favourite team. Y/N knew of at least fifteen students that she beat out for the position.

Now, it’s late June and there is a general hype surrounding the team, as if Harry was about to come in and shine a light on the Decade of Darkness (a term Oilers fans use to characterize the recent years in which their favourite team hadn’t made the playoffs). That’s a lot of pressure to put on one person, but Y/N supposed that he’s been dealing with this kind of pressure since he was sixteen, maybe even younger.

Everyone at her family’s draft party was, yet again, watching the television intently while Harry gave his first interview as an official member of the Edmonton Oilers hockey team. While Y/N normally loved watching these types of interviews, she was a bit zoned out- mesmerized by the look of him. The suit, the wavy chestnut hair, the dimple in his left cheek, the accent. The accent. She had never really been that attracted to hockey players, which many people found hard to believe given that she’s such a fan of the sport. All of the guys from her high school who played minor hockey were rotten and thought they were better than everyone else. She did have favourite players in the NHL, players that she loved and admired, but they were her favourites because she loves how they play the game, not because she wants to fuck them.

There was something different about Harry Styles though. Not necessarily that she wanted to fuck him (especially since she recently signed an employment contract that would forbid it), but she was certainly feeling intrigued by him. He doesn’t look like the boys she went to high school with. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s British, or that he opted for a suit that set him apart from the rest of them, or maybe it was the duality of the way he held himself with unshakeable confidence in his floral suit, his gaze set intensely on the person interviewing him, posture strong and dominant, while simultaneously speaking so softly, his words laced with kindness and gratitude.

“When do you start working with the team, Y/N?” Her uncle Will asked from across the room, prompting everyone to look in her direction waiting for her response.

The news that Y/N would be working for the Oilers this season shook the family. As soon as her dad shared the news with his brother, she started receiving messages expressing congratulations from her many aunts, uncles, and cousins, shortly followed by messages asking if she would be getting free tickets to games.

“Um, mid-September, for training camp.”

“You get to meet Harry Styles?” her 9 year old cousin, Billy, asked.

“I do. I will be one of the team’s trainers.” The young boy held a look of wonder on his face, as if realizing for the first time that that his oldest cousin was actually kind of cool.

“Do you think he’s single?” Her aunt Maria asked with a smirk on her face, turning to the television to look at Harry Styles. Aunt Maria doesn’t care much for hockey but she never failed to mention which players she believed to be handsome. She was also the nosey type of aunt that liked to inquire about Y/N’s dating life. “Maybe you two will hit it off.”

Y/N playfully rolled her eyes at her aunt, waving off her comment. But before she could retort, her father chimed in. “Ha! Yea, right! That’s not going to happen. She’s not allowed to date anyone on the team, it’s the rules. Plus, Y/N knows better than to get involved with any of these guys.”

Her father was right. It is the rules. Y/N thought back to when she went into the Oilers headquarters back in April to sign her employment contract. She asked a lot of questions, making sure she understood everything about the document she was signing.

“Personal relationships? Even friendships are forbidden?” she asked the head trainer, TJ, for clarification.

“It depends. You can be friendly, sure, but I would avoid spending time with the players outside of training and game times. Could be seen as unprofessional.”

Y/N understood why such rules were in place, and she had no issue with it at the time. A woman securing a position on a professional sports team was rare, let alone a woman securing a position with a professional men’s team. She knew when she chose this career path that it would always be an uphill battle and that she’d have to work harder and be more strategic than the men in her field. She wanted- no, needed to excel and prove that she could be a talented athletic therapist and a valuable member of the team, so she had no intention whatsoever of messing that up with any type of personal relationships. She also understood the power dynamic between the professional athletes and the support staff, the different ways in which power can be abused, and how personal relationships could complicate things. It all made sense to her. Plus, she was happy enough with just becoming friends with the other trainers and she probably wouldn’t have a lot of free time, anyways, balancing her practicum and her school work.

Today, however, she couldn’t help the very slight pull on her heartstrings at the thought of not getting to know Harry Styles on a more personal level.

As if he’d even be interested in the first place.

In a hotel restaurant in Sunrise, Florida, a few hours after the draft, Harry Styles sat with his mother Anne, sister Gemma, and agent Jeff, celebrating his newly drafted status over a bottle of champagne. He knew he should be feeling elated, like it was the best day of his life, but all he felt was exhausted. The conversation at the table happened around him while he sat in his own head, unable to think about anything but what it might feel like to be tucked into his bed in his childhood bedroom in Holmes Chapel.

The weeks leading up to the draft were an absolute circus filled with interviews and talking to the media nearly every day (he hates talking to the media), shooting promo for all of his endorsements (he’s thankful for the money they give him but he knows he is an excruciatingly terrible actor), and flying around North America to visit all of the potential cities where he might be drafted (it was a pointless tour because everyone knew where he was going to end up).

He had only tonight to celebrate with his family before it was all set to start again. Him and Jeff will fly off to Edmonton tomorrow morning for a week to speak to the media there, meet the teammate he’ll be living with, and do a surprise skating session with some kids at a summer camp. Meanwhile, his mum and sister will fly back to England.

“Any idea where you’ll live then?” Anne asked her son, pulling him out of his thoughts and back into the conversation.

“Hm?” He hadn’t a clue what his mum just asked him but he’d hate to admit that rather than listening to anything the three of them had been talking about for the last hour he’d been thinking about how he’d rather be sleeping “Sorry, I think the champagne’s got to me a bit.”

“The team’s got him living with one of his older teammates and his family.” Jeff stepped in, knowing Harry wasn’t fully paying attention. “They do this with the young guys to get them used to living on their own. Teach ‘em how to cook, do laundry, and keep ‘em in line. He won’t be partying every night and bringing girls back to his place if he lives with the guy’s wife and kids.”

“Oh please,” Gemma chimed in. “Not like any of that would be an issue for Harry. He’s been away from home for years. And he’s hardly got time for partying and dating.”

Harry shot Jeff a look warning him to keep his mouth shut. When Harry found out about the living arrangements the team had planned for him, he was less than pleased. After all, he’d just spent the last year living in a dorm room at the University of North Dakota where he had complete freedom. Gemma was right, he didn’t have much time for partying and dating. But he liked having his own space, and he really liked being able to invite someone over after a game, either to celebrate a win or relieve some stress after a loss.

“You never know, some of these young guys get their first big pay cheque and a taste of the big leagues and it can go off the rails pretty fast.”

“I like to think I raised my baby to know better than to get caught up in a pay cheque.” Anne placed a comforting hand on her son’s shoulder and he quickly reciprocated, reaching up to place his hand over hers.

Not liking where this conversation was going, Harry finally cut in. “You did. And Jeffrey, you know I’m not that kinda guy. Either way, none of this matters if I don’t make it past training camp. For all we know I could be going back to the juniors for the season.”

“Doesn’t matter who you are or what kinda guy you are, H, it’s just what the team does. It’s tradition. And c’mon, I know you like to keep your expectations in check, but the team’s made it pretty clear that you’re gonna be in the starting lineup come October.”

Jeff was right. The team had all but promised that he would make it past training camp. The question wasn’t if he’d make it past training camp, but in what shape he’d be in and how long it would take for the team to start winning games.

“The coach said I’m small and need to bulk up, especially since I’ll be playing against older, more experienced men.” Harry could feel the weight of his mum’s gaze as she gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “I’m not quite where I need to be yet, but I’ll get there.”

Harry and his family were stood in the hotel lobby with Jeff, convening on plans for the morning when he felt a small tug on the hem of his red floral suit jacket. He spun himself around, ready to confront the individual bold enough to touch him without his consent, to find a young girl, no older than five years old staring up at him.

Harry looked at her, a bit taken aback and undoubtedly with a bit of confusion written on his face, and then spotted, a few feet behind her, two individuals who were most likely her parents. Suddenly, he realized that he may have actually had a few too many glasses of champagne and immediately tried to compose himself, standing straighter and trying to will away the exhaustion in his eyes and the haziness in his mind.

“Oh - um, hello there.” He cleared his throat before using the soft voice he reserves for adorable, small children like the one stood before him.

“Are you Harry Styles?” She asked with wide eyes and a small, timid voice.

“I am, sweetheart. What can I do for you?”

A bright smile etched itself onto her face. But instead of answering him, she looked back at the adults standing behind her, motioning for them to help as she was too shy to proceed on her own. The man, who Harry presumed was her father, moved to stand beside her.

“This is Millie. She wanted to say hi to you because she’s a big fan of yours.”

Harry lowered himself in front of the young girl so that he was crouched down and eye-level with her. “Hi Millie, it’s a real pleasure to meet you.” He reached out to shake the young girl’s small hand. “Have you got anything that I could sign? Or I suppose we could take a photo if you’d like?”

The young girl removed her hand from Harry’s, nodding her head eagerly. She began to unzip her jacket, revealing a bright orange Edmonton Oilers jersey underneath.

“Oh? Look at that! You’re an Oilers fan. In Florida?” Harry lifted himself from his crouched position and directed his question toward at the girl’s father.

“Yes, well, we actually travelled here from Edmonton, to watch the draft in person.” Harry raised his eyebrows in shock. He knew that the flight from Edmonton to Florida is long, and likely expensive. The tickets to attend the draft live probably weren’t cheap either. “It’s not every day your favourite team picks first overall! Let alone gets to pick a player like you. We were so excited so we decided to make a family trip out of it. Turn around, Millie, show him the back!” Millie’s father handed Harry a sharpie as Millie turned her back to Harry.

It was at that moment that Harry started to understand the weight of the moment. The name ‘STYLES’ was embroidered on the back of Millie’s Oilers jersey, above the number ‘15’ indicating his draft year. He was speechless. This was, after all, the first time he was seeing his name in the classic Oilers’ orange and blue colours adorned on a fan’s back.

The feeling was different from earlier at the draft when they presented him with his own jersey. This one belonged to someone else. Someone bought his jersey before he’d even ever played a single minute for the team. They flew across the continent, from Edmonton to Florida, just to watch him get drafted. It was a lot for his hazy, champagne-diluted mind to take in.

Realizing he’d just been standing there staring at the jersey, he cleared his throat once again in hopes that he could hide the unknown thoughts and emotions he was trying to reconcile. “Wow, um, I didn’t realize you could get these already.”

Millie’s father laughed, “Man, they’ve been selling these in Edmonton since they announced we’d be picking first in the draft.” Again, the feeling was overwhelming for Harry.

We’d be picking first in the draft.

To this family, and probably others in Edmonton, the Oilers were “we”. They win together, they lose together. If the Oilers pick first in the draft, they all pick first. It was their team. And now he, Harry, was a part of that “we”.

Harry reached down to sign the jersey on Millie’s back, quickly scribbling his autograph on the left side. As he straightened himself, he felt Anne move to stand beside him, apparently having sensed her son’s unease and unconscious need for his mother to join him in this moment.

“Hi, I’m Harry’s mum, Anne. Would you like me to take a picture of the four of you?” Millie’s father eagerly handed his phone to Anne and waved his wife over to be in the photo. Several photos of Harry and the family were taken, followed by a few of just Harry and Millie.

“Would you mind if I took one of Harry and Millie on my phone as well?” Anne asked as she snapped the last photo. “This is the first time Harry’s met a fan wearing his name on an Oilers jersey. We’d like to remember it.”

The family was more than happy to oblige so Anne took a few more photos on her phone, including one where Millie’s back was to the camera and the ‘STYLES’ name in full view.

It was so like his mum to understand how special the moment was and to come in and save him. He couldn’t quite articulate what he was feeling in that moment, as understanding emotions and sentimentality were not his greatest strengths, and he most definitely never would have asked to take a photo to keep for himself had she not done it.

The obvious feelings were joy and gratitude. Every day he was thankful to play the game he loved, to be successful, and to have fans that loved and supported him. It didn’t always make sense that complete strangers paid him so much attention just for playing a game, but he accepted it and always tried to show those strangers kindness in return. However, there was another feeling lingering, one that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Looking at his mum, he knew that she knew what it was. She always knew. And certainly she would make him talk about it later.

As they separated from the family and walked toward the hotel elevators, where Gemma and Jeff were waiting, Anne grabbed onto her son’s arm, holding him close as they walked side by side.

“Do you see that they love you already, my darling?” She asked. Harry raised an eyebrow at his mum, unsure of what she was going on about. “I know you. I know that you care what people think and that you are scared to disappoint them. You just need to step out on the ice and be yourself. Just be Harry. They already love you and this is only just the beginning.”

WOW! OK. I know it’s a bit of a slow start, but I wanted this chapter to be more of an introduction to harry and the mc and to the fan culture that harry is about to experience!! I’ve already started on the next part so that should be up before Christmas! If you’ve made it this far, all I can say is that I love you and appreciate you. If you liked it, please let me know. I debated not posting this so many times (and I might even regret it later) so feedback will certainly ease my troubled mind!! I ALWAYS LOVE YOU, BUT ESPECIALLY TODAY!! xx Shan.

Harry’s Draft Day Look

talk to me about generational | fic masterlist

#wow i'm so nervous to post this #generational #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfic #harry styles series #harry styles au #harry styles x reader #hockey harry styles #athlete harry styles

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thecottageinthedark · 4 years ago

Text

Sorting Persona 4

Here again with another Sorting Hat Chats post! This one’s for Persona 4. Full disclaimer; this is based just on the game, not the anime. Also it’s behind a cut cause it is LONG. And has spoilers.

The system I’m using is explained here by @wisteria-lodge.

The Persona 4 MC, whose name is either Souji Seta or Yu Narukami depending on which supplemental materials you go by, is a really REALLY loud Badger secondary. His power is based on making Social Links with NPCs and shifting to become whatever they need-and also on patiently grinding to level up his attributes. And because he lives so much in this secondary-plus the fact that on a meta level he’s kind of a stand-in for the player-his Primary is hard to see.

But where it gets revealed in the end is the decisive moment when the ending you’re going to get is decided. The Investigation Team have discovered that Namatame’s been putting people into the TV, and thus are assuming he’s the murderer-and it’s become horribly personal, because one of the people he did that to was Nanako, and even though she’s been rescued, she’s deathly ill thanks to the TV World’s poison.

And now you-and the MC-have a choice. The IT are baying for Namatame’s blood, ready to kill. One Badger Primary method would be to appeal to the fact that he’s a person, you can’t just kill people….but nobody’s listening. Another would be to dehumanise him and say, he’s a murderer, he needs to die for the sake of everyone-going along with all the fury of the group. A Lion would lash out too-less because everyone’s doing it and more from their own gut feeling, but that would still lead to dead Namatame. A Snake might kill Namatame because he hurt Nanako...or, in the Golden remake, if they’ve done Adachi’s social link, they might cover for him. Either way, they’d be prioritising an inner circle member.

And all of those get you bad endings. Especially the Snake choice to cover for Adachi.

What gets the good ending, the happy ending where the MC is fulfilled and at peace, is to ignore all the emotion that’s running so high, and order everyone to step back and take time to think about whether the theory of Namatame being the killer makes sense. Pounce on the niggling little detail that doesn’t fit, and realise that the assumption everyone is labouring under isn’t true. And then prioritise the actual truth over personal loyalties or emotional reactions.

Bird Primary.

Because of course. This is a detective story. Your party are called both the Investigation Team and the Seekers of Truth. Even the title song hints at it; find the truth (Bird) by getting together with others (Badger).

Yosuke Hanamura’s a young, immature Snake Primary at game start, with the selfishness typical to that. His Shadow throws that back in his face, and he realises he doesn’t like being an asshole whose secret gut reaction to murders happening is ‘well at least I’m not bored anymore now something is happening in this dead-end town’.

So he does two things pretty much at the same time; he widens his inner circle to let in first Souji and then the rest of the IT, and he adds a model on top to let him care about things outside that circle. I think it’s a Lion model-a young Lion, just like his Snake, that edges into Glory Hound, but keeps hold of the idea that you should do certain things because they’re just right.

(It’s not based on the MC, though the MC is undoubtedly his most important person, who he even calls his partner. But then, as I said, the MC’s Bird is very quiet, so it’d be hard for Yosuke to perceive it well enough to mimic it. I think it’s actually based on Chie, who is after all the inner circle member he has known longest!)

And his secondary? Yosuke’s a support guy. He lifts his friends up. His family run Junes, and he leverages that connection to create a base location for the IT and secure a portal into the TV world that’s big enough to be usable. When Teddie comes to the human world, it’s Yosuke who gives him a place to stay. He’s a Badger secondary, and again, this makes perfect sense. The Lover sorting. No wonder so much of the fandom ships him with the MC.

Chie Satonaka is LOUD and BRASH and if you are a jerk she will KICK YOU IN THE FACE. She is so goddamn Lion Secondary, and utterly unapologetic about it.

Her primary, I think, is Lion again. The reason she has gotten possessive of Yukiko (as her Shadow calls her out on) isn’t that she wants Yukiko to be just hers-it’s that she wants to be Yukiko’s knight. Saving the princess is actually a textbook Lion cause. It lets her feel heroic and brave.

But that’s not good for either of them. Damsel in distress is a shitty role, one that doesn’t allow Yukiko to be strong and capable herself, and Chie pushing Yukiko into that role is really straining their relationship. It’s also something that Chie herself knows is wrong-that’s why her Shadow accuses her of it. (“I am a Shadow, the true self...”)

So instead Chie changes gears, because oh look a new Cause just popped up! Find the killer and bring them to justice! And on top of that, there’s always sexist prats to kick.

Yukiko Amagi models Badger Primary, because it’s expected of her. Running an inn is a really Badger kind of job. She also models Badger Secondary, for the same reasons. She feels this is who she’s meant to be; sweet, gentle, socially adept, community-focused and hard-working. The traditional Japanese ideal of womanhood.

But it chafes. The weight of societal expectations feels crushing. She doesn’t want to do stuff just because she’s meant to, because people think she should. She’s an Internal Primary, and needs to follow the voice of her own heart.

And where that heart leads her...is back to the Amagi Inn, except now she’s decided that she’s doing this for herself. She needed to feel that she could actually choose to not inherit the inn, before she could realise that she wanted to run it. She’s a Snake Primary, and the inn is important to her because it’s hers.

Her secondary...actually I get the feeling she’s like Toph Beifong of Avatar, a Snake who likes to spend most of her time in neutral. She is delightfully quirky and weird, and owns that, but she doesn’t charge like a Lion and she’s comfy with wearing masks when the situation calls for it.

Kanji Tatsumi panics at the idea that he might be gay, and caretakes like a boss, and that might look at first sight like a Double Badger who’s scared that he might be one of the people he’s used to dehumanising. His Shadow screams that it wants to be accepted...but what calms it is when Kanji himself accepts it, and says that this resolution is about being true to himself. Kanji’s a Double Lion who burnt his primary because being given shit for the feminine, queer-coded parts of himself made him lose faith in his internal compass, worrying that it was leading him somewhere that he viewed as bad. Internalised homophobia’s a bitch of a thing.

Accepting his Shadow is the start of Kanji healing his primary-letting go of shame for being an oddball and telling the world to go fuck itself if it thinks it can make him conform. He does model Badger Secondary-as I said, he caretakes like a boss-but that’s more a thing he does as a gift to others. When it comes to solving problems, he charges in swinging, ready to beat up anyone from biker gangs to otherworldly monsters.

Rise Kujikawa is a cheerful, shameless Snake Primary, loving and ambitious. She became an idol to make friends, and enjoys the fame it gets her. And when she needs to take a break for the sake of her mental health, she has no compunctions about doing so.

But she needed that break because the idol life was stressing her out-unsurprisingly, it’s a really intense life. And the particular problem she had was to do with the conflicting expectations the public has of celebrities. Perfection is demanded...but so is authenticity.

Rise realised that she was face-shifting as an integral part of her career, and this knowledge sent her into a tailspin. The fans don’t like the real Rise Kujikawa-they like Risette. But who is the real Rise Kujikawa? She doesn’t know! It’s frightening! What if she’s just made of smoke and mirrors? How does she find out what’s underneath?

And the answer she comes to is that there is no real Rise Kujikawa...which is the same as saying that there is no false one. Rise is Risette is Rise, it’s all just her, adapting to the context as she needs to. She’s a Badger Secondary, and the act of performance is the true self.

And for her, that’s a good answer-it brings her peace. But now we need to talk about Teddie.

Because just hearing Rise say ‘there’s no real me’ sends Teddie into a Shadow crisis right there.

He completely fucking loses it. He’s a denizen of the TV world-he’s been immune to it all this time, never manifesting a Shadow, but this is what breaks him. And that just screams Bird Lion. It’s his Buzz Lightyear moment-or rather his first Buzz Lightyear moment, because there are two. This is the first, and he survives it by retreating into his Secondary. It allows him to bring Shadow Teddie under control...but this isn’t sustainable. He’s realised something terrible and can’t avoid that knowledge indefinitely.

And soon enough he admits it to himself (and to the MC). He is a Shadow, that somehow became self-aware. His Truth was never true. He can’t handle it, he has no idea how to even exist, and he outright tells the MC that he intends to commit suicide.

He recovers, though-and he does so because the MC tells him Nanako survived. That’s the first thing that gives him a glimmer of hope, because his Truth already had some Snakey elements in there about chosen people and ambitions. He comes back from the brink, reshapes his system to centre those Snake principles, and returns to the side of his friends.

Lastly, Naoto Shirogane, our other queer-coded character. (I’m using she pronouns for the sake of canon here-but I’m a firm believer in nonbinary Naoto, for the record.) I think she’s a Bird secondary-the only one of those here, jeez. She’s just so analytical. She’s a rapid-fire Bird too, Detective Prince working on a case, squarely in the middle of her comfort zone. But push her out of it-into a normal teenager social situation, say-and watch her squirm!

She has a Bird Primary performance, too. But performance is the operative word here. She’s trying to look adult and smart and collected, in order to be taken seriously by the police officers she works with. And she is smart, mind you, but that’s not the why of her though it is the how. It’s not Naoto who goes ‘wait, let’s think about this, we need more information’ at the crucial point, but the MC, who really is a Bird Primary. Naoto was the one to suggest doing a little vigilante justice vis-a-vis murdering Namatame.

Her real Primary is Lion. Being a detective is a Cause for her, not a Truth, and she is blazingly certain of her own sense of what’s right-so much so that she doesn’t stop and check it against other people’s. And she inspires people! She doesn’t even mean to, and certainly doesn’t know why, but she is just so cool that people flock to her and admire her. ‘The Detective Prince’ is, when you think about it, a really Lion Bird kind of title!

Her Shadow has two issues with her. First, it harps on the gender angle. Hey, self, there’s that thing about your identity that you’ve been refusing to think about! You need to go poke at it! And then it breaks down into a scared child. Self, your performance is eating you alive. You need to do it, yes, the Cause demands it, but you also need to be able to stop sometimes and let yourself have emotions!

In short:

MC/Souji/Yu: Bird primary, Badger secondary

Yosuke: Snake primary, Badger secondary, models Lion primary

Chie: Lion primary, Lion secondary

Yukiko: Snake primary, Snake secondary, with Badger primary and secondary models that start out pretty unhealthy for her.

Kanji: Lion primary that starts out burnt and begins to unburn after his Shadow fight, Lion secondary. Models Badger secondary.

Rise: Snake primary, Badger secondary

Teddie: Bird primary, Lion secondary. Falls dramatically and recovers by shaping his system to be more Snakelike.

Naoto: Lion primary, Bird secondary, performs Bird primary

#persona 4 #sorting hat chats #harry potter

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scribble-blog · 5 years ago

Text

Soulmate AU part 14!!!

First • Previous • Here • Next

“We’ve got a few minutes,” Abeille said as they sat on the roof of a nearby building. “Let’s have some fun while we’re sitting here! I don’t know- swing around a few buildings. Beat up some thugs. Gotham’s gotta have a few of those snooping about.”

“No, Abeille.” Marinette shot the idea down immediately. “It’s our first impression with them. They need to see us as real heroes, not a bunch of kids fooling around.”

“You’re no fun ever since you got back from your date with Wayne,” Chloé pouted, igniting Marinette’s sigh of- “yeah, yeah, no identity stuff. But still. Go on one afternoon outing and now you’ve got just as much of a stick up your ass as he did.”

“Maybe they traded out.” Adrien grinned at her, cat eyes brilliant in the darkness. “Somewhere, Damian Wayne is being fun and happy and probably shocking everyone who knows him. And we got stuck with grumpy pants over here.”

Marinette groaned. “I just want this to go well, guys. I don’t think we’ll have a second shot at reaching out for help like this-“ she cut off as movement caught her eyes. The building she’d been watching now had three figures atop it, small but silhouetted against the night sky. Quickly, one vanished just as quickly into shadow again.

“I think we’re up,” Marinette breathed to the other two. “Chat, you’ve got Trixx?”

The Kwami poked his head out. “I’m ready. Just say when.”

“Now,” Marinette ordered, and with the kwami’s power Chat flickered invisible. With a look at Chloé and the count of three, they both leapt from the building, making their way to Wayne Enterprises. She could hear Chat’s movement if she tried, but she was looking for it. She just hoped their arrival would mask his, and that he could hide well enough that they wouldn’t see him immediately when the illusion ran out.

The Wayne Building was tall, and Marinette bounded up it, propelled by her super strength and the retracting of her yo-yo, wrapped around some jutting piece of architecture at the top. Chloé was right beside her as they vaulted the edge, landing neatly on the rooftop, and she just barely heard the soft landing that indicated Adrien had made it. In sync with them, it was unnoticeable.

There were two heroes waiting for them. Red Robin again, who looked almost- excited to see them. And the other had to be Robin, with the red-green-yellow ensemble. She assumed immediately that the third figure had been Batman himself- and that they had been trying to play the exact same game as them, in bringing a hidden extra party. She kept herself from smirking. Reputation or no, they had magic to hide Adrien. And she already knew someone else on their side was there.

“You must be Ladybug. And Reine Abeille.” Red Robin started, voice warm and welcoming. It set Marinette off immediately. “I’m glad Miss Dupain-Cheng was able to set up this meeting for you. From what I’ve gathered, there’s been some pretty terrible things going on in Paris.”

Marinette raised an eyebrow. He’d known absolutely nothing about it last night. So he must have been doing his research in the intervening hours. What all had he found?

“Then you know about the magical terrorists, Hawkmoth and Mayura,” Marinette let her inner Ladybug out, her voice commanding.

“Well, not so much,” Red Robin tilted his head, and Marinette suddenly pinned it in her mind: this was some sort of- gimmick. A test? They wanted to see how much she’d just go spilling to them. “There isn’t much that makes it onto accessible news sources. Everything I know comes straight from your LadyBugOut App.”

“Tt. The app barely tells us anything, Red Robin. For all we know, they could be playing us for fools.” Robin leaned away from his casual, dismissive stance on the wall, in towards them. “Why should we believe you when the only proof you have is your own word and videos that could have been created and edited by you?”

As he stood up and walked closer, Marinette felt anger thrumming in her veins. So this was their strategy- one of them open and ready to listen and believe, the other derogatory and making them angry so they revealed more than they wanted to. “I suppose when you put it like that, the evidence doesn’t hold up,” She said coldly. “But if you wish, I also suppose I could bring you back to Paris and wait a bit. Proof comes just about once a day now, and the last akuma was almost twenty hours ago.”

The boy didn’t answer her, but under his mask she could practically feel the weight of his disinterest and disbelief, whether or not it was an act to pry information from her.

“No need for anything like that,” Red Robin soothed.

“No,” Abeille cut him off. “I think there is a need. We didn’t come here to be baited for information by you. If you want to know something, ask. But don’t play games and don’t try to trick us. We’ll pull our third out of hiding, if you want to bring your other two members up here and actually talk to us.”

“Two?” Red Robin gaped. “But-“

Marinette gazed at him coolly as he floundered. If Chloé was bluffing, she’d bluffed wrong. But both her senses and Chat’s were a bit higher strung than hers...

She said, “Chat?” And out of the darkness her partner sprang, vaulting off the roof and returning half a moment later with Red Hood clutched beside. As he did so, Batman slunk out of whatever corner of shadow he’d hidden in, and immediately Chat separated himself.

“That’s what I thought,” Chloé smirked, and Marinette turned back to Red Robin, who’s face was open and bemused, and Robin, whose face didn’t give nearly so much away. But all of the hostility that had been there before had melted away, so she felt it prudent to stop glaring.

“Now, if we could all behave like adults and actually discuss the situation in Paris,” Chat Noir dusted himself off. “It’s getting late, and this cat has a nap he’d like to get back to.”

“Late?” Red Hood looked up at the sky, which had only just lost the last color from dusk. There weren’t any stars.

“In Paris,” Marinette said dryly. “We’re a bit ahead of you.”

“Tell us about Hawkmoth,” Batman ordered, and she felt herself almost snap to attention. The man had a voice that made you want to listen, funnily enough for his seemingly reclusive nature as a vigilante.

“We’ve been fighting him for four years now,” Marinette started. “Our abilities are powered by the jewelry we wear- called the Miraculous- and Hawkmoth has two that we believe were stolen at least ten years ago, but it is quite possible that he has possessed them for longer. The Butterfly Broach gives him the ability to find people with large amounts of emotion- he generally targets those who are sad or angry- and he turns them into monstrous versions of the victims called Akuma. His partner, Mayura, uses the Peacock broach. It grants a similar ability, but it is able to transform items and not people into Sentimonsters that usually assist the Akumas Hawkmoth creates. She appears much less frequently, and her monsters are less reliable- they’ll disappear before battles are over, without warning.”

“And what do they want?” Robin asked, face hard.

She faced him again. “Hawkmoth’s ultimate goal is to claim both mine and Chat Noir’s Miraculous. They grant us, individually, the powers of Destruction and Creation. With the two combined, he would be able to rewrite the world in any way his heart desires- which is terrible enough, but each wish also comes with a severe price. The kind of price that once started the Black Plague, or sank Atlantis into the Sea.”

“He could rewrite history, crown himself King of everything, and then the world might split in two to balance it out or something?” Red Hood chuckled. “Kid, pull the other one.”

He was met with three faces of stone.

“We have watched Paris burn.” Chat said coldly, voice like ice. “We have watched it’s people drown. The whole city, reduced to rubble, people enslaved by the whims of this madman. Maybe, at the beginning, we laughed it off like you did. But this- monster- has attacked people for years, with no repercussions, and it is only by the grace of my Lady’s Miraculous Cure that Paris still exists.”

“Each time he does this- each time someone dies in battle, each time the Eiffel Tower is obliterated, each time we have to usher our people into safe houses and subways so they don’t have to see the bodies and the destruction-“ Abeille shook her head. “Each time could be the time he wins. Each time could be the time Ladybug can’t cast the Cure. Each time is another layer of proof that no matter what he wishes for, Hawkmoth could never wish for anything that wouldn’t be hurting someone, in some way, that he would never care or even think about.”

“And the Wish itself, Monsieur Hood,” Marinette took up, “is as ruthless as it is fair. Balance between luck and misfortune, between good and bad, between creation and destruction is the balance the fate of our world relies on. One man’s wish for a successful harvest after several lean years resulted in the eruption of Vesuvius and the destruction of Pompeii. With what Hawkmoth has shown he is willing to do- I would not trust him with these jewels if he were the last living hands on earth to place them into.”

The three heroes watched, silent, as their words sank in to the stunned vigilantes of Gotham.

TAGLIST:

@the-fusionist @rebecarojas07 @lowandco @kotaleartzu @resignedcatservant @alenee13 @mystery-5-5 @ladybug-182 @actual-disaster-human @loysydark @rumbelle18 @magic-miraculous @vixen-uchiha @athena452 @mochegato @ash-amg @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @thestressmademedoit @sassakitty @doriebell @toodaloo-kangaroo @myazael @theatreandcomicfreak @mer-mel @dahjokester @northernbluetongue @abrx2002 @area51qt @jessigurl-design @renscorpio @cici-schnee @multplelifes @redscarlet95 @razzledazzle247 @rosep16 @emotionalsupportginger @kceedraws @tired-butterfly @kuroko26 @catthhay @moonystars14 @shamefullove @shreky-boi @imanerddealwith @chaosace @captainmac6 @purple-people-eaters-productions @crazylittlemunchkin @weird-pale-blonde-person @bigpicklebananatree

#maribat #daminette #daminette soulmates #soulmate au #fanfic

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honeyedlashton · 4 years ago

Text

Thanks for Being a Friend

Words: 2170

Warning: some homophobic comments, and mentions of violence and bullying.

Ship: lashton fluff essentially

A/N: I haven’t written one of these in so long I forgot how to do it. Anyway. I’ve been sitting on this idea that Luke and Ashton met working at the same mall. A lot of it is based off of conversations I’ve had with hemmoangel so I can’t take all the credit. But anyway, this is how I think it went down. This is only for fluff and soft reasons. I’m trying to get back into the swing of little blurbs, so please be kind.

——————————————————————————

It wasn’t the first time Ashton had met him. He was sure they’d met before. Maybe when Ashton would only have a half shift at the KFC, and he’d catch a movie after work. He might’ve seen the boy at the consession stand. He’d probably bought popcorn from him. Better yet, he knew he remembered buying gum from him on one of his breaks every now and then. Who else was he supposed to go to when there was only a small sea of food court tables between him and a new pack of peppermint?

No, Ashton was very certain he’d seen him. Certain he’d kept his eyes out for this small, blonde boy—no matter how subconsciously he’d taken a notice. It was enough to remember his name.

��Luke”

That was what his little plastic name tag read. From the first day, to right now it stuck out in his memory. It was white plastic on a blue uniform shirt, Ashton always thought the color looked a little like Luke’s eyes—if a little darker.

Except today those eyes were covered by sunglasses. Little fluorescent green frames with black lenses. A bold fashion statement. The aviator frames took up half of the boy’s face, and his straightened blonde hair covered his forehead. This left only pink heart-shaped lips, a small pixie nose, and a delicate jaw as the only discernible features. But the glasses were the cause of torment from Ashton’s group of friends on this particular evening.

“Will you guys shut up, already?” Ashton huffed back at them as he handed Luke fifteen for their various drinks and snacks. “You’re all being really rude. And you owe me money on top of it.”

The three others in Ashton’s group silenced for a second, then whispered among themselves.

“What did I say? Shut up.” He rolled his eyes. “And give me 12 bucks while you’re at it. I’m not made of money, you know...”

Ashton was avoiding looking at Luke as he worked. His cheeks hot with embarrassment. Mostly, he didn’t want Luke thinking that he thought like his asshole friends. “Hey, I like your glasses, man. Don’t worry about it.” He cooed softly when the blonde had came back with their drinks.

Luke let off a wan smile, but nothing like the normal cheery one he would normally wear. “Thanks.”

One of them handed Ashton all 12 bucks, while the rest took the drinks Luke had made them and walked off. Ashton heard “faggot” leave one of his friend’s mouths, and he looked up at Luke instantly. His mouth already poised to apologize.

But the pain he expected on Luke’s face—or the half that wasn’t behind the glasses—had been painted over into a sort of barely noticeable pout. “Have a good show,” he wasn’t sure if Luke’s voice was wobbling or if he’d misheard, but Ashton’s heart broke for him anyway.

“Luke, I’m so sorry about them. I’m not even friends with these assholes.”

“It’s okay,” Luke whispered, busying himself with toweling up a nonexistent puddle on the counter.

“No really, I’m so sorry...here,” Ashton bit his lip and looked between Luke’s pale hands and the other members of his party. “I’ll be right back.”

Luke didn’t seem to care about anything Ashton was saying, but he left anyway. He went to his group. “Which one is the Diet Coke?” He asked them cooly.

One of them handed Ashton one of the paper cups with the blue cinema logo on the outside. Ashton smiled without emotion and mimicked Luke. “Have a good show, assholes.”

He actually reveled their confused faces. And when faced with questions like: “What? Where are you going?” and “You’re not gonna hang with that kid, right?” Ashton only smirked.

“Well, it beats hanging with you losers.” He shrugged and sipped the drink through the straw. “Ugh, this is your Coke Zero, actually.” Ashton traded it and flicked them off as he left, feeling higher than life.

However that came to a halt when he got back to Luke, who looked like he’d rather be anywhere other than behind that counter. Thankfully there weren’t that many people around, and none of them were looking to buy popcorn. “Have you taken your break yet?” He asked softly.

Luke shook his head softly, and Ashton could see the little sliver of a blush under the rim of Luke’s glasses. And then he noticed a single tear clung to his jaw.

“What do you get? Fifteen minutes? It’s dead now, why don’t we go sit for a little bit.”

“I don’t know you,” Luke said softly.

“Mmm,” Ashton nodded. “Alright. I’m Ashton Irwin. I’m sixteen. I work at KFC across the food court, and sometimes I buy gum from you.”

“Oh...” Luke nodded.

“See? Now we’re not complete strangers,” Ashton cooed smoothly. But when Luke didn’t answer, he leaned against the counter. “Look, I don’t associate with them. Or I won’t anymore if that’s their stance on shit.”

After an agonizing second of silence, Luke finally looked up. “Where are we going?”

“Anywhere you want. Any place that calms you down. It’s a big mall.”

“Can we go by the fountain?” Luke whimpered, letting through some of the sadness in his voice that he had so obviously been trying to hide.

“Of course,” Ashton whispered like he were talking to a wounded child.

Luke went through the process of clocking out for his fifteen minute break, and Ashton walked close to him, like he was scared someone else would say something cruel to this boy.

“I recognize you,” Luke said after a minute of silence. “Not only from you getting gum, but sometimes I see you get an ice cream.”

“You must have really good eyesight,” Ashton cooed. “My eyes are shit. I can barely see ten feet ahead of me. Unless I’m buying gum from you, or I’m this close, I can’t see you at all,” he teased to lighten the mood.

Luke smiled softly.

“Want an ice cream?” Ashton bumped shoulders with the smaller boy.

“Uh...” Luke hesitated, “no. No, I’m okay.”

“That’s not very convincing. What flavor do you want?”

“Uh...whatever flavor you’re getting is fine. You really don’t have to.”

“Don’t say that. I want to. It would make you feel better right?”

“Well yeah, but—.”

“Then it’s a necessity,” Ashton purred and ordered two cones of strawberry cheesecake. “This good?”

“Yeah,” Luke nodded. “Yes, thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Ashton sat him down on the edge of the fountain. It had little black fish sculptures shooting water out of their mouths. It gave a nice ambient sound. A nice break from the monotone chatter and mall music.

The small boy ate the Ice cream more readily than he’d accepted it.

“Luke, can I ask you a question?” Luke nodded. “Why the choice to wear the glasses?”

“I...uh...I didn’t really have one,” Luke fidgeted with his ice cream cone, chewing at the edge of the cone making a little satisfying crunches.

“Why? You got a black eye or something?” Ashton was only half joking, but when he saw the corners of Luke’s lips turn down, he knew he’d accidentally stumbled upon the answer. “Oh no...”

Luke’s frown turned more into a grimace. “That word doesn’t really hurt me anymore, but today it kinda got to me,” Luke whispered, and lowered the glasses enough to see a purple line right under Luke’s tearful blue eyes. Or at least the only clear eye Ashton could see. Not the worst black eye he’d ever seen, but definitely couldn’t have been fun to get. Ashton didn’t dare ask what happened.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t honestly think you were hiding anything. I swear. I have a really shit coping mechanism where I try to make jokes.”

“It’s fine. You’re the nicest person I’ve talked to today,” Luke said gently. “I don’t know how I can repay you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Ashton shook his head.

“You’re being so nice to me. Why?”

“Well I don’t like the idea of someone picking on the little guy. Especially when he deserves it the least in the world.”

Luke looked away and Ashton could see the pink in his cheeks. “You don’t know me.”

“I want to...” Ashton smiled softly. “You seem pretty cool. I think you’d make a great friend.”

“You’d probably be the first to think that, I’m not very interesting.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” Ashton shook his head. “I think there’s more to you than you give yourself credit for.”

“Yeah, I’m the fag who gets beaten up,” Luke scoffed.

“Every school’s got one...” Ashton added.

Ashton could tell Luke’s gaze was more pointed when he looked at him this time. “...are you...?”

Ashton shrugged noncommittally. “I don’t think it really matters.”

Luke nodded slowly. “Well I am...your friends were right.”

“They’re not gonna be my friends anymore.” Ashton hummed. “But you are.”

“I am?”

“If you want.”

“Okay,” Luke nodded.

“You can have my number, too,” Ashton offered after a second. “Or like we could be friends on Facebook.”

“You would? I don’t have very good photos up...”

“Neither do I. Mine are all embarrassing,” Ashton smiled softly to ease Luke’s mind.

“Okay. Yeah,” Luke nodded softly, then smiled again. “Yeah, I’ll add you.”

Ashton smiled and took out his phone. “Is it just Luke or Lucas?”

“Just Luke. And Hemmings as the last name.”

Ashton hummed and giggled on his own inner monologue. “What?” Luke looked at him, he could almost hear some anxiousness in his voice.

“Oh nothing, it’s not you. I had an algebra teacher who’s last name was Hemmings.”

“Was her name Liz?” Luke perked up.

“Yeah, is she related to you?” Ashton definitely saw a resemblance.

“Uh-huh! That’s my mum!” Luke grinned.

“Oh,” Ashton cooed and added Luke as a friend. Remembering how kind and firm Mrs. Hemmings was. He imagined she was a good mother if Luke could be out and open. “It’s a small world,” was all he said though.

“Thank you for this, Ashton,” Luke cooed holding up his ice cream cone. “And for uh, I guess taking me out of there. It’s been a really rough day.”

“Hey,” Ashton bumped their shoulders again with a little smile. “I’m just upset it took something like this to make me talk to you in the first place. I think you’re really...sweet.”

Luke looked at his feet, his expression unreadable.

“We should probably get you back. You think you’re gonna be okay?”

“Y-yeah,” Luke stammered, but he seemed confident as he nodded.

Ashton took his extra napkin that was wadded up in his fist and tossed it in the garbage as they walked back, making him look a lot more skilled than he was. “And don’t let anyone call you that. It’s your word. Not theirs.”

“I’m not really gonna stand up for myself. Everyone knows I’m weak.”

“No, you’re not weak. You’re strong enough to be out.”

“It’s not as fun as it sounds.”

“You’ve got me. And maybe a few other friends who are on your side?”

“I’ve got one, but his boyfriend is really mean to me.”

“Well you tell him that an upperclassman is gonna beat him up if he crosses you again,” Ashton cooed.

“Really?”

“If that’s what you need.”

“You’re the nicest person ever...” Luke looked up at him, his voice soft. Ashton blushed for some reason.

“I could say the same for you.”

Luke just smiled with a soft blush.

“Hey, I’ve got a band and a gig on Saturday, I don’t know if you’ve already made plans, but it’d be cool if you came.”

“Okay,” Luke nodded a little. “I’ll have to ask my mum to drive me, but okay.”

Ashton smiled, and sighed in relief. “Good. I’ll send you the details on Facebook...”

“Yeah I’d like that,” Luke nodded, and the moment seemed to linger. Both of them dreading the part where they’d have to leave. At least that’s what Ashton was thinking. “I should uh—.”

“Yeah, yeah you should get back,” Ashton nodded and his cheeks burned a little as he awkwardly stood in the entrance of the cinema. “It wouldn’t look good if I just hung around.”

“No probably not,” Luke giggled softly. Actually giggled. Ashton felt his heart skip, so proud of Luke. So proud of the 15 minutes they’d spent trying to help him feel better.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Ashton cooed. “I’m running low on gum.”

“Tomorrow,” Luke smiled gently.

Ashton nodded and let Luke go back to the concession stand, and Ashton sat outside on the curb trying to make his heart slow down. Was he really so shy? Was he really so nervous to be friends with Luke?

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and among the string of texts from his friends, there was a notification on Facebook.

“Luke Hemmings accepted your friend request” and Ashton breathed a sigh of relief. He’d text him later, for now it was enough that he’d accepted anything at all.

29 notes · View notes

samwrights · 4 years ago

Note

I’m sorry but ukai with a breeding kink😳yes PLEASE

I swear I saw another ask that asked for Ukai with an impreg kink

*ahem* anyways—WOW this one was a doozy but holy shit did I have fun writing it. 11k words you guys. 11. K. It is a lot so grab some cocoa or coffee and a blanket because this is a read. It even has to be split into two parts because I hit the fucking text limit, BUT this also means there is no actual smut in this portion. You can find that here.

If you guys need some ear candy, I recommend the following:

Day N Nite (Crooker’s Remix) by Kid Cudi

Pursuit of Happiness (Extended version with Steve Aoki) by Kid Cudi

Breaking Me by Topic

C’Mon by Ke$ha

Flannel by The Cardboard Swords (it has to be sad somewhere)

Magic in the Hamptons by Social House

Fun fact: Ke$ha was actually the primary inspiration for this fic and for DJ!Ukai. God bless her.

Warnings: language, nicotine and alcohol consumption, implied drug use, implied emotionally abusive relationship, breeding/impreg kink, dirty talk, rough sex, risky sex, road head, slight dub-con, praise, multiple smut scenes, 3rd person POV reader-insert—because the word ‘you’ just didn’t seem to fit.

Without further ado, please enjoy the filthy depths of my brain followed by a relatively happy ending that I’ve titled, “Between the Lines’” :-)

“You’ve been more tired lately, and you’re showing up right when practice starts. Is everything okay?” Was the question that Takeda had asked Ukai Keishin that haunted him for years to come. Sure, he had wanted to gain more independence from his parents, wanted to start being more adult-like and take over the mortgage and the bills so his parents could finally rest. At the age of twenty-six, it seemed like a good idea at the time. With four years passing, however, Keishin was so damn tired, but it wasn’t like he could just stop working.

He was still tending to crops every morning, tending to the shop, coaching for Karasuno, but in the four years time, he had adopted one more job on the weekends—Ukai Keishin was a local nightclub DJ. He’d discovered the job opportunity one fateful night that he was out with his friends from the neighborhood association. To this day, he was still unsure of why he was approached with the job, especially considering he didn’t know the first thing about being a DJ, but the woman who had offered him the position had taught him everything he needed to know.

It turned out that he had a natural affinity for the position, seeing as he was still at it years later under the alias Spira. Ukai kept telling himself that he would quit the gig eventually because there was no way he could continue working four jobs—it was inhuman and the money didn’t even really matter to him. Okay, that last one is a lie; his DJ gig has been a substantial contributor to his savings funds to the point where he was even able to afford a newer, larger, (and slightly) used SUV in full compared to his tiny, old yellow beater. Even his mortgage bills were starting to look less daunting with the current cash flow.

Who needs sleep anyway? Ukai survived and thrived off of nicotine and caffeine anyway. Besides, sleep was the last thing on his mind whenever he set foot into the club. It was impossible to think of anything other than the writhing bodies of sweaty, young adults that were already drunk or high or were practically fucking each other with their clothes on. Perhaps that was part of the reason Keishin felt the need to quit this job—he was envious. Envious of the fact that he never got to indulge in his youth like these kids did; he started working and helping his family out right away after college. Sure, he went out here and there, but these twenty-something-year-olds were living their best life, while he was thirty and catering to their whims.

To say he was a bit bitter would be an understatement.

Bitterness aside, however, it did him good to see the youth enjoying exactly that—their youth. They got to do as they pleased between exams and becoming functioning members of society and, while he was jealous, Ukai was proud to be able to contribute to their pleasure.

He’d arrived to the club early, as he often did, to try to grab a drink before he was due for stage time. Ukai was thankful the bartenders knew him enough that he didn’t have to verbally order considering the music was too loud to hear him in the first place. A rum and coke manifests itself in a small, plastic cup that the blonde raises in thanks before weaving and bobbing around the various partygoers. For the most part, he’s successful in dodging the flailing bodies as he mutely notes the very upbeat remix of some female pop artist playing.

But only remotely successful as Keishin attempts to salvage his drink from spilling as he raises it over his head as one of the partygoers is pushed into him. “Hey, careful!” He snaps toward the younger, [hair color]ed woman. She only looks half-offended by the scolding, but otherwise unperturbed. If anything, the dominating expression on her face was confusion.

“Coach Ukai?” He’s surprised to hear both his given name and his title, let alone coming from a club patron, as they all knew him as Spira. Recognition slips his mind entirely—he’s never met this girl in any way that he can remember. Certainly, he would never forget crossing paths with this beauty, even if she was dressed in a similarly juvenile fashion to the other ravers. Tight crop top tee cinched together by a knot at the midriff, with army green high-waisted shorts attempting to cover the bare skin, face painted with makeup, glitter, and sweat; even underneath the garb, she brought forth no recollection. “Uh, d-do you remember me?” It’s a challenge to hear over the music, but she presses forward close enough that her lips are right in Keishin’s ear.

“Can’t say that I do,” he yells right back into hers.

“Karasuno class of twenty-twelve, I was Sugawara’s girlfriend.” Oh.

Oh.

Now he remembered, vaguely, but he doesn’t ever remember her looking like this. The last four years had been incredibly kind to her, in more ways than one. Back in her Karasuno days, [name] had always looked pleasant, for lack of better term. But there was always a lifeless, matted, dull glaze to her eyes that screamed she was searching for something more. While it was still somewhat present, there was a substantial joyous air around her. It looked good on her. However, as much as Ukai wanted to stay and admire, he had to go get set up for the evening. Or rather, that was the excuse he used when he said he would catch her after the show. “[name], did you know who that was?” The woman in question gives a nod, confused at the sudden star struck gawks that her friends held.

“Uh, yeah? My ex-boyfriend’s volleyball coach?”

“No dude, that was the DJ, Spira.”

“What?”

Being the closing act meant a lot of different things to Ukai Keishin. On the negative spectrum, it meant he was going to have to tend to crops as soon as he finished cleaning up his set. That also meant he wasn’t going to get to go to bed until nearly eight in the morning after his shift at the farm. Yet, for him, the positives greatly outweighed the negatives. For Keishin, watching the audience lose themselves in euphoria, albeit probably a drug-induced one, just hit different for him. It was a sense of satisfaction that only came from a select few activities, with coaching volleyball being the other major contributor. There was just something about the way the crowd was overwhelmed and screaming the second underground remixes of old Kid Cudi tracks with his own twists overtook the speakers that granted Keishin a sense of enlightenment.

For him, being a DJ allowed an audience to flow and vibe with the journey of his life and all its constant up and down motions while under the guise of anonymity. As Spira, Ukai opened up the complexity and conflicting feelings of his inner mind and brought it to fruition through his mixes. He felt that in his soul, he’d done his art of storytelling justice. The audience felt it. Hell, his mom at home probably felt it. Perhaps it was one of the main reasons this dingy, hole-in-the-wall club kept asking him to come back every weekend.

His mind wanders further as he clutches an electronic cigarette in his hand, mixing beats on the turntable while taking hits of nicotine in between. He wonders if the girl he had ran into just a few minutes prior had been frequenting here as often as he had. Then, thinking back to what little information she supplied earlier, Ukai’s mind drifts off to the former third-year setter from when he first started coaching. Sugawara was a nice boy with a firm, almost parental, hand that walked dangerously along the lines of being a partner and being a control freak. When it came to his relationship, things had to go his way. And while his girlfriend that came to every tournament was much more outspoken yet easy going, she was opinionated and didn’t shy from confrontation.

Now that the coach had given it more thought, it was a wonder that one tolerated the other at any point in time. If anything, Ukai imagines the two of them would typically be at each other’s throats. From the few times he had interacted with her, she was always more free spirited and couldn’t be weighed down by any one else’s opinion, but seeing her now was different—she was in her element in the dingy, dark club with the glitter on her cheekbones refracting light off of her face. There was laughter and true, unabashed joy on her face. She had a light of her own—like she was ray of sunshine in the center of a storm.

Three hours past midnight when the club closed was always Keishin’s sign to leave, regardless of the countless attempts to attend the after party he’d been invited to. He had to go to work, after all. Sure, a part of him had always been a little green with envy at all the DJs that got to hook up with club patrons after, but after being at this gig for a few years, he figured that the right girl for him would eventually come to him if he continued working on himself. After all, he didn’t want to just have a string of one night stands with a bunch of fresh adults that could barely function after the small drop of Malibu rum—he was too old for that.

“Uh, coach?” [name] felt strange calling him that, but she didn’t feel familiar enough with him to address him otherwise. He was halfway in his car, the blonde ready to leave for the weekend to go back to his regular day-to-day work. “You coming to the after party?” [name] asks when Keishin only looks at her in question, cigarette hanging betwixt his dry lips.

“No, I actually have to go to work right now.”

“Oh,” she doesn’t mean to express her disappointment, but it slips anyway, “guess I’ll catch you later then?”

“Uh, yeah.” A tight lipped hybrid of a pained grin and grimace crosses her wet, gloss covered lips. Without another word, Ukai closes his car door, a little more brusquely than he intended to, before backing out and leaving the young woman to her own devices. His mind wanders once again with him humming absentmindedly to the soft acoustic punk playing over the car radio. His eyes are focused on the passing greenery, the cars that are weaving and bobbing off the freeway—hell he even noticed the way the tendrils of the sun are just barely starting to peak over the horizon because it reminded him of her. A thought he banishes immediately because he feels creepy for even thinking that.

Yet no matter how much scenery flitted through his honey eyes, his mind keeps traveling back to one thing, or rather one person, only.

Goddammit.

On Monday’s practice, Ukai Keishin’s mind is flooding and drowning in memories of his first year as the volleyball club’s coach. It was as if his mind was coercing him to attempt to reach out to the girl that plagued his mind for the last forty-eight hours or so. Though, he had no way of contacting her. Instead, with every step along the wooden floors, he can remember the way she would walk Suga to practice, almost physically seeing her standing in the doorway to kiss the third-year setter goodbye. As if he could see her sitting underneath the third window from the left, quietly doing homework and exchanging small talk and airy laughter with Kiyoko and Daichi. As if he could see the same sunny smile she gave in the audience from Saturday night at the club between the lines of the woodwork in the floorboards.

It was a repeating pattern day in and day out that was beginning to make Ukai question his sanity.

“Hey, man,” his assistant coach and fellow Karasuno alumni, Tsukishima Akiteru, places a hand on his shoulder and looks at him in worry. “Are you okay? You’ve been out of it all week.” In what world did a week translate into three days, the older blonde coach didn’t know.

“I’m fine, just tired,” Keishin all but bites back. He didn’t want to admit his conscious had been running rampant with thoughts of a girl he’d briefly met at a club. It felt almost as disturbing and perverted as it sounded in his mind.

“The team’s worried about you. Why don’t you take an early weekend and get some rest? We’ll see you back on Monday, yeah?” Normally, Ukai would have vehemently refused. However, his circumstances were far from normal and he was gracious for an assistant coach he trusted wholeheartedly to do the work that needed to be done. And so, Ukai heeded Akiteru’s advice and went home before practice even began on Thursday afternoon.

It was slightly disorienting for him to go home and nap, but he was incredibly thankful for the gift. Waking up just before he was technically supposed to start his shift at the shop, Keishin jumps into a cold shower to bring him to life before heading downstairs. A bellowing yawn passes his lips through his teeth as he starts his evening. Maybe his team was right—he really did need a break. Thankfully, he knew that the second the doors to the Sakanoshita were locked, he was done for the evening and wouldn’t need to reawaken until three the following morning. Just a few more hours until then, he thought.

With it being a slower evening as well, Ukai was able to kick his feet up on the counter as he always did, pull open the newspaper from earlier in the morning and casually flip through. Briefly, he considers giving up one of his four jobs because this was something he missed doing. But consideration aside, he was far too in love with the cash flow and the thought of paying off his mortgage to entertain the thought for long. Maybe one day, he would finally sell the Sakanoshita store or quit helping on the farm—

“You still work here?” Huh. Her voice sounds different when it isn’t drowning under the speakers of a nightclub.

“I do own this place, you know.” Ukai snarks at the woman who’d been consuming his brain for the last week. She looks different without glitter reflecting off of her unreal cheekbones or the heavy layers of foundation and eyeshadow. Even more than before, Keishin definitely recognized [name] now. “What are you doing here anyway?”

“Shopping,” she snorts as if it were the most obvious thing, “why else would I be at a store?”

“Dunno, maybe you’re just here to see me.” Ukai responds without skipping a beat, turning the page of the paper to play into his guise that he wasn’t the slightest bit surprised at [name]’s presence.

“Uh...actually...” her voice is quiet, prompting the coach to quirk a brow and fold up the paper he was now pretending to read. It wasn’t like he could focus on anything right now outside of the woman standing before him, spearated only by a thin counter. Without talking again, his brown eyes lock with hers, silently goading for her to continue speaking. “I-I just...I don’t know. It was just really weird to see you at the club and then to find out that you’re Spira on top of that. I haven’t seen anyone from Karasuno since I graduated and—“

“Woah, kid, breathe.” Ukai interrupts her before she can continue spewing word vomit at a hundred miles an hour. “So what if I’m Spira? Though, you better not tell anyone that. My stage name is a secret between us, alright?” For a moment she’s quiet, gears turning in her head. The secrecy didn’t make sense to her because, if anything, he should be proud of the fact that he’s rather well known in the underground electronica scene. Or at least, she was in his stead, because [name] would have been proud of Ukai regardless of whatever occupation he held.

She supposed it came with the territory of having an unrequited crush on the coach years ago, that continued well beyond high school and even university, back when she was still dating Sugawara Koushi. It was the reason she had even bothered to come sit in on his practices and partially the reason she would come to his tournaments and matches. Not that she didn’t want to be supportive of her then-boyfriend—it would have been a fight had she not—but seeing the hot older coach was definitely a bonus in her book. “But why?” She offers, not wanting conversation to end despite her not having actually bought anything.

“If the school ever caught wind of me doing that, I could lose my position as the coach. Some shit about Karasuno’s image or whatever.” [name] gives a small nod, fidgeting subconsciously, as an attempt to shake her nerves and anxiety, by sifting through various candy bars that were in front of her before grabbing her favorite. Without a second thought, she peels the wrapper before placing the candy between her lips, the puffy pink skin greatly contrasting the chocolate coating. “Ya gonna pay for that, kid?” Ukai irks, his honey brown eyes steeling over in irritation. The nickname she’s given hits the final nail on the coffin and seals away [name]’s trepidation. Instead, her own sass comes out to join the fun.

“Nah,” she hums playfully, the chocolate-covered wafer cookie crunching between her teeth. “Quit calling me kid, coach. I’m a lady,” the irony isn’t lost on either of them as she speaks with her mouth full.

“Still a kid, kid. And quit calling me coach, I’m not your damn coach.” The familiar, grumpy attitude of his brings [name] back to the Ukai she knew back in high school. In a mix of nostalgia, warmth washes over her as the haughty tone in his voice sent shivers down her spine like it did a few years back.

“Sure thing, coach,” she teases again before tossing the wrapper of the stolen candy bar into the nearest bin. “You’re at the club tomorrow, right?” The question adds a bit of context and confirmation to Ukai—it seems she knew when Spira was performing, meaning she must have been a patron for a decent amount of time. Part of him wonders how she never realized who he was before, another part wonders how he’s never noticed her considering she could make all traffic stop if she stood in the middle of a freeway. At least, that’s what looking at her did to his heart.

“Yeah?”

“Maybe this time, you’ll join us at the after party.” Without another word, [name] pushes herself away from the counter she’d been leaning on while talking to the blonde man. With Akiteru giving him the weekend off, he actually entertained the thought of attending this time. Even if her invitation was rather blasé and indirect, he didn’t see the opportunity of him attending one presenting itself any time soon. He may be old, by his own standard, but there was a unknown allure to the thought of showing up to a wild party with a woman that was so adamant of his attendance.

Or rather, adamant in his mind. Whether she actually wanted his company remained to be seen, but the curiosity was gnawing at him, and was something he would have to unearth sooner rather than later.

Having an entire night, or a day’s worth, of rest was a rather disorienting, yet pleasant feeling for Ukai. After tending to crops and returning home in the early hours of the morning, the blonde coach was able to catch a solid nine hours of sleep before his shift at the Sakanoshita store with another chance to nap before he needed to head to the club. Despite knowing he had the ability to do so before another restless night, his mind felt the need to keep him awake and alert. Even after showering and styling his blonde tresses into their usual mane—mundane acts that usually came to him automatically—he was hyper aware of the slightest unruly flyaways.

Ukai Keishin was nervous.

He didn’t know what to wear or if there was a dress code or if anything he typically wore would be deemed worthy of an after party. A part of him wanted to leave it alone and let him sport his usual white track pants and tight, maroon muscle tank, but that part of him immediately drowns in the ocean of his anxiety. Another string in his brain prompted him to dress up just a little bit to help him look the part—it had nothing to do with impressing a certain club patron, no—he tried to convince himself. A miserable attempt, but still one nonetheless.

Eventually, he settled on crisp, dark-washed jeans that hugged his muscular legs without being suffocating, paired with a vibrant, crimson muscle tee that hugged his biceps all the same. Ukai still felt a little out of place in the attire, as he often had back when he first assumed the alias Spira, but headed out the door of his apartment before his conscious could dispute it.

He was early again, even more so than normal. Desperate for a drink to calm his nerves and replace his blood with liquid courage, Ukai worms his way around to the bar, signaling the attendant for his usual. Rum and coke in hand, the DJ stands off to the side, hiding like a wallflower, while he studied the sweaty, dancing bodies. Did he know why he was looking for her—no. Maybe partially to tell her she owed him for the candy bar, maybe to tell her he was joining in on the after party this time around.

Maybe to just see her.

Keishin banishes the last thought with a shake of his head before skulking off to the attached patio to smoke. Pulling a cigarette from his pack and a lighter from his pocket, the flame torches the end of the filter at the same time the blonde inhales. Forcefully pushing the smoke out past his lips, Ukai takes a hearty sip of his drink until it’s nearly gone. He was going to need something stronger tonight.

“Is it that time already?” The older man’s head snaps to the voice that had been haunting him subconsciously.

Part of him wishes he didn’t look.

As if to play into her question, [name] checks the large, rose gold watch on her right wrist—an incredibly stark contrast to her outfit for the evening. Maybe it was a hunch when Ukai felt that he had been underdressed, as if his intuition knew that she was going to be dressed to the nines in a black skater dress. Even with a modest neckline, the lace cut out detailing on the sides of the dress accentuated her curves impeccably, playing well with the volume of the skirt, while the open back she was sporting dipped dangerously low.

It took everything in Ukai to not throw every milliliter of restraint and inhibition out the window and fuck her right then and there.

Taking a lengthy drag of his cigarette to hold himself back, Keishin inhales deeply, the smoke billowing past his lips emerging densely and grey in color. “I’m a little early—needed an extra drink today.” The man manages to choke out, downing whatever is left in his little plastic cup for added emphasis.

“Need another?” [name] chirps politely; almost too politely as if to deliberately dispute the salacious thoughts flooding the coaches mind.

“I can get—“

“I owe you anyway,” she reminds him, alluding to the candy bar she had eaten without paying for from the previous night. “Pick your poison.”

“Double rum and coke.” He concedes. [name]’s lips twitch upward slightly at the corner before she plucks the empty cup from Ukai’s hand. He doesn’t miss the way the shellac on her nails grazes against his skin, leaving the whispers of contact to run warm. Immediately, the blonde man uses the nearly dead cigarette between his teeth to light a fresh one—heaven or hell knows he needed the nicotine right now.

Given the silence, Keishin takes the opportunity to absorb his surroundings. From the general direction that [name] initially came from, she wasn’t around any of her friends or really anyone that he knew. That was good at least; there wasn’t anybody else that knew of his presence. [name] returns, two clear plastic cups in her hands and surrenders the darker of the two to the man awaiting. “Hold mine for a sec?” Without thinking, Keishin holds his cigarette between his left index and middle fingers, his drink in the same hand, while taking hers. To his surprise, she pulls out her own pack of menthols and a torch lighter, setting the leaves ablaze before taking her obvious vodka cranberry back.

“You took up smoking?” The older of the two asks in surprise, noting the way her lipstick leaves the slightest bit of residue along the brown filter. [name] gives a shrug.

“Surprised you didn’t notice it sooner, coach. I’ve been smoking since second year.” Ukai gives a roll of his eyes at the use of this strange pet name he’s been dubbed by her. But he thinks about it, thinks about how Suga must have felt probably knowing that she did. Thinks how it just added to this strange, sassy yet happy, wild and free exterior she now had. And [name] notices instantly the very same look Ukai had in his face when he was trying to strategize, trying to figure out a way to navigate a conversation with his team about becoming better—she knows what’s coming next. “Yeah, yeah, I know I should quit or whatever. Suga lost that argument a long time ago.”

“Can’t really tell you what to do when I’m just as guilty.” Ukai gives a laugh—one that is embedded with bitterness and envy at the mention of the third-year setter—yet is just as vivacious as he is. A sound entirely different than she’d ever heard leave his lungs before. She likes it.

After finishing his smoke, Keishin gulps down a hefty swig of his drink before patting [name] on the shoulder before announcing his departure. “I’ll see you inside,” the girl, woman, calls out thoughtfully as she gives a small wave with her cigarette filter between her fingers. Ukai doesn’t verbalize the same sentiment. He doesn’t want to slip up and admit he’ll be looking for her.

But it’s painfully obvious that he is when he takes over the booth. Unable to hide the fact that with every chance that he looks into the audience, he’s searching for that black skater dress that hugs her all too perfectly, [hair color] locks swaying as she moves in the crowd. Ukai can’t hide it at all—not behind the turn table or new remixes meant to get the crowd moving.

He can’t hide the urgency he feels to find her outside in the crisp evening air, smoking on the back patio of the club after his set. [name] is talking and laughing with her friends while thin grey smoke billows from her open mouth before her eyes land on him. Some of her friends take notice to the tension and their shared gazes, some of them whispering his alias in excitement. But [name] just smiles knowingly, if not a little cocky, because she can see that urgency, that desperation, that Ukai was trying to hide. “Wait, [name], do you know Spira?” A bystander asked. Clearly, they weren’t present the last time this was brought up.

“Yeah, I may have met him once or twice,” the woman in question snickers as she strides over closer and closer to the aforementioned DJ.

“Cute,” Ukai sneers teasingly at her jab before instinctively reaching for the half-gone cigarette she pulls to her stained lips. At first, she thought he was going to put it out, considering their little conversation from a few hours ago. Instead, the volleyball coach puts the filter to his own lips, noting the damp fabric probably from her freshly applied lipgloss, and takes a drag. It tasted like watermelons and mint.

“Cheeky,” [name] returns, plucking her cancer stick back from the blonde man. While her friends are still behind her murmuring about the familiarity between the two of them, Keishin and [name] are lost in their own little world. “So since your set is over, and considering you’re still here, I’m assuming you’re joining me for the after party? Or do you have to go to work again?”

“I told them I’d be out of town this weekend,” Ukai tries to play it off as nonchalantly as he could, ties to swallow it down his nerves with rum and nicotine. It proves rather difficult considering the coy smile on [name]’s face is wearing and cracking through his resolve rather quickly. But at least, to him, he could confirm his mind was not playing tricks on him and [name] was just as adamant about his attendance as he initially thought. Even more so with her next statement.

“Cool. Your car or mine?” It took him a minute to process her words even—lust thickening and constricting the flow to his brain at the vague question. Ukai was getting far too ahead of himself, but goddammit how could he focus when the fabric of her skirt hit her mid-thigh and framed her like a Venetian goddess—“I don’t mind driving there.” She adds to coax him away from his silence.

“Nah, I got it. We’ll take mine.”

“Lead the way,” [name] chimes sweetly as she wraps an arm around the coach’s forearm. The physical touch is everything he’s been fantasizing about for the last few days—hellfire and brimstone and sunlight and goddammit why did he wear jeans that were only getting tighter and tighter?

Ukai opens the passenger door to his SUV, supporting the woman as she clambered in cautiously so as not to stumble from her heels. Getting settled in, the coach surrenders his unlocked phone to allow her the entirety of his music library. The irony of the DJ surrendering DJ rights to the passenger was not lost on either of them. Much to his surprise, [name] put on soft acoustic punk as he usually did on his way home from the club. The kind of softness one would turn on to accompany the fragile pitter-patter of rain against the windshield. “Cardboard Swords?” Ukai asks in surprise, more than familiar with the band.

“Flannel is a favorite of mine. I’m kind of surprised it’s in your library.” She adds after she begins directing him to this evening’s party location. From the corner of his eyes, he can see the way her full lips are moving along each word with expertise. He sees the way her [eye color] orbs soften slightly and he can tell this song hits home for her.

She’ll never say why—she’ll never tell him this was the song that helped her move on from Sugawara Koushi while restoring her inner peace.

But Keishin is no fool. He can tell that this is physically hurting her—crushing her soul into the leather seat of his car and, instinctually, he wraps a large hand around hers that’s resting in her lap. “I came out tonight to have fun with you, so don’t you go getting sad on me.” He means each word with innocent intent, yet he cannot ignore the almost hidden, salacious drip to each syllable and neither can she. How could she when his touch sent volts of electricity through her skin?

“Right, right,” she says in a conceding tone, switching the audio to something much more upbeat and a little flirty. “Why did you agree to go out tonight?” If Ukai had an answer, then it died on his lips as he let go of [name]’s hand to reach for another cigarette. The process of lighting the tube, inhaling, and exhaling bought him an extra minute to come up with an excuse; her doing the same giving him another thirty seconds.

“I don’t know.” It’s a blatant lie—a lie that [name] believes all too easily—but Ukai can’t bring himself to admit the truth. He can’t admit out loud that she’s the only thing that’s been on his mind all week or that he jumped at the opportunity, created one even, to be able to have a one-on-one moment with her. Keishin can’t admit that he can tell there are intricate webs spun in her mind and that all he wants to do is untangle them one by one.

And he certainly can’t tell her that even the mere sight of her sends his brain into overdrive and all he wants to do is repeatedly fill her over and over with his seed until she is entirely his, inside and out in mind, body, and soul. There was no way in the nine circles of hell that Ukai Keishin was going to admit to his sinful thoughts.

“It’s just up here.” [name] points with gaunt fingers, cigarette between them as her voice is half choked from inhaling her own smoke. Mirroring the man’s actions earlier, she indulged in her own nicotine habit to quell the budding disappointment from Ukai’s lackluster response. They drove up a slight winding hill and as the trees pass by, the itch for her truth and her history was gnawing at him. He wanted to know why this rambunctious party girl invited him all week to these elusive after parties. Why Flannel ate away at her insides like it did his. Why did her and Sugawara breakup?

But he decides against it for the moment.

“Where are we?” Ukai asks. There’s cars all lining the sides of the road of varying worth—he felt even more out of place than normal with his older SUV, even if it was an upgrade for him, considering the large number of luxury vehicles.

“Bevelle’s house.” [name] says simply, pointing to an empty space in the streets as she throws the butt of her cigarette into the road. The casual way she name drops the owner of the club makes him gawk, catching flies in his mouth had there been any at the hour. With a satisfied, cheesy grin, she hops out of her seat and walks in the grass to meet Ukai on the other side as he clambers out of the vehicle as well. In familiarity, she grips into his forearm once again as they walk towards the forest mansion.

Keishin wasn’t sure what to expect when the two of them walked in, but a home full of people screaming his pseudonym and her name was not on that list. Younger hordes had surrounded [name], greeting her warmly and telling her how glad they were to see her again for the evening. Others were approaching Ukai, telling them how rare and a momentous occasion that the infamous artist Spira was amongst their midst.

“Glad to see you could join us, Spira.” His boss and club owner, Bevelle, approaches the mismatched couple. Bevelle was an alias used by the middle aged woman, her real name unknown to those that didn’t know her know her, and was once upon a time her stage name. While she had chosen a quiet location in the Miyagi prefecture, Bevelle was quite known in the underground scene. Granted, Ukai didn’t know any of that when he’d taken the job. If anything, it was all thanks to her that he was able to learn for his own success as well as granting him the opportunity to learn in the first place. “Good to see you too, trouble.” Bevelle affectionately goes to muss at [name]’s hair, to which she only replies with a cheeky grin.

“How do you know Bevelle?” Ukai presses his lips towards the ear of the woman still hanging onto him as she expertly leads the way to the kitchen. The car ride left her feeling slightly uncomfortable, ashamed even though she would never admit to that, and she knew she definitely needed a drink after it. Part of her was heavily rebuking herself for trying to pry into his mind by asking why he came along, even more so when she put on the one song that shattered her heart every time she heard it. It just excited her that he had it in his library, that he even knew who The Cardboard Swords were, and that he enjoyed the same obscure taste in music as much as she did.

“She’s a close family friend!” The chirp that [name] gives isn’t entirely convincing, like she isn’t telling the truth. Regardless, Ukai washes down his doubt with the beer he was handed, figuring she probably had her reasons. And as soon as the plastic is in each of their hands, [name] downs the contents immediately, hoping to drown out the nerves ebbing from her stomach with vodka. She should have been ecstatic—her old high school crush, her unrequited crush, was here with her, drinking side by side but she can’t help but feel the tension between them—sexual or otherwise.

Just as the two of them down their second round, a piercing voice cuts through the thicket of the masses, calling out her name and capturing her attention. “It’s your song! Come on!” A shrug and a smile crosses [name]’s features as she’s all but dragged away to a different part of the mansion. Much to his surprise, she grabbed onto Keishin to drag him along as well.

The two of them are presented with a myriad of sweaty, rolling bodies—much more gone than Ukai had ever seen at the club itself. It was oddly...sensual, if it could be called that, to see the fluid movements between party goers. Sensual, intimate, strange—all of them could be used interchangeably at this moment.

[name] is dancing with another woman, mouthing all of the words to the current pop song while bobbing and jumping around excitedly before her eyes lock on his. She’s in her element now. All sunshine and smiles like Ukai had seen from on occasion from years ago or most recently at the club, but they’re directed at him for once as she pulls him closer onto the dance floor. The taunting beats and repetitive call of “come on” and the way [name] loosely wraps her arms around his neck as she dances brings Ukai to the realization that this was the end of the line.

The end of the line, because Keishin can’t hold himself back anymore.

Not with the way her hips are grinding against is and she’s laughing warmly and heartily at his slight discomfort and her teeth are glittering off the lights in the dark room like stars in the night sky. Not with the way her head is thrown back and her dress drops low enough to flaunt the expanse of bare skin of her neck and collar bones that are just begging him to sink his teeth in. Not with the way her [eye color]ed orbs are locked with his as she sings along with the music, oddly enough alluding to some form of confession of her feelings.

He can’t fucking take it anymore.

The large hands he has on her hips move just under her arms to hoist her up, [name] instinctively wrapping her legs around his waist to keep her balance. Their eyes are locked, honed in on each other with the rest of the party melting into the background. With her deepest, most wild high school fantasy driving her actions, she grins. “Hi,” is all she says before Ukai cranes his neck back to cover her lips with his.

His kiss is everything she imagined it would be after years of pining. The smell and taste of smoke and wood floods her senses as his tongue laps at the watermelon lip gloss on her bottom lip before seeking refuge within her mouth. His hands, now wrapped around her thighs give intermittent squeezes, either to keep them grounded in reality or just because he needs something to clutch at—she’s unsure of which. In response, her manicured fingernails tangle into his messy blonde locks. Their kiss pours out their desperation, laying it all out on the table for the both of them to see clear as day.

The only thing that prompts them to break apart is the ending of the song.

“You wanna get out of here?” Ukai asks as he tenderly puts [name] back on the ground. As if he weren’t just making out with her moments ago, the motion is delicate and gingerly and almost loving.

“Not yet,” there’s a knowing, smug lilt in her voice as she turns on her heel and throw herself back into the throng of party people. Or rather, attempts. While she’s attempting to flee, Keishin snatches her wrist, pulling her closer until their chests are flush against each other.

“Nuh uh,” the blonde man tuts, “you’ve been asking me to join you at a party all week, now here I am. The hell makes you think you’re leaving my side tonight?” [name]’s grin only grows wider.

“I’ve waited for years for this opportunity, coach, so if you think I’m not gonna have fun with it, you’re dead wrong.” The word ‘years’ constricts the man’s heart—forces his pupils to blow into dilation with her modest, yet blunt confession.

“Years?”

“Years,” she repeats, “ever since that first practice you stumbled into the Karasuno gym as the temporary coach. Why do you think I came to every single exhibition match and tournament? Or came to study and do homework while you guys had practice?” This girl was grinding at every steel line of self-control that was left in Ukai’s body because every word spilling past her lips added an additional ten volts to the sexual tension between them.

“We’re leaving.” He bites out despite the delicate tone. Wrapping his hand around hers once again, Keishin tugs her along time dodge the party goers that threw the two of them curious glances, wondering why they were quick to leave shortly after their arrival. Just to tease him further, [name] almost wants to offer a rebuttal and tell him that they should stay longer and enjoy the show. However, she knows she’s done enough waiting and if he was taking her home, she wasn’t going to argue.

While urgency and desperation was their game, Keishin didn’t cut corners when it came to presenting himself as a gentleman as he helped [name] back into the car. Hormones be damned—he was still going to help a lady into the passengers seat. “You never did tell me why you finally agreed to come out tonight.” She says quietly, as if the two of them hadn’t been making out and dry humping a few minutes prior. “And it’s clearly not because you knew I had a crush on you all throughout third year—“

“Don’t act like you’re the only one with feelings in this.” Ukai grits out, speeding much faster back home than he did on the way to Bevelle’s house. Paying that no mind, [name]’s ears perk up at his own wayward confession. When she asked for clarity, a rumbling groan shakes his chest as he patted down his pockets in search for his nicotine sticks. “I didn’t recognize you the first night at the club because you look different now. Happiness looks good on you.”

“Happiness?” She echos confusedly, turning to face Ukai fully after lighting her own cigarette.

“You used to always look content back then—just barely content and nothing more. And I can’t stop thinking back to those days because you’re this ball of sunshine, kid, and I can’t stop wondering what the hell Suga did to you to dim your shine that badly. I haven’t stopped thinking about you all week.”

[name] is quiet for a moment at his own rendition, his own version, of a confession and she’s stunned. And she can’t tell if she wants to cry or kiss him because this is not that way she ever fantasized this conversation going. It was going better than she dreamed. Better, because the words that Ukai is saying adds an entirely new layer to his amped up personality—he wasn’t just the sexy volleyball coach that she used to pine over. He was a person with deep rooted feelings for justice in the sense of wanting to understand how someone could inflict damage to the innocent and he wanted to rectify said injustices. He wanted to know how someone like Suga could try to dampen her sunlight instead of allowing her to thrive and bloom.

She wants to kiss him, she decides, but since he’s driving, she settles for placing a chaste one on the corner of his mouth. “Serves you right,” she jokes when she pulls away, “it’s been a long four years for me. It’s your turn to suffer.”

“Trust me, this car ride is torture enough.”

[ next ]

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