#THIS WAS SO FUNNY I COULDN'T HELP BUT DOODLE SOMETHING REAL QUICK FOR IT | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

parchmentedpetrichor · 3 years

Text

➳a mastermind ♡

in which fred weasley turns to the resident mastermind, y/n l/n, in hogwarts for advice. the problem? he has a crush on the same girl george does: angelina johnson. the story spans over a couple of months in their second last year at hogwarts.

fred weasley x ravenclaw!fem!reader

word count: ±1.4 k

tw: nothing really??

drop a follow if you wanna see more of this content!!

my masterlist:D

ft. cassius warrington

wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure

a mastermind

after fred and george weasley had given up trying to enter the triwizard tournament, their sights set on a different matter. for george, it had always roamed his head. for fred, it simply popped up at the randomest of a time.

they were in the age of chasing after pretty girls with pretty smiles.

one pretty girl in particular. angelina johnson.

george's crush really wasn't a crush. it was more like a deep love for angie. he knew her really well, they were almost best friends. and angie loved him back.

fred knew both these facts, yet he couldn't possibly grasp why he still had a good old schoolboy crush on her. and he couldn't tell george either. no, george was too considerate and needed a girlfriend. and he had been patiently waiting long enough to deserve something.

sometimes he wished he was george. still funny and prank-loving, but calm and collected at times. but sometimes he liked himself just as he was. spontaneous, dramatic and terribly idiotic.

and hey, george was handsome, so he must be too, right?

one morning after tossing and turning all night, he decided he needed help.

he spotted the girl in the blue uniform and the glasses, she had the brightest yet the wisest eyes. even before he approached her, she swiftly lifted her head from the parchment she had been writing on and saw him. she met eyes with him. she didn't show any emotion she hadn't already been showing, but the simplicity of understanding was written, like all the ravenclaws, in her brain.

"um, hello," fred started.

"good afternoon, what's up?" y/n replied friendlily, parchment now away and now doodling randomly on a scrap piece of it.

"i need some help."

"okay then, go on, i'm listening," her tone was gentle and reassuring.

"i like the same girl as my brother. i don't know what to do, really."

there was silence for a little while. her eyes were focused, her hand absentmindedly drawing across the parchment.

she pushed her glasses up.

"would you consider this 'liking' you say, to be potentially love?"

"no, not at all, it's just a crush, y'know."

"a silly one? i know we all have silly crushes which are full of quite foolish feelings. but they're nice for a while."

"yeah, that's the feeling."

"why do you think you like this girl?"

"um, because-because she's pretty, and she's nice."

"two very valid reasons," y/n chirped, "and why does your brother like this girl?"

"he loves her, because she understands him and she puts up with him and they've been best friends for years. they like the same things and have the same beliefs."

"mhm."

she was still deep in thought.

"does this girl like one of you?"

"that's the problem. she's in love with him and we all know that. i just can't get over her."

"oh, moving on is easier than you think it is. simply put, your brother or the girl?"

your brother or the girl?

everything seemed so much more clearer.

"think about it this way, fred weasley, if your brother is happy, are you? good day, sir!" she saluted jokingly and set off merrily, her steps quick and paced.

she knew it was good to be cheerful around him, because if she was cynical and way too practical, it would break him. he needed to get over angelina, she thought, or it would severely affect his and george's brotherhood.

she didn't tell him that though, that would be mean and sad.

fred was quite astounded. he didn't know how this girl, who was, to him, small in size and in ego, and probably younger by a few months, knew this much.

that's the eagleclaws for you, he thought.

she didn't look intimidating, if anything, she was nice and fun, but she somehow seemed like she could be the end of you.

she knew, she knew, she knew.

she knew who the girl was, who the brother was, she knew more about him than he did himself, and she barely knew him. she about solved his issue.

he found himself being drawn to her. instead of his eyes floating to angie, they were on the chatting, studying, daydreaming girl who wore the ravenclaw blue with much nonchalence.

☆

y/n was freezing. it was the end of the school day and it was snowing. so she made her way to the ravenclaw common room, muttering a haphazard answer to the riddle, told her best friend julia that she was going to take a nap and then bundled up in the heavy sheets.

julia just smirked. she quickly went to grab fred.

"oi, fred!"

he was laughing with george and lee.

they would make cute babies, julia pondered.

"oh, hello," he said.

"come with me."

her tone was ominous and commanding.

"okayyyy."

he followed her to the ravenclaw common room, where she sat down next to a telephone.

"in a few minutes, y/n will call for a blanket because it's cold. just wait."

"and how does this concern me?"

he got a scorching glance in return.

"i have to talk to cassius in a few minutes."

sure enough, the phone rang.

"juliaaa, you're a darling, you know that right??" y/n flattered her.

"yeap." julia's face broke into a smile.

"yeah, so be a darling and could you please possibly send a nice blanket up here?? or two or even three??"

"of course, and a handsome prince with the hair colour of fire too to cuddle," she winked at fred who turned red.

"yEs oF cOurSe, juLiE, aNd prEfEraBlY thAt hE hAs sTaRs iN hIs eyEs aNd gAlAxIeS iN hIs MinD tOo," she joked back.

"okay. right up."

"wha- julia what??!!! thanks."

they both chuckled.

he handed fred a stack of neatly folded blue blankets.

"go. fifth door on the left."

and so he did. it seemed the ravenclaws were too mature to need barriers on their dormitory quarters. the door was open and the room was insanely neat. y/n was lying in a bed, eyes wide open, a small pout on her lips.

she was clearly surprised to see him. when he placed all the blankets nicely on her she smiled.

"thank you, freddie."

"aren't you gonna let me in too?" he asked, smirking.

"oh," her cheeks heated up, "i thought julia was just joking!!!"

"apparently i am indeed a handsome prince with hair of fire, stars in his eyes and galaxies in his mind," fred smirked and y/n huffed.

"it's an expression. and i didn't know she was talking about you!"

"well, scoot over."

y/n just stared at him, before shuffling over.

"i hate you."

fred just scooped her up in his arms.

"you smell good," she blurted out, before immediately turning red.

"mhm, 'pparently my cologne does have that effect on girls."

"pretty sad that only your cologne attracts girls," y/n retorted, "and i was just telling you. it does not have an effect on me."

"'kay, whatever you say."

there was a silence.

"this is boring," y/n frowned.

"wanna make out then?"

y/n glanced at him. was he for real?

she thought not. so she pretended she was asleep, and soon she really was.

fred didn't feel defeated at all.

for he had noticed the faint blush rise on her cheeks.

☆

y/n decided it was probably time she asked fred out or something. if she got rejected, she was great at moving on.

so she asked him to meet her at the corner of the library on a thursday afternoon. he didn't show.

dismayed, she went out of the library, and met george weasley.

"hey george!"

"yello!"

"have you seen fred?"

"check the astronomy tower."

"okay."

there was something mischievous about the way he winked at her as she departed. then again, it was george.

the astronomy tower was well lit and there in all his glory, stood fred. she felt a frown on her face as she approached him. he turned around and smirked at her.

"stop it. i invited you to the library to tell you that-"

her voice was muffled as fred put a hand to her lips.

"you are not going to beat me to this."

"this isn't a game!"

"eh, everything is. i really really really like you, y/n."

he anxiously awaited her answer.

a cheshire cat smile formed on her lips.

"well i was just going to tell you that transfiguration homework is due tomorrow but okay."

"..." he was staring grumpily at her, lips in a pout.

"i like you too."

he smiled, "good."

"isn't this the part you ask me on a date or something?" y/n teased, "or should i? wanna go to hogsmeade with me?"

"you beat me to it."

83 notes · View notes

deluluass · 3 years

Text

What bliss, domesticity.

for: @tink2kagome. i’m sorry it took me so long to work on ur pretty setter squad request T^T i’ll probably do like another one in the future!

& @lady-tokugawa-of-mikawa @belpomme @chaichai-the-weeb for being such lovely mutuals <3 <3

Content warnings: rape/noncon; nsfw; yakuza/organized crime; gun mention; a lot of (non-sexual) food references in this one

Jun’ichi Saikawa was obviously the kind of man who liked to laugh. Not unlike most people in their world. The kind who use their entire body when they do, announcing to the entire world with a bellowing “Ha Ha Ha!” how pleased they are with whatever’s going on in front of them.

Which, in all honesty, was pretty admirable, that the old man could still do it considering how bored to tears Wataru was.

That it’s a humid afternoon didn’t help either. He could feel the sweat on his back even when the doors were already slid open, exhibiting a verdant garden filled with blossoms and shrub peonies. From his place he could see the school of koi swirling in the shallow pond, their scales iridescent under the warm rays of the sun.

“Didn’t know you were the funny sort, 'Kaashi!” Saikawa blurted out, the sake in his hand spilling to his fingers.

This wasn’t Wataru’s first day on the job, but this is the first that he gets to do something this important. And with someone he highly respects, too.

So he gave his collar a light tug, steeling himself to endure as he tucked his legs further beneath him, and resorted to thinking about the many things he would absolutely surrender just to lie down on the warm mat.

His car, maybe.

The brand new noise-cancelling headphones he bought, if pushed.

Wataru saw Akaashi nod.

“I appreciate a joke every now and then,” he said.

The larger man laughed again.

“Here, here!” Saikawa thundered, snatching a tiny, yellow box from the maid who appeared as swiftly as she’d left.

“I heard you like sweets. Here,” he said, grinning as he handed it to Akaashi. “My youngest son just opened a cake shop. I know what you’re thinking, but who am I to say no, eh?”

Akaashi passed the box to Wataru.

“Mind it for me, please,” he whispered.

How unexpected. Akaashi-san has a sweet tooth.

Huh.

That’s pretty neat. Wataru himself wasn’t partial to cakes, but he does love pudding.

“You are a good father, Jun’ichi-san,” Akaashi told him.

This time, Wataru didn’t bother suppressing a yawn as Saikawa fumbled for his phone, hiding it behind his hand as he stared at the birds chirping and hopping about outside.

“Wanna see him? He’s much like you! Good head on his shoulders, that one.”

“I am honored, Jun’ichi-san,” Akaashi echoed back, peering down at the photos Saikawa showed him.

“He sends me a lot of these- uh,” Saikawa snorted, his nose reddened by the alcohol. “What do young people call it, the- pictures-”

“Selfies?” Akaashi politely supplied.

“That’s the one! Look. Precious, ain’t he?”

His earpiece crackled to life.

Konoha’s voice emerged from the static.

“We’re ready when you are,” his senior murmured. “Man, this is taking too long. Let’s get some burgers when we’re done.”

“Akaashi-san,” Wataru croaked, feeling his cheeks heat up as he continued, “K-Komi-san and the others are waiting for you.”

Saikawa perked up. “Ah, of course! Of course!”

He stumbled when he attempted to stand up. Akaashi was quick on his feet to assist him.

“I knew I could count on you, son,” he muttered, patting Akaashi’s back. “Now, you tell Bokuto that what happened between us- it’s all in the past! All in the past! And if those bastards mess with him again, you tell him to run to old Jun’ichi!”

Akaashi clasped Saikawa’s hand.

“Thank you,” Akaashi said. “I’ll be sure to relay your sentiments to Bokuto-san.”

“You do that, my boy.” Saikawa’s belly shook as he laughed. “Your generation’s a smart one, indeed. The in-fighting and wars, bah! All that trouble for nothing; that’s not your style. Your lot’s the future now!”

Then, Akaashi stepped a few meters back and bowed.

Wataru followed behind him.

“We will be taking our leave,” Akaashi said. “It has been an illuminating talk, Jun’ichi-san.”

The sound of the bamboo drip trickling water into another stalk permeated through the silence.

It collapsed and clunked against a stone.

He heard the birds flutter away.

When Wataru raised his head, Saikawa had already been lying face down on the floor.

And, of course, Wataru’s used to it: the crack of a gun muffled by a silencer.

He’s been practicing his entire life, after all. He actually doesn’t flinch anymore and Wataru thinks he should be proud of himself.

It’s just that... how could someone who used to be there, suddenly...disappear? Saikawa was right in front of him a few minutes ago. Laughing and showing off photographs of his son. And now he’s...not.

But, Saikawa didn’t disappear. Not really.

The blood seeping through the tatami is proof of it, but Wataru chooses not to look. In theory, he knows what a bullet through the skull looks like. He’d just rather not see today if what he’s taught reflects true in the real world.

Maybe some other time.

“Wataru.”

Wataru flinched. “Y-yes?”

Akaashi looked back at him. “The cake?”

His body was still trembling and it took a lot of strength to not let it show in his hands when he gave it back to Akaashi, the box pleasantly yellow with doodles of doe-eyed eggs dancing along the handle. Unblemished, unlike Akaashi, who was sporting a splatter of blood along his cheek.

It’s surprisingly still cool to touch, too.

“No, thank you,” he said, rejecting the handkerchief that Wataru offered.

From afar, Wataru could hear the faint melodies of an old love song being played by a car radio. No doubt Konoha’s doing. It followed them, growing louder the closer they walked back into the parking lot. The others bowed and sent gruff salutations along Akaashi’s way as they dragged bodies out of the Saikawa mansion.

(It was nauseating and Wataru wanted to pass out.)

He pressed his nails harshly into the meat of his palm.

“A-Akaashi-san,” Wataru began. “I didn’t know that- that um, you liked... sweets.”

Akaashi halted.

“No, I don’t,” he said, blinking. “But my wife does.”

Wataru stared at him.

Akaashi went ahead.

He stayed that way— staring and wondering, until they stopped by the fast food restaurant that Konoha loved so much. Wataru couldn’t even finish his burger and fries.

By the time that they hit the freeway, Akaashi had already cleaned himself up and Wataru was still grappling with the word “wife.”

Of course he knows the man is married.

But, how, exactly, do you reconcile his reputation with the sight of him, every passing headlight sharpening his features, quietly humming along to Aki Yashiro? Who was longing for Shinjuku at night, the beauty of it, and oh, how wonderful it’d be, she said: a rendezvous with her lover, waiting for her under raining cherry blossoms.

Wataru figured that he was tired and starting to see things.

That small smile that graced Akaashi’s lips couldn't be real, either, especially those hands of his that held the box of cake like it’s worth more than gold.

He wasn't really particular when it comes to music. A song's a song, in Akaashi's opinion. Another form of noise that helps when the silence gets too overbearing.

But you, on the other hand, liked music. Listened to it the same way one eats their favorite food: memorizes the lyrics; goes out of your way to collect unearthed photographs and newspaper clippings that made the singer seem more human.

You loved music— was probably the right way of putting it.

Especially the old variety. He didn't get it at first. The sounds are dated; no one speaks in that language with that cadence anymore; the singer's probably dead.

Well, Akaashi still doesn't get it, if he were to be honest.

Yet here he is.

His hands were wrapped around your waist, coaxing you into a slow— albeit clumsy, waltz.

"Kei-kun!" you squeaked. "The dishes!"

You dragged your slippers beneath you, struggling to wipe the suds off your hands.

"S-seriously, Kei-kun..!"

Sure, he doesn’t fully understand what’s great about it, music.

Yet here he is.

Perhaps it’s because he immediately recognized the first few notes this time, that’s why he’s doing this. He didn’t even wait for the DJ to finish saying, “You’re still listening to Vintage F.M. Here’s a classic for you couples out there. Have a romantic night with Nat King Cole’s L-O-V-”

Perhaps it’s because your cream stew tasted extra special that it made him shrug the fatigue off, giving in to the urge of pulling you close and taking your damp hand in his to sway and bob along the skipping bassline. Your bashful objections went in one ear and out the other.

Sure, he’s not the type to do this, either, dancing.

Yet here he is.

Perhaps it’s because he knew that it’s your favorite song.

Perhaps it’s just what marriage does to you.

"Did you like the cake?" he whispered against your neck, inhaling the scent of cinnamon and the way your skin jumped as he did.

Your breaths were shallow against his chest, but you managed a soft, “Yes, sweetheart. Thank you.”

Akaashi caressed your back, kneading the tensed muscles as he huffed.

“Good,” he murmured, trembling. “Good girl. What a relief."

It was endearing, how offbeat the both of you were. A shame, though, considering that Nat King Cole’s fervently insisting on love; that it’s all that I can give to you; that it’s more than just a game for two.

So Akaashi makes up for his two left feet by joining in. He pressed his lips to your forehead. How strange, your presence in his life. What did he do to deserve you by his side, for this contentment that thaws away the chill?

(He put a ring on your finger, is what he did. He deserves this.)

“Two,” he droned, made giddy by the sparks in his belly, “in love can make it.”

You looked at him, wide-eyed.

“Take my heart and please don’t break it.”

He spun you around.

“Oh my god, Kei-kun,” you gasped. “You can’t sing.”

Akaashi’s aware of it all too well. He can’t carry a note; not him: the guy who’s had monotony ingrained in his very being. But that’s why he has you.

A startled giggle left you as he guided you into a box step, the trumpet rising and falling over the strings. You stepped on him a few times, so he lifted you up, just so, and kicked off your slippers. Then, he set your feet atop his own.

He took you with him as he moved, waddling and careful not to hit his back against the countertop. It came as no revelation that both of you weren’t any better dancers even after this maneuver.

Akaashi continued. Starting with L—

“Is for the way you look at me.”

“Stop, stop-” Your eyes crinkled at the sides. “You’re flat.”

Akaashi persisted, anyway, taking your cheek to pepper kisses all over your face.

“O is for the only one I see.”

Your laugh was airy— light and buoyant all over the kitchen, like a fairy leaving stardust in its wake. Not gratingly booming nor demanding. After all, you weren’t the kind who felt the need for it: an audience to witness how pleased you are; how strong and powerful you are over everyone else.

Besides, your laugh was just for him. A private and intimate thing. And he was so lost in it that he almost forgot what’s been gnawing at him for the entire morning.

Akaashi rested his chin on your shoulder, nuzzling the downy fabric of your dress as he gripped you by the hips.

“Where did you go earlier?”

The orchestra was in a joyous uproar, joining the rapid beating of your heart; the trumpet bright and clear, singing in harmony with the bass and saxophones and trombones, as Nat King Cole repeatedly guaranteed, as if an oath, that love was made for me and you.

Love was made for me and you.

“I had to buy some groceries!” you piped up. “We ran out of ingredients. Sorry, I forgot to bring my phone with me. Oh, I have to run you a bath. I’ll tell you when it’s done, alright?”

You broke away from him with a beaming grin, but Akaashi wanted to ask, despite the evidence of it before him.

“Are you happy?”

It has already ended, the song. The DJ was signing off for the night.

You nodded, playfully jabbing his arm with a fist.

“Of course,” you told him. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Perhaps it’s because you were never really good at pretense, no matter how much you hid behind needless noise.

Music. Laughter. Running water.

Akaashi sighed as he slumped down the nearest stool.

Of course you’re happy. Why wouldn’t you be?

After rubbing his eyes with clammy fingers, Akaashi fiddled them together beneath his temples. He released a heavy breath and fished for his phone in his pocket.

He spoke after the first two rings.

“Wataru-san, I’m sorry for bothering you,” he said. “Can you do something for me?”

His subordinate didn't ask him why, neither did he react when he'd stated his request. Akaashi knew, however, that the question was sitting in Wataru's clipped replies. The boy’s “yes, sir” and “understood, sir” were far too enthusiastic than normal.

Akaashi didn’t mind, though, if he did ask. And despite that familiar pang of dread, Akaashi would answer him like the common— just like the average, everyday husband— with that characteristic, bordering on irksome pride that they have when they talk about their wives.

Why?

“Well, Wataru-san,” Akaashi would answer. “Perhaps this is just what marriage does to you.”

The house was a house like any other.

There was an old pickup truck parked outside the freshly painted gate, carrying crates of fruits and vegetables in its trunk. Along the bricked walls was an overgrowth of vines and ferns. It extended around the windows and crept up the balcony.

A large Shiba ran outside and jumped to your lap as soon as it saw you by the driveway.

Wataru heard Chiaki stir at the back of the car.

“Pay up, asshole,” he grunted, waking a disheveled Ryota who’s still holding a half-bitten melon bread.

His lackey cracked his neck and gave the scenery a cursory glance. “Could be a front.”

Ryota grumbled and went back to sleep.

“Idiot,” Chiaki clicked his tongue. “She traveled all the way to Miyagi just to give intel? And here? Of all places?”

Three days.

They’ve tailed you for three days. Akaashi-san never said anything else, besides that within the week, while he’s gone and sealing deals in another country, there was a high likelihood of you folding and getting out of Tokyo.

To run right here. In Miyagi.

He didn’t say why, really, but Wataru supposes it’s better that he didn’t. Because during the days of absolute, mind-crushing boredom, of watching some suburban wife go out for a morning walk, chat with her neighbors, and shop around the market, rinse and repeat, coming up with the Why had been their only salvation.

The betting pool has two answers: cheater or snitch.

Chiaki was insistent on the former, while Ryota stood by the latter.

And Wataru...Wataru could only watch, waiting with a bated breath as the door finally opened.

“I bet it’s someone younger,” Chiaki said. “Usually is.”

Seems that none of them were winning anything today.

The man who emerged from the house was far older— who, oddly enough, resembled you. An old woman soon followed behind him. Both of them looked at you as if they were witnessing a specter, or someone who's crawled back from the dead. An appropriate comparison, especially since they’re both wearing somber black clothes.

It wasn’t his place to assume. Though he’s been promoted to a slightly higher position, it will never come close to the place that Keiji Akaashi occupies. Wataru knows all of these, but nothing was stopping him from putting the pieces together, no matter what little he has.

They could only stare when all of you broke down into tears, locked in each other’s embrace as you knelt on the pavement.

Don’t let her stay too long.

That had been one of Akaashi-san’s orders.

So the three of them didn’t wait it out. By the time that the sun had set, Wataru had already stepped out of the car, taking Ryota with him. He made sure to remind the boy, just in case he’d forgotten.

“Be gentle, alright?” Wataru reiterated.

There hadn’t been any need for that, it turned out.

He’s sure you’ve never met before, but Wataru saw bitter understanding flash in your eyes when you caught them loitering in front of your house. Fear was there, too, of course.

Wataru was convinced that surely it’s a good thing. It saved everyone a lot of time, that way.

You didn’t even say a word, only giving Wataru a stiff nod when he’d introduced himself, and remained like so on the ride back to Tokyo, with the strap of your handbag trapped by a clenched fist. Wataru didn’t try to initiate small talk; it felt unnecessary.

It took a while for Wataru to realize that you also hadn’t bothered to change out of your pajamas, though he gave you a couple of minutes to say your farewells.

Pajamas, obscured now by a thick, gray coat.

Akaashi-san was right.

You had no plans of coming home. Not tonight. Maybe not for a while.

Wataru decided not to linger on it anymore.

He ignored the blank stare that pierced right through the rear-view mirror. And then, Wataru wondered, hand sweating in his pocket, what the three of them should have for dinner.

Thick chunks of pumpkin melted in your mouth with just the first spoonful of broth.

It'd been a while since the last time Akaashi cooked. So, more than anything, it was the sight of him setting plates and utensils that took you aback, greeting you with a, "Welcome home. You're just in time. Food's ready," his sleeves rolled to his elbows while donning your baby owl-printed apron.

The taste didn't. Surprise you, that is. He's a good cook. Unlike you, who only became marginally better one hundred burn scars later.

It also didn't surprise you that he flew back home at the drop of a hat. Even when he said he'd be gone for a week.

"How is it?" Akaashi asked after chewing. "Took me a while to make it."

It obviously did, you thought. When you arrived, Irma Thomas was already begging through the record player.

"Do you need me, like I need you?" she implored, straight from the heart. "Look at me, I'm crying from holding you."

The last song on your favorite record. It was cheap and had the best from the artists you loved.

Etta James. Ella Fitzgerald. Aretha Franklin. The Mills Brothers. Bessie Smith. All in one vinyl.

"Yeah," you replied, clearing your throat when you realized how hard it is to speak. "It's delicious."

You looked back down to your bowl. The tofu had gone untouched. Your food was still close to spilling to the brim, while Akaashi was almost finished with his, scrolling on his phone laid on the table.

"So no one coaxed you into it," you heard him say, and that had ripped your eyes away from the broth like a bandage on an infected wound.

Akaashi was holding your phone, reading the messages- his number was the only one there, as pealing bells resonated in the dining room.

"I'd think of all the things that I wanted of you," cried Irma Thomas. "To make me forget the pain that you caused."

"I would've known if anyone else talked to you, anyway," he huffed, locking the screen before blowing steam off the morsel.

"You would," you conceded. The tofu was soft when you bit into it, sinking into your teeth.

"I found that in our cabinet. Last time it was in the kitchen drawer, wasn't it?" Akaashi helped himself to a bowl of rice. "Don't leave it in stuffy places. What if you forget where you hid it and you won't know when I call?"

"And I can no longer keep track of where you are for every moment of the day?" you could hear him say. Though he didn't; though all that could heard, besides the scraping of utensils, was Irma Thomas declaring:

A fragile thing, like life. It just don't last so long.

It could be for a minute or an hour. Or then again, from now.

Your lips tightened with a grin. "I won't do it again, sweetheart," you said, spoon hanging limply in your hold.

He didn't need to say it.

That your phone has a tracker. That this house is still the same cage that it'd been before. That the only difference between then and now is that silver band on your finger.

Akaashi’s blinked back at you as he sipped what remained of the soup. You tried to do the same.

The savory taste was cloying and it burned in your throat, so you didn't attempt to finish the bowl. It cut down to your heart, sinking heavily on your stomach, bile rising as the song came to a close.

You gulped it down, though. You had to. And in the final moments, Irma Thompson told you what she really wanted.

"Make me forget," she said, "the pain that you'd caused."

The chorus joined her. "Understanding is a great thing," she concluded. "If it comes from the heart."

Akaashi was on his own phone this time. Most likely checking on the business that he left, judging by those furrowed brows and that long-suffering look in his eyes.

Fizzling noise came at the heels of the fading music. Then, it stopped. And there was nothing left anymore but silence.

It's over now. Akaashi’s making a move to clean up. You were supposed to say, "That was a lovely dinner, honey." Or, you could tell him to sit down and watch a movie with you when he's done.

"I'll help you with the dishes," you wanted to say.

I'll help you with the dishes. It was so easy to say.

Instead, what came out of your mouth was a hushed call for his name.

"Kei-kun," you repeated, brittle and weak and dry.

"I'm so sorry," you might've mouthed.

You could barely hear your own voice as you looked at him. Akaashi paused from tidying the table.

You're parched and a lot has happened today. Gathering the courage to take that first step out of the city had taken what little strength you had. The fear never left you. Seeing your old house almost ended you.

It should be physically impossible for you to still be able to cry. And yet there doesn't seem to be an end to your tears now, the same way your apologies unfurled in an embarrassingly infinite string.

"Don't lock me inside here again," you whispered, clinging to him as he shushed you, wiping your cheeks with his thumbs as he helped you drink a glass of water.

He carried you to your room and sat you down on the bed, right between his thighs. You sobbed into your hands, tears and snot on the sleeves of your pajama top.

"I- I just wanted to see them. That's all. Just one day, Kei-kun. One day. I was gonna come back, I swear."

You're rambling. You're a madwoman pleading and bargaining with a stone-cold judge because playing house is the only thing keeping her alive.

And you messed that up you foolish, foolish girl.

"Please don't hurt my family," you heaved. "They're all I have left."

Akaashi doesn't speak, not for a while, but when he did, you bawled harder.

"I can kill them all," he said, matter of factly.

It is true. Hearing him say it does not make it easier to take, though.

"I can hurt you the same way that you hurt me."

Your neck strained as he tipped your chin towards him with a slender finger.

"I can break you," he muttered, not batting an eye.

That, too, is true. You know it all too well. He said it with such serenity, still and undisturbed by the shaking of your head, because it goes without saying.

Except, you, too, know it.

When he is breaking. When he is falling apart.

He smothered you, taking your entire body to curl against you, making himself small as he pressed his face on your back.

"Yet- and yet I-" Akaashi sniffled. You felt your shirt dampen. "I've given you everything."

When he finally brought his face close to yours, he looked so lost. Almost like a little boy who's on the verge of drowning, clinging desperately onto a lifesaver and too shocked to shout for help.

You hated him all the more for it.

"Each other," he said, snarling, almost, through tears as he grabbed your face with both hands. "That's all we have left, you hear? You and I. Husband and wife."

He seized your jaw and turned it towards the vanity mirror.

The room was dark save for the light in the hallway, peeking into the crack through the doorway.

But you could see yourself. And you could see your hand intertwined in his, your rings gleaming like muted starlights.

"We made a vow," he whispered, kissing your ring finger.

A detached part of you is astonished with how inescapable it is. Whether it be a reward or a punishment; a good day or a bad one.

No matter what happens, you always end up like this, don't you?

Begging to him with your legs spread wide.

You did as you'd always done when he began unbuttoning your top.

You go back to that autumn morning, when you first laid your eyes on him, a cup of coffee in his hand, and you thought that he had the prettiest face you'd ever seen.

You go back to when he was just this really romantic guy who sent you flowers every day. There was a letter, every time.

Nothing too grandiose. Just short messages hoping that you'd have a great day ahead.

He kissed your neck, wet smooches and long, flat-tongued licks dipping down your shoulder.

He watched you through the mirror, his eyes a pair of darkened blues daring you to look away.

Akaashi Keiji was your boyfriend, you told yourself. You dated him for quite some time before you married.

Akaashi Keiji got along well with your father and doted on your mother. On Sundays, you visit them and they send you back to Tokyo with ripe watermelons.

Akaashi Keiji has never hurt you.

The man tracing the hem of your bra, cupping your clothed tits and drawing lazy circles over nipples, however, did.

(And he still will in future. He still is, right now.)

This man is the real one.

And you have angered him, so he will not make this easy for you.

"What did you promise me?" Akaashi whispered as he lightly bit the shell of your ear. "Or have you forgotten?"

Of course, you haven't forgotten. You were chained to this very room when you made them, after all.

"N-no, I remember," you said, catching your breath. "I remember, Kei-kun."

"Then say it," he said. "Look at me."

You shivered as his palms swept over your stomach; as he unfastened your bra, letting it fall down your arms.

"Look at me when you say it."

You felt your nipples harden, gooseprickles spread all over you, as the air hit your bare skin, cooling the sweat that made it glisten.

"Please," he rasped.

The eyes of the woman in the mirror was hooded, threatening to close as she puffed with each squeeze and caress to her tits, swiveling her hips against her husband’s crotch as he grinded into her.

"I will be happy," she said.

Akaashi nuzzled your temple, using his rough fingers to tease your nipples just as he did, brushing them to and fro, then grazing the bumpy skin around until you're squeaking out his name.

And when he began pressing down on the stiff peaks with his thumbs, before rolling and pulling at them, the heels of his palm digging into your tits, you saw the woman claw at her husband's hair, a graceless affair that almost scratched his eye out, making him reach for both her arms to wrap them around his neck.

"I- I will..!" Her lips parted in a breathless scream and it was disgusting how lewd she appeared. "I will not run away!"

The streak of tears on his cheeks touched yours when he kissed you. His lips were soft and warm, his wet tongue gliding in so slowly as he deepened the kiss with a throaty groan.

His other hand crawled down to your soaked panties. You couldn't contain the mewl that left you.

Both of you gasped and struggled to breathe again after you parted from each other.

"You understand, don't you?" he rasped.

Two of his fingers slid down your folds, only to slither back up, then down again, smearing your cunt with its own slick.

But he never touched your swollen clit, even though it's throbbing and aching to be rubbed and the hard bulge sitting between your ass grew harder the more you squirmed in his hold, whimpering like a bitch in heat.

You heard your husband sigh, his hot breath tickling you when he said, "This isn't about you now."

Belly pushed into the edge of the dressing table, rattling and battering against the wall with each forceful thrust, and your leg perched atop it, made numb by Akaashi's grip on your thigh.

That was the first thing that you could recall when you opened your eyes.

But your entire body was screaming in pain, so you knew that everything else that happened last night would come back to you soon enough.

The flesh had a memory of its own.

You sat up with a groan and you didn't have to see the marks to know.

His teeth were still nipping at you, biting you until they drew blood, only to follow with an apologetic lapping of his tongue.

You could feel him beneath you, his hands clawing you down to him, palms kneading your ass cheeks as you bounced up and down on his cock.

You could feel him above you, gripping your wrists not unlike the cuffs that once kept you shackled. He had your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling you close to him, filling you up with loads and loads of cum, squelching every time he sank down your weeping hole.

And when your vision began to blur at the edges, he carried your body, mere seconds into fainting, to the dressing table.

The evidence of that stared back at you in shameful streaks and smudges, traces of your fingers on the mirror when he rammed your cunt from behind.

"Are you happy?" Akaashi whispered.

You don't know.

When he's just your husband who comes home to your arms and brings you sweets because he knows how much you love them; who dances with you in the kitchen and listens intently to you when you talk about that cute dog you saw at the park, were you happy, then?

You don't know, but the woman in the mirror, in that moment, surely was.

She even said, "Yes, yes, Kei-kun, right there, fuck me right there!"

Her pupils were blown wide, eyes rolling almost over to the back of her head. And despite the cries that escaped her, there was a wide, dissipated smile on her lips, spit trailing down her chin.

"Look at you," Akaashi said, grunting when your walls tightened around his shaft. "You're clearly happy with me."

"So why? Why'd you even think of leaving?" He rocked his hips, grinding his thick cock against that spot that had you holding onto the mirror. "Don't ever do that to me again."

You told him no, no, you won't run away again, but it didn't seem to placate his unease, nor his tears.

"I'm so scared, everyday, that you'll leave me and- and- it feels like hell. I would rather die."

He kissed your nape as he huffed and said, "Because I don't know what I'll do without you."

You never really understood why; what about you had caused him to single you out in the sea of people that had vied for his attention. Especially now as you looked at yourself in the mirror.

There were dark circles under your eyes and Akaashi’s t-shirt was rumpled on your body, engulfing you whole with its size— a far cry from that lovely, dazzling bride that his best friend, Bokuto, had described you as on your wedding day.

But you’re aware, more than anyone, that Akaashi Keiji is the last person to care about appearances.

When he entered the room, carrying a tray in his hands, he gazed at that disheveled girl with eyebags big enough to be dragged around the same way he looked at her when he waited for her at the end of the aisle.

“I made you pancakes,” he muttered, clearing his throat as he sat down beside you.

You were tired so it didn’t dawn on you as quickly as it should that he made them the way you preferred. Four fluffy pieces stacked atop one another, sprinkled with powdered sugar, whipped cream and a smattering of berries on the side.

He fiddled with his fingers when you only stared at it, so you immediately took the fork in your hand and sliced the pancake in half.

“I’ll be taking some time off work,” Akaashi said as you took the food in your mouth. You only nodded, having noticed that he wasn’t wearing the usual bespoke suit as soon as he entered the room.

You felt him near you; felt his hand, warm to touch, cup your face.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.” His eyes were misty and, this close, it seemed that he, too, wasn’t in a good shape. “So please-” Akaashi licked his chapped lips, “Please don’t go.”

“I won’t,” you replied, giving him the smile that you knew he needed. “I promise.”

Then, as you moved to kiss him on the cheek, the chains that tethered you to the bedpost clinked softly beneath the blanket, and you didn’t bother to keep the tears at the bay.

Akaashi wiped them for you when you said that you loved him. And when he asked why, you only shrugged and told him that the pancakes were so sweet that they could make anyone cry.

#tw noncon #tw non con haikyuu #akaashi x y/n #akaashi x female reader #Dark content haikyuu #yandere akaashi keiji

279 notes · View notes

tomfreakinghollandneedsaoscar · 4 years

Text

Ice Cream Princess

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Reader

Summary: There isn't a day that JJ doesn't come to visit you at work. On the day he doesn't, you decide to visit him at work instead.

Word Count: 1,876

Note: A Stranger Things and Outer banks crossover imagine that no one asked for. Please give me feedback on anything but the title, I'm judging it and laughing at myself because of it. I hope you love it!

An ice-cream parlor opens up across the street of The Wreck. The owner quickly judges all of the teenagers that come in looking for a part-time summer job. Luckily for you, your older cousin Robin sweet talks her way - agrees to watch his daughter- to get Hopper to hire you on the spot.

Your favorite co-worker is Steve. Both of you share stories and talk about anything and everything. You're weren't too surprised to find he hang outs with "lil punks".

He has a childish side that comes out when it's you two in the shop. If a touron gives you a weird feeling and tries to flirt with you, Steve takes over like a protective older brother. You started calling him mom when he bossed you around the first time.

Last night there was a party held by the Pogues at the Boneyard. When Robin's girlfriend texts you saying that she woke up with a hangover, you agree with her that it would be best if you cover her shrift.

When you get to the shop on your bike, you park it next to Steve car and cringe when the annoying front door bell rings as you enter. "I'm surprised to see your face this morning."

"Good or bad surprised, mom?" He rolls his eyes as you walk past him and pat his shoulder.

He yells, "the worst!" As you make your way to the small back room and put your backpack in your locker.

You grab the lanyard Pope gave to you and trace the lil doodles Kiara drew on your nametag.

Clocking in, you wave at Hopper through his open office window. He learns further in his chair, arms across his chest.

"You work too much."

"You don't pay me enough."

Humming to the radio that's connected to the speakers that hang from the ceiling, you look over Steve shoulder to see which Playlist he's playing.

You mutter, "I hate that thing" when the bell rings.

JJ is leading everyone, arms flaring around as he jumps on top of the counter. He bends one knee underneath his other leg to sit more comfortably sideways and grins at you.

"You're ass is going to break that and you'll have to pay for it."

"Are you telling me I have a fat ass?" He puts a hand over his heart and fakes cries. "That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me, Princess."

You shove him off, chuckling when he almost doesn't save his fall and trip over his own two feet.

"So dramatic like always and Y/N is still my name." You point down at your nametag. "Y/N. Not Princess."

"What do you guys want today?" Steve asks.

JJ glares at him but smirks when you pick up a scoop. He leans over the counter and says, "I'll like a lick of that."

You tell Pope thank you for slapping JJ in the back of the head, making his gray and red snapback fall off.

He runs his fingers through his hair and you barely catch it when throws it towards you.

"You would look better in it than that." He reaches over to tap on your uniform hat wear.

You blush at the hidden complaint and slap his hand away.

"Stop flirting." John B says as he hands over JJ his ice cream.

Kiara slightly pushes him towards the table, they always sit at.

Steve smirks as he leans against the counter. "Princess?"

In the corner of your eye, you see JJ giving himself whiplash. You know Steve is on a mission to find a nickname for you, especially something that you hate as much as he hates 'mom'.

But JJ doesn't. "It's a long story."

"I'll love to hear it someti-"

JJ claps his hands together as the chair slides across the floor as he stands up. "Once upon a time, little miss Y/N dressed up as a princess one Halloween. There was a picture of proof that her mother gladly showed me. Ever since, I've called her Princess and one day she'll call me her Prince. The end."

Sarah 'awwws' and says, "That's actually really adorable."

"Thank you, I know." JJ says proudly and you both smile at each other.

─────

During your next shift, it's only John B and JJ.

"Well hello there boys."

JJ takes off his sunglasses off slowly and puts his arm on the counter. "Princess."

You try not to pay attention to how good his arms look with his gray tank top.

You're the one who breaks eye contact. You don't miss the little fist pump he does but you miss how his shoulders drop when you look at him after seeing how panic John B looks.

Oh, right.

"We need to get the biggest bowl of Sarah's favorite ice cream. Her monthly came to visit and John B, the sweetheart idiot he is, doesn't remember her flavor."

You make 'o' shape with your mouth. "Got it. It's the end of the world for him. Well lucky for you, I know it."

John B screams out, "I owe you one" as he grabs the cup container from you and runs out to the Van.

JJ puts money in the tip jar. "From future Sarah."

After you watch him put his sunglasses back on and the door bell rings when the door closes, Robin pinches your leg.

"Are you going to start helping me again with this or am I going to have to restock everything myself?"

Blushing, you say, "I'm not Steve."

She stops laughing after a few seconds to say, "I bet you that JJ knows his Princess favorite ice cream flavor."

"Shut up."

─────

Pope, Kiara, and JJ all give you a pointed look when they stop by the shop before seeing a movie. The movie you agreed to go to one minute but then the next you said "wait sorry, I have to work." and hanged up on JJ.

"I'm about to drag you and your cute stubborn ass out of here for once and all, Princess."

Kiara has a hand on her hip, when she says, "You need to take a break."

You close your eyes and throw your head back, annoyed that she's right. "You guys know how much I need this job and the money."

A look of understanding crosses JJ's face but he straightens himself and says in a stern voice, "You are also supposed to have fun with your friends once a while."

"I know that!" He doesn't flinch at you raising your voice.

Thinking he's used to it, your heart and face fall.

"I- I'm sorry. How about we all hangout tomorrow at the Chateau and relax? Or we can do anything you guys want to do. Let John B and Sarah know and-"

JJ strides behind the counter and pulls you in a hug. No one words are needed when you shove your face against his chest and catch your breathing.

Pope puts a hand on his shoulder. "Come on, JJ. We're going to be late."

"You know what? I'm actually in the mood for ice cream not theater popcorn. Go on without me."

Kiara tells you both goodbye and Pope mouths "whipped" and does the wrapped around a finger hand's motion as she pulls him away.

You look up at JJ. "You didn't have to do that."

"Do what?" His cocky grin becomes bigger when you roll your eyes before helping a costumer. He leaves the counter to sit at the table, hands on the bottom of his chin as he does silly faces from behind the stranger's shoulder.

─────

Steve looks up when he hears the bell ring and watches as JJ loses his step.

Before he can walk away, Steve says, "She will be back shortly. I sent her to the bank real quick for more change."

JJ lets the door close behind him. He takes a big breath in as he turns around. "You trust her that much, huh?"

"Don't you?"

JJ lets out a dark laugh. "It's different. You get payed to see her, I do it because I want to."

That's Steve's breaking point. "Okay, I don't understand why or how you started hating me the first time you met me but I think I can get a wild guess why. A attractive, couple of years older comes into her life. You're jealous over nothing, dude. I see her as annoying little sister. And yeah, I get payed to do this shitty job but when she's working too, she makes it fun."

"Are you done?" JJ is looking at anything but him.

"One more thing, don't waste anymore time."

Steve looks at the clock on the wall and figures you'll be back any minute.

"I have to get to work." JJ looks over his shoulder.

He opens his mouth but changes his mind, and closes it and walks out.

On the other side of the sidewalk, he doesn't stop when you call out his name.

──────

"Funny seeing you're here."

JJ slams his tray down on the table next to yours. "I work here."

He stops wiping it down and gets the sudden urge to squirt you with the cleaning product bottle when he hears you tapping your feet against the chair across on of your table.

When he looks around and notices there aren't a lot of people in the dinner room he sits down and huffs and puffs. "Why are you here?"

"What? You can come visit me at work but I can't?"

When you both notice another bus boy, you let JJ grab the nearest glass pitcher and pull you some water.

"Now you can't walk away and ignore me, like how you did a couple of hours ago."

"I'm sure Steve told you all about it." The biter in his voice makes you lean over the table to grab his hand.

He jumps but doesn't pull away.

"He told me that you came in the shop, you looked like a little lost puppy when you made eye contact with him instead of me. You guys actually had somewhat of a conversation, which, I'm surprised actually happened."

JJ smiles a little as you start spinning one of his rings. "Steve didn't tell me what it was about...at first."

JJ can't sit still.

He stands up and as he talks, he walks in pace. "He, he uh- shit. Fuck, okay. He got in my head. I couldn't talk to you cause I didn't want to say something that would ruin our friendship. I didn't even know how I would say it-to be honest, still don't but you're smart, I think you know where am I going with this-"

He stops talking, mid-sentence when you laugh. "JJ, just say it or I'll crush your ego by saying it first."

"I love you." He says it over and over again in the middle of the kisses after you say it back.

He stops when someone yells his name and tells him to get back to work.

You give him a quick peak and have to put your hands on top of his to move them off of your hips.

"I'll see you later, JJ. We can go watch a movie?"

"Sounds like a date, Princess."

905 notes · View notes