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neiptune · 6 months ago

Text

surreal, but nice

cw: 7k wc, female reader, strangers to lovers, osamu doesn't exactly know how to handle one of the most famous music artists in japan suddenly popping in onigiri miya, inspired by notting hill, my sappy entry for the romcom collab hosted by @bloompompom! thank you @yellow-sword-lily, this fic is also a little yours :)

Miya Osamu is a creature of habit.

He gets up fairly early, showers, never leaves the small apartment without fixing himself a nutritious breakfast, more or less knows and is therefore prepared to what to expect from each particular day.

Downstairs there’s his beloved shop, a dormant creature he gently stirs from sleep each morning. When he doesn’t have to head to the market to select and order the freshest products, Osamu starts the day by contacting all his suppliers and arranging the deliveries. He then checks the inventory, reviews reservations, welcomes the only other chef to discuss any special preparations or new experiments. It’s not unusual for him to check his emails, monitor the website and official social media of the shop, the one thing he actually hates doing because he knows damn well one negative comment will ruin his day, especially since there’s nothing he can do to rectify mistakes made days, sometimes weeks before.

He has a chef, one dishwasher, three servers, two food delivery drivers and that’s about it. Osamu Miya is the owner, manager, host, executive chef, server and cashier of onigiri Miya. He juggles management skills, culinary talent and business acumen just perfectly. He’s prepared and knows exactly what each day has in store for him.

Until you happen.

Osamu has been cooking for almost three hours by the time the shop officially opens at 11AM. It’s not unusual for new faces to come in from time to time, despite his clientele being more or less established, but it is rare to hear the little door chime ring so soon. Except if his dumb brother happens to be in town.

But you’re not his dumb brother. You’re a new and yet strangely familiar face, even hidden behind thick sunglasses and a beret that one could deem more appropriate to a parisian getaway rather than a Kansai one.

“Morning” you offer a little bow, hesitant by the door “you’re open, right?”

“Uh, sure” he smiles, still a little uncertain after a moment of astonishment “I don’t often have clients for breakfast. What can I get ya?”

“I’ve been told this is the best onigiri shop in town. I’ll let you decide”

You seem to consider your options for a moment, then decide to sit at the closest empty table. Osamu would usually provide more than a nod: he’d make conversation, ask questions. Forming bonds with whoever visits his shop and trusts his food is his favorite part of the day, as well as a great activity to engage in while his hands are busy putting the rice into molds.

“Close that mouth” is the only thing he utters under his breath, glancing at the server who set your table “yer catching flies”

“But it’s her!” Hiro squeaks as silently as humanly possible “I’m gonna ask for an autograph”

“You will do no such thing”

“We could hang it in the shop!”

“Go help in the kitchen, Minato called in sick today. I’ll handle this”

Hiro disappears behind closed doors but only after batting his freakishly long lashes to his boss, a heartbreaking disappointed look on his face.

Osamu takes a deep breath and squeezes the molds together, an action executed as gently as possible to keep the fluffy texture that makes his onigiri the best in town.

He knows you, of course he knows you. Not only your face was on any available surface for the entirety of the previous summer (posters, billboards, magazine covers to advertise your first ever concert in the Koshien stadium), he’s also pretty sure in high school Atsumu had perpetually ruined the walls of their shared room with some crappy adhesive squares used to hang your poster.

Osamu is not really a dedicated listener, he knows a couple of your most famous songs and that your success is damn near planetary. You have a house in Tokyo but spend most of the year in America, California if he recalls correctly, and you tour across Europe as well. Yet, it’s been easy to pick what to serve you. The gourmet options such as salmon roe or roast beef are off the table: they don’t make new clients feel special. What new clients need is a taste of authenticity, something that reminds them of home, and don’t you look just like the kind of person who could use some of that?

Osamu decides on pickled plum, tuna mayo and bonito flakes. One serving usually consists of three onigiri but he can’t resist adding an extra treat for you, a tenmusu onigiri. He’s recently perfected the recipe with an egg-free tempura batter that is still thick enough to absorb his special sauce.

He hopes it’s not creepy that he lingers by your table after he brings your meal: celebrity or not, you’re a new client. And Osamu can’t resist observing the wander taking over customers who are unfamiliar with his kitchen, as soon as they take the first bite. He hopes you are no exception.

“If this is an onigiri” you lock eyes with him and smile, glorious, radiant “what the hell have I been eating until now?”

“Probably not the best in town” he grins, proud, a slight blush already coating his cheeks. Damn it, he’s tempted to turn the baseball cap once more, let the brim shield his awkwardness. But that would be totally lame.

“Is it a family business?”

“No. It’s just… mine”

You hum, busy chewing on another bite. Then you swallow and ask another question, invite him to sit eventually, then apologize because he’s probably busy (he is) and has things to do (he does) but this is never going to happen again for Osamu, because he’s not Atsumu. And so he sits and makes conversation like a normal human being that definitely isn’t obsessively dwelling on how beautiful you are, how different your voice sounds when you’re not singing, how much he’d hate for a client to come in and pop that bubble. Which is exactly what happens and he doesn’t like it one bit how you interrupt your chuckle, lower your head, hunch your shoulders in an attempt to hide. He doesn’t like that he has to excuse himself, call Hiro back form the kitchen, make conversation with Suzuki-san, listen while he describes all his latest hospital visits in horrifying detail.

You look at him from time to time, the quiet shop owner suddenly turned chatty sparks your curiosity. He’s skilled with his hands and genuinely interested in what the person who must be an habitué has to say. He’s attractive, too. Especially as he tries to disguise the occasional glances directed your way or the disappointment that flashes in his eyes when you get up and start collecting your things.

“Can I get the check, please?” you approach the counter, pretend not to notice his hesitation. Osamu decides against indulging in the “it’s on the house” cliche, opts for treating you as any other client. With the exception of a small discount you won’t even notice.

“That was the best breakfast I had in a while” you collect the receipt and put in your pocket.

“You should come back, then. To have another” Osamu cringes internally as soon as the words leave his mouth and Suzuki-san’s chuckle makes him want to dig a hole to disappear into. But you smile, despite probably having heard the corny line a million other times, and tell him that you just might.

It would’ve been perfect: a beautiful ending to a glorious encounter. It could’ve been. If only you didn’t turn around so abruptly, a small shriek echoing across the shop as you came face to face with Mai, the sudden sound and panic causing her to jump and spill the fresh iced tea from the jug in her hand all over your painfully clean, crisp, starched, white button down.

You both freeze, your mouth open in a silent scream, an horrified look in Mai’s eyes that would’ve been comical on literally any other occasion. Osamu wishes he would’ve went with the “it’s on the house” cliche.

“Oh my god! Oh god! It’s you! I mean, I’m sorry!” Mai’s voice comes out an octave too high “my god, I’m so sorry!”

“Well, this is great” you frantically grab a handful of napkins from the counter and attempt to dab the mess on your shirt “I have a meeting in half an hour!”

“Please, take my uniform! I will pay for the dry cleaning!”

“Actually” Osamu chimes in as politely as possible, trying his best not to let his anxiety get the best of him “don’t take this the wrong way but, uh, I live upstairs. You can get cleaned up and…”

“You’re kidding, right?” your astonished look is almost glacial. It makes him falter just slightly.

“Or ya can leave with a giant orange stain on yer wet, probably uncomfortably cold shirt?”

“Miya-san!” Mai’s hiss and your shocked expression make him think that sarcasm probably wasn’t a good idea. Osamu sighs.

“Listen, I’m really sorry. These are the keys, you can go on your own, I promise the bathroom’s clean”

You eye him for a few seconds more, then decide against grabbing the keys from his hand.

“I’m gonna need a change of clothes”

Osamu blinks a couple times, dumbfounded. His clothes? You’re asking to wear… his clothes?

“Sure! Yeah, sure. Come on” now his voice sounds uncharacteristically squeaky and he clears his throat as you follow him up the stairs, Suzuki-san’s good grief still ringing in his ears.

Thank god he cleaned the entire apartment just the day before. As much as he likes to brag about being the tidy twin, deep down he knows he’s just as messy as Atsumu.

Osamu tries hard not to look at you, leaning against the doorframe with your arms crossed while he rummages in his drawers in search of something that could fit you. He shortly wonders if it’d be a good idea to offer a complementary bento box to make up for the disaster Mai caused.

“I’m genuinely sorry” he starts rambling because the silence is unbearable and some of Atsumu’s genes really do take over sometimes “the worst incident we ever had at the shop was my brother almost choking on his dinner. I had to perform the heimlich maneuver, it wasn’t pretty” god, where the hell are this clean, not embarrassing shirts?

“Guess this one will go down in history” your voice is less sharp now, which relieves him.

“Oh, no. I will never tell anyone about this, ever. Mai and Suzuki-san will have to sign an nda. A proper, legally binding one”

The laugh you offer sounds weirdly intimate in the small space of his bedroom, it makes the tips of his ears hot. Finally, he’s able to dig out a decent, basic shirt you accept by thanking him softly. When you lock yourself in the bathroom, Osamu rushes to the kitchen to tidy up the mess he’s left behind after that morning’s breakfast. No time to concentrate on how you’re actually, genuinely in his home, cleaning yourself in the same bathroom he showered in, without a shirt on.

No one’s ever going to believe him. Hell, he may not believe it himself by the end of the day.

“Hey” he jumps at your voice, sudden and closer than expected. You look good in his basic shirt, it suits you somehow. Did you shove your own in one of the bags you left by the door?

“Hey” Osamu says back and cringes for the millionth time “are ya hungry?”

You smile when he shuts his eyes for a second, right after the silly question leaves his mouth.

“Not hungry”

“Right. Of course. Thirsty? I have really good tea, from Shizuoka. And orange juice” he pauses for a second, then adds “or water”

Your smile grows, almost melts into a giggle. “Not thirsty either”

“Okay” he clears his throat “how about dessert? I made some mitarashi dango just yesterday”

“I have a meeting to attend”

“Oh. Sure, yeah, that makes sense” he wants to bash his head against the wall “I’ll walk you out. To downstairs” thank fuck ‘Tsumu isn’t there, he’d never let him live this down. Jesus.

You precede him to the door, gather your bags, then softly thank him for the shirt.

“Nice meeting you, Osamu” he nearly explodes when you say his name, no honorifics whatsoever. How do you even know? He hasn’t carried a name tag on his shirt for years.

“It was nice to meet you too” there’s no time to dwell on dumb, pointless questions “surreal, but nice”

He thinks if your smile could conjure waves, he’d gladly give up all the oxygen in his lungs and drown in them. Has someone ever looked as beautiful while smiling at him? He doesn’t think so. He can’t think. Not when you’re leaning closer, not when your arms are suddenly wrapped around his neck, not when you’re pressing your lips to his. Holy shit. You’re pressing your lips to his. And he’s forgotten how to breathe, let alone kiss. Osamu just freezes, like a marble statue, like a teenager who’s never touched a woman before. Right as he’s about to swallow the shock and fucking move, you’re already pulling away, eyes not leaving his despite the slight self-consciousness swarming in those irises.

And then you disappear, just like the dream he believed you were, all that’s left is an empty spot by the door and his heart slamming against a pathetically ill-equipped ribcage.

La Suite is one of the most luxurious hotels in the prefecture and Osamu feels out of place with the 30 onigiri order he’s carrying past a french restaurant and a traditional japanese one, all soft carpeting, dim lights and wide windows. So different from his.

He timidly explains that he’s there to deliver an order to a certain Bennet-san, who for some reason insisted he’d be the one bringing it to her hotel. They look at him funny but let him through and give the coordinates: top floor, superior double room. A woman meets him the second he steps out of the elevator and sternly asks him to follow her, a silly part of him wonders if he’s about to get murdered in one of the top 25 hotels in Japan. But then she knocks on a door right before swinging it open and he doesn’t even get to explain that he’s not supposed to get inside, she can take the bloody bag and he’ll be on his merry way, but once again Osamu fails to determine what the day holds in store for him.

Once more, it’s you. A less preppy version, one that seems so small in such a gigantic room, the sea breeze blowing from the terrace gracefully lifting up the hem of a tennis skirt you immediately fight to keep down as you promptly get up from the couch.

“Hi” he says, so dumbfounded he barely notices the door closing behind him.

“Miya-san” you bow, keep your eyes down, no sign of a smile he could by now deem familiar “I’m sorry for the trouble, I know the hotel is pretty far from the restaurant and you must be busy. This will only take a second”

Osamu’s brows furrow, confusion evident in the way he cocks his head. You don’t catch it, because your eyes are glued to the floor. “I wanted to apologize for my behavior. I don’t know what came over me, I hope you can find it in yourself to forgive me”

His eyes soften as part of the tension leaves his shoulders. Truth is, Osamu is glad you’re apologizing: despite how beautiful and dreamy you may be, life is not quite a movie and he doesn’t exactly appreciate being blindsided by a stranger. He doesn’t really understand what made you think kissing him would be a good idea (was his awkardness interpreted the wrong way? Did his stare linger on your smile a second too long?) but he’s certain you meant no harm. A shitty person certainly wouldn’t take time out of her day to leave an autograph on a napkin, especially right after half a jug of iced tea was spilled on her shirt just minutes before. To Hiro, with love.

After a moment, he clears his throat. “Can ya look at me?”

You meet his gaze hesitantly, mouth a thin line of harsh disapproval directed at yourself. For a second, you remind him of someone and he almost breaks into a smile.

“Thank you for apologizing. We’re good”

“Are you certain?”

“Yeah!” he chuckles “you didn’t have to place such a big order”

You blink twice, then start nervously fiddling with your fingers “ah, actually I didn’t do it to… well, those onigiris are just really good. I wanted to take some extra ones with me”

“You’re leaving?” he doesn’t mean to sound disappointed, especially not while you’re so intentionally keeping your distance.

“Kinda. My record label rented a house in the countryside, I’ll spend most of the summer locked in, trying to finish my new album. I couldn’t do it in America, I missed being home but didn’t want to endure Tokyo’s chaos so I ended up picking Hyogo. Sorry, you didn’t ask to know all that” you chuckle tensely “we leave tomorrow and I didn’t want to go without apologizing first. That’s all. You may go now”

Osamu hums. “I may go? As in I’m excused?” he laughs when your painfully stoic expression melts into sheer horror.

“No! Of course not, I didn’t mean it like that!”

“You take yourself too seriously” he grins “I’m just messin’ with ya”

“That’s not very nice of you”

“Would you compare it to kissing a stranger out of the blue?”

“Oh god” you hide your overheated face in your hands “you said we’re good!”

“And we are” Osamu steps closer to gently place the bags still in his hands on the marble topped pedestal coffee table. It’s just fun to tease you, one of the many irritating habits he shares with his brother.

His brother. Osamu looks up, a risky desire taking shape in his head and threatening to spill over the tip of his tongue.

“I’m really sorry, Miya-san” you repeat and he doesn’t love that you’re now calling him that “uh, this is your shirt. Cleaned and ironed. Thank you for…”

“Whatcha doing tonight?”

You freeze, paper bag still in hand. “Uhm, nothing interesting”

“No packing?”

“My manager does that for me”

He chuckles. “Right. Chances you’d want to spend your last night in the city at an even less interesting birthday party?”

Osamu waits patiently while you weigh your options, recognizes the confusion in your hesitant stare but doesn’t quite understand why there’s a weary vibration to your voce when you accept, the slight disappointment that flashes across your features.

It’s only fair, you think as he parts from the room with a smile and the command to secure those onigiris in a fridge. If showing you off to his friends like some valuable conquest is the way he wants to even the score, you’re in no position to deny him. You’re the one at fault and you’ve been given a chance to make up for it by wearing the facade you wear best.

Then why does it feel so disheartening, this time?

When Shinsuke opens the door, he’s more surprised by your presence than the carefully wrapped gift in your hands. Not that he doubted Osamu: why send a message to the group chat telling everyone that a) he was bringing someone and b) they should’ve absolutely not behaved any differently than usual if not better (in bold), if he wasn’t actually going to show up with a plus one?

Still, a small part of him did wonder if Atsumu’s and Rintaro’s relentless teasing finally got the best of him. Shinsuke doesn’t think that his friend works too much or that he should start “looking around” before “his hair starts greying again only this once naturally”. He remembers Osamu rolling his eyes at his brother when he implied that at this rate he’s gonna have to tie the knot with the restaurant, only to then space out for most of the evening as everyone else found new topics to migrate toward.

In short, Shinsuke wondered if Osamu was going to come up with a last minute excuse to justify the empty spot next to him at the table. But it seems that spot is going to be taken after all, by you nonetheless.

“Nice to meet you, Kita-san” you smile after Osamu introduces you by your name and nothing else, not a wink, not even a subtle hint or a reasonable explanation “happy birthday”

Shinsuke accepts the gift with a polite thank you and he’s almost made sure you could preserve a nice, normal memory of stepping foot into his house for the first time, of course failing to consider the Hinata factor.

“Thank god, Osamu, I’m so hungry- holy shit! Is her your gift? I only brought a cap that says farm hair don’t care!” there’s a strange but seemingly friendly redhead looking at you with eyes so wide you fear they might roll out of their sockets.

“Shoyo, any chance you checked the chat today?” Osamu smiles at him widely but Kita recognizes the tension at the corners.

“What? Of course not, I was busy picking a cute gift” Hinata smiles too but his excitement is genuine “hello, nice to meet you! Please come in, you can help us set the table!”

You chuckle and meet Osamu’s horrified eyes for a second, his posture relaxes as your gentle reassurance puts him at ease. I’ll be in the other room, then. Leave it to Hinata to make a gigantic deal out of a special guest only to treat her as one of his buddies ten seconds later. You seemed comfortable, though, as one always feels whenever Shoyo happens to be around.

“Who is she?” Shinsuke doesn’t mean for his tone to be so conspiratorial but he keeps it low, just in case you might still hear them.

“A friend. Kinda. Ya wouldn’t believe me” Osamu takes his jacket off and hangs it by the door, then picks up the plethora of bags from the floor and makes his way into his friend’s kitchen.

“No, I mean… who is she? Why does Shoyo know her?” Shinsuke follows suit, intent on helping him distribute all the food he’s brought in the different plates he has prepared. Osamu shakes his initial surprise off with a chuckle.

“Only one of the most famous pop music artists in Japan”

Kita stills his movements for a second, then absorbs the new information with a simple nod. “Right. And you met her at the shop”

“How d’ya know?”

“Where else would you be meeting a pop music artist?”

“Don’t make it sound so obvious” Osamu pulls a face and Shinsuke’s eyes twinkle with mischief.

“Well, she’s here. With you. Is it like… a date?”

“No” the peremptory answer comes embarrassingly fast “it’s her last night in the city, she’s here because she didn’t have anything better planned”

“But you invited her”

“Yes”

“Because you like her”

“I don’t-” Osamu gestures vaguely with his hands “it’s not like that. ‘Tsumu used to have a poster of her face in our room, for fuck’s sake”

Kita hums. “So what you actually mean is it can’t be like that”

“I don’t see the difference”

“I do”

“Well-” a loud commotion Osamu has been trained for over two decades to instantly recognize as his brother’s voice, makes the words die in his throat. By the time him and Shinsuke return to the colorfully decorated living room (courtesy of an overly enthusiastic Hinata and one resigned Rintaro), Atsumu is already talking your ear off and seemingly invading your personal space multiple times as he follows you around the table you’re setting with Suna like a golden retriever on a sugar overload.

“Shoyo, you were supposed to keep her safe” Osamu glares at his brother and takes a mental note to scold Aran too, later. For snickering.

Hinata doesn’t get the chance to defend himself because of course Atsumu’s the only one who could outshine that intense excitement with his own.

“Samu! What the hell? If this is yer gift to Shin, what are ya plannin’ to get me exactly?”

“Can everyone stop assuming she’s here as a thing and not as a person?” it comes out harsher than intended and Osamu feels his face grow hot when all those present simply stare at him. When you stare at him.

Suna clears his throat.

“Cut him some slack, he came out of the bathroom and we could barely convince him she’s not a hallucination” you chuckle at that, which makes the ever stoic Rintaro look away with a faint blush blossoming on his pale cheeks.

“Wait” Atsumu looks at you, then at his brother and his brows become progressively furrowed “she’s here with you? As in, you invited her? And she said yes?”

Osamu wonders why he thought a simple admonishment in the group chat would be enough. He has half an idea of shoving an onigiri right into his brother’s loud mouth and not perform any maneuver whatsoever when the rice obstructs his airways.

“Actually, I wanted to come” you chime in so gently it takes a few moments for him to register the words “I’m leaving tomorrow and when Miya-san mentioned it was one of his friends’ birthday, I shamelessly asked if I could tag along. Hope I’m not a bother”

Kita is looking at you the same way Osamu is, puzzled. Hinata almost chokes on his coke and starts coughing profusely, so much that Aran has to lend him a napkin.

“A bother? No, of course not!” his nose might be on fire but by god, he physically cannot let you believe such nonsense for a second too long.

Atsumu’s mouth hangs wide open, brows still knit that make his expression overall hilarious “you make her call you Miya-san? Yikes, bro” he turns to you and makes a scene of slamming a hand on his chest “please, feel free to call me ‘Tsumu. I think we’re intimate enough by now”

“Given that we took five selfies and you made me sign my name on your abs, I also think we’re intimate enough” your grin seems genuine, which only startles Osamu more.

“Ya made her do what?” oh, there are probably not enough words in the japanese vocabulary for the way he’ll have to apologize at the end of the night.

“It’s fine, I didn’t mind” you shrug “but if I could ask everyone a small favor…”

“Sure, anything!” Atsumu’s interruption only makes your smile grow wider “I’d really like to celebrate Kita-san’s birthday like you’d normally do. Please don’t make a big deal out of me, it’s his night after all”

“She’s asking not to be treated like a circus act” Aran whispers to Hinata, who blinks his big brown eyes in quiet understanding.

“Done!” Atsumu’s fist hits his chest right where the heart is as he solemnly declares “you’re one of the boys now, consider yourself a pal”

“Thanks, ‘Tsumu” he tries to keep his composure but nearly implodes as you direct your attention to Shoyo “no, Hinata-san, this doesn’t mean we won’t be taking that picture I promised. Don’t worry” your wink is the prettiest, most wonderful thing he’s ever witnessed and thank fuck he’s done drinking that coke because his airways suddenly feel clogged.

Kita thinks this is already the most entertaining birthday he’s ever celebrated.

And celebrate his birthday you all do. Normally, as per your request. You sit between Rintaro and Osamu at dinner and masterfully divert the attention from yourself whenever the questions start piling up. The uno reverse technique works well: your curiosity feels flattering and everyone is happy to satisfy it. The questions you direct are extremely specific, your laugh echoes alongside everyone else’s and Osamu can’t help but think that, in some odd way, you fit in seamlessly.

Keeping his eyes off of you isn’t but a strenuous fight with himself, it’d be lovely if looking would be the only activity he’d be allowed to engage in. It’s not hard to guess why hordes of fans and admirers are so enamoured: you’re such a natural. Polite, poised, funny, charismatic. Making you laugh feels like a privilege, having your brows raise in interest makes the story one’s recounting instantly fascinating. And yet you’re not doing any of that on purpose, he can tell. The one thing you’re being intentionally careful about is avoiding his gaze and making sure your arm doesn’t accidentally brush against his.

Osamu wants to ask himself why but also refuses to indulge in childish fantasies. What, he thought you liked him? Part of him believed you’d accepted to come to some stranger’s birthday party purely to spend an evening with him. Bullshit. Everyone in the world knows who you are and he simply owns an onigiri shop in Hyogo, one you happened to visit by sheer chance. He’s the guy you are so embarrassed to be seen with, you had to come up with a lie to justify your presence at the very same table that seems to adore you.

But when he jokingly throws a grain of rice at Aran, you hide your chuckle behind your hand. If he speaks, you always turn to look. Osamu doesn’t remember a social gathering where he tried to come up with just as many things to say, desperately conjuring genes that always weigh heavier in Atsumu. Unfortunately, the one person he could always count on, his dear friend and trusty supplier, decides his birthday night is the perfect occasion to stab him in the back.

“I’m sorry, I just need to ask” Kita refills your glass with fresh wine from across the table before retracting to his seat once more “your encounter with Osamu, how did it happen exactly?”

“Yeah, was his onigiri so good you wanted to-”

“Do not finish that sentence, Shoyo” Aran clears his throat as Suna, next to you, has a hard time swallowing his stir fry noodles.

“She heard my shop was the best in town, which it is, came to try it. That’s the story” Osamu wishes he could disappear into his kitchen as he often does when things at the restaurant get uncomfortable.

“I don’t buy it” Shinsuke shrugs “is that really the whole story?”

Kita’s knowing stare really hasn’t changed since high school and it seems you’re affected by it just as much as every other human. His eyes bore right into yours, trained to detect hesitation or even the hint of a lie, giving you no escape. Goddamn it, he’s still the team captain, there’s no running from him.

“Well” you gently swirl the glass in your hand, suddenly very much focused on the crimson liquid swooshing inside “I also kissed him”

This time someone does actually choke and, of course, it’s Atsumu. Right as Rintaro utters an ever quiet holy shit, he explodes in a coughing fit and Aran promptly strikes between his shoulder blades with the heel of his hand, perhaps with more force than needed. Thankfully, Atsumu manages to swallow his bite and, despite the tears threatening to run down his cheeks in all their shimmering glory, still conjures the energy needed to point an intimidating finger at his brother “ya bastard!”

“That’s a joke, right?” Hinata’s eyes have once again grown three sizes.

Kita doesn’t ask, the answer is written all over Osamu’s crimson red face. He was right, no one would’ve believed him.

“No, I really did” you take a sip from your glass and now everyone is looking at you like you’re some kind of alien. Except for Atsumu, who’s still glaring daggers at his brother.

“So this is… a date for you two?” Suna’s just as shocked as everyone else but seems to be the only person currently able to string words together.

“Oh, no” you brush the question off with a gracious wave of the hand “I just did it to thank him”

This time the silence stretches for a moment too long. Atsumu seems on the verge of passing out.

“You kissed him to thank him?” Kita cocks his head.

“Yeah. I mean, he was very kind. Have you never kissed someone to thank them?”

“Uh… no. I don’t think so”

“Really?”

“Do you…” Aran hopes to the gods that the words don’t come out the wrong way “do that often?”

“Aran” as much as Osamu wishes the earth could swallow him whole, he doesn’t want you to think his friends may be implying something they’re really not.

“I didn’t mean it like that!”

“It’s okay” you let our a nervous chuckle and because Osamu is sitting so close, he hears the shaky breath too “I know it was wrong. I tend to forget that’s not what normal people are used to. I apologized and now we’re good, right, Miya-san?” your eyes meet his and he feels his heart drop right into his stomach.

“Why are you used to that?” he asks instead of replying to your question and you just. Freeze.

“Yeah…” Hinata quietly chimes in “that doesn’t sound like something anyone should be used to”

For the first time, you don’t know how to respond. Osamu senses your panic, can read it in your eyes, but is too baffled to think of something smart or chivalrous to say.

“Holy shit, ya know what that means?” Atsumu slams both his hands on the table and both you and everyone else jump “it means she thinks I’m hot! In another life, I’d have a chance! Sorry, Shin, I know it’s yer birthday but I think this is the best night of my life!”

A quiet, astonished moment follows, then the table erupts in genuine laughter. You’re giggling so much you have to hold your stomach, Kita is shaking his head in resignation, Suna rolls his eyes with affection. Osamu settles for a smile as he relaxes against his chair once more. His brother may be loud and annoyingly inopportune, but his quiet support never once faltered throughout the years. One doesn’t need to be an old acquaintance to be taken under Miya Atsumu’s wing: if he senses as much as the hint of unease, his charismatic idiocy is summoned right away at the service of whoever may need it. Yet his loyalty remains unshakeable: Osamu knows that, in his stupid head, you’re already forbidden territory.

His mind is dizzy with confusion he doesn’t know how to properly address. As Kita blows out the candles on the cake he’s made, Osamu feels a wave of affection inundate his heart. He remembers that are nights like this that are worth being present, even if he has to get up at dawn or his sink is full of dirty dishes and he’s exhausted. Life only ever feels right when he’s with his friends or his family. It’s a routine he’s trained hard to get used to: work, work, work, carve out small moments to spend with those who come and go. It’s important for him to be there, when they come.

Osamu almost misses it, too focused on cleaning an extra plate or two in the kitchen, to make sure the birthday boy can get to relax once they leave. And then you call for him, a small crack in that poised facade of yours when his name almost slips out. You rush into the kitchen and urge him to hurry up, they’re already singing happy birthday to Kita-san. Come on, you’re missing it!

You probably wanted to go for his sleeve and found his hand instead, dragged him out of the room so quickly Osamu barely had the time to put the towel down. For some reason, once in the living room you don’t let go right away and neither does he. You only do so to clap with everyone else and even then it’s not entirely possible to establish who lets go first. Regardless, Osamu gives your hand a light squeeze and hopes you notice, despite there being no signs to indicate that.

You’re the first two people to excuse themselves: he refuses to let you go back to your hotel on your own, doesn’t give two shits that you have a driver or could well afford a cab because it’s a beautiful evening and Osamu is itching to have as little as ten minutes alone with you. He watches as you formally offer a hand to Suna and he grins as he shakes it, gently taking it in between his in a respectful attempt at suggesting that there’s no need to be so ceremonious.

You exchange quick hugs with everyone else, take the picture promised to Hinata, chuckle lightly when Atsumu timidly asks for a kiss on the cheek just because “it’s the american way of saying goodbye!” and of course you accomodate the request. Osamu is almost willing to bet you genuinely had fun but he also can’t seem to shake off the odd feeling suggesting you’ve somehow taken it upon yourself to just… appease everyone for the entire evening. Like some kind of duty. He doesn’t want you to think back to this evening like a task that had to be carried out.

“Oh my god, I cannot fucking believe it!” Atsumu’s shriek echoes loud and clear in the empty street as soon as Kita shuts the door and you meet Osamu’s exasperated glare.

“I’m genuinely not sure what I should start apologizing for” he runs a hand through his brown hair and his stress makes you smile as you fall into a comfortable walking pace.

“I should start by thanking you for inviting me. Can’t remember the last time I had such a normal night”

“My friends are many things but I don’t know if they really fall into the normal category”

You laugh at that. “I think they’re really nice. It was fun. I didn’t know there were two of you”

Osamu grimaces, lightly shaking his head “good call, he’s the thing I should start apologizing for”

“I liked Atsumu” of course you did, don’t they all? “you’re lucky to have such good friends and a brother. Is it true what they say about weird connections us twinless mortals wouldn’t get?”

He sighs. As much as Osamu hates stereotypes and all the disadvantages that come with not being able to be his own person, the curse of always being considered nothing but part of a set, he knows the bond with Atsumu is just as rare and irreplaceable as people make it out to be.

“Well, I can pretty much always read his mind. But it’s not a twin thing, s’just an Atsumu thing” he shrugs “most transparent, honest person on earth”

“You’re both very kind” your observation strikes him. It hits the nail on the head: he does his best but it’s unusual for someone to notice ‘Tsumu’s selflessness right away.

“Could say the same about ya” he’s eager to direct the topic to the thing he’s really interested in, the one person who refused every bit of attention directed her way throughout the night “that tea collection must’ve costed a fortune. Shinsuke loves tea, yer manager picked well”

You hum, gaze focused on your feet. “Actually, I picked it”

Another thing Osamu has in common with his brother, the ability to royally fuck up in such a short amount of time.

“Oh, I didn’t-”

“It’s okay, happens all the time”

“What happens?”

“People assuming things” you’re not mad, there’s just a sad vibration to your voice. If he could punch himself in the face, he would.

“I’m sorry”

“Don’t be” Osamu hates the smile you toss at him. He hates it so much he stops in the middle of the sidewalk and watches you turn around, confusion flashing in your disenchanted eyes.

“There’s a pretty cool park ‘round the corner. How about a detour? If you’re not too tired”

You hum in agreement, ask him to lead the way. Careful, Osamu, you’d like to say. This same polite regard is what got me in trouble the first time.

The park, which is more of a garden really, is a slice of eden in the jungle that any city inevitably ends up feeling like. Lowlands, an abundance of irregular but colorful flowerbeds that seem to glow in the dark, the warm air of the evening saturated with the sweet scent of lime trees, a gravel path you both follow all the way to a small, wooden playground. It’s only natural to gravitate toward the swings, relish in the comfort of the stillness the evening offers. It always feels like the earth rotates slower, pace decelerating to give you more time to enjoy the things it’s hard to appreciate during your hectic days.

Osamu approaches the swing like an old friend, takes hold of the chains with both hands. He lightly pushes off the ground with his feet while pulling back, giving you a perfect view of his perfect profile.

“I don’t want to assume” he says quietly “so is it okay if I ask?”

“Yeah” you rest your head on the chain you’re holding, still looking at him who won’t look at you.

“Why did you tell ‘Tsumu you asked me to come tonight?” the actual question dies in his throat. Were you that embarrassed of being there with me?

“You seemed pretty self-conscious. I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable” and I guess that way, you got to seem cooler.

Osamu almost chokes on his own spit from how surprised he is by your answer. What the fuck.

“I wasn’t-” not for the reason you seem to believe “I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable!”

You smile, patiently waiting for the moment where he’ll finally turn to meet your gaze instead of persistently staring at his feet. “I don’t think I ever felt that comfortable in a room filled with men”

“That shouldn’t be an exceptional occurrence”

“Right. But it is”

He spends a few moments trying to come up with the right words, a handful of seconds spent with part of his brain wishing he could have a talk with all the men who made you feel unsafe. How many? Where, why? Are they the reason why Osamu wants to get so desperately close and yet keep a respectful distance, not to scare you off, not to be another name added to the list of creeps you surely hate?

“Why did you kiss me?” those are far from being the right, considerate words he was trying to summon, but they bubble up from his throat before he can stop them.

You hum, pensive “I don’t know. You’re pretty, you’re gentle, I thought t’was what you expected to happen. It’s what men usually expect in return”

“In return for what?” he fights the urge to keep his eyes down, confident that the darkness will conceal the redness of his cheeks. You think he’s pretty and the first thing his dumb brain is able to link the revelation to, is Atsumu. Shit, he was right, this means you do find him attractive as well.

“Anything, really” your chuckle is devoid of actual humor “I know this night was supposed to make up for it but I didn’t expect to have so much fun. Regardless, I hope we’re even now”

Osamu furrows his brows.

“Ya think that’s why I invited ya?”

“Why else?”

He almost laughs, incredulous. You hide that mistrust really well, Osamu has to give it you. It feels unfair that life has given someone who seemingly has everything, so many reasons to think you can only be seen as an empty shell, some trophy with the sole purpose of being flaunted.

“You said you were leaving. I didn’t like the idea of not seeing you again”

“Really?” your lips curl into a small smile “the weird girl who jumped you on your first meeting?”

“You’re weird” he concedes “and selfless. Intelligent. Maybe jokes are not your forte but, hey, ya get to look like that” your laugh compliments his really well and Osamu can’t help but think he’d like to sit in a park, in the middle of the night, and talk and laugh and be with you just once more.

You briefly wonder if the man sitting so close to you is aware of just how devastatingly charming he is. Part of you wishes he’d want to take you out on a proper date, let you meet his friends on different occasions, include a weird stranger in such a well balanced life. Part of you also knows you’d never want to ruin that for him. Not for someone like Osamu. People who are unfortunate enough to stumble across you are almost always harassed away, it’s a life you’re used to and can’t bring yourself to run from. It’s who you are and, most importantly, all you have. It’d be too dangerous for your heart to desire anything different.

But he’s looking at you as if you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, land emerged from the sea millions of years ago for his eyes only to experience such a sight. No one’s ever looked at you with such wonder.

“I don’t want to assume” he holds your gaze locked to his, swing dangling lightly as he leans closer “so is it okay if I ask?”

“Yes” you utter a little too breathlessly.

“Can I kiss ya?”

You hum in affirmation and close your eyes, heart beating a little faster than what you’re used to as you sense his proximity. He smells nice, radiates warmth and his soft hair tickles a little when his lips gently press to your cheek.

Osamu smiles when he catches a glimpse of disappointment flashing over your features, the first of many clues he wants to learn how to interpret correctly. The cracks in a facade he’d make his personal mission to tear down.

“I know you have to go away tomorrow” he gently moves a strand of hair away from your forehead “but I wondered, if you didn’t, whether you might let me see ya a little. Or a lot, maybe”

You lean into his touch, calloused fingertips still barely grazing your skin.

“A lot sounds good”

#osamu x reader #osamu x you #osamu miya x reader #osamu miya x you #miya osamu x reader #haikyuu x reder #romcomcollab

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bonicedemandarina · 8 months ago

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Here's Vash yay!!! Zoom in for details and all that

I think it's been a year and a few days since I first drew the guy! man time sure flies

No matter how many times I draw him I always hate all the stupid details in his stupid outfit god damn it vash how long does it take to put on all that istg

Pic of the figurine under the cut

#trigun #i drew something #vash the stampede #trigun98 #trigunfanart #vash trigun #vash fanart #vash98 #nightow is stronger than me cuz if i had to draw that dumbass outfit in more than 2 panels i'd kms

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anonymousewrites · 21 days ago

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A Not-So-Disastrous Romance (Book 2) Chapter Seven

Saiki Kusuo x Reader

Chapter Seven: Stranded

Summary: Saiki and (Y/N) continue to deal with the issues of being stranded (mostly created by their friends).

“Okay. What am I going to do to save us?” Saiki stared at the ceiling of his room as he considered his options. He wasn’t going to sleep on the ground at the beach, so he’d teleported back to his house, his room, and his comfortable bed. For the night, he could stay there.

“Can you teleport us to another island when they’re asleep so we’re found?” said (Y/N), yawning and rolling over on their side to face him.

Saiki had brought them with him, of course. He was a good boyfriend and wasn’t going to abandon them.

“It would be too weird,” said Saiki. He thought hard. “Telepathy won’t work, either. I’m too far from Japan. And I can’t explain how we got so far. Damn. I can’t do anything.”

“We’ll figure out something,” said (Y/N), smiling and patting his shoulder.

Saiki rolled on his side to face (Y/N). “We’ll have to be patient with those idiots.”

“Probably,” said (Y/N), laughing. “But I’m also an idiot, so be patient with me.”

“You’re smarter than any of them,” said Saiki.

“Thanks, Kusuo,” said (Y/N), smiling softly. “And don’t worry, I’m here to help you. You’re not alone fixing this.”

“I know.” He didn’t deserve them. “Thank you, (Y/N).”

“No problem, Kusuo.” (Y/N) closed their eyes, reached out, and touched his hand. They drifted off in moments.

Saiki looked down at his hand and laced his fingers with theirs. He closed his eyes. He could face anything as long as he had (Y/N).

“My back hurts,” groaned Kuboyasu as the morning sun awoke everyone. (Saiki and (Y/N) had teleported back before people realized they were missing). “Thanks for keeping watch. Did a ship pass by?”

“No, none went by.” He had made sure he wasn’t going to get everyone stuck here for longer before going home for the night.

“I see,” said Kuboyasu. “So, no one has come after one day. That’s probably pretty bad.”

“It’s all over,” said Kaidou, eyes wide and wild. “Help isn’t coming. The world has abandoned us. We’re going to have to live the rest of our lives here on this island.”

(Y/N) watched him spiral and take out a marker. They tilted their head, and a little question-mark popped up by their head. “Huh?”

“But we can’t survive here forever. Soon, we’ll run out of food, and things will become desperate.” Kaidou drew a scary face over his features. “We’ll start killing each other!”

“This isn’t Lord of the Flies,” said Saiki.

“Besides, that was written by a guy who hated kids,” chirped (Y/N). “So don’t worry, we’re not really going to end up doing that.”

“Yes,” said Teruhashi. “Kaidou, don’t be so pessimistic!”

“It’s only been a day,” agreed Kuboyasu.

“One whole day! No one’s ever gonna come!” said Kaidou.

Ever? That might not be so bad, thought Yumehara. She was enjoying the idea of settling down on the island with Kaidou and raising a family.

Now is not the time for that, thought Saiki.

“Anyway, let’s eat and go for a swim.” Nendou had his usual smile and no sign of distress at all.

Because he’s an idiot.

“Everyone is just saying whatever they want,” said Kuboyasu, frowning.

“I’m worried about him, too,” said Teruhashi, looking to the side. Saiko was sitting on a rock and staring out to sea.

“Yes,” agreed Kuboyasu. “Maybe he feels responsible for what happened.”

“Maybe I should console him,” said Teruhashi. The two walked towards Saiko.

“Hey, Saiko, come down and eat,” said Kuboyasu, smiling.

“No, I’m good,” said Saiko.

“You’re good?” (Y/N) tilted their head. “But you didn’t eat yesterday, either.”

“The sinking wasn’t your fault,” said Kuboyasu. “You don’t need to punish yourself. Here, have some bread. No one cares.”

“What are you talking about?” Saiko looked at them incredulously. “I would never eat a dirty poor man’s bread. If I had to eat scraps like that, I would rather die.”

“So he’s going to starve to death? Alright,” said (Y/N), as bright as ever.

“I don’t like it when you don’t like someone.” It gave Saiki the shivers.

“Well, if Teruhashi fed it to me, I guess I would eat it,” continued Saiko.

“What a jerk,” said Kuboyasu, walking away.

Even Teruhashi, always kind and gentle and smiling to her fans, had narrowed her eyes. “Let’s just leave him be for a while.”

“Okay! Let’s eat,” said Yumehara.

“But Mera’s not here, yet,” said (Y/N), looking around.

“You’re right,” said Yumehara, frowning.

“That’s strange,” said Kaidou. “She’s usually the first one running when we mention food.”

“Speaking of which, I heard someone while I was asleep,” said Teruhashi. She furrowed her brow. “I wonder if that was her.”

“I guess Mera’s having a mental breakdown as well,” said Yumehara.

Kaidou shivered grimly. “Already, the first victim.”

“Don’t say such ominous things!” cried Teruhashi fearfully.

The bushes rustled.

“Maybe that’s her,” said (Y/N).

SSSssss.

“A snake!” screamed Yumehara.

“Do something!” said Teruhashi, clutching Yumehara.

“How should I know what to do?!” cried Kaidou, just as terrified.

“Hiyah!” A spear hit the snake.

“Wow!” exclaimed Kaidou.

“A spear just came flying!” said Kuboyasu.

“What great aim,” said (Y/N) appreciatively.

“That’s what you notice?”

“Who on earth is that?!” said Teruhashi, staring at the figure emerging from the forest.

It was Mera dressed in a random assortment of clothes carrying a bow, arrow, and spear. It was like she had been living on the island for one year, not one day.

“Mera? What’s with that getup?” said Kuboyasu.

“She’s adapting well,” said (Y/N).

“She’s lost her mind,” corrected Saiki.

“Oh, wow, Mera,” said Kaidou. “I mean, it’s awesome, but still…”

“Since Mera is poor, I guess she’s used to living in the wild,” said Yumehara.

“You don’t have to go that far,” said Saiki.

Mera lifted up a bag, and (Y/N) looked at it with a smile.

“Is this for us?” said (Y/N).

Mera nodded. She had lost the ability to speak with how deeply she had committed to her part.

(Y/N) took the sack. “I think it’s food!” They smiled. “It’s an apology for eating the food in the pantry.”

At least someone understands her.

“She’s going back into the forest,” said Kuboyasu.

“It seems our food problems are over,” said Kaidou.

He, Teruhashi, and Yumehara had tears in their eyes. “Thank you, Mera!” We won’t let this food you worked hard to gather go to waste. They opened the sack to find suspicious-looking mushrooms. We will eat what we have left, first.

Immediately, they walked to where the pantry had washed up. It was entirely empty.

“What? The food is gone!” said Kuboyasu. “What happened? We still had a whole day’s worth!”

“Did the animals take them?” said Kaidou.

“…Mera was sorry for eating our food,” said Yumehara.

“I thought she meant about the ship,” said (Y/N).

“Maybe she was talking about this,” said Yumehara, wincing.

Everyone groaned.

“That brute! I’ll kill her!” said Kuboyasu.

“Calm down, Aren!” Kaidou grabbed Kuboyasu. “You can’t beat her!”

“He’s right! The forest is her turf!” said Yumehara.

“ ‘Calm down?!’ ” exclaimed Kuboyasu. “We don’t have any food left!”

“We do. We have food, don’t we?” said Kaidou. “The plants and mushrooms Mera picked.” In fact, Nendou was already eating them. “Hey!” Kaidou grabbed them. “Those are for everyone!”

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t think anyone was going to eat them,” said Nendou. “Don’t worry. There’s still a bunch left.”

Kaidou looked into the bag. Kubyasu and Yumehara peered over his shoulders. All of them held in their nausea and groaned. Clearly, only Nendou could digest such food.

“Yare yare,” said Saiki at the dramatic moping.

“Can you help us, Kusuo?” said (Y/N), smiling at him.

“For you.”

“That’s sweet, but you’re lying.” (Y/N) knew Saiki helped people because, fundamentally, he was a good person (and got dragged into things).

“Hey, look!” Teruhashi cried, smiling widely. “Some food washed up on the beach!”

(Y/N) grinned at Saiki. He softened at their gaze. The trouble was worth it.

“Really?!” said everyone excitedly.

“You’re right!” said Kaidou. “Look at these emergency rations!”

“It’s like a dream,” said Kuboyasu. “But how?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” said Kaidou. “It drifted here from Saiko’s ship.”

“It’s a miracle!” said Yumehara.

“No, it’s not,” said Saiki. He had spent all his money on the food.

“I’ll pay you back,” whispered (Y/N).

“Wait, we have canned goods but no can opener,” said Kaidou.

“And cup noodles but no kettle,” said Kuboyasu.

Not to worry.

“A can opener and kettle!” said Kaidou excitedly. “It’s a miracle!”

“Is this really by chance?” said Kuboyasu, but even he was grinning. “It’s got to be because God loves Teruhashi so much.”

“Makes sense,” laughed (Y/N).

“Hooray for Teruhashi!” said Yumehara.

Saiki watched them laugh. No, it’s because I—care about my partner. “This is going to continue forever. We have to find a way off the island.”

“As pleasant as it is here with the nice sun, the beach, and the water, I do miss home,” said (Y/N) cheerfully. They weren’t scared of being stuck there; they knew they’d find a way to help everyone with Saiki.

“Oh, this wood floats on the water, doesn’t it?” said Nendou, holding up a plank of wood. “Which means, if we had a giant piece of wood, we would be able to ride it home, right?”

“What, you mean build a raft?” said Kuboyasu.

“How are we going to do that without any tools?” said Kaidou.

“Would that—”

Saiki shook his head as (Y/N) spoke. “It would be suicide.”

“What if you teleported us when you got to open water?”

Saiki literally jumped up. “That’s it!” If I teleport everyone now, they will realize it because the scenery will change. But they won’t notice it if I do it out there, in the ocean.

“What is it?” said everyone, looking at Saiki.

“Time to build a raft.”

“Oh, look, a bunch of saws drifted ashore,” said (Y/N), gasping in “surprise.”

“That’s enough for everyone! Tape, too,” said Yumehara.

“Too many miracles,” said Kuboyasu.

“Well, whatever, with these, we can build a raft,” said Nendou, shrugging.

“No, we can’t,” said Kaidou. “Though we can build a raft with these, it’s too dangerous. In these desperate times, with these murder weapons, we’ll definitely end up killing each other! So I think we should throw these back in the ocean!”

“Let’s get to work!” said (Y/N), completely moving on from the threats of doom.

The group did, with Nendou and Kuboyasu leading the group in numbers of trees cut down (both had unreal strength). Saiki sat out because his super-strength would be too obvious. (Y/N) helped Yumehara and Teruhashi gather vines for rope.

“Kaidou, we’ve got the vines,” said Yumehara.

“Great. Put them over there,” said Kaidou. He and Saiki had collected empty water-bottles.

“What’s with the water bottles?” said Yumehara.

“If we use them, we need fewer logs,” said Kaidou.

“Wow! What a great idea, Kaidou! You’re a genius!” Yumehara’s eyes shone.

(Y/N) smiled. Kaidou was a funny boy most of the time, but it seemed all of his extra schooling from his mom meant that he was smart when it counted. And he was a good friend.

Kaidou frowned. “But it’s going to take some time. I wish we had more people helping.” Mera was still in the woods, and Saiko was still sulking.

“We should check on him. He’s barely eaten,” said Kuboyasu.

“Do we have to?” said (Y/N).

“We can’t leave him,” sighed Kaidou.

He and Kuboyasu led the way towards the rock Saiko was perched on. They found him crouching over a little crab, trying to catch it.

Kaidou deadpanned. “I knew you were hungry.”

“What are you bums talking about?” cried Saiko defensively. “I’m not hungry at all!”

“But you just tried to eat that crab,” said Kaidou.

“No, I didn’t!” lied Saiko.

“But you did—”

“No!”

“Saiko, we’re building a raft,” said (Y/N), interrupting.

“What?” said Saiko. “I knew you guys were dumb, but this is your dumbest idea yet.”

“Whatever. Just help us!” said Kaidou.

“No. If you guys want to commit mass suicide, then go right ahead,” said Saiko proudly. “Help will come soon enough.”

“Don’t talk like that.” Teruhashi stepped forward, and all the light of the angels shone from her. “Please? Build it with us.” She took Saiko’s hand. “Also, you should eat something. Everyone’s worried about you, so don’t be stubborn. Okay?”

Saiko blushed brilliantly.

“Hook, line, and sinker,” chirped (Y/N), and Saiki nodded.

“Well…Okay, I guess so,” said Saiko nervously. “I shouldn’t be stubborn at a time like this.” His eyes narrowed. “But I refuse. One thing I hate is people telling me what to do. Now get away from me!”

What? My charm didn’t work on him?! Teruhashi was deflating. People haven’t been paying attention to me since we came here.

(Y/N) caught her as Teruhashi fell in shock and supported her as they trudged back to the raft.

“Damn. He wouldn’t listen to us at all,” sighed Kaido.

“My beauty is fading the longer we’re here,” sobbed Teruhashi.

(Y/N) patted her on the shoulders. “You’ll shine brighter than ever when we make it back. Everyone is missing you, remember?” That restored some of Teruhashi’s glow.

“I want to ask Mera next, but I have no idea where she could be,” said Kaido. His eyes widened. “Speaking of which, where’s the food we found this morning?”

“Well, isn’t it in the pantry?” said Teruhashi.

“Uh-oh,” said (Y/N).

Kaidou ran forward and turned the corner. “What are you doing?!”

Teruhashi and (Y/N) looked around the corner in confusion. Crouched in the pantry, Mera had a surprised look on her face.

“Stop right there!” said Kaido.

Like a nervous animal, Mera ran away. She had really gone to earth on the island.

“I’ll never forgive you for this!”

“Kaido! Wait,” said Teruhashi. “It’s alright. The food is safe. And on top of that, she gave us more. Don’t be so angry.”

“Aww.” (Y/N) pouted as they saw Mera trembling behind a tree. “And she feels bad, too.”

“Now I feel bad.” Kaidou picked up some food and offered it to Mera. “Come here, Mera, it’s alright.”

“Come here, Mera.” Teruhashi smiled.

Mera inched closer.

“What are they doing?” asked Kuboyasu, emerging from the forest with Nendou.

“Don’t be afraid, here you go,” said Teruhashi.

“You can have some.” Kaidou held the food out to Mera.

“It’s the amazon!” shouted Kuboyasu.

Instantly, Mera ran into the bushes.

“Why did you have to yell?!” said Kaidou.

“But—”

“We almost had her and you scared her off!” said Kaidou. “She’s very timid. It takes her a while to get used to people.”

“Is Mera a pet?” said (Y/N), chuckling

“Apparently.”

“Okay…I’ll forgive her,” said Kuboyasu, sighing.

“See, Mera? No one’s mad at you,” said Teruhashi. “Let’s eat a bit together.” She put the food down, and Mera hesitantly began to eat it.

Mera let out a sigh. “Thank you!”

“She spoke!” cried everyone.

“She can speak,” said Saiki.

“If you’re sorry, can you help us?” said Kuboyasu.

“And put on your old clothes?” said (Y/N) cheerfully.

“Okay,” agreed Mera.

“Alright! Let’s do it!”

When the sun set on the second day of being stranded, a bit of a raft had been built. Would it stay together? Who knew. But they at least done something to escape and survive.

“Awesome!” said Kaidou. “It’s starting to look like a raft! We should be able to finish it tomorrow, don’t you think?”

“Yes. Anyway, it’s getting dark now. That’s enough for today,” said Nendou.

“Good idea. I can barely lift my arms,” said Kuboyasu.

“Let’s go to bed,” yawned Kuboyasu.

“Good idea,” said Teruhashi, turning and walking back towards the beach.

(Y/N) lingered until they disappeared through the trees and looked Saiki. “You’re going to make sure the raft works, aren’t you?” Saiki nodded. (Y/N) smiled, leaned in, and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Kusuo.”

Saiki smiled slightly as they kissed his cheek. As usual, they made the trouble worth it.

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peachsukii · 9 months ago

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Bakugo surprises and comforts you while you're grieving. 『 ♡ - k.bakugo x fem!reader 』 tw/cw: depression, grief, brief talks of death ⋆ ˚ʚɞ — This was completely self indulgent as I was reminiscing on an old relative who passed when I was younger. -`✧ katsuki bakugo masterlist

It had been awhile since you’ve been back to the cemetery. The sky was gloomy, threats of rain hanging in the air as you stood before the grave.

Isn’t it crazy how fast a decade flies by?

You used to visit monthly when you were at UA High, but now that you’ve been out of school for two years, it’s been hard to visit more than a handful of times a year. Normally Izuku would come with you as company and you’d both go get crepes afterward as a pick me up, but his patrol duty as the number eight hero came first. It wasn’t able to be helped, your schedules just never aligned anymore to do the things you used to as best friends. You miss him, but understand he’s got a job to do - just like yourself.

You never really talked much about your relative’s passing and how much it affected you throughout your life. You were too young to understand death back then - the only memory of the funeral in your mind was holding your mom’s hand during the burial. It was raining that day, and coincidentally enough, has rained every time you visit.

Thunder rumbles aggressively through the atmosphere as you’re sitting on the cool cobblestone pathway. That’s your queue to head home before the potential downpour, but today? You don’t budge. Something keeps you here for a bit longer. You close your eyes, taking time to reflect as you hold your hand to the ground. A few drops of rain begin to splash against your cheeks and sprinkle onto your pinned up hair.

A moment or two later, you hear thudding footsteps heading in your direction. It catches your attention and forces you to break your mediative trance.

“Kat?” You ask quietly, confused as you see Katsuki walking toward you. He’s got an umbrella in one hand and a few roses in the other.

“You’re gonna catch a damn cold if you stay here in the storm,” he says as he approaches you. He notices your perplexed reaction, assuming you’re surprised to see him here.

“Izuku called me earlier and mentioned he couldn’t make it. I didn’t want ya to be alone.”

Katsuki places the roses on the gravestone, turning to you and offering a hand to help you up. You take his hand, rising to your feet as he shifts beside you, holding the umbrella to shield you both from the oncoming storm.

“That’s sweet of you. I can pay you back for the flowers -”

“Fuck no, they’re a gift, idiot.”

“Thanks, Katsuki. I appreciate it more than you know.” You smile at him, masking the hurt in your eyes. You didn’t want him to see you upset.

“Don’t mention it. Whenever you’re ready, no rush.”

You know he hates the rain with a passion and he’s never come here with you before. He knew about it, but never pushed you to talk about it with him. The fact he’s standing here with you, in the rain? That spoke volumes.

Katsuki grabs your hand gently, startling you at the sudden touch. His fingers interlace with yours gracefully, palm warming the rest of your chilled hand. It fills you with a sense of comfort that he seemed to know, every time, how to provide for you. No words, just a silent understanding.

The rain begins to pick up into a steady shower as your shoulders deflate, a sigh escaping you.

“Alright, we can go. I don’t wanna keep you out in the rain.”

Katsuki nods, removing his hand from yours and slinging his arm around your shoulder. He tugs you closer to make sure you’re fully covered by the umbrella.

“Which crepe place do y’wanna go to?” He asks, tilting his head in your direction as you two start walking back to the cemetery entrance.

You laugh. “You’re out in the rain and willing to stomach a sugar-packed snack? You must be sick.”

He rolls his eyes and bumps you playfully with his hip. “Makin’ an exception today. Whatever y’want. And don’t even bother fightin’ me over it, I’ll take the money right outta your hand before you can pay.”

“Okay, okay. But you gotta get the same thing I do!” You wink, wrapping an arm around his waist.

“Hell no! You always get the sickly sweet shit.”

The two of you walk together to the nearest cafe, in the middle of a downpour, to share some crepes and coffee on this dreary day. You don’t end up leaving for quite some time, catching up over things you’d both missed with one another. It’s like no time had passed at all as you talked for hours.

Katsuki always knew how to make you feel better, he had his own ways to keep your spirits up. Whether it be holding your hand for support or buying you 3 crepes until you’re complaining about feeling sick, he’d do anything to see your smile.

#bakugo katsuki #bakugo x reader #mha #bnha #bakugo fluff #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo drabble #bakugo headcanons #bakugo x y/n #katsuki bakugo #my hero academia headcanons #bakugo comfort #my hero academia #☆.rei writes

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gothghostiie · 2 months ago

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I need Transmasc!141 to tie me up and fuck me like they hate me. I need Ghost to shove my face into his messy cunt and grind like he’s trying to kill me

hhh. yes.

cw: cnc, degrading, bondage, impact play (slapping, spanking, all that jazz), facesitting, strap ons, poly!141

mmm. they're so brutal when they want to be. usually they're happy with you just being passed around to eat pussy or ride straps, but who would they be to deny you when you ask them to step it up? after a long discussion of what, where, when, boundaries and safewords you settle on a little cnc, they just grab you whenever and have their fun with it.

it takes a while, they only do it after their next mission together. theyre all still on edge, adrenaline pumping through their veins - so they make a beeline to your quarters. the door flies open, youre suddenly being held down and tied up with ropes and zip ties, struggling until you realise whats happening. finally. you're being groped all over, clothes cut and ripped off, spanked wherever they can get some slaps in. god knows they prepared for this long ago, some quickly putting on their straps they stashed here a long time ago, others too busy with spreading your legs and playing with your throbbing sex.

price is the first one to shove his strap inside you, turning you on your back to make sure you can watch whats happening. he immediately ruts into you harshly, making you see stars from the sheer force of it, but god you wouldn't have it any other way. he talks dirty to you, telling you what a massive fucking slut you are for letting everyone use you like this. youre almost unable to listen over your own moans, especially when you see kyle kneel down behind price, knowing damn well hes helping his captain cum. prices moans get louder than they were anyway, kyles fingers brushing against your stuffed hole every now and then, fucking with your head as he acts like he might just add them too. soap isnt helping either, going down on your poor clit/cock and sucking it, swirling his tongue around the sensitive nerves. you're unable to even cum at this point, its too much, too good, youre overstimulated all over.

but of course its not done with this, the momemt price cums they switch places, with kyle now fucking you. his strap is longer, not stretching you out as much but brushing spots that make you howl. his hands dig into your thighs, a grin on his lips at the noises you're making - even though they're about to be muffled by ghost. he gets close, climbing on top of you and straddling your face briefly before properly sitting down. he's grinding his sopping cunt into your face roughly, rocking his hips while looking down at you, gritting his teeth. you can barely breathe, moans and cries vibrating against his pussy as gaz keeps fucking you, soap continuing his assault on your cock/clit. and you know damn well none of them are getting off of you until you tap out or pass out.

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googleitlol · 4 months ago

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I want it to be known that every time I finish one of these, I let out the most gremlin, 'heeheeeheeheehee' you could possibly imagine.

Why don't we start off with a different POV? Find out what a certain monkey has been up to?

Dove Masterlist:

Storm

That little menace has Sun Wukong at his wit’s end.

The Monkey King flies east atop his cloud, with nothing to do but fume over this new obstacle as he makes his way to his destination. Sure, maybe he could have said something to the others about the disguised demon they found dangling from the tree. Maybe taking care of that brat quicker would have been the better solution, but the sage didn’t want to kill the demon outright and risk a painful headache in case his master didn’t give him a chance to explain. Still, the risk of that might have been worth it, seeing as that little imp took both his master and Dove. It irritated him, how the kid stuck to her like that.

Wukong and his brothers were lucky enough to meet some of the gods of the mountain, they were more than willing to tell them about Red Boy and where he lived. It’d be a lie to say the Monkey King wasn’t surprised to hear the boy is the son of his bond-brother, the Bull Demon King, he doesn’t remember his old friend living anywhere near here. If he gets the chance, he’ll have some words to share about his nuisance of a son.

He would have beaten that child easily if it were not for his obnoxious little trick. Just as Wukong was about to land a blow, the boy began to punch his own face! As if that wasn’t off-putting enough, fire began to shoot out of his face. The fire wouldn’t have bothered the sage all that much, but before it could even touch him, the smoke it emitted completely obscured his vision. He couldn’t find the entrance to the cave amidst the heavy fumes, much less the brat who went in for some cheap shots with his lance. Nephew or not, Wukong cannot wait to get his hands on that little terror.

The Bull Demon King really ought to teach that kid some respect, what was he even talking about? Evil urges?! The gall, ugh! What a– why would he–ugh! What does that boy take him for?! He has no clue what he’s talking about. That kid is the one who wants to eat them, he’s the one with evil urges! Wukong only wanted to protect his friends, it’s not that he wanted Dove to himself. What a ridiculous accusation! How else is he meant to react when any of those idiots find themselves in danger?!

The king can’t stop himself from rolling his eyes. Damn, that comment really got to him. Why did the boy's words irritate him so much? Looking down at the terrain below as he rushes towards the ocean, he can’t help but sigh. He’d rather feel this annoyance, this irritation than what has really been prodding at his chest. Every time Tripitaka has been kidnapped, he’s known he would get him back. Sure, there've been brief lapses of doubt, but they only ever lasted so briefly; the time he was blinded, or when those demon brothers trapped him under all those mountains. But whenever he had those moments of doubt, she was there to snap him out of it.

He hates the worry that has been building in his chest. She was right there, he nearly had her… close enough to feel her slip out of his grasp. Ugh, it’s infuriating!

At least after his fight with Red Boy, Sandy came up with the idea to ask Ao Guang for help. If that kid’s fire is the one thing that stopped them, then certainly the Eastern Dragon King will be able to help them extinguish those flames. It was strange, the boy’s fire. Despite not taking any of the flames head-on, Wukong could have sworn he felt their heat. It didn’t feel like any fire he’s ever been near. The heat… it almost hurt.

Perhaps he’s just overthinking this, there’s a lot of things he’s been feeling lately that make no sense to him. Besides, fire has never hurt before, not since gaining his immortality. No fire can truly burn him, not celestial nor earthly, he had to have imagined it.

It doesn’t matter, anyway. What is important now is getting the aid of Ao Guang so that he can save his master and Dove. Wukong can only hope those two can last on their own until he comes with reinforcements.

…Who is he kidding, he can almost see Dove fighting with every tooth and nail to get the monk and herself out of that cave.

~~~~

“You see, what I’m doing is focusing on your energy and giving you some of my own.” You kneel in front of Red Boy in that same room your burn was wrapped in. You hold the boy’s face in your hands gently, focused on taking care of his black eye.

The demon child is silent, leaning a bit into your healing hands while his attention stays entirely on you. “A little bit is enough to give you a little peace of mind, and if I need to, I can use some more to heal physical injuries.” Once you finish, you stand back to take a look at his face. It looks as though it was never injured in the first place.

You rise to your feet a bit too fast and take an unbalanced step back. You sway a bit, lightheaded but otherwise fine. Usually, you only use your gift like this in more dire circumstances, and you’re used to it taking more out of you than just this.

Still, Red Boy is quick to take your hand and guide you to sit down. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I just need a moment.” You reassure him, sitting back with a bit of a sigh. “Your injuries were pretty mild, but maybe you can restrain from punching yourself in the face anymore, alright?”

The boy quietly nods, frowning with this inquisitive look. “Is this why you said you couldn’t do it until your arm got better?” He asks with a hum.

You look away with a slight chuckle. “Ehh, that may have been an exaggeration. But generally, it’s easier for me to heal if my body isn’t busy trying to fix itself.”

Red Boy nods in understanding, his head tilting a bit in curiosity. “Well, if healing other people tires you out too much, can you take other people’s energy to make yourself better?”

“I, uh…” You hesitate, the question is a little uncomfortable. “…in theory, yes. That would involve putting another person at risk, though, so I wouldn’t even think of using it like that.” The idea of using the gift Guan Yin gave you to help people in such a way made your skin crawl, you wouldn’t wish that on anyone.

The boy’s brows furrow. “Why not? Father taught me that all my abilities have a use.” He argues, taking a seat next to you. “ I think that draining your enemies of their life would make things much easier for you and your monk friend.”

His reasoning makes you shake your head. “The easy way is not always the best route. Besides, I only fight to protect, and I can do that with my own strength and wit.” You smile, though your words are met with a disbelieving look.

“Do you really believe that?” He deadpans, apparently quite doubtful.

“I do.” You cross your arms, refusing to drop your smile.

Red Boy rolls his eyes with a scoff. “I think that’s nonsense. If you can make things easier for yourself, you should do it! The Samadhi Fire makes everything easier for me.”

“Really?” You hum, raising a brow to give him your own look of doubt. A fire you make when you punch yourself in the face doesn’t seem like the most practical power.

The boy’s eyes light up. “I’m not the best with my lance, but it doesn’t matter when I can just burn all my enemies to a crisp!” He looks down to his hands as he speaks, a mischievous grin crossing his face.

You frown for a moment, a little confused by his excitement. “I thought you said it’s difficult to control?”

“Oh, it is. Sometimes it just comes out when I get too mad.” He admits, glancing away as he rambles. “When I summon it, the fire just comes out of my face really fast– like my eyes and my mouth and stuff. I can’t really see where I’m shooting it, but as long as it hits whoever I’m fighting, it doesn’t really matter.”

“What if you’re fighting with an ally at your side? Or what if someone gets caught in the crossfire?” You question, which makes the boy look back at you for a moment. He goes to speak, but stumbles on his response before stopping himself.

You turn a bit to face the kid more. “I know the easy path feels– well, easy– but you should still work on controlling that fire of yours.”

Red Boy frowns, turning to look away from you with a grumble. “I know… it’s part of why Mother and Father sent me out here.” Oh?

He’s mentioned his parents a few times, but their lack of presence has definitely left you with questions. “They sent you here to learn how to control the Samadhi Fire?” You ask, leaning over a bit to see the troubled look on his face.

“I think I set a few too many fires at home. If I get too mad, it’s hard to stop the fire.” He confesses, bringing his knees close to his chest. “Plus, things are awkward right now and I don’t think they want me around.”

That makes you frown, why would he think that? You put a hand on his shoulder. “What makes you say that?”

Red Boy keeps his eyes wandering the room, his voice a bit annoyed. “Father left to live with some other woman, and Mother isn’t very happy about it.” He explains. “She said something about how Father forgot his manners and gave into his evil urges, like all men do.”

Oh. Oh, wow. That poor woman, this poor kid. “Mother said I could stay here for now so I can focus on training and getting better at controlling the Samadhi Fire, but I’m already good at that!” He pouts, looking back at you with an offended frown. “Yeah, I’m not really great, but I can control it enough!”

Wow, that was more than you were expecting. “Maybe so, but there is no such thing as too much practice. I am sure your mother would appreciate you keeping up with your training.” You offer him a small smile, it’s hard not to sympathise with the boy.

“Yeah, I know.” He groans, letting out a huff before resting his arms over his tucked knees.

“Make sure the next time you see her, she can see all the progress you’ve made.” You suggest. “I’m sure that would lift her spirits to see some improvement.”

Red Boy looks back at you, his brows furrowing at your words, thinking them over before cracking a little smile. “Yeah, maybe you’re right. Mother would like that.”

His response warms your heart a little. From how he’s spoken before, it’s clear he cares deeply for both his parents and what they think. It’s unfair to him to be in a situation like this, away from the both of them.

With a sigh, your gaze trails up to the ceiling. “You know, I never knew my own mother. She passed away when I was an infant, but my father was able to care for me. If I remember correctly, he had many duties in our village, but he mostly worked as a physician.”

“So being a healer runs in your family?” Red Boy hums, the question making you chuckle a bit.

You haven’t thought of it like that before. “Yes, I suppose it does.”

The boy hums, seemingly content as you lift a hand to massage your temple. You’re still feeling a bit light-headed, but you shouldn’t take too much longer. Part of you feels bad leaving the kid now, but your first priority is Tripitaka, and with your side of the deal done, there’s nothing stopping you from going back. You’ve already spent enough time here, but maybe you could check in on the boy after the journey is complete.

“I should be on my way now, Red Boy.” You sigh, glancing over to see the boy's look of disappointment.

Red Boy pouts a little. “Aw, already?”

“The others are still waiting for me.” You remind him. “I’ve spent enough time stalling our journey, and I still don’t know where Sun Wukong went off to.”

You go to stand, though you’re still a little shaky on your feet. Red Boy follows you to stand as well. “Are you sure? You still look drained.” He holds your arm to help steady yourself, the gesture sweet.

It’s funny to think he’s the same boy that wanted to eat Tripitaka and egged on Wukong. “It’s alright, I can rest properly once I’ve reunited with my friends.” You smile as he walks you to the cave opening, still holding onto your arm to help you. It’s like you’re an elderly woman he volunteered to assist.

When you get to the cave opening, you’re surprised to find the sun is nearly gone. Only a small trace of light remains in the west. It’s nearly night, did you really spend so long in the cave? It might be harder to find the others under the cover of night, but not impossible.

You step away from Red Boy, but he quickly tightens his hold on your arm. “The sun has set, you can’t go now!”

“They’re probably worried for me, Red Boy, I have to go.” You offer an apologetic look with a shrug, but he refuses to give in.

“But how will you find them in the dark? All the wild animals hunt at this time, it isn’t safe for you to wander through the mountain on your own.” He reasons, not giving you a chance to argue as he continues. “A-And you’re tired, too! Please, Miss, just stay here for another night? You said you would feel better after you rested, right? Mother would say a gentleman should never send a woman off on her own at night.”

You’re a little taken aback by his insistence, though you find his offer and reasoning cute. “I can even get you a fancy pillow, if you prefer to sleep as a dove!”

That gets you to laugh a bit. “It sounds like you’re being overly-sweet to get me to stay the night.”

“…Is it working?”

You shake your head in amusement, letting out a tired huff before looking out to the sky again. You’ve maybe got a half hour before the little light that’s left sinks into the horizon. With how far the flight was before, and with how tired you are now, you doubt you’d find them in time.

It wouldn’t be the end of the world if you rest here for the night, right? You have your weapons with you now, which definitely makes staying in a demon-filled cave feel a bit safer. You doubt Red Boy would have his demons do anything, and you can leave first thing in the morning. An insulated cave to protect from the wind is also a much nicer option compared to sleeping on the mountain in the open.

With a bit of a dramatic sigh, you look back at Red Boy. “Alright, I suppose I could stay the night.”

At your acceptance, the boy practically beams with excitement. “Great! Come, I can show you where the guest rooms are.” He drags you back in with a big smile, and you stumble a few times just to keep his pace as he runs through the halls. “My mother has some clothes she leaves here for when she visits, you can borrow her sleepwear if you want. I don’t think she’ll mind.”

Red Boy takes you to a nicely furnished bedroom before leaving you to rest. The minute your head makes contact with the pillow, your eyes begin to droop. It really has been a long day, as if getting pulled into a wind storm wasn’t exciting enough this morning. At least it’s all resolved now.

You’ll rest, wake up early, and find your friends. Hopefully Sun Wukong will be with them by then. Ha, to think the peach-loving sage was so concerned about you carrying Red Boy. It was a little rocky at first, but the kid isn’t so bad. He ended up being surprisingly sweet. You wish you could do more for him, he would definitely benefit from having someone around that wasn’t one of his soldiers. Someone to re-enforce those better habits of his and show him how not to do things like… well, like eating people.

As you drift off to sleep, you smile to yourself. You’re glad to have met the kid, but you can’t wait to see your friends in the morning…

You wake to the crack of thunder.

You jolt up in bed, your heart racing from the sudden wake-up call. Several thumping footsteps can be heard outside your room, people shouting to one another in a panic as more thunder rumbles from somewhere outside. You’re not sure what time it is, but however long you slept has you feeling more energised now. But maybe it’s more than just your well-needed rest doing that.

The noise outside puts you on high alert, and you quickly jump out of bed to see what’s going on. When you exit your room, you’re nearly trampled by a horde of demons running through the corridors, handing off weapons to one another and fixing their armour.

More thunder echoes through the cave as you manoeuvre around them in an attempt to get outside. It sounds like there’s an intense storm, but yesterday had been nothing but clear skies! You make it to the cave opening, only to nearly be blinded by a flash of lightning.

The sounds of metal clashing and angry shouts are almost entirely drowned out by the storm overhead. Rain pours down over the scorched land around the cave, soldiers in scaled armour meet Red Boy’s army with steel, there’s fire everywhere you look. What is happening?! That scaled armour… is this one of the dragon kings? Why would one of their armies be here? What is going on?!

There’s so much rain, the stream that ran down the mountain by the cave has grown into rushing rapids. Even in the heavy downpour of the storm, the fires only grow, as though the water fuelled them more than the air around them.

All that fire– where is Red Boy?! You run out of the cave, scanning for the boy before hearing a shout from above. Overtop the mountain, the vicious cloud of smoke shoots out an unending spiral of fire.

Acting quick, you begin to rush up the mountain to get closer to the boy, switching between avian and human form to avoid flying arrows and spears, Flying up steeper parts of the mountainside while running where you can. You nearly slip a few times, the rain leaving you drenched and the ground a slippery mess.

As you get closer, you finally see him. It isn’t Red Boy you spot, but Sun Wukong jumping out of the smoky fumes atop his own cloud. He’s breathing heavily, his staff held securely in his grasp as he narrows his eyes at the fire that shoots out from the smoke.

“Wukong!” You call out to him, the monkey demon immediately freezing when he hears your voice. His head whips down to where you stand, and in an instant he is at your side.

He tucks his staff into his ear before wrapping you in an embrace. The demon lets out a heavy sigh as you feel his arms wrap around you, one holding you by the back of your head. “Thank goodness you’re alright, I thought I might’ve taken too long.” He mumbles into your shoulder before lifting his head up to face you. The worry on his face is almost palpable, and you feel something pull at your chest.

You hate to see when he gets so worried. “Where’s Master? I need to get the two of you out of here.” His hands drop down to yours as he looks out over the two armies.

“He’s not here.” You frown, and Wukong looks back at you in confusion. “I got him out yesterday, he’s with Pigsy and Sandy. I was going to leave in the morning– where have you been?!”

“I went to find help dealing with the demon brat after our last fight.” He explains, his brows furrowed. “Sandy thought of using water to put out his flames, but…” The two of you look out to the battlefield. All the fire Red Boy is creating is only spreading, reaching farther and farther out.

Red Boy screams, and you look up to see the spiral of fire growing larger as it shoots wildly through the air. Your eyes widen in realisation, the boy’s words echoing in your head. “He can’t stop it.”

You take dove form, taking off before you’re caught by your foot. “Where are you going?!” Wukong gives you a look of exasperation, his hold preventing you from going any further.

He lets go as you turn back. “I need to calm him down! At this rate, he’ll kill everyone beneath him!” You explain, throwing your arm up to gesture to the boy.

“You think I’m letting you near that thing?!” Wukong steps closer, taking your shoulders in his hands. His tail lashes out, reflecting his anger as you shoot him a glare.

What does he think he’s talking about? Let you? “I’m not asking for your permission! Wherever the others are, there’s nowhere they’ll be able to hide if his fire burns down the mountain!”

The Great Sage returns your glare, but you refuse to give into the look. You won’t argue with him on this, not when all these people could get hurt, not when that kid needs help.

His nose scrunches for a moment before grumbling something under his breath. He looks away and summons his cloud, letting go of your shoulders. “You’re the most stubborn woman I know.”

“I’m well aware.” You nod before returning to avian form, the two of you flying up to the boy as his fire blazes across the battlefield.

The closer you get, the more the two of you have to duck and weave to avoid being hit by the flames. It’s near-impossible to predict where he shoots it next, sometimes the fire flickering out before coming back even greater than before and accompanied by the boy’s cries.

You look for an opening. If it weren’t for the thick cover of smoke, you might be able to figure out how to grab the boy. You dodge out of the path of the spiral again, finding an opportunity as it moves away, and you make your move.

As swift as you can, you dive for the smoke. Your vision quickly becomes obscured, the fumes heavy and thick. You can barely breathe, but you can’t stop here. You listen out for Red Boy, following his voice to navigate through the smoke.

“Dove, look out!” Just as you’re about to reach him, you hear Wukong hurtling towards you. You’re about to grab the kid, there’s no time to look back before you hear Sun Wukong scream. You crash into Red Boy, he’s hot to the touch, like blood boiling beneath the surface of his skin.

You use your gift to soothe him while whipping around to look for your friend. Where did he go?! That scream– he must have been hit. But he’s the Monkey King, how could it have hurt him like that? Where is he?!

As the boy calms, the fire begins to dissipate. The smoke clears and the two of you begin to fall out of the sky and towards the rushing water below. You turn back, holding the now unconscious Red Boy in your arms as you search the sky for Sun Wukong. “Wukong!” What happened? Where is he? Why can’t you see him?! “Wukong!”

The fires across the battlefield extinguish all at once, and through the downpour you finally spot his limp form– just for a moment before he crashes into the water rapids. Wukong vanishes beneath the waves and you prepare to go in after him, turning your back towards the water to shield Red Boy before making contact with it. You slam into the water, plunging down before getting pushed downstream. You fight to surface, holding Red Boy and your own head above water.

With the boy in your hold, it’s a struggle to stay afloat in the rapids, but you do your best to scan the waters for your friend. “Wukong! Wukong, wh–” You can barely speak, the water choking your speech as your head goes under.

Once you reach the surface again, you start to push yourself to the riverbank and back towards the cave. You see Red Boy’s men falling back, all rushing to get back into the cave while you inch closer to land. By the time you reach the edge of the water, you’re hardly able to pull Red Boy onto land.

Your head swivels to and fro, searching for any signs of your friend as you run back to the cave. Red Boy begins to come to as you make it up the steps of his home, coughing up water while you're swept into the horde of demons rushing to get back inside. Arrows fire with lightning tight on their heels, and in the chaos you’re pushed inside.

Red Boy looks around in a worried panic, and seeing that he’s conscious, you set him down on his feet. “Are you alright?” You ask, the boy nodding hesitantly, confused. “Stay here, okay?” You don’t give him the chance to respond, your heartbeat echoing in your ears so loudly you couldn’t even hear him if he did say anything.

That scream– how hurt is he? Did he surface after he fell into the water? You run out to the lip of the cave, pushing past soldiers to try and get a better look. Where is he, dammit, where is he?!

“Wukong! Sun Wukong!” You call out, your throat scratching in pain. There’s nothing, not even a body floating downstream, where could he be?

Bolts of lightning strike at the cave, but you refuse to move. You’ve never seen him go limp before, did he lose consciousness? Surely he would have resurfaced by now if he was conscious, right? What if he can’t? Can he drown?! Sandy and Pigsy usually take care of any demons underwater, dammit! What happened to him?!

He’s been hit by fire before, he should have been fine! No, what if the rapids pushed him further downstream? What if he’s at the bottom of the river? You have to move, now!

You move to run out when another lightning bolt strikes, this time hitting the cave just overhead and breaking off chunks of rock that come crashing down. They fall just at your feet, and you step back to avoid them. You look up in time to see more following, just barely giving you the time to jump back and avoid being crushed. You slip on the wet stone floor, falling back and scooting away as more of the entrance caves in.

By the time it stops, the only source of light in the surrounding area are the torches that are posted on the walls. The thunder begins to quiet, but your heart refuses to slow as the reality of the situation sinks in. “No… no!” You jump to your feet and throw yourself at the rubble blocking the entrance.

You begin to dig at the blockage, your mind racing with worry. Wukong, he’s hurt! You can’t be stuck in here, he’s– how is it even possible for fire to hurt him?! Forty-nine days in the Trigram Furnace did nothing to him– not even the Jade Emperor could kill him with fire, how is this any different? He might still be in the river, he can’t drown, there’s no way– but you thought there was no way he could get burned!

You fall to your knees, your mind racking with different questions and thoughts on what just happened– what you have to do. What can you do? Before you can spiral any further, Red Boy steps up to you. His eyes are watering, wide and scared. “I– I’m sorry.” His voice is shaking, barely even able to get the words out.

“I was trying to stop, I was trying to! I tried closing my eyes b-but it hurt– it just wasn’t stopping!” Tears run down his face, and the trembling boy is enough to ground you for a moment. You pull the child into your arms as he sobs. “I wasn’t trying to hurt anybody, I promise! They just attacked! I didn’t mean to use it, I swear!”

“It’s okay…” You mumble to the boy as you hold him close, rubbing his back in comfort. You can’t believe your own words, but it’s all you can think to say to him in the moment. “It’s gonna be okay.”

Sun Wukong, please be okay.

#what a stress-free way to end this chapter 😁#everyone is so happy right now #little dove #sun wukong x reader #jttw sun wukong #jttw red boy

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chelseachilly · 5 months ago

Text

serenity

pairing: reader x ben chilwell a/n: just a quick little fic bc i needed to write something after ben's photo dump yesterday lol, and to get the writing juices flowing after way too long! i have a much longer fic that's almost done which i can't wait to share with you all soon 🤍 warnings: none, just fluff! word count: 1k

benchilwell via stories

yourusername via stories

You’re not sure if you’ve ever been so content as you are right now.

You’ve always loved summer holidays, but never more than since you started dating Ben. He’s so busy throughout the year that you often get very little time together, so when the season ends, you’re more than ready for some uninterrupted relaxation with your boyfriend.

You know it’s bittersweet this year, as you were both hoping that Ben would make the Euros squad after a somewhat disappointing season and more injuries. You truly believe he deserved to be there, but you’ve decided there’s no point in dwelling on what could’ve been. So despite the letdown of Ben missing out on another major tournament, you’ve both made the most of your holiday so far.

After he went to the F1 in Monaco with the boys, you met up with him and a few of his mates in the Caribbean for the week. You’re all staying at a gorgeous private villa that took your breath away when you first saw it. It’s now your last night here before Ben flies to Marrakech for some time with his family and you have to go back to London for work, which you’re absolutely dreading after the most perfect week with him.

You’re currently curled up with Ben on a lounge chair, just the two of you alone on the gorgeous terrace with an infinity pool overlooking the ocean. The sun is setting, and you’ve never felt more at peace.

“I don’t wanna leave this place,” you sigh, burying your face in his neck.

After a long day of swimming and snorkelling off the boat provided by the villa, you’re both tired and enjoying the tranquility of this moment. The rest of your group is inside watching the day’s Euros highlights, and you know Ben would’ve done the same and ended up lost in his own bad thoughts if you let him. Instead, you grabbed him by the hand after dinner and dragged him out here, receiving no complaints from him as you laid down almost completely on top of him with your legs intertwined and your arm around his waist.

“I don’t want you to leave,” Ben counters, and you know what argument he’s going to make. “Come with me to Morocco. Alex and my mum would love it if you came.”

“Babe, you know I would if I could,” you tell him sincerely. “But I can’t take any more time off right now. I’m sorry.”

Ben already knows this, so he doesn’t argue you further, though you know he wants to. He just tugs you slightly closer to him and drops a kiss to the crown of your head.

“Promise you’ll call me every day, though? I want to live vicariously through you while I’m back to the boring office life,” you murmur, your cheek pressed to his chest.

What you really mean is that you want to check in on him every day, to make sure he’s not going down the rabbit hole of regret and self-loathing like he has in the past. You hate that you can’t be there with him in person for the entire summer break, but you’ll be damned if you don’t do everything in your power to make sure he’s okay, even from afar.

“I will,” Ben agrees, slipping his hand under the t-shirt of his that you’re wearing and gently rubbing the skin of your lower back. “You don’t have to worry about me, baby.”

You know he can see it in your furrowed brow when someone talks about football and your overly clingy behaviour this week that you’re concerned about him.

“I love you too much to not worry, Ben,” you say, a slight shiver running up your spine as he continues to caress your skin.

“I know,” Ben says with another kiss to your head. “And that’s why I’m the luckiest man alive. But I swear I’m okay. It was a bit tough to take at first, but I can’t really complain when I’m in paradise with my best mates and my girl.”

“I’m glad you’ve had a good holiday, you deserve it,” you smile. “What was your favourite bit?”

“Hmm…convincing Tom we saw a shark while we were swimming today was up there,” he chuckles, making you laugh as remember the sheer look of terror on your friend’s face. “I think he might’ve pissed himself.”

“I think he’s still mad at us,” you laugh. “Worth it, though.”

“But mostly just being here with you,” Ben says softly, running a hand through your hair as you pull back and rest your head on his chest to look at him properly. “I love you so much, Y/N.”

You cup his face with one hand, running your thumb across the beard he’s grown out a bit and staring into his eyes. There’s a stunning view of the sun setting over the shimmering blue sea just to your right, but you think you prefer this one.

“I love you, too.”

Ben smiles before leaning in and kissing you, your lips meeting gently. It’s a slow, drawn-out kiss, neither of you wanting this moment to end.

“We should go inside and pack,” you mutter when you pull away, painfully aware of your early flight tomorrow.

“In a few minutes,” Ben says, wrapping his arms around you completely and pulling you back into his chest. “Let’s enjoy this a little while longer.”

You allow yourself to relax into his embrace, humming in contentment as he continues to stroke your hair.

Your real life and responsibilities may be awaiting you back in London, but for tonight, you’re going to soak up every last second of this serenity with your boyfriend.

yourusername

liked by benchilwell, masonmount and others yourusername Perfect week, missing this place (and this boy) already 🤍🌴 view all comments benchilwell Love you ❤️ sophiaaemelia looks like paradise! miss you 🫶🏼

benchilwell

liked by yourusername, madders and others benchilwell Serenity. view all comments yourusername 😍🥰❤️ masonmount Love it mate!

a/n: please let me know if you liked this, all comments/feedback appreciated 😊

#ben chilwell #ben chilwell x reader #ben chilwell imagine #ben chilwell x y/n #my fics #chelsea fc imagine

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xythlia · 11 months ago

Text

— NEON MOON

⤿ 2k event req for moje láska @darksisterswielder <3 I luv ur toji brainrot & im more than happy to keep it going mwah :3

mdni. possessiveness/jealousy + semi public. f!reader. bar scene. scammer reader & toji. emotional manipulation. reader likes playing mind game with him. creampie. readers in a skirt.

He hates that you're the brightest thing in this grimy hole in the wall bar. He hates seeing you drape yourself against this oblivious dolt, hates hearing your glittery laugh drift over to him knowing he's not the cause of it this time.

Its supposed to be the easiest ruse in the book: distract and flatter someone who looks far too inebriated to catch on, wait for the right moment to slip your hand in his pocket for a wallet, and then flit off with some excuse to enjoy more drinks and dinner on the oblivious suckers dime before they realize all their cash was snatched under their nose.

So just what the fuck did you think you were doing?

Tojis grip on the bottle in front of him tightened dangerously, the glass miraculously holding out against the pressure as his jaw tightens. He's trying not to look, staring would tip off the bar flies around him at the counter, but you're making it a superhuman effort every time you touch that guy a little too much, laugh a little too earnestly.

Before he can consider the action he's already up, stool of ripped upholstery shrieking backwards from the sticky bartop and he's too focused on you to notice the raised brows of the few other patrons as he stalks over to you.

You, all over this no name fuck like you really want to know him. It just makes his internal pressure worse seeing you grin at him, narrowing your eyes as he grasps your upper arm a little too firmly, pulls you into his side a bit more forcefully than necessary.

Are you fucking enjoying this?

Tojis got every instinct to beat this sap bloody, but for a brief moment he regains control and opts to drag you out into the cold air of the night instead, ruse be damned.

"I was in the middle of something, you know," you snap, grasping his forearm and bringing you both to a halt inside the little side alley behind the bar.

Its the way your fingers subtly rub against his skin that tells him this is some weird game for you, that you're fucking with him and getting him wound up for the sake of it.

"And now you're not," he says bluntly, pushing you against the frigid brickwork. "What the hell was so funny in there anyway?"

You giggle again, enjoying this way too much as your eyes scan his face, that smirk returning to your features as his breathing turns harsher than usual.

"Oh you know, I kinda wanted to see if he could work me the way he said."

Its enough to make him see red.

"But why the hell do you care? Isn't this all "casual"?" You mock in air quotations.

And sure, that's what you both said every time you'd end up with each other at the end of a night or whenever you'd pull small time scams like this but knowing he wasn't the only one to see you, want you, made something tighten in his gut. Something he really didn't like to scrutinize too closely.

Without a word one calloused hand cradles the back of your head, the other keeping you caged against the bricks as he captured your lips in a searing kiss.

For your part you know everything that's in that kiss, can practically taste the insecurity and the naked plea he'd never be able to force out of his throat. But it's alright, because at the same time you know it means everything and nothing at all. He's not a man of grand promises or declarations.

What you don't know is just how territorial he really feels towards you, how often he finds himself in this position but rarely lets himself act on it. He knows you like your fucked up little games, and often chooses to ignore your efforts to wind him up. But goddamn you could wind him tighter than a spring most nights with just a sideways glance.

If asked he'd probably say it's because you're the best lay he's ever had, something gruff and vulgar just to make sure you don't feel too self important and so nobody really picks up on the internal chaos you sow in him. And while that's objectively true, you had this same effect on him well before he ever threw you on his bed and had you clawing at his back.

His lips move to devour the side of your neck and you can feel how hard he is, fingers sliding through his hair and tugging as his teeth graze your skin. Its almost a shame he's not the kind of guy to put on this show in front of anyone, but it's satisfying for you nevertheless.

Eagerly you stroke your palm against his erection through his pants, adrenaline and arousal shooting through your blood like an injection at the way he groans against your jaw. The air no longer feels artic against your skin, if anything you're surprised it's not steaming off you as you start sinking to your knees on the filthy asphalt.

Before you get too far he's stopping you, pressing his chest to yours a little harder, urging you to wrap one leg around his hip as his fingers clumsily push your damp underwear to the side and rub forcefully against your clit.

The stimulation catches you off guard, like being given ever so slight electric shocks as the calloused pads of his fingers slide over your clit, his mouth hot over yours in a kiss that's all tongue, teeth, and desperation. It strokes your ego in a similar way to him stroking your cunt, making you wetter as he pulls away to fumble with his waistband.

The real prize of the games you play with each other is this: feeling him lining up with you, the girth of his head pushing your walls apart as every subsequent inch of him slides inside you and makes your mouth drop open as the pain of the stretch gives way to intense pleasure.

His pelvic bone smacks against you rhythmically, body feeling like it's on fire with the need to keep your soaked cunt clamped around him, how overwhelming it feels to be inside you every time. His other hand comes to grab the nap of your neck, forcing you to keep your eyes on him as his forehead rests against yours.

"Think he could've fucked you like this?" He grunts out and his gaze makes you feel more pinned to the wall than anything. But he doesn't let you answer, focusing his fingers again on rubbing your aching clit and drinking down every moan and whimper you let out against his lips while he splits you open.

What he wouldn't give to have that limp fucker watching you two right now.

The thought spurs him on, thrusts getting harder and sloppier, taking every ounce of self control to not immediately cum when he feels your walls squeezing him in a stranglehold, the way your pussy sucks him back in with every thrust and obviously aching to milk him for everything he's got to give.

And give he does, only holding out for a few more particularly brutal thrusts that have you mewling and digging your fingers into his shoulders before flooding you with thick spurts of cum. He fucks through his own orgasm, swallow erratic thrusts as he glances down, feeling nearly dizzy at the way your body takes him and the creamy ring of white at the base of his cock.

His grip on your thigh tightens, a smug smile painting his features.

Only fair that the prize for your weird little game is being forced to walk home with his cum dripping from your pussy.

#im sorry i made this toxic it just kinda jumped out ajskahsk #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #toji fushiguro x reader #toji smut #toji x reader #toji fushiguro smut #♡.aeterna

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hard-core-super-star · 1 year ago

Text

you can see it with the lights out [K.Bishop]

pairing: kate bishop x reader

summary: enduring a storm and a subsequent power outage with kate bishop by your side might not be the worst thing in the world.

warnings: none, just tooth-rotting fluff; storm + power outage = kate bishop being an adorable dork; very light mentions of anxiety and small insecurities

wordcount: 1.5k

a/n: i had so many other things to write but i really wanted to do some good old-fashioned fluff. i'm always so tempted to turn my kate fics into angst or hurt/comfort or smut so this was a nice change of pace. although you could argue this isn't just fluff but shhh. i just think golden retriever gf kate is the best kate <3 [and i would 100% cry if someone did something cute and dorky like this for me]

* * * * * * *

Storms and power outages have become synonymous with life in New York for you. Any time the sky fills with those dark clouds, you know to go stock up on candles and blankets since the power will most likely go out in your apartment.

You’re not sure if it’s a safety precaution or if the power lines around your building always end up getting damaged, you just know the routine you’ve come to adopt over the years.

A routine that’s never included Kate Bishop until now.

You’ve been dating the brunette archer for a few months and she’s somehow become the one constant in your life that you didn’t know you needed but have grown to adore.

Whether it’s randomly showing up at your apartment with a bag of takeout or staying on the phone with you until you fall asleep, Kate always does her best to be there for you and provide the support she knows you’re still too shy to ask for.

She thinks it’s cute that you still get tongue-tied around her despite how much of a dork she truly is when she’s with you. You, on the other hand, think she’s a jerk for pulling that damn smirk onto her face and making you flustered every chance she gets.

So maybe you’re a little head over heels in love with Kate and maybe she’s a little too proud of herself for that, despite the fact that neither of you have spoken your true feelings out loud yet, but the two of you make a perfect pair. A pair that’s only rivaled by power outages and your apartment building.

There had been a heavy rain warning for the past few days but it wasn’t until this morning that the sky filled up with borderline black clouds. Clouds that told you your power wouldn’t be on for much longer.

You had accepted your fate, gone on a brisk walk to the nearest grocery store, and shot your girlfriend an apologetic text about having to postpone your picnic date. The brunette had left you on seen but you didn’t think anything of it since Kate’s attention span can sometimes be shorter than Lucky’s, which is saying something.

Most of the day flies by in a blur of reading and watching your comfort show while listening to the heavy rain falling against your windows. It’s not until you hear a knock on your front door that your normal routine is interrupted.

“Kate?” Your eyes widen as you open the door and come face to face with your rain-soaked girlfriend. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, I hated that we had to cancel our date so I decided to bring the date to you!” She proudly holds up a takeout bag not-so-carefully stuffed inside a light brown picnic basket. “I wanted to cook something but you can imagine how well that went.”

There’s something about the way she’s looking at you with that sparkle in her eyes and a huge smile on her face that makes you tear up a little. There’s nothing incredibly extravagant about her actions but the feelings behind every one of her choices makes your heart flutter in your chest in a way you’ve never felt before.

Kate doesn’t need any words to tell you how much she truly adores you. And it’s something you never thought you would find, much less with someone like her.

“Hey, what’s wrong, babe?” She asks, her head slightly tilted to the side.

You can’t form a single sound but your girlfriend doesn’t need your help to know what to do. She steps forward in an instant, gently dropping the picnic basket on the ground before pulling you into her embrace and kicking the door closed behind her.

The fabric of her soft purple hoodie is completely soaked but you don’t mind one bit. You just wrap your arms around her waist and let the feeling of her body against yours drown out everything else.

Including the tiny voice in the back of your mind that reminds you your apartment is a complete mess that’s probably a few minutes away from being submerged in total darkness.

Kate might be a New Yorker through and through but she’s had a different life than you. One that’s been filled with the nicest things money can buy. Such as an apartment that can actually withstand a storm.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, unable to keep your thoughts to yourself while your head rests against her shoulder.

“Why are you apologizing?”

You shrug but Kate doesn’t accept silence as an answer. She doesn’t rush you, though, she just trails her fingers up and down your arm in an attempt to reassure you that she’s with you.

It’s unusual for her to actually be patient for once yet she puts all her focus on waiting for you to tell her about all the worries she knows linger in the depths of your mind. She’s gotten incredibly good at reading your nonverbal cues by now.

“I don’t know,” you finally say. “I just feel like you…deserve more than this.”

She can’t back a quiet chuckle, one that comforts you in ways you can’t describe. “More than a cozy night in with my gorgeous girlfriend?”

“You know what I mean,” you whisper, leaning back a little so you can look at her again.

“Mmm, nope. I really don’t.”

She doesn’t give you a chance to argue back even though she can practically hear the words gathering on your lips. Instead, she leans in to kiss you and successfully distracts your mind from all the small insecurities that linger inside.

The lights go out right when she pulls away from your lips.

The sound of your groan is swallowed up by Kate’s laugh. The excitement you hear is more than enough to change your attitude about the current situation even if you’re a little confused about her reaction.

“What’s got you so giddy?” You question the brunette.

She doesn’t answer you immediately but you can see the telltale signs of her coming up with a, probably ridiculous, idea. Her hands leave your body as she picks up the picnic basket once again, that smirk you’ve come to love adorning her face. “Can I interest you in a romantic candlelit dinner?”

You smile despite yourself. “Only if you promise to wash the dishes afterwards.”

“Way to ruin the mood, babe.”

All you can do is laugh while she pulls you toward the kitchen, both of you stumbling around like idiots due to the darkness that consumes the apartment.

It’s not until a few hours later when the two of you are cuddled up underneath your fluffiest blankets that she gathers the courage to ask you about your earlier reaction.

Your head rests comfortably on her chest, her fingers drawing random patterns on your side, as the question leaves her lips. “Baby? What got you so emotional when you saw me at the door? Did I do something?”

Her concern serves to soothe you and make you nervous at the same time. You debate coming up with a stupid response instead of telling her the truth and laying your feelings on the line. Ultimately, you decide to take the jump, somehow knowing Kate will be right there to catch you.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Katie,” you respond, loving the way she pulls you closer once the nickname leaves your lips. “You just always know what to do. How to make me feel better, how to make me feel…loved.”

You feel the way her breath catches at your words and you can already tell you’ll never grow tired of it. She’s silent for a long while but you don’t mind. Where there once was anxiety and uncertainty, now there’s only safety and love.

She shifts around after a few seconds, placing your head on the pillow instead of her chest before she turns onto her side so you’re face-to-face. The tiniest of slivers of moonlight shines through your bedroom window and offers you enough light to see the expression of pure love that covers the archer’s face.

There are no words but her eyes say it all. Even in the silence and with the lights out, you can see it.

And you’re sure there’s no better feeling than this…until she finally speaks the words out loud.

“I do love you, y/n. A lot. Like almost as much as my bow, or Lucky, or-”

You lean in to kiss her before she can keep rambling. You feel her smile against your lips as her arm goes around your waist again, pulling you impossibly closer to her warm body.

“I’m going to ignore the fact that you just said you love your dog and your bow more than me,” you tease her. “I love you too, Katie.”

A content sigh leaves her as you lean your head against her chest once again, her chin resting on top of your head while she holds you in her protective embrace. “I love you more though.”

You just smile in response, letting her have her way for now, and allow your eyes to slip shut. The storm and the blackout are the last things on your mind while you rest in your girlfriend's arms.

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ponderingmoonlight · 1 year ago

Note

Prompt #15 with Megumi? Rivals to lovers with happy ending please ♥️

There you go, I'm so so sorry this took so long <3 I hope you still enjoy it, I find it quite hard to write enemies to lovers under 5000 words :D

Opposites attract

Pairing: Megumi x fem!reader

Word Count: 3,3k

Synopsis: Megumi hated you the moment you stepped into Jujutsu High for the first time. As time flies, he always sees himself confronted with you on missions. However, one of these missions makes him rethink his feelings towards you

Warnings: Megumi is an ass from time to time, language

„Why am I here, blindworm?“

There you sit, sloughing on your chair at the classroom, feet stretched out in front of you. Damn, you were taking the best nap of your life when your stupid sensei came storming in and woke you up rudely. He surely wants to send you on another mission – hopefully alone. If you have to work with one of these losers again, you break off.

Especially him.

God, you truly hated Megumi Fushiguro. His quiet way, tall figure and calculating personality. He is quite the opposite of your outspoken, confident and risky self. Maybe that’s why you two don’t get along at all. And maybe that’s the reason why you always end up together. Hopefully not today…

“As charming as ever, I like that. I have a mission for you, (y/n)!”, Gojo cries out in joy.

“Again? I just returned from one. Remember?”

“I remember that you wiped the floor with Megumi’s ass, even though that wasn’t exactly the task”, he replies dryly.

“Yeah, that was fun.”

Both you and Megumi are grade 2 sorcerers while being in your first school year, which means that you can basically carry out missions alone but are happily sent together by Gojo for more complicated matters – much to your chagrin and probably his. So whenever you get the chance to give Megumi a hard time you gladly seize the opportunity.

“Don’t be so rough, I know you have a sweet spot for charming boys like him.”

Oh, you know all too well that your sensei just wants to get on your nerves. But as soon as he mentions positive feelings towards a coward like Megumi, you can’t help but explode.

“Shut up, ew! I have no sweet spot for anybody!”

“Yeah, everyone here knows that”, Megumi’s low voice mumbles behind you.

“You.”

Your voice is shaking in venom while the vein on your forehead threatens to pop out any minute.

“What the hell is that loser doing here?”, you groan, face completely twisted in annoyance.

You just knew it. Seems like it’s Satoru’s favorite job to annoy the shit out of you by always putting the two of you together.

“Come on, give me Panda. Or what about Maki? Some girl-power would be nice. But not that”, you hiss through gritted teeth.

“God, you’re so full of yourself. Remember the last time when I saved your puny figure from getting eaten alive by that curse? You’re probably the worst and cruelest person I’ve ever met”, Megumi barks back in annoyance.

“I don’t mind being the villain in your story because you’re a clown in mine, Fushiguro.”

“That was the nicest conversation you two had in a long time, great! Now let’s get to work, I’m sure you’re doing just fine my children!”, Gojo interrupts while hugging you both.

Is there a way out of this madness? Maybe you can pretend you’re sick, too weak to go on a mission. But that’s not your standard and you know that. Giving Megumi the satisfaction of staying at home while he gets beaten up isn’t an option.

“Maybe I’m lucky and you die on me”, you mumble under your breath, storming out of the room faster than Megumi can follow past Yuji who just stares at you in awe.

God, Megumi hates you so much. How can a person be so full of herself? Yes, your abilities are quite outstanding, your curse technique is very good for being a first class student and to be honest you are actually pretty handsome, but the problem is that you are very aware of those facts. And you make no bones rubbing that into everyone’s face – especially his. His stolen glance is set on your back. You do have a really nice figure, feminine curves even though you train several hours a day. Yes, really attractive.

He shakes his head in disbelief. What the hell is he thinking? You are the crappiest person he knows, everything about you is disgusting, he hates you!

“Wow, they really hate each other”, Yuji comments, eyes following the two of you in disbelief.

“No, they don’t. Trust me, this is something completely different. And I love nothing more than teasing that out”, Gojo replies with a cheeky grin.

______________________________________________________________

“Stop breathing so loud, Fushiguro.”

Kiyotaka can’t help but glance at you in the rearview mirror, too stunned to speak by your nonsensical words. Why does Gojo keep sending the two of you on missions together? The air in the car is so thick that it could be sliced by a katana.

“Rot in hell, (y/n).”

He never heard such cruel words come out of Megumi’s mouth except when you are around.

“I’m already there, you’re here after all”, you bark back.

“Stop fighting you two, we’re almost there.”

Your gaze wanders around the rainy area. Somehow he’s right, you should focus on your mission. The fact that two of you were sent here can only mean that it’s going to get ugly. Once again it’s about a school, once again a lot of young people are dying. You need to stop this madness.

“There you are, I’ll create the curtain now. Good look you two.”

“Skilled people don’t need luck, but maybe it’ll help you Megumi.”

His blood boils in anger, just a glimpse into your stupid pretty faces challenges his self-control all over. Who do you think you are?

“What’s wrong with you? Can you just pull yourself together until we ended this mission? I hate you too, but now we have to work”, Megumi smacks into your direction.

“Always the good boy, such a role model! I want to puke in your face, it makes me fucking sick!”, you challenge him, watching as his facial expression darkens with every word.

“You.”

With a swift motion, you’re trapped against the wall by his body. Your sharp and fast breath hangs in the thick air between you two, the way he pins your wrists against the brick wall makes…sparks fly. You can’t help but notice his striking blue eyes when he glares down at you, the warmth that radiates from his body along with his delicious scent. Fuck, what is wrong with you? Why is your face heating up under his gaze, why does it feel so…good to feel his frame pressed against your own? His lips suddenly look so inviting, so warm and soft. But no, you hate him, you hate Megumi since you first met, he is everything you despise reincarnated in one person. God, he annoys you so badly, you need to get out of his grip, you need to-

“Stop it. I’m serious”, he gasps against your face, lips so close to your own that you can feel his breath brush against your now prickly skin.

Fuck, you see stars. His grip around your wrist tightens, his face is getting closer to yours. Will he…? No, that’s impossible, Megumi hates you with all his heart, he told you over and over again. And you hate him too since the moment you first laid your eyes on him. But why…why do you feel the urge to press your lips against his?

“Or what?”

Your voice is suddenly so soft and vulnerable. God, you look so adorable with that pink blush creeping up your cheeks, lips parted and doe eyes wide open. That desire, that urge to brush his lips against yours seems to become unbearable. Just once, just this one damn time. Just to prove to himself how disgusting you are.

Boom.

It happens faster than any of you can react. The wall behind you explodes and buries you under its rubble.

You are instantly greeted by scorching pain consuming your whole body. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Blood streams down your face like a waterfall, your right leg aches in the most disgusting way imaginable.

“Fuck, are you alright (y/n)?”, Megumi screams, eyes widen in horror.

So much blood. Your whole body seems to be covered in crimson. Even though you’re not screaming or even groaning, he can clearly see the shock creeping up your eyes when realization hits you. But he has to focus on that curse. Yes, he needs to take care of that before he can help you.

You desperately try to free yourself from the debris that threatens to crush your body while Megumi fights off the curse that seems to be responsible for all of this. As usual, his facial expression is dead serious while his little shikigami work for him.

“How bad is it?”, he questions, eyes focused on the monster in front of him.

Your leg feels like burning alive, a little glance at your body is enough for you to realize that you are not well. Maybe even so critical that time is running out for you.

“It’s bad”, you hiss back while pressing your trembling hand against the gash in your thigh.

A few broken ribs, a laceration on the head, here and there some open wounds and abrasions – nothing too serious, you’ll get over that. But the giant gash in your thigh is definitely something else. Your leg was almost completely pierced by an iron rod. Surely that wouldn’t be a problem either if the bar was still in you, but it isn’t. And that’s why you’re bleeding out at the moment.

Finally that curse is gone. Just a look at you is enough to make Megumi turn pale in an instant. You’re sitting in a pool of your own blood, lids hanging heavy in your eyes. His heart skips a beat when realization hits him like a wall. You could die right here if he doesn’t do anything.

“Come on, let’s get you out of here”, he mumbles, hands on their way to grab your body.

“I don’t need your help, Fushiguro”, you growl at him.

“Are you sure? Cause it sure does look like it”, Megumi replies dryly and begins to inspect your wounds.

“If even half of that blood is yours you need to get out of here right now. I’m calling Gojo-sensei.”

“Everything hurts”, you blur out.

The sight of your terrified eyes makes Megumi’s heart sink in his chest. He has never seen you like this. But what’s even worse is the fact that he is so damn worried about you, that the thought of losing you alone makes his breath hitch.

“Stay with me. Don’t close your eyes.”

His voice sounds so soft, echoes as sweet as honey in your ear.

“Megumi.”

His strong arms free you from the rest of the rubble above you and lift your numb body off the ground with ease. Your vision slowly but surely begins to get blurry, it gets so hard to keep your tired eyes open.

“What is it, (y/n)?”, he softly asks while maneuvering his shikigami around in order to find the other curses that have to be here.

“I don’t remember a moment where you were so kind to me”, you purr.

“Well, that’s because there wasn’t a single moment where you were so kind to me”, he remarks with a small smile.

“I h-have to say…That…That you’re not…t-that bad.”

Your words are a true mess, so quiet that he has to focus on your low voice in order to understand. But oh you look so lovely, wearing a soft smile on your lips and that tender gleam in your eyes makes his heart skip a beat. Over and over, he told himself that he truly hates you, that you are an evil person that doesn’t deserve his affection. Always keen to hide his stolen glances and the way your sight makes him hold his breath. Your body, your brain, your everything. But seeing you like this, vulnerable laying in his hands, he can’t help but admire you. Admire a woman this strong and independent, a woman who never fears anything.

“You’re pretty okay too I guess”, he replies, hands wrapped tighter around your sagging body.

“How about staying awake for a little longer? I bet you can’t make it until we’re back at Jujutsu High.”

“I bet I will, asshole.”

____________________________________________________________

“She kept bugging me about telling you that she stayed awake to the end. And that you’re a loser.”

“So she’s fine, that’s great!”, Gojo proclaims and pads Megumi’s shoulder.

It was a close call, he knows it. And that sweet seconds just before the wall behind your back shattered…What was that? Affection? No, no, no. That’s simply not possible. You are the worst person walking on this planet. The thought of you alone makes his gut twist in disgust and heats up his face. You drive him crazy like no other. And the fact that you almost died and were a decent person for one second won’t change that.

“Should have left her there. I’m leaving”, Megumi mumbles and turns away.

Why was he here anyway? Shoko already stitched him up a few hours ago, he has no business being in the hospital wing. “Didn’t you want to visit her, Megumi-chan?”

“I would rather train with you than seeing her. Why would I care about her well-being?”, he remarks quickly.

Gojo and Shoko watch him as he storms out.

“Do they really think they hate each other?”

“Yup”, Gojo confirms.

The fresh air of the evening hits his face with full force. Fuck, what the hell is wrong with him? Why is he feeling this way? He shouldn’t be worried about your well-being, he shouldn’t care at all about the fact that you are injured. After all, you put yourself in that situation. God, he just hates you so much. In his world, there’s no place for positive feelings towards you. But still… He stops in his tracks, eyes glued to the ground.

Why does he want to turn around, to let his feet carry him into the hospital room, to sit beside you? What is it that urges him to at least check on you? Pictures of you flood his mind. Your breathtaking smile, the stunning glimmer in your eyes, the confidence that’s dripping from your sweet voice. Why do you have to be so damn perfect and why the hell is his heart beating so fast by the thought of it alone?

As if in trance, he begins to walk back into the direction of the hospital wing, back where you are. He has to prove to himself how much he hates you just one more time. Just once…

He quietly sneaks past the room where he hears Shoko and Gojo still talking. If you have to stay for the night, you have to be down the corridor on the right. Over and over, he looks over his shoulder. If someone catches him sneaking up on you he might need to burry himself alive. All the jokes, the constant teasing from Gojo about you and him really get on his nerves. Why can’t they see that he fucking hates you?

There it is, the door to you. As noiseless as possible he opens it and gets immediately greeted by your gaze. You almost look surprised when he closes the door behind him again and awkwardly stands in the middle of the room, simply staring at you with his hands in his pockets.

“Didn’t expect you here”, you comment dryly.

“Yeah, I didn’t plan on coming either.”

“Did Shoko tell you that I stayed awake?”

“Sure.”

“And that you’re a loser?”

He gifts you with his most annoyed look.

“Yeah.”

“Good. Listen, there’s something I wanted to tell you in person…”, you begin while nervously fumbling with your fingers.

This catches Megumi off guard. You always know what to say or react. How is it possible that you are jumpy? And to top it off, because of him?

“Why did you save me, Megumi?”

What on earth is going on? He scratches the back of his head, too stunned to speak. Are you serious?

“Just because you think I’m the bad guy doesn’t mean I am a bad guy, y’know”, he mumbles.

You let his words sink in, gaze never leaving his face. The last hours really showed you that Megumi isn’t as bad as you always tried to make yourself believe. He saved you despite all the things you said to him without even blinking, risking his own life to save yours. Maybe…maybe it isn’t even hatred you feel towards him.

But something completely different.

“I will never say this again but…I think you’re my favorite enemy”, you confess quietly with a small smile.

Megumi’s heart stops beating for a second, your sweet words triggering feelings in him he tried so hard to avoid. God, how many nights did he tell himself that you are no good, that he just has to hate you with all his heart? But…Is he really hating you though?

“I can probably give that back”, he mumbles.

For once in his life, Megumi sees nothing but your striking beauty and brain when his gaze meets yours. Maybe, just maybe you aren’t as bad as he thought you are. But why does he feel so strongly towards you? What the hell is wrong with his heart?

“Let me kiss you. Just once. Just to prove myself that I hate you”, he blurts out.

You hold your breath, dopamine, adrenalin and who knows what other hormones pump through your veins and leave you dizzy for a second. You didn’t just hallucinate him saying that, right? The sincerity in his eyes tells you he’s dead serious.

“Sure”, you reply automatically.

With fast steps he crosses the room, now standing in front of you. And then he bends down to your bed, grabs your face and kisses you so passionately that you forget how to breathe for a moment. Your tongue intertwines with his, dancing in the most delicate way while you hold onto his strong shoulders for support. Is this really happening or are you dreaming again? Just a few hours ago, you spat venom at him like every other month before. But this…This feels so much better than constantly insulting him and to pretend that you hate him with all your heart. You realize with all clarity of your intense kiss that you probably never really hated him. No, this feeling his completely different from disgust.

He breaks away from you, panting hard just like you. Your glossy eyes look up to him, hands still resting against his shoulders.

“Yes, I do. I absolutely hate you”, he breathes out.

“I hate you too”, you moan before pulling him close with all force for another passionate kiss.

Maybe, just maybe Megumi Fushiguro isn’t so bad after all.

But just maybe.

_____________________________________________________________

Bonus:

“Oh, (y/n)! Are you feeling any better?”, Yuji shouts at you while waving you over.

“OMG, are you seeing this. Am I dreaming?”, Nobara mutters next to him, completely mesmerized by the sight of you and Megumi.

Are those shikigami? Your hand is intertwined with Megumi’s, the both of you walking next to each other and…smile? Since when exactly are you smiling at Fushiguro?

“What do you mean?...Wait, when the hell did this happen?”

“Megumi, I thought you hate (y/n)!”

“Would you two mind to stop staring at us like that? (y/n) and I are kind of a thing now”, Megumi explains briefly while stopping in front of both of his friends.

“Did he force you into this, (y/n)?”, Nobara whispers in your ear.

You let out a heartfelt laughter, the confusion of your friends matching with your own.

“This might be the worst decision I ever made, but let’s see how it all works out.”

Megumi gives you a reproachful look and squeezes your hand firmer. Oh, even in a relationship, there will always be that small part of him that hates you.

Along with the much bigger part that loves you with all his heart.

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sempersirens · 1 year ago

Text

sun bleached flies | four

masterlist

chapter summary: joel seeks to make amends the only way joel knows how: messily

warnings: 18+, mdni. previous dark!joel/raider!joel. mention of ptsd, nightmares, some sexist/misogynistic comments, lotsa swearing, nihilism, alcohol & bad decisions.

a/n: hello! as you may know, i paused this series for a little while after receiving some comments about the content of this story. i was quite upset and reactive upon first seeing the comments and instantly pulled the series in order to give myself some time to consider whether i wanted to carry on. but, as is obvious, i really do not care anymore. i put detailed warnings before each chapter so everyone knows what they're getting into. if this isn't for you, that's okay! don't read! alas. thank you SO much to all of you who continue to read my silly little stories and send me such kind messages, reblog, and like. i love and cherish you ALL. this chapter is very much giving "it's the drama, mick. i love it.”

Joel's POV

In the movies about the end of the world, humanity always seemed so vulnerable. Not so much in the way that people would be literally picked off one by one by hordes of undead, but there was always the feeling that it took the end of the world for the human race to finally become their true selves. As if the worst of times brought out the best of people.

Joel had hated that trope. Whenever he, Tommy and Sarah picked out a zombie movie at Blockbuster on a Friday night they opted for the most gory, gruesome option on the shelf. They would simultaneously roll their eyes at any cheesy line snuck into the dialogue mid-fight scene - apart from Tommy, who would wipe his bleary eyes with the back of his sleeve in the hope that nobody had seen.

Sat amidst that gathering of lost survivors, each searching for some semblance of safety in the dire form of group therapy, Joel had perhaps for the first time in his life seen true, raw emotion reflecting in your eyes. You had always seemed so composed during your brief but sharp run-ins with one another, but this evening was different.

He'd watched your cheeks turn pink when the idiot stood at the front of the group prompted you to share your story. The way you unravelled speaking about Mia, it was as if your facade had shifted ever so slightly - perhaps even accidentally - because as soon as you realised your mask was slipping, you snatched it straight back and regained composure. Like she was your Achilles heel, the only thing in this world that could bring your walls tumbling down.

Joel had tried to follow you after the session to get you alone to talk about - he didn't even know what. He just knew was the right thing to do, and he had made a promise to himself to start following that gut feeling for once. But he had been trapped by his row of slow-moving attendees with little sense of urgency and menial small talk, and you were long gone by the time he had escaped the barricades of plastic chairs.

You'd had a child, his child. A child he had no right to see, and wasn't even sure if he wanted to see. How could he look her in the eye knowing the reason she had been brought into this world, knowing he had even let such a thing happen, to bring something so small and innocent into such a plagued existence?

A lot of things kept Joel up at night; too many things to count. The fire of bullets before feeling the limpness of Sarah's body in his arms. The mocking song of defeat, noise constantly muffled in his eardrums that reminded him of that damn flinch. Ellie's small body collapsing into his still-weak chest, fresh blood coating her pale skin. The smell of the burning building in their wake.

It was worse when the dreams reminded him of his own cruelty. Settlements raided and burned to the ground. Blades pressed through temples in the dead of night.

And then there was you.

He had stumbled upon you at the peak of his inhumanity. He wanted to blame it on being around the other raiders for so long, that the things he had only ever been a bystander for had finally seeped into his skin and corrupted him. He wished he could reject all of the shame and responsibility as an unconscious action of muscle memory.

When he saw you standing in your kitchen passing his brother a bottle of beer like it was the most mundane action, he thought his subconscious was punishing him again; like his first day in Jackson, when he'd dared to drop his shoulders ever so slightly at the sight of a woman he let himself believe to be Sarah. For that second all logic evaded him, all he could think was that his little girl was alive and well right before him. As if it had all been a bad dream and she would turn to face him like it had only been an hour at most since they'd been apart.

It took just as much time for his brain to remind him he was really seeing you and not another one of his nightmares. Despite the briefness of your encounter all those years ago, he would've known you anywhere. Even if he'd wanted to forget you, his brain wouldn't let him.

You had every right to despise him, to out him to his brother and the entirety of Jackson. Not only had he taken advantage of your vulnerability, he'd failed at the one measly promise he had made you in exchange.

His biggest regret manifested as a Bambi-eyed little girl staring up at him as if he were a stranger. Which in truth, he was.

It was still early when Joel returned home to an empty house. Ellie was staying the night at a friend's, Dina, or something. Tommy and Maria had reassured him that she was a good kid and it would do Ellie some good making friends if they planned on staying in Jackson for the foreseeable future.

So, he retired to bed and tried to disappear underneath the thin duvet in the hope of dreamless sleep.

After tossing and turning for what felt like hours, your feeble voice from earlier ricocheting through his ears, he admitted defeat.

One thing Joel appreciated about Jackson was the lenient opening hours of the Tipsy Bison. Something he didn't appreciate, however, was how the entirety of Jackson's male population seemed to think the same thing.

"Joel," Tommy called across the room as Joel entered the bar.

For god's sake, Joel muttered under his breath, all hope of a peaceful glass of whiskey dissipating at the sight of his little brother waving him over.

"What you doin' here so late?" Tommy questioned, trying to decipher whether Joel had seen through his suggestion of attending the support group.

"Couldn't sleep. Thought I'd make good of this... fine establishment." Joel replied as Tommy signalled to the bartender for two more of whatever he had already been drinking.

Two men Joel hadn't met yet were seated on either side of Tommy, and he didn't care to be introduced to them either.

"You go to that meetin' I told you about?" Tommy was never good at being discreet, making the situation sound more like Joel was eliciting some kind of drug run rather than going to a damn trauma support group.

"I did," the bartender placed a glass of whiskey on the table in front of Joel. "Saw your girl there."

"Oh yeah, she goes every week. How was she?" Tommy's face lit up at the mention of you.

"S'fine. Don't think she likes me very much."

Joel took a swig of his drink as one of the other men chirped up, questioning whether the topic of conversation was about you.

"She's my patrol partner sometimes. Doesn't like anybody very much, don't take it to heart."

"That so?" Joel mused, twirling the glass around in his fingers.

"Spends most of her time with her kid, and if not her, then she's with our Tommy and his Maria. Reckon they're all that's good enough for her in this town."

"Now, don't put yourself down like that, Keith. She's just a private gal, that's all." Tommy reassured the man to his left, earning a raised eyebrow in response.

"Hopefully not that private, I'm takin' her for a drink tomorrow night." Now the man on Tommy's right spoke up.

Joel felt his grip tighten around the glass, his eyes narrowing on the tall but weak-looking man sitting across from him.

"Well I'll be damned," Tommy laughed. "Y'finally wore her down, huh?"

"Other way round, really. I gave into her asking and asking."

"Now, now, Greg. She's a good girl, you better look after her."

"Yeah, really look after her, Greg. Be doin' us all a favour, might put a smile on her face for once." Keith added.

"C'mon now, boys. She's like a sister to me, don't be talkin' about her like that." Tommy grimaced slightly, which soon turned to a snort. He always did lose his backbone after a couple of drinks.

"Like any of you would say that to her face." Joel scoffed, taking a sip of his drink to stop him for saying anymore.

God knows why, but Joel felt defensive over you. Listening to the way Tommy was allowing his friends to speak on you made his blood boil. He could hear thumping in his eardrums, waving his hand in the general direction of the bartender for another glass of whiskey.

"They're just playing, Joel. She can be kinda icy to say the least."

"Yeah, why d'you think that is, Tommy? She's got a damn kid to look after, all on her own."

"I didn't realise you knew her so well." Greg retorted, his face looking more and more punchable by the second.

"I didn't know you were keepin' tabs on my life, who I know and who I don't." Joel spat back with a little too much vim in his voice.

The bartender replaced Joel's empty glass with a filled one, which he knocked back without a second thought before rising in his seat and slamming the glass back on the table.

He turned to leave, feeling the warmth of the alcohol settling in his chest.

"The hell was that all about?" Tommy had followed him outside.

"What?" Joel barked in response, turning to face his brother.

"In there, you gettin' all wound up over nothin'."

"Nothing? You said that girl's like your sister, yet you let them speak on her like that?"

"Oh c'mon, Joel. They're idiots I know, but they're harmless. What's it to you, anyhow?"

"I just thought you were better than that, Tommy."

"You're being crazy. Go home, Joel."

"Where d'you think I'm fuckin' going?"

He waved Tommy away, turning to walk back to his place. However, he didn't want to go home yet. He let his feet take him in the direction of your house, instead.

It wasn't too late, but he still knocked lightly on the front door so as to not wake Mia. He heard some shuffling from inside before the door creaked open.

"Jesus Christ." You breathed.

"Not quite."

"What the fuck do you want, Joel? Why do you keep showing up here?" You demanded, stepping out onto the porch and closing the door softly behind you.

"You know why, we have shit to talk about."

You scoffed and pushed your shoulders back, the smell of alcohol from Joel's breath making the thought process for his surprise visit clear.

"We have nothing to talk about. You. Are. Not. Welcome. Here."

"They were all in the Bison, just know, those pricks from patrol. Greg or whatever, talkin' shit about you. I couldn't stand it."

"Oh, please. What do you want me to do? Get on my knees and thank you for defending my honour?"

"No- not at all. Just don't want you wastin' your time with them when they don't respect you."

"And you do? Respect me?"

Joel couldn't find the words to respond. Everything came flooding over him at once.

"Please, I- I wanna see her."

He surprised even himself at the words that left his mouth, however, you didn't seem surprised. Your eyes narrowed while his widened, watching you take a step toward him, closing the gap between you both.

“Joel, I don’t think you understood at all. Why would I want you near her, when you’re the exact kind of man I'm trying to protect her from?”

taglist: apparently my tags don't always work so fingers crossed these come thru? sorry if i forgot anybody - if you want to be added/removed please lmk! @warm-tea-and-otp @mrsquill @ashleymsnodgrass @bluetattoos @mabermaple @hiroikegawa @casssiopeia @joeldjarin @southernbe @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @cool-iguana @drewharrisonwriter @none-of-this-makes-any-sense @randomhoex @ilovepedro @koshkaj-blog @ejuliet999 @love-the-abyss @jellybeanxc @mabermaple @radsanchez @powellssaturn @ok-boke @phoebe13 @ahintofkiwistrawberry @smexy-bucky-waifu @withasideofmeg @darkroastjoel @willowsvalley @forestfaeriequeen @radsanchez @moonlightdivine @noisynightmarepoetry @mysingularitybts @misshoneypaper @ezzynf @spideyyhoe @runningmom94 @disassociation-daydreams @serendipity22086 @lionlena @shotgun-shelby @daddy-din @dins-riduur-anthe @phoebe13 @bageldaddy

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perspectivestarters · 6 months ago

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Perspective's Sentence Starters; Preacher's Daughter by Ethel Cain (Part II)

TRIGGER WARNING: Violence, abuse, religious themes, ect.

THOROUGHFARE

You knew you had to see it all.

You had to get out and go chasin' its sweet call.

Don't run, I'll take you anywhere.

Hey, do you wanna see thе west with me?

Lovе's out there and I can't leave it be.

Love's never meant much to me.

I'll come with you if you're sure it's what you need.

Every small town diner saw our faces at least once or twice.

I started to see you differently.

For the first time since I was a child, I could see a man who wasn't angry.

It's been a long damn time since I left.

Now that I met you, I finally know just where I'm headin'.

You got lost in it and yet you found yourself. We finally reached the edge after all this time.

I didn't find my love, but I still made it this far without it.

Maybe not, 'cause look at what I've got.

You might not be my love, but, baby, I doubt it.

In your pickup truck with all of your dumb luck is the only place I think I'd ever wanna be.

GIBSON GIRL

You wanna love me right now.

You wanna get alone with me.

You wanna get my clothes off.

You came alone to me from however far away.

You're all the same.

He's cold-blooded so it takes more time to bleed.

Obsession with the money, addicted to the drugs.

Says he's in love with my body, that's why he's fucking it up.

I can be immoral in a stranger's lap.

Something they all want that only you can have.

You wanna fuck me right now.

You wanna see me on my knees.

You wanna rip these clothes off.

If you hate me, please don't tell me.

I would show you something you can never have.

PTOLEMAEA

I followed you in.

I was with you there.

You love blood too much.

You’d do wеll to say yes to me.

Suffering is nigh.

Even the iron still fears the rot.

Hiding from something I cannot stop.

I can't lead him back.

You poor thing.

There's nothing you can do.

It's already been done.

Show me your face.

Please don't look at me.

I can see it in your eyes.

Tell me, what have you done?

Make it stop, I've had enough.

I am the face of love's rage.

I am no good nor evil, simply I am.

I am here now as you run from me still.

You can't hide from me forever.

SUN BLEACHED FLIES

They talk all about that money and how their babies are always changing while they're breathing in the poison of the paint.

God loves you, but not enough to save you.

Good luck taking care of yourself.

That's how my daddy raised me.

If they strike once then you just hit 'em twice as hard.

In the end, if I bend under the weight that they gave me, then this heart would break and fall as twice as far.

We all know how it goes.

The more it hurts, the less it shows.

I still feel like they all know, and that's why I can never go back home.

I spend my life watching it go by from the sidelines.

God, I've tried, but I think it's about time I put up a fight.

I always knew that in the end no one was coming to save me.

I just prayed and I keep praying.

If it's meant to be then it will be.

I met him there and told him I believe.

I forgive it all as it comes back to me.

I can't let go when something's broken.

It's all I know and it's all I want now.

STRANGERS

Don't talk to strangers or you might fall in love.

You devour like smoked bovine hide.

I never considered myself tough.

You're so handsome, walking over to me.

I tried to be good.

Am I no good?

My memory restricted to a Polaroid in evidence.

I just wanted to be yours.

Can I be yours?

Just tell me I'm yours.

We'll make love in your attic all night.

Euphoric in some strange delight.

I'm happier here 'cause he told me I should be.

You're so handsome when I'm all over your mouth.

Am I making you feel sick?

Found you just to tell you that I made it real far.

I never blamed you for loving me the way that you did.

While you were torn apart, I would still wait with you there.

Don't think about it too hard, or you'll never sleep a wink at night again.

Just know that I love you.

I'll see you when you get here.

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missmaywemeetagain · 8 months ago

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Broken Glass Chapter 10 💔🥂❤️‍🩹

Ahhhh, my babies, we've finally reached the chapter I've been itching to tell you about for ages! And I cannot WAIT to hear what you think about it!

We left off in Chapter 9 with poor Lori fighting physical exhaustion and a gamut of feelings for Elvis (who's being a stubborn idiot), and when they arrived home to Graceland, their frustrations came to a head. Elvis finally confronted her about her past and a terrified Lori didn't take it well.

Now in Elvis' perspective, we pick up immediately after her collapse. He is mortified and lovesick and convinced that he's harmed her beyond repair. Oh, Elvis. 💔

Like I said, I can't wait to hear your screams about the twists in this chapter, so please don't hold back! 😁 I hope you enjoy!

Much Love! xoxoxox, Madi 💗

TW: Please scroll to the end only if you need them--I don't want to spoil anything for those who hate spoilers!

Broken Glass Chapter 10

Shit shit shit shit, Elvis chants in his head as you vomit violently onto the pavement, go grey as a ghost, and your terrified eyes roll back into your head. His lean arms wrap around you quickly when you collapse, keeping you from falling into your own sick or hitting your head on the ground.

“Shit,” he curses, out loud this time, following your center of gravity and scooping you up into his arms. “Lori! Come on, darlin’, wake up f’me,” he pleads softly.

Your body seems awfully tiny and much too light for someone who’s presence he can never truly ignore, even when he wants to. His heart slams in his chest, his blood already up from his temper, though it fizzled out the moment you started shivering and sobbing and apologizing like he was sending you to the gallows. The look of resigned fear on your face was enough to give him nightmares and that was before you’d lost consciousness.

He is no stranger to fainting women, it being a staple of his fame since almost the beginning. While he never could quite understand why he of all people caused such a reaction in young ladies, he was always as calm and gentle as he could be. It was his fault they got overexcited, after all—they couldn’t control it just as much as he couldn’t.

But this was different.

You certainly hadn’t passed out because you were overcome by the joy of his presence. Instead, you look like death, and he’s not remotely calm about it.

“What the hell happened? What’d you do to her?” Gene asks accusatorily, running up behind him, followed by the rest of the guys in various states of concern.

“What’d I do…? Shut yer damn mouth ‘fore ya catch flies, ya idiot, and go call the doctor,” Elvis huffs back, hoisting you up into his arms, swinging around, and hightailing it towards the house.

The fear that lances through him at your pallor and lifelessness hits like a knife. The seed of anger he’s held on to so tightly this last week withers at the thought he’s done real damage here.

This is my fault.

He’s not exactly sure how but he knows. He only had to take one look at your face when he called you out to understand you hadn’t meant to hurt him and your past scared you enough to risk the lie. Stupidly, he’d wanted the satisfaction of confronting your wrongdoing, for you to have a smidge of the hurt he was feeling.

But he never wanted this.

How could he have missed something was wrong? You are so damn strong, meeting every challenge thrown your way that he never considered you might be unwell. Selfish idiot, he chastises himself.

He comes close to kicking down the door to his home, but Charlie scoots around him fast enough to open it before he resorts to property damage.

“Come on, Little Bird, wake up for me,” he murmurs softly as he oh so gently sets you on the long sofa. He hates the boneless way you settle, eyes closed and completely unconscious. Nerves shudder down his spine and he doesn’t bother to hide them.

“Did someone call the damn doctor?” he yells at Charlie.

“Yeah, yeah, he’s on his way.” Charlie has the sense to look worried, unlike his idiot cousin who peers over his shoulder.

“Wipe that dumbass look offa your face and go get her some water!” Elvis snaps at Gene, who looks at him wide eyed for a moment before disappearing.

Brushing a lock of hair off your forehead, he holds and rubs your cold little hand in his as he quietly talks to you.

“I’m sorry, Lo, I-I-I shouldn’t’ve come atchu like that. I-I realize now that, um, maybe you had your reasons f’not telling me ‘bout your past. I jus’ thought you knew you could trust me, and-and it hurt that you din’t and sometimes I just get so mad I can’t see straight but I shouldn’t take it out on you…” he rambles quietly, “Please jus’ wake up, now, you gotta wake up, honey. I can’t do this without ya.” The admission falls breathlessly from his lips, soft as snowfall.

His heart plummets when he thinks about all the ways he’s taken his anger out on you this past week—ignoring you, throwing girls in your face, making snide comments—and his ego wants nothing more to justify his actions, but in truth, you were right. He had been playing mind games and not communicating why he was upset. He should have just asked you about it right after Frank spilled the beans instead of punishing you for something you didn’t even know he’d found out.

Lord, his mama would have his hide for such childish behavior.

Shame flames his cheeks and worries surround him like a dark cloud until the doctor shows up. You still haven’t so much as stirred and it has him nibbling at his nails—a nervous old habit he’s never quite been able to kick.

When Dr. Shaw arrives, Elvis shoos away the audience of men who’ve crowded the living room when he wasn’t looking. At least they all have the sense to look concerned.

“What happened?” Dr. Shaw asks, setting his bag down next to the couch.

“I-I-I don’t know exactly, one minute she was fine, well maybe not fine cuz we were in a bit of a disagreement, ya see, and well, she, maybe she was worked up? One minute she was standing there and the next she lost her lunch on the pavement and passed out,” he says, unsure if he’s making any sense.

“Did she hit her head?” The doctor asks, examining your hairline.

“Naw, I caught her before she hit the ground.” His leg jiggles uncontrollably, wondering if you’re okay, wondering what he could’ve done differently.

Dr. Shaw looks at Elvis over his glasses, taking in his nervousness. “Has she been ill otherwise?”

Elvis blinks. “Um, I-I-I’m not sure.”

The doctor is one of the only people who knows about his illness, who you really are and what you are doing here, so it’s unsurprising he looks a bit incredulous. “Elvis, you’re spending all of your time with this young woman, and you don’t know if she’s been ill or not?”

More shame bleeds through his chest and settles like a stone in his stomach. His face flushes red hot and the temperature in the room seems to have gone up without him noticing.

“Um, no, I-I guess not, sir,” he mumbles.

He knows his faults, and generally being uncaring isn’t one of them. But these past few weeks, he’s been thinking mostly about himself. His feelings. How your secret affected him. Not how it affected you, or why you might need to hide it. You’d tried your best to take care of him, apparently to the detriment of yourself.

No, he’d been mighty careless with you, and spitefully so.

Dr. Shaw gives him a pursed-lip look.

“I, well, now I know the new hours are keepin’ her busy, what with how I gotta live and all. I-I-I guess she’s seemed tired?” Elvis adds, desperate to fill the silence.

He doesn’t feel he can share all the other pieces, like how you’d been on the run from your mafia fiancé who’d…

Oh, Lord.

Dread rolls in his stomach when he realizes his misstep.

The nightmares. You quivering in terror on the bathroom floor. The bruises. Bruises he’d seen staining your body in places no bruise should ever be. The way you’d flinched when he touched you roughly.

Your fiancé had done that to you. That man was the reason you fled New York.

How stupid he was for not putting it all together sooner. Your fiancé hurt you, and you tried to escape the only way you could.

And Elvis was so afraid of loving you, so consumed by his own feelings, he punished you for it. Just another man in your life punishing you for something that wasn’t your fault.

Fuck.

His gut rolls, leaving him queasy. Through his horror, he wonders if you’ll ever be able to forgive him. If you even should.

Your little moan steals his attention as you stir slightly on the sofa.

“Lori?” he asks, jumping to, wanting you so badly to wake up so he can apologize, so he can make it up to you. “Please, baby, you gotta wake up now. The doc is here.” He grabs your hand and doesn’t even care how desperate he sounds.

“Mmm?” Your eyes flutter open and his heart swells to see those crystal blues start to focus.

“What happened?” you moan quietly, rubbing your eyes.

“You, uh, you got sick, darlin’ and then fainted,” he coos but there is an edge of disappointment in it, in himself.

Your eyes narrow and then widen with what he assumes is your memory coming back. He watches the trepidation and embarrassment fill your eyes. You slide your hand out of his, shirking back from him, and his heart crumbles a little.

I did this.

“Dolores, can you tell me what happened? How are you feeling?” the doctor asks.

Your attention pulls away from Elvis, your trepidation clouded by your struggle to focus.

“Oh, I’m sure I’m fine, probably just carsick from the bus ride,” you say, voice wavering, unconvincingly trying to blow off the concern.

“You’re not fuckin’ fine,” Elvis snaps before he can stop himself.

Your eyes widen and Dr. Shaw clears his throat.

“Excuse my language,” he apologizes, then tries to continue more gently, “but you’re not. You’re always gettin’ on me about not tellin’ you what’s what, so now you better answer the doctor’s questions truthfully, honey.”

There’s a beaten, submissive look in your eye that nearly breaks his heart. You turn your attention back to Shaw.

“I’ve had an ongoing headache for days…weeks, maybe? And I am exhausted,” you admit quietly. “Carsick on the rides. It’s probably just a virus. Nothing a l-little rest won’t cure.”

Dr. Shaw purses his lips. “I’d still like to do an examination and some tests. Is there somewhere more private we can go?”

“Upstairs.” Elvis jumps up, eager to be helpful and expend some of the nervous energy coursing through him. He extends his hand to help you off the couch, but you shrink back from him. Stomach churning with guilt, he watches as you warily push yourself off the couch to standing.

You wobble and sway on your feet, and his instinct kicks in as he immediately swoops his arm under you and lifts.

“Elvis, stop, I can get up the stairs by myself,” you protest halfheartedly, but by the way your body sags against him, he doesn’t believe you.

“Hush.”

Scowling, you don’t fight anymore, your eyes getting a dim and faraway look when your head plops on his shoulder with defeat. It’s worrisome.

By the time he maneuvers you up the stairs and into the bedroom, his growing unease has taken root. And it grows more when he sets you on the bed and you look like a shadow of your usual self. Like darkness is trying to swallow you whole and you are letting it.

He looks at Shaw, his eyes trying to convey the deep concern he now feels for your wellbeing, the concern that should’ve been there for weeks if not for his head being wedged so far up his own ass he refused to see what was right in front of him.

“Thank you, Elvis,” Shaw says, “Now, I’ll need some privacy to do the examination.” The doctor nods his head towards the door, dismissing him.

“Aw, hell no. I’m not leavin’ her like this.” He shakes his head stubbornly. The thought of her alone with any man but him suddenly makes his skin crawl, even though he’s known Shaw for years.

“Elvis, I’ve got her. Go. I’ll be down to update you in a bit.” Shaw’s voice is gentle but firm, leaving no room for question.

Elvis clenches his fists, his nostrils flaring.

Breathe. In, out.

It’s your voice saying it. He looks to you, sitting stock still against the pillows, staring into space, and realizes your voice is only in his head. It’s both heart-wrenching and comforting.

Finally, he nods curtly, then leaves his—our—room, shutting the door quietly behind him, resisting the urge to leave it open just a crack in order to listen in, to make sure no harm comes to you. But even in his current state, he knows that is overstepping. He forces himself to walk down the stairs, his mind churning.

After pacing the length of the house multiple times, beating himself up for his poor treatment of you, furious at your former fiancé for hurting you, and tying himself into knots with worst-case scenarios, he eventually finds himself at the piano. The only thing that ever truly quiets his mind is music. His fingers fly over the keys and he pours it all into the spirituals coming to him from deep within his soul.

God loves him best when he sings. Maybe He’ll hear his pleas for forgiveness, his prayers for healing—not for himself, but for you.

Lost in the music, he’s not sure how long he sings, but stops abruptly when Dr. Shaw appears in the doorway.

“Sorry to interrupt,” the doc says.

Elvis waves his arm dismissively. “How is she?”

Shaw hesitates. “It could just be a virus, but I took some blood and urine to test.”

There’s something he’s not saying, Elvis can tell. “And?”

Another pause. “I’m a little concerned about her…state of mind. I know I’ve only met her once or twice, but she seems withdrawn, almost traumatized. You said there was an argument?” He looks at Elvis with an undercurrent of judgement.

Heat blazes across Elvis’ cheeks, while guilt stabs in his belly. “I-I-I…yes, sir, but I’d never hurt her! And I-I don’t think…I-I mean, I don’t know…I think something happened t’her before we met,” he eventually gets out. It’s not his place to share your secrets, but damn if he’s going to let this doctor think he’s hurt you physically.

Dr. Shaw’s eyebrow raises, but he doesn’t press. He looks over Elvis with pursed lips and a watchful eye before his gaze softens.

“Can I go up and see her?” Elvis asks, almost desperately.

Shaw nods. “But she needs to rest. Stay off her feet. Eat well, if she can, and drink plenty of fluids.” Not run around after your ass, is the unspoken instruction. “Make sure she’s doing those things but…I wouldn’t press her.”

“Yessir.”

There’s tension hanging in the air before the subject is changed. “How are you feeling? Do we to have someone else step in until Ms. Cannava is well?”

Elvis grimaces, shaking his head. The last thing he needs is someone else poking around in his business, in your business. “I’m alright, sir. Probably could use a little R & R myself.”

Shaw looks at him with a critical eye. “Alright, son. Let’s keep it low-key, shall we? I’ll be back tomorrow to check in and hopefully we’ll have some answers.”

And with that, Elvis sees the doctor out.

He lasts approximately 90 seconds before he runs to the kitchen to fetch a glass of water and takes the stairs quickly enough that he spills half the glass before he makes it to his room.

“Knock, knock,” he says gently, opening the door. You are laying on your side now, away from him, curled in on yourself on top of the covers and the sight nearly does him in for how vulnerable you look.

“Doc said you need plenty of fluids, so I brought you some water,” he rambles, coming around and setting the glass on the stand next to the bed. “Can I getchu anythin’ else?”

You blink slowly, but don’t respond otherwise. His stomach drops. It’s unnerving, the way you’re staring through him at the wall, vacant and broken.

He can’t have done this, right? Not like this. There’s got to be more to this than a silly fight.

You’re a fuckin’ asshole, the voice in his head berates. He wants to disagree but can’t. But this isn’t the time for him to feel sorry for himself. Standing here being useless isn’t helping anyone.

What would Little Bird do? The thought snaps him into action. “Imma gonna just take off these shoes a’ yours, okay?” he says gently, not wanting to startle you. With care, he takes off your heels one by one, setting them on the carpet at the end of the bed. He wants you to be comfortable but hesitates to undress you, unsure if that would be crossing a line. But he can’t well leave you to sleep in the clothes you wore on the bus for near a day.

After a minute of indecision, he plows forward. “Alright, honey, I’m just going to help you out of these clothes, just down to your slip, okay? Nothin’ more, don’t you worry.”

You don’t fight him at all, wordlessly allowing him to move you upright and undo your blouse. There’s certainly nothing untoward about the way his fingers manage the buttons or how they unzip your skirt. It’s not the way he ever wanted to be doing these things, though, he thinks as he strips your clothes and pulls down the spread on the bed. You have no outward reaction to him lying you down and pulling the covers up over your body, other than letting your eyes fall closed.

He thinks back to the care you’ve shown him when he’s been such in a state, and it’s what gets him through the feeling of helplessness churning in his gut.

Once you are tucked in, he grabs his own pajamas. He’s got no urge to leave you or deal with the idiots downstairs. No, even though his mind is going, he joins you in the bed, attempting to read the book on his nightstand while worry nags at him. Eventually, his eyes droop closed and the darkness takes him, too.

You are a bit more responsive the next day, eating a bite of the toast and jam he’d brought up for you, but you stay in bed, eerily quiet and entirely too withdrawn for his liking. He does his damnedest to follow Dr. Shaw’s instructions and leave you be, but it’s nearly impossible for him to not check on you multiple times an hour.

Honestly, he’s not sure you even register his presence half the time and fuck if that doesn’t stab him straight through the heart.

Charlie and the other boys do their best to distract him, but he’s got no humor for the usual fun and games. No, he’s much too wrapped up in his own head, vacillating from wanting to punch his way through the wall and being so lovesick he feels nauseous. The only thing keeping him from totally spiraling is the fact you are still here and alive and in his bed. He hasn’t lost you yet, he doesn’t think.

He can’t lose you.

By the time Dr. Shaw arrives in the evening, Elvis is about ready to jump down his throat with questions. “Is she gonna be okay?”

“Let’s go upstairs, son,” Dr. Shaw says, in a somewhat ominous tone. If the doc wants him there for the conversation, the news can’t be good.

Elvis’ heart knocks against his ribs with each step closer he gets to you. You can’t be sick. He’s only just found you and Lord, does he need you more than he needs air. If he’s learned nothing else, it’s that.

Fidgeting, he lets the doctor in the room, following close behind.

“How are you feeling today, Lori?” Dr. Shaw asks, sitting near you on the edge of the bed.

Your usually bright and savvy eyes seem dull as you take the effort to focus on the doctor and his question. “I’m tired,” you whisper sluggishly, shrugging.

“Well, I think we have an answer as to the reason for that,” Shaw says kindly, then motions to him. “Elvis, why don’t you sit?” He gets up from the bed, offering Elvis his spot.

Oh, God, it’s that bad. His dinner threatens to make a reappearance, but he swallows the bile down, sinking onto the bed near your legs.

Dr. Shaw clears his throat. “Ahem, well, Lori, the good news is I don’t think you are sick in the real sense of the word.”

A wave of elation hits Elvis. Thank you, Jesus.

“You are, however, pregnant.”

The crest hits, disbelief slamming into him, taking his breath away in a whoosh.

“How’s that possible?” It falls out of his mouth immediately and without thinking, imbued with much too much innocence after his jaw hits the floor.

A deeply biological sense of panic washes over him then because it is most unmarried men’s nightmare, especially a man like him, to be blindsided by news like this. But his biology and his brain aren’t on the same level because it takes him longer than it should to reconcile there is absolutely no way this child is his.

This isn’t technically his mess.

But the doctor doesn’t know that and peers over his spectacles with a raised eyebrow. “I trust I don’t have to give you a talk about the birds and the bees, Elvis.”

A flush of heat hits his cheeks and he shakes his head. “No, sir.”

All at once, the gravity of the situation sinks in. The bruises. Your fiancé. That fuckin’ monster. The slightly judgmental way Shaw is looking at Elvis because in the doc’s mind, Elvis is the one who got you in trouble.

Shit.

Finally, his head turns to you. Your olive skin is deathly pale, your icy eyes more intense than usual and shining with unshed tears as you stare straight ahead. Your fingers twist around and around themselves, something he’s noticed you do when you are nervous.

Elvis lightly places his hand on your shin and your eyes whip to his for the first time in over a day. At least you don’t flinch at his touch this time. Instead, his touch seems to ground you and he watches carefully as you come back into yourself and out of wherever your head has held you prisoner since he yelled at you yesterday.

Dr. Shaw looks at the both of you before continuing. “It’s very early days, my guess is—”

“Four weeks,” you finish, the pain of knowing exactly how long etched in your features. It makes his heart ache for you, and more than anything he wants to find the man who did this to you and make him regret he was ever born. But now isn’t the time for all that.

Four weeks is the same amount of time you’ve known each other, meaning this happened after he’d already met you.

How?

“Yes, and anything can happen in these early days, as you well know. I know this is a…delicate situation.” There is unspoken subtext in the doctor’s words, and while Elvis is piecing it out, you seem to understand immediately. The look you give him is heavy and filled with words you cannot say out loud yet. The silence sits heavy between you two.

The doctor takes his cue. “You two have a lot to talk about. Why don’t I come back tomorrow to do your exam and get you set up with what you’ll need going forward? Keep your activity light for now.”

You nod. “Thank you, Dr. Shaw,” you whisper.

Elvis stares at you, trying to psychically glean what you are thinking, but your eyes have shuttered and his own thoughts are going a mile a minute. It’s hard to focus until after he sees the doctor to the door.

“Doc, this probably goes without saying, but we need to keep a lid on this,” Elvis says quietly. He’s too much in shock to understand all the ramifications just yet, but he knows this world is unkind to unmarried young ladies who find themselves in the family way, even if it wasn’t their fault.

He’s got to protect you.

“Of course, Elvis. The same discretion I apply to you will apply to her, don’t worry son,” the man says, patting his back in solidarity.

He ignores the concerned and curious looks from the guys in the living room as he takes the stairs two at a time, his anxiety rising the more he’s away from you.

Skidding through the door, he grinds to a halt when he sees the empty bed. Frantically, he looks around the room, finding you in the closet.

“Little Bird, what’re you doin’?” he says, watching in disbelief as you start pulling clothes and throwing them on the bed before dragging your suitcase, which had only been put away yesterday, back out into the room.

“I have to go,” you say, deliberately not looking at him as you rummage in the closet.

“Go?” he asks stupidly. “Go where?”

“I don’t know…maybe out West somewhere. Canada, maybe,” you mumble, as if this a normal conversation.

His pulse thunders in his head. “What…no, why do you think you’re goin’ anywhere in your condition?”

“I’m not an invalid, Elvis, I’m pregnant,” you scoff. “I’m—” your breath hitches for a moment, your shaking hand revealing your true feelings no matter how calm you are trying to appear. “This isn’t on you, and I know you were getting ready to let me go because I lied to you, which I’ve accepted, but I had no idea…I should’ve known. And I thought I’d have more time to get ready…”

His mouth might be catching flies for how dumbfounded he feels as he tries to follow your rambling train of thought. You scurry into the bathroom and rustle around before returning with some of your things, which you dump haphazardly into the suitcase.

“I know you were getting ready to let me go…” circles round in his head a few times before it hits.

You’re running. And you seem to think it’s what he wants.

“Stop.” The command is low and firm.

You freeze in the closet for a moment before grabbing another armful of dresses, ones he bought you even though you insisted you didn’t need anything.

“Dolores, stop this right now and sit yer ass down, goddammit!” he raises his voice, pointing to the bed.

Finally halting, he watches a shudder run through you before you defeatedly sit on the very edge of the bed, your arms full of clothes. Refusing to look at him. He can’t tell if you are more afraid or ashamed, but either makes his heart crumble and the thought of you leaving has him wanting to break in two.

He sinks to his knees in front of you, desperately wanting to take your hands in his own but not wanting to overstep in your fragile state. He softens his voice like he’s going to sing a lullaby.

“Little Bird, I don’t want you to go. Why would you say that?” It comes out too pleadingly, but he can’t bring himself to care.

You blink rapidly, once, twice, processing his words, the unemotional mask you are trying so hard to keep on your face cracking. “You…you were so angry I lied and have every right to be! I thought you’d want me gone as soon as you found someone new,” you whisper.

“Honey, no—”

“And now, as if Gianni hadn’t already done his worst, now I’m…I’m pregnant.” Your voice chokes and the façade finally collapses as sobs wrack your shoulders.

Elvis can’t stand it any longer, sinking onto the bed next to you, pulling you into his arms. You go stiff for a second, resisting, but he squeezes, and you relent, your head falling on his shoulder, tiny hand clutching the fabric of his shirt like a lifeline.

Every quiet sob coming from you breaks his heart a little. He still doesn’t know you like he wants to but knows without a doubt you didn’t deserve to be hurt like this. You don’t deserve to bear the consequences of an evil man’s actions.

Gianni.

That was the name you said. Rage simmers deep in his stomach, but now is not the time to plot that asshole’s demise, no matter how much he wants to. Right now, Elvis has to make sure you don’t do something stupid, like leave him and run to Canada.

His shirt soaks with your tears. The damp sticks to his skin and should be uncomfortable yet it’s not. It’s proof you are here, with him, and he holds onto that.

“Breathe, baby. Just like you showed me—in, out, in, out,” he coos.

Sobs turn to sniffles. Your body shivers but fights for those slower breaths, your grip on him loosening as you seem to calm. He is lulled, too, his racing mind given reprieve for a moment, distracted by your presence in his arms.

Heavy silence fills the space.

“I have to go,” you whisper, sounding pragmatic and defeated, but calm. Peeling yourself from the cocoon of his arms, you stand abruptly.

He grabs you gently by the wrist, turning you back to him. “Din’t you hear me, lil’ one? I don’t want you to go. I-I’m sorry I been such an ass. I-I-I shoulda just asked ya what happened instead o-of punishing ya for somethin’ I din’t understand.” Desperation he’s unaccustomed to feeling leeches into his voice.

He looks up into your shining eyes, hating the warring resignation on your pretty features.

“Elvis…” you begin, stepping away, “you have every right to be angry but—"

“No, n-no…I mean, yeah, I was, but that doesn’t matter now. Please, Little Bird.”

You pause. “I need to leave.” You start putting things in your suitcase, much slower this time.

His heart cracks a little more with every beat. “No, Lori. You…listen, I-I-I’ll be a much better patient, I promise. I’ll stick to your diet and routine and all that shit.” He tries to make light but your face fixes in a determined scowl.

You just shake your head resolutely.

Finally, he grasps your hands. “Honey, ain’t you hearin’ me? I’m sorry, so fuckin’ sorry, an’ I don’t admit that very often cuz I’m a stubborn ol’ goat, but I’m sayin’ it now. I don’t want you to go. So, stop this nonsense and talk to me!”

Quiet tears streak down your cheeks and you try to blink them away as you look down at him.

“I hear you. But you don’t understand—you’re not thinking, Elvis. I’ve got to go. I’ve got to go to save you,” you plead.

“What?” He can’t hide his confusion.

“I already put a target on your back. And if Gianni finds out I’m…he’s coming after me. Whether today or tomorrow or a year from now, I feel it in my bones, and I’ve put you right in the crossfire.”

“I can take care of myself,” he bristles.

You shake your head. “It’s not just that. Once the press gets wind of this—” you motion to your belly “—it won’t be good for either of us. If I go now and disappear, you’ll have a chance.” Your sentence ends in a whisper.

He blinks once, twice, trying to absorb what you’re saying. But all the logic in the world doesn’t change his heart. It doesn’t change how much he…

“I need you,” he admits, staring right into your eyes, unwaveringly.

Your lip quivers. “I can’t.” You look away before speaking again. “I’m sure Colonel can find you someone else who can fulfill your needs.”

Fuck. He’s losing you; you are slipping right through his fingers. Frustration fills him with frantic desperation.

“You ain’t gettin’ it, Dolores. I don’t need some other nurse, I need you, goddammit!”

His voice is loud in the small space, echoing briefly before the sound gets sucked into the sound proofing.

“Elvis…” you whisper, eyes going wide with questions he can’t answer, not now.

“Listen—jus’ listen to me, okay? There’s gotta be somethin’, cuz I sure as hell ain’t lettin’ you out there by yourself to get hurt by those goons. I’ll fend ‘em off myself.” His brain whirls, trying to see his way through the problem.

“No, Elvis, you don’t understand! This isn’t the movies! Gianni, my father, the famiglia—those ‘goons’—they are dangerous. Lethal. They’ll stop at nothing to get what they want. And if Frank knows I left, it means even if they can’t get to you physically, they can do worse to your reputation and your career—everything you’re working so hard to keep.”

Your face blanches and your entire body goes tense. “And if Gianni finds out I’m pregnant with his child, even you might not be safe from him. Oh, Madone, I should have never come here.” Green tinges your face and you bolt for the bathroom.

His heart races, slamming against his ribcage again and again. You paint a bleak picture, and your fear is contagious. But the fear of never seeing you again, of you being out there alone and in danger, strikes not only dread in his heart, but a protective fervor he’s never quite felt before.

An idea comes to him then in a flash, and the sound of your retching snaps him into action. Whether it’s terror or the baby, or both, it has you so in knots you are sick, and he can’t have that.

A few weeks ago, he may have been able to tell himself it’s because you are a good nurse, that he doesn’t want to train some new girl when you already know what you are doing, and that’s why he’s about to do something either wildly clever or wildly stupid. But he’d be lying.

He feels like he’s buzzing from the inside out with nerves, almost like the feeling he gets when doing a live show. It’s equally terrifying and exhilarating and addicting and maybe it’s God’s way of letting him know he’s on the right path.

Barely aware of how he got there, he’s in the bathroom, wetting a washcloth and crouching down next to you by the toilet. Not how he ever imagined this would go, but here he is anyway, brushing the hair off your cheeks. He’s so far gone for you, the sick doesn’t even phase him as he wipes your face.

None of it phases him enough to let you go.

You don’t want to look at him, he can tell, but you finally do, your ice blue irises vibrant against your bloodshot eyes, looking defeated and scared and miserable. But still beautiful. Always beautiful.

“Marry me.”

He says it with a quiet confidence only he could muster, despite the pounding of his heart.

You blink in shock, straightening. “W-what?”

“Marry me.”

“Elvis, you can’t be—”

He holds up his hand, halting her reply. “And before you say no, hear me out.”

Your mouth snaps shut in bewilderment.

“Doc said it was early. So, if we get married real soon—love-at-first-sight and all that—it’s still plausible to those without details everything is on the up and up, right?”

Your eyes narrow a little as you work through it. “I…I suppose so, if all goes well.”

A thought comes to him suddenly, threatening to ruin his plan, but he has to say it or he won’t forgive himself for not giving you the out. “I shoulda asked…I-I mean…there are other ways to solve this, less legal ones, but I’d pay for it if that’s what you want. I wouldn’t blame ya, considerin’ the circumstances,” he says almost bashfully.

It takes you a second to glean his meaning, your face going more ashen than it was already. “Oh. Oh, no. I…I’m Catholic. I don’t…that’s not an option for me.”

“Okay.” He nods, knowing he needs to continue, “T-There’s also adoption. I won’t force you to raise this baby, even if it looks bad for me…I-I-I would never do that to ya.”

Your eyes fill with tears again, a gamut of emotions running through them. “I don’t think I want that either,” you say quietly.

The weight of that settles between them for a moment before he clears his throat. “Alrighty. I hate to ask this, but you said ‘four weeks’ earlier…so did he hurt you after we met? How—how long were y’all together?” It all leaves a bad taste in his mouth to ask, but he needs to know in order to make this work.

Your eyes close painfully. When you open them, there is resolve there, covering your suffering. “We weren’t. Not really. Gianni set his sights on me a long time ago, and my father…well, Gianni’s family is powerful, and Pop knew a marriage between us would raise his status in the famiglia. My mother didn’t want it, but when she died…well, I had to help raise my brothers, and I was too young, anyway. Then, I escaped by going to nursing school and managed to avoid him for a while, but…,” you take a deep, shuddering breath to keep going. “…but the day after we met in the hospital, he cornered me after my shift. He, um, proposed, and I froze. I didn’t say yes, but I-I was paralyzed, and he took that as acceptance. Then he brought me home to an empty house and…stole what he thought was already his.”

Elvis squeezes his fists so hard his knuckles go white. He has never been a particularly violent man, not finding pleasure in it like some men. Even in his bouts of bad temper, his anger is usually taken out on inanimate objects rather than people, but right now the rage he feels at Gianni is downright murderous. He’d like to rip this man’s heart out of his chest for what he’s done to you.

He swallows the bitter pill of his rage, though, tempered by the anguish in your eyes. A single tear streaks down your cheek and before he can stop himself, he’s cupping your face and pressing his forehead to yours.

“Never again, Little Bird. As long as I have breath in my lungs, nobody’s gonna hurt you again.”

You suck in air sharply, then your body shudders on your exhale.

“You can’t promise that,” you whisper tearfully. “I can’t ask you to promise that.”

“Well, I am, and you know better than anybody I don’ take kindly to bein’ told what to do or not do, so you better save us all the trouble and jus’ accept it,” he says, and while there is humor in it, he’s never been more serious.

He fights every instinct in him that wants to kiss your lips, instead pressing his own to your forehead, wishing he could give you some semblance of peace. Pulling back before he does something stupid, he gently wipes your tear-stained cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. You let him, and he supposes that’s enough for right now.

“Does anyone know what he did, besides me?” he asks, hating that he must.

“No, not unless Gianni told someone. I didn’t even tell anyone he’d proposed. I just went to work and then Colonel offered me this job and I realized it was my only chance to escape. I didn’t even say goodbye to my brothers in person. I’m so sorry I lied and put you in this position,” you say, voice cracking with emotion.

“You were jus’ tryin’ to survive, honey. No one can fault you for that. I’m glad you got away.” And he is, he thinks, as he smooths your hair. He nearly gets trapped in the blue of your mournful eyes before he snaps himself out of it. He’s got to focus.

“The timeline works out, then, darlin’. Even if people believe we did the deed before marriage, there’s no reason for them to think it’s anyone’s but mine. Gettin’ married cements it, ‘specially with this new, a-dult image Colonel is tryin’ to push of me.”

Colonel is gonna hate this.

“Colonel is never—” you start, seemingly on the same wavelength.

“I know, which means there’s gotta be no doubt in anyone’s mind this baby is mine.”

Your eyes go wide in understanding. You haven’t said yes yet, but he knows how logical and practical you are. He’s got to make you see this is the only way.

“Will Colonel believe it, though? He knows we—I—didn’t take to this arrangement so easily in the beginning.”

“We gotta make him. And I think you continue to underestimate my powers of seduction,” he jokes, wiggling his brow, trying to lighten the increasingly heavy mood.

You sigh. “Be serious, Elvis.”

“I am. It doesn’t matter what really happened, honey, it matters what people think happened. And I’m bein’ honest when I say it won’t take much for most to believe we fell in love and you fell into my arms. Or vice versa. My, um, reputation’s gonna work in our favor.” Heat flames his cheeks, which he knows is silly, but he plays it off with a smirk.

Your eyebrow quirks, but you leave it at that.

He rambles on, “And I don’t know this, um, family of yours, but I’m guessin’ even Gianni is gonna have a hard time provin’ anythin’ if you’re married to one of the most famous men in the world. I can’t imagine even the mob will try an’ steal ya out from under me, so to speak. Not with our ‘love story’ pasted across the world in black and white for all to see. It keeps you and the baby safe.”

You go quiet and still, and he can see the wheels in your head turning. “I…okay. Maybe, just maybe, you’re on to something,” you finally relent.

His heart jumps and he can’t help the proud grin spreading across his face from your almost-praise.

“But Elvis, this is too much to ask of you. This is your life. I know you had no plans to get married, at least anytime soon—”

“Plans change,” he throws back, quickly and a little too adamantly.

“Not like this.”

“Things changed the minute I got this diagnosis, honey,” he adds soberly.

You go quiet, as though with everything going on you forgot what you were doing here in the first place.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking,” you apologize.

Elvis shrugs it off. But he doesn’t want your pity. No, he wants you safe, and he wants you to stay. And he’s man enough to admit this isn’t all for your benefit. He’s being selfish here, too, because, somehow, you’ve wrapped yourself around his heart and the idea of you ever leaving him fills him with despair.

You continue, “I hear what you’re saying, I do, but, Elvis, I’m afraid you’re not thinking this through entirely. You’re offering to raise another man’s child as your own, offering to marry someone who you don’t love…there’s no going back from that, especially when there’s a child involved.”

He swallows thickly, but not because he’s in doubt. Anything but. The image in his head of you smiling and laughing as he plays with the baby, of early morning whispers of love and sharing a bed in more than just name, of you helping fill the rooms of this damn mansion he bought for his mama with gorgeous blue-eyed children…it is so enticing and so close he can’t bear to think what might happen if you don’t say yes.

I love you.

And even if you can only give your trust in him to keep you safe and help raise your child and nothing else, he would still rather have you at his side and love you in secret than not have you at all.

God, how I love you.

If he let the words fall out of his mouth right now, would you agree, or would they send you running?

He can’t chance it. Not with the state you’re in now. So he steels himself instead, using the charm God gave him to get you to understand.

“Honey, I know what you’re sayin’, and it don’t change a thing.”

Those eyes of yours go wide, and he can tell there’s something you’re debating on sharing. A few moments pass while he lets you deliberate.

“Elvis, you need to know before…,” you trail off. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself. “This is it for me. Maybe it’s old fashioned, but with my beliefs, even in this insane situation, this wouldn’t be temporary. Gianni, my father…it’s possible they’ll never stop trying to get to me. And in my world, marriage is forever. Divorce is not an option. I…I can’t bear to think I’m the one ever keeping you from true happiness, from a love and children of your own. Instead, you’re getting a sullied wife who shackled you in a moment of need and who you’ll come to regret. I can’t have you regret me, Elvis.” Tears pool in your eyes and if he wasn’t already on his knees, he thinks this would have brought him there.

This is a tipping point, just like the moment the doctor handed him his diagnosis. Nothing will be the same after today, for either of you. God has a plan, he’d thought when you’d shown back up in his hospital room at just the right moment, and it hits him now—he swears on his dear mama—it was all leading to this.

“There’s no me without you anymore, darlin’. Who else is gonna take care of me? Who else can I trust with my life? I’m helping you and your baby, yes, but you’re keeping me alive, too. And you aren’t ‘sullied’,” he says with more conviction than he’s said anything before, his voice trembling with all the words he cannot say to you yet. He can only pray you see him, too.

The welling tears in your eyes overflow once more, and it cuts him to not know what you’re thinking, to think he’s the one making you cry this time.

“Don’t be sad, honey, please,” he whispers, begs. “I can’t bear to make you cry.” Unable to stop himself, he brushes your cheeks with his fingers, cupping one in his hand.

The way you lean into him is so slight he might be imagining it, but it’s enough to give him an ounce of hope, one he latches onto immediately.

“I’m not crying because I’m sad, not about you anyway. I’m crying because I can’t believe you’re willing to do this for me. You hardly know me,” you weep.

“I know enough.” And I’d do anything for you.

You close your eyes, dark lashes clumped with tears fanning across your cheeks. “Can you…can you give me a minute?” you say, not unkindly.

“Y-Yeah, yeah, o-of course,” he stutters, his heart fluttering nervously as he stands. Holding out his hand, he helps you up off the floor, making sure you’re steady on your feet before letting go. “I-I’ll be in there, when you’re ready.”

The door to the bathroom shuts behind him and he hears the faucet running. Waiting has never been his strong suit, which he’s brutally reminded of as the minutes tick by. He tries to sit on the bed, but he can’t keep still and jumps up immediately, running a hand through his hair while pacing the room.

But as much as he should be doubting his decisions, he’s not. He should be questioning his damn sanity, proposing to you like that—a woman he’s known all of a month who comes with more baggage than an airliner—but honestly, he’s never felt so sure of something in his life.

Sure, Elvis from five weeks ago may have sent him to the looney bin for offering to marry a girl and raise another (apparently very dangerous) man’s child, but that Elvis hadn’t been handed a death sentence and a ticking clock. That Elvis didn’t know his Little Bird.

That Elvis didn’t love her.

Hell, he’s much more worried you’ll leave out of some hairbrained thought he’s better off without you and get caught by Gianni, who he’s absolutely certain will hurt you in ways you never thought possible if he catches you.

No, Elvis isn’t scared you’ll say yes—he’s terrified you won’t.

He can’t begin to think of the despair he’ll feel if you disappear. Selfishly, he’s not sure he can stand to take another heartbreak, not now. It would be a cruel joke for God to put you in his life and then rip you away just when he needs you the most.

It makes him think of his mama and the gaping wound of her loss that’s only begun to heal. All Mama ever wanted for him was to be settled and happy, with a good woman by his side. He hadn’t understood why at the time. He’d wanted to focus on his career, to be free, to enjoy his youth and all the perks of his fame. But God humbled him right quick, first by sending him off to the Army, then by taking his mama. Since then, he’d spent too much time falling into the arms of woman after woman both drowning his sorrows and in the hopes he’d find the one to magically fill the void left in his heart.

Yet all of it led a path straight to you. And there’s something serendipitous about it he can’t ignore, no matter how batty it all might seem.

So, he best convince you to stay.

After what seems like an eternity, the bathroom door swings open. Your color is still drawn and sallow, the dark circles under your deep-set eyes more pronounced than usual, but you are hauntingly beautiful. Silent, you glide your way towards him slowly, your face shuttered in that way of yours, giving nothing away. His blood thunders in his ears and he hopes you cannot hear it.

You stop before him, mere inches away. Anticipation itches under his skin as his pulse ratchets up. He jumps when you place your palm flat on his chest, right over his heart, the way he knows you do to ground yourself.

Well, hell, there’s no hiding now, not when he knows you can feel just how fast you have his heart beating. You’re probably counting his pulse and getting ready to tell him to relax.

But you don’t. You don’t speak at all. You stare at your hand over his heart and wait, but he’s not sure what for. It’s not until his lungs scream for air that he realizes he’s holding his breath. He feels like he’s going to float away and finds himself shakily breathing in. He knows you feel it. His hand covers yours, anchoring him to you, trying to prove he means everything he’s told you and so much more he can’t yet say.

Finally, your eyes raise up to meet his so intensely he might have been knocked off his feet if he wasn’t locked onto your hand so tightly, feeling his heart thrum against your palm.

“Lori—”

Your finger shushes him, pulling against the fullness of his lips. The touch is electric, zinging through every nerve in his body and buzzing around his chest. He doesn’t understand what’s happening until you’re on your tiptoes, your cold little hand pulling down on his jaw.

The two of you have kissed before, of course, but always for an audience, and even then, you’ve never once initiated it. So, when your lips meet his so softly, he’s taken aback with disbelief.

You don’t waver, however, through the milliseconds it takes him to recover his wits, waiting patiently until every sense in his body hums to life all at once. His heart swells and his belly tingles and then he’s kissing you back, as gently as he can, swearing he won’t be careless with you again.

He wants to devour you but doesn’t want to scare you, doesn’t want to ruin this blissful, unbelievable little moment where your lips are pressed so chastely against his own, using them to say all the things neither of you can seem to say out loud.

The sliver of logic still left in his brain tries to convince him this slice of vulnerability you’re sharing with him is likely nothing more than a show of gratitude, but his aching heart can’t tell the difference.

So there’s no helping the way his other hand falls to your waist, cinching there, pulling you closer. Your minty breath puffs against him in surprise, then he’s gently chasing your mouth with his, unable to stop himself—the hope of it all, of what could be, is too consuming. He can’t stop the way it blossoms through him, opening pieces of him he didn’t know existed.

It’s dangerous, this hope, but Lord have mercy, he can’t bring himself to care about the risks. Not when you’re in his arms like this. Not when he needs you like he needs oxygen.

This little kiss is like heaven, he realizes, because you are giving it freely. It’s not for show; it’s not begrudging or afraid. No, a kiss like this from you means only one thing:

It’s an answer.

A promise.

Or it’s a goodbye, you idiot.

The horror of that possibility squeezes his throat, threatening to choke him, but he pushes it away fiercely.

When the sweet kiss breaks, he finds himself winded even though he shouldn’t be, his head bowed and pressing into yours. He threads his fingers through yours over his wildly beating heart. Anything to keep you tethered to him.

Not one kiss out of the hundreds he’s had in his life has ever knocked him flat quite like this.

“You don’t have to do this, Elvis. You are offering me so much—too much—and I don’t know how much I can give you in return…I—,” you whisper, voice wavering.

“You’re enough,” he manages to get out, not wanting to hear the rest. And it’s true. God help him, it’s true.

You breathe in a little gasp of air, one that makes his heart flip. Then your crystal eyes raise to meet his.

“Then, yes, Elvis Presley, I’ll marry you.”

TW: physical illness (fainting, vomiting), dissociation, Gianni and references to previous sexual assault, lots of cussing, unplanned pregnancy due to sexual assault, brief allusions to abortion

Thank you for reading, liking, commenting, and reblogging! It means the world! 💗

Taglist Pt 1

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