#he also takes picking colors very seriously in my heart and even gets matching colors on his nails too | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bukojuiice · 4 years ago

Text

— genshin boys as your college roommates who are head over heels in love with you

ೃ ft. childe, diluc, kaeya, zhongli, and xiao x gn! reader

ೃ 400-600 words per character! ♡

ೃ warnings: mention of alcohol drinking ( but aside from that, just lots and lots of fluff!)

ೃ this is my very first writing contribution to the genshin fandom, so i hope everyone likes it! after 5 months of playing genshin, i think it’s safe to say my brainrot for it has finally consumed me and i’m confident enough to brew something up! <3

ೃ genshin impact masterlist

ೃ if you want to be a part of my taglist, answer this form! ♡

CHILDE:

– You and Childe are the perfect embodiment of the best friends to roommates trope. Whenever you wanna sleep in for 5 minutes more and you’re about to run late for your first class, Childe never fails to slowly drag you out of your bed, laughing as he does so. “Wake up sunshine!” is the first thing you always hear in the morning and you don’t complain if you get to hear his smexy voice anyway. He is a confident flirt and is not afraid to show you how much he cares or how much he pines over you.

– He’s always always there to save the day. There was a time when your classmates stood you up on the group project you were making, and guess who comes up to you with glitter, glue, and colored paper? Childe, of course! He stayed up until the wee hours of the night with you just so he can help you finish it. He even promises to set things in a “very civil way” with your absolute jerk groupmates the very next day. You practically hang out with him 24/7 as most of the time he just barges in your shared apartment with some amusement park tickets on hand or to some expensive yoga or judo class. There’s never a dull moment with him and with each passing day, the more you fall harder for him.

– After a morning jog with him and seeing cute little dogs frolicking around with their married owners, Childe suddenly had the urge to adopt a dog with you. But, due to a no pets rules established by the landlord, the two of you opt to owning hamsters instead! Childe named his hamster, narwhal (after his favorite animal of course!) whereas you named yours bunny, to match his irrelevant pet name picking. your hamsters both share the same house/cage and even they are pining over each other.

– His siblings visit a lot, especially Teucer. At this point, there was never a day the little boy didn’t ask when are you and Childe going to finally become “playground playmates” (a term for lovers that they use in second grade apparently) since the two of you are living with each other and seem so close. Childe is always able to successfully change the topic and shift away from talking about the shared feelings that the both of you have for each other. But, alas, the day had finally came to be and during your monthly trip to the amusement park, Childe confidently confesses to you on top of the ferris wheel.

“So... everyone in my life knows that you’re my best friend. Yea, that’s pretty cool and all but... Can we be more than just that (Y/N)? Is there hope if I think there could be something between us?”

DILUC:

– Diluc is your posh and rich roommate who sounds and looks too good to be true. The fact that you’re roomies with the literal heir to the country’s biggest wine and beverage company sounds like something straight out of a fanfic. But, it was of his volition to decide to live in a penthouse near Teyvat University. It was the doings of his step-brother Kaeya who tricked him into getting a roommate so that he won’t be alone for the rest of his college years... aaand that’s where you come in. practically barged into his life, but, you were a blessing. an angel sent from the skies.

– He’s quite cold and unapproachable at first, only greeting you whenever he sees you but never bothered to engage in small talk with you. Even if the both of you go to the same university. It wasn’t until your second month as roommates, when you accidentally had too much to drink after a friends’ night out. You come home to see him in the living room, drinking grape juice from a wine glass, and watching a rerun of Hannah Montana. You practically collapse at the front door, he rushes to you and helps you up as you drunkenly confess to him in tears how you wanted to become much closer to him especially since the two of you are going to spend the rest of your college years together. That was when Diluc realized how distant and aloof he’s been and vows to make it up to you.

– Diluc is very talented. Albeit in very discreet way, he makes sure to make use of his talents especially if it’s an opportunity to make memories with you. He is an amazing cook as much as he tries to deny it, He’s a secret virtuoso caught in 4k when you impulsively bought a guitar one time and you asked if he knows how to play, and he does so well. He practically serenades you in the most non-obvious way possible. Lastly, He’s very athletic. You invited him to play tennis one time, betting that if he won, you would do his bidding for the rest of the week. Before you could even blink, he wins. His “punishment” for you was that you accompany him in binge-watching TV Dramas. Grey’s Anatomy and Downtown Abby are just some of the shows the two of you would watch. It is absolutely adorable seeing him so invested in these dramas. and since the next on Diluc’s list were sit-coms, you were preparing yourself to answer his questions on the context of jokes that he didn’t get. In a poor attempt to flirt with you, he calls out your name and recites in the most Joey Tribbiani voice he could muster, “How you doin?” You were laughing so so hard that night because his pick up line actually worked on you and suddenly your realizations came full circle: you were very much in love with him too.

– His naturally cool yet shy nature had always gotten the best of him. He’s always wanted to ask if you wanted to carpool with him to school. Riding with him in his Tesla sportscar that goes 150 Mph? Heck yeah. However, it took quite a while before he could muster up the courage to ask you (4 months of being roommates until he finally popped the question) Since then, the two of you go home to and from University whenever you had similar schedules. Ever since then, Diluc had began to soften. His cold and hard facade slowly melted. Asking if you could help tie his floofy red hair then he’d let you play with it and let you style it in different ways. He takes you out on café dates during lunch breaks and take you out to watch a movie after both of your late night lectures. Everyone in campus thinks the two of you are practically together at this point. All that was left was to bare your feelings with one another through a fumbling and awkward confession.

“Words cannot not suffice these feelings I’ve been harboring for you since the very beginning. I L-like you a lot. Do you feel the same way too?”

KAEYA:

- Everyone loves Kaeya. Your friends and family, The School Faculty, The owner of the Convenience Store from down the street, The old lady who lives next door, The little kids from down the hall, and even the angry brown poodles from the farthest apartment to your right absolutely loved him. it was hard to keep up with having a roommate that not only were you crushing so hard on, but also had such a vibrant social life. Kaeya interacts and socializes with a lot of people and he admits that it does tend to get tiring at times. But, if these sacrifices lead to coming home to his cute roommate who has captivated his heart since Day 1, then it’s all worth it.

— Despite how warm and friendly he may seem, Kaeya is a very private person. He’s brought two or three friends like Jean, Lisa, Albedo, or Rosaria. But, only to discuss school affairs. He wasn’t the kind of person who trusts others easily, even if he was giving off the impression that he was a trustworthy and reliable person himself. He’d much rather spend time with you on days off from school. He may be a party guy on the outside (he insists he does it for future connections when he graduates) but he’s quite a homebody. Kaeya is the type to watch korean dramas and anime with you, go on late night convenience store cravings, and these always resulted in a perfect evening spent with him. When the both of you are fully immersed into the anime and things get a bit cozy, you rest your head on his shoulder, huddling for warmth.

— Kaeya would always come home with a little something for you. May it be take-out food, A trinket, a board game, an accessory, and even skincare products. The indigo-haired man is very particular about self-care and you bet that he’s bought different kinds of face masks, ointments, and even matching cute headbands just for the two of you! He’s very flamboyant and flirts with you a lot. Trying to impress you with pick up lines and suggestive jokes, but you always thought that he was just joking around because that was always a part of his personality. It was always a part of him. For Kaeya on the other hand, it seems to him that you don’t take him seriously and it's possible that you don’t return his feelings at all. He had to set things straight and it didn’t take long until Kaeya found the perfect opportunity to do so.

— With the help of practically everyone in the apartment, Kaeya is about to surprise you with a candle-lit dinner up on the apartment rooftop. His sly smooth-talking quickly convinced you that the both of you were just going to go out on your nightly convenience store trips. Your curiosity grows when he takes you by the hand, covering you with a blindfold, and whispering to your ear, “Do you trust me?” Gripping onto his hand tightly, the both of you go up some stairs and you reply, “Yes Kaeya, I do.” He slowly uncovers the shield from your eyes and your eyes sparkle at the sight of the candle-lit dinner, complete with jazz music, and a romantic view of the city.

“(Y/N)... You are the most precious person to me. I hope you can take me seriously, especially my feelings. I am saying this with my heart in my hand and with nothing but genuine love in my soul.”

ZHONGLI:

— Zhongli is truly husband material. You’re saying this as his friend, as his roommate, and as someone who’s absolutely smitten over him. He’s a third year environmental archaeology student at Teyvat University. Gentle, kind, and has nothing but wise and intelligent things to say. your lovestruck self can’t help but just admire him from afar, not knowing that he too has been entranced by you ever since you moved in.

—He's always the first to wake up in the morning. The first thing he does is make you a cup of coffee. He's got your favorite memorized, (Coffee with cream. Not to sweet and not too bitter.) The both of you own matching mugs, (written in colored scribbled letters, “The Wise Roommate” for Zhongli and “The Cute Roommate” for you.) He always wants to spend his free mornings with you. Both of you have different schedules so you never see each other at Campus and this was the only blissful time of the day you can spend with one another. Once you get home for dinner, (Zhongli is always the first to get home if he doesn’t stay too long at the library or strolling around the city) If it’s your turn to cook or if it’s his, he never forgets to brew you oolong tea after dinner. A perfect chance for the two of you to just talk the night away and engage in deep and meaningful conversations.

—Zhongli fell in love with you because you just quietly listen to him. Sometimes, you would share your thoughts and insights, even sharing your own personal knowledge that Zhongli had not known prior. You were one of the very few people in his life whom he could talk about absolutely anything with. Well, who wouldn’t listen to a handsome man who has a voice as smooth as butter? He is very passionate about his studies. Taking a lot of extra courses and spending a lot of money on his research. and so, most of the time, he spends all of his Mora on his extra studies (excluding the money he needs to pay for rent) and other interesting antiques. You understood why though. So, instead, you ask him to accompany you to do mundane chores. Going grocery shopping, doing the laundry and cleaning the apartment. He always helps in any way he can. The prying eyes of people around you and the old lady fr next door boldly coming up to you to ask if you and Zhongli were a married couple. You blush profusely whereas Zhongli coolly denies the woman's claims. It hurt quite a little but who were you to complain?

— It was during one of your night strolls with Zhongli. He had invited you out after dinner under the guise of wanting to have some fresh air and find a clear spot for the fireworks from a nearby festival. Your heart was thumping loudly to a non-existent rhythm, blissfully unaware that Zhongli was feeling a burst in his chest too. He clears his throat and his shoulders straighten. Zhongli puts his hand on your shoulder and breathes deeply. His cool and gentlemanly aura still radiating off of him as always. A wonderful array of colors fill the sky as his lips began to form the words he's always wanted to say:

"Tonight is beautiful isn't it? I thought that this would be the perfect time to open my heart up to you... You are a diamond in the rough that few see the beauty of. My beloved– Will you accept my feelings?

XIAO:

— Having a popular twitch streamer as your roommate was a one in a million chance. Especially if you’re not even an influencer or internet figure yourself. But, how did this come to be? Why have you developed a crush on Xiao aka VigilantYaksha without knowing who he was? A gamer with over 6 million followers on different social media platforms? Simple, a high-end apartment near Teyvat University had a special discount if you were willing to be roommates with someone. It’s an amazing deal, near your school, cost-efficient, and you believed the 10% chance of scoring a hot roommate as seen on reality TV and romantic comedies. It was like rolling through a Gacha Game and getting a 5 star character. As that “character” is soon to be revealed as Xiao.

— Things started off rocky at first. On your first day, he flatly welcomed you by the door, introduced himself, then quickly retreated back to his room. As soon as you locked eyes with him, he gave off a certain cold and unfriendly aura. You wanted to get to know him better. Maybe with a little love and care, he could open up to you and you could become friends! That same day, you had mistakenly thought of your room as his and you walked in on him streaming a horror game. He wasn’t spooked by the jumpscares. But instead, he was looking at you in horror because you’ve just exposed yourself to thousands of people. You wave at the camera, apologize, and left. Since then, his fans, (called the Anemo Tofus) have been shipping the two of you together. Creating fanfiction and fanart of Xiao and the mysterious roommate that accidentally walked in on him. They practically begged Xiao to at least talk a little bit about you, to which, he declined. When you surprised him with dinner (as a little treat since this was your first week with him) He sits across the table from you, his eyes gazing deep into yours, as he pops the question, in a very tsundere tone: “Would you like to appear in my streams? T-the Anemo Tofus wanna learn more about you. B-but, if you don’t want to, it’s alright! You don’t have to-” You cut him off before he could continue his doubts, “Xiao! What are you saying? I’d love to!”

— There was something blossoming between the two of you after that particular dinner with him. Starting with your first “roommate video” that you had thought of when you were brainstorming for video ideas. It was an Almond and Mapo Tofu mukbang whilst the two of you answered questions from fans! The viewers noticed how visibly comfortable he was around you despite his usual reserved attitude. He was cracking up a lot more sarcastic and self-deprecating jokes whilst Tofu filled both of your mouths. Outside of the confines of social media and inside the comfortable space that was your apartment, you and Xiao grew closer. Wearing matching hoodies, going on midnight snack runs, playing in arcades, and stargazing with him up on the rooftop as you contemplate about life and talk about the mysteries of the universe. There were times when you would stay up late doing school works and would accidentally fall asleep on the sofa. Xiao would come out of room because he periodically had cases of insomnia. When he sees you on the sofa, he can’t help but smile at your sleeping figure and admire your beauty. First. he brings all your clutter back to your room then slowly picks you up from the couch, into his arms, and brings you back to your room. He places a blanket on top of you and your stuffed plushies next to you so you can hug them any time.

— On a particular night, you fell asleep on the sofa once again and begun to have recurring nightmares. Xiao was there to witness you whimpering, muttering to yourself, and shivering to a mental image that he could not see. (He wishes he could erase all the pain that these nightmares were giving you) You subconsciously grab onto his hand, murmuring to yourself: “Xiao, please don’t go.” He whispers back, “I won’t.” Your nerves slowly relax when you feel the Yaksha squeezing himself to lie next to you on the couch. Holding onto your arm, he continues to reassure you that it was going to be okay. You grab onto him, hugging him from behind. He feels your heartbeat revert back to it’s normal pace and you return back to your peaceful slumber. “I’ll always be here for you, (Y/N). I’ll be here to protect you. Forever and always.” Turning to you to plant a kiss on your forehead, you nestle your head on Xiao’s chest. He watches as you cling to him for love and warmth until he is slowly whisked away by his weariness, rewarded with a peaceful sleep he hasn’t felt in a while.

“And they were roommates.”

6K notes · View notes

junghelioseok · 4 years ago

Text

heart-on.

↳ your one-night stand definitely isn’t relationship material, but maybe—just maybe—your manager’s son is.

◇ hoseok x reader ◇ smut | strangers to lovers!au ◇ 10.1k [1/1]

❛❛ my boss is always telling me how perfect her son would be for me and she promises he’s coming to the next holiday party and don’t worry he’s heard all about me too and ALSO there’s this dude i slept with once a couple of months ago and sometimes he still sends me dick pics when i ask him to at 3 in the morning cause seriously dude’s got a good dick ❜❜

notes: welcome to the first installment of the serendipity series! we’re starting with hoseok, because, well, have you met me? 🤣 be warned, however, that this isn’t anywhere near as edited as i’d like so i’ll probably give it another read/edit tomorrow but for now!!! here it is!!!

⇢ series masterlist. | inspired by this post.

warnings: dirty talk bc hoseok’s got a bit of a mouth on him, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, kids!), sexting. dick pics, obvi. brief mention of a dead pet goldfish :(

You’re refilling your mug when you hear it. Voices filter out from the kitchen, floating past the coffee station where you’re pouring yourself another drink and hanging in the open air of the hallway that leads back to the rest of the office. They’re familiar voices, too—voices that belong to the resident gossips of your workplace. Lottie’s pitchy, nasal tone melds with Hyejin’s higher one, their conversation interrupted every so often by an exaggerated exclamation or gasp from Sandra, the third and final member of their trio.

“Haven’t you heard? Carolyn’s divorce was finalized over the weekend, the poor thing.”

“I can’t even begin to imagine how she’s feeling. I mean, getting back into dating at her age? Goodness!”

“And now she’ll be all alone at the holiday party, too. How sad is that?”

“It’s tragic. Poor thing.”

Rolling your eyes, you grab a packet of sugar and tear it open, upending it over your mug and watching the crystalline granules fall into the dark liquid within. You know for a fact that Sandra and her husband can’t even stand to be in the same room for an extended period of time, considering how they’d spent most of last year’s holiday party talking to entirely different groups of people. You’d sat two tables away from them during dinner, and they hadn’t even made eye contact once. And as for Lottie and Hyejin, well, you’re certain that their relationships aren’t much better. All three of them are miserable people as far as you’re concerned, and you make a mental note to check in on Carolyn—a sweet woman in her thirties who always keeps chocolate bars in her purse—on your way back to your desk.

“Sheesh. Vultures, the lot of them. Don’t you think?”

You whirl at the sound of your manager’s voice. Kyunghee Jung is a dark-haired woman in her late fifties, and she laughs when she sees your startled expression, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Easy! You’ll spill your coffee if you’re not careful.”

“I’ll probably have a heart attack first,” you reply, pressing a hand to your chest. “What was your job before this? Some kind of intelligence operative? Are you a super spy?”

Kyunghee laughs again and joins you at the counter. “Nothing even remotely as exciting as that,” she answers, plopping her mug down beside yours. It’s decorated with what looks like every color of the rainbow, a massive smiling sunflower taking up the majority of the surface, and the only remnant of the ceramic’s original color is on the very edge of the handle where there’s a lopsided little patch of white. The piece is clearly handmade, and a stark contrast to the simple mint green cup that houses your coffee. Looking at it, it’s impossible not to smile.

“I love that,” you remark, inclining your head at her mug. “Was it a present from one of your kids?”

“Hoseok,” she confirms, running a fingertip along the imperfect handle fondly. “I’ve told you about him before—he’s right around your age.”

You chuckle. “Right, I remember. That’s why he’s the perfect match for me, right?”

“Come now, there’s more to it than that,” Kyunghee defends, waving a hand. “But yes, to answer your question. He gave it to me as a birthday present when he was eight.”

“Well, you never told me he was an artist,” you tease. “Does he have an Etsy? Can I buy one of these off him? Does he do custom orders, maybe?”

Normally, your manager is more than happy to play along with your jokes, but today Kyunghee fixes you with an uncharacteristically serious look. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?” she asks. “He’s coming to the holiday party, after all. I figured you could finally meet.”

You blink. Kyunghee has been making offhand remarks about how well you would get on with her son, Hoseok, for over a year now, but you’ve never even come close to broaching the topic of meeting him. You don’t even know anything about the man beyond the fact that his name is Hoseok and that he works somewhere downtown. He also favors tall socks and yellow suspenders if the framed photograph on Kyunghee’s desk is any indication—or at least, he certainly did when he was still in diapers. Whether he still does, is anyone’s guess.

“Wow, I had no idea he was even interested in coming,” you manage when you’ve recovered from your surprise. “Did you bribe him?”

If Kyunghee notices that your voice is a few pitches higher than usual, she doesn’t remark on it. “Oh, you know. I just told him that this would be his last chance to score free booze on the company’s dime.” She laughs. “Three more months and it’s going to be all beaches and sunshine for me. I might even become a cruise person in my retirement.”

You gasp and slap a hand to your heart. “Kyunghee! Think of the environmental impact!”

“I said I might!” she retorts immediately. “Sheesh. Even in my old age, it’s hard to conveniently forget how shitty and unsustainable those damn boats are.”

You pick up your mug and raise it in a salute. “Well, the oceans thank you.”

“My husband doesn’t,” she answers with a sigh. “He’s been dying to book one of those trips that stop all along the Mediterrannean coastline, and I can’t exactly blame him.”

“That is tempting,” you admit. “You’ll have to send photos, if you do end up going.”

“You’ll be sick of me and my photos before the first day is even up,” she promises. Then she pauses, her eyes darting toward the kitchen where silence has fallen in the last few minutes. “Speaking of being sick—you think the vultures are still hovering around in there? I haven’t had lunch yet, and I need the microwave.”

Obligingly, you edge a little closer to the kitchen doorway and poke your head around the frame, scanning for Lottie and her sidekicks. “Coast is clear. Enjoy your lunch, Kyunghee.”

She nods and raises her mug at you, returning your salute. “I always do.”

///

As soon as the work day ends, you fall into your usual routine. Your commute home is easily walkable on nicer days, and though the winter weather is brisker than you’d like, you decide to walk for the sake of stopping at the convenience store on the corner of the block.

Once you arrive back at your apartment, you change into your comfiest sweats and a loose tee. You turn on some music while you throw together some dinner, and settle onto the couch half an hour later with a full plate and Netflix. Television is a welcome distraction from the events of the workday, and you manage to get through three full episodes of your current show before your pesky brain decides to revisit the events of today, replaying the conversations that you’d both had and overheard.

There’s no denying that you’ve been single for quite some time now, and for the most part, it’s been by choice. Ever since graduating from university, you’ve chosen to focus more on your career, and it’s paid off both in terms of the important position you hold in your company and your above average salary. And yet, you can’t help but think back to the gossip you’d overheard earlier—about the supposed tragedy of being single and attending the upcoming holiday party alone. Your mind wanders to Kyunghee’s son, Hoseok, and how he’ll be in attendance this year. You wonder what he’s like, and whether he really is perfect for you, as Kyunghee seems to be so fond of mentioning.

And then your mind goes to Jay.

You met Jay two months ago, on a well-deserved night out after a hellish workweek. The bar was crowded, and the music coming from the neon dancefloor in the back was just loud enough to drown out your inhibitions. That, combined with the alcohol swimming through your system, made you bold. You sashayed your way across the dancefloor, dodging inebriated bodies and swaying limbs as you fixed your attention on the head of pale lavender hair and deliciously broad shoulders that awaits you just behind the bar counter. The bartender is nothing short of gorgeous, and you’ve thrown all caution to the wind. Sure, several other women are eyeing him like he’s their next meal—several men are, too—but you need another drink. And while he prepares it, you plan to flirt.

A lot.

The bar counter is sticky with spilled liquor, but you don’t pay that any mind as you lean across it, the wood digging into the narrow strip of exposed skin left by your cropped top. “Hi!” you call, and the bartender looks up from where he’s just finished pouring a round of shots for a group of raucous young men.

“Hi yourself,” he says, his pillowy lips stretching into an easy smile. “What can I get you?”

You pretend not to notice the way his eyes flicker down to the dip of your cleavage and instead put on the sultriest smile you are capable of mustering. “Vodka soda,” you tell him, injecting a bit of purr into your voice. “A bit of lemon too, if you have it.”

“Trust me, I have it,” he assures, his smile growing as he reaches for a clean glass and a clear bottle. “Name’s Jin, by the way. I’m here all night, if you need anything e—”

A loud clatter and the sound of breaking glass interrupts the rest of his sentence, and all eyes at the bar go to the source of the disturbance. Conversations stutter to a halt, and even the thumping bass of the music seems to dull. Jin darts to the other end of the bar, where you can see that one of several barstools has fallen to the ground. There’s a man on the ground as well, surrounded by shattered glass and spilled dark liquor, and your eyes widen when you realize that you know him.

And arguably, a little too well.

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath. People are starting to lose interest in the spectacle, turning back to their own conversations and continuing on as if nothing had happened at all. The man is beginning to clamber to his feet, and a few people lend a helping hand as Jin begins barking out orders for everyone to step back so he can sweep up the broken glass. You seize upon the opportunity, latching on to the nearest arm and pulling them close so you can hide behind them. Vaguely, you’re aware of them sputtering in surprise, but you only have eyes for the man who had fallen off his stool, watching him carefully as he brushes himself off and tries to play it cool despite the sizable patch of whiskey soaking his white shirt.

“Hey, uh…” Your human shield is speaking. “Are you okay? You’re squeezing me pretty tight.”

That draws you out of your daze. Abashed, you loosen your grip on his arm and look up into his face, your throat going dry when you realize how handsome he is. His black hair is parted over his forehead, a stray strand falling into warm brown eyes set above a straight nose and an inviting mouth. There’s a freckle above his top lip, just shy of the center, and your inebriated brain wonders just what it would be like to kiss it.

“I, um—” You clear your throat and try again. “Sorry about that. I just didn’t want him to see me.”

Your newfound companion raises an eyebrow and glances over his shoulder at the drunk man, who is now being ushered out of the bar by his buddies. “You know that guy?”

You nod, cringing. “Yeah, his name’s Trent. I… may or may not have dated him for a few months last year.”

The man laughs out loud. “You dated a Trent?”

“What, like you’ve never made a questionable life choice?” you challenge. “Besides, you shouldn’t judge someone based on the sins of their parents. It’s not his fault they gave him a terrible name.”

“Sure, but it is on him for going along with it,” he replies with a shrug. “I would’ve changed my name as soon as I could if my parents had named me Trent. But hey, that’s just one man’s opinion.”

You laugh. “Okay then, Not-Trent.” Relinquishing your grip on his arm, you let your fingers graze his hand before pulling away entirely. “What do you say we continue this conversation over a drink?”

The man, whose name is decidedly not Trent, catches your fingers in his and gives them a gentle squeeze. “Happily.”

One drink turns into two, and then three. By the end of the hour, you are feeling pleasantly warm, the alcohol spreading through your veins like molasses and turning your surroundings into a hazy blur. The music has grown even louder, pounding against your eardrums, and you grab onto Not-Trent’s wrist as he sets his now-empty glass back down onto the counter.

“Do you wanna get out of here?” you ask, raising your voice to be heard over the thumping bassline. “I can’t even hear myself think.”

“The parking lot’s out back,” he suggests. “Why don’t we get some air?”

You nod and stand up on wobbly legs, cursing your decision to wear heels when you stumble into your companion. He steadies you with a gentle but firm hand, and you don’t miss the way his touch lingers on your lower back, his palm warm through the material of your blouse.

Together, the two of you pick your way through the throng of swaying bodies on the dancefloor. The bassline thuds in your ears, dark and hypnotic, and you can feel the reverberations thrumming across the slats of your ribs and echoing in the cavern of your chest like a second heartbeat.

It’s almost a relief, then, when you step out into the cool night air. Your ears continue to ring for a few seconds, but it soon fades and leaves behind only the muted hum of traffic from the street and the faint sound of music from inside. At your side, Not-Trent releases a long breath and leans against the brick wall of the building, and you turn to take in the steep slopes of his side profile as he tilts his head up toward the velvety night sky.

He’s handsome. Dressed in ripped jeans and black leather, he’s a sight to behold, and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been craving a bit of intimacy for quite some time now. The alcohol swimming through your system makes you bolder than you normally would be, and you reach out to lay a hand on his arm. He turns toward you with a silent question glimmering in his irises, but you simply step closer, until you’re pinning him against the wall with your body and you’re breathing the same air.

“Hey,” you say, your voice an airy whisper. His eyes are near obsidian in the dimness of the parking lot, illuminated only by the orange glow of the streetlamps on either end, and your gaze flickers down to his mouth before roving to the freckle that sits upon his top lip. “Kiss me?”

Your companion’s eyes widen. His lips part, but no words come out, and you’re about to repeat your question when he finally finds his voice again.

“That’s really… that’s not a good idea.” Awkwardly, he clears his throat, but the hoarseness of his voice and the harsh bob of his Adam’s apple give away his true desires. “Look, you’ve been drinking. We both have, and—”

You cut him off, pushing up to your tiptoes and planting a messy kiss to the soft dip just beneath his bottom lip. “Don’t care,” you mumble against his skin. “I want you.”

Your companion laughs weakly. His hands find their way to your waist and pause there, as if he can’t decide whether to push you away or pull you closer. “You don’t even know me,” he murmurs.

“I don’t have to know you,” you reply. Your fingers drag down his chest, trailing along the delicate silver necklace that rests against the black of his shirt. From the chain hangs a round pendant, the surface engraved with the letter J. Slowly, you trace it with a fingertip, the metal shining even in the dim light, and satisfaction blooms in your heart when your companion’s throat bobs again. “I want you,” you breathe, soft but insistent. “Isn’t that enough?”

“I—” He clears his throat and tries again, and you wonder if he realizes that his hands have slid down to your hips, or that there’s a growing hardness against your lower stomach that’s becoming increasingly harder to ignore. “Look, I’m flattered—really, I am. And you’re… I mean, fuck, you’re gorgeous. But I don’t think we should do anything when you’re clearly not in the right frame of mind to be making this kind of decision, and—”

“And, nothing.” You wind your arms around his neck, pressing close and grinding subtly against the bulge in his pants. You smirk when he releases a low hiss from between his teeth, and hide it by laying a trail of kisses along the stretch of bare skin exposed by the dip of his collar. “Stop being such a gentleman,” you whisper. Your fingers trail down his chest, past the silver of his pendant and down to the faded denim of his jeans, teasing at the cool metal of his belt buckle. “I want this. But if you’re not interested, I can always go back in there and—”

The rest of your sentence dies in your throat. Your companion has tugged you flush against him in one smooth motion, and your gasp is cut off by the firm press of his mouth against yours. Immediately, you melt into the kiss, and a moan tears from your lips when he spins you around and pins you against the brick wall of the building.

“You’re a spoiled little thing, huh?” His breath fans hot against your cheeks, and you shiver when you meet his eyes and see the dark promise reflected there. “Used to getting what you want, huh, princess?”

Your breath hitches at the endearment—something your companion doesn’t miss. “Oh, you like that?” He chuckles hoarsely, and when he speaks again it’s in a rasp that sends heat straight to your core. “What else do you like, hmm? You want me to be rough with you, princess? Or should I be gentle and treat you like a queen?”

You reach up, raking your fingers through his hair and skimming across the soft strands of his undercut before finding purchase at his nape. “You talk too much,” you whisper.

And then you’re crushing your mouth back against his, whining when he immediately takes back control of the kiss. His grip slides downward, his fingertips digging into the skin just above the curve of your ass, and you squeak when he grabs the back of your thigh and hooks your leg around his waist.

“You feel that?” he rasps into your ear, nipping at the delicate shell and chortling when you keen. Your skirt has ridden up dangerously high on your spread thighs, and you let out a soft whimper when he grinds harshly against your center. The lace of your panties and the denim of his jeans are the last barricades between you, and you wonder, vaguely, whether your companion has a bit of an exhibitionist streak when he slides one of your sleeves down your shoulder and begins kissing a trail down to the swell of your cleavage. “You feel how hard you’ve gotten me?”

You lean down, kissing the soft spot where his jaw meets his ear before letting your teeth graze against his skin. “Why don’t you do something about it then?”

He hisses out a sharp breath, his hands tightening their hold on your hips. “You’ve got quite the mouth on you, huh? I can’t wait to make you eat your words.”

Any retort you may have had is interrupted by a sudden swell of music and the sound of a slamming door. Whirling to face the source of the noise, you immediately spot a familiar head of lavender hair atop broad shoulders encapsulated in the black uniform of the bar. Jin hasn’t noticed the two of you yet, his attention fixated on his cell phone screen, but he looks up when you let out a little squeak of surprise and shove your companion’s chest in an attempt to create some distance between you.

“Hey.” Jin raises a hand in greeting, a knowing smirk curling his lips. “This phone call shouldn’t be too long, so please. Don’t stop the party on my behalf.”

Heat floods to your cheeks. There isn’t much use protesting against his insinuation, considering the rather compromising position you’re in. Much to your relief, though, your companion simply huffs out a chuckle and waves Jin off. “Thanks, man, but we’ll get out of your hair.” Lowering his voice, he turns back to you. “Coming, princess?”

You nod. He offers you his hand, and you take it gratefully, adjusting your skirt so that it drapes properly over your hips and thighs again.

“Have a good night!” Jin calls after you, amusement lacing every word. You can’t work up the nerve to respond, and luckily, you don’t have to. Your companion leads you around the corner of the building, where several rows of cars are parked beneath an orange streetlamp. On this side, the exterior brick wall is painted with a mural, and you admire the colorful galaxies and nebulae swirling amidst silvery white stars and the word serendipity spray-painted in pale blue.

The last car in the row is parked just beneath the letter Y, and it’s here that your companion stops. The sleek black vehicle has an almost vintage feel to it, and you glance up when you hear the jingle of metal.

“I’m guessing this is yours?”

He nods, pulling a set of keys from the pocket of his leather jacket and inserting one into the lock. “Yeah. You like it?”

“It’s beautiful,” you tell him, tracing the edge of the passenger window “Makes my car look like a total piece of shit by comparison.”

Your companion chuckles, pulling open the driver’s side door, and you catch a glimpse of your reflection in the window as he presses a button to unlock the rest of the doors. Your hair’s a bit of a mess and your mascara has smudged beneath your right eye, and you hurriedly swipe at it as your companion turns his attention back to you.

“So,” he says. “Now what? I can give you a ride home, if you want.”

Deliberately, you let your gaze drop down to his crotch, where his bulge—albeit waning—is still visible. “Seriously? I thought you were going to… what was it again? Make me eat my words?”

And just like that, it’s as if a switch has flipped. His eyes darken to obsidian, his lips settling into a stern line, and you barely have time to draw in a breath before he’s caging you against the side of his car and molding his mouth to yours. Your lips part beneath the onslaught, and he wastes no time in dipping inside to explore, licking into you until you’re both breathless.

“Inside,” he breathes once you’ve broken apart, and you instantly obey. You wrench the door open and all but tumble into the backseat, and he isn’t far behind as he slots himself between your spread thighs. Your hands fly to his shoulders where you help him shuck off his leather jacket, tossing it carelessly to the front where it lands in a heap on the dashboard before focusing your attention on the hem of his black t-shirt. Your companion obliges you as you push it upward to expose his toned abdomen, grabbing it by the collar and pulling it off the rest of the way when your reach falls a little short in the cramped interior of the backseat.

“Your turn,” he whispers when you try to reach for his belt, his hands settling around your wrists. “It’s only fair, princess.”

Pouting, you let your hands fall limp in his grasp, and he chuckles as he leans down to pacify you with a kiss. Deft fingers find the hem of your blouse, pushing it up until you can twist out of the material. You throw it aside with no regard for where it lands on the ground, and lay back as your companion drinks you in, his dark gaze raking across the lacy black lingerie that decorates your curves and skims you like a second skin. “Fuck,” he breathes, his voice hoarse with a combination of amazement and disbelief. “You’re stunning.”

You smile, trailing a fingertip from the dip of his collarbone down to the silver necklace that sits prettily against his bare chest. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you tell him, tracing the letter engraved into his pendant. “Jay.”

Your companion—newly dubbed Jay—smiles back. “You’re something else, princess,” he murmurs, before leaning down to kiss you again. He explores your mouth thoroughly—languidly—before moving down to nip at your neck, and already, you can feel the beginnings of marks beginning to form, blossoming across your skin as irrefutable proof of your tryst.

It isn’t long before Jay frees you from your bra, watching with carnal fascination as your breasts spill out of the lacy material. You whine when he reaches out to cup one, his palm hot against your bare skin, and he smirks crookedly when a pinch to your nipple makes your back arch off the leather of the seat. “So pretty,” he rasps. “I can’t wait to see how you look stretched around my cock.”

“Stop waiting, then,” you tell him, trying again for his belt buckle. This time, he lets you fumble it open, leaning back to watch you work with hooded eyes and a lazy little smile. Emboldened, you push aside the denim of his jeans and free his cock from the confines of his underwear. He’s hard and hot and heavy in your palm, and your tongue darts out instinctively at the sight of the pearlescent precum beading the tip.

“Jay,” you murmur, thumbing across the head of his erection and smirking when he hisses in pleasure. “Fuck me.”

Jay seems to consider your demand, mischief flitting across his features before he manages to school his expression into something more neutral. “Where are your manners, princess?” he asks, pushing your hand away and giving himself a few long, slow strokes. “Say please, if you want it so bad.”

For a moment, you consider refusing. Jay seems to be the type of man who enjoys a good game, but between the state of his cock and the earlier interruption, you’re pretty sure he’s nearing his limit. And even if he isn’t, you are. And so, you shelve your pride for the time being, and trail a hand down the length of your bared body as you bat your lashes up at him. “Fuck me, Jay,” you repeat. “Please. Want your cock so bad.”

His answering smile is equal parts amusement and satisfaction, and altogether sinful. “That’s my girl,” he rasps, before shoving your panties aside. Lining the head of his cock up, he enters you in one smooth thrust, and you moan as your walls stretch to accommodate his girth. You’re more than wet enough to take him in his entirety, your eyes fluttering shut when he bottoms out, and he groans hoarsely as he takes a second to relish the feeling of your walls gripping him so tightly.

“Fuck. You’re so wet, princess.” Jay dips a thumb into your slick, spreading it across your clit and rubbing a few experimental circles around the sensitive nub. He groans when you clench around him, his hips stuttering, and you squeeze around him again just to hear him grit out another curse. “Shit. I’m not going to last long at this rate.”

“Don’t care,” you murmur, rocking against him and sighing when the motion sends him a little deeper into your core. “Just fuck me, Jay. Please.”

Jay leans in, a dark lock of hair falling across his forehead as he plants an indulgent kiss on your waiting mouth. “Anything for you, princess,” he breathes. Slowly, he pulls back until only the tip of his cock remains inside you. Then he’s slamming forward, and you can’t even find it in yourself to care about the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin or the way the car rocks. Jay’s thumbing across your clit in tight circles that he times perfectly with the rock of his hips, and you wonder whether the rapidly building pleasure in your belly is due to your dry spell or if he’s just that good. You can feel every inch of him as he fills you up repeatedly, his brows furrowed in concentration and his dark hair flopping as he drives deeper in search of the spot that will have you seeing stars.

You know he’s found it when the pleasure in your belly spikes, your back arching off the backseat. Your skin is sticky against the dark leather and you’re certain the sweat gathering at your temples has destroyed the last of your makeup, but Jay alleviates your concerns with a particularly well-timed thrust and a harsh nip to the soft spot at your clavicle. You keen out something unintelligible, and his lips stretch into a smirk against your skin.

“That’s it,” he encourages. “Cum for me, princess.”

That’s all it takes for the mounting pressure to snap. Your body collapses into a searing orgasm, the pleasure flaring out like a supernova and spreading through your veins like wildfire. “F-fuck, Jay—” you gasp, your fingers scrabbling at his back for purchase and no doubt leaving scratches in their wake. “Fuck, you feel so—”

The remainder of your words trail off into garbled nonsense, and Jay huffs out a strained chuckle as he begins chasing after his own orgasm, rutting against you in a way that both prolongs your pleasure and sustains his own. “Shit,” he groans, his eyes fluttering shut. “Fuck, that’s it. Look at you—taking my cock so well. So pretty and perfect and—”

Whatever he was going to say dissolves into a groan as he gives a few more erratic thrusts before his release overwhelms him. Creamy warmth floods through you, and you rub his back tiredly as his head drops onto your shoulder, his breath flaring hot against your skin as he rides out his orgasm.

It takes several long seconds for the pleasure to recede. Your legs are still shaky when Jay pulls away, straightening up and tucking himself back into his jeans. There’s an empty ache in your core now that you are no longer stuffed full of his cock, and already, you are missing the feeling. Still, you push that aside as you sit up, adjusting your panties and wincing at the wetness that soaks the material and sticks to your skin.

“So,” Jay says after a moment’s silence, and you glance over at him when he huffs out a short chuckle. “That was fun.”

“Not bad at all,” you agree weakly, an irrepressible smile tugging at your lips.

Jay grins. It’s a bright, infectious grin—and it’s one that you’ve already grown rather fond of in the short period of time you’ve known him. It’s a grin that showcases his perfect teeth and crinkles his eyes into crescents, and one that all but forces you to grin back.

“Here, give me your phone,” he says, and you watch as he punches in his number once you hand it over. “Just in case you ever wanna do this again,” he tells you, handing it back. “Don’t be a stranger, princess.”

You glance down at his contact information, saved under the moniker you’d given him and affixed with a short string of emojis. “I won’t,” you tell him, chuckling. “In fact, I just might take you up on the offer.”

The screen of your laptop has long since gone dark, and you stretch your arms overhead before waking it again. Rolling your shoulders, you navigate back to the main Netflix menu, hovering over the resume button and watching the trailer loop in the background.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t think about Jay often. You’ve texted each other quite often since that night in his car—usually when you’re bored and alone and have had a few too many glasses of wine in the evenings. You’ve found yourself tapping on his name instinctively during those odd, ambiguous hours—when late night and early morning meld together and you’re aching for a bit of relief.

And as if he knows you’re thinking about him, your phone buzzes against the coffee table, the screen lighting up with a familiar name.

[11:22pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: thinkin about u, pretty girl 😘

It’s followed by an image, and your heart rate picks up, thudding loudly against your ribs as you open it.

Fuck.

Your memories of Jay’s face—made all the more hazy by the alcohol and the amount of time elapsed since your first and only meeting—truly don’t do him justice. Though the photograph cuts off just above his nose, you can still admire the sharp angle of his jaw and the fullness of his puckered lips. His skin is golden against the white of his t-shirt, and you lick your lips before thumbing across your screen to respond.

[11:23pm] You: yeah? what else are you thinking about, hmm?

His response is instantaneous.

[11:23pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: thinking about that pretty little pussy of yours

[11:23pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: how good it looked in that pic u sent me tuesday 👅

You barely even notice the way your hand begins trailing down your body, pushing aside the elastic waistband of your sweats. It’s as if you’re on autopilot, as your fingers find their way to the damp spot growing on your panties.

Yeah? you write back with your free hand, already teasing at your clothed folds with the other. Tell me more.

///

It’s an uncharacteristically warm Friday morning when you find yourself in the elevator with Jimin, a good friend of yours who works on one of the lower levels of your office building. “Morning,” he says as he steps in, a large iced coffee in hand despite the fact that it’s still very much the middle of winter. Then he squints, leaning a little closer. “Oh my god. You got laid!”

“Oh my god, not so loud!” you hiss, whacking him on the shoulder and jabbing the button to close the elevator doors. “And no, not exactly. I’ve just been texting Jay.”

“Texting, sure.” Jimin mimes air quotes around the word and rolls his eyes. “You’re sexting him, and we all know it. How many pictures of his dick do you have saved on your phone now?”

“Oh my—” You sigh, trailing off. “Can we not talk about this right now?”

“Right, of course.” Jimin takes a sip of his coffee and pretends to check his watch. “When would you like to talk about it then? Do you need to check your calendar? Can I book an appointment for later this afternoon?”

You stick your tongue out at him. “Shut up.”

Jimin just grins, his lips puckered around his straw. “So, how’s Jay? Have you asked for his real name yet?”

You shrug. “What’s the point? It’s not like we’re friends or anything. We’ve literally only met the one time.”

“Yeah, but that’s just because you’re a coward,” Jimin points out. “What’s stopping you from meeting up with him again? You have his number. You have at least one photo of his dick. Ask him out already!”

“It’s not that easy, though,” you sigh. The elevator doors open to let a few more people in, and you move to the side and lower your voice so that only Jimin can hear. “Jay—he’s not exactly boyfriend material. I mean, we fucked in his car the first night we met.”

“So?” Jimin frowns and takes another sip of his iced coffee. “You talk about things besides sex, don’t you? You definitely told him about your goldfish dying, at least. I mean, you told him before you even told me!”

“Yes I did, and he was appropriately sympathetic about Mustache’s passing, unlike some people,” you sniff. “Get over it already, won’t you?”

“Never,” Jimin replies, ignoring your pointed jab. “I’m sure you only told him because you knew you could get a sympathy sext out of it. How many dick pics did you get out of that night, anyway?”

“You’re gross,” you tell him, punching him in the arm. “Not to mention that’s exactly why Jay’s not boyfriend material. He’s perfectly happy with—whatever it is we’re doing. I can’t just ruin that by asking him to get dinner.” You frown, gnawing on your bottom lip. “I don’t want to make this into something that it’s not.”

Jimin hesitates. “Fine, okay. I guess I can understand that.”

“Yeah.”

There’s a pause, as the elevator makes a few more stops. You watch the numbers crawl higher, and know that you’ll soon have to part ways with your friend..

“Hey.” You nudge Jimin with your shoulder, just as the elevator doors close and you begin the ascent to his floor. “Wanna know something interesting?”

Jimin looks up from his phone, where he’s scrolling through Twitter. “Always.”

“My boss’ son is coming to the party tomorrow.”

Jimin’s eyebrows disappear into his ashy blond hair at your revelation. “Kyunghee’s son? Hoseok, or whatever?”

You chuckle. “The one and only. She’s found about a million ways to bring him up in conversation this past week. She thinks we’re a match made in heaven.”

“Wow.” Jimin releases a long breath. “I wonder what he’s like, then.”

You shrug, adjusting the strap of your work tote over your shoulder. “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

///

The morning of the party, you wake up to an empty refrigerator. Half stale cereal and the last dregs of milk from the carton become your breakfast, and you munch on that as you mull over the contents of your closet. You’re still in your pajamas, but you pull out your comfiest jeans and a sweater to change into after you finish eating. Then you turn to your collection of dresses, rifling through them and mentally debating the merits of each material and color.

You could go in one of two directions tonight. On the one hand, this is still a work party, and as such your attire should probably maintain a certain level of decorum. But on the other, you’re meeting Hoseok Jung for the first time tonight. You aren’t necessarily looking to start anything with the man, of course, but you do want to look good. With that in mind, you eventually settle on a deep red number that you pull out of the very back of your closet, made of a silky material that skims your curves and accentuates your best assets. Laying it on the bed, you begin your hunt for a pair of matching shoes. Twenty minutes of searching and another five of agonizing later, you step into the bathroom, intent on showering and getting on with the rest of your day.

Upon exiting the bathroom, you decide that tackling the state of your refrigerator takes top priority over your other weekend errands. Sitting down at the dining table, you take stock of what you have in your pantry, planning out your meals for the upcoming week and making a list of what you need to purchase in order to make them a reality. It’s just after one in the afternoon when you exit your apartment with a completed grocery list and your purse stuffed full of reusable canvas bags. The store is a short walk from where you live, and you decide to put in your earbuds as your feet navigate the familiar route. The temperature is surprisingly mild for winter, and the sun shines bright from its perch in the cloudless blue sky. It’s perfect weather for a walk, and the fresh air clears your mind and eases your heart.

At the grocery store, you forego the stack of baskets and instead grab a shopping cart. Weaving your way up and down the aisles, you check items off the list on your phone one by one. Eventually, you find yourself in the cereal section, grabbing a box of granola before turning to where your favorite cereal normally sits. It isn’t there, and you turn in a full circle, confused, until your gaze finally lands on the familiar box on the top shelf.

Great.

Sighing, you push up to your tiptoes, stretching your arm as far as it can reach. Your fingertips graze the shelf, but you can’t quite get a grip on the box itself. Glancing down, you scan the bottommost shelf and wonder if you can step on it to give yourself a boost.

“Need a hand?”

The voice comes from behind you, and a vague sense of familiarity sparks in your brain. Slowly, you turn around, and your entire body freezes when your gaze slides up to the speaker’s face.

“Jay.” The syllable escapes you in a near whisper. “H-hi.”

“Hey.”

Jay stands before you, looking like sin incarnate in a faded denim jacket, black sweatpants slung low on his hips, and not much else. At his throat, his silver necklace sparkles, the silver J pendant glinting beneath the fluorescent lights of the store, and you’re suddenly beyond grateful that you decided to put on a decent sweater before leaving.

“Here,” he says, stepping forward until he’s close enough that you can smell his cologne—sandalwood tinged with sweet citrus. “Let me help you with that.”

The sudden proximity has your breath hitching in your throat. Your heart thuds erratically against your ribs as he reaches around you, the denim flaps of his jacket gaping in a way that exposes even more of his bare chest. By the time he pulls back with your cereal box in hand, you feel almost faint, belatedly realizing that you’d been holding your breath.

“You wanted this, right?” Jay asks, and you aren’t sure if you’re imagining the innuendo underlying his words or the teasing inflection of the syllables.

“Y-yeah, that’s the one,” you manage, fighting to quell the uneven tempo of your heartbeat as you accept the box. “Thanks.”

“Happy to help,” he replies. Then he leans in, close enough that you can feel his warm breath fanning your cheek as he murmurs his next sentence into your ear. “Anything for you, princess. You know that.”

Heat floods across your cheeks. Your heart skips two full beats before taking off into a sprint, and it’s impossible to ignore the way your core begins to thrum, as if anticipating a repeat of that night you first met all those weeks ago. Almost instinctively, your eyes dart up to the ceiling where the security cameras are, and Jay follows the trajectory of your gaze with a low chuckle and a soft brush of your cheek with the pad of his thumb.

“Sorry, princess. As much as I’d love to get my hands on you, I’m kind of on a time crunch today.”

You can’t stop the wave of disappointment that washes over you, even if you’re in the exact same boat. “Rain check, then?”

“Rain check,” he agrees. Slowly, you reach up to touch the engraved silver pendant resting against his chest, rubbing it between your fingertips before tracing the curve of the J, and he catches your wandering fingers between his and presses a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

“You know how to reach me,” he murmurs with a mischievous wink. His gaze lingers even after he’s released your hand, and you clear your throat awkwardly before turning to deposit your cereal box into your shopping cart.

The two of you go your separate ways then, exchanging goodbyes. You finish the rest of your grocery shopping in a daze, idly going through the motions at checkout and letting muscle memory guide you back home. Your arms are aching by the time you step past the threshold of your apartment, and you heave your shopping bags up onto the kitchen counter with a relieved sigh before returning to the entryway to toe off your shoes. You throw together a sandwich as you unpack your groceries, taking a big bite as you walk back to your bedroom to look at the dress you’ve picked out. Pacing over to the closet, you double-check your shoe choice. Briefly, you debate whether or not to wear flats instead of heels.

There are still a few hours left before you have to start getting ready, so you take the last of your sandwich back to the kitchen and whip up a smoothie to go with it. You scroll through your phone as you eat, browsing through the latest news headlines and scrolling through your social media accounts. Just before six o’clock, as the sun starts setting beyond the horizon and casting long shadows across your living room, you start getting changed. You snap a photo in the mirror once you’re dressed, pulling up Jimin’s name in your phone and sending it to him.

[6:13pm] You: last chance to come tonight

Your phone buzzes with a response almost immediately.

[6:14pm] Jimin: nah. i’d hate to step on hoseok’s toes.

You laugh. Not so fast, you text back. We don’t even know anything about the guy yet. What if he’s boring? Or sexist?

[6:15pm] Jimin: if u think kyunghee raised a sexist you’re seriously deranged

[6:16pm] Jimin: now stop taking selfies and get your ass out the door! you’re gonna be late!!!!

///

Each year, the holiday party tends to be a little over the top, and this year is no exception. The company has bought out the entirety of a restaurant for the evening, and you glance around in amazement at the twinkling lights and lush evergreen boughs decorating the walls and strung up along the ceiling. An assortment of sparkling ornaments hangs from the massive tree in the far corner, interspersed between silver tinsel and more lights. Grabbing a champagne flute off a passing server’s tray, you head farther into the restaurant, skirting around tables draped in creamy linen and greeting your colleagues and friends.

“Is she alone?”

“Figures.”

The voices come from the direction of the open bar, and somehow, you just know that they’re talking about you. Lottie, Hyejin, and Sandra are clustered in the corner with glasses of wine in hand, casting glances around the restaurant and gossiping about anything and everything with a pulse. You’re sorely tempted to grab the nearest pitcher of water off a table and pour it over their heads, but you suppress the urge and instead head over with a saccharine smile. “So lovely to see you, {Name},” Lottie says as you approach.

“I love your dress,” Sandra adds. “Very slimming.”

“Thanks,” you reply, putting on your brightest, fakest smile. “Yours is great too. How are you and your husband enjoying the party so far?”

Sandra’s face sours, and you hide your smirk in your champagne flute. Maybe it’s petty to bring up her rocky relationship, but you’ve been subject to snide comments from Sandra and her friends for years now and it’s become increasingly hard for you to bite your tongue. A few tables away, you spot Sandra’s husband, Rodney, take an enormous gulp of his whiskey and wince as it burns down his throat.

“We’re all having a wonderful time, aren’t we, ladies?” Lottie cuts in when Sandra takes too long to answer. “Hyejin’s date is over there with Rodney, and my boyfriend is fetching himself a drink. You remember Dev, don’t you?”

You nod, even though it’s a lie. “Sure. Say hi to him for me.”

Lottie’s lips curve up into a smile, her head tilting to the side, and you’re suddenly reminded of a snake rearing its head back for the kill. “So, what about you? Have you brought someone tonight, or—?”

“Hi ladies!” Kyunghee materializes at your side, her lips painted a festive red shade to match her dress. She’s wearing the disingenuous smile that she reserves for the resident gossips of your office, and you try not to let your relief show on your face when Lottie’s attention refocuses on your manager.

“So good to see you, Kyunghee,” she simpers. “Have you been here long?”

“Not as long as you,” your manager replies, nodding at the near-empty wineglass in her hand. “I see we’re already making a dent in the wine supply, and you’re falling behind, {Name}. Why don’t we go remedy that, hmm?”

She doesn’t give you a chance to respond, grabbing your arm and leading you away. Kyunghee is surprisingly spry for a woman her age, and you follow after her with some difficulty as she marches through the throngs of conversing people, all the way to the line at the open bar.

“I’d like you to meet someone,” she says, gesturing at the man standing at the end of the line with his back to you. “{Name}, this is my son, Hoseok.”

The man turns around at the sound of his name, a warm, affable smile stretched across his face. “Hi, I’m H—” he begins, but he’s cut off by your sharp intake of breath. His eyes go wide, his smile fading as his mouth falls open, and you’re certain you’re wearing an even more dumbfounded expression. “It’s you,” he says, his voice hoarse.

“Wh-what… how…” You trail off, speechless. The words flounder and die in your throat as your brain struggles to process this development, and you practically feel the way the gears in your head churn to a stuttering halt.

Because this man standing before you, the one that Kyunghee has just introduced as her son, is none other than Jay. He looks completely and utterly devastating in a navy waistcoat and matching slacks, a green tie shaped like a Christmas tree knotted loosely around the white collar of his shirt. His dark hair is parted, his undercut exposed, and you can’t tear your gaze away from the loose strand that has fallen across his forehead.

“H-hi.”

Jay—Hoseok—swallows. “Hi.”

Kyunghee glances between the two of you, her brows furrowing. “I take it you two already know each other?”

Hoseok’s ears begin taking on a scarlet tinge, the color spreading to his cheeks as he struggles to find his vocabulary again. “I—yeah. Yeah, we’ve met.”

“Right. Do I even want to know how?” she asks dubiously, before shaking her head and huffing out a sigh. “No, forget I asked. I don’t want to know. I’ll just leave you two to… catch up.”

Waving goodbye, Kyunghee disappears back into the crowd of partygoers milling around. Hoseok turns back to you, sucking in a deep breath, and you fight the urge to stare down at your toes as his gaze roves across your face.

“I can’t believe this,” he says, breaking the silence that’s fallen between you at last. “My mom’s been talking about you for months, but I never imagined that it’d be you.”

“You’re telling me,” you reply, finally having recovered your voice. “Kyunghee brings you up all the time, but I never thought… I mean, we didn’t even know each other’s names, and now…” You shrug. “Here we both are.”

“It’s a pretty crazy coincidence, huh?”

“Definitely.”

A beat passes, and then two. You’re fully aware that you’re staring, but you don’t dare blink, afraid that he’ll disappear if you close your eyes. Of all the things that you thought might happen tonight, this particular meeting wasn’t even close to making the list. Never would you have thought that the man you only knew as Jay would turn out to be Kyunghee’s son. Never would you have connected Jay to the photographed little boy in yellow suspenders on Kyunghee’s desk, or realized that they were one and the same.

From behind you, someone loudly clears their throat. Another voice calls for you to get a move on, already, and both you and Hoseok belatedly realize that you are still standing in line for the open bar. Hoseok’s eyes go wide again, and you nearly tread on his toes when you both try to move forward. “After you,” he says with a chuckle, gesturing for you to go in front of him, and that’s enough to break the tension. You step ahead of him with a laugh, catching up to the line, and Hoseok doesn’t stray far as he follows your lead.

“So, what are you drinking?” he asks, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Vodka soda with a twist?”

“Actually, I think I’m going to stick with wine tonight,” you reply, peering at the bottles lined up on the counter. “What about you?”

“Hmm. Jack and coke, I think. Nothing else is really calling my name right now.”

Grabbing your drinks, the two of you begin searching for a place to sit. You spot Kyunghee at a table near the front, and she smiles knowingly and offers you a thumbs-up when she catches your eye. Eventually, you settle on a table near the Christmas tree, the lights glimmering off the glasses and reflecting off your knife as you pick it up to butter a slice of crusty bread from the basket in the center. Hoseok follows your lead, grabbing a piece for himself, and the two of you munch in silence for a few seconds before Hoseok breaks it.

“You know, my mom says you’re the perfect girl for me” he says with a dry little chuckle. “Think she’s right?”

“I don’t know,” you answer. “It’s funny, though—Kyunghee’s been telling me the same thing. She sings your praises all the time.”

Hoseok laughs and scratches the back of his neck. “Oh, jeez, that’s kind of embarrassing. I’m glad she’s saying good things, at least.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” you tell him, grinning. “She’s only shown us one photo album from your childhood.”

His face crumples. “Was it the Disneyland one?”

You nod, fighting back laughter, and watch as Hoseok groans and lets his forehead meet the linen-covered tabletop with a dull thunk.

“I don’t like rollercoasters,” he mumbles into the tablecloth, his voice muffled by the material. “They make me queasy.”

“Even now?” you ask, and he nods.

“Yep.”

The clinking of a fork against a wineglass—amplified and broadcast through an array of invisible speakers built into the restaurant’s walls—interrupts any further conversation. You twist in your seat to watch your company’s leadership give their opening remarks, listening as they congratulate everyone for a great year and wish you a happy holiday season. The servers begin going out with plates of food, and you thank them as they set yours down. Hoseok does the same before raising his glass in your direction, clearing his throat and offering you a crooked little smile.

“Here’s to second meetings.”

“Third, if you count the store earlier,” you correct, and he chuckles and nods in agreement before clinking his drink against yours.

You spend the entirety of dinner chatting with Hoseok, getting to know him beyond the few facts Kyunghee has mentioned and what little you’ve gleaned from texting him the last two months. He tells you all about his dance studio, Hope World, where he teaches both contemporary dance and the occasional Pilates class. You find out that in addition to rollercoasters, he also dislikes sour foods and raisins, but he loves mint chocolate and sweet and sour pork. He also has a very low tolerance for alcohol—something he tells you as he tilts the rest of his drink into his mouth. “Should I be worried?” you ask as he sets his glass back down, and he chuckles and shakes his head, sending the loose tendril of hair flopping across his forehead.

Dessert is served, and subsequently eaten. The music is turned up, and people slowly begin finding their way to the open space that serves as an impromptu dancefloor. Hoseok rises to his feet and extends a hand toward you, and you only hesitate for the briefest of seconds before accepting it. He leads you out amongst the other swaying couples, his hand finding its way to the curve of your waist, and you rest your hand on his shoulder as he begins guiding you in a slow, simple waltz.

“So?” Hoseok’s voice is a low murmur, soft and gentle against the shell of your ear. “What’s the verdict?”

You blink. “The verdict?”

Even without looking, you can tell that he’s smiling. You can hear it in the lilt of his voice, and imagine it in the curve of his lips. “About me,” he clarifies, carefully pulling back so you can spin in a circle beneath his outstretched arm. “About us. My mom will never let me hear the end of it if she turns out to be right, but I still wanna know. So what are you thinking?”

“Are you asking if I think we’re perfect for each other?” you ask, giggling. “I don’t know if I believe in all that, to be quite honest. Destiny and soulmates—I mean, doesn’t it seem a little too good to be true?”

Hoseok hums. “Maybe. But considering all that’s happened to us in the last couple of months, don’t you think there’s a chance that it's all more than simple coincidence?”

“Maybe,” you concede. “Still, I don’t know if I can give you a verdict just yet. We haven’t even gone on a date.”

“We did do things a little backwards,” Hoseok admits, tugging you close and winding his arm around your waist. “Let me make it up to you, then. Are you free tomorrow?”

“What if I am?” you challenge.

“Then, I’d like to take you out for breakfast,” he replies without missing a beat.

The prospect of a proper meal with Hoseok Jung does something funny to your insides. Still, something makes you hesitate, and you avert your gaze as you search for your next words. “I wasn’t expecting to end tonight with a date,” you admit slowly. “I honestly didn’t even think you were interested in… well, anything beyond sex, to be honest.”

Hoseok’s face creases into a frown, and you look up again when he murmurs your name. “I understand why you would think that,” he says. “Really, I do. But honestly? I had every intention of texting you and asking you out properly. I was going to play it cool and wait a few days, which was stupid in retrospect. And then you texted me first.”

“I texted y—” You trail off. “Oh, god.”

“It seemed like you’d been drinking,” Hoseok says with a shrug, and you press a finger to his lips before he can say anything more. You remember the night in question, and you remember the bottle of wine you’d consumed. And you definitely remember the photographs you’d sent of yourself, and the ones Hoseok had been kind enough to send in return.

“Wait, so you were going to ask me out? And then I… I sexted you?”

Hoseok nods, and you groan and bury your face into his chest.

“I can’t believe this,” you mutter, and you feel laughter rumble through his chest before a hand comes up to stroke along your back.

“Believe me, I’m not complaining,” he assures you. “But I’d still really like to take you out, so what do you say?”

His gaze doesn’t leave yours for a second as he awaits your answer, and your heart skips a beat when you look up to see the earnestness in his eyes and the hesitant smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Breakfast sounds wonderful,” you whisper, and the smile that blossoms on your companion’s face is nothing short of radiant.

“Good,” he says. “Great. Breakfast tomorrow, then. Now, can I kiss you?”

You’re already pushing up to your tiptoes, your fingers fisting in the soft hair at his nape. “God, yes.”

///

“Hey, you made it!”

You beam. “Hi.”

You and Hoseok are about to commence your first date, having just sat down at a cozy little café for breakfast. Hoseok has pulled your chair out in true gentlemanly fashion, and you can’t help but smile over your menu at the few lingering snowflakes that have yet to melt into his dark hair.

“So, here we are,” you remark. “Our fourth meeting.”

Hoseok’s lips stretch into his signature grin, breathtakingly bright and infectious. “And hopefully many more.”

You grin at him. “Yeah? Too bad this is breakfast, because I’d drink to that.”

He leans forward, his grin widening. “Next time,” he says as his hand finds its way around yours, his fingers slotting comfortably into the spaces between your own. “We can do dinner, maybe. Or I can cook for you. But for now, I’m just happy that we’re finally doing this.”

You give his hand a soft squeeze. “Me too.”

“Just promise me one thing?”

The sudden seriousness of his tone has your brow furrowing in concern. “Sure, of course,” you reassure. “What is it?”

He winces. “Please don’t tell my mom about all the dick pics.”

#hoseok #hoseok smut #hoseok x reader #bts smut #bts scenarios #hoseok scenarios #jhope #jung hoseok #bts #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts fic #kpop scenarios #hoseok x you #strangers to lovers!au #strangers to lovers #lia writes #gonna change that stupid summary if i can think of anything better LOL #my brain went all mushy on me idk what's happening

2K notes · View notes

multifandomwritings · 4 years ago

Text

How the slashers would react to their S/O painting their nails

So sorry again for how slow I am these days! I promise I’m not ignoring anyone or haven’t forgotten! (also my confidence in my writing has once again plummeted so aslfkdj) I hope you all like this ^^ (if anyone has any character suggestions lemme know! Like horror characters and slashers. However if I end up adding more I might have to start splitting these up a bit!)

Thomas:

- Thomas might be hesitant at first, but the second you took his burly hand into your own, he'd melt

- You would get complete creative control — he wouldn't mind what colors you chose, and any worries of being teased by his family would disappear as he watched how eager you were

- Seeing you so fixated on his hands would make him blush beneath his mask, though he would appreciate the opportunity to freely stare at you as you worked

- He'd smile to himself every time he looked at them, and would happily let you do it again (No one, even Hoyt, dares to tease him about anything relating to you after a certain point, knowing it’s off limits! So he’ll happily show them off. Luda Mae thinks it’s precious, but is also kind of salty that you haven’t offered to do hers lol)

Brahms:

- Brahms would take any affection and attention he could get, so the second you even suggested it he'd just sit down and put his hands out for you

- You wouldn't be able to stop smiling at how seriously he took it. He'd have a surprisingly good eye for color combinations, handing you the colors he liked and making you blush with how he focused on you

- He'd want to polish yours too: matching colors, of course (when you noticed this, you'd smile even wider, which would not go unnoticed by Brahms, who would smile in self satisfaction)

- This would probably become a regular thing. He’d adore anything like that, that made him feel close to you. Of course you have to match though! Or at the very least, coordinate 👉👈

Michael:

- Michael wouldn't really know how to react to you asking about it, to be honest. He wouldn't really mind, he'd just be kind of iffy about it

- It would probably take him a while to warm up to this (or pretty much anything) but he ~might~ allow it, since it's you

- If you reach for anything pastel or colorful he'd just take your hand to stop you and shake his head, causing you to have to hold back a laugh

- He wouldn't admit it, but he'd actually like how it looked. He'd forget about it, and would think of you every time he noticed them. He isn't really soft but he would be for you

Jason:

- You’d be going through your nail polishes when you’d gesture for him to come over and sit, offering to paint his nails

- He agrees of course! Like he’s gonna refuse anything you wanna do for him like that!...Although you’ll have to excuse his slightly crusty hands

- He always admires your own nail polish, thinking the colors are so pretty and cute. If you offer to let him pick out the colors he’ll just shake his head, knowing you’ll choose something nice

You, reaching your hand to hold his while you polish: Okay, gimme your hand

Him, ~misunderstanding~: *takes your hand as if to hold it*

You: 🥺🥺🥺

(A bonus thought that you might disagree with: if you’d been in a relationship with Jason for a while, he’d begin to pick up on his own cuteness. Or at least, what you think is cute. And he’d take advantage of it, if only to make you smile. Also, he secretly loves the effect he has on you alsdkfj)

Bubba:

- Bubba would love this. He'd carefully watch and learn, already planning on doing yours too

- If you hold his hand while you do it his stomach would be full of butterflies, cheeks all pink beneath his mask. He adores when you’re soft with him like that

- He'd probably chip them up really quickly, to his own dismay. When he would notice, he'd want them done again asap, as they'd remind him of you

- You would melt when he did yours. He hold your hand close to his face, focusing intently and going slowly to make sure it was perfect

Chop Top:

- It would probably be his idea to be honest. He'd see you doing your nails and would excitedly pester you about it until you did his, too

- You end up getting ~playfully~ annoyed, as he'd keep pulling his hands away to look and would keep changing his mind on what colors to use

- Eventually you just snatch his hand and hold it still so you can finish. He'd stop whatever he was saying with a nervous laugh, getting surprisingly flustered at you being like that with him

- He'd be another that would paint yours, too, trying his best to pick colors that would suit you. He'd adore his, and would want to impress you by doing his best!

Nubbins:

- Nubbins would see you doing your own nails and wouldn’t even give you the opportunity to offer to do his. He’d just pick up a random color and would start doing it himself (badly)

- You don’t really notice at first but after a while you glance up and chuckle at what a sloppy job he’s done, prompting him to smile at you so sweetly that you don’t even say anything about it

- Instead, you just gesture for him to hand it over, which he happily does. You can’t help but smile at how delicately he drapes his hands into your own, allowing you to fix his mistakes and finish it

- Once you’re done he’ll continue holding your hand, too. Good luck getting unlatched for a bit. Nubbins will use any excuse he can to be close to you (tbh he doesn’t need an excuse but if he has one he’ll use it)

Beetlejuice:

- Beetlejuice would probably tease you for suggesting it, despite the fact that he'd be choosing his colors as he did

- Spooky colors only, of course! Neon purple, black, green, things like that. He'd love it, tbh

- He'd be flirting with you the entire time, enjoying the close proximity as he could watch your face flush as he spoke

- Despite his teasing, he'd actually enjoy things like that a lot. He'd love that you wanted to do things like that for him, feeling all special and cared for

Candyman:

- Daniel would probably seem a little indifferent to it at first, although he would enjoy seeing you dote over him like that

- He'd smile to himself as he watched you carefully pick colors, refraining from suggesting anything because he'd want to see what you thought would suit him

- He makes you melt the whole time, his hand gently draped over yours as you try to ignore his intense gaze, gnawing at your lip all the while

- He would unintentionally show them off *a lot*, showing off his hand way more than he normally would. You'd have to hold back smiles as you noticed, finding it so sweet

Bo:

- Sort of like Beetlejuice in that he'd tease you and act playfully annoyed like, "You want to paint my nails? Pfft, I don't know..." (he says, while sitting down and stretching his hands across the table for you)

- Isn't really paying attention (or so he'd have you think), just looking around or closing his eyes while you polished away, occasionally glancing over to see what you were up to when he thought you weren't looking

- If Bo liked you, he'd pretty much go with anything tbh. You could paint his nails the softest, brightest colors and he wouldn't even really have the heart to gripe about it, seeing you all smiley over it

- Will be all smiley himself anytime he looks at them, but if someone else notices (besides you) he'll shoot them a death glare

Vincent:

- You wanna paint his nails? Okay! He has no hesitation whatsoever and will ask no questions — if you want to, you can

- You’re so cute to him and he loves your attention, anything you want to do like that he’ll allow. If you want to do his nails, brush/play with his hair, or anything like that, you can! In fact, please do 🥺

- Will be smiling the whole time behind his mask, happily suggesting colors if you ask. He’ll end up with cute and sparkly rainbow nails because you both keep finding different colors you like

- He would do yours, too. All the colors you couldn’t fit on his hands will go on yours! You both have equally colorful nails that will be teased by Bo and Lester, who are both secretly envious of Vincent (plz do their nails too)

Lester:

- When you asked if you could polish his nails, he'd immediately light up, loving the idea of it but quickly getting shy

- He'd disappear for a second so he could go scrub his hands and make them as clean and pretty as possible for you

- He'd be kinda nervous?? His eyes would be flickering back and forth between your face and his hands, smiling as he watched you

- Little things like this would make his heart flutter endlessly, and he'd try so hard to keep them all tidy and unchipped. (This would result in him being ridiculously delicate with everything he touched) He'd love them no matter what colors you chose!

Graverobber:

- Graverobber has some clammy, crusty hands, (I mean, he hangs out in dumpsters) so beware. Still, if you offer to paint his nails, he’ll just lazily offer up his hands without a second thought

- Watches you the whole time with a satisfied smile. Anytime you glance up and catch him, he’ll give you a look that somehow manages to be both sheepish and smug, wiggling his eyebrow to make you laugh

- He'd smile every time he looked at them, thinking of you. You’d match them to the streaks in his hair which makes him just :o !! Will show them off a lot too

- He'd wear them until they were completely chipped up (which wouldn’t take long), patiently hoping you'd offer to do them again

Luigi:

- Luigi would initially agree with no complaints, but chances are you’ll only get a few nails done before he gets impatient

- He feels kind of bad about it later, though, seeing them unfinished and smiling a bit as they reminded him of you. If he’s in a grouchy mood he’ll ease up right away when he sees them

- He’ll let you finish later, though not without some amount of awkwardness, as he’d be embarrassed to bring it back up

- Of course, you’re happy to do it though! You snatch his hands right up and get to work, choosing colors such as black, red and white. He’d smile the whole time he watched you. His expression would change freakishly fast if someone interrupted, though

Pavi:

- He probably paints his nails anyways, but he’d always be happy to be doted over by you, so of course he’ll accept your offer!

- If you offer while he’s already wearing nail polish he’ll quickly run off and remove it so you won’t change your mind

- Compliments you the whole time, even if you’re just messing around. You end up giggling the whole time at how extra he is, calling you an artist and talented and actually making you blush quite a bit with how sincere he was about it

- Shows his nails off endlessly, staring at them constantly and making it a point to be as showy with his hands as possible. The moment they chip he’ll be so over-the-top dramatic, only feeling better once you’ve redone them (you will forever be Pavi’s manicurist from then on, sigh)

Billy Lenz:

- Probably confused by it, but he'd be happy to give it a try. He'd watch you intently the entire time, saying very little

- ...Which would result in you getting nervous, low-key trying to rush through it and accidentally messing one or two up (Cue Billy looking at you like smh, Y/N, smh...)

- He’s only messing though, he genuinely couldn’t care less about it really. You could be painting his whole finger and he doesn’t even mind because he’s more focused on you and the fact that you’re doing something like that for him

- He is unused to being treated like this so he never really knows how to react. Any kind of looking after will always be met with some amount of nervousness, though he adores it. Will retreat to the attic afterwards and just stare at his nails like 🥺 (Even the messy ones! Especially the messy ones tbh)

Asa Emory (The Collector):

- He'd agree to you doing his nails so quickly that you'd actually be shocked, not expecting compliance at all. He'd offer up his hands so willingly that your jaw would almost hit the floor

- Nothing flashy! He just wants tidy, pretty nails. He's very sure about what he wants, which would almost make you laugh, as he'd be quite assertive about it

- Needless to say, he'd stare at you intently the whole time, lips twisted into a small but wicked smile as he noticed your cheeks flushing and eyes refusing to meet his

- He'll do yours too, of course. You have to bite your lip the whole time to keep yourself from smiling because he’s so meticulous. He’ll carefully choose a color, eyeing you for approval before pulling your hand close to his face, seriously and slowly polishing each nail

Otis Driftwood:

- Otis will absent-mindedly swat your hand away when you try to do his nails. However, when he glanced over to see you frowning at his grouchiness, he’ll feel bad and will just roll his eyes as he gives up his hands

- Will complain the whole time though. It smells! It’s cold! Stop squeezing my hand! (Tbh he loves these kinds of gestures, but he’s guarded, to put it simply, so he doesn’t know how to deal with it. So, he’ll gripe, all while staring at you lovingly when you aren’t looking)

- You end up using simple colors such as black and white, and he would end up liking it much better than he thought he would. In fact, he’d want you to do it again in the future, but would be too embarrassed about his complaining to ask

- You’re going to have to give the whole family manicures now too though, especially Baby (honestly probably pedicures too? They’d get greedy lol)

1K notes · View notes

marvelous-harry · 3 years ago

Note

Yeah I have a concept well it’s your concept that you posted. The daddy Harry concept with y/n wearing protective headphones at one of his concerts. It was so cute, please please do something for it 😭🥺🥺

A/N: I had totally forgotten about this!! God, Harry would/is so protective of her! Love that for all of us.

It was mesmerizing watching Harry perform, I could barely look away from him as he pranced around on stage and sang his heart out. He was dressed in a baby blue suit and had picked out my outfit to match his. Dressed in a white t-shirt with thin navy stripes and baby blue short overalls that ended just above my knees.

Taking off the headphones, I scratched at my ears and let the headphones hang over my hand as I enjoyed the loud crowd and the feeling of my ears not being tightly clamped by the stupid noise-canceling headphones Harry always made me wear. They were so chunky and tight and they were not cute at all.

“I’m going to get a drink, do you want anything?” Harry’s assistant asked me as he tugged on my arm.

“An orange soda would be nice if they have it. I can come with though,” I said and turned to follow him.

“No, it’s okay. You stay and watch, I’ll just be a second,” he smiled and walked off. I watched him leave to make sure he got out okay. I heard Harry clear his throat overly dramatically into the microphone and turned my attention back to him, and was surprised when he was looking right at me.

“They work better over your ears,” Harry said as he pretended to put headphones over his ears while giving me a pointed look.

Blushing, I quickly put them on and ignored all the looks and ‘awwws’ around me.

“Thank you,” Harry said into the microphone before turning his attention back out at the crowd.

I could feel my whole body being warm from all the attention and even though it was a little embarrassing that Harry would call me out during a show, it was also very sweet and made me all tingly and nice inside in a way only Daddy could make me feel.

For the rest of the show it was hard to focus on anything else but the way Harry had called me out, especially as he kept glancing over to make sure I was keeping the headphones on.

It was almost an hour after the show was over before we had a moment alone.

“Why did you take them off?” Harry asked as he changed out of his suit.

I was very openly staring at him as he got undressed and was swinging my legs as I sat on the bathroom counter. “They’re so tight and not cute at all, Daddy!” I whined and pouted. “I don’t see why I have to wear them, no one else has to. Just stupid babies and I’m not a baby!” I complained.

Harry chuckled and smiled as he came over kissed my forehead. “I thought you were my baby?” he asked as he poked my bottom lip that was sticking out in a pout.

I shook my head and tried to bite at his finger. “M’not,” I huffed and crossed my arms over my chest.

Harry gasped and clutched his chest before pretending like he was going to fall.

I couldn’t help but laugh quietly and I smiled as he came back over and put his hands on either side of me. “You know I just want you to be safe right? They protect your hearing and your ears more than you think. I don’t want you getting hurt,” Harry said seriously.

“I know, Daddy. Thank you for looking after me,” I said as I blushed.

“You’re welcome,” -

And so what if Harry got several pairs of headphones custom painted in several colors so they could match more easily with outfits so you could feel extra cute... He can afford it, and not wearing headphones is not an option.

#harry styles #harry styles blurbs #harry styles blurb #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagines #daddy dom!harry #dom!harry #harry styles smut

326 notes · View notes

spicysoftsweet · 4 years ago

Text

A Thorn In The Side - Gojo x Reader

Summary: Infatuation enduring from high school is more of a problem than you or he think (~3.4k words).

Warnings: fem pronouns, fem!reader, noncon, kidnapping, yandere, wlw mention, gojo is a pos

A/N: Part of @suedebunn‘s Hanahaki collab!

When the strongest jujutsu sorcerer to have ever lived wakes up in the early am with the sensation of thorns scratching his throat and fullness in his stomach, he’s baffled.

Even more so when he doubles over in bed to cough profusely to the point of near emesis, shocking for a man who rarely gets sick. He stares blankly at a pillow covered in droplets of flecks of red, and his eyes widen with trepidation, until he realizes those large drops strewn across his bed come from flowers rather than blood.

He must be dreaming, Gojo Satoru tells himself, but the satiny feel of the scarlet petals between his fingertips is very real.

Or perhaps a curse.

“So you expect me to diagnose you over the phone?”

Shoko pulled a drag of her cigarette as though for dramatic effect, blowing it out with a sigh, but continued to listen. She had to be up early anyway and ignoring Gojo would only make him more annoying in her experience.

“So what are your symptoms again?” she asked.

“Apparently my insides are trying to match my beautiful outsides~” he sang.

Shoko rolled her eyes, and as though he could see her, Gojo laughed loudly.

“In all seriousness, I’m turning into a garden. Coughing up flowers apparently.”

“Coughing up flowers, huh?” She leaned a little further against her balcony, her eyes setting on the early morning sunrise she could view from her high rise apartment. “Do you think it’s some type of curse?”

“It’s… different,” he replied, somewhat noncommittally. “I don’t think it’s cursed energy, actually.”

This was unexpected.

“What else do you feel?”

“Uneasy…”

It was Shoko’s turn to laugh. An interesting choice of words coming from him.

“Any ideas?” Gojo insisted.

“I mean, it could be some kind of undetectable curse. I’d know if I got to see you… How does your heart feel when you cough up the flowers?”

“It races.”

“Your mind?”

“Also races… lightheaded.”

“Any thoughts?”

“None.”

“As expected.” she teased, laughing again until she realized that for once, Gojo was silent on the other end of the phone. She scratched her head, then ran her fingers through her fingertips.

“Come in at 2pm today, okay? Don’t be late.”

---

“Well, you’re right,” Shoko stated, stepping back from the examination table, and crossing her arms as she set herself down on a stool to formulate her assessment.

Her friend, already graced with the palest of color palettes, did actually look ill, dark circles prominent enough to match hers marring his porcelain skin. He sat, legs spread apart, and leaning onto the weight of his hands besides him, raising an eyebrow quizzically..

“It’s not cursed energy, alright,” she said, with a sigh. She stretched out her hand.

“You brought the sample, right?”

Gojo, uncharacteristically a bit listless, tossed her the bag of vomited petals from this morning, covered in now dry saliva and other fluids. Not batting an eyelash, Shoko slipped on a pair of gloves and felt inside the bag, petals crumbling at her fingertips.

Definitely not cursed energy. She placed the bag on a disorganized counter behind her, making a mental note of scrutinizing it further under a microscope.

“Ideas?” Gojo asked after he’d decided that the time he’d given her to think was enough. It turned out the idea of being sick irritated him more than he expected.

The very idea of being vulnerable made him slightly nauseous.

Shoko let out a chuckle that sounded more nervous than she had intended.

“My only other thought is Hanahaki disease.”

“Hanahaki?” Gojo repeated.

“Yeah,” she stated. Crossing her legs, she relaxed into her stool further as she watched the young man carefully. “Who’s the unlucky one?”

“You mean?”

“Who’s the unfortunate soul you’re in love with?” She asked again, waiting for his response. The truth was that she was quite shocked at the idea of Gojo being afflicted with Hanahaki, that he of all people could have such a pure, destructive form of love given his track history.

She’d known him long enough to know that his body count was near ridiculous.

He tilted his head, then burst into laughter.

“Myself, duh.”

“Well, auto-Hanahaki isn’t a thing, but I suppose if it was, you’d be the one to be afflicted with it.”

She decided not to press further. “Whoever it is, I’d recommend you settle your feelings as soon as possible,” she added. “People don’t usually die from this but you look surprisingly like shit so I’d be careful.”

Gojo ran a hand through his hair, hopping off the table and pulling back on his shirt.

Settling his feelings may be more complicated than either of the two of them expected.

---

You were in the middle of your drive home when Shoko’s name finally flashed on your dashboard. Grinning, you picked up on the car speaker, mischief in your voice.

“It’s 7:03 and you promised me you’d call at 7 sharp, babe. What do you have to say for yourself?”

“You’re going to hold 3 minutes against me?” Her sultry voice filled your ears as you made the last turn between the grocery store and your apartment, and you hoped she’d be inside your home waiting for you so that you could actually hold something tangible against her.

“I did say I wasn’t going to tolerate you being late for anything anymore, didn’t I?” You teased.

“Bold declaration for someone who isn’t even home yet,” Shoko retorted.

In minutes, you were walking through the door, arms charged with bags full of groceries for dinner you’d planned to cook together. Shoko greeted you with a kiss on the forehead as you placed them on the counter.

“Did you miss me?”

You did, but you stuck out your tongue at her instead. Her hand intertwined with yours briefly before you separated to unpack items for dinner.

“I promise I’ll be less busy,” she offered as the two of you worked in tandem. Your stomach was already growling, so the sooner you had food on the table, the better.

“It’s no problem,” you replied, and you meant it only half-heartedly. It’s true she was less busy than a regular civilian doctor, but it seemed recently that her clinic was getting overrun with more and more curse victims. Things had been bad recently in the world, you figured.

You were happy to step back from the world of sorcery, but small reminders like these persisted.

“Did you still manage to fit Gojo in today?”

She had complained earlier today that Gojo always managed to make a bad day worse.

“Mmm,” is what she offered over the sound of chopping vegetables. You understood that she couldn’t say more, on top of the fact that any discussion of Gojo was already a sore subject. It didn’t have to be, and it shouldn’t have been, but this was what it was.

“Hope he’s okay,” you offered, as you turned on the stove.

“He’ll be fine,” she replied, her voice now quieter than usual.

---

The first and last time Gojo fell in love was in the spring of his third year, he suddenly recalled in the middle of a tryst, as an upsettingly subpar blowjob allowed his mind to wander. The young woman whose gags sounded almost theatrical when compared to the amount of pleasure he was actually receiving was starting to get on his nerves, but instead he took matters in his own hands, wrapping her long ponytail around his wrist before guiding the back of her head so she took him deeper.

If she was gonna choke, she should commit to it.

He’d fallen in love with you at first sight. It was a strange feeling for him to immediately be enamored with someone upon first glance instead, having always been the recipient of many an awe-filled or fawning look.

You were a transfer from the sister school, already a rare occurrence, and what was even rarer was the fact that you both had little affinity to jujutsu and little interest in getting better. One could wonder why you even showed up in the first place, much less why you’d moved from one school to the other.

You’d quit as expected just before graduation, but not before you caught his eye.

“You’re pretty shitty at this,” he’d remarked, attempting to win you over with humor when he’d been assigned to you for both orientation and possible tutoring. “Of course, you can always ask me for help,” he added, flashing pearly whites at you.

He was the opposite of successful in wooing you.

“I suppose since this comes easy to you, this is just funny, right?” You’d quipped.

Your words cut more than both you and he anticipated, but it didn’t exactly matter. You were not interested in him, the way he was interested in you.

But Shoko was different.

You became fast friends and upon your departure from the technical college, you’d remained in contact despite withdrawing from everyone else related to magic.

Even if Gojo tried many times to either bring you back to this world you’d left behind or be part of your new one, you’d rebuffed him every time. Harshly.

“I don’t know why you expect everyone to worship you,” was the last thing you’d said to him. “I’ve already made it clear that I don’t want to be part of this life,” you’d insisted. “Why would I change my mind just because you asked me to?”

You were right.

And yet you loved Shoko.

The young woman whose name he’d forgotten’s face was now pressed against his pubic bone and she now began to squirm, slapping and scratching at him like some kind of trapped animal as she struggled to breathe, reminding him that he’d daydreamed for too long.

“Sorry,” he offered, as he released his grip, leaving her to sputter and choke. Looking at her, knowing that she was not you suddenly made him want to choke himself, to bring forth that impromptu garden of unrequited feelings.

He patted her on the back gingerly, and once it looked like she’d restabilized, pulled her in for another kiss.

If only her lips tasted like yours.

---

Shoko’s hand glided against the curve of your hips, taking in the image of you sleeping softly on your side, facing her. She dipped down to kiss your nose; it was the only time the fact that she had such an issue with sleep benefited her, this ability to almost always wake up before you.

You looked incredibly peaceful while sleeping, and she had to admit this angelic view of you was even better than your features twisted in a pleasured mewl (not that it wasn’t a close battle).

There was a nagging concern in the pit of her stomach, however.

Gojo suffering from unrequited love could be a problem, if the object of his affections did happen to be you. But it had been years ago that he’d pursued you unsuccessfully, why present now?

Why present to her office of all people? Gojo could be inconsiderate, but not to this extent.

But what if he didn’t know that this was what he was feeling? Suppressed feelings taking root and morphing themselves into the tangible he couldn’t ignore?

She sat up, resting her back against the backboard, the lack of a cigarette between her lips being palliated with the gnaw of her thumbnail.

It couldn’t be. Not you.

Please, not you.

---

“Hey, how are you feeling?” Shoko checked in about a week later.

Gojo didn’t share that he’d spent the entire morning in a coughing fit of petals, now definitely streaked with blood, and the entire last night vomiting enough flowers into the toilet that it had overflowed.

He didn’t comment on the entire scarlet sage plants with large green leaves that threatened to sprout from every orifice, not just his throat, but his ears and nostrils, possibly from behind his eyes.

He didn’t know what was next, only that it was getting worse.

The constant fire in the pit of his stomach, the shivers, the chills, the incessant flash of you running through his mind, your name moaned in the darkness, his body drenched in sweat.

The fact that he knew it was because he loves you and cannot find an alternative for you.

The fact that he must have you, and only you.

“Has it gotten better or worse?” Shoko asked.

“I’m fine,” Gojo reassured her, masking the exhaustion in his voice, and she made the mistake of believing him.

---

You awoke in darkness with an icy cold searing into your skin.

It took you a moment to let your eyes adjust to the light and for your body to resume the motor control it had briefly relinquished in sleep before you could reorient yourself. You were laying on ground of some sort, maybe hardwood which implied that you were in some kind of building.

Your head throbbed viciously as you shifted slowly to a sitting position and you almost expected there to be blood as you ran your hands over the back of your head, checking for injury. But there was nothing, just the normal feel of your hair, and the steady thump of your temples in time with your pounding heart.

Looking around, your eyes soon fixed to the low light, not actual darkness to center on a figure in the center of the room.

You let out a gasp of surprise.

Gojo.

Not only had it been a while and he was the last person you expected to see, he looked stranger than he ever had.

He sat perched on a chair backwards, chin leaning on the top of the backrest. His head was tilted, and he watched you warily but fixedly through eyes that looked sunken into their orbits. Their clear blue was still sharp in the darkness.

His skin had taken on an almost ghostly cast to match his hair, and he was thinner than you remembered as though he had been slowly withering away since the last time you saw him. That was ages ago.

Your limbs froze in anticipation. You didn’t have to be a genius to recognize that whatever was happening or was about to happen was bad.

“Why did you bring me here?”

He stared at you blankly for a moment, unmoving. If he weren’t so extraordinarily fatigued, he would have sat up straighter in his chair and offered you a smile. You were still as pretty as the day he first laid eyes on you, after all. What a welcome sight.

“I guess I missed you,” he responded instead, quietly.

Your teeth gritted as you flared up in indignation.

“Excuse me?”

He cut you off with a loud, exasperated sigh, mustering the little bit of energy he had left to run a hand through his hair.

“Listen, I thought I’d forgotten myself, but it turns out that I’m being betrayed by my own body.”

As though to add effect, a coughing fit began just at the end of his sentence, and you watched as he spat flowers into the palm of his hand, lowering them for you to see.

“And it seems like you’re the cause of this.”

Your eyes widened as you took in the sight of bloody petals falling through his fingertips and hitting the ground.

He was completely out of his mind.

“I…,” you shakily got yourself up to your feet, not letting your gaze leave Gojo for a second. He didn’t get out of the chair, but he did shift so that he leaned back in the seat, a wicked smile on his face.

“You...?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” You spat. “Where the hell am I and how did I get here?”

He finally did get up, although it was done in a dramatic, strained movement. He really had lost weight, you noticed, picking up the flash of pale wrists before he shoved his hands in his pocket.

“I know it sounds crazy but apparently, according to your girlfriend, I’m suffering from lovesickness.”

He bared more of his teeth now, looking more like a grimace than a grin by this time. “I didn’t believe it either, but then I started seeing you in my mind every single waking moment.”

In the split second it took for you to blink, he had crossed the distance between you, so that he was now in your personal space, the palm of his hand inappropriately caressing your face, as tender as you’d expect from Shoko.

And you immediately jumped back and backhanded him as hard as you could.

The crack of your hand was loud and exaggerated, reverberating in the room. For a moment, you froze in shock, surprised the slap had actually landed, before shaking out your now burning hand and following up with a hiss.

“Don’t you fucking touch me.”

Gojo’s icy blue eyes glint, demonic in their delight.

“That’s the feisty bitch I remember.”

---

It was nearing 24 hours since you’d failed to reply to Shoko’s text and the normally collected woman was terribly anxious.

She’d stayed at work late, and still, not a single message from you.

The nagging feeling in the back of her mind returned.

What if it were you?

Gojo couldn’t be that insane, could he?

When she entered your home to find traces of red salvia scattered throughout your home, it only confirmed her fears.

---

“I don’t want to do this either. I mean it.”

It was hard to believe him when he seemed to savor every brush of the lips as he trailed kisses along your inner thighs, spread open with the force of his hands. Gojo had always been deceptively strong, even now, when it looked like he was wilting just as much as the flowers he coughed up.

Your wrists were bound to a fixed point at the head of a foreign bed, and your ankles to the bedposts anteriorly to prevent you from fighting. Not that you would have been able to fight back anyway, but the severe fatigue permeating his very bones made him less willing to risk anything.

When his lips made it to your center to circle your clit, you writhed in disgust, forcing back the sighs of pleasure that would inevitably ensure.

“Y-you can’t - ah - make me love you…”

Gojo paused the swishing of his tongue to give you a look that reeked enough of apathy that it was almost startling.

“I’m aware, but there’s no harm in trying.”

---

“Where the fuck is she?”

Satoru had the ostentatiousness within him to receive the phone call on speaker, so that you could hear Shoko beg to find out your whereabouts.

“She’s with me,” he replied, calmly to her, holding the phone in one hand and pumping fingers in and out of your slippery cunt with the other.

By this time, Gojo had gotten tired of your expletives which no longer retained the initial cute charm, so your screams for help were muffled by a gag over your own wet panties shoved into your mouth.

He’d been at this for hours.

There was a pause on the phone from Shoko’s end that sounded like something crashing to the ground, maybe a plate breaking.

Her tone changed immediately.

“P-please don’t hurt her.”

“I’m not.”

He glanced at you who glared back at him with reddened eyes and tear-stained cheeks. You looked even prettier when you were so totally helpless.

“I would never,” he added.

The pump of his fingers slowed but did not stop.

“This won’t fix you,” Shoko warned, almost in a low protective hiss, her own voice breaking. “This won’t fix anything, you bastard.”

He cut off the phone abruptly, and let out a sigh before shifting his attention back to you.

“Where were we?”

---

Maybe if I pretend, he’ll stop?

Or will he continue? Will I just affirm that he won?

His thrusts were relentless, as was the constant tugging at your hair, the teeth sinking into every inch of your skin, the moans and groans whispered into your ears or your bosom.

A violation in every sense of the word.

You were running out of tears.

The fact that it’s pointless, you and he both know it. Your true love knows it, that this is just an excuse to get back at you. For what? Rejection?

He would die anyway. You would never return his feelings, if there even truly were any.

He continued to rut into you, and flowers started to stain every inch of your bodies, covering them in a deep scarlet.

Red. Red. Red.

Blood. Rage. Power. Passion.

You probably didn’t need the restraints anymore. You had no fight left in you.

Just the satisfaction, however small, that regardless of what he did to you, he would still eventually succumb to nature and perish in a bed of putrid efflorescence.

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #collab fic #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo smut #shoko x reader #tw noncon #mae.writing

503 notes · View notes

jjkyaoi · 4 years ago

Text

*SLAMS HANDS ON TABLE* FOUND FAMILY

• it’d been a couple days after dream had been imprisoned that puffy & tommy spoke? tommy had been walking to the prison w/ sam to visit dream for the second time, when puffy had ran up & decided she’d want to tag along. it was half because she wanted to see her son again—was he even her son anymore?—but it was mostly because she didn’t want tommy to go alone; she didn’t know tommys history w/ dream, but she didn’t trust dream alone w/ him, even if he used to be her duckling.

TOMMY, walking by sam’s side: so, how’s dream been holding up in prison?

SAM; he’s been doing fine —

PUFFY, running at them at full speed; I WOULD LIKE TO COME WITH—

• and ever since then, it’s been a routine for them to both visit dream in the prison. it’d been sort of awkward at first, but eventually the two of them just got into the habit of goofing around whenever they entered the prison; they wouldn’t take anything seriously & most of the time they’d spend in there would just be tormenting sam and seeing how loud they could yell in the prison so their voice would echo.

PUFFY: hey, tommy. hey—hey tommy, look

TOMMY: what?

PUFFY, copying sam’s stance & scowling: i’m sam and i’m a big angry prison warden look at me snarl grrrr

SAM; that Isn’t funny—

• eventually puffy just got into the habit of following sam & tommy around wherever they went. wherever they’d go or whatever they’d do she’d always be trailing behind.

• tommy doesn’t know this, but whenever he’s talking w/ anybody else he’s always got puffy & sam standing behind him threateningly. he could be conversing w/ literally anyone, & regardless if they’re a threat puffy & sam would just be behind him holding a giant sledgehammer.

TOMMY, talking to anyone: yeah, and then i said—

PUFFY & SAM, directly behind him: :]

• whenever tommy doesn’t feel like walking anymore, he’d always hop onto sam’s back. at first when he tried to do it they both crumbled to the ground, but eventually it’s just something they both knew how to do by days of practice, & it’s eventually something they both did randomly. if tommy didn’t want to be in a situation, sam would appear and he’d pick tommy up & he’d carry him away; if tommy was tired, he’d pick him up and carry him away, if tommy was angry, he’d pick him up & he’d carry him away.

• puffy got into the habit of training him, as well. he’d always been awed at the way she could fight, & she eventually decided that she’d just go ahead and train the kid if he was so curious. so, in the days where he wasn’t busy w/ hotelinnit, she’d just be training him. he wasn’t very good at most things, & he’d constantly be falling over his ass, but whenever he got frustrated she’d always let him win just to boost his ego.

TOMMY: i cant understand why i’m not winning, it’s not—it shouldn’t be that hard???

PUFFY, immediately collapsing on the ground; ah, you’ve defeated me.

TOMMY: wh..

TOMMY: i didn’t even hit you??

PUFFY: i’m dead. pray for me.

• eret also joins their little squad, even if it’s later on. they immediately take up the role of the elder sibling in tommys life, when they aren’t busy w/ their own things. tommy’s favorite thing to do w/ them is make little paper crowns & put them on his head, exclaiming that ‘they match!’ eret’s heart always melts whenever he sees that.

TOMMY, with a paper crown on his head; look, eret, now we’re both kings!

ERET, on the verge of tears: mhm :]

• sam & puffy both don’t like phil. they dont know much about tommy’s relationship w/ him, but they’ve noticed the way tommy’s face always seems to dim whenever he’s talking about him, and the way he doesn’t really speak to him as if he’s his dad? so they’ve both got into this silent agreement that they don’t want phil & tommy to interact, for the betterment of tommy. aka they’re both c!phil anti’s

TOMMY: puffy?

PUFFY: yeah?

TOMMY: do you think—,,... do you think ranboo’s better than me? i mean, do you think he’s nicer than me?

PUFFY: ...

SAM: where’s this coming from?

TOMMY: i don’t—i don’t know. i mean, phil & techno seem to like him a lot, and he’s living with them now, so i assume that he’s— i assume that he’s better than me?

TOMMY: i mean it isn’t like i care, because i don’t. and like i’m fine that he’s happy— i’m fine that they’re happy, it’s just that... they replaced me so fast, and i don’t—

TOMMY: did i ever really matter to them?

SAM; tommy...

PUFFY: well.

PUFFY: it doesn’t matter if you don’t matter to them, because you matter to us.

• after a couple weeks of hanging out w/ puffy and sam, he’d gotten into the habit of referring to them as “mom” and “dad” when they aren’t around. most of the time it’s towards tubbo, and it’s mostly just something he says w/o thinking about it? when he’d first done it he’d shut down for like a solid couple minutes.

TOMMY; anyway, so mom sent me—

TUBBO: mom?

TOMMY: ?

TUBBO: you just referred to puffy as your mom.

TOMMY:

• whenever tommy doubts visiting him in the prison, or gets nervous about talking to him again, puffy & sam always have him sit down for a little bit so they can encourage him. they’re always really gentle w/ him, and they always say he doesn’t have to if he doesn’t want to, but they try their best to encourage him when he’s like that.

• whenever tommy’s feeling down about logstedshire, as well, puffy & sam always have this routine;

PUFFY, pointing to this; what’s this?

TOMMY; my— that’s my arm?

PUFFY: mhm. and what’s this? *pointing to his leg*

TOMMY: my. ... leg?

SAM, putting his hand on tommy’s chest; and what’s this?

TOMMY: my heartbeat — i’m sorry, what’s the point of this?

SAM; it’s to prove that you lived through it.

PUFFY; logstedshire? it isn’t so scary, when you think about it. the person who made it scary is gone; and you’re here.

SAM: you’re still here, that’s all that matters.

• they’re both so extremely petty whenever they talk to phil. they both always loudly exclaim “MY SON” or “MY TOMMY” whenever they’re talking about tommy, just to rub it in phil’s face that tommy likes them better then he likes him. tommy’s always confused whenever he’s talking to phil & sam and puffy come running at them at full yelling things like ‘MY SON’

TOMMY: anyway, so i was saying, phil—

PUFFY, coming up behind TOMMY and giving him a backhug: hello my son :]

TOMMY: um— hi?

PHIL: ...?

SAM, also appearing and giving tommy a flower crown; i hope you like this, MY SON, i picked this out for you. it’s red. your favorite color

TOMMY: um.

PUFFY, glaring daggers at phil over tommys shoulder; have a good day MY SON.

• tommy doesn’t like anyone talking badly about sam or puffy, ever. even if it’s a joke, it doesn’t matter to him; if the slightest negative sentence is uttered about either of them he’s immediately got full armor on & rapidly flying towards them w/ his trident while violently screaming “WHAT’D YOU SAY ABOUT MY MOM AND DAD”

QUACKITY, jokingly: sam’s so weird—

TOMMY, immediately pointing an axe towards his throat; say that again and you die.

• also, tommy isn’t used to be handled w/ such,,,.. care? so, whenever sam or puffy are nice to him he’s always like “thank?? you??” he doesn’t understand why they’re being so kind—why they constantly give him random gifts just because they want to, and not because it’s out of pity. he’s constantly confused on why they’re nice to him w/o an alterior motive, and they have to tell him that it’s because they like him, not because they want something out of him.

TOMMY: puffy, why’re you— why’re you hugging me?

PUFFY, burying her face in his chest; it’s a sign of affection, dingus. it’s a hug.

TOMMY: yeah, okay, but... why?

PUFFY; because i care about you.

TOMMY: why—

SAM, ruffling tommy’s hair; just shut up & accept the hug.

#long post #when wilbur is revived tommy just introduces puffy & sam as ‘mom and dad’ and he’s like ‘okay i guess this is a thing now’#sam & puffy immediately adopt wilbur as well.#they drag along tommy & his mentally ill older brother Everywhere #puffy affectionately calls tommy ‘dingus’ & her favorite thing to do is flick him on the nose #sam likes to call tommy sunflower & pinch his cheeks #they’re both frequently very cuddly with tommy & they’ll take whatever opportunity they can to cuddle him #they’re both also very clingy & very worried about him. they dont want him going anywhere unless he’s sure he’ll be safe #like one time he visited logstedshire with like heaps of armor & multiple shields and weapons #TUBBO: oh #TUBBO: you’re here! you’ve finally come to logstedshire — why are sam and puffy here #TOMMY *puffy and sam clinging to his legs*: they didn’t want me to go #mcyt #mcytblr #dream smp #tommyinnit #minecraft youtubers #mcyters #dream smp spoilers #/roleplay #captainpuffy #awesamdude #the eret #tubbo #ranboo #philza minecraft #philza

1K notes · View notes

deepseavibez · 3 years ago

Text

Why So Serious? || MYG

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

-> Picture Source - Pinterest

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Why So Serious? [Yoongi x Reader]

Prompt - @casnextdoor

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Genre - Fluff; Comfort; Dad!Yoongi; Mom!Y/n; Drabble;

Summary - Why is your babygirl crying? And what can Daddy Yoongi do to make it better.

🎶- People - Agust D

Warning - Crying; Bad feelings(implied); Confused parents (at first)

Word Count - 1.7k

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

'No.' You looked up at the short answer. Four year old tempers were a thing, you understood that but your baby girl hadn't said no to picking up her toys before.

After playtime Mina usually cleaned up after herself, the task relatively easy for her, something like a game to put everything in its place in the shortest time she could.

You believed she got it from her father, because there was no way the trait came from you. You relished in your organized chaos, if it felt like it should be there it would stay there. You would go as far as capping your pens but they were never in their holders, just strewn about your desk, the closest color to your mood for the day.

Stretching your arms out along the island where you were chopping up pieces of apple for a midday snack you gave your toddler your full attention.

'But your LEGOs are all over Minnie, and you finished playing with them this morning,' you tried to sound as gentle as possible - an invitation for an explanation.

'I don't want to.' She shook her head back and forth, no playfulness present, mouth a stubborn line, as if that answer was good enough.

'Mina, those are your toys, you played with them, would it be fair for Mommy to clean up after you?'

Shaking her head in response she looked down and away from you, twiddling with the ears of the giraffe teddy in her hand.

You gave her a minute to move, to respond, each second of it hiking up your level of annoyance.

'I won't ask again, Mina.' Your voice was stern now, patience worn thin.

'No, Mommy, No!' She cried out, and ran out of the room toward Yoongi's study.

'Mina,' you dragged out, following swiftly after her.

You found Yoongi at his desk, phone at his ear, he looked at you and motioned with his eyes toward the tuft of hair peeking out from between his legs.

Leaning on the door you watched her cry, something in you tugging at your chest in frustration, because all you wanted was for her to listen, but you also didn’t want her to cry. She was never like this.

'-- I'll email them by tomorrow, yeah sure, just text me. We can set up a meeting to discuss the list.' Ending his call, Yoongi discarded his phone immediately and reached between his legs to settle his babygirl on his lap.

The transition would amuse you on any other day, the serious, intimidating Min Yoongi, softening his lips, his eyes, using gentle fingers against Mina's cheeks to wipe away her tears.

'What is my pretty girl crying about huh,' he asked, as he tried to make her face him.

Shaking her head in refusal to answer, he looked up at you, a camouflaged seriousness in his eyes, meant only for you.

'She refuses to pick up her LEGOs, told me no, and when I asked her again she ran out of the room crying.' Your voice sounded even but just by looking at you Yoongi could see, you were unnerved. The tantrum uncharted territory, especially for a task carried out so many times before.

'Daddy!' You had barely explained before she burst into tears again, falling into his chest, hiding her face from view.

Holding her close and patting her head tenderly he looked up at you in alarm, 'Why is she-, ' he mouthed at you.

'I don't know,' you mouthed back, shrugging your shoulders in emphasis, your expression bewildered.

Staring ahead for a few seconds, he contemplated before his eyebrows smoothed out, a realization crossed his face, as he decided to do something.

Interest piqued, you straightened up, and watched him, ready to jump in and follow his lead.

Your crying four year old still bawled her eyes out, hiccups coming from her chest, her throat would be ouchy later, you thought in concern.

‘Shh, baby, shh, you aren't in trouble, but you need to tell Daddy why you won’t clean up your toys.’ His voice was soft and coaxing as he gradually pulled her back to look at him. Grabbing tissues from the box he had near his desk for situations like sticky fingers and leaky noses, he wiped her tears and her small nose.

Yoongi, even now, in a situation like this had you in a pile of mush. He was not outwardly one for softness, especially with his blunt nature and his solid hands, but here he was gingerly running his fingers through Mina’s hair and setting it as he cooed at her to stop crying, to listen to Daddy.

Her voice hoarse from crying so hard she answered him, ‘I don't feel okay daddy.’

‘Are you hungry?’ Yoongi prompted, discarding the tissues in the wastebin, his hand now at her back and waist, holding her up, and lowering his head with a sulky expression to match hers.

With a shake of her head, she rubbed at her eye, he tilted his head to the side, and prompted again. ‘Are you tired? We could nap, you and I together, Mommy too.’

Another shake of her head, this time her frown prominent and lip quivering, as if ready to burst into another set of tears.

‘Did mommy do or say something bad to you,’ he asked in a whisper, talking her into telling him a secret.

Your eyes widened at the question, panicking internally in resistance. What was that supposed to mean? As if there were eyes at the back of his head, he held up his hand, a clear sign to wait.

Mina shook her head hard, now in a state, more confusion than ever clouding her features as she battled not to cry. ‘It feels bad, Daddy, I don’t like it and it won’t go away.’

‘Is it telling you to be mean to Mommy?’ Yoongi asked as she grabbed onto his shirt again, ready to hide away.

‘It just feels icky,’ she answered wetly, looking over at you her eyes widened momentarily ‘Mommy don't cry. Daddy I made Mommy cry,’ she cried out in desperation.

Your eyes blurred with unshed tears at your baby’s voice, holding a hand to your mouth you kept as quiet as possible. Yoongi had this.

Yoongi swallowed hard at his daughter's face, his protective instincts flaring, but this was one boogeyman he needed her to fight with him.

‘Baby,’ he used another tissue to wipe up the fresh tears. Moving the keyboard aside, he sat her up on his desk in front of him so she could lay her head on his shoulder and he could rub her back. ‘Sometimes Mina, we feel bad inside, and we don't know what to do about it.’ His voice was smooth as he explained, no indication that he had been affected. ‘It tells us to be mean, because we don't know what we’re really feeling and it's okay baby, because Mommy and Daddy feel it too, and we’re here for you. We love you.’’

‘Do you think it's okay to be mean to mommy.’ He was so patient about it as he asked her and it left you in awe as he made her understand.

‘No,’ the word muffled as half her face was squished on her father’s shoulder.

‘No it isn't, baby, and we can't help you if you don't tell us what's wrong.’ Pulling back he smiled softly, her cheeks puffed up and blotchy, eyes shiny but without tears. ‘If you told mummy you were feeling icky, she would have tried to help, right?’

She nodded enthusiastically at that. ‘Mommy always helps me.’

Your heart soared at the statement as you watched the energy come back to your Mina.

‘There's my girl,’ Yoongi smirked as he pinched her nose and she scrunched up her face, at the action. ‘So from now on, when you feel like this again, you can tell Mommy or Daddy and we can help you and take care of you.’ Holding out his pinky finger, she smiled as she curled her small pinky finger around his - she knew we took pinky promises very seriously.

‘Come on, let's go give mummy a hug and tell her you're sorry.’ She reached up her hands to be picked up as he stood from his office chair.

Mina reached out for you as Yoongi carried her towards you and you plucked her easily from him. Her hands immediately wrapped around your neck and she placed a wet kiss on your cheek.

‘I'm sorry for being meany mommy.’

‘It's okay baby,’ rocking her back and forth, you closed your eyes at the feel of your small human in your arms, a certain escape, as if everything in the world mattered a little less as long as she was okay. ‘Mommy feels bad too sometimes, and you know what daddy does?’ You prompted excitedly.

She leaned back to look at you, her cheeks puffy, lips pouting, as she listened to you.

‘Daddy gives me lots of cuddles and kisses me here and here and here and here,’ you placed kisses on her cheeks and forehead and nose, ‘and he gives me food, and chocolate and anything else I want.’

Giggling now, your chest ached at her happiness, a sweet ache, her importance beyond anything she could imagine.

‘Did you know Daddy got me Gloss when I felt really really bad.’

‘Big white gloss,’ she motioned with her hands, her eyes full of wonderment.

‘Yep,’ you popped the ‘p’. ‘Big white gloss,’ your own excitement palpable at the mention of the white teddy bear on your bed, his size slightly bigger than her form.

‘Mommy,’ she motioned you forward with her hand and you leaned closer to her, ‘Can daddy get me a gloss too?’ She told you in your ear.

Her very loud whisper had you turning your attention to the man who now leaned against the wall and watched the interaction.

He smiled his gummy smile as wrapped his arms around both of you and answered her softly, ‘Anything for you Minnie.’

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

303 notes · View notes

ac3id · 4 years ago

Text

The Artist and His Majesty| 18+

𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒶𝓇𝓉𝒾𝓈𝓉 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓂𝒶𝒿𝑒𝓈𝓉𝓎 0 / 5 | fantasy au.

chapter i , chapter ii

pairings: yandere! emperor! shigaraki x female! reader.

warnings: [series] dubcon, exhibitionism, size difference, degradation, masturbation, bondage, reader is also kind of delusional, death, violence (not on reader). (there are more but i can’t think right now.]

↪ for chapter 0: none !!

summary: you come to the big city in hopes of starting your career as an artist but things take a shocking turn when you’re recruited as the court painter for the royal palace.

↪ for chapter 0: a strange man approaches you, offering to buy your painting to which you oblige. little do you know that it kicks of a series of unfortunate events ending with you being trapped in shigaraki tomura’s clutches forever.

wordcount.

a/n: finally !! i started this series. high-key inspired by these two dresses in my wardrobe and @ana-list‘s this drawing ! seriously it’s literally everything. also thank you once again for proof reading this @the-grimm-writer !

taglist: @shigaraki-is-my-master, @deathmemeiverse, @n4dhii, @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love, @mstssister, @nereida19, @prince-zukohere [dm to be added/ removed.]

“That’s a beautiful painting,” a rough, scruffy voice calls out, jerking you away from your daydreams. Your grip around the color canvas resting in your arms tightens as you glance behind your shoulder to see a well-built man standing right behind you. He’s tall and a lot older than you, he has short grey hair which falls right before his eyebrows along beautiful, matching grey eyes. A cigar hangs lazily from his lips as he occasionally huffs on it, blowing clouds of smoke out his mouth. He’s dressed in expensive robes, a choice of style only people better off could afford. You can’t help exachaning a covetous glance between his expensive suit and your sloppy, knee-length, light green dress. “Thank you.” you murmur shoving him an appreciative look, hoping he’d leave you alone. When you come to the city to complete your studies in art, you mother, father, family and friends had warned you about men like these. Rich, snobby men who liked to lure in young, naive girls. Whispering praises of how they are the most unique on the planet so they pull their guard down form them to take advantage of the helpless beings.

“Can I take a better look? It’s the Emperor, is it not? Your painting. ” You hesitate before turning back to him. Not a lot of people had seen the King to be. He lived humbly in his castle, trying his best to not indulge in the affairs of the common people. “ Yes,” you hold up the slightly small canvas (courtesy of you being broke the entire week and not being able to save up to buy a bigger canvas). To even get an idea of Shigaraki Tomura, you had to go through many people. Not a lot of people had seen his face, he had always kept it hidden under a mask. No one knew why he did so but the many conspiracy throes suggested it was something to do with his personal grief.

You had heard many stories about him. Some made him look like a spoiled brat with a demeaning, ignorant personality who didn’t care for others and as the rumors said: self destructive habits which lead him to tear the skin of his own neck down whenever he got anxious or frustrated.

Others portrayed him as a strong, confident man and a reliable leader who cared for his comrades. You did not know which one of the two personas brought him your attention but you couldn’t complain. Tomura had caught you under a spell, and despite never meeting him (and knowing full well you never would), you were still ready to sacrifice your life for him. He was your King even before he had taken his crown, to you he looked like a shining bright light ready to enlighten you. To you, he was a god. And as years passed by, he grew from a caterpillar into a cocoon which was ready to burst open as a butterfly into the beautiful, mysterious world. And it was happening today, Prince Tomura Shigaraki’s Coronation ceremony. After the passing of All For One, it was his turn to take the crown and fulfill his duty as the ruler of the nation

The entire city was busy, bustling with people. Families, friends and everyone in between gathered around the huge castle walls as they waited for the ceremony to begin. They waited patiently, filled with excitement and joy as they waited to catch a glimpse of the new great King. You were among them. You had come down to the centre of the city with your friends, waiting alongside many to catch a glimpse of the new ruler. The painting which nestled in your hand was something you were hoping to sell today, to a shop or anyone who wants to have it. It was a beautiful painting which had taken you several days to complete, and dare you say it, you were quite proud of it. From all the things you had heard about Tomura, you had managed to sketch him decently. Long white, wavy hair reaching till his shoulder, skin white as snow. He sat proudly on his throne wearing a cape with his vermillion eyes peering through your soul. His face was scarcely detailed as you did not have much idea about it but he still looked ethereal. With little scars running both his eyes and a comparatively larger one on his right. Chapped lips with even more scars running over them wildly, he was not conventionally attractive. No one would call him a pretty boy yet there was something more, something alluring which attracted you to him. His beauty was rare, not in the grasp of many but if it was grasped and held close to the heart, it was hard to let go off. And you found him attractive, very attractive.

The man took a good look at your painting, examining it carefully and for a second you really thought he had seen the mysterious Prince. “It’s quite similar to him,” he sends you a friendly grin and you notice a tooth from his front missing, leaving an uncomfortable gap. “Have you seen him before?” he asked and you shake your head, no. He gives you an amused expression, “I must say, you are very talented, miss…?” you complete your name with a nervous smile. “And you are?” you ask.

You realised that you were getting a little too comfortable with the stranger and it could be a really bad decision but you can’t help but give him the benefit of the doubt as he behaves like a gentleman you can find yourself to trust. “Kagero Okuta but I like to go by Giran,” he says with a lop-sided grin. Giran, you’ve heard the name before but cannot recall where and how. It sounds so familiar but you just can’t grasp it, he looked wealthy so you assumed he was a Noble and that made you even more curious as to why he was speaking to you.

“What are you planning to do with that painting?” he asks, diving a closer look and admiring its features. “I must say, you’ve got it quite accurate but,” you stiffen, your hands growing cold as your heartbeat picks up. You realized your painting must have some complications, drawing a man you had never seen before purely out of your interpretation was a hard and a bold task to do. But to have someone who had actually seen the King for himself pinpoint your mistakes sent a rush of anxiety through your veins.

“He’s not that bony.” He completes and you gulp nervously, looking down at your painting in disappointment. Your eyes are filled with disappointment, all of the time and effort you spent making the piece all for it go in vain just because you missed a small detail. Giran notices your remorse and speaks up, “But that’s quite alright. He looked just like that until a while ago,” he hadn’t meant to offend or hurt you. He still believed your painting was the most beautiful thing he had seen all day.

“What do you mean?” you ponder, giving him a perplexed look. He leans in closer to you as if to tell a secret, “let’s say the King has been working out behind closed doors.” you blink in confusion. It was a strange thing to say, exactly how well did this man know the Emperor? Who was it that you were talking?

“Who are you?” you can’t help but question, bewildered by such a character. Giran says nothing. He just stares at you with his lips curled into a snappy smirk, holding his cigar between his lips. He was not going to tell you anything. Without wasting time, he quickly changes the topic. “What are you going to do with that painting?” he repeats, his voice growing impatient.

“I am planning to sell it,” you feel a bit taken back. The friendly aura which had Giran had now disappeared for a reason you could not conclude. “Sell it? To whom?” the intruding nature of his tone starts to make you uncomfortable, there’s nothing more you want to do other than get far away from him. Yet you still find yourself answering him, “To anyone who wants it.” he hums at your response, his eyes holding a mocking glint. “Wouldn’t you like to give it to the Emperor himself?” you frown, was he mocking you?

“That’s well...impossible.” you reply, stretching your neck awkwardly. “To you, maybe.”

You stop yourself from rolling your eyes, this man was really testing your patience. A part of you tells you to ignore him and walk away but as he reaches into his coat and pulls out a bag of coins worth much more than you could ever earn in a month, he has you hooked yet again.

“Hey, let me buy that painting, would yer’?”

“What is the problem now?” Giran takes a seat around the round table. It was late after the Coronation ceremony and the Royal palace was already facing problems. Giran was disappointed but definitely not surprised. After all, he was their personal problem solver and broker. “It’s not that big of a deal.” A curt and hard reply cut him off.

“It actually is, Shigaraki Tomura.” a voice speaks, coming from a man dressed in a black suit with a long, flowy robe covering his entire body. He stands taller than the other two men in the as his head is replaced with a wisp of smoke. He was none other than the trusted and talented magician of the Royal family. With eccentric features and an ability to wield strange magic, nobody knew where he came from. There were many rumors about him; that he was once a normal, handsome man cursed by a witch that turned him into a hideous monster or he simply was a ghost. “What is it, Kurogiri?” Giran rephrases his question, directing it to the other man. “We need a new painter,-”

“Servant.” Shigaraki corrected. He stood in front of the giant windows glancing over his city as his men talked about hiring a new painter for the castle. He couldn’t care less about such tedious tasks, he had his focus set on greater things like expanding his territory, taking back stolen land.

“What happened to Mr. Kyo?” Giran asked, Shigaraki rolled his eyes at the mention of the name and clicked his tongue, “His Majesty eliminated him.” Giran stops himself from laughing out loud. He was certain once Shigaraki would take over the throne incidents like so would double the instant. But he was expecting it to happen so soon. “And why was that?”

“He was breathing too loud, like you are right now.”

A cold silence broke over the room as Giran counted his breath. Kurogiri looked nervously at Shigaraki who still had his back turned to them. The longer the pause grew, the dreadful the atmosphere became. Shigaraki’s threat strung the air loud and clear and Giran was afraid to speak again. “What we are asking for is that-,” Kurogiri started in a calm, slow tone easing the tension in the room. “-we need a new court painter. Do you have any names?”

The murderous sent in the air magically disappeared as a grin stretched across Giran’s face.

“Aren’t you in luck?” He says, running a hand through his hair before taking a puff out of his cigar. “Does that mean you know someone?” Kurogiri questioned. Giran hummed, “You see, I met this beautiful painter today. She’s extremely talented and I know for a fact she will love working for the castle.”

“What’s the name?” growing impatient, Shigaraki asks. “Oh, it was,” Giran pauses for a moment to recall.

“Ah yes, Y/N L/N.”

1K notes · View notes

yanderecrazysie · 3 years ago

Note

If you don’t mind could I please request the yandere alphabet with Ushijima 🥺? Thank you 💜💜

OOOH Wonder Boy Ushiwaka! I swear I'm the worst with writing him- he's like simple and complicated at the same time-

Thank you so much for requesting!!! I'll do my very best!

Ushijima Wakatoshi (Haikyuu) -The Yandere Alphabet

🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅

Warnings: yandere themes,

A is for Affection: How do they show their affection for their darling? How often do they show it?

💖 Ushijima isn't the most affectionate type to be 100% honest. It's not that he won't ever show you affection, it's just that he doesn't quite know HOW to.

💖 Physical affection will pretty much have to be something you directly ask for if you want it. He won't pick up on hints well and he's not the type to randomly want to cuddle.

💖 He can be kinda protective/possessive though, so he may wrap you into an embrace or hold you close. That's not so much out of affection though-

💖 Basically: Ushijima's way of showing affection is his ever-constant presence, over-protectiveness, and gentle way of treating you.

B is for Blood: How messy are they willing to get for their darling? Why?

🔪 I don't think Ushijima sees the need to kill for you. It's not that he doesn't want to kill- I honestly don't think it'd bother him if he had to- it's that he doesn't see any real threats to you.

🔪 This guy looks terrifying and he wants to be around you 24/7. Do you really think anyone's going to try something on you with that giant, intimidating man hovering behind you?

🔪 If someone was stupid/drunk enough to try something, Ushijima would just casually toss him across the street. If that guy was strong/big too, you better believe Ushijima will fight as hard as it takes to get the guy to back down/become unconscious.

🔪 If someone tried something on you while he wasn't there, it just means he has to work harder to protect you. Which means being around you even more. Always...

C is for Care or Cruelty: How would they treat their darling when they kidnap them? Would they mock them?

💔 Ushijima wouldn't mock you in the slightest. In fact, he'd be genuinely confused if you tried to run away or were upset that he kidnapped you. He seriously just won't understand why you're scared.

💔 He'll take good care of you though. Honestly, he'll probably baby you a little. He'll want to be the one to feed you, he'll check in on you every 5 minutes, he'll make sure you're in his line of sight at all times...

D is for Delusion: How delusional are they when it comes to their darling? Do they believe their darling loves them?

💭 It's difficult to say with Ushijima. He isn't exactly good with social skills and he's a little awkward, to put it lightly. So, he does kind of expect you to love him back and will think you're confused if you say you don't.

💭 But I don't know if that's considered delusion because that's just Ushijima being Ushijima. Yeah, he thinks you love him. No, it's not any different than him being 100% sure he's going to win a volleyball match.

E is for Expose: How much of their heart do they bear to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling? How much time will it take to trust them?

💧 Uh... Ushijima will flat-out tell you what he's thinking and if you say "bear his heart" he'll think that you're trying to skin him down to his organs or something. He's kinda blunt, basically.

💧 Trust though? I mean, Ushijima trusts you in a way, but in a way, he doesn't. He doesn't trust that you can take care of yourself but he trusts you to be honest.

💧 Like I said, he's complicated. Best way I can explain it is: he trusts you completely but he kind of underestimates your abilities. He has no doubts in his mind that you won't try to run away but he'll also lock up all the exits tight because he worries that you'll get outside and get hurt. Contradictory, I know.

F is for Fight: How would they react if their darling fought back?

👊 Picture a confused puppy that you just pushed off your lap. Like this boy has literally no clue why on earth you're fighting back and he's going to stare at you like you've got a second head growing out of your shoulder.

👊 Ushijima's secretly wondering if you've caught some sort of illness that's making you delirious as he calmly picks you up and tucks you into bed. Your flailing fists and clawing nails are nothing compared to this hulk of a man carrying you away.

G is for Guilt: What would it take for them to feel guilty about their actions? Or do they feel guilty from the start?

😔 Ushijima truly, honestly doesn't see the wrong in what he's doing. Like, I don't think he can comprehend that he's doing something very bad. He's doing what's best for you! That's good, right?

H is for Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

🔥 Ushijima would NEVER hurt you and he doesn't really get angry either. I guess the worst experience would be the struggle of trying to gain freedom or even get the point across that you aren't happy about something. It's like talking to a brick wall. A very confused brick wall.

I is for Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

👩‍❤️‍👨 I don't think Ushijima's really thought too far ahead, to be honest. He loves you and that's all that matters to him. As long as you don't leave (which he's positive you won't) life is happy.

👩‍❤️‍👨 He'd probably want kids one day. Only one or two, but he'd be fine if you had more. He'd take good care of them and teach them to act just like him...

J is for Jealousy: How easily do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

💢 Ushijima doesn't get the concept of jealousy. Worrying about your safety when another guy talks to you? Sure, he does that. But jealous about it? Not really.

K is for Kidnap: How would they go about kidnapping their darling? How much do they plan it out?

🔒 You're just walking home and suddenly you're waking up in a bedroom that you don't recognize. Don't worry, you're not alone! Ushijima's sitting in a chair next to the bed, making sure you wake up.

🔒 Ushijima would plan just far enough to buy all the things you'd need to be "happy" with him. Medication, hygiene products- nothing will go unaccounted for. This man will have a shopping list longer than a roll of toilet paper dedicated to you.

L is for Love Letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

💌 I think he'd try to walk right up to you and he'd be very disappointed that you're kind of nervous around him. He can't really blame you, considering he looks kinda scary- from his stature to his expression.

💌 Okay, so trying to talk to you didn't work either. Ushijima's a little socially awkward. But that's fine! He'll just bring you back to his place and keep you there until you understand that he loves you. Flawless plan, right?

M is for Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they acted before?

🎭 Other than being a little softer and gentler towards you, Ushijima doesn't change in the least. Like, I'm not sure anyone would notice "odd behavior" because he doesn't find it strange or out of the ordinary himself. He's still the stoic guy we all know him as.

N is for Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

🚓 Ushijima really wouldn't punish you. If you're freaking out, he'll just calmly tuck you into bed and check your temperature because, surely, you're ill if you're acting like that.

🚓 In Ushijima's eyes, you can do no wrong. So, you're honestly safe around this giant of a man. Congrats?

O is for Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling? What rights can be earned with time and trust?

📜 You may be able to wander around his house, but you aren't leaving it. But you're kind of... babied. Anything remotely sharp will be tucked away and locked up, you'll have a set bedtime, and you'll probably feel like a kid again.

P is for Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

🕊️ Since Ushijima doesn't think you're doing anything wrong and, when you fight back, he thinks that you're having a hard time or you're sick or something, he'll be extremely patient. He could never get frustrated with you!

Q is for Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

🏃‍♀️ If you died, Ushijima would probably just turn to volleyball x100. He wouldn't want to think about it and would just try to distract himself from it all.

🏃‍♀️ If you escaped, Ushijima would just keep searching until he found you. You poor thing, you must be so scared and lonely out there, without him to protect you. Hold on, he'll find you and bring you back home again.

R is for Rage: How do they act when angry? How do they calm down?

👿 He doesn't get angry at you. I'm serious. He rarely gets angry in general but he could NEVER get angry at you.

S is for Soulmate: What made them fall in love with their darling? How did they first meet? When did they realize they loved their darling?

💍 You showed up at one of his volleyball games and he immediately noticed you. He's not sure what drew him to you, only that you were the most beautiful thing in the world to him. It really was love at first sight for him.

T is for Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

😭 Ushijima would be so confused. Why are you crying? Are you injured? Where are you? Oh, are you trying to play hide and seek?

😭 You're honestly digging your own grave because you're making him concerned and his protective instinct levels are off the charts. He's not going to give you time alone to cool down because he's pretty sure you need him by your side- even though he's the thing that's scaring you.

U is for Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

👌 Like I've said, Ushijima honestly doesn't understand your reservations about being kidnapped and forced into a relationship with him. You have no chance of reasoning with him- you'll have more luck trying to convince the walls of your new home.

V is for Visit: Would they allow anyone else to visit their darling? Do they trust their darling to talk to their loved ones (in person, on the phone, etc.) or not at all?

🧳 Ushijima doesn't trust anyone with your safety. No one can come over to visit you under any circumstances. It's not so much "hiding the evidence" as it is "protecting you from his insane buddies".

W is for Weakness: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

❌ I think some affection and some tactful persuasion is your best chance. Especially the persuasion.

❌ "Wakatoshi, did you know that direct sunlight is better for you? Not just through the windows, I mean. I miss the fresh air too, you know..."

X is for Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

🛐 Ushijima doesn't worship you, but he prioritizes your safety over everything in his life, even volleyball. He doesn't care so much about trying to win you over- he sees no need to wait for you to realize what he already knows.

Y is for Yearning: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

😍 When Ushijima kidnaps you, you're going to be VERY taken aback. You won't even know him personally- you're lucky if you even know his name. And even that's likely just by word-of-mouth, considering he's pretty famous.

😍 This man saw you and knew he had to have you. He doesn't wait long, trust me.

Z is for Zero Tolerance: What is the thing that always makes them snap? What things will they not allow their darling to do under any circumstances?

0️⃣ I mean, he won't let you leave. But like, even if you try to escape, he's just going to assume you're confused about where the bathroom is located or something. You cannot make this man mad.

0️⃣ Ushijima probably would be very hurt if you called him names. Even if he chalked it up to you being sick or confused or something, it still stings worse than any volleyball injury. His expression won't even change though...

🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅

HOLY CRAP THAT TOOK A WHILE-

I really hope you enjoy! Ushiwaka's so hard to write for, in my opinion! The wiki's description of his personality makes me laugh so hard-

#yandere #yandere haikyuu #yandere ushijima #ushijima wakatoshi #yandere alphabet #haikyuu!!

153 notes · View notes

i-need-air · 4 years ago

Note

Hey it's me again ❤️

I'm just gonna whisper something in your mind (is that even possible?)

Having a baby with Hybrid Katsuki.

Just that. Imagine girl. Perfection.

Ok, real talk here. Every time I see a request from you I uwu a little bit bc I know for a fact whatever you're requesting will make me get so immersed and involved and I'm gonna 💕💞AAAAAA💕💞 while writing AND [lemmecatchmybreath] it happened once again skdjdkfkf Hope you enjoy and sorry it took longer than normal~

Word count: 1.8k

× listen 🥺 I already started and I'm melting, ok?

× when he finds out you're having a smol baby together?

× he freezes and looks at you in a whole different light

× if you're getting pregnant, he will definitely smell the change in your scent and will know even before you do; he'd be instantly by your side with a bewitched expression on his face, taking your cheeks into his palms to just soak everything in yet he's shaking slightly

× and even if you adopt [hopefully a smol hybrid], something deep inside of Katsuki, burried and long forgotten surfaces

× this is the life he always wanted, he always craved even in his darker moments

× this happiness, this fulfillment, this joy

× I absolutely believe he will diligently read and learn everything about the baby to come; will educate himself like no other, deciding to be the very best father he could ever be

× his life was rough and he was stolen away from his biological family, he will now have a chance to have his own and he will not fail you or the baby

× when you hold the little bundle of sunshine in your hands, head down admiring the beauty of a new life, he will stand there, again in shock, again soaking this moment in... so beautiful, so perfect

× will he ever tell you that? of course not; angry ass wild pomeranian—

× but his face gives him away every single time and when you tilt yourself to hand him his new son or daughter, he falls in love for the second time in his life;

× he burries his nose in the soft and fragile skin of the baby's head and breathes in, his instinct kicking in to defend, protect, care, look out for...

× watch carefully because once the baby makes a noise, he'll still, unsure of what to do, but smile so softly as the baby coos in his arms securely; that right there is the best image you can have of soft Katsuki.

× the first few weeks are actually horrible, sorry to break it to everyone aksjskdj not because he doesn't know what to do or does not want to help; on the contrary, he is so incredibly attentive but he also recites the books he learned by memory at this point and it's getting absolutely infuriating;

× although understand him, please; he wants to prove he's a good dad 🥺 except you wanna smack him bc he scoffs if you suggest something he isn't sure about.

× you will find him standing by the baby's crib as it sleeps; he's just???? making sure this is not a dream????? don't question anything though

× can we hc Bakugou with a daughter too? [ already established in the Hybrid!Kiri hcs that Kiri'd have daughter bUT i just really really like beefy men with tiny daughters;;; my heartttt;;; ]

× his little angel, no discussion, no argument, his daughter can do NO WRONG!

× he's very down to earth though, don't get me wrong, he just absolutely adores spoiling her

× speaks softly into her ear, the lowest you'd hear from him

× gruff, raspy, gutural voice ofter overused to scream now low and soft as he holds her into his chest; doesn't do baby-voices or anything like that, but calls her his angel then smirks at you if you're watching;;; then starts softly complaining and bitching about you to the baby 💀 all while rubbing her back

× omfg his hand is as big as her tiny back; guys, call an ambulance, I'm—

× Katsuki would be the type of little shit to pull what I just said then grab you and glue you to his chest too; he'd look down at you both, eyes shining in such adoration he'd take your breath away just before he continues his ranting about you;

× once the baby starts being more interactive, her giggles specially the ones induced by her daddy will make him melt; absolute diminute baby with a small wiggling tail clapping her chubby hands at her dad? his eyes would widen suddently, ears snapping high in surprise and he's taken back by the emotions overtaking him

× he's gone, man; she has him wrapped around her tiny little finger and you can't do anything about it

× instantly acts all in denial if someone is around though; scoffs to hide is obvious smile, placing a palm on his mouth to further block it out and tickles her with the other, earning another fit of giggles

× please, don't tell him his whole tail is waving from side to side

× the only clear giveaway apart from his ears and it's;;; a d o r a b l e;;;

× specially when your daughter also starts wagging her tail in response whenever he does it;

× "Hey, come see what the dumbass is doing!" or "Look at what she did" while showing you a video; proud pappa 🥺

× we're bringing back Proud Bakugou bc hIS DAUGHTER iS tHe BeSt; no, seriously, his kid is the mf best in the world and he will start this presentation with—

× now sit down with me and accept this: the baby; yes, your sweet daughter; mhm, that adorable screeching angel; mhm;;; she'll talk so early it's disturbing.

× at 6 months or so she's already saying mamma, dadda, kitty, woof-woof

× seriously terrifying how sharp she is and how she cannot shut up; for the love of gOd, Katsuki, this is all your fault... it doesn't matter, he just smirks as he has another reason to brag to anyone about his child

× did that street vendor look at him funny? "I'M GONNA FUCKING TELL YOU ABOUT MY DAUGHTER—"

× super-protective of her and fucking hates with a burning passion if anyone dares to do that thing where they match up babies saying "Maybe they'll get married when they grow up"

× hands down, no filter, he just looks deep down in whoever had the audacity and says "Like fucking shit they'd deserve her."

× drag him away before he throws fists

× he will definitely if you don't drag him away and you know it, they know it, the baby knows it and cheers for pappa, the whole world knows it at this point and they're buying tickets to watch the shitshow

× chest carrier and walks around with the kid like a boss

× man has shit to do, don't even dare to judge him;

× handles fits really well, he's impressive to say at least

× she's spoiled, yes and always has new toys, coloring books, whatever she wants but the moment she throws fits, he puts his foot down

× baby would be smol angery bb all adorable in all her Bakugou genetics anger and he'd just stare, tapping his foot

× literally waits in place until she calms and looks up at him with big, round eyes, puffy red cheeks and ears lowered

× mission accomplished; he nods then picks her up;

× and you're there amazed??????

× "The fuck you lookin' at?" lil shit still has a foul mouth tho, but make him get just as pouty and embarrassed as the child in his arms by saying something cheesy like "How amazing you are as a dad 💕"

× all rainbows and unicorns until she starts repeating insults and fr tho, Katsu almost shits his pants, fearing your reaction. Will, hands down, chill out with the insults even if he meant no damage with them; he has this unreadable expression on, a mix of shame and fluster, dread too? he's sorry, ok????

× loves, loves, loves cooking for you both and once the kiddo has her own special chair to sit at the dining table together, that's when he sees it: his dream

× you, wiping some food off her cheek with a loving expression, talking about your day casually, baby giggling while she moves her face away playfully; he loves you both so much.

× has these rare moments where, at the end of the day once you're settled in bed, he'd hug you tight and thank you in his mind for... for this... all of it...

× once she starts walking they're both a disaster

× seriously, do not expect the household to be silent ever again [ well, that dream was gone long ago anyway lol ]

× "Where the fuck do you think you're goin'?"

× rapid giggle running around from place to place

× "Oh, for fucks—"

× "Katsuki." you only need to say, catching him in his insults

× 😳 ... "Kid, come back, we're goin' to the park." Skdjkdfkl

× sudden adorable tiny fast steps approach him bc they're going for walkies!

× he is very careful with her and teaches her about stranger danger; also teaches her how to growl and even if her attempt is a total failure, small rawr leaving her lips, he's like "Yes. Good job. Now give it more heart."

× he growls as an example

× she growls back, sounding like a cute lil pup 🥺💕

× as she grows up, she obviously acts more like her father yet he knows when to stop the bad behaviors and it only takes a warning growl from him to get her to cease

× yet somehow you're the strict parent at the end of the day??????? tf????????? who made the rules??????

× starts calling her brat, squirt, lil shit 💕lovingly💕

× "your child" if she did something bad

× "Your fucking child kicked the ball into the vase and broke it." Aha, nice one, Katsuki. Good job.

× not to brag but her puppy eyes don't work on him but yours do; the problem is her puppy eyes do work on you bc she's the light of your life so if she wants something; she'll puppy-eye you knowing you'll get it for her bc daddy loves you very much 💕💞

× literally evil mastermind; didn't I tell you she's sharp? pft, she's playing you both so hard

× every day he comes back from work she runs to him at the door, tail wiggling happily behind her as she stretches her arms to be picked up and he always does, without a doubt, then proceeds to kiss the top of her head

× come out to greet him too? the whole loving routine is his absolute thing and wants to see you, have you kiss his cheek; he complains but adores it soooooo much!

× you have a family night; BONDING WITH MOODY POMERANIANS. Yes, plural, and it sounds perfect~

× even if it's just one of those animated movies he hates so much, he'll watch through all of it and make sarcastic comments just to make you both laugh; will grin satisfied asf if he manages to do so bc he's the best.

× will definitely want another kid, so how about maybe a boy??? hmm???

× asks you if you're up for the idea and if you agree, he'll roll his eyes and crack his shoulders, acting so very uninterested and purely exhausted yet his smirk would give him away:

× "Knew you'd torture me with another devil"

× throw him out, istg— 💀

#bakugou katsuki headcanons #noire writes #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #hybrid!bakugou #hybrid!au

417 notes · View notes

cades-outsider · 4 years ago

Text

Eli/Hawk X Reader

Warnings: This may get you in your feels for a sec! Very slight smut warning!

Fighting Gravity

You would be lying if you said it wasn't tough, it was the hardest thing you have done. It's not easy breaking up with someone but you felt as if you had no other choice.

You were with Eli before he turned into Hawk, before he started becoming someone who he despised the most, he became his worst enemy; a bully.

Just as if the day could get any worse you had to be at school, well it was lunch time so it wasn't so bad. I mean you were already halfway through school just two more classes, that you also share with Demetri.

"Listen to me Y/n" Demetri says catching your attention.

You playfully roll your eyes as you know that he's going to tell you a cheesy Star Wars joke, that will most likely be funny to only you and Demetri and we'll Eli if he were a 'nerd' again as he calls it.

"Which Star Wars character works at a restaurant?" He questions, already laughing at the joke he was thinking of.

"I don't know who?" You ask sarcastically.

"Darth Waiter" Demetri says, now fully laughing at his own joke.

He laughs at his own joke caused to you to laugh, plus it was a cheesy move. The laughing dies down as you and Demetri stop, in the middle of the hallway. Eyes subconsciously connecting with each other's, you both feel yourselves being pulled towards one another.

"What the h*ll do you think you're doing nerd?!" You hear someone yell causing both you and Demetri to pull away, have being caught.

"I-uh well-" Demetri stutters before you speak up, Demetri sighs in relief.

"Why do you care? We aren't together anymore" You exclaim, as Hawk walks closer to you both.

"Yeah I wonder why, it's not like I wanted you anyways" He smirks.

You knew what was happening, you knew that he was just putting on a facade to the students that don't give a crap about him.

"Oh yeah? And how's that working out for you" You smirk.

"Quite well actually, I don't have to see your ugly reflection everyday" Hawk snarls.

"Yeah well neither do I" You scoff, almost saying something bad but you bite back your lip. Knowing that's Eli's insecure spot, that you shouldn't bring up.

You bite back the urge to say something you'd regret in the long run "whatever I'm not even in the mood" you roll your eyes and walk away.

"Come on Demetri" You demand as he follows behind.

"Uh- what was that?" He asks referring to the almost kiss.

"I- I don't know" You admit honestly.

He decides to not ask any more questions even though it kept running around his mind. After lunch, the day went by pretty fast you were driving on the way home when you got a call. It was Demetri.

Both Demetri and Moon decided to get your mind off of things, so she threw you a as she called it a 'get over hawk' party. Which was what Demetri called to tell you about of course.

"Come on Y/n! This will help you in-lighten your inner spiritual self!" Moon says jumping up and down, clapping excitedly.

"Fine fine fine...." you mumble, knowing you couldn't say no to Moon.

"Yay!" She exclaims happily.

"Come on I have the perfect dress for you!" She says pulling you into her closet full of dresses and unique outfits.

"Here! Take this!" Moon pushes the dress into your chest, excited.

You don't even get time to check out the dress before Moon rushes you into her second closet, "rude..." you mumble playfully.

You slip on the dress, with no problems at all. It fit ever curve just perfectly. "Wow.." you gape as you spin around looking at yourself in the mirror.

The dress included a slit in the middle from your thigh and it was a sparkling blue shade, with spaghetti straps.

Not even a second later Moon barges into the closet causing you to jump, she squeals cheerfully "o-m-g you look so sexy!" She says smirking, proud of herself.

"Wait, why am I wearing a dress when I'm just going to swim anyways?" You question.

"Oh you silly Y/n! We're showing Hawk what he's missing!" Moon says smiling as she grabs some of her green juice that she made.

"Okay.." You nod your head, trailing off.

"Plus I bought me a matching colored dress!" She says holding up the dress.

You gasp "it's beautiful Moon! You'll look gorgeous! As always" You gush.

Moon smiles slightly at the compliment "well what are you waiting for! Let me do your hair" She says ushering you in the chair.

After a couple hours Moon had finished your makeup and hair turning you around to see your beautiful reflection in the mirror.

"Wow.." you gape at the magic Moon had put into.

"I know right!" Moon agrees.

"Oo- I'm going to slip on my dress!" She exclaims happily as she rushes into her bathroom.

An hour went by and people were finally here, kids eating pizza in the corner, some drinking beer, and some already throwing up in the lawn.... 'pfttt lightweights' you giggle to yourself.

In the middle of your direction you seen Hawk and a group of his friends sitting around him, a red solo cup in his hands as his fierce eyes scan over the partying people. Only to be met with your beautiful shinning eyes.

His demeanor changes almost immediately, he was tired of putting up this act yeah. But he did not want to go back to the kid with the weird lip, so throwing this act away was a no at least for now.

His eyes sparkle with admiration as he scans your beautiful features, and your sparkling blue dress. He couldn't help but let his eyes wander to the slit in your dress which revealed your right thigh.

Just then Demetri walks over to you with a wave "hey Y/n, would you like to I don't know per say go for a swim?" He asks, beating around the bush.

Sparing a side glance at Hawk you notice his jaw clench as he squeezes his red solo cup causing whatever liquor that was held inside to drip down his hands and onto the floor.

Deciding what harm could do you nod "I'd love too" you reply as he leads you both to the pool outside, few people in the pool which confused you considering it seems like people always head for the pool first at party's.

Unzipping the side of your dress you reveal your white bikini that Moon had bought for you three days prior as a best friend-adversary gift along with a matching gold necklace.

You of course returned the gesture as this was your best friend were talking about, you fold the dress and put it under your towel so it wouldn't get wet.

Demetri had already started getting in the pool, sitting down as you got in slowly enjoying the cold water against your warm skin.

"You know Y/n, you look not the term I would use... but you look mighty fine" Demetri compliments causing you to giggle but roll your eyes playfully.

That is until you hear a cup hit the concrete ground next to you, "you just can't stay away from what's mine can you Demetri" Hawk interrupts.

You look up at him in shock, obviously it was just a compliment so why is he getting all worked up. I mean when people compliment Hawk you certainly try to start anything with them.

"Hawk, cool it" You say softly, not wanting to come off as rude.

"Oh so I'm supposed to 'cool it' while I watch Demetri flirt with you? H*ll no." He states bluntly as he starts walking closer to Demetri.

Deciding you didn't want to see one of your friends get beat today, you pull yourself out of the pool. Gently you grab hawk by his forearm, grab your towel and push him into the pool shed full of floats.

Roughly you slam his back against the wall causing a couple floats to fall off the wall "we need to talk" You state.

Hawk's breathing picks up at how close you both are, "no talking" he says sliding his hands onto your cheek, rubbing his thumb in circles against your skin.

"Just kissing..." He mumbles before placing his lips upon yours, pulling your body closer into his causing him to get wet since you just got out of the pool.

You pull away leaving Eli with a hurt look as you push onto his chest pressing him against the wall firmer "we talk and sort things out then I give you what you want." You state firmly.

Slowly Hawk nods, giving you puppy eyes "Look Eli, I love you I really do. But I don't like watching you become someone who you used to hate, I don't want you to inflict pain mentally... and physically like others did to you" You exclaim softly, rubbing his cheek soothingly.

His jaw clenches before he soon relaxes "i understand Y/n, and I'm sorry I just didn't want to be the weird kid with the lip anymore..." He mumbles, slowly tearing up.

"Eli... baby, you were never the kid with the weird lip. I love you for you, not strength, muscles, or popularity but you. I loved your corny jokes-" You rest your arms around his neck "-I loved your shyness, I loved your battle scar baby... it's what makes you my Eli" You finish as a small tear falls down Eli's eye.

"Don't get me wrong, I love your confidence now and I love your hair but I didn't want you to get to wrapped up in it" You mumble softly.

"I'm sorry Y/n, I really am" Eli mumbles, digging his head into your shoulder and wrapping his arms around your waist.

"Don't be Eli, baby I understand what happened and I know why it happened but just know I always loved and always will love the real you" You say smiling as you lift his head up with your thumb.

You run your finger over the scar on his lip before placing a gentle, loving kiss upon the scar "this is beautiful Eli, don't be afraid to love who you are" You praise as Eli feels his heart warm up with love.

Eli reaches down and picks you up by your thighs before placing you on the little couch that laid in the room, he places his smooth lips on top of yours letting you feel his vulnerable state.

He tugs in the middle of your bikini asking for permission if he cold take it off but before you could respond someone busts into the shed causing you both to jump.

It was some horny couple making out and slamming each other against the walls removing clothing not even paying attention or noticing you two.

"Seriously?! Get out!" Eli yells, startling the couple causing them to rush out half naked.

You giggle as you rest on your elbows, sitting yourself up a little as Eli sits on his knees halfway straddling your thighs.

"You think this is funny huh?" He teases has he bends down leaving kisses on your neck.

"Yeah, I love the rush of being caught" You exclaim, catching Eli off guard.

"Oh really? We'll see about that"

_______________________________________________

Thank you @peachymelon69 for requesting! I hope you enjoyed!

#robby keene #cobra kai imagine #cobra kai #cobra kai x reader #eli moskowitz x reader #x reader #wattpad #hawk #jacob bertrand #netflix #hawk x reader #Eli hawk moskowitz #slight warning #warning #binge read #binge #daniel larusso #samlarusso #miguel diaz imagine

389 notes · View notes

immaturityofthomasastruc · 4 years ago

Text

IOTA Reviews: Truth

Hey. Hey guys. Remember when I said I was feeling optimistic about this season? God, that was funny, wasn't it?

Let's just... Let's just get into the actual first episode of Miraculous Ladybug's fourth season: Truth.

We start off with Gabriel repairing the damaged Peacock Miraculous, which also restores Duusu's sanity, before he quickly gives it a test run by transforming with both it and the Butterfly Miraculous.

And good lord, the result looks atrocious. This is the design for the new and improved Hawkmoth? First off, the peacock feather eyepatch looks stupid. Is he trying to be the Phantom of the Opera? When Mayura had the same thing, it didn't completely cover her eye and matched her color scheme. It just doesn't match with this new design here. Other than the feather, the peacock aesthetic is barely visible here. The most we get is a peacock feather pattern on the back of his jacket. And then there's the popped collar and coattails, which only look more ridiculous than menacing. What made the original Hawkmoth design work was how sleek it was. It was simplistic, which reflected Gabriel's no-nonense personality. This just looks gaudy and unnecessary. How was this right after the amazing suit the animators gave Dragonbug?

So after Gabriel designs another stupid looking outfit, we cut to Marinette, who's still trying to figure out how the Miracle Ball works. She accidentally opens it, letting the Kwamis out, who wreak havoc on her room because Marinette suffering is going to be a big part of this episode. This just raises the question: Why can't Marinette simply order them back into the box like Su-Han did, or rather, is going to do? It's still not established what gives the Guardians authority over the Kwamis in the first place.

Two of the Kwamis accidentally start a video chat with her friends, leading to some more Unfunny Marinette Slapstick. But Alya thinks something's up with her friend.

youtube

Has Marinette even told Alya she's already in a relationship? Like, at all? It feels like all Alya is there for now is to remind the audience that Marinette and Adrien are “meant to be”, even if they're both in relationships right now. It's either that, or teasing Marinette over her crush and doing nothing to help her anxiety.

Marinette accidentally ends the call, before Luka calls to thank her for the pictures of Adrien one of the Kwamis accidentally sent him. Yeah, even though he barely appears in this episode (barring his scenes at Cat Noir), they're going to talk about Adrien a lot. Marinette continues to stammer around Luka (once again making fun of people who have speech issues), but Luka, being the ray of sunshine in any abysmal episode he's in, is completely understanding of it. He also sets up a pretty funny joke.

Apparently, Marinette missed her last date with Luka yesterday to see a movie that was re-released, Crocodile Heart, that was actually Jagged Stone's first movie. I wonder if it's connected to Crocodile Dundee.

While walking to the movie, Luka and Marinette play a game finishing the lyrics of a Jagged Stone song, establishing the former as a huge fan of the rock star. Before we can actually get an on-screen kiss for Lukanette, Mr. Pigeon attacks yet again, because I guess he's the first villain Hawkmoth wants to use in his new form.

Cat Noir sneaks up on Ladybug, causing her to accidentally throw him off a building before catching him, chastising him for the stupid jokes, yet Ladybug has to apologize for missing patrol with her partner, who casually acknowledges her new status as Guardian before the two go and fight Mr. Pigeon.

By the time they defeat him, the movie ends as Marinette gets back, disappointing Luka. We then get a montage of Marinette bailing on Luka multiple times to stop Akumas and Sentimonsters. To his credit, Luka is seriously torn up by all the times Marinette leaves him, showing he isn't just a calm soul.

After Marinette gets back, Luka takes her underneath a bridge to listen to the echoing sound of the water. Luka says that he never knew his father, and he would always go here to relax whenever he got stressed. He uses this to segue into asking Marinette where she constantly disappears to. He doesn't pressure her or anything like Alya, and he even says that if she still loves Adrien, he'll understand. He only asks for the truth. Unfortunately, Marinette can't tell him the truth, which just breaks the poor boy's heart.

Hawkmoth, now calling himself Shadowmoth, sends out an Akuma and an Amok for Luka at the same time, corrupting a guitar pick signed by Jagged Stone that Marinette gave him. And again, to Luka's credit, he fights back against Shadowmoth's influence at first, saying he trusts Marinette, but the temptation of knowing the truth is too good to pass up. He tells Marinette to run before being akumatized into Truth, assisted by the Sentimonster Pharro.

Truth's design is... pretty forgettable. The guitar pick being prominent around his neck is a nice touch, but it's just a generic black bodysuit with light blue highlights, and he has a third eye instead of a visible mouth. Pharro is also pretty boring, just a giant eye that freezes people in place so Truth can use his powers to make them tell the truth.

So Truth goes back to where everyone else was hanging out before he was akumatized and asks Alya to tell him the truth about Marinette.

Yeah, he's right, Alya. That's what you believe. We're supposed to treat Alya saying Marinette loves Adrien as an unbiased source. Truth asks Rose, Mylene, Tom, and Sabine what Marinette's secret is in this episode, and they all say she's in love with Adrien. That isn't actually the truth. It's like asking an atheist if there is a God. You know what they believe is the truth, but you don't know if that answer is actually the truth. Why not have them reveal other secrets about Marinette, giving the audience subtle character details? Like the writers could make someone say stuff like she still sleeps with a nightlight on, or that she secretly gets cookies from another bakery.

You know what also would have worked? Instead, have Truth catch Marinette before she transforms into Ladybug, ask who she actually loved, and then she'll blurt out Adrien's name, shocking both her and Luka. This could also make Ladybug's confidence in herself waver throughout the episode, wondering if she actually loved Luka at all. That would have been much better drama than what we're going to get instead.

Ladybug charges in to stop Truth, but is zapped by his truth ray, meaning she'll be forced to tell the truth when asked any question. Before she can admit her identity, Cat Noir saves her by retreating with her into the Seine, before reassuring Ladybug that he wouldn't force her to tell the truth by force. It's a nice bit that does show he respects Ladybug's secret, a far cry from his behavior in episodes like “Syren” and “Frozer”. Truth turns his attention to his mother Anarka, and asks who his father is.

youtube

Yes. Seriously. This is happening. Luka's father is actually Jagged Stone. I have... mixed feelings regarding this development, but my biggest question is, well... they're doing this now? They couldn't save this for another episode? I mean, was focusing on Luka and Marinette's relationship (something that had been established since Season 2) not good enough of a plot for the writers? Why shoehorn in this plot development? Why not save this part as a teaser for a future episode? You know, have Luka walk home, and remember what he made his mother say as Truth, setting up an episode focusing on his relationship with Jagged Stone.

But no! Instead, we're just supposed to go along with the plot taking a detour. I can't believe I'm saying this, but I don't want Jagged Stone to appear in this episode.

Truth heads over to the hotel where Jagged Stone lives and asks him if he's actually his father, the latter admitting that Anarka was right. Truth naturally isn't happy.

Well, to be fair, it's still a better title than his first drafts, like “It's Not My Fault the Condom Broke”, or “Up Yours, I'm Not Paying the Child Support, Bitch”.

Honestly, I can get what the writers are going for, and I like the idea of them trying to give some depth to a character who was mostly used for comic relief in earlier episodes. The problem is, as much as they want to portray Jagged as regretful for walking out on his family, it still doesn't excuse him for never even bothering to check in on his children and their mother while writing a song about it. He doesn't even bother to give some money to the person he knocked up.

I'm not saying a conflicted relationship like this can't work in animation (a decent example being Steven Universe slowly growing to resent his mother for her time as Pink Diamond and believing his birth was an excuse for her to avoid responsibility), but you need to put more emotion into this. I don't come from a broken home, but if it turned out my dad was, let's say, “Weird Al” Yankovic, even if I enjoy his music, I wouldn't be happy that he decided to come back now of all times without so much as a “hello”.

Truth goes to Marinette's house/bakery, and starts looking for Marinette's diary to find out her secrets. It's almost like the minor plotline that he has a deadbeat dad was only there to eat up airtime. Ladybug is still affected by Truth's powers, and not long after she summons her Lucky Charm, Cat Noir is zapped too, so he starts asking questions that basically amount to complimenting certain qualities he and Ladybug have. When Ladybug asks him what he thinks about her being Guardian, Cat Noir says nothing's changed between them. It's a nice strategy, very reminiscent of when they had to talk in rhyme when fighting Frightengale. I'm also glad they aren't trying to play up Cat Noir not feeling as important immediately now that his partner has access to top secret information.

Cat Noir Cataclysms Pharro, but rather than destroying the Sentimonster, it causes it to go out of control, accidentally paralyzing Truth with some manipulation from her and Cat Noir. Ladybug then de-evilizes both the Akuma and Amok, defeating Truth.

Marinette struggles to find the words to explain things to Luka, but he says that he'll be waiting for her when she's ready. While walking back to his houseboat, Luka runs into Jagged Stone, who promises to write a song together with him. Because I guess Shadowmoth was kind enough of him to not erase that part of his memory. And of course, Luka just accepts this despite the fact that Jagged was absent from his entire life.

So according to this show, you shouldn't bother to give mean people a second chance, but it's okay to give your deadbeat dad a second chance without harboring any negative feelings? I'm sorry, but I just don't see the point of shoving in this subplot if you're barely going to do anything with it before coming to a resolution. If there was more detail put into it, like if Luka just angrily lashed out at Jagged for abandoning his mom, I would have been more open to it. But in the end, this major character revelation is nothing more than filler the episode doesn't need.

We cut to what I'm surprised doesn't happen at the end of every episode given how much crap she gets, Marinette crying in her bed, saying it's too dangerous to have a boyfriend thanks to Shadowmoth. One of the Kwamis apparently doesn't know what crying is, so Marinette asks them to give her a hug, and the showrunners really need to find another song to play at the end, because the upbeat song playing doesn't go with Marinette crying at all. Imagine if this song played at the end of Deep Space Nine's “In the Pale Moonlight” when Captain Sisko confessed to basically being an accessory to the murder of an alien ambassador. It'd be tonally jarring, wouldn't it?

Even the ending image doesn't feature Luka and Marinette together. Instead, he's hugging it out with Deadbeat Stone like everything's okay.

So yeah, that's how the episode ends. In case you couldn't tell, I thought it was awful.

Remember in my New York Special review, where I theorized that Astruc rewrote it to focus more on Adrienette to stop people from shipping Lukanette? I have another theory that I also want to be taken with a grain of salt. I think this episode might have also been rewritten a little to follow up on that. I mean, why else would Astruc spend two seasons building up Luka's relationship with Marinette only to rip it away the episode after they officially get together? It would also explain why it feels like there's two separate episodes going on with how shoehorned in Jagged Stone is.

But other than that, this episode managed to screw up the one thing I was actually looking forward to about this season, seeing Marinette together with Luka. Even if they were going to break up, I was hoping there would at least be a character arc for Marinette where she realizes what she truly wants in a relationship isn't with Luka, leading into a relationship with Adrien where she feels more confident in herself. I was at least hoping their relationship would last more than A SINGLE EPISODE.

In fact, remember that tweet Astruc made soon after the New York Special, defending Marinette and Adrien essentially cheating on Luka and Kagami respectively?

What exactly was so complicated about Season 4 when you're immediately going to break up a couple you spent two seasons building up? Astruc's predictions are about as accurate as Uri Geller.

And then there's the fact that all everyone talks about this episode is Adrien. Marinette's wall is covered with pictures of him, Alya thinks her friend's abnormal behavior is because Adrien's in the room with her, Luka somehow knows Marinette loves Adrien and is actually cool with it, and everyone else thinks that it's her biggest secret. How convenient is it that all of this happens when barring his scenes as Cat Noir, Adrien doesn't appear in this episode barring a five second cameo?

When I was writing this episode, I saw a tweet Astruc made addressing a question someone posed, asking why Adrien didn't get as much screentime in the recent Shanghai Special. He said that “history does not revolve around him”.

youtube

For the love of God, writers, just give Marinette a plotline that doesn't revolve around her feelings for Adrien for once. People already started to get sick of it halfway through last season. Either have her confess and make the Love Square canon, or stop letting it dominate the main story for once. Why can't the writers just let her move on from Adrien for more than a single episode? Give her a goddamn break already.

I once again have to ask: what was the point of building up a relationship between Luka and Marinette since Season 2, if you're just going to break them up the second they get together? Why make a big deal about Marinette's conflicted feelings for both Adrien and Luka if you're just going to ignore her feelings for the latter in favor of the former? And remember, chronologically, this was right after the end of Chloe's “damnation arc”, another plotline that had been built up since Season 2 only to be aborted in favor of “sUbVeRtInG tHe AuDiEnCe'S eXpEcTaTiOnS”. It feels like the writers are trying to punish people for getting emotionally invested in any storyline that doesn't relate to the holy pairing that is the Love Square.

This episode is just frustrating to watch. Part of me knew Marinette and Luka were going to break up, but I didn't think it would be this bad, and it would be so soon. I'm glad they're on somewhat good terms, and I liked the buildup to Luka realizing Marinette might not trust him, but the timing of this episode is what baffles me the most. Is it any wonder I think Astruc may have rewritten this episode?

If any Lukanette shippers need to recover, I'd recommend checking out @mc-lukanette. They have some wholesome one-shots and fix-it fics for some of the weaker episodes of the series. In fact, she already wrote a fix-it to this abysmal episode that’s so much better than what we got.

142 notes · View notes

preciousthingsareprecious · 3 years ago

Text

Hearts Painted on Skin

Written for @damianwayneweek's Day 4. I selected Soulmates for this. I've never written a soulmate AU before, so this was fun to explore. Thanks @audreycritter for the idea! She flooded me with ideas for this week and I am so thankful for them all.

Characters: Damian and Dick

Summary: Damian has a mark just under his collarbone in the shape of a feather. Mother has always told him it was a scar. He was mostly okay with that until he came to Gotham and saw more marks. Marks that could not possibly be scars. He is starting to wonder if she lied, and why.

AO3 Link

Damian looked in the mirror, his shirt in his hands, prepared to pull on. For what felt like the thousandth time, he paused to look at the little mark on his skin. It was a feather, unmistakably. Damian had held enough up to it for comparison, whenever he could get his hands on one.

“It is a scar.” Mother’s voice echoed in his head.

It was a statement she’d told him time and time again. Each moment he brought it up. Every moment he looked at a League member who had a darker patch on their cheek, or wrist. Whenever his eyes lingered on flowers and swirls and shapes painted on fingers, arms, feet, and one time an eyelid. She would lean down, her voice soft, promising, full of truth, hard as law, and whisper those four words. It. Is. A. Scar.

“But others have similar.” Damian had asked once.

“Of course they do, they are fighters as well.” she had told him.

Damian believed her. Why would she lie? What reason had she to speak falsely about such a thing?

And yet.

He dropped half of the shirt to run his fingers over it, it was smooth as the skin underneath. It was skin, just of a darker color. A warm chocolate to his tan. It was not raised, not pinched. Nothing about it was creased or seemed to be anything but natural. As if it had always been there.

“But I do not remember getting it.” he had said again, in response to her once.

“You received it when you were young. A baby.”

He had furrowed his brow. Who would harm a baby? Even in the League? Especially Talia’s child? She’d never told him.

Damian tugged his shirt on, covering the spot with soft cotton and a bright pattern of animal silhouettes that somehow did not look childish. He ran his hand over the fabric, again pausing by the not-scar. His eyes flit to his dresser. In the drawer rested a bottle of concealer, matched to his skin tone exactly. It was empty now, used up and he had yet to replace it.

Normally, Damian would cover his not-scar with it. Careful layers blended to hide the fact that anything blemished his skin. It was a dangerous mark. Made when he was a baby, and carrying a weight on it that Mother insisted would draw catastrophe to him if it were seen.

He had complained about the concealer once, hating the time it took to apply and how it made his skin feel itchy sometimes.

Mother had run her fingers through his hair, gentle and loving, “I know, dear, but it is not safe to bring attention to. If others learned of it--you would be in danger.” She had even gone so far as to insist Damian not tell Grandfather.

It was a dangerous secret so terrifying the leader of the League of Assassins could not know. One Damian had to protect him from. At least, that was what Damian had thought then. Now, he wondered if Mother was protecting him from Grandfather.

He tugged on his shirt, testing the collar, even stretched it hid his mark with ease. No one would see it today. Perhaps his new concealer would arrive soon. Pennyworth had approved the order, as something useful to help them hide their identities better. Bruises from patrol were hard to explain, especially when Richard was under scrutiny for caring for him.

A knock immediately preceded, “Damian? You ready?”

Damian turned and nodded at Richard, “Yes, I believe I am.”

He looked over his brother, searching his skin for anything like Damian’s own mark, but beyond real scars, Richard was unblemished.

His brother, and guardian, smiled at him, “Great, let’s go! It’s a beautiful day and I promised you some ducks.”

Damian allowed a smile, “Yes you did.”

They spent the day at one of Gotham’s parks. Richard said they were doing recon to determine if Wayne Enterprise should fund a beautification project, but Damian was well aware his brother was using this as a day of relaxation. He was taking the day off work, and Damian had been excused from classwork for the outing.

He’d intended to take the recon seriously, by marking down elements both in favor of, and against selecting this park as the location for beautification funds. And for a little while Damian had. Then he’d flipped to a blank page in his notebook and started sketching the scene ahead of them.

Beside him, Richard lounged on their picnic blanket, reading what looked to be a romance book, and picking at grapes Pennyworth had packed for them. Normally, Damian would take the opportunity to berate him for laziness, but they had faced a number of difficult patrols over the past few nights and Damian was inclined to let him have his break.

Richard consistently drilled into him the importance of caring for one’s body all the time, mentally and physically. Damian knew this day would make Batman safer in the field, and also--he was kind of enjoying the quiet time. It was new to him, learning to relax and feel safe outside of the very few places he’d had at the League, but he could see the appeal to it. It did help keep him sharp, and he was always better rested after.

So he focused on on relaxing. He sketched for a while, drawing the pond first, and the trees around it. Then flipping the page to work on his figure drawing. As he drew, Damian’s eyes caught on marks. On birthmarks, and scars, and tattoos. Most importantly, his eyes locked onto various not-scars. Which is what they had to be.

He doodled them on another sheet. Drawing each unique one. Even those that were similar in style usually had little differences. A star might have one arm longer than the other, while one was perfect.

The only time he saw two of them match perfectly were on a couple pushing a stroller. The couple had little numbers on the back of their hands, one on their left, the other on the right. Damian pressed his lips together. They could have been tattoos, many people had them, but Damian couldn’t help but wonder.

He had been wondering since he’d arrived in Gotham months ago. People here all had marks. They had marks and they showed them off. Confused, Damian had messaged his mother to ask her. She’d said they were scars, tattoos, birthmarks that were meaningless. They were the marks of a different type of people than Damian had been raised around.

Distance had a way of stripping his mother’s voice of it’s old comforting truth.

But he had been busy learning. There was so much to learn in Gotham that had nothing to do with the mark on his body. Damian had spent more time frustrated about rules, and fearing he’d be sent back to a place that felt less and less like home every day. More and more time learning to be a good Robin to his Batman, and learning to trust Richard.

The question of his mark was rarely on Damian’s mind, and mostly relegated to moments he was alone or like this.

He glanced over at Richard. The man was still immersed in his book and Damian’s question died on his lips. He flipped his book to a new page and focused back on the pond, specifically the ducks swimming around on it. He had, after all, been promised some ducks.

That night they returned to patrol. Damian almost suggested they take a break, but they’d been working a drug trafficking case over the course of the week and were close to wrapping it up. If all went well during this patrol then they could rest. Damian would insist upon it if Richard did not.

They staked out an old appliance store. Richard figured the drugs were being shipped out either in the appliances or the crates. They just needed to intercept a shipment, incapacitate the team working on it, and confirm the drugs were there. Then they could call in Gordon and be done with all this.

Batman and Robin were crouched together. Richard had declared that they should stick close tonight. Damian wondered if it was because he knew they both were still feeling a little worn down. He could read it in Richard’s body language, and he knew his mentor could read the same in his.

After around twenty or so minutes, a truck pulled up to the building and the shipping door opened to allow it to back in. They watched for a moment, confirming no other trucks were on their way, and then both pulled back from the edge of the roof they’d been peering over.

Richard pointed to a large vent they could drop in on the store from. Damian nodded, and followed his mentor. The slipped into the vents, then moved like mice over to where the shipping area was located. Damian paused behind Richard as the man peered through an exhaust vent to watch the proceedings below.

“They’ve started unloading.” he whispered, then tapped something on his cowl and was silent for another long moment, “And they’re talking about the drugs.”

“So we go?” Damian asked.

“I’d say so.” Richard said, “Stick close tonight Robin, I’ve seen a couple guns swinging around and I don’t want to explain a bullet wound to Al tonight.”

“The same goes for you.” Damian responded.

“There’s twelve by my count, two of those are still in the car. Try to get to them first. I’ll grab the guys with the guns,” Richard directed.

“Affirmative.” Damian agreed. Taking out the ones that could remove the product, and the ones that were the most dangerous first was a good idea.

With that, Richard kicked out the vent, tossed a handful of gas pellets, and they dropped into the smoke.

Damian bolted through it for the truck. He was able to easily dodge the men and women in the room, now sent into a flurry of action and confusion over the smoke. He ducked around the driver’s seat of the truck and yanked the door open.

The man inside was shocked, and Damian was able to use that element of surprise to yank the man out of the front, sending him tumbling to the ground. A few quick blows had him unconscious.

Damian straightened, and turned back towards the truck cab. His eyes went wide, seeing the passenger leaning over both seats, a gun aimed out the door at him. Damian dodged to the side as the gun went off. Pain sliced through his arm as the bullet nicked him, but at least it hadn’t hit him in anything vital.

He swore, Richard had just told him not to get shot.

He snarled at the man, immediately returning fire with a batarang. It caught fingers, and the gun went tumbling to the floor of the cab. Damian then lurched forward, and dragged the passenger out of the car. Twisting his arm as he fell to drag it up behind his back.

In another movement, Damian grabbed the man’s other hand and yanked it behind his back, securing them both with a zip tie.

“Stay.” he growled into his ear, “Or you will regret it.”

He climbed up into the cab and jammed a pole under the steering wheel, locking it in place to keep it from moving if anyone tried to drive the truck.

With that, he turned back into the fray. At this point the smoke had begun to clear. Damian could see that Batman had knocked out a few men already, they were down to 8 enemies to fight. Richard’s warning to stay close was fresh in Damian’s mind, his throbbing arm a reminder that maybe his Batman had wanted him to not quite jump ahead like he had. But then again, Damian should have been able to handle two men in a truck.

He huffed, and fell into line beside Batman.

“Robin, you get the car under control?”

“It will not be going anywhere.” Damian confirmed.

“Good.” There was something tight in Richard’s voice Damian didn’t recognize, but there wasn’t time to explore the reason for that the other men and women were on them already.

Damian had to admit, he and Richard worked well as a team. They were efficient, and quick. Richard’s insistence on having them run drills and practice together before they’d ever gone out into the field had paid off early on, and since then they’d only built on that success.

They managed to take out the rest of the criminals quickly, and they prevented any of them from escaping. After that, Richard directed Damian to zip tie the unconscious thugs while he checked out the boxes of goods.

As Damian was finishing up with the last man, Richard called out, “Found them! I’m calling it in.”

“Good, I am finished here.”

They paired back up outside the building as Batman called the car to their location. Damian had his cape tugged over his arm in an attempt to hide the bleeding, but as they waited, a breeze caught him by surprise and tugged it up, and out of the way.

“Robin!” Batman said, “Why didn’t you tell me you’d been injured?”

Damian tugged his cape back in place, scowling, “You told me not to get shot.”

Then his eyes caught on Richard’s left arm, it too was visible and bleeding. Damian pointed at him, accusing.

“You as well! How could you not tell me you’d been injured?”

Richard opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again, “I-For the same reason as you. It happened right at the start.”

That must have been why Damian hadn’t heard it, they’d been shot at roughly the same time.

His brother shook his head, “Amazing, we both managed to do the one thing we didn’t want to. Alf’s going to have a field day with this one.”

When they returned to the bunker Alfred directed them both to a shared cot.

“Shirts off young masters, I’ll need to dress both of those wounds.”

Damian rolled his eyes and started tugging off his vest, then undershirt. It wasn’t until it was off that he remembered he still had not covered up his mark. Hopefully they would lump it in with the other scars across his chest.

It was not to be however. Next to him, Richard had stilled. He was staring at Damian’s chest. Damian could feel it, his eyes locked on the feather just under his collarbone.

He froze, his spine stiffening. He didn’t know what to say. His mother’s excuses felt like lies on his tongue and he knew he couldn’t give them to Richard. The man wouldn’t believe him for a moment.

Richard’s gaze was strangely soft. Not angry or upset or any of the things Damian had come to expect from what someone might do when they saw his not-scar. It made him want to squirm in his seat, but he was Damian al Ghul-Wayne. He did not squirm.

“Damian--” Richard’s voice was terribly soft, his eyes glittering, “I had no idea.”

Damian swallowed, there it was. The sadness that he had thought might come. It was dangerous. Seeing it put people in danger, and Richard had seen it, and Damian--Damian did not want him in any kind of danger.

He reached up to put his hand over the mark, and looked down, “I am sorry--I forgot. Had I remembered I hadn’t covered it I would not have--I would have dressed my arm on my own.”

“Do you not want me to see it?” Richard sounded hurt.

Damian looked back up at him, surprised. Richard sounded like he did when Damian was particularly cruel. He tried not to be that way sometimes, but--well pain or frustration drove him to saying things he regretted.

“I--Mother told me no one was allowed to.” He pressed his palm against it a little tighter.

“Why?” Now Richard sounded confused.

Damian was confused. Shouldn’t he know? The way Mother spoke of it had made Damian believe it to be something that anyone would recognize. A black mark.

“It is dangerous.” Damian said simply, “Just seeing it would put myself and others in danger.”

Richard’s brow was furrowed. Behind him, Alfred cleared his throat.

“Master Damian, might I ask, do you know of soul marks?”

“What?” Damian asked, looking up at him, “No, I have never heard of the term.”

Something twisted in his stomach. Sour and warm. He was certain now Mother had lied. He didn’t know why she had lied, but it was making him sick. The warmth was a kind of hope. An answer to the questions plaguing him since he’d arrived.

“A soul mark is a mark each of us are born with. It is to help us find the person most suited for us in the world. Some people never meet their soulmates, but find love all the same but others do and their marks always match.”

Damian remembered the couple he’d seen in the park, their matching hands.

“So then--this is one of those? Not a scar?”

He let his hand drop, fingers grazing the feather.

“I can confirm that it is indeed a soul mark.” Alfred said.

Damian frowned at him, “Have you seen its match?”

Alfred smiled at him. Richard cleared his throat and Damian returned his attention to him. Understanding now blooming, Richard had thought he’d keep something like a soul mark from him. Had believed Damian wouldn’t want him to know something so personal. He must apologize.

Before he could get the words out, Richard had tugged his own shirt off and there, under his collar bone and just above his heart was a feather. It was the feather. Damian’s feather. The one he had seen every day in the mirror. The one he’d traced a hundred times wondering about.

“Oh.” Damian said.

And then, “I don’t understand. I--we would not be romantically compatible?”

Richard snorted, “Soulmates don’t have to be romantically involved, Dames. It can be totally platonic. Often best friends will have matching marks, or a father and son. It just means--well it means we fit together in a special way. That we’ll always be precious to each other.”

Damian could have told Richard that, and it seemed his body had already done the work for him. Or fate? Damian felt he may get a headache if he tried to figure this out.

The point was, Richard was the most important person in his life. He just--he’d had no idea that it had been declared before he’d even met the man. Before he even knew that they would get to the point where they’d trust each other with their lives. It felt right. Instead of a declaration these marks were a promise.

Richard had chosen to love Damian with his whole heart before even knowing who Damian would be to him. And Damian? Well Damian had done the same.

“I hate to break up this moment, but you are both still bleeding.” Alfred said, “You may continue to talk but I really must begin caring for your wounds.”

Damian blushed, “Yes, of course.”

Instead of talking, they fell into silence, both Damian and Richard lost in their own thoughts. Soon, Alfred was finished, and had dismissed both of them.

Damian looked from Richard to the elevator that would return them to the penthouse and back, “I still have questions.” he said, not wanting to be sent to bed with his mind still racing.

“Me too.” Richard said, “How about some cocoa? We can talk upstairs.”

“That sounds nice.”

They moved up to the penthouse, and Damian sat at the bar, his hands pressed into the marble countertop of it. They’d both dressed in pajamas, but even with a shirt tugged over his soul mark --and how nice it was to have a real word for it-- he still felt exposed. Raw. Like there was something new and strange about him.

But nothing had happened with it. It was still there, still the same color and size. Still just a part of him that he’d always had.

“So.” Richard said, taking the seat next to him, and sliding a mug of steaming hot chocolate over, “You have questions?”

“As do you.” Damian said, taking the mug to hold between his palms, “Why don’t you ask yours first?”

His brother hummed, “I think yours will probably answer mine, but let’s start with something easy or maybe not easy, but, well what do you know about soulmates or marks?”

Damian nodded, “I--Mother never explained soulmates to me. I know the term only in a general sense. A phrase used not literally, but figuratively to describe two people romantically entwined. None of my teachers spoke of it, and no one at the League did either.”

He tapped his mug, “I was not blind, I saw the marks. But I believed them to be other things. Scars, birthmarks, or--well I did not have a word for what they were.” Damian could not look at Richard, it was silly. He should have asked more, pressed Mother for answers or done his own research, “It was not until I arrived in Gotham that I saw so many and began to wonder. Surely not everyone in the world could have gotten tattoos? But--not all were visible and so I did not ask.”

Richard was quiet, listening and taking in Damian’s words with rapt attention. He hadn’t even sipped his cocoa. Damian took a gulp of his, just to do something that wasn’t watching his brother.

“And yours?” Richard asked, “What did Talia tell you about it?”

“I--Mother told me mine was dangerous.” Damian pressed his fingers to his chest again, “I was not to talk about it or ask about it. It was supposed to be a scar, from an attack on me when I was a baby. But I always knew it was not. Still, she was insistent I not tell anyone or let others see. Especially Grandfather.”

Damian frowned, “I thought for a long while it was to protect him. That I was cursed.”

He looked up at Richard, into his brother’s eyes, and knew at last why Mother had been so insistent he stay silent, “But I was wrong. Mother was protecting me, and you. If Grandfather knew I had a soulmate, he would have hunted the world for them, and then used them against me.”

Damian did not think he could have stood having Richard in danger because of him. He hated the very thought that anything would happen to his brother. Especially because of him.

He sipped his drink again, “Mother used to rub her wrist. I saw a mark there once. A little bat. I never asked her about it, and she never offered to tell me--Richard? Do the marks have special meaning? Or are they obscure?”

“They do have a meaning, there’s a lot of meaning in their placement and look and well everything.”

“Teach me?”

His brother smiled, “Of course. I’d be happy to.”

They worked their way through their mugs, and second rounds while Richard spoke. He talked about how soul marks that were hidden usually meant that the relationship was more intimate, but not always. How marks mirrored each other, one on the left, one on the right so that the pair could be face to face and match, like looking in a mirror. How if one’s soulmate died the mark faded to be almost invisible or if their relationship broke and shattered how it would line with cracks.

“Just because someone has a soulmate doesn’t mean that things will work out perfectly. We are human after all.” Richard said.

Some people could be born without marks, and very rarely one would change, and shift to take on the form of another. Most often that happened if a soulmate had died, but sometimes it happened for other reasons.

“And the meaning?” Damian pressed, wanting to know, to understand why a feather? Why this mark on his skin and not something else?

His brother hummed, “There’s books and stuff out on their meanings, especially for marks of similar styles. But when it all comes down to it, the meaning really comes from the pair. Some people know instantly why a mark looks the way it does. A shared memory or love of something. Maybe it is the first line a lover traced across another’s wrist, or an idea that is important to them.”

He leaned forward, elbow on the bar’s counter, “Want to take a guess at ours?”

Damian furrowed his brow, “Robin?” he guessed, “or your previous title, Nightwing is indicative of a bird and flight?”

Richard nodded, “Those are good thoughts. I’ve always looked at it as a symbol of flying and of freedom. But feathers have other meanings too. Trust, loyalty, hope, a connection between the creature who had the feather and where it has gone now.”

“I like those.” Damian said, and then looked down at his mug, “You have given me many of those things.”

“And you’ve done the same for me.” Richard said, “We don’t need to name why it is a feather you know. We can feel the meaning here.” he pressed a palm to his heart, “and just know.”

Damian nodded, “I am glad I share it with you. And--I am glad I did not know before now.”

His brother frowned, then nodded, “I see, if you did, and we’d have seen each other’s marks, then you might have thought our relationship was because of the soul mark?”

“Is that silly?” he said, peering up.

“No. It’s a worry a lot of people have.” Richard reached out and took Damian’s free hand, “But soul marks don’t make relationships Damian. They just indicate potential, and while they are incredibly accurate in that indication, it’s up to us what we do with it.”

Damian squeezed Richard’s hand, “I see. We are--doing well?”

Richard laughed, “I’d say so. We had a rough start, but yes, Dames. I think we’re doing just fine.”

Damian smiled, “Excellent. Thank you for answering my questions.”

“Of course.” His brother stretched, “Now, it’s later than either of us should be up. We can chat more tomorrow.”

“Yes.” Damian said.

They got up, rinsed their cups and moved to the hall with the bedrooms. Damian paused, hesitating before he entered his own.

“I was planning to suggest we take the night off patrol, but our injuries have cemented that. Perhaps we can return to the park tomorrow?” he said.

Richard smiled, “Sounds like a plan.” In a motion he tugged Damian forward into a tight hug and pressed a kiss to his forehead, “Love you, kiddo.”

Damian returned the hug, “You as well.”

#damianwayneweek2021 #Damian Wayne #Dick Grayson #day 4 #soulmates #platonic soulmates #soul marks #fluff #canon typical violence #hurt/comfort #injury #precious posts #fanficiton

84 notes · View notes

alicemitch09writes · 4 years ago

Text

skinny love

pairing: Kuroo Tetsurou x reader

summary: 6 months later. Was he too late?

author’s notes: This is a direct sequel to first love and part of a trilogy also aptly named ‘first love’ ugh, i am so unoriginal. Please go read that first before this, otherwise you’ll be confused.

also available on ao3.

disclaimer: i own NOTHING but the plot.

His feet feel like lead as he trudged to the vending machine, adamant on getting coffee. It was only Monday. The smallest sounds of coin drops and beeps were making his head hurt.

Taking his first sip of his coffee, he walked around the quiet halls.

He hated hospitals.

Actually, they weren't that bad, having everything it needed to cater to the patient's needs. But it was a façade to their impending doom. And he hated it. Hated the way doctors and nurses would say with practiced ease that everything will be alright – when it won't.

They mean well, they really do, but they were a painful reminder of how fragile life was – how easy it can be taken away.

Reaching Room #423, he turned the knob, finding (Name) in the same state she's been the past six months. The door shuts quietly behind him, back resting against it.

"Tetsu, have you been eating?"

He could almost hear her voice, filled with worry of how thin he is. She always did that, nagging him like a mom to eat if he wanted to win. Funny she thought that, thinking more of his (and the team's) welfare's than her own. (Name) was always that kind.

Instead, the image of that beautiful girl was replaced with one lying on the hospital bed – limp and lifeless.

(Name) didn't belong here, not in this hospital nor in that bed she was lying in. No.

She deserved to be home, in her room surrounded by her instruments, fussing herself with her studies, that new song she wanted to learn, or managing a pack of rowdy boys.

He didn’t know how long he just stood there before he heard a knock at the door. Lazily turning his body, he opened the door; his actions seemed robotic, staring at two familiar faces.

"Hey man," Bokuto greeted, balloons in different colors and shapes (there was one in the shape of an owl) in hand, worry in his eyes. "Wow, you look like shit."

"Thanks." He said, taking a sip of his coffee.

"That wasn't very nice, Bokuto-san." Akaashi scolded, appearing behind the salt-and-pepper-haired teen with flowers in his hands.

Too tired to argue, he stepped aside, letting them in. Closing the door behind him, he watched the two eyeing the unconscious girl, hearing Bokuto sighing while Akaashi dutifully went straight for the vase, intending to replace the flowers.

He plopped down on his seat, canned coffee still in hand.

"But seriously man," Bokuto called, tying the balloons next to the side table. "you look terrible."

Kuroo closed his eyes, exhaling through his nose.

"When was the last time you went out?"

"Bokuto-san." Akaashi called in warning, appearing from the toilet with a vase filled with clean water.

"I'm serious!" Kuroo draped an arm over his eyes as if to hide the bags underneath. "Dude, you barely left since. Day in, day out, you're here but never at home. Nowhere else but here. You even ditched your first year of college!"

"I won't want to leave her," Kuroo said, still not moving from his spot.

Bokuto frowned at his friend, arms crossed. "I'm not saying that you should, I'm saying (Name)-chan wouldn't like to see you this way."

(Name).

Sighing, Kuroo slumped forward, arms propped on his knees, staring at the sterile ground.

"We're just worried about you, Kuroo."

That must be the umpteenth time someone's told him that – his mom, his dad, his older sister, Kenma, Coach Nekomata, the team. But still, his resolve won't change.

Taking a long sip, he met both stares from Bokuto and Akaashi, who had just finished with the flowers.

"I'm not leaving her." he said in finality, turning to the sleeping girl. There were a lot of things he wanted to tell her, a lot. And he wanted to be the first person she sees when she wakes up, the first person to see her wake.

Sighing exasperatedly, hands on his hips, Bokuto resigned. His friend was stubborn, but he had an iron resolve. "I know you won't. Figured as much."

"Then why do you still bother?"

Smirking at the raven-haired teen, he says with a shrug. "Because bro, you matter to me."

Kuroo put a hand to his heart, touched. "Bro."

"Bokuto-san just wanted to act cool every once in a while," Akaashi coolly said, opening the drapes. That earned a loud, familiar call from his former captain. Kuroo smiled, some things never change.

"But seriously dude, you could use a bath because you smell like shit."

Akaashi didn't need to scold him then as Bokuto received a (friendly) punch to the gut from Kuroo.

Six months.

That's how long he was suffering, how long he had been tortured by the mere thought of never seeing her smile again, of never hearing her laugh again, of never having her around again – of never seeing her again.

The word cancer stuck to his head was like a punch to the gut, pummeling him inside out with every step he took. Never mind the burning pain of his muscles from a day's worth of match, never mind finally giving their coach the chance to witness the 'Battle at the Dumps' match even though they lost, never mind that his high school life had officially come to an end – they didn't matter at this point. He just wanted to see her.

And the first time he saw her – dressed in a hospital gown, with tubes sticking to her body connected to machines that kept her alive, he was crushed. As if he were a porcelain doll smashed into a million pieces, each fragment breaking into smaller pieces.

He nearly broke down at the sight of her. She was beautiful as ever, yet to see her in that situation broke his heart.

(Name) had been operated; the chances of her survival were slim. But the only thing Kuroo could think was how small (Name) looked in that big, white bed.

Picking her hands, he noted how small they were – how he could practically see and feel her bones. Threading his finger through hers, he brought them to his cheek, relishing in her warmth. These were the same fingers that cared for him each time he'd earn a bruise or a scratch, the same hands that brushed his hair when he was sleepy – gentle touches that made him think that she was an angel. Slim fingers that did magic with every instrument she held.

He always knew she was small – fragile, even – but it only clicked to him now as to why that was the case. Ironic that he was the perceptive guy, inside and outside the court, yet he failed to notice his best friend's wellbeing. How did he miss to notice how little she would eat, how easily tired she was, or how low her stamina was? He was supposed to be the smart guy, for crying out loud!

He wanted to hit himself, to numb himself of the pain.

The moment he found out, he wouldn't stop crying, hating himself every minute of every day.

(Name) wouldn't wake up.

(Name). Wouldn't. Wake. Up.

"Kuroo," a voice called, quiet and low, one he knew all too well. Weakly raising his head, he looked over his shoulder, meeting a familiar blonde teen.

Kenma looked at his best friend worriedly, a frown in his face. "You should go home." The raven-haired lad shook his head, Kenma sighed. "(Name) wouldn't like that."

"I'm not leaving her." he says, voice raspy.

Kenma stared, eyes narrowing. "Have you been eating at least?"

"I've been snacking on what Auntie gives me," he rubs his eyes tiredly, stretching his arms over his head. "I'll be fine."

His dark hair was greasy, sticking out to different directions – messier than usual; there were bags under his eyes. The clothes he's been wearing were days old now, but it's not like he leaves the hospital. How long has he had proper sleep or shower?

"You're not." Kenma pointed out, walking towards the bed, opposite to where his friend was. He arranges the plushies from various game characters beside her bed, dusting a few. When he was done, he stood next to the unconscious girl, eyes dancing with sorrow.

Kuroo watched his friend carefully, a question burning his head. "How long have you known?"

Kenma blinked. Deciding to sit down, he met Kuroo's gaze. "A while now." He answers as if anticipating the question. "(Name) was the most secretive amongst us three; I thought you'd have known first." Shrugging, he adjusted her blanket. "But you didn't." Kuroo wanted to laugh at that because it was half-true. They both knew he was far more observant than he let on.

Sighing, the blonde props his arm on a nearby desk, resting his head on his palm. "Knowing her secret was like carrying a heavy burden because it's her secret and your knowledge of her sickness."

Frowning, he asked. "She didn't know that you knew?"

The blonde shook his head without looking at him. "Like I said, it was a burden on my part as well. Plus, that'd be disrespecting (Name). And I can't do that to her."

Something likened to rage burned within him, he was standing before his best friend before he knew it. "And you didn't bother to tell me?"

"It's not my secret to tell." Kenma says easily, carefully setting her clamped hand aside.

"But we're best friends!" Kuroo's voice rose, earning a scoff from the blonde as he turned to meet his gaze, eyes almost challenging.

"Don't you think that'd be disrespecting (Name)'s decision?" Kuroo was practically shaking now, hands balled into a fist. "Besides, it's not like you cared to begin with-"

Kuroo had grabbed him by the collar, raising him to his level. "I dare you to say that again." He seethed hotly, eyes burning.

Kenma didn't falter, eyes glowering. "What's the matter, Kuroo? Upset that for once, you failed to gain information before me to break someone, to use it to your advantage? Or are you just mad that (Name) couldn't trust you enough?"

"Shut up!" his voice rose, grip tightening.

Steely gold hues met his, challenging and mocking. "Then are you guilty because it's practically your fault she's in this situation?"

That was the final straw.

Taking his hand back, Kuroo was just about to smack Kenma in the face when blaring sound rang through the room. The two automatically turned to her, panicked, Kuroo dropped Kenma, ran for the intercom while Kenma stared at (Name)'s body, not knowing what to do.

A little while later, a nurse came rushing in.

Kuro and Kenma stepped aside, watching the nurse attend to their best friend each holding their breath. Kuroo was wondering if he should've called for her doctor, but after a while, the nurse sedated her, (Name)'s body relaxed.

The gentle beep of the heart monitor demonstrated her calmness.

"She'll be alright, just a little stressed is all." The nurse says kindly, much to their relief.

They sighed in unison, rooted on the spot even as the nurse left the room.

(Name)'s breathing slowly through the calming silence that came, followed by the purring of the machines and quite chattering outside.

The two best friends stood there, watching the unconscious girl. Kuroo and Kenma slumped against the wall, the raven-haired teen slipping to the ground. The tension between the two was still there, something that was rare even for them. In the many years they knew each other, not once have they got into a fight this extreme. And even if a fight did ensue, there was only one person who could bring it to a stop, one person they'd bow to other than Yaku.

"She'd kill us by now," Kenma sighs, breaking the silence.

Kuroo snorted at that, hiding the smile on his face.

Eventually, he broke into fits of laughter. Kenma joined in.

"She'd give us a litany," Kuroo added, voice thick. "then she'd take us by the ear."

Kenma shuddered, rubbing at his ear. Kuroo did the same.

"You started it though," Kenma told him, bluntly.

Kuroo narrowed his eyes at him. "But you fanned the flames."

They burst into chuckles, tension dying down.

A little while later, the room was filled with members of the Nekoma team – bringing flowers, fruits, and toys. Each member, especially Yamamoto, Inuoka, and Lev, fawned over their unconscious manager while Fukunaga fussed over the snacks. Yaku had to keep everyone in line.

The best friends exchanged a look, knowing that if (Name) were awake, she couldn't be any happier.

Someone was waking him, gently shaking his shoulders. Raising his head from his folded arms, he was met with warm (eye color) eyes. "Tetsuroo-kun." The woman greeted kindly.

"Auntie," He stood up in greeting, pulling his wrinkled clothes down. "Good evening."

Her smile, it reminded him of hers, how he missed her smile. "Good evening." Walking across the room, she dropped her bag and sat on the chair next to her daughter, patting a hand over her cheek. "Any news?" she asked, looking up at him.

He shook his head, hands tightening. "Just the same."

The smile remained, eyes never losing its light. "Then she's still alright."

Just staring at the woman made him wonder how she could still be so optimistic about the situation. It must be hard on her, her only daughter was under coma after her operation, yet she never loses hope. She was just like (Name). And duh, she was her mom!

"Have you eaten?"

He nodded. "Yeah." He lied, tucking his hands on his pockets.

She stared, her smile waning a bit, worry in her eyes, then nods.

"Where is Uncle?" he asked, staring at freshly cut flowers next to her bed – carnations, care of the Fukorodani team.

"Oh, just parking the car. He'll be here in a while."

Kuroo nods, not knowing what else to say. So he sits by the couch, watching Auntie talked to her daughter, telling her how her classmates missed her (evidenced by the balloons and cards surrounding her bed), how their neighbors have as well, how quiet the house has been lately without her playing, the little things. But to her, they were all that mattered.

He hung his head, not wanting to watch any longer. He could hear the sadness in her voice, the longing, and yet, she still hopes. How could she?

"I'll be right back, Auntie." He announces, making his way out before she could reply, missing the worried look on her face.

Six months.

Six excruciating months.

He's endured and suffered that long.

But still, she wouldn't wake up.

Splashing water to his face, he then looked up, finding a miserable guy staring back at him.

Then are you guilty because it's practically your fault she's in this situation?

No matter what they say, it was his fault she was in this situation. It was his fault she's lying in that hospital bed, unconscious. It was his fault.

He wanted to punch his reflection so bad, but he was tired (physically and emotionally).

He didn't like hospitals, hated how clinically clean it was and how dreadful it was. Life came and go here.

Reaching for the door to her room, he paused.

What good would it be for him to be here?

He didn't deserve to be here keeping guard and watching her.

What was he even doing here?

"Aren't you going to go in?" a voice called behind him.

Turning, he was met with a kind gaze from a bespectacled (hair color) man. Their kind disposition ran in the family, he didn't deserve it.

At a loss for words, Kuroo mumbled unintelligent words, the man laughed heartily.

"Looks like you need a bite," although shorter than the teen, he wrapped his arm around his shoulders, steering them away. "come, you need to eat."

Kuroo gulped, staring down at the meal before him, then at the smiling man. There were a few people at the cafeteria – a few nurses and doctors on break, a kid with his mother, some teens, and them.

A comfortable silence forms between them despite having fidgeting in his presence.

The smell of strong spice was making his mouth water, aptly reminding him of the lie he told Auntie. Truth was, he snacked on some fruits given by his family earlier that day, that and coffee. A little while later, his stomach growled. The old man chuckled heartily. "Go on," he encourages.

Timidly, he nodded, saying his grace before digging in.

His eyes widened at the burst of flavors in his mouth, almost forgetting what an amazing cook the man was. He chewed carefully, distracting himself with the texture and taste.

He hadn't noticed the old man leaving until he came back with a can of orange juice for both of them. Kuroo muttered a 'thanks', chugging down the beverage.

"It's so good to see you eat," he tells him, eyes crinkling. "and no, you can't lie to me. I know you, Tetsuroo-kun." He laughed.

It was like he was eight again. It was always like that with this man, this amazing man, who held instruments like magic, the same man who was the father of the girl lying in this very hospital bed, comatose, because of him.

He chewed slowly, eyes dropping. Eventually, he swallowed but didn't reach for more even though the bento box was still full.

"Oh, are you done eating?" asked the confused man.

He almost wanted to laugh.

These past months weren't easy on all of them, especially for them. They could have blamed him for why their daughter was here, but they didn't. Instead, they pulled themselves together for her and for him.

"Thank you, uncle." He says instead, meaning it. Kuroo grinned at the confused man before digging in again.

He shook his head at the teen before him, chuckling heartily. He studies the young boy before him, remembering the look on his face when he saw her comatose state – it was the look of absolute heartbreak.

When he was done eating, they packed slowly, making slow talk (although it was more of him doing the talking). They were standing outside her room, but before they entered, he called him.

"She wouldn't like it you know," he tells him, sincerely. "seeing you like this, filled with guilt and hate. She would've wanted you to be happy, even if she's not the one causing it."

There was a sharp tug in his heart at the last line. "But she makes me happy." It was barely a whisper, tears starting anew. "But I didn't let her know that."

His eyes were stinging with tears, body trembling.

The older man patted his shoulder, squeezing in assurance.

While waiting for her to wake up, he often talked to her about their childhood, some dumb memories, and some good ones. He even told her of the events that transpired during nationals, not knowing that she was watching via live television.

"You should've been there," he said quietly, letting his fingers play with her growing (hair color) hair. "the team wouldn't be anything without our manager."

Some days, he'd read to her, having scavenged through her room from her yet to-read pile. He had to endure going through books that were not of his genre (especially romance), but in the end, found himself enjoying them.

With each passing day, the hope of her waking up was waning. He feared she might never wake up. The waiting was killing him, unnerving and destroying him. But he didn't give up hope, could never. He could wait years if he has to, just to see her (eyes color) eyes again, hear her laugh again, and be with her.

"Oh my, it's that boy again! He's become a familiar face around here."

"How long has he been visiting her?"

"About six months now, since that girl was brought in. He practically lives here."

"Poor thing, looks like he hasn't eaten or slept for days!"

"And he barely leaves her room. And when he does, it's only for a few hours or a day, and then he's back."

"Seriously?"

"The poor boy, the pain he's been through."

"And she might never wake up."

"I don't care what they say," he says against their intertwined fingers. "you are perfect to me. And I'm not leaving you."

It was barely midnight, but he couldn't help it. The conversation he heard earlier was getting to him. They didn't know anything about him or her. It was none of their business.

But to say that she was never going to wake up?

No.

He didn't like to think about it.

She was going to wake up.

He knew it.

But honestly? He wasn't so sure anymore.

Shifting in his seat, he threw his head back, massaging at his throbbing temples. When he opened his eyes, he noted something from the corner of his eye. Her ukulele was lying beside her; he stared at it long and hard before deciding to pick it up. Upon closer inspection, he noticed scratches and a Band-Aid on the crack of the soundboard. Something tugged inside him; he knew exactly where that crack came from.

His grip tightened.

Kenma was right, he was selfish.

He was so selfish.

Absentmindedly, he played with the strings, filling the silence. And then, he began adjusting the chords. It used to drive (Name) nuts, especially when she found how out of tune her ukulele was because of him. He smiled, he always loved seeing her cute face pinched into a frown – she was so cute like that.

Satisfied with the pitch, his calloused fingers began to play a few strings. The song was slow, gentle.

I wanna make you smile, whenever you're sad

Carry you around when your arthritis is bad

All I wanna do, is grow old with you

I'll get your medicine when your tummy aches

Build you a fire if the furnace breaks

Oh it could be so nice, growing old with you

He loved her.

Cliché as it is, he did.

Truth of the matter is, he's always been in love with her.

From the first moment they met, the first time he saw her smile, the first time she scolded him and Kenma, the first time she fussed over them, the first time he saw her play an instrument, to the first time she made him realize how many years have passed that he was so, so, in love with her.

So hopelessly in love with (Name).

Except, he was scared to risk their friendship – scared that she might not feel the same way he did.

I'll miss you

Kiss you

Give you my coat when you are cold

Need you

Feed you

Even let ya hold the remote control

Six months without her was absolute torture.

She was part of every significant event in his life; he couldn't remember spending a day without her in it

Because life without her? He couldn't even imagine.

It was meaningless.

If he could, he'd turn back time and make it right.

So let me do the dishes in our kitchen sink

Put you to bed if you've had too much to drink

I could be the man who grows old with you

I wanna grow old with you

The last lines of the song came out barely a whisper.

Releasing a shaky breath, he hung his head, tears streamed freely. "I've waited so long to play that."

It was the cheesiest song from a lousy movie. But the song, he had to admit, was one of his low-key favorites. The lyrics to the song were so sincere and heartfelt. He finally understood why love songs were made – to say the words everyone failed to say or supplement their feelings.

If only she was awake, then she'd hear his feelings.

Putting her ukulele away, he takes her hand in his, holding it close as he cried. "Please, wake up."

He buried his face into her hand, kissing it as he repeatedly begs for her to wake up, tears still streaming. "There's so much I want to tell you, so much I want you to know."

Taking her hand, he places a quick kiss to her palm, pressing it against his chest. "Feel that? That's my heart and it's beating for you."

His heart was beating fast, as it always did when (Name) was around.

Every single thing she does wonders is magic to him, especially with the way he captivated her the moment their eyes met. He missed it all – her smile, her touch, her eyes, her laugh, in general, he missed her.

So much it hurt.

Because the possibility of her never waking up was a factor that scared him every single day for the past six months. He didn't want their last meeting to be of him being an ass to her.

His heart skipped a beat.

He looked up at her, then at the hand on his chest, he swore he felt her hand twitch.

#kuroo tetsurou x reader #reader insert #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo tetsurou angst #kuroo x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyuu!! x reader #hq #hq x reader #hq fanfic #haikyuu!! fanfic #haikyuu!! angst #hq angst #nekoma #kozume kenma

141 notes · View notes