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mysterystarz · 3 years ago

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the romance checklist:

summary: a chance meeting with kageyama has you striking up a bet to see if one of you could fall in love with the other before the year was up. cue the romance checklist, a piece of paper that molded your fate and his.

pairing: kageyama tobio x g!n reader

word count: 3.2k

genres + themes: literally pure fluff, reader is a first-year karasuno student, reader is also kind of a romantic

warnings: none

a/n: so this is my first time writing for kageyama and i know he's probably pretty out of character, so my apologies!! this was inspired off some headcannons i wrote for one of my irl friends, and this wiki-how article which i used to structure the actual checklist! to all my lovely kags simps, this is for you <3 (also to all the people who hate angst, you lucked out bc i was about to add an angst part but got lazy)

You had never thought a trip to the vending machine could be so eventful.

It had been lunch break, and you found yourself wandering towards the machine, money in hand as your eyes trailed the snacks. It had become routine to sneak away during lunch hours for this, enjoying the fresh autumn breeze as you bought your snacks. It had always given you time to think and the time to recompose yourself when you didn’t have a clue what to do.

Usually it also provided you with time alone.

That wasn’t the case today though. Standing in front of the vending machines was Kageyama Tobio, frantically pushing the button for milk with a grumpy sort of scowl on his face. From the distance you stood, you could make out his height and the way he tapped his foot continuously, as if he didn’t have the time to wait for the milk to be dispensed from the spot.

Strolling up to the spot, you stood silently next to him, watching the way he retrieved the milk from the slot wordlessly as he walked away, not even a glance in your direction.

You knew full well who he was. In fact, you could barely walk through the halls of school without hearing a murmur about the prodigy setter and his closed off ways. The girls found him intriguing from afar, and while they never dared to approach him, they all wanted to.

You hadn’t really understood what they saw in him. He was average...if not below that in academics, and he seemed to dedicate most of his time to volleyball, not caring much for other people. He didn’t seem to have many friends, and was almost always grumpy.

All of this should’ve been reason enough to avoid him, and yet you couldn’t help but be intrigued. There was something about him that was different. You just needed to find out what that was.

The next day came around, and sure enough, he stood at the machine again, toe-tapping as his milk was dispensed from the slot. This time his eyes scanned the courtyard as if he was seeking something before they finally landed on you.

You weren’t prepared for the full impact of his gaze. It was calculated and pointed, with some sort of intent that was expressed in every inch of those dark blue eyes. You weren’t put off by it.

In fact, it was charming in its own way.

“Are you looking for something Kageyama?” You asked as you walked towards him, pulling a few yen out of your pocket. “You’re staring.”

“I’m not.” He deadpanned, his eyes still trained on you as you selected a snack from the machine’s buttons. “I see you everywhere. Who are you?”

You hadn’t expected that. You knew he was observant...when it came to volleyball specifically, but never realized how it translated anywhere else. “I’m Y/L/N Y/N.”

You weren’t sure what else to say to him. Gently grabbing your snack, you politely nodded at him before leaving him behind, the thoughts rapidly accumulating in your brain. Did he notice you the entire time? Why did he ask? Did he know something? Was he planning to use you as some example to the other girls who wanted to know him?

You wish you had an answer.

Unfortunately, you couldn’t think of any.

It had been two weeks since you had met Kageyama by the vending machines. It had now become routine to expect him there during your lunch breaks, milk box in hand as he regarded your very presence with something that felt a whole lot like curiosity. Every now and then he’d offer commentary on the mundane happenings of Karasuno, or ask about you, but you weren’t sure how you could hold a conversation with just these things.

“Kageyama.” You nodded, strolling towards the machine as you always did. He whipped around almost immediately, offering a solemn nod in return, clutching his milk box.

“Y/L/N.” He murmured, taking a sip of his box.

“Have you ever thought about love?” You found yourself asking, internally screaming at the word choice. Great, now he was going to think that you were some crazy person.

“I think so…?.” Was what he offered in response. His features seemed to soften at this question though as he scrunched his brows in thought. “What type of love?”

You raised a brow at him in question. “Kageyama...what type of love are you talking about?”

“Well...I love volleyball and milk.” He shrugged. “That counts.”

“That...wasn’t the type I was referring to.” You said, suppressing the laughter that bubbled into your chest. “I was talking about the other kind.”

“The other kind is stupid.” Kageyama replied instantaneously. “There’s nothing special to it.”

You felt confusion seep into your system before you quieted it, letting your mind wander. With Kageyama’s status, you assumed that he’d at least thought of the concept at least once, although it seemed that he’d never even pondered the idea altogether!

“You’d have to feel it to come to that conclusion,” you countered, “Have you?”

“No,” he scoffed, “It’s still stupid.”

“Why?” You asked, feeling the curiosity surface. “Any specific reason?”

“Why would anyone want to dedicate all their time to another person?” Kageyama asked straight back, his gaze unwavering. “I just don’t see the point.”

You stared back at him, feeling the challenge bubble in your veins. “I bet...I can make you fall in love with someone by the end of the school year.”

At that moment, the boy in front of you looked thoroughly surprised, throwing his empty milk box at the garbage can nearby. He seemed speechless to some extent, as if he wasn’t able to process the words that had just left your mouth.

“And what happens if you can’t?” He asked, hesitantly bringing his gaze to your face. “What then?”

“I’ll buy you milk for a whole month.” You placed your hands on your hip as you kept your glare firm. “I stick to that.”

“Okay then,” he sighed, “Game on.”

With a shake of your hands, you cemented your fate.

You would win that bet. That much was certain.

“What’s this Y/L/N?” Kageyama asked, pointing at the piece of paper you held at him. “How are you going to win a bet with this?”

The two of them stood in the courtyard of Karasuno, the fresh autumn breeze rippling the paper you held in your hand. It had been a good day so far, and Kageyama had surprisingly stuck to his resolve, meeting you at the vending machine when he could’ve easily avoided you.

It was always more fun to challenge a competent opponent.

“This is the romance checklist.” You grinned proudly. “This has all the things we need to get you to fall in love.”

“How is it fair if you don’t do the checklist’s things too?”

“Well, that’s why I’m doing them with you.” You responded, already anticipating these types of questions. “I drafted the checklist off of the things I’ve observed over the years that should totally lead to feelings of love!”

“Whatever.” Kageyama said, his blue eyes scanning the paper’s contents. “How do you plan to do this?”

“We follow the steps.” You nodded. “Since I’m doing this with you, it’ll be foolproof.”

“Y/L/N...what if we competed against each other?” He mumbled. “We follow the checklist and use it against each other. Whoever falls in love first loses.”

“Do you really want to risk that?” You smirked, “That’s a bold move you’re making.”

Kageyama stood up straighter at this, the challenge burning deep in his eyes. “I’m going to win, so it won’t be an issue.”

“Suit yourself,” you grinned. “I’ll be winning this anyways.”

He simply smirked as he looked down at the paper, the promise of a challenge fresh and bright between them.

STEP ONE: MEET SOMEONE

After a long time, you had finally gotten some free time away from schoolwork and the obligations that pinned you down. It was a rare occurrence with the amount of pressure that the college prep class placed on you, and you intended to make the most of it.

You found yourself on the pathway of a cafe you used to frequent in the summer with your friends. It had always been a place to collect your thoughts and let your worries float away with every sip of one of the immaculately crafted beverages that they offered there. You felt your lips twitch in an involuntary smile at the memories.

“Y/L/N?” You heard a voice call out, a shocking contrast to the normal chattering you heard within the shop. Looking up, you were met with Kageyama’s eyes, narrowed and confused as you sat at the table frozen. “What are you here for?”

“It's a break for me,” you shrugged, “I come here all the time. I haven’t seen you here before.”

“They have good drinks,” Kageyama replied bluntly. A few beats of silence passed between them, with neither of them knowing what to add to the conversation.

“You can sit down with me.” You offered, gesturing to the empty seat across from you. “The more the merrier.”

He didn’t question this as he slid into the seat, fingers drumming on the table as he looked at the window. From your point of view, it was almost picturesque the way he managed to appear. His blue eyes were focused on the trees outside, and his posture was ever so casual and relaxed as he sat there, as if he had no other care in the world.

It was unfair how model-like he managed to appear, even despite the fact he wasn’t trying.

Ah. Perhaps this is what the girls at school noticed.

Once the drinks arrived at your table, the two of them drank in comfortable silence, admiring the flavors on their tongues as their surroundings continued on as normal. You didn’t feel the need to contribute anything to the silence, finding it calming in its own right.

“So Kageyama, are you feeling anything yet?” You teased, setting down your half-empty cup.

“No.” He admitted, setting down his drink as well. “I am supposed to?”

“Well technically no, but it’d be good if you did.” You chuckled, finding amusement in the cluelessness of his ways. “Step one of the romance checklist: meet somebody.”

“We already met though.” He countered, “How does this count as anything?”

“Well, we just encountered each other out of nowhere.” You smiled, “That counts as a meeting in my book.”

He wrapped his mind around this information, nodding solemnly. “I guess so then. I still don’t feel anything.”

“Neither do I.” You said, willing the slight butterflies in your stomach to subside. It was really nothing. This was simply a chance meeting, nothing more than luck and fate that had you encounter each other today of all days.

You shouldn’t have been affected this quickly. You felt far too warm, far too...fuzzy, for a meeting of chance. It was simply far too intimate.

Well, it seemed that Kageyama had gotten the one upon you at this stage.

You’d beat him next time. You knew you would.

STEP TWO: FLIRT

“You look good today Kags,” you smirked, feeling a sense of satisfaction creep up in your veins at his flushed cheeks,

Over the course of the weeks spent together, you had been able to learn more about the mysterious boy in front of you and had even formed a friendship of sorts. For starters, he was flustered very easily, which is why you decided to make your move so early in the morning.

“I look like how I do every day, dumbass!” He growled, the red deepening in his cheeks when you merely winked in response.

Ah yes. He tended to insult those he befriended. That was yet another endearing thing about the boy in front of you.

“No, something is different today,” you commented, “Did you do something with your hair?”

“No,” he frowned, the flush never subsiding from his cheeks. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“I’m just saying genuine things you know.” You laughed, punching his shoulder casually. “Besides, I think I’m succeeding so far.”

“Succeeding? This is that stupid checklist again, isn’t it?” He sighed. “Step two: flirting. What is the point of this again?”

“It’s to show interest.” You remarked. “Besides, if you want me to fall for you, you’re going to at least have to act like you’re interested in me. I know it’s working on you so far.”

“No it’s not!” He yelled, although the defense was half-hearted. You knew he was merely putting up a front. You could tell it from his body posture alone.

You had the upper hand right now.

You waved him goodbye as you entered the Karasuno grounds, climbing the stairs to reach your class as he walked in the opposite direction. Even if you had the upper hand right now, you knew that you had to be on-guard the rest of the day.

If there was one thing you knew very well in the time you had spent with Kageyama, it was that he was extremely competitive. There was no way he’d ever go down without a fierce fight, especially when a month’s worth of milk was on the line.

You had been absolutely right to doubt him.

When lunchtime rolled around, he stood at the vending machine like he always did, leaning against it casually as he waited for you, his focus placed on the entrance.

The first thing you noticed was how calm he was. There was none of his usual frantic energy or the practiced insults that you threw back at one another. He simply stood there, content, as he watched you make your entrance.

The second thing you noticed was how an unconscious smile crept onto his face when you waved at him and slipped away the minute your eyes darted to his mouth. He sipped his milk casually, although you knew that internally, he was definitely scheming.

He could be a gremlin if left untapped.

You were about to purchase your snack in silence, thinking about all the ways he could win against you when you felt his hand on your shoulder. Turning around, you saw him holding out a container of your favorite snack, handing it to you wordlessly.

What?

“I thought I would get it today,” he shrugged, taking a sip of his milk. “You’ve bought me milk sometimes. It’s only fair.”

He didn’t consider it much of a big deal, but you felt your heart begin to accelerate in its pace at the thoughts that came flying into your head.

He had paid attention to your favorite snack? He had actually cared about when you bought him milk?

He noticed all of this?

“You...have a nice smile.” He mumbled, a flush rising onto his cheeks once again. You felt yourself fluster a bit at the compliment, not used to hearing it that often.

“Uhhh thanks.” You exhaled, not knowing how to respond to such an out-of-the-blue remark. “Your smile looks a lot like the Cheshire cat you know.”

For a moment his face was contorted into an expression of horror before he laughed a bit, the low chuckles sending heat straight to your cheeks.

Damn it. His laugh was adorable.

It was a low chiming sound, but it still managed to uplift your spirits in the brief time that you heard it. It was absolutely perfect.

You’d like to hear it again if you could.

A small smile was on his face as he looked to the ground, thinking about something while you took the time to really look at him. Behind the stone exterior, was someone talented, clueless, and amusing in every way you could possibly imagine.

You noticed how his posture mirrored yours, and the way how he smiled when your eyes finally met his own.

Damn it! He got the one-up on you. Again.

STEP THREE: GO ON THRILLING DATES

“Tobio! Let’s go on this one!” You yelled as you dragged him towards the large rollercoaster that caught your eye.

It was a beautiful Saturday with the most perfect weather. Sunny skies met a fresh breeze as you dragged Kageyama around the amusement park you had insisted on going to together. He kept with your quick pace as you went from ride to ride, never once letting go of his hand.

If anything, you were more confused why he didn’t comment on the fact that you had been holding hands that long. Rather he silently followed you from ride to ride, occasionally commenting on how small it looked for them.

From where you stood, the rollercoaster looked positively incredible with the multiple loops and drops in its track. This certainly fit the bill for thrilling. Maybe Kageyama could finally agree to ride this one.

“Y/N, do we really have to do this one?” He asked, his gaze not tearing away from the ride. “Doesn’t it look a bit too small for us?”

“Well if it’s too small, then we can still ride it as a joyride, don’t you think?” You grinned as you shoved him into the line of the coaster. Soon enough, it was your turn as you were ushered into the seats while the employees strapped you and Kageyama into the rollercoaster.

The wait was excruciating, with every second that passed sending a wave of anticipation and adrenaline through your system. Looking to your side, you saw Kageyama’s face, which was composed, even though his fingers drummed rapidly on the bar.

Was he nervous?

Hesitantly, you reached to clasp your hands together, relishing in the feeling of your palm on his as the rollercoaster suddenly began moving, bringing you up the tall lift hill.

“Tobio, are you okay?” You questioned as you neared the top, the grip he had on your hand tightening ever so slightly.

“I’m fine!” He yelled, just as the roller coaster fell over the lift hill, sending them into a plummeting drop.

You felt the exhilarating feeling of soaring as the ride propelled you forward, shouts of glee leaving your mouth ever so often. On the other hand, all you heard from Kageyama was the occasional shout of horror when they encountered yet another drop on the track, the grip he had on your hand deathly tight.

“Tobio! You’re afraid of rollercoasters?!” You shouted as you were guided into a loop.

“No I’m not!” He shouted back, shutting his eyes when he was finally upright again. “They just make me feel like I’m about to die!” When he opened his eyes, they first found yours in a look that was both petrified and fond. “I think I lost the bet!”

“You did what?!” You yelled as the wind rippled in your ears again.

“The bet Y/N! I think I’m in love with you!” He yelled. “I thought I should tell you before we die!”

You felt your heart soar at the words that had just been exchanged, a testament to the budding feelings you had felt for months around him.

“We’re not going to die.” You sighed as the ride finally slowed, feeling exhilarated as you smiled at him. “I love you too.”

Stepping off the rollercoaster, Kageyama was more silent than anything, red flush adorning his cheeks as you massaged soothing circles onto his hand. “We both lost it in the end.” You laughed.

“I think it was worth it,” he chuckled, the beautiful chime, showing you that he meant every word.

taglist (bold cannot be tagged): @moi-bunni @kousukii @littlecatfairy @iwasunshine @kawaii-angelanne @haikyuutothetop @dearkousei @catchmewiddershins @perqabeth @sunarinluvr @elektrosonix @milktyama

reblogs are very appreciated <3

#nova scribbles <3 #kageyama x reader #hq kageyama #hihqnetwork #kageyama fluff #tobio headcanons #tobio scenarios #kegayama tobio #tobio x reader #tobio x y/n #kageyama x y/n #reader x haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyu imagines #haikyuu #tobio fluff

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milf-harrington · 3 years ago

Note

i was Asleep when you asked for matchablossom thoughts BUT if you're still wanting some, we all know i have plenty so

- cherry loves candy corn and joe absolutely HATES that cherry likes it. he thinks candy corn is a disgrace to candy. every time he sees cherry eating candy corn they have a conversation that is just essentially joe: i could make you any desert you wanted and you're sitting here eating compressed sugar cherry: yeah lol

- cherry will sometimes stim by like,, patting his hands on whatever surface is nearby (i.e. table, chair, counter, etc.) but sometimes when he's excited and he's near joe, he'll pat joe's arms

- cherry wears his engagement ring on a necklace that he usually keeps hidden under his clothes. joe wears his on a necklace too, except for when he's at s, he'll wear it on his finger bc his gloves cover it

- they have beefs over the stupidest things like whether or not to buy a new lamp when the one they have still works perfectly fine but cherry found one that looks nicer. but they don't make the terms public so no one knows that half their beefs are just them settling stupid arguments

- post-beef with ad*m, cherry has chronic pain in his jaw that sometimes gets bad enough that he has trouble eating, but he doesn't want to admit that, so he starts just saying he isn't hungry whenever it hurts to eat. joe sees straight through that though bc he Knows the difference between cherry not being hungry and avoiding eating for some other reason, so he starts making foods like soup that don't require chewing when cherry's having bad days with the pain in his jaw

okay i should probably do some homework but. i hope you enjoy my matchablossom thoughts <3

yeeahhh grace matchablossom my beloved,,,,

"yeah lol" he's so annoying i love him

i really really love the stimming one!! i just love the idea of cherry just *pat pat* on joes arm when he's all excited about something,, giving me art ideas perhaps....

oh i actually love that they hide their engagement rings,,, it's kinda like "this is ours, not theirs" (idk if that's what you meant but that's what i picked up from it djkg)

that is my Favourite matchablossom headcanon, cherry and joe getting into beefs to settle their stupid arguments feels like the essence of this ship

im an absolute sucker for cherry post-tournament chronic pain, and i'm so soft for joe being able to read him so well, and knowing what cherry needs bc cherry is awful at actually asking for help

grace i always enjoy your matchablossom thoughts, they're always fantastic, and i hope you get some homework done!! <3 (i mean that in a supportive way)

#asks #grace #zukkaoru #mutuals #matchablossom #sk8

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poptod · 3 years ago

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The Old Gods

Description: Jack has to get close to a powerful suspect. Jack also ponders upon his humanity.

Notes: genuinely didnt meant for this to get so long, my apologies, i just like writing conversations bc i never get to have them. also! I hate myself so much for writing supernatural fanfiction in the good year of our lord 2021. its not my fault, it was the only show i could watch with my cousin that we both liked. anyway! lmk if you like it i could do a part two WC: 11k

The nearest library could hardly be called a library. A more accurate description would be a collection of books––a small collection––that could be read freely but never taken from the library itself. There was little need within the Winchesters to visit the library, considering they had one in their home filled with mythical lore, but the records of Kansas and neighboring cities and states were detailed thoroughly in the nearest library.

Jack knew a great many things; inherent natures and laws of the universe, the experience of power and of fear, both before him and within him. Many things he'd seen deserved to be feared, exposing him to dangers often unheard of amongst regular children.

Three months into existence, however, Jack liked to think he knew more than he did when he was born. This was because he'd spoken to more people, experienced more things, and learned select things about his mother, his father, his family, and strangers. Still, there were things that puzzled him––the age of the world was clear in his mind (4.543 billion years, four months, 22 days, 6 hours, and 52 seconds) but how humanity progressed into what they now were astounded him.

"Humans started as... these creatures with unending curiosity," Castiel explained to him, his hands folded neat in his lap but hidden by his too-long trenchcoat sleeves. "Ceaseless innovation. They started without language but they always had kindness. I think.. that's why God favored them, at least at first."

"So... kindness is a form of.. intelligence?" Jack asked slowly, his brow furrowed tight as he stared past his father.

"I believe so," he said, shifting in his seat. "Kindness drove these animals to building homes, to conversing with one another, to creating a better world for descendants they would never know. It's quite beautiful, actually."

"Am I a part of that story?"

Only half-human, only half-alive, only half the story, belonging to nothing concrete. Jack wasn't really human, leaving him alone in his species.

"Yes," Castiel said without hesitation.

Civilization first started off in a number of areas. The first book Jack found dealt with the fertile crescent northeast of Africa, where Mesopotamia brought forth a number of societies, of cultures, meshed together over the course of thousands of years. Sumerians were one of the first to build their cities, creating writing, the wheel, and the plow in their haven apart from the unpredictable and often violent wild.

But no––the next book Jack found stated that Jericho was the oldest city, west to the fertile crescent near the shore of the Mediterranean and the Dead Sea. The citystate was independent from any other power, often becoming abandoned from raids only to return to high populations, as humans flocked back to the spring water that still poured from inside the earth to this day.

Over the rest of the day spent in the nearest library, Jack learned there was no single spot in which civilization was created and then spread from. The Nile in Africa brought forth Egypt, the Indus river in Pakistan birthed the Harappan civilization, and the two rivers Yellow and Yangtze in China created the first asian cities. From there villages, towns, and cities spread like mold across the earth's surface, eventually bringing humans to inhabit every continent and nearly every environment known on earth.

There were far too many things to know, and the strain of reading on his eyes eventually forced him to retire for the day. He hardly understood anything yet, but the librarian was understanding as to his prolonged stay, and wished him a good evening when he left. He beamed a bright smile despite the strange pain growing behind his eyes, and waved good-bye.

Dean gave him painkillers when he got back to the bunker after Jack thoroughly (and unnecessarily) described his headache.

"Humans are... strange," Jack said, his brow furrowed in deep thought. He rested his elbows on the table, leaning over an empty bowl of cereal.

"Not wrong, but, care to elaborate?" asked Sam, who was sitting across from him at the kitchen table, a newspaper and pen in his hand.

"Castiel said you created the first cities out of a desire to.. to protect each other, and to keep yourselves safe. And then the first thing you do when you meet other cities is to go to war with them."

Sam sucked in a sharp breath, leaning back as he set the newspaper aside. This would take a little more concentration than a passing ear.

"People are scared by things they don't know," Sam began only to be cut off.

"Why?"

"They don't know if it's dangerous. You didn't trust us, at first, either. We didn't know whether to trust you. Remember?"

"Oh," Jack said softly.

"Yeah. But you're right," he said with a long sigh. "It's strange. We're... strange."

"Are humans inherently good?"

"I don't think anyone is inherently good," Sam said, and Jack straightened his posture, suddenly confused by his claim. "Every person – every thing, every living thing has – has the capacity for good and evil. It's really just up to the individual to decide which side they want to give into."

"Am I a good person?"

"First off, you're not really a person," said another voice from the doorway.

Sam and Jack both turned at the same time, meeting the eye of Dean, who had yet to change out of his bathrobe despite it being 2PM.

"Second off, you haven't been alive long enough to be a good person," he continued as he entered, an empty coffee cup in hand.

"Dean –" Sam began, only to be cut off.

"What? It's the truth."

The coffee machine buzzed loudly once Dean pushed a few of the buttons, setting his cup beneath the nozzle. He muttered something to himself before turning back to the kitchen table.

"Anything strange in the paper?" He asked, leaning against the counter.

"Maybe," said Sam.

He grabbed the paper again, delving into the details of a nearby missing persons case that soon faded out of Jack's state of mind. His thoughts were still absorbed in his existence, in his beginnings, and how they compared to the beginnings of humans. At least with angels he knew everything; that was how angels were born. Knowing everything.

Jack remained seated at the table when Sam and Dean left, still stewing in his thoughts that he imagined would never go away. It was half an hour later when the two brothers returned, this time fully dressed, and packed up on their way to the car.

"We've gotta go find some local records," Dean said.

"So we're headed to the library," Sam finished, and the two gave each other odd glances at the coincidental synchronicity.

"I was there a couple days ago," Jack said, suddenly perking up. "Can I come with you?"

"Sure, just don't get in the way," Dean said with a dismissive hand, already leaving the doorway.

Sam pursed his lips, letting out a bitter, almost apologetic chuckle before he followed.

He liked the middle seat. It didn't have a seatbelt, but he wasn't sure what seatbelts were for anyways, and the middle seat allowed him easy access to see both of the Winchesters. Dean never spared a glance in his direction while he drove, but Sam offered awkward, curt smiles.

Technically Jack could just fly to the library in an instant, but the drive into town was pretty, lined with the colors of autumn. Recently winds had taken up a more brisk edge, marking the absence of birds that flew in packs overhead. He scooted to one of the window seats, craning his neck awkwardly to look up and out of the glass, grinning at the ravens flying through the orange and gold trees.

The librarian showed the three men where the records were kept, directing them towards missing persons cases when they requested it. While Sam and Dean thumbed through the records, Jack returned to ancient history books, studying art and images from Vedic India.

There, amongst the carvings printed on soft paper, he found something rather odd. He stood from his position on the floor, still staring intensely at the print as he walked over to the table Sam and Dean sat at.

"Hey Jack," Sam said as he sat down, gently placing the book on the table. He scanned Jack's hunched posture before he asked, "something up?"

"I found something... strange," he said, his brow still knotted neatly above curious eyes.

"Yeah well, join the club, kid," Dean said with a groan, wiping his face with his hand.

Jack opened his mouth to ask what they'd seen, but Sam answered before he could speak.

"There's been repeated attacks, kind of," he said, waving his hand vaguely. "Once every ten years a couple of kids go missing. Always two kids, always on the same day of the year."

"And another anomaly," Dean said, reaching over to a stack of papers and slapping them on the table in front of Jack.

Big, black words displayed the newspaper title, and below it, the date of publishing. January 4th, 1967. The main article dealt with a concert happening in a nearby city, and the image printed with it displayed a number of concert-goers, most of them in their teens or early adulthood. Hidden behind several other people, a familiar face appeared––the librarian. Unhindered by time.

"Is that..."

"Big boots over there?" Dean asked, pointing with his thumb in your general direction.

You were sorting through a stack of books, but as Jack looked down, he found you were wearing rather large boots. The ends of your pants drowned in them.

"Do you think they're related?" Jack asked as he turned back to the Winchesters.

"Possibly," Sam said with a nod. "Bit early to tell. But, uh..."

Sam trailed off as his eyes focused on something past Jack's shoulder. He, as well as Dean, turned to meet your eyes that quickly darted away once all three of them were looking at you.

"I think I have an idea," Sam said.

Dean and Jack curiously tilted their heads to the side at the same time, though when Dean noticed that, he fixed himself immediately.

"I think they have a thing for you," he said in a much quieter voice.

"Me?" Jack asked, pushing his finger into his chest.

"Yeah. You could get a little closer and see if something's up."

"Are you seriously setting up Jack with a fuckin' demon, for all we know?" Dean asked flatly, earning an odd look from Sam, who had never heard Dean protest putting Jack in danger.

"Dean, Jack's dad is a demon-angel thing. I don't think it's a big deal," he said.

That seemed to shut the older Winchester up.

"Hm," Jack hummed as he debated the idea. "I also found something strange."

"Oh, right," Sam said, clearing his head with a shake. "What was it?"

"It was also... the librarian," he said with a deep frown. "In one of the books."

He pushed forward the textbook, opening it to reveal the page in which he'd found your face. The stone expression was remarkably similar to your traits, from the curve of your nose to the positioning of your eyes, and the small, polite smile on your lips.

"I found it in the history section," Jack explained. "It says it's from Vedic India."

A quick Google-search later, Sam was reading out the age of Vedic India.

"According to this it says the Vedic age was approximately around 1500 to 800 B.C., so... about 2,500 years ago."

"Wow, this fucker's old," Dean snorted.

Sam shot him a look over the top of his computer screen.

Having found the information they were looking for, the Winchesters began to pack up their belongings and their scribbled notes, shoving them into their bags or into their many-pocketed coats. Jack, on the other hand, prepared himself for talking to you, hoping his ineptness towards social situations with humans wouldn't be too obvious. He swallowed through the knot in his throat, taking a shaking breath in an attempt to steady himself.

It didn't work.

"Dean, what am I supposed to say to them?" He whispered when they were already approaching the front desk, his palms growing sweaty.

"I don't know, their job or something? Something normal," he very unhelpfully advised.

"Thanks for letting us stay for the day," Sam said with a polite smile, handing back one of the printed out records you'd fetched for them from beneath your desk.

"Not a problem. You keep quiet. I like that in a reader," you said, smiling back as you glanced between the three of them.

None of them moved, and your expression turned to mild confusion. Dean had to jab Jack in the side to get him to speak. He opened his mouth to protest, but Dean motioned something to Sam, and the two of them quickly left for the car, leaving Jack alone while they 'situated' themselves.

"I, um..." Jack started before he was ready.

The silence felt wrong, but the silence after saying something was much, much worse. Whatever came into his mind first would have to be what he said.

"I like your job," he said, keenly scanning your expression for any hint of your thoughts.

You paused, clearly taken back for a moment, before you broke out into a chuckle, looking down to your hands as your face flushed.

"I like it quite a lot, too," you said with a grin, looking back up at him. "I've always been interested in becoming a librarian. Granted, I didn't quite imagine it in Kansas, but it is pretty here."

"Where did you imagine it?"

"Greece, actually," you chuckled, and he smiled as well, his heart thumping with a sudden haste. "I was heartbroken to hear the Library of Alexandria was burned down."

"The Library of Alexandria?" He repeated, tilting his head to the side again.

"Haven't heard of it?" You asked.

He shook his head gingerly. Was he supposed to?

No matter––you explained in full what the Library of Alexandria was, when it was created, when it was burnt, and the loss it caused amongst human society. He listened intently, frequently asking questions you were happy to answer. When Jack glanced out the library window, he found the impala gone, and realized Sam's plan had, in a way, worked.

"Are there.. any books about the library?" He asked once you completed your short story.

"Yes, but I don't want to hold you folks up –"

It was then you looked out the window as well, finding the two large men had abandoned the smaller.

"Oh where'd they go?" You said in a curious, high voice.

"Don't worry about that, I... have a bus," he said, earning a strange look. "I am... I ride buses."

A beat of silence passed.

"So the Library was in Greece?" He asked, and your earlier mood returned.

You brought him––with much excitement––to one of the rows in the library filled with simple textbooks for primary school kids. Other rows of your well-tended library were occupied by old books, their bindings worn and frayed at the edges from continuous use. Pages were turned yellow and were soft beneath his fingers, but despite their age they were rather hard for Jack to read and understand, meaning his discovery of children's comprehensible textbooks was a giddy one.

Jack wasn't entirely sure what he was supposed to be looking for when it came to you. What counted as suspicious? You continued to speak with him even after the sun set behind mountains, that could be a sign you were trying to gather information on him, as well. That could also mean you liked him. Was your friendliness suspect?

"- and the Phoenicians were really only called that by the Grecians. The name came from the purple dye that they're famous for, some root word for 'purple people' in Greek is Phoenicia," you explained, moving your hands expressively despite the fact that Jack's eyes were set dead on the textbook on the floor in front of you. Paragraphs of words surrounded modern depictions of ancient people and their art.

"So what was their actual name?" He asked as he looked up to you.

"Canaanites. From the land of Canaan."

"... you know a lot," he said, looking back to the page as you chuckled.

"It's just memory," you said with a shrug.

"Can I... can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Do you know anything about mythical creatures?"

Surely this would reveal something, Jack thought––you might react poorly, in which case you could be the monster, or you might react in complete knowledge, which... could also mean you were the monster.

"A little," you said slowly. "Why do you ask?"

"I have an interest, in myths and monsters," he said, almost smiling again.

"Oh man, I have a show you're going to love."

Far in the back of the library, a hollow, steel door led to a small break room, the carpet inside being a dark, scratchy grey against his palms when he sat down. There were no chairs in the room, but an old TV sat on a cheap cart plugged into the nearest, bare wall. On the opposite side of the TV was a dull blue counter that stretched from the door to a window covered by plastic shingle curtains.

You snatched the remote off the counter, pressing a large, red button that had the television buzzing to life loudly. The screen sparked, static radiating around it as a thin line of white brought life to a Netflix loading screen.

After several minutes of waiting for Netflix to load and then typing a title into the search bar, a show called Myths and Monsters was before him. He let out a laugh as he realized what had sparked the connection––he'd literally spoken the title.

Would an ancient being or monster know how to work a TV?

Castiel could work a TV.

Kind of.

The first episode began to play and you took a seat beside Jack, crossing your legs neatly beneath you. A few minutes in, rain pattered lightly on the roof, followed by sudden winds that battered the now pouring rain against the window. Jack watched through the side of his eye as you smiled at the change in weather.

That was suspicious.

Late in the evening, when night darkened the land and heavy thunderclouds darkened the sky, he left the library. He stood in the threshold between the warm light on your desk in the otherwise dark room, and the falling rain outside. Yellow-orange streetlamps illuminated the sheets of rain and the nearby bus stop, but you still stopped him, holding the door open as you both stood motionless in front of one another.

"I have a car, I can drive you home," you offered, gesturing over your shoulder to a door in the back that led to a private parking lot behind the library. "I'm not sure if the bus runs this late."

Extended time with you would be good, and he imagined your face illuminated by dim dashboard car lights would be better than good––great. Beautiful. You had wonderfully warm features. But you couldn't know where he lived for a number of reasons; if you were the monster, that was giving away a hiding place, and if you weren't, you would wonder why he lived in such a strange place.

"Thank you, but it's alright," he said. "I like the rain."

A small smile stretched across your plush lips.

"So do I," you said, and the two of you bid good-bye, retreating into your respective dark.

He gave a thorough rundown of the events proceeding after Sam and Dean left, and the three of them––Sam, Dean, and Castiel––listened closely. Dean already filled Castiel in on the rest of the case, and the two brothers were eating at the long table in the bunker's library.

They stared at him in silence when he finished.

"Sounds like a regular kid," Sam finally said.

"Ah don't be so sure about that," Dean said, raising a single brow. "What did you say the monster probably was?"

"A – a fae, or something," he said.

"Fae's good at lying," Dean pointed out, earning a reluctant nod from Castiel.

"He's right. Fairies are remarkably good at acting," he said in his low, grating voice.

"So... what next?" Jack asked.

"We'll keep looking into the case more, and you can probably ask the librarian out on a date," Sam suggested, earning an agreeing remark from Dean. "You can keep them distracted while we search their house."

"Do we know where they live yet?" asked Dean.

"No, but it shouldn't be too hard to find out," Sam said.

Jack watched the brothers for a moment, his mind emptying of answers as to what a 'date' was.

"What's a date?"

"Oh Christ," Dean muttered, moving immediately to his feet and leaving the room.

Sam let out an exasperated sigh at his brother, turning to Jack to explain what a date was, what were appropriate date activities, and how he should act when asking you out and when being out with you.

"Okay," Jack said with a nod despite not really understanding. "What are dates for?"

"They're between people who are interested in.. getting to know each other," Castiel said as he took a seat beside Sam across from Jack.

"So... like when Dean and I went driving."

"No. Not like that," Sam quickly said. "Not like that at all. If – if a guy is interested in a girl, like interested in having her be his girlfriend, then he might ask her out on a date. It's a romantic thing."

"The librarian does seem to be interested in you, from what I’ve heard," Castiel said with a pointed look in Jack's direction.

"I think you've got a shot," Sam agreed, nodding.

Jack thought for a moment before he said, "okay."

A few days later––Dean insisted he only try a few days later, saying anything less was damaging his honor––Jack returned to the library, lighting up when he found you were still working at the small front desk, your nose buried in a large box full of papers. Large, round glasses were hanging off the tip of your nose, and you pushed them up to your eyes when they slipped further off.

The door clicked softly shut behind him when he entered, scanning the room as if there was another reason he was there. You watched him the whole time, continuing to when he approached you, something obviously on his mind.

"I was wondering..." he trailed off, losing himself in your bright, expectant eyes. When he realized he'd fallen silent, he added the first thing that came to mind––a lie. "... if you could show me where the... books are."

You chuckled before you said, "which ones?"

"Maps," he said, smiling as he came up with something actually substantial.

Of course, it wasn't asking you out, but at least it was talking to you. He would have to do that later, though he supposed he'd have to do it that day or he would be disappointing the Winchesters and Castiel when he came back to the bunker without even trying to complete their orders.

"We don't really have a maps section, but I might be able to help you if you tell me the time and place you're looking for," you suggested for him, and he nodded slowly.

"Yes. Please."

"So what are you looking for?"

"Oh. Right, uh.. Greece and Mediterranean," he said, repeating subjects from the last time you'd spoken.

"Mediterranean sea?"

He nodded.

"What year?" You asked.

"Uh..." he drew another blank, "two... hundred."

You seemed reluctant to ask the next question, but it was necessary; "before christ or after?"

"... before."

"Alright," you said with a soft snicker, moving around your crowded desk area and towards the bookcases.

Your stride slowed as you approached a certain shelf, shifting up onto the tips of your toes to reach the highest books. Jack thought of offering his help, but he wasn't much taller than you––if at all––and he didn't know which books to get down.

Four thick books ended up in your arms, and you heaved them over to the nearest table, letting them thump down heavily. You spread them out, flipping rapidly through the pages till you found the proper maps you seemed to have memorized within each of the books.

"This one's about 900 BC to 200 AD, so it's got a bit wider of a range. Includes the bigger cities. This one is.. 1500 BC to 300 BC, so a little bit within range, has a lot more cities," you said, moving from one textbook to the next while Jack stared at you, enamored by your plush lips.

He barely even noticed that you finished your explanations, nor your quick words mentioning you should probably return to your studies and leave him to it. But he reached out on instinct, grabbing your wrist and tugging gently, convincing you to turn back to him. Your eyes, still bright, retained that same patient expectancy as his previous evening with you.

"I... could you talk to me?" He asked, oblivious to the implications read clearly by you.

"About what?" You asked in return as you stepped subtly closer.

"About fairies."

You paused, your eyes widening slightly.

"The ones from Celtic folklore or... like modern media fairies?" You asked slowly, slinking down into a seat you situated to face him.

He did the same, his feet planted firmly on the floor as he watched you, a smile tugging at his lips.

"Just... the oldest versions of fairies."

You nodded, again slowly as you pursed your lips.

"Well the oldest mentions of them in literature actually comes from ancient Greece, from the Iliad, by Homer," you began, immediately using your hands expressively as you spoke. "Those weren't Celtic fairies, though. Greeks considered creatures like satyrs and such to be fairies, as well, so... generally fairies and the fae as we think of them now came from Ireland and Scotland."

"Where are they?" He asked with a head tilt.

You stuttered for a second, your eyes flying across the room until you stood, returning to the shelves. He watched with much humor as you read the book titles at a frightening pace, fingers flipping over the bindings till you pulled one down.

"Here, world map," you said, and though he didn't notice, you didn't comment on the oddity of not knowing where Scotland and Ireland were. Almost everyone knew where those two countries were; or, at least, the general area.

"In Ireland fairies are seen as simply... mythical people. Great warriors and poets, or witches, they're all considered part of the fae in Celtic culture. In Scotland, though, fairies are more dangerous, essentially being creatures that feed off humans in one way or another," you continued. "Like... banshees, those are Scottish, and jack o' lanterns."

"Jack o' lanterns?"

He'd heard of banshees before; they were mentioned a few times by the Winchester brothers.

"Not like the Halloween pumpkins," you said, but when you were met with further confusion, you slowly said, "...and you don't know what those are either, do you?"

He shook his head reluctantly.

You spent the next two, whole hours talking to him, going over any question he had no matter how much you thought he should've known the answer to begin with. Jack relaxed into that feeling, into that ease, while suspicion grew in your own mind. There was no one of his age and stature that didn't know the questions he posed. Still, you found yourself unable to pin any such wariness of manipulation onto such a polite boy.

Engrossed fully in whatever you had to say and rarely speaking himself, Jack absorbed a number of facts about the fae. About their trickery and mischief, about their magic, how different species had different thoughts on humanity. Considering the lengths you knew about other subjects, none of what you told him occurred to him as suspicious. You seemed, again, to be a dedicated––but human––scholar.

When at last he exhausted his questions, both on and off topic, he began a build-up of courage. Asking someone out for a case should've been much easier than this, or at least that's what he thought. Dean mentioned he'd done similar things for other such cases.

Jack's face scrunched up in deep thought despite the silence between you.

"Are you alright, Jack?" You asked.

"Oh. I'm... fine," he said, nodding his head in a way that didn't convince you all that well. "I – I wanted to ask you something."

You nodded, gently helping him along.

"I know we don't know each other that well, but... you.. interest me, and.." he trailed off once more. It was difficult to tell a lie that was technically the truth. "I was wondering if you wanted to go with me. On a date."

He expected a number of things from you––perhaps anger, perhaps embarrassment, perhaps shock, but you just chuckled, leaning back in your chair. His brow furrowed at your odd reaction. Were you laughing at him?

"Was that what you wanted to ask me when you first came in?" You said through your giggles, your soft skin glowing in the warm, early evening light.

"... yes," he said, huffing out his own chuckle as his eyes fell to the floor. "I'm sorry."

"There's no need to apologize," you said with a grin. “You’re the one who had to listen to me ramble.”

"So.. will you..?"

"Yeah," you chuckled, nodding. "I enjoy your company as well."

A smile made a permanent home on Jack's face as he returned to the bunker, his official mission having been successfully completed, and his hands still burning with the touch you left as he walked out the door. While most of the town smelled like baking pies and cinnamon cider, the bunker carried no such warmth, and smelled more like rotting leaves than anything else, though Sam lit a couple apple candles in his room. The scent filled part of a long hallway.

He found his fathers all sitting on a single couch, facing a television that had some sort of film playing on it through the static. Jack silently stepped round the nearest chair, taking a seat beside them, and watching on intently. A soft, high note hummed from the speakers.

Red, ratted curtains pulled way for sunlight streaming through dust-filled air. The wooden windowsill had a vase in which a single, molted flower sat, most of its petals having fallen off long ago. But that wasn't where the camera stopped; it halted above the image of two women tangled in sheets similarly worn down as the curtains were, requiring many patches over large holes. One had their face pressed to the other's neck, her nose nudging a sharp jawline owned by still sleeping eyes. Their limbs were knotted tight together, chest to chest, and a quiet, sleepy melody humming out of the smaller's pale lips.

Jack frowned. He'd never seen two people so physically close together. The nearest thing he'd seen was Dean and Castiel hugging, and even that was reserved in a way. This was pure trust––pure peace, and he found himself wondering if it was entirely fictional, or if such happiness could really exist in the world that at times felt poisoned.

Maybe it did exist if you found a way to smile that brightly.

He earned a whole other course of schooling once he announced their plan was successful. Dean clapped him proudly on the back, shooting a dirty grin that Sam countered with clean praise. Even Castiel seemed to be proud. Jack beamed at that, his heartbeat now pounding at the thought of three days from now; when he had planned the date.

In the meantime, the brothers stayed up for most of the night, though they looked much worse for wear that morning than Jack after he stayed up with them. Researching faes was actually a little easier than a lot of other monsters––there were many articles about them, and a deeply-engrained fear of changeling children had led to thorough documentation on the fae realm and its inhabitants. Jack was still a little slow at typing, so Sam captained the computer research, while Jack sped through the books in the bunker's library. Dean looked through articles and stories in newspapers searching for any hint of where they children might be kept if they weren't immediately killed.

The more he read about fairies, about their habits, their composure, and their lies, the less he could picture you as one. Originally a fairy brought to mind someone beautiful and fair, or someone like you, with dazzling eyes that could stop an archangel in their step. But the sharp teeth and wicked, wirey hair didn't sound at all like you. He'd felt your hands––once brushing over his––and there were no claws or stinging sensations that lingered in your touch. Still, the Winchesters probably knew better than him, and he pushed the feeling aside.

In the next evening, after Dean took a long day nap, Sam and Dean set to packing up their tools and tricks once more, tossing them into the back of the impala with the rest of the permanent fixtures. Jack watched as they did this, his hair still neat and clean despite not sleeping or washing up for two days.

"Can I come with?" He asked in the politest voice he could manage.

They were headed off to the library under the cover of night. After hearing about several back rooms Jack noticed during his time there, a reasonable question was posed––was there more information you could be hiding?

"Uh –" Sam began, only to be cut off by Dean saying –

"No. If we get found, that's fine, but if you're with us, we lose your relationship with her."

Before Jack could reply Dean climbed into the drivers seat, followed by Sam clambering in beside him. He had issues getting into the car at times. The engine stuttered to life, and Sam waved good-bye through the windshield as they pulled and drove the car away.

Jack frowned, his brow knitted together again.

"Bye," he said, but he was the only one to hear it.

Castiel would be back soon. He decided waiting in the library would guarantee he'd see Castiel as soon as possible, something he desired, as there were a number of new questions he wanted to pose to the elder angel. Thousands of years his senior, Castiel must've had answers––some sort of insight to some strange impulses, or simply comfort against 'wrong' thoughts.

Technically your library was private, meaning others weren't allowed to take your books away from the building, but you allowed him to take something home under the assurance of a guarantee. He would return it next time he saw you, a promise that clearly meant a lot to you going by the ease that overtook you when he said 'okay' with a signature, sweet smile. The only reason you leant the book to him was because it contained information you considered thought-provoking, thoughts about how humanity evolves, and how technological advances could change the actual anatomy of the human mind. Some of the claims seemed to him to be a bit of a reach, but others brought him interesting points.

The metal latch on the door let out a resounding click as the door swung open, Castiel standing behind with wild hair and a stunned look about him. He flung the door shut before running down the stairs towards Jack.

"Have they gotten back from the library yet?" He asked as he approached.

"No, they left..." he glanced at the clock, "a couple hours ago."

"Hmm," Castiel grumbled. "That's a long time for them."

"Should we go help them?" Jack suggested, setting your book aside as he stood straighter in his chair.

"No, we'll give them some more time. See what happens," he said before he set off, jogging into the hall.

Jack sighed as he slumped back into his seat, almost mourning the death of an easy excuse to go see your library. And Castiel left before he could ask him anything. Dean had a point, though––if they were caught and he was with them, that would ruin your relationship entirely, and that was something he, for some reason, despised.

It took another hour and a half before Sam and Dean were waltzing back in from the garage, tossing their duffel bags aside and shucking off warm, autumn jackets to side chairs. Something must've given away their presence, as Castiel was quick to reenter the main room.

"How did it go?" He asked.

"Like shit," Dean said, not even bothering to stop as he passed Castiel.

"We didn't find anything," Sam clarified. "Whole place was clean."

"Well.. maybe it's at their house," Castiel said almost gingerly, turning to keep his ever-vigilant eyes on the elder Winchester. "All the tools and... stuff."

"Yeah, that's what we're hoping," Dean said as he disappeared into the hallway.

"When did you say your date was again?" Sam asked, turning to Jack, who blanked for a moment before he answered.

"Two days from now," he said.

"Alright, well... we'll see what happens," he said with a nod, setting his hands on his hips. "Hopefully find where they might be hiding the kids."

Dean reentered with a bottle in hand, taking a quick swig as he settled down into one of the cushier chairs.

Jack's heart sped when his fingers began to fidget together, squirming restlessly in front of him. Questions still lingered on the edge of his mind, and answers from anyone would do him well, though he was well aware Dean would probably be reluctant to offer any advice to him.

"Could I ask you some questions?" He asked in the general direction of Cas, who happened to be standing right beside Dean. Castiel opened his mouth to answer.

"Sure," Dean said before he could speak. Castiel promptly shut his mouth after that.

"I know this shouldn't get in the way of the case, and it won't," Jack said as he took a seat opposite Dean. He and his brother shot each other glances. "I just have strange... thoughts, when I am around the librarian. Impulses, kind of."

Dean, who had raised the bottle to his lips, paused at those words and set it down instead, a decision that shocked both Sam and Castiel.

"What kind of impulses?" He asked in a flat voice.

"I want to... eat them," Jack said slowly, his brow furrowed deeply as he looked at the ground. When he looked back up, all three men were staring at him.

"You want to what??" Castiel asked.

"Like.. put my mouth on them...?" He tried.

"Wait – you mean kissing?" Sam asked as he shifted his weight between his feet.

"N... no, I don't think it's that," Jack said, though he was growing even less sure of himself with how they continued to gawk at him.

"You want to make out with the fairy?" Dean asked with a look that screamed 'unbelievable'.

"Maybe?" was the best answer Jack could offer.

Dean sighed, rubbing his face tiredly with his free hand.

"I don't want to.. encourage these thoughts," Castiel said, "but they might help on your date."

"So I should kiss them?"

"Maybe at the end of it," Sam suggested.

"And... how do I kiss?"

"Fuckin' –" Dean muttered under his breath as he stood, leaving the room with annoyance in his scowl.

The three of them––Jack, Sam, and Castiel––watched Dean round the corner and disappear.

"Ignore him," Sam said.

Sam, with some help from Castiel, patiently re-explained the happenings and ongoings of dates, from conversation topics to activities often done on dates. Sam assured Jack that he needn't do anything dramatic, over the top, or especially original, since Jack 'wasn't actually going on a date,' a phrase that made him a little sad for a reason he couldn't identify.

A bouquet of chocolate roses lay in his hands, the neon and florescent lights of the convenience store flickering and buzzing above him. Sam insisted a good way to start a date was with a gift––conventionally flowers, but the second Jack saw the chocolate roses he was entranced. He'd never seen candy in the shape of something real. Surely you would be delighted by the art, as well. Sam was less sure than he was, but allowed him to buy it with a chuckle, muttering something about how he wouldn't need to get chocolates anymore.

"Now remember," Sam began as he adjusted Jack's collar, "blood-soaked iron is what kills them, but since we don't have that right now, I think iron should hurt them."

"Forks, fire pokers, metal pipes... those usually have iron in them," said Dean.

"And if you get into a fight, just get out of there," Sam finished.

"No hanky-panky, either," Dean said.

"Dean," he hissed, slapping his brother's arm.

"What's hanky-panky?" Jack asked, furrowing his brow.

"Nevermind, just––be safe, have fun," Sam said with a smile, patting his shoulder.

The brothers dropped him off at your house before circling the block in search of a good vantage point. He took a shaky breath as he climbed your steps, soon rapping his knuckles on the plain, wooden door. It was a bit of a task trying to swallow, but he managed to push past his tight throat and put a smile on his face.

Footsteps sounded, growing closer until the door opened, revealing your wide eyes and the olive green silk you wore, draping elegantly from your chest down to your feet. A heavyweight scarf rested upon your shoulders. The warm light of the hallway behind you illuminated the loose strands of your always messy hair, but the sight still had his lips parting as he gasped softly. He felt suddenly out of place in his simple button-down, pants, and everyday jacket, shifting his weight almost uncomfortably as he found himself at a loss for words.

"You look... really nice," he said rather awkwardly, gesturing vaguely to your outfit with a dopey smile.

"Thanks," you said, chuckling. "You look nice too."

He stared for another moment before he suddenly remembered the chocolate and foil roses in his hands.

"I got these for you," he said as he handed them to you, scanning every inch of your reaction. "Sam told me to get flowers, but I think this is better, ‘cause then you get to eat them."

"You actually can eat roses! They just don't taste very good," you giggled, fixing your hair as you took them, a blushing smile still on your face. "I do like chocolate more, though."

"Oh, good," he said, his shoulders finally falling from their tense position. "I hope you don't mind walking. I don't know how to drive."

"I like walking, actually," you said as you walked past him, trotting down the front steps of your house. He followed along, his soft brown hair flopping like a puppy's ears over innocent eyes. "I like taking walks at night, but I don't take them a lot. It's kind of dangerous."

"Why?"

"A lot of people aren't very nice, or they're down on their luck and make poor decisions. I don't want to get hurt or mugged just because I like wandering around."

"Why would someone hurt you? You're such a nice person," he said with a frown.

"That doesn't mean anything," you laughed softly.

Food wasn't a particular attraction of Kansas, but few things were. The amount of restaurants in town was high, most of them serving a very similar menu containing lots of meat, barbecue, pie, and sometimes funnel cake. None were all that classy, so Jack took you to a place that Sam recommended––a nearly 24 hours open cafe whose kitchen was always open, and who hosted quiet, live jazz on select evenings.

You and Jack spoke of a number of things while you walked, none more interesting than any of your previous conversation topics, as you seemed to want to stay on the topic of him as a person rather than the history you usually rambled about. You asked who Sam was, which he explained as one of his fathers, at which point you asked who the second was. He hesitated for a moment, unsure if he should tell the truth or formulate a more normal-person lie.

"I... my mother died in childbirth," he said, his voice uncharacteristically low and quiet, murmuring with the sureness of his trust in you. "My father, Castiel, takes care of me, with his brothers, Sam and Dean."

"Oh. I'm sorry," you murmured, and he opened his mouth to give the usual speech––it's alright, I've gotten used to it––but you continued with, "it's an honorable way to die."

He paused to absorb your words. No one had ever said that before.

"Yeah," he finally said. "I guess you're right."

"So what's your father like?"

He sucked in a breath, forced to once again decide between a truth, a half-truth, and a lie. Like with most things, he took the middle road.

"My genetic father isn't... I don't talk to him," he said.

"Oh."

"But Castiel is good. He always tries to do what's right. I'm still trying to learn about this whole.. being-alive thing, from him."

"I think we all are," you chuckled.

You ended up ordering for him when you finally got to the cafe, standing in line for only a few minutes before you were looking for a table. He had trouble understanding the menu, often asking you what things were, and eventually you had to gently push him on to let the next people in line have a turn. If this bothered you, it didn't show.

Piano and saxophone played in time with one another, their rhythms and melodies dancing around the beat of the drummer. Scant, warm light shone from above, illuminating the haze of clouds drifting from smokers, most of whom stood in the corner, nursing the embers as they watched the musicians play. Jack tapped his foot to the beat against the dark oak floor.

You joined him a moment later, two coffees in hand and your coat draped over your arm.

"Have you ever been here before?" You asked as you took a seat, casting your jacket over the back of the chair after you set the coffee down.

"No, I don't really get out much," he admitted.

"How come?"

"I don't.. really have friends," he admitted, again, though this time much more reluctantly. He'd heard that generally people respected you more if you had friends.

"That's alright," you said, leaning back with a soft smile made only more alluring by the dim, red and orange light. "I've found it's more fun to stay in than to go out sometimes. Everything becomes the same after a while. You can drink at home, you can dance at home, sing, host parties..." you sipped from your steaming cup, ".. so, obviously, I don't go out much either."

"You have friends, though?"

"Not really," you chuckled, glancing down. "Books last longer than conversation, generally."

"Then... why talk to me?" He asked, attempting to meet your eye with that knot still tucked into his brow.

"Because you came to me."

Soon your conversation was halted by a server bringing out your food. You made sure to thank him as he left, before hungry eyes settled eagerly upon your funnel cake. Unwrapping the napkin, you set the orange cloth on your lap, revealing your silverware. Jack followed your lead, copying your motions near exactly down to you rubbing your hands together excitedly.

He'd never tried funnel cake before, leaving him to melt as he took his first bite.

"Good, isn't it?" You chuckled through a full mouth.

He nodded ardently.

The crowd began to thin halfway through your meal, turning thick conversation to quiet murmurs confined to singular tables in corners and shadowed areas. Jack still had yet to find anything incriminating about you, an answer that led only to other questions, ones that flew wildly around his head.

You didn't seem human––at least, not entirely. There were things you said that hinted to something else, a knowledge within that was a little too wide for the lengths of a human mind. That and your soul; what he could see of your soul was strangely colored, florescent holographic, and warped far more than normal people's usually were––almost as warped as Sam and Dean's souls now were. Bright, yes, but warped. Something had happened to you.

But there was nothing bad within you. Darkness tinted the edges, the edges so often scraped by the world around you––the world around both of you––but the center within, where your heart emanated, was clear. It was actually rather beautiful; you were rather beautiful.

He wished he could tell you without seeming strange.

"What do you think about most, Jack?" You asked, pulling him away from his thoughts.

He instantly stuttered, as what he'd been thinking about was you, but he couldn't say that.

"Just.. uh, my, uh.. my place in the world," he said, tapping the end of his fork on the old wood table.

"Like your job, or your purpose as a human?" You asked as you sipped from your third refill of coffee.

"My purpose, sort of," he said, his eyes flickering to the ground. "I have a lot of responsibility. My father thinks I'm very powerful."

Was that giving too much away?

"What does he want you to do?"

"He wants me... to stay alive," he said, earning a soft chuckle from you that had a smile spreading across his own face. "I think he wants me to be safe and happy."

"That's a wonderful goal," you said with a grin. "And there are so many ways to achieve that."

So far he'd only found ways to achieve the opposite––how to antagonize the world by existing, how his grandfather wanted him dead, how his genetic father would use him for any power grab he posed. If you wanted to feel at risk of dying at any moment, he knew a thousand ways to do it.

"I haven't really found any," he said quietly.

You paused before you asked, "do you want my advice?"

He nodded, hesitantly at first, but sure of himself when you smiled softly.

"Always be kind to others. Mind your own business unless someone is getting hurt, and if you have to get your hands dirty, do it for only a second. Then get the hell out of there and wash yourself clean for the next hundred couple years," you said.

There it was again. A hint of something more. In passing conversations Jack heard from strangers, no one spoke like they lived history. Not like you did. And he'd wager no historian spoke with the sense of memory that you did.

"Anything specific make you realize that?" He asked, unable to stop himself from chuckling.

You looked his age––sometime in your 20's––but you spoke like an 80 year old. Something about that facade appeared humorous to him. He also looked your age––sometime in his 20′s––but he spoke like a 10 year old far more than he liked to admit.

"Family drama," you said dismissively. "I've been steering clear for a while now."

Did fairies have families?

Well, if you were a fairy, you could just be lying then.

Jack frowned. If Dean or Castiel were here, they would know what to say and think.

"I understand," was what he said instead.

The impala was still parked near the house by the time Jack was walking you home, a sight that nearly sent him panicking. Sam and Dean wouldn't want him to do that. So he clenched his fists in his pockets, his shoulders tightening ever so slightly as he tried to slow his pace in a way you wouldn't notice.

But you did. Of course you did.

"You alright, Jack?" You asked, matching his pace.

"Yeah, I just..." what was something normal to say? Something he could back up – "I meant to ask you something, but I didn't ever... find the time to."

"What was it you wanted to ask?"

He shivered as a brisk wind picked up, the dry, orange leaves on the edges of the sidewalk passing quick by his feet in the breeze.

"Do you think everyone feels this lost in life?" He asked, barely audible above the wind.

"There's a little bit of you in everybody, just like how there's a little bit of everybody in you. You're capable of the same things that a murderer is just as you are a... a hero, or a martyr," you said, taking time to think before you spoke. "Humans are remarkably similar, you come to see after a while. And even Gods face these questions, these wonderings of their origins and their purpose, if their creations are everything they're meant for or – or if they're doing something wrong, and they should be doing something else instead."

He continued to stare at the ground as you walked slowly side by side, brought out of his intense expression by something soft flopping over the back of his neck. His heart thrummed as you stopped him there, turning him to face you, and looking him in the eye as you fixed your scarf on his shoulders. The effect was instantaneous––his shoulders relaxed and the stress fell from his brow, absorbed in the warmth of your gesture.

"Whatever you're going through," you gave him a pointed look, telling him silently to not deny this truth, "is worse and better than what other people go through. It may not be the best but it's probably not the worst."

Your advice, though insightful, didn't mean much considering his problems had to do with the continued life or prompt execution of the entire universe by a bitter, old man. But the main point remained; there were more painful deaths than his, just as there were better ways to die than he would or will. He may not be facing the best circumstances, but they could be much worse, and the fact that normal humans often asked the same questions he did was more of a comfort than he thought it would be. Perhaps he really was connected to his mother in that way.

The steps creaked beneath your shared weight as you both approached the front door of your house. You opened the door, stepping partway through the threshold before you turned to him, hesitation lacing your open mouth.

Behind you, Jack managed to spot two shadowed figures running across the hallway towards what he presumed to be a back door. His eyes widened imperceptibly and he pursed his lips, quick averting his gaze back to you.

"You're special, Jack," you said quietly, scanning him with a careful look. "Don't let bad circumstances own you. You only get so much time in this world."

"You're very kind," was all he could managed to respond with. "Thanks for... going out with me tonight."

"Of course. I like talking to you."

"I'm glad you do," he said with a sheepish chuckle, one you mimicked as you fixed your hair.

"I'll see you again soon?"

"Yes, I – oh," he interrupted himself, remembering your scarf still enveloping him, "this belongs to you."

"Don't worry about it," you said, taking his arms and settling them back down to his sides. "It's kind of cold out tonight, and I'm assuming you're walking home... aren't you?"

"... yeah," he lied, blood rushing to his face at the thought of taking a piece of you home.

"Then I'll get it back another time," you said, smiling.

You hesitated to close the door again, and instead you gingerly moved forward, raising yourself to press a single, soft kiss to his cheek, the edge of it just barely touching his lips. His mouth parted in surprise, but before he could say anything you shut the door.

He walked back to the impala completely starstruck.

"I don't think they're dangerous," Jack said, restating what he'd said earlier to Sam and Dean on the drive home––he just couldn't see you as suspicious. Strange, yes, but not murderous.

"If what you say is true, though, then this is quite likely a fae," said Castiel as his eyes flickered from Jack to Sam and Dean.

"See? Facts are facts, kid," Dean said, pointing to Castiel with a smile.

"Hexbags, crystals, actual photos with them from, like, 1890? And the amount of plants," Sam continued with a slight shudder.

"How many plants were there?" Castiel asked, frowning sternly.

"Too damn many," Dean answered for him. "The point is, we gotta interrogate that thing."

"They didn't do anything wrong!" Jack said, his voice tripling without his knowledge.

Everyone in the room reacted accordingly––stiff postures and sharp breaths as the golden light faded in his eyes.

"Jack..." Castiel began hesitantly, his voice quiet and low.

He barely uttered out an 'I'm sorry,' before he turned and left, disappearing down the hallway and into his room.

It took him nearly a whole day to leave his room, having spent most of the time alone to brood and ponder over his actions, and whether or not he was being manipulated by a fairy creature. He couldn't deny the fact that there was a chance he was wrong and he was under your control, thus landing him with the only sane decision, somehow; trust Sam and Dean.

Silence surrounded him as he padded through the bunker, headed towards the kitchens after not eating for nearly 24 hours. Technically he could live without food for much, much longer than that, even without sleep, but it wasn't a particularly pleasant experience.

When he reached the kitchen he also found it empty. In fact, the whole bunker sounded empty, leaving all the cereal for him. He smiled.

Sam and Dean returned before Castiel did, though after their return they hid away doing 'private business' in the basement area. Jack tried to ask what it was they were doing, but Dean curtly brushed him off, sending him back upstairs to go clean up the mess they left in the kitchen after a quick, midnight dinner.

As he was scrubbing the dishes, a door lock clattered in the distance, marking Castiel's return. Now that the fort was manned again, he could sneak off to see you in the morning. Castiel informed him that showing up at people's houses at midnight could be seen in a very bad way. He knew you wouldn't judge him, but he still didn't want to embarrass himself, and it was only a few more hours to wait till dawn.

He could fly. He could also ask Sam or Dean to drive him (while he could also ask to drive Baby, he knew the answer would be an ardent no), but the grey clouds promised rain, and the smell of rain hitting the leaf-covered earth pleasured his mind. With your scarf wrapped around him, he could avoid the cold as well.

His feet were a little tired by the time your library came into view, though still warm in the crisp air from fuzzy, woolen socks. The frayed edges of your scarf fluttered about chaotically in the wind as he noticed something rather odd––the library wasn't open. None of the lights were turned on, the chairs were still atop the tables, and you were nowhere to be seen. He had left the bunker a little early, but you always opened by 5AM at the latest, and it was 8 now.

For several minutes he hadn't a clue as to what to do, meaning he stood motionless in silence in front of the glass door, his head tilting slowly to the side in confusion. Maybe you woke up late––that would explain it. You were perfectly safe in your bed, dozing after a good night's sleep, completely unharmed.

But things rarely worked out so easily for Jack. Your home was empty, no sign of your disappearance left as your shoes, jacket, keys, and wallet were still left by the front door. In a sudden panic at the thought of your absence, the world around him flickered for a split second before he appeared in the bunker's war room. Knowing the usual fate of the people he cared about, you were probably being hurt, perhaps kidnapped by the actual fae who'd been killing the children, or lost of your own volition in a forest you wandered too far into.

"Castiel." Jack grabbed the angel's coat sleeve, stopping him on the way to the stairs. "I went looking for the librarian and they're missing."

"Missing?" Castiel repeated with a grimace. "Did you check the library and the house?"

"Yes, I couldn't find them."

"They might be headed for the children," he said, sending a pang through Jack's heart that he ignored.

"Is... is there a way to track a fae?"

"There's no spell I know of," Castiel said, his gaze falling to the floor as he scanned his mind. "But if it's a magical creature, it may carry a sort of... a sort of scent."

"A scent?" Jack furrowed his brow, wondering if something could carry your scent.

Something you'd been around a while. Something like your books, or your bed, or –

Jack jumped after he realized he was still wearing your scarf which, despite its' time with Jack in his room, still smelled of you. He shoved it into Castiel's arms, but he only gave him a confused look.

"It's their scarf," he explained.

Castiel spared him from the embarrassment of explaining how he'd gotten it.

He held the crumpled scarf in his hand up to his nose, intaking a deep breath with closed eyes. Jack hadn't ever heard of this kind of tracking, which was odd since he inherently knew most things about angels, but he would never distrust his father. What he did distrust was the churning feeling in his chest, as though a curved knife had impaled itself in him and twisted slowly through his skin.

Doubts pervaded both angels almost immediately as Castiel followed the trail. It led near to the stairs, but took a harsh turn and went into the hallway, leading them further into the bunker.

"Are you sure this is theirs?" Castiel asked as they hurried down the hall.

"Positive," he said, earning a sigh and a nod from Castiel.

They continued, this time less sure of themselves, as the scarf continued to lead them through the bunker, trotting down stairs till they landed in the base floor. Here the walls, ceiling, and floor were made of thick cement, allowing their footsteps to echo around the empty halls.

Jack picked up the pace and Castiel followed, running after the trail that ended right in front of the dungeon door. The torture room door, where monsters were locked up, and sometimes friends as well. A sort of fury was boiling in his blood despite his earlier acceptance of the Winchester's plan. Keeping you here in secret was never something he agreed to.

Without even fully realizing it, Jack was wrenching open the handle, the door whizzing open and slamming against the wall with a resounding crack. There, in the center of a pentagram, you were bound to a chair with thick, iron chains, your molted form flanked by Sam and Dean. The latter carried a knife in his hand, one covered in dripping blood. Sam whirled around at the sound of the door opening, meaning he was the first to see Jack's glowing eyes, and the suddenly panicked expression on Castiel's face.

"What are you doing to them?" Castiel growled with wide eyes, taking long, quick steps over in front of you. Without hesitation he undid the restraints, letting you fall down to the floor.

"Cas, they're a fae," Dean said, his tone stern and curt.

"No, they're not," Castiel replied, his own voice equally as sure. "I can't.. blame you, for not knowing this. You're only human. But it's obvious to me."

Sam opened his crossed arms, waiting for the angel to explain himself. Meanwhile, Jack regained his composure after being shocked by Castiel's actions, and made his way over to you, kneeling at your side. You'd been cut in a few different places––nothing too grievous, at least not by Winchester standards––and drops of your blood painted streaks down your sweaty skin.

"They're an Old God," Castiel finally said, but the words were followed by silence.

"We're just supposed to know what that is?" Dean asked gruffly.

"I thought your brother might," he said in a quiet voice.

Dean unfolded his arms, shifting his weight as he cast a glance to his brother.

"Old Gods are... ancient deities created by wandering bands of hunter-gatherers in your past. They got their power from their worshippers, not from Chuck, which... made them very different, to say the least," Castiel continued, still keeping his voice soft as he raised his hand above several of your wounds, stitching the skin back together with his grace.

"I've heard of hunter and gatherers," Jack said as he recalled some of the books in your library. "They wandered in bands of around 50 to 100 people."

He earned several unimpressed stares.

"Well – if they got their power from worshippers, how's this one still alive?" Sam asked after a moment of silence.

"I don't know," Castiel admitted. "I've never met this one before."

"Okay, just because they're not a fae doesn't mean they aren't the one that killed those kids," Dean said, interrupting their short conversation.

The iron knife still twirled in his hands; the only weapon against fairies. Jack kept a close eye on it as they spoke.

"An Old God would never hurt a human," Castiel said with such an intensity that no one had any choice but to believe him. “And besides,” he turned back to you, “they would’ve lost their powers long ago when humans stopped believing in them.”

Your eyes listed open while you lay in Jack's hold, the swirling image of your friend coming lazily into view.

"... Jack?" You mumbled, struggling to keep your eyelids up.

His gaze shot down to you, eyes widening at the sight of your movement.

"Hey," he said softly, hushing you when you tried to speak. "Are you okay?"

You mustered your strength to nod.

"I'm assuming you're an agricultural God," Castiel said after a moment of watching the two of you interact. "You look to be around 12,000 years old." He looked up to Dean and Sam. "That's how old agriculture is."

"Yeah, I know," Sam scoffed, but Dean remained silent.

"Do I really look that old?" You asked, laughing through your slurred words.

"Your soul does," Castiel answered.

You hummed weakly in response, drifting back into unconsciousness, your body going limp in Jack's arms.

Jack healed what remaining injuries you had, using it partway as an excuse to touch you. His palms set flat on the cuts, and with you far off in your dreams, you didn't feel the burn or the relief of his healing. He thought first to bring to his room to lay you on his bed, but Sam gently suggested that you should be put in one of their many spare bedrooms.

Castiel and the Winchesters attempted to take his mind off of you, but it wasn't long before he was back at your side, waiting for you to wake up again. He scanned your body constantly with his mind, searching for any hidden injuries he might've missed the first time around. The case remained unsolved, the children still missing and the culprit unknown. Your disqualifying left the Winchesters with no more suspects, but Jack couldn’t bring himself to worry about a creature that wouldn’t strike again for another ten years when you wouldn’t wake up to his voice calling your name.

It took hours until you stirred again, eyes fluttering into a half-open state as they fell to Jack. He had his head hung low, his elbows leant on his knees, and his hair drooping in front of his face.

"I was created in Turkey," you rasped out through a dry throat.

At the slightest sound his head shot up, eyes widening with a spark upon seeing your soft smile.

"It's a country, by the way," you mumbled, correctly assuming Jack didn't know the country, and only knew the bird. "At a place they call Gobekli Tepe, now. The people of the land would... would gather there, and share their cultured seeds, and the magic needed to make them grow."

"Magic?"

"Simple water and sunlight," you said with a weak chuckle. "It was magic to them. Everything was."

You fell silent before you said, "I miss them."

"Were they different? From people now?" Jack asked.

"Very," you nodded assuredly. "But there are some people, nowadays, that remind me of them."

He chuckled quietly. Warmth spread from your touch when you reached forward, just barely gracing his hand with yours. He took the initiative, entangling your fingers together, and watching intently as your thumb ran over the back of his hand.

"You are a new God, aren't you?" You asked, narrowing your eyes curiously, with no sense of hostility.

"I'm... I'm a nephilim. Lucifer's son, actually, but I promise I'm not like him," he said, gripping you tighter.

"A nephilim?" You asked with a frown.

"The son of an angel," he clarified.

It was the first time he was able to tell you something you didn't know instead of the other way around.

"I've never heard of angels."

His brows raised in surprise.

"Really?" He asked.

"I haven't really kept up with the world as of recent. When did angels first appear?"

"I... don't know," he said after wracking his brain and finding no answer. "Castiel might know."

"Castiel.. Castiel, that was your father, right?"

"Yeah. The good one," he said, earning a chuckle from you that brought a blush to his face.

"He is another God?"

"Another angel, yes," he nodded. "(Y/N), I... I have so many questions for you."

"About what?" You asked skeptically, giving him a playful glare.

"About humans, mostly," he said. "I mean, I've already been asking you questions, but now I know you have a lot more answers than I thought."

"Yes, well, I do keep my memory stored in a mushroom," you muttered beneath your breath.

Jack frowned. Was that normal?

"Can you tell me about them?" He asked, just barely masking his eagerness.

"My people?"

He nodded, and you smiled softly, your eyes glazing over as you recalled thousands of years past.

#jack kline x reader #supernatural #spn #jack kline

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bahorell · 3 years ago

Text

Les Amis (& co.) and what they’re like camping

Enjolras: Is kinda scared of the woods. Also he’s that guy that really has a hard time putting his phone down because “I just have to respond to this one email”. “Yeah give me one second I’m dealing with a work thing”. “omg did you hear about what’s happening in Canada? It’s horrible those poor people” “Enj the point of this is to get away from everything for a couple days” “Right I know…”. So if there’s even one bar of service they gotta go find a different place. When he isn’t on his phone he’s very active in all his friends activities. He’s not super outdoors-y so he mostly tags along when other people do things. He’ll have Baz or Courf take him on rides on their paddle boards. He’ll tag along when Chetta and Ferre go on hikes. He’ll be Feuilly’s little helper person when Feuilly’s working on building the fire. Or he’ll just hand out with people at camp or on the beach of the lake/river and just talk.

Combeferre: Loves camping because of all the bugs and critters! Found the tiniest little frogs on the shore of the lake one time and made everybody look at them. Brings plant and animal and bug ID books with him and will take little leaves or flowers and stick them in the pages of the book when he thinks he found a match. He doesn’t usually snack too much when he’s at home but when he’s in the woods he is always eating something and it’s really when he’ll let himself just go balls to the wall with the junk food. The only thing he doesn’t really like about camping is that he doesn’t get to go on jogs in the morning because he’s smart enough to not run into the woods in the middle of nowhere with no service by himself.

Courfeyrac: Has an inflatable paddle board that he bought! He likes to play lifeguard and will paddle around to all his friends who are swimming and give them rides to shore. He likes to share his paddle board with his friends but he didn’t have enough money to buy a super super fancy one that has a large weight capacity so usually if someone else is on it with him it sinks into the water enough to stress him out. Also he shares a big tent with Combeferre and Enjolras and he likes to sleep in the middle of the two of them.

Joly: Invested in a super super cute small teardrop camping trailer a couple years ago. It’s easier for him to get in and out of than a tent or god forbid a hammock (Bahorel has to lift him into it then Joly wants to get in one… this is also partially because Bahorel sets up all the hammocks and they are p much impossible to get in unless you are also 6’7”) The inside of the camper is just a bed and the back hatch opens up to cabinets and drawers and a counter and stuff that makes a nice little make shift kitchen. He’ll set up the camp stove and the cooking area right next to it. He’s not super involved in any of the cooking it just gives him less stress when the food area is organized and the table legs are on a flat surface.

Jehan: Jehan tells the ghost stories. They aren’t very good at telling ghost stories so nobody really gets scared (except for Marius and if they’re really doing a good job Enj will get a little spooked). They also wake up with the sunrise so they’re up and ready to start the day at like 5am… and they really aren’t quiet about it so they manage to wake up 2/3 of everybody else at camp. Has more dietary needs than other people so when every one gets together to build a grocery list and meal plan for the trip they’ll make their own list. They really don’t mind because they HATE sharing snacks so having their own little baby cooler all to themselves is the best. Bousset: Somehow manages to have the most amazing balance and can get on and off Bahorel or Courf’s paddle boards like it’s nothing but when he gets in the canoe with anybody they somehow always tip it over within like 20 seconds. He is the opposite of Jehan he’ll sleep until like 2 in the afternoon if one of them doesn’t come to wake him up. He’s also usually in charge of getting all the booze together for the trip bc he’s very aware of what everyone likes to drink. He takes turns with Chetta sleeping in the trailer with Joly since not all three of them can fit. When he’s not sleeping in the tent he’s sharing a tent with Grantaire.

Feuilly: Fire guy. Loves the fire. Is always excited for the sun to go down so he can start the campfire. Will not take his eyes off the fire. I mean seriously. They once played never have I ever and when it got to be his turn they timed him to see how long it would take for him to realize it was his turn bc he was too busy staring at the fire to pay attention (it was a solid 4 minutes). Sleeps in a tiny little one person tent that would make anybody else claustrophobic but he LOVES it. He does set up a hammock right next to Bahorel’s. He doesn’t sleep in it but the two of them will take naps together in their hammocks. He also has to dowse his body in SPF 10000000000+ because he’s the whitest person ever, and somehow he still manages to get a sunburn on some part of his body.

Bahorel: He’s the guy thats super picky about the camp spot. “eh i mean this one is cool but it’s a little too close to the other campsite and I don’t wanna be that close to other people thats the point of this trip is to get away from everybody.” “This one WOULD be perfect but it doesn’t have good access to the lake so it’s gonna be hard for those of us that have boats to get down there” “Bahorel the boat ramp is like 1/8 of a kilometer away we can just walk down to that…” “i mean we COULD… but it just kinda sucks” Also Bahorel has this super nice hammock system with like a bug net and a rain tarp, he will not sleep on the ground because he is scared of bugs and also the baby boy likes getting rocked to sleep. He always follows Feuilly around when he’s looking for a place to put his tent and he’ll set up his hammock right next to him. And he WAILS to Feuilly when they get back home because his SKINCARE ROUTINE GOT MESSED UP FEUILLY OHHH MY GODDDD

Grantaire: Not super big on camping but if he’s with his friends he’s having fun. There’s something about being in the woods that makes him quiet… but not in a sad way. He feels really peaceful when he isn’t dealing with a bunch of people in a big city (Even tho he loves the city). He always brings stuff so that he can draw or paint the mountains or his friends on the lake but he usually doesn’t get enough time to really make anything more than a sketch. He’s not scared of water but he avoids going in the lake if it’s not a part of it that’s deeper than his tummy. He won’t get in the boats unless there’s a lot of coaxing (usually by Enj)

Marius: LOVES being in the woods. I mean really loves it. Surprisingly it’s usually Marius that sends out the text to the group chat that’s like “hey is everybody free in a couple weekends? I wanna go camping!” He just really doesn’t like going by himself or going with just one or two people. He wakes up super early as well and usually will sit with Jehan and share coffee waiting for everybody else to wake up. Sometimes the two of them will go on a little walk together. He winds down pretty early in the evening though since he wakes up so early and is usually ready for bed by like 8:45pm. He’s also that guy that wants to eat all the berries on the bushes they walk past and has almost given Combeferre a heart attack like 7 times.

Eponine: She’s… alright to camp with. She gets kinda grumpy in the mornings because of how cold it is but she warms up (both temperature wise, but also her mood) once she’s eaten and it’s gotten warmer out. She really just likes to lay in one of the communal hammocks and read book after book. She’ll also tag along with Gavroche on a lot of his little adventures. When she’s not with Gavroche or letting Combeferre show her all the little bugs and cool plants he found, she just sunbathes. For HOURS straight. Going camping for her is just a really long fun weekend to get her tan on.

Cosette: She’s so fun to camp with!! She’s like… the best person to camp with. She always does the planning and researches everything there is to do at and near the campsite. She knows all the hiking trails nearby and what areas have service and which ones don’t. She knows which campsites have lake/river access. She also makes the best camp coffee. It’s really the only time she drinks coffee unless it’s like… finals week or she’s got an early flight or something. She also ALWAYS has to tell her dad where they’re going. She shares her location and route with him on the drive there and texts him to let him know she’s about to lose service and texts him the second she has a bar of service. He’s just very protective and she wants to make sure that he knows she’s safe. Plus if anything DOES happen he knows where she’s going and can come save the day.

Musichetta: She sleeps like the entire time she’s camping. She’ll wake up in the morning and move from her tent or the camper and go lay in one of the communal hammocks near the fire ring and doze off with her hot chocolate… which she has spilled a couple times. Once it warms up a little she’s walk down to the lake or river and lay down, get her tan on, and take a nap. One of her favorite things is to go on hikes with Combeferre. He’s one of the only people in the group that can keep up with her. If they go with other people usually by the time they reach the end of the trail the rest of the group is about 2 miles behind them. One of the best parts of camping for her is going home and showering after not showering for like 3 or 4 days.

Gavroche: Spends the entirety of the first day trying to find the perfect tree to put the perfect swing on. He also likes to try to find any big rocks near the campsite and go bouldering and run around on top of them. He still really has that childhood curiosity about everything and no fear. He’ll run off trail trying to find deer or elk. If he doesn’t get back home with a couple scratches or bruises he doesn’t consider it a good camping trip. He also will swim out to Bahorel’s paddle board and Bahorel will grab him out of the water and throw him back in. Gavroche thinks it’s the most fun thing in the world even though he’s growing really fast and it’s taking a little bit more muscle every year for Bahorel to throw him as far as Gav wants him to.

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olivinesea · 4 years ago

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In the Golden Dark

a/n: Having never done any ship writing before I’m just going to jump feet first into the deep end with a little Hotchreid for you today. It’s nice. No warnings except maybe some angst because we are who we are. Probably the softest thing you will see from me so enjoy the moment. Completely unnecessary disclaimer that I would find this relationship wildly inappropriate in real life but thank god we’re out here in the lawless fiction of the internet. And you’re getting full on song lyrics bc Hotchreid is nothing if not decadent af. There’s more but I’m impatient so here’s the first bit. ~ 2.7k

what the hell am I doing here in the golden dark? feeling like I’m someone else who looks the part I built up barricades to block my heart cause I don’t wanna fear you

He leaned back in his chair, reaching his arms up and clasping his hands behind his head, arching his back slightly. With his eyes closed it could be any time of day. He inhaled deeply and pretended for a moment that he was nowhere. He even gave himself a few extra seconds, indulging in the quiet that was the office at night. If only he could feel so peaceful in the right moments—before sleeping perhaps. When he opened his eyes all he could see was the reflection of his office light in the black windows. There hadn’t been daylight for hours. He’d switched off the overhead lights in favor of the small desk lamp that pooled the light only in the area of immediate relevance. Everything beyond its reach faded in and out of existence as his focus fell deeply into the forms in front of him.

He pressed his elbows back as far as they would go, pulling up slightly on the base of his skull, stretching out a day’s worth of stress, countless hours spent bent over report after report. He never could have imagined that saving people would require so much paperwork. Reducing the chaos of the lived experience, the searches and the takedowns, the intricate patterns of dozens of personalities layering choices upon one another; it turned out to be quite difficult to do. It took him hours to wrap up cases, even with everyone doing most of their own reports. Which, through no fault of their own, wasn’t always the case. He usually ended up siphoning off a fair number of those reports in addition to his own.

He didn’t mind, he needed to go over everything, needed to make sure that any possible negative feedback that came back would fall to him and he would be prepared if it did. His team were his responsibility, he would be neglecting his duties if he didn’t ensure that things were handled properly. None of them needed the headache of administrative errors. He was good with details, good with forms, good with protocol. He would happily be the filter that saved them all the trouble of little errors even if it hadn’t been part of his job.

But that didn’t change the fact that it was eleven o’clock on a Wednesday and everyone else had gone home hours ago. Only the late night janitorial staff wandered in and out occasionally, nodding at him in silent greeting as they reset the offices to give the illusion of an endlessly renewable supply of fresh starts. People that didn’t stay late never gave this transformation a second thought. They left the office with full trashcans and small debris scattered on the old carpets, only to return the next morning to find a place untouched by human presence, metal fixtures shining and glass doors free of oily fingerprints. That was just how the world worked for them, generous with new beginnings. People who lingered knew better, that effort was put into the effect. Beginnings were never easy, never flowed so inevitably as the set and rise of the sun.

Hotch had been working late for many years, long before he was even in the BAU. He had learned in law school how to brew the coffee strong enough to stay up all night if need be. How the indoor lighting changed without the support of daylight, tinting the world a thin sickly green color without the natural light to round out the fluorescence. He only got worse about it once he joined the Bureau, the stress of the job causing old habits and old secrets to float to the surface. He compensated by working the hardest, doing the most, never allowing anyone to see him need things that other people needed. He could handle this job, this was all he ever wanted after all. To save the world. Or maybe, more modestly, to save the world of a few.

Now, with Haley gone, Jack with her, somewhere well out of his disastrous reach, there was no reason at all not to fully give in. No reason not to let his insomnia at least be productive. To let the latent self destruction that fueled his actions at least have a positive impact on the people he cared about. He could do that at least.

He rubbed his face with his hands, he was getting loopy. There was no reason to be letting his mind wander so far, there were still reports he could get through. Perhaps, as unlikely as the idea felt, he could even get ahead. He looked back down at the paperwork, letting his feet settle flat on the floor. The letters swam in front of him and he sighed, rolling his pen beneath his thumb, considering. He could probably make it another hour. He could get another pot of coffee into himself. He cast about for his mug, finding it empty on the shelf behind him. He sometimes kept it there to prevent his reports from acquiring telltale dark rings. Rolling back from the desk, he hooked the handle with two fingers and headed out to the kitchenette.

Wrapped up in making plans for what he could finish tonight and what could be left for the morning he was startled to find a light still on in the bullpen. He was certain everyone had gone home long ago. They’d each passed by his office, offering him an out as they made their ways home—perhaps their exit could be the motivation he needed to break out of his office, to head towards his own home. What they didn’t realize was that home was not better for him. Work was far better, far safer, with tasks to complete, a purpose. If he was smart he would stay at work forever.

So he waved to them as they checked out, giving them small smiles that, though imperceptible to strangers, they recognized as both apologies and well-wishes. He knew they worried, that they didn’t like to see him tied to his desk late into the night. They thought it was one of his many methods for making himself suffer but he didn’t have the heart to tell them that this was him making a good decision, this was him trying his very best. In his experience, nothing good happened at home.

He thought he remembered everyone leaving, each goodbye. But every day was the same and they all bled together so he must have missed one because he cannot deny the light down below. As he walked down the stairs, confused by the discovery that he was not as alone as he had been imagining, his tired vision focused better. He could make out dark blond curls and a darker sweater hunched over the desk in the middle of the room.

“Reid?” The name came out as a croak, he hadn’t spoken in hours and probably hadn’t had any water in that time period either. He cleared his throat and said it again, louder and closer to the other man than before. Reid’s head snapped up, expression as guilty as a child caught out of bed.

“S-sorry,” he stuttered, eyes wide.

Hotch frowned, not because he was upset but because he was still a little disoriented and his muscles fell back into the most familiar actions.

“I—“ Reid ducked his head and started pushing papers together on his desk, shoving them haphazardly into a file folder. “I was just…” he trailed off, not really having intended on explaining himself. He was simply also startled and reverting to the familiar.

Reid explained compulsively, able to handle the world when parsed down to facts and numbers. He didn’t have a fact for why he had stayed so late, only a feeling and that he didn’t know how to explain. Nights had been particularly lonely recently so he had allowed himself to stay later and later, getting lost in his thoughts at his work desk. Even without people around there was a sense of occupancy, their faint impressions lingering in the air. Plus there was always Hotch up in his office. He didn’t actively think about him or what he was doing but he liked knowing the man was nearby. Hotch’s solid presence always made him feel more secure, less concerned with whatever might jump out at him from the shadows overlapping the world and his mind.

He couldn’t tell Hotch that, was far too embarrassed to admit that sometimes, even with all the lights on, it was too dark in his apartment. No matter the illumination, he couldn’t quite dispel the unease of the night when he was alone. It wasn’t always like this, sometimes he had enough brightness to spare. Recently, however, things had been hard. So much had been going on, he couldn’t quite pinpoint why but he knew he felt uneasy. Too much had changed, there was too much risk that the floor could still fall out beneath him at any moment. And it hadn’t been so long since he’d escaped the consequences of his kidnapping, his addiction, that he trusted himself to be able to manage too much more uncertainty. Backsliding was always a risk and right now the world tilted at a frightening grade. So he let himself stay late in the safety of familiarity, sometimes working but more often not, idly rereading the books he had brought in and forgotten around the office. Tonight he had actually started to doze off, which contributed to his shock upon being discovered.

Hotch continued to frown at him, watching as the thoughts raced across Spencer’s face. He noticed how deep the shadows were beneath his eyes, the way darkness pooled in the space below his cheekbones, as if they were concave impressions filled by seawater. He knew Spencer didn’t eat enough, was all too familiar with the ways too much coffee and not enough calories pinched the skin and exposed the fine lines of capillaries beneath the surface.

“Sorry,” Spencer repeated.

He looked genuinely ashamed and it made Hotch a little sad. Couldn’t Spencer see that he was just as guilty of whatever it was he thought he was doing wrong by being here? He made a conscious effort to soften his expression, to show the warmth he felt for the younger man. After having spent his entire life masking his emotions, protecting himself one of the only ways he could, it wasn’t always easy to show his affection. Especially not at this time of night, when all he could do was cling to his walls and hope to find himself still on solid ground when the sun rose. Spencer wasn’t looking at him, too caught up in his own maze.

“Let’s go get something to eat,” Hotch said, trying a different tactic. He was smart, he knew not to make it a demand or a comment on Spencer’s health. It was only an invitation, firm enough for Spencer to know he meant it, that it was not just a pleasantry or an obligation he’d rather avoid. A hand extended, an offer of easy company to pass through a little more of this unwanted time. Spencer looked up from where his fingers were worrying at the corner of the file in front of him and smiled shyly. Hotch smiled back, a real smile that scrunched up his dark shining eyes.

“Give me five minutes to close up,” he said and turned back toward his office. As he packed his briefcase, his heart felt like it had been wrapped in a soft blanket. He didn’t bother questioning it—who didn’t like finding someone to commiserate with when they’d only expected more of the lonely dark?

Their late night meals became a regular occurrence. Not every night but once, maybe twice a week, they found themselves the last ones in the office. They fell into a rhythm, each learning to read more from the other’s subtle cues. They almost always went to the same place, a 24-hour diner near the office with deceptively strong coffee and a seemingly endless variety of pancakes. Hotch rarely ordered food, though he encouraged Reid to get anything he wanted. He accepted bites of whatever the younger man ordered, happy enough to reciprocate the excitement over strawberry rhubarb or cinnamon blueberry pancakes.

They talked about inconsequential things, mostly Hotch listening as Reid spun out information on whatever topic was on his mind that day. Reid, for his part, made mental note of the things Hotch responded to and had opinions on. Spencer sought out more information in that vein to bring up. He loved to talk, sure, but what he loved more was to discuss. During the day there was rarely time to let his thoughts wander so freely. It was a dream to have someone there, following along and challenging him with questions, building up new conclusions.

On the nights that followed difficult days, when they were both too stubborn to order anything of substance, they drank their coffees and avoided looking at each other too directly. Those nights they were both tied up in their own thoughts, islands separated by more than just distance, but there was something undeniably pulling them together. It was probably just the natural consequence of having opposite dominant sides but they mirrored each other perfectly across the table. Once, they both happened to reach for their mugs at the same time and the backs of their hands brushed against each other. They each noticed but responded differently. Hotch repressed any reaction, pretending the quick touch of bony knuckles and cool skin hadn’t registered. Maybe it hadn’t. Reid, on the other hand, jumped as if shocked, sloshing the hot coffee into a puddle on the table. This only flustered him more and he yelped at the sting of the liquid and the sting of embarrassment. It wasn’t like they’d never touched before. But here, in this nowhere time they’d constructed, it felt different. In his mind that brief touch became nails dragging across his skin, impossible to ignore. But he pretended the mug was too hot and Hotch didn’t argue, quick to assist with napkins and sounds of agreement to accompany Spencer’s half-coherent excuses.

When their meals were done, mostly cleaned plates of syrup and crumbs stacked to one side, they hesitated before standing up. Hotch always offered to give Reid a ride home, Reid always declined, insisting he could get there himself. This led to Hotch giving him a doubtful look and insisting that it was no trouble. Reid, secretly wanting a ride the whole time, struggled to argue for his self-sufficiency a little longer before giving in. It became a silly thing, both of them knowing exactly how the argument ended but they held onto it for some reason. It was a part of their ritual now, an important piece of the night. It kept this, whatever this was, contained, strictly occasional, random even. Not something they planned for, not something they looked forward to.

Hotch waited for Spencer to get in the door of his building before driving away. He knew it wasn’t necessary, Spencer was a grown man and a trained FBI agent with a weapon. Still, it made him feel better to see him safely inside. Sometimes he thought he would feel even better if he could walk Spencer all the way to his front door. But he knew that would be asking too much. As it was, the nights when they shared this extra hour or two together, extended further by the drive home, had been giving him more than he could have imagined. He wouldn’t dare impose himself further. The brittle excuse of safety would crumble if he were to start following the other man inside. He was not ready to find out what that would mean. He smiled unconsciously as he drove to his apartment. For now, it was enough that he had found companionship on these late nights when he would otherwise be slowly, meticulously, working his way into the grave.

~Part 2~

#Criminal Minds #aaron hotchner #spencer reid #hotchreid #beginnings

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fuwahiko · 3 years ago

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NOT ME TAKING LITERAL DAYS TO FIGURE OUT HOW MUCH BACKSTORY I WANTED TO GIVE THIS AND ACCIDENTALLY CLOSING THE APP AND LOSING WHAT I HAD WHEN I WAS FINALLY GETTING SOMEWHERE I-

Im a disaster but i finally got my head on straight alright HERE'S SOME OUMOTA FOR YA

SO. The V3 kids have gone on the town to hang out. Why? They were sick of always going to Amami's house. They needed a change of scenery. What are they doing? Karaoke? Bowling? Who knows. But they're all making fun of each other.

Their collective love language towards each other is bullying.

At some point, a lot of people get hungry. Miu, for some ungodly reason, yells at Kokichi to go and order for them. And bring the food down when it's done. For some even ungodlier reason, Kokichi agrees. Without an argument. Not even an insult.

He does kiss Kaito while flipping everyone off before walking off, but now everyone's scared of what the gremlin's planning. Only Kaito's safe if Kokichi's got something planned. Boyfriend priveleges work...sometimes.

With Kokichi, he's waiting for everyone's food when someone shouts his name...or something close to it. Intrigued, he turns around and immediately tenses up. But only slightly.

It his ex-boyfriend. Kokichi never wanted to see this ex (who i call Fuckface McAsshole) again. It wasn't healthy, and when he tried to break it off, said ex lost it and dragged shit out for a week and a half. Kokichi was about to turn and rush towards Kaito and the others, because safety in numbers (plus Kaito could throw a mean punch), but the ex got there first. He had also accidentally left his phone on the table with the others.

There was no calling for help. Kokichi was stuck.

So he was forced to play the long game. He didn't wanna make a scene in such a public place. He let his ex talk and talk and talk while retaining none of what he was saying. When the ex noticed Kokichi wasn't listening, he commented. ("...why aren't you listening to me, Ko? Got somewhere better to be? With people that actually want you around? Fucking doubt it.")

When he hears that, Kokichi snaps. Not completely, but enough to get snappy

"Actually, my friends and boyfriend are waiting on their food. I'm here to get their food. And I can't hear the person calling out numbers because of your blabbering. So be quiet."

Kokichi knew he shouldn't have snapped. He knew as soon as his ex's eyes widened, then narrowed. He'd never admit it, but that look made him slightly nervous.

From there, everything escalates very quickly. Quicker than Kokichi anticipated. It's about to get real ugly in two seconds. And everyone's going to hear and stare at whatever's going to go down.

......soooooo now i hand it off to you. What exactly happens between Kokichi and his ex? How do the V3 kids find out about all this, and how do they react? How does Kokichi react after that fiasco? And what do they all (extra emphasis on Kaito bc Oumota) do to try and comfort and/or cheer up Kokichi after THAT?

(Did i listen to "Happier than Ever" by Billie Eilish when i thought of this...maybe i did and maybe i didn't. You can't prove anything.)

this is a really interesting scenario! kokichi feeling so backed up into a corner like that is certainly unusual, for one thing.

ok ok so I like the idea of like, kokichi trying to work on himself a lot. dude needs therapy. and in this au I can see it being the case that kokichi has been working through stuff a lot and has managed to become so close with everyone because of that - like I'm sure in a non despair au he wouldn't be quite so... ~the way that he is~ anyway, but he'd likely still have a lot of issues and struggle to get along with everyone at first, but then with some encouragement from someone he trusts and gets along with more (kaito? maybe someone else? maybe it's more of a slowburn with him getting closer to kaito?) he'd eventually start going to therapy and start slowly working on himself, as well as starting over with some people he maybe started off on the wrong foot with before. it might take some time, but eventually even the people that really didn't get along with him start to open up a little and try to understand him more, and he does the same for them. everyone sees how hard kokichi is trying, and he's really changing for the better, and that inspires them to work on themselves too and it brings everyone a lot closer.

so. when kokichi's ex shows up, it stirs all of this awfulness inside of him, all of this bitterness. it ends up starting to pull at the worst things within kokichi, trying to bring it all to the surface, and kokichi is trying his hardest to stop himself from saying something horrible, from making a scene, from making every stranger in the area turn to look at him with that look that makes him want to disappear. he's trying so hard not to fall back into old habits and old behaviours; he's been working so hard and finally things are looking up for once.

but then he slips up.

he knew he shouldn't have said anything, but his ex wasn't going to leave him alone anyway, and suppressing his own emotions was getting too difficult, so he had to do something. but now his ex was glaring at him even more than before, and kokichi could feel the rage radiating from him, and he immediately regretted ever opening his mouth. but he'd already come this far, and his ex had backed him so far into the corner that all kokichi could do was bite back just as hard.

kokichi's ex raised his voice, and it was like the floodgates had been opened. everything he was saying was blurring together into an endless string of sharp needles that pierced into kokichi, targeting all of his weak points, hurting him over and over, each needle piercing deeper than the last. kokichi snapped back, his own voice just as loud, throwing insult after insult and trying to dig up all that he could think of to hurt him back, trying to find just the right words to hurt his ex even deeper than he had hurt him, all the while a smirk spread across his face as kokichi pretended like he was enjoying himself, enjoying this conflict, but with every word he fired back he only felt more hatred towards himself. it was a form of self destruction, and now that he'd started hurting himself, kokichi didn't know how to stop.

just when kokichi felt like his own self hatred was going to swallow him whole, he half-registered footsteps growing louder just out of view. then, before he knew it, suddenly his ex was being lifted off the ground in front of him.

kokichi's eyes widened as he finally processed what he was looking at. it was kaito. kaito was here and he had grabbed the ex by his shirt and lifted him up, a furious expression spread across kaito's face.

"the fuck are you doing to kokichi?!" kaito practically roared as he held his free hand in a fist.

after maybe a brief moment of relief, kokichi felt fear and panic grab hold of him, and when he met eyes with kaito he seemed to immediately understand exactly what he was feeling.

kaito let go, letting kokichi's ex drop and stumble as he found his footing. "sorry. I wasn't gonna do anything, I didn't mean to scare you." kaito looked ashamed now, and he turned away from kokichi for a moment. kaito had been working on himself a lot too, specifically dealing with anger issues and his tendency to resort to violence when things got hard to deal with, and he'd been making a lot of progress. kaito knew he would've decked this guy if kokichi hadn't looked so upset, and he felt horrible about it. he felt awful that he was just reverting back to his usual ways, and he felt even more awful because he'd made kokichi feel worse, even if only for a second. he felt like such a disappointment. kokichi felt horrible too, and he felt like it was his own fault that kaito had gotten so worked up, that if he'd just dealt with his ex in another way then kaito never would've gotten dragged into this. kokichi had brought the worst out of himself, and now he felt he was doing the same to kaito, pulling him down with him.

just then, security showed up and asked them to leave. kokichi and kaito both had the thought of telling them that the ex was the problem and that they'd just been going about their day until he started shit, but neither of them said anything, just left without making any more fuss. they gave them their money back for the food at least, but now the whole thing had just been a waste.

when they grouped up with the others outside again, kaito holding kokichi's hand as they walked, everyone was chatting and laughing together as they had been doing all day, but they all quickly realised something was up as they saw how shaken kokichi looked and how kaito's face was scrunched up with frustration. of course they'd also seen that the two of them were empty handed, but that wasn't their main concern.

"guys? what's wrong?" kaede rushed over to see them, a look of worry spread across her face. kaito squeezed kokichi's hand a little tighter as he told them all what he'd walked in on. he decided to do the talking himself, knowing kokichi was struggling at the moment and not wanting him to have to explain everything on top of that. he didn't really know what had been happening exactly, but he'd gathered that this guy had been kokichi's ex, and he knew he'd started something with kokichi because he knew that kokichi would never start anything like that himself now.

maki suggested they all move to somewhere quieter, so they headed down a nearby street that lead to an open area with a park that was surrounded by a long wall that was low enough to sit on. kaito sat with kokichi on the wall, pulling him in close at his side and wrapping his arm around him firmly, reassuringly. kaede sat on kokichi's other side, speaking gently and offering to let him borrow her earphones to listen to some music to help him calm down. he refused, but he appreciated the thought. himiko sat on the grass at his feet in silence, but he knew her well enough now to know she was trying her best to support him, even if she didn't know what to say or do. shuichi and maki sat down beside kaito, who was calmer now, but concerned for kokichi and still upset with himself.

"it's all my fault..." kokichi mumbled sadly, his head resting against kaito and his hand clinging onto his shirt. "it's not your fault. he started it, didn't he?" kaito questioned, already knowing the answer. "not that. I mean... I got you involved." kaito ran the hand that was holding kokichi up and down gently along his arm to comfort him, his free hand reaching to stroke his hair. "don't worry about that, that's not your fault at all. I shouldn't have lost my cool. ...sorry again about startling you." kokichi shook his head. kaito felt kokichi's body start shaking, and he realised he was crying. "I'm the worst... I'm the worst, I'm the worst, I'm the worst." kokichi cried as he buried his face further and tried to hide away. "nothing's changed, I'm just as shitty and horrible and worthless as I always have been... I should've just... done things different... but I did the same as I always do..."

of course. kaito finally realised the real reason why he was so upset. sure he was upset over his ex showing up and the nasty things he'd been saying, but now that they were away from him he was more upset with himself than anything, because he'd worked so hard and he felt like none of that work had actually gotten him anywhere. he felt like change wasn't possible, because if he'd reacted that way then to him that surely meant that he was exactly the same as he'd always been, despite how much he'd tried.

"hey. that's not true and you know it." kaito was about to continue, but miu interrupted. "yep, that's bullshit. ha! if you think you're terrible, that guy sounds ten times worse! what a loser." gonta also spoke up, obviously very upset that anyone would raise their voice at his friend. "hmm... that not how gentleman should act. should be polite, even if ex doesn't like you."

"kokichi, we can all see how far you've come and how hard you've been working, so please don't beat yourself up over this one time. that guy is the one at fault, he put you in a difficult position, a really difficult position, and you wouldn't have reacted that way otherwise." kaede reassured him. "she's right, you wouldn't do that unless you felt you had no other choice." shuichi agreed as he handed kokichi some tissues. kokichi had calmed down somewhat, but he needed to get his emotions out still, so everyone waited patiently, offering words of support every so often, kaito still holding him and placing a few kisses on the top of his head, until kokichi stopped crying and pulled away, sitting up and drying his eyes.

angie jumped up off of the grass. "we should do something fun!" rantaro looked up at her from where he was sitting. "you mean like a distraction?" "nyahahaha! yes! doing something fun will help kokichi take his mind off things and feel better!" "do you have something in mind?" kiibo asked. angie thought about it for a moment. "hmm... nope!" rantaro sighed. "we shall just have to think of something, and we should also find somewhere else to eat as well." kirumi said as she stood up, dusting off the front and back of her dress.

ideas began getting thrown around and the atmosphere lightened up quickly - everyone chatting and suggesting fun things to do together, kokichi just quietly listening, but feeling a lot more comfortable again and appreciating his friends' efforts to cheer him up. it wasn't too long before kokichi was joining in, though, and everyone was relieved to see him slowly returning to his usual self; a bit immature, sometimes annoying, but funny, sweet, so full of life. kokichi was someone they'd all grown to love, no matter how things might have started out for some of them with him, and he wasn't at all who he thought he was when he was feeling down on himself. they hoped that one day kokichi would finally understand that.

#ask #oumota #ouma kokichi #group #drabble #aaaa ty for the ask!! it was rly fun writing some oumota uwu #I feel like there might be some cw tags needed for this one possibly?#but idk what to tag so lemme know if there's any warnings I should add #long post

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iotona · 4 years ago

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Love

Hey again, I wrote something! And don’t ask why I keep coming up with ideas that include pets bc idk either. It’s Arthur x reader, 1500+ words, and fluff/romance? You won’t cry that’s all I know, I think? Thanks for giving it a look!

Love; a word that Arthur had almost forgotten. A one syllable sound that warmed the hearts of many and for others, indescribable pain. Long were the nights Arthur spent at the pub, downing as much alcohol as his body would allow, and entertaining any pretty skirt that so much as flashed him a darling smile. If he wasn’t out on the streets, then he would recluse to his room at the mansion living off of only bitter coffee and the sting in his back that reminded him of all the guilt and shame he carried over the years.

Recently, Arthur tossed in bed for entirely different reasons, obsessing over the tingling in his belly every time he thought of you. When you walked through the door, love came with. It certainly didn’t make itself prevalent right away, oh no. He didn’t feel it when he had the privilege of meeting you, and he surely didn’t see it when he tried to scare you off. But a slow burning feeling that first took his heart by surprise when you had flashed him a smile. It was a small grin like any other pretty lady he took to bed, why would this be any different? Maybe it was the context of his joke, maybe it was the dim lighting of the mansion at night, or the smell of the food you made just for him after his days of writing in solitude. Arthur couldn’t put his finger on why his chest suddenly felt lukewarm and his stomach tingled, nor did he really try, but soon found himself finding love everywhere he went.

Affection oozed out of every cup of coffee you brought him, seeped into the smell of his clothes that you left folded on his bed, and blinded him with every outburst of laughter you blessed him after each cheeky jest. Time spent in his room became less with each day, the dark demons of his past quickly suppressing under the weight of his newfound feelings. Chasing this high, Arthur spent endless nights awake in bed rethinking every interaction between you two. He often planned his days to conveniently intercept yours and you gladly obliged to have his company. And when you agreed to be his little assistant in your free time, ohh did his heart do a million flips.

Arthur’s interest in you soon became adoration. Reverence ruled his thoughts when he watched you work. Your intelligence to solve puzzles, your empathy to communicate and relate, your drive, persistence, your intuition to know what was fishy and what was not impressed him. With all his playfulness, some days Arthur wasn’t sure he’d get through a case without your point of view, but he’d never tell you that. In fact, the one instance you made a small comment about the look of frustration on his brow, he fixed himself with a handsome smile and teased about something or another to deter your focus.

Eventually, your own fondness began to show. Small blushes at Arthur’s praises and nicknames. The way you leaned into even the smallest of touches. How you went out of your way to ensure Arthur had hot coffee and a fresh snack while he wrote. Lending an ear to his stories and giving ample feedback.

Arthur was positive this couldn’t last forever, nothing good and pure ever does. So when the darkness latched onto his legs and held him there, he was sure you wouldn’t come calling, even as it enveloped him once again. He no longer made an effort to leave his room, to eat, to drink, to socialize, or to find you, the precious woman from the future. He was confident that was it, you’d return to through the door soon and he would continue the torturous life he was meant to endure.

Little did the sad man sitting on his overly worn writing chair realize how stubborn you actually were. He had underestimated you, entirely, until the day you came knocking his door down. It was sudden, he didn’t have an ounce of mental energy to understand the earful you were giving him over his astonishment. Something about how cold his coffee must be, and how he couldn’t possibly feel any better in a room so dark. You threw open his curtains and glared at him with a look that had him ashamed and shaking in his Oxford’s simultaneously. And very much like a lost puppy, Arthur agreed to accompany you to the town for bread, something so simple yet so domestic. You swore his wide bewildered eyes never left you that day and ever since then you constantly use that ammunition to your own device.

Then you did something so beyond his comprehension that even now, as he sits in the parlor of the mansion playing a game of chess with Theo, his mind keeps wandering to the night before instead of the bet that lay before him. Like many times before you had accompanied Arthur and Theo to the pub. The night was full of laughs and jokes, drinks to go around, as was per usual. You thought your heart would explode when Arthur suggested a dance and without waiting for your response, tugging on your hand. The music was upbeat, jovial and one too many spins mixed with liquor had you melting into his form when he pulled you close for a slow careen back and forth. You thought, in your inebriated state, how your legs would have probably given out if it wasn’t for Arthur’s hold on your waist and the other holding your hand close to his heart. Buzzing with not only drink but by how captivated you were with the man standing in front of you, you giggled and babbled about how his nose tickled you from brushing so close to your ear. You were so tipsy that when Arthur looked at you with a faint blush and the intent to apologize that you rose to your tip toes and pulled on the lapels of his jacket into a sweet kiss. A kiss that didn’t last long, but enough to deepen the red on his cheeks when you finally pulled away. The rest of the night muddled together, and you hadn’t seen each other since retiring to bed for the night.

Arthur wasn’t afraid of what lay before him now, but his anxiety was evident by the way he bounced his leg up and down during the match, eyebrows furrowed in thought, and eyes boring into the table. Theo thought maybe it was due to the way he was severely losing this game, but when did Arthur ever lose? That itself was incredibly strange, but Theo being the man to not pry did not ask. And thus they continued moving the pieces until Arthur’s inevitable loss.

Again the tiny statues were placed on small white and black squares, to their start. A pawn here, a knight there, Arthur’s gaze was caught by the flash of a bright green skirt out the nearby window. Abruptly standing up, he was completely enamored by the sight before him. Fresh, white, sparkling snow lazily fluttered through the air, remnants of this morning’s storm, adorning every surface outside. The serene and peaceful scene contrasted the way you were running through the mansion’s lower cut bushes and abruptly crouching behind one. If it wasn’t for the spirited look in your face as you peaked around the corner he would’ve thought you were in danger. But who exactly were you running from? Arthur received his answer when two furry four legged dogs came barreling around one side of the building and stopping to smell the air.

Vic was the first to get a scent, and most importantly following your footsteps in the snow. You realized your failure in not being able to cover your tracks and slowly crouched behind another layer of bushes in hopes to throw off the pooch. The crunch of your boots over the fresh snow alerted the bi-colored dog, his small legs immediately running in the direction of the noise, tongue out and ears flapping in joy of the game, just like a certain owner. In an attempt to flee you stood to try and run back, only to find a yellow haired lab blocking your path, foiling your plans. Accepting defeat as both animals ran towards you in glee, you dropped to your knees to deliver many pets and kisses. Little did you know the amount of force King accumulated running towards you, he tried to stop but slipping across the fresh snow until his body collided with yours. If you had learned anything from Isaac’s Laws of Physics it was that a large dog using you as a cement block was not going to end well. You both tumbled into the white fluff, each dog wasting no time in pressing their little wet noses onto your face and neck. The sniffling and small licks had you elated, tickling your sensitive skin, and filling the air with your loud shrieks and giggles.

“Oi, are you going to take your turn?” A particularly annoyed voice sounded from behind Arthur, to which he could only hum in response, give a smooth smile, and hustle out the door to you.

Arthur knew then that any trace of doubt slowly dissolved. He was utterly, completely, and wholly infatuated with you. Every fiber, every bone, every time his heart beat, it was all vibrating with yearning for you. He finally knew and understood the meaning of love. All from you.

If you made it this far, thank you! Feedback is always welcome. :)

tagging: @kisara-16 (thank you for proof reading <3), @nad-zeta

#arthur x reader #ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp arthur #ikemen arthur

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ahkaahshi · 4 years ago

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taste testing [hirugami sachirou x reader]

pairing: hirugami sachirou x fem reader

genre: smut (18+) and fluff

warning(s): explicit sexual content, food play, spitting, reader has one dom moment but I swear to god it’s very fleeting bc that’s not our brand here, and there’s not really any other warnings?? this one was kinda wholesome, good for the soul smut tbh

word count: 4.4k (episode #??? of why am I writing so much?? idk!!)

overview: a heatwave in combination with an accidental ice cream spill end up giving your boyfriend a new idea

“Should I be worried?”

Hirugami rolls his eyes at you mockingly from over his shoulder in response to your comment as you shuffle to one of the stools near the kitchen island. “C’mon, (f/n), have some faith in your reliable boyfriend, why don’tcha?” he teases, turning his attention back to whatever creation he’s concocted on the counter in front of him—which his tall figure blocks from your view.

With a chuckle, you comment, “Well, it’s not often that I get summoned to the kitchen by said boyfriend unless he wants me to try some crazy recipe he developed.” Grabbing the small fan sitting atop the wooden surface and activating its oscillating function so it can blow room temperature air towards you as well, you add, “Besides, with this stupid heatwave I wouldn’t be surprised if you accidentally set something on fire.”

“I cracked an egg on the floor earlier and it didn’t cook, so I think we’re still good, babe.”

His wittiness never fails to elicit a gentle snicker from you, no matter how foul your mood may be, so you can’t help letting one out in spite of your current circumstances. Much to your dismay, the air conditioning unit had decided to succumb to the increased temperatures outside, leaving the two of you in a nearly unbearably hot apartment. Luckily, the power hadn’t gone out, so the two of you were able to keep fans running, and you were able to stick your head in the fridge while he stuck his in the freezer above it. The situation could be much worse, but that knowledge didn’t make it any less unpleasant.

You hadn’t worn a shirt at home in days, resorting to lazing around in a sports bra or bralette and shorts most of the time. Today was no different, and you appreciated every blast of air that the sheen of sweat on your chest and abdomen cooled down each time the fan turned your way. From where you’re sitting, you’re able to admire the ridge of every bone or muscle beneath your boyfriend’s toned back, since he’s only wearing a pair of athletic shorts.

“Well,” he begins, his voice snapping your gaze from his exposed skin to his warm, brown eyes when he peers at you from over his shoulder once more, “wanna know what I made today?” Your enthusiastic approval prompts him to turn away from the counter and place two bowls atop the island filled with a treat you can instantly recognize. “I made some ice cream earlier this morning, and it’s extra cool since I just took it out of the freezer.”

He marvels at the look of awe and excitement on your face as you admire his handiwork, since he’d gone the extra mile to decorate his dessert with chocolate and caramel syrup, some fruit, and a dollop of whipped cream. “Wow! Look at you!” you exclaim before placing your hand around the back of his neck to pull him closer for an appreciative kiss, “Thank you. This looks really good.”

“You sure you’re not just blinded by love?”

Playfully, you give his arm a gentle smack where he stands opposite you, elbows resting on the countertop as he patiently waits to see your reaction to his creation. Prickles of heat rise to your cheeks at the way he’s staring at you so intently, as if he could do so all day long. A small grin forms on your lips when you pick up the spoon resting in the bowl and carefully scoop out a generous serving of the ice cream he’s so carefully prepared. The refreshing coolness and sweet flavor it spreads across your tongue when you place the spoonful in your mouth has you humming with satisfaction and closing your eyes momentarily.

“It’s really good, Sachi,” is the praise that leaves your mouth once you’ve swallowed. You’re soon digging in for another bite, making him laugh at your eagerness. “Seriously, if you hadn’t chosen to be a vet, you could’ve definitely been a pastry chef or something with all the desserts you’ve made for me.”

Wiggling his spoon between his fingers pensively, he wonders, “Maybe I should start an Instagram page, take pictures of my creations, and climb my way to fame in the pastry-loving community.”

“Oh, you’d have so many followers.”

“How do you know?”

“Because you’re a hottie who likes to bake. Simple as that. Trust me,” you explain, reaching over to him to brush his waves of brown hair away from his face, “you’ll have women all over the world sending you tokens of their love and commenting heart or fire emojis underneath your posts. You might even get to be on a talk show if you’re successful enough.”

He nods towards the living room, indicating that he wants to sit down at the table with you to eat and asks, “Is that so? And where are you in all of this?”

You place your hands beneath the cold bowl of dessert and scoot off the stool so you can seat yourself on the floor beside him instead. “Professional taste tester slash content curator slash manager,” you answer with confidence before dipping another spoonful of ice cream between your lips curled in a self-assured smile.

“So fancy,” he states, sending a small wink your way that has your heart fluttering in your chest—as if he’s a high school crush who’s noticed you rather than your boyfriend of three years. Holding up his metal spoon filled with ice cream towards you, he suggests, “Should we toast on our new business deal, then?”

With a giggle, you raise your spoon to his so you can clink them together and continue enjoying the delicious treat he’d prepared just for you. In between scoops, you reach for the television remote to turn it on so you can watch something other than a dark screen and distract yourselves from the stifling heat flooding your home in any way possible. As you’re eating, trying to finish off the ice cream before it melts entirely, you end up accidentally spilling some of it on you.

The squeal you release at the iciness of the dessert trailing down your chin and onto your chest startles Hirugami, and his attention snaps to you instantly. Shuddering at the sensation of the ice cream sliding down your sternum, heading towards the low neckline of your sports bra like it’s on a race against time, you quickly scan the room for any napkins you can grab. “I got it,” your boyfriend offers, placing his bowl down on the table and shifting closer to you.

At first, you think he’s going to reach for the tissues you’d spotted nearby, but you find yourself frozen in place when he suddenly dips his head towards your chest to drag his tongue along your skin. The sensation of the wet muscle gliding along your chest, from the dip of your cleavage all the way up to your chin, has you shivering for an entirely different reason, and he meets your wide-eyed gaze with his calm one once he’s finished.

“Did I get it all?” he questions, purposely feigning cluelessness, as he enjoys doing to tease you.

There are a few beats of silence spent watching one another while you try to regain your composure. Hirugami always found little ways to surprise you, whether he was welcoming you home with something special he’d baked or spreading your legs apart to dive between them after he’d had a rough day. He’d never once attempted the feat he’d just done; however, you find that you’re surprisingly aroused. He seems to notice his actions have had what he deems to be a desirable impact on you when he sees you clench your thighs together and dip your spoon into the ice cream once more.

With intrigue reflected in his gentle eyes, he watches you intentionally press the spoon to your collarbone so the substance can drip down your chest, leaving small, rivers of color over the bones beneath your skin and the shape of your breasts. A somewhat innocent grin spreads across your lips when you feel the ice cream sink below the neckline of your sports bra.

“Hmm,” he murmurs, turning away from you momentarily to grab the bottles of syrup and can of whipped cream he’d brought along with him from the kitchen, “Might as well make this an entire sundae, don’tcha think?” You swallow thickly as he pops open the caps and tasks himself with drizzling the syrup over your chest, deviating from the area once he’s satisfied with his work and allowing a few drops to fall onto your lips.

His tone is sugary sweet, but there’s a devious glint in his eyes. All you can do is nod and lean into the arm he wraps around your back, letting your head roll back so your neck and chest are fully exposed to him. Your heartbeat is quick underneath his tongue when he pulls the top of your sports bra down enough for him to dip it inside and start collecting the trails of ice cream and syrup he’s used to decorate your skin. Almost instinctively, you arch your back towards him in a silent plea for him to give your breasts more attention, but he ignores your request for now and moves up your sternum, towards your chin once more.

When his lips meet yours, the taste of his tongue is sweet as it slides along your own, making you moan softly into his mouth. His hand on your back moves to your waist before traveling up to your shoulder and plucking at the strap of your bra. “Take this off for me,” he requests between heated kisses, “Actually, take your shorts off too, and wait for me in the bedroom. I wanna taste what I made on every inch of you.”

Though you’re hesitant to leave his tight grasp and part your lips from his, you oblige his request and head for the bedroom. After grabbing a towel and laying it out across the comforter so it doesn’t get stained, you strip off the little clothes you’re wearing—but leave your underwear on. Not long after you’ve situated yourself atop the mattress, Hirugami wanders into the room with all the food items he wants to adorn your bare body with.

“Want some?” he asks upon seeing your attention shift to the can of whipped cream when he sets it down atop the bedside table. After receiving a nod from you, he says, “Close your eyes and open your mouth for me, baby.” You do as your told, your heart racing with anticipation as waves of adrenaline course through your veins. The crackling of the whipped cream spurting through the tip of the can reaches your ears moments before you feel his breath fan over your face and his tongue press the cool topping against yours, guiding it into your mouth.

Your hands move to his shoulders to pull his hot body closer to yours, wanting to feel every inch of his skin burning against you in spite of how unbearably warm the apartment is. Your kisses are messy, but neither of you mind, considering how sweet they taste and how intense the craving you have for one another is becoming. When he pulls away from you, he looks uncharacteristically disheveled—cheeks and lips tinted red with warmth, a hint of whipped cream at the sides of his mouth, and his eyes clouded over by an undeniable lust. Because of how calm and composed he usually is, it thrills you to see him like this.

However, his lips are quick to form a grin, as if he finds it entertaining that you saw him in a moment of discomposure. In an instant, he’s reaching for the ice cream nearby and standing beside the bed with a pensive look on his face, like an artist pondering what he should paint on his blank canvas. You squirm a bit under his intensely focused gaze, but soon shiver at the cool sensation of the previously frozen treat dripping onto your chest once more, navigating along the natural ridges and valleys of your body.

As he drizzles ice cream and syrup along your exposed skin in a way that makes sense to him, your attention flits between the look of admiration in his eyes and the prominent bulge in his shorts. He sees where your gaze is drawn and chuckles before picking up a strawberry and pressing it to your lips, which you open to take a bite. At noticing how the juice makes your lips shimmer tantalizingly, he can’t help but swoop in for another open-mouthed kiss. But it’s short-lived, since he’s eager to taste the creation he’s made on your torso instead.

Once more, he opens his mouth and drags his tongue along your skin, being sure to trace every path that the dessert has taken along your figure. You release a small mewl and place your hands on his head, weaving your fingers into his soft hair when he grazes your breast with his nose and lips. The whimpers of appreciation and increasing strength of your grip spur him to lick and suck one of your hardened nipples while he gently pinches the other, coaxing more breathless cries from your mouth at the dull throbbing that’s building in your core.

“Mm,” he hums, sending pleasant vibrations through your body, “so sweet. Want a taste?”

You nod when his face returns to your field of view, hovering over your own as he watches you intently. Your lips part naturally, waiting for him to meet them with his own, but, instead, he places his hand on your jaw and prods your lower lip, signaling for you to open wider. The pucker of his lips soon brings you to the realization that he intends to spit into your mouth—and while you thought you’d be repulsed by the idea; you find yourself sticking your tongue out expectantly. With curiosity, you watch as a glob of saliva leaves his mouth, finding purchase on your tongue and rolling back towards your throat. There’s a pleasant tinge of sweetness to it that you hadn’t fully anticipated, but that you appreciate as you swallow.

The way he’s watching you with such rapture makes your heart pound in your chest. In an instant, he’s occupying your lips once more with his own, showering them with passionate kisses as his long fingers trail down your torso, making their way to the lacy edge of your panties. You hold his body flush against yours, creating a sticky mess between your chests of syrup and ice cream as you wiggle your hips needily and take his lower lip between your teeth. An airy chuckle leaves his throat at your antsy behavior, but he’s soon indulging you by slipping his hand between the delicate fabric and your skin.

His lips soon travel in the same direction as your fingers so he can lap up any of the toppings he’s drizzled along your neck and collarbone while his fingertips tease you by lightly running up and down the length of your slit. Your grip on his shoulders tightens in response to the sensation of his digits coated in your essence sliding along the sensitive skin before one of them takes to tracing circles around your clit while the others slide inside of your tight core.

“Sachirou…” you whine softly, hips bucking against his touch as you feel your body temperature start to rise. Though you love the way his fingers feel inside of you, curling to reach the spongey region within you, and on your bundle of nerves, you’re desperate to feel his tongue since he’s been using it everywhere but where you want it the most. “Could you…?”

He seems to already know what you’re about to ask him, since he responds to your half-finished question with, “You want me to eat you out, baby?”

A breathless “Yes,” from you prompts him to give your neck a few gentle kisses before he removes his hand from inside your soaked panties and moves his head between your legs, treating himself to any food still left on your skin along the way. He presses his lips to the inside of your thighs before taking the fabric separating your dripping pussy from his mouth in his teeth and dragging it down your legs. Once he’s used his hands to slide it all the way off, he casts a somewhat devious glance upwards at you as he blows on your clit, making you squirm beneath his grasp.

You’re about to scold him for teasing you when you’re so vulnerable, but his gently spoken words give you pause: “You’re so beautiful, (f/n).” Moments after the compliment leaves his lips, he’s pressing them against your pearl, followed by his tongue.

The pleasurable burn you feel from his hot breath dancing along your exposed slit has you moaning loudly and sinking your fingers into his hair to inch him closer to your pussy. It’s evident he knows your body like the back of his hand, since he’s precise about his actions, being sure to vary his pace and intensity to make the buildup to your orgasm as enjoyable for you as possible. Where his large hands rest on your thighs, his fingers loosen and tighten their grip, kneading your supple skin. Every needy movement of your hips towards his face has him uttering a gentle groan, reminding you of the satisfaction he always receives from getting you off.

However, in spite of feeling the knot in your stomach loosening with each hungry swipe of his tongue along your clit, you move your hands to the side of his face to nudge him away from you. The confusion he feels is evident in his gaze and furrowed eyebrows, but it soon morphs into one of excitement when you sit up on the bed and motion for him to join you. Before he sits down, you tug at the waistband of his shorts and regard him with a demure gaze through your eyelashes that he reacts to subtly by biting his lip.

With a nod, he allows you to strip them off, then plops onto the comforter beside you and pulls you into his lap. Reaching towards the bowl on the bedside table, you grab another strawberry and the can of whipped cream so you can take the fruit between your teeth and offer it to him with your mouth. The gentle smile he wears spreads onto your own lips when he leans down towards you to carefully take the rest of the strawberry in his own mouth. His lips meet yours in a sweet kiss before you pull away to finish chewing the halves you’ve split with each other.

Grabbing the whipped cream this time, you place the nozzle in front of his mouth, prompting him to open it for you. However, you misfire and end up covering his nose with the fluffy topping instead, sending the two of you into a fit of laughter that he only fuels by using it to smear the whipped cream along yours as well. In spite of the stagnant warmth in the apartment, only disturbed every now and then by a gust from the nearby fan, you find yourself pressing your forehead against his and draping an arm around his shoulders to pull him closer.

The kisses you share are heated and passionate in spite of the sweetness lingering in both of your mouths. Your chest is sticky against his with remnants of food and sweat, but he doesn’t seem to care, since he places his hands on your waist to hold your torso flush against his, only moving them up and down the sides of your body occasionally to feel the shape of you against his palms. Your free hand moving between the two of you to gently stroke his erection elicits a breathless and somewhat surprised moan from his vocal cords that empowers you to curl your fingers around it.

As much as he loves having your hand around his cock, he seems to want more of you, since he’s breaking the connection between your lips to suggest, “Let me fill you up, yeah? I’ll make you feel so good.” Once he’s received enthusiastic consent from you, he gently pulls your hips over his, before slowly guiding you onto his dick, being careful not to hurt you in the process. Low grunts rumble through your own throat when he presses his lips against your neck to trail open-mouthed kisses along your tender skin as he eases inside of you.

Once he bottoms out, you place your palm on the center of his chest to give him a playful push down onto the bed so you can rest your hands at either side of his muscular torso to support yourself as you begin grinding your hips against his. A smirk creeps onto his lips at your sudden act of dominance, since you both know it won’t be long before his large body’s hovering over yours as he plows you into the mattress until your mind is so blank that all you can say is his name overand over again. But he’ll let you have your fun for now, since he knows you like riding him, especially after he’s had a long day and you don’t want him to have to do any extra work.

Plus, he can’t complain when the view above him is spectacular.

“There you go, baby,” he praises, chocolate brown eyes darting down to your hips undulating against his as you take him deeper, “God, you’re so fuckin’ gorgeous.”

His compliments spur you to increase your pace until beads of sweat are glistening on your skin and your body’s starting to shake from both fatigue and pleasure. Each slam of his cock into your sensitive core sends shocks of ecstasy through you, and you know—with the way he’s meeting your hips with thrusts of his own to reach your most receptive spot—that you won’t last long. “S-Sachi!” you cry wantonly, reaching for the hands he has gripping your waist to hold onto them for support, “Harder, please. I’m so close!”

“Don’t worry, pretty girl, I’ll make you cum,” he responds huskily. His face contorts ever so slightly with exertion as he pulls your hips down so he can snap his against them, filling the room with loud smacks of your skin meeting. Upon feeling your hips stutter beneath his palms, he quickly sits up and guides you onto your back so he can plunge deeper inside of you at a much faster pace. “That feel good?”

“Yes! Yes, it’s—ahh—so good, baby!” You’re surprised by your ability to form coherent words while he’s balls-deep inside of your pussy, filling your entire body with pleasure that’s nearly too much to bear. “Please!”

You don’t have to finish your sentence for him to understand what you’re trying to say, since his pace and intensity have you coming undone for him only a few moments after you’ve spoken. His voice is low and guttural as he growls, “Mm, just like that,” at feeling your walls flutter around him affectionately. Your loud cries of his name fill his ears, edging him closer to his own orgasm as he fucks you through yours. “You feel s-so good,” he rasps, “C’mon, make me cum. Yeah, that’s it; that’s it, baby.”

Soon, the sensation of being inside your tight heat as you squeeze him lovingly has him finishing with a string of expletives, followed by praises rolling off his tongue. Hot spurts of his release filling you up in the midst of your high have you mewling breathlessly until you’re left in a euphoric haze that renders your entire body too heavy to move. Once Hirugami’s ridden out his orgasm as well, he lets out a long sigh of both exhaustion and satisfaction before sinking into the bed beside you.

A few minutes of silence ensue as the two of you regain your breath and find the energy to move once more. In a tender gesture, Hirugami grabs the towel beneath you and uses it to wipe off any remaining food or sweat that’s accumulated on your skin before doing the same with his own body. As the two of you lie together, staring up at the ceiling while waiting for the fogginess to subside, you hear a familiar click that instantly makes you hold your breath with anticipation. Sure enough, the sound is followed by a familiar whirring, then a cool breeze against your skin from the vent on the ceiling.

“Yes!” you cheer, clenching your hand into a fist to express your gratitude towards the workers who have finally fixed your air conditioning unit.

With a small hum of contentment, Hirugami extends his arm out towards you to bring you closer to his chest. Now that there’s cold air circulating around the room, you welcome the gesture and curl up beside him. “Well, now that the AC’s working, does that mean you don’t want any more ice cream?” he wonders, lips brushing against your temple before he presses a kiss to it.

“Of course not! I mean, as long as you still have some that’s actually frozen.”

He laughs nervously and admits, “Full disclosure: I got a bit carried away and made enough to last for at least a few weeks, I think.” Upon seeing the incredulous look on your face, he elaborates, “I followed a recipe created by someone for her son’s birthday party of like thirty kids, so… that’s a lot of servings.”

“Sachirou!” you laugh, nuzzling your face in his neck, “Why did you do that?”

“Didn’t know how long the AC would be out. I thought I planned ahead pretty well, actually.”

“In that case, I would love to have some more of your ice cream.” He beams at you and pulls you into a hug so tight that your skin is sticking together when you pull away. “But let’s go in the shower first. Please.”

“Don’t know what to make next, though,” Hirugami murmurs as he sits up before grabbing onto your hands to help you into a seated position so the two of you can head into the bathroom. “But,” he adds, turning to you and leaning down towards you so he can press a chaste kiss to your lips, “what I do know is that I’d love be able to sample it on you again.”

treat me to a coffee! ⭐︎ kinktober masterlist

taglists (see pinned post on my blog for form)

general: @dinablossom, @newfriendjen, @devlovesramen, @ohbyunhunn, @aftcrlust, @mister-future, @kyleclxin, @kac-chowsballs, @osamusmiya, @nit-sir-hc, @arixtsukki, @shinsurou, @ichorizaki

hirugami: @hqxreader, @pretty-setters, @misora-msby, @atsunakaashi

#haikyuu x reader #hirugami sachirou x reader #hirugami x reader #haikyuu smut #ahkaahshi gets wild #ahkaahshi's mini kinktober 2020 #fran writes hq!!#hq smut #x reader #reader insert #haikyuu fanfiction #hirugami sachirou #hirugami sachiro

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harrywritingsbyme · 5 years ago

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Control

Based off of this ask

And this one

(Had to repost bc Tumblr sucks ass sometimes)

A/N: The long awaited sub!Harry fic is finally here!!! This is my first Sub!Harry piece, so I really hope you guys like it! Btw it’s FILTHY...like FILTHY FILTHY! Enjoy🙃

5.3k words

When you left home this morning, you were looking forward to coming home on a Friday night and watching movies while eating pizza with Harry. But by the time lunch came around, there was a complete change in those plans. The plans still involved you and Harry, except you guys were going to be doing a lot more than just eating pizza and watching movies.

You were in your office finishing up a project that you were working on when your phone went off next to you. You stop what you’re doing to see who it was, and you find that Harry had sent you a video. You click into your messages and you open it up to find Harry with his hand tightly wrapped around his hard cock. Just from looking at the thumbnail you can see how hard and desperate he was to cum. You can see his swollen red tip leaking with precum and your legs almost instinctively snap shut. You quickly search for your earbuds that are somewhere on your desk because you really wanted to watch this, but you didn’t want to take any chances when it came to the possibility of your coworkers hearing Harry moaning through your phone.

You get comfortable in your chair and you begin to play the video. Your eyes are instantly met with Harry’s cock. He was rock hard, and you could see all of the thick and prominent veins running up his shaft. As soon as the video began, you could hear Harry’s whimpers and whines. Your mind immediately began thinking about taking control and having him at your mercy. Hearing and seeing how needy he was got you really worked up. Most of the time Harry was in control and the both of you loved every second of that, but every once in a while Harry was in his own little subspace and the both of you absolutely loved that too. You could just tell from the high pitched moans that he was in his subspace. You could also tell from the way his hands were feverishly tugging at his cock. You continued to watch the video, following every last one of his movements. You watched him push his free hand further between his legs, cupping his balls in it. You watched his hips lift up from the bed from this and his moans become even more strained and desperate. You then watch him do something that made you want to move your hand between your legs so bad. You watched him push the hand that was playing with his balls further down, he pushes a finger past the underside of his ass and he begins to circle his finger around his entrance. He spreads some of the precum that dripped down from his cock around his hole and he slowly pushes his finger in. He keeps his other hand wrapped around his cock and he begins to sloppily tug at his shaft while delivering shallow thrusts with his finger into his ass.

You guys had tried anal out on each other before and you both really enjoyed it. But seeing Harry pushing a finger past the tight ring of muscles and into his tight hole was something completely different. Seeing him doing that to himself caused you to even let out a small moan. You couldn’t explain how hot it was to see him like this but you knew for a fact that you needed more. Not too long after, you watch Harry’s cock practically erupt with his cum. You watch the thick and creamy substance continuously pour out of his cock. His cum gushes out all over his hand and down his cock to his balls and he even pulls his finger out and smears his cum around his tightened hole. You can hear the labored pants of relief leaving his lips. He then sits up and he stops the video.

Even though the video is over, you’re still looking at the screen, replaying everything you just watched over and over again. You didn’t know how you were going to get through the rest of the day after seeing that. It was only 12, so you had five more hours before you could leave and go home. You so badly wanted to use some of your time and just leave early. But as you mulled it over on your way to lunch you came up with an even better idea. You decide to stay at work until you got off, but you were going to tease Harry a little bit until you got home. While you’re waiting for your food, you decide to send Harry a simple text that you knew for a fact would turn him on again.

Y/n: Don’t forget to clean up your mess baby boy ;)

Once you send it, you place your phone into your purse. That way if Harry were to send you a text back, you wouldn’t see it. You were doing this because you wanted him to beg for you to touch him once you arrived home. You wanted him to be desperate and needy, you wanted to hear his strangled moans and whimpers as you touched his swollen cock. You wanted to be in complete control.

You desperately wanted to see both sides of Harry today.

You were very familiar with his dominant side. Given that there were many times where you had to be punished and there were times where you just wanted Harry to just take control of you. You couldn’t even count the instances where you were either bent over his knee or the arm of the couch, pressed against the wall or another nearby surface, or weren’t allowed to cum. Just this morning Harry pressed you against the wall of the shower and pounded his cock into you. He had a hand wrapped tightly around your throat, a hand on your hip to keep you flush against the wall and his cock pushed all of the way into you. His lips were pressed against your ear telling you how much of a good girl you were for him and how you were made to take his cock inside of you. You even had to take a little bit more time when you were doing your makeup because of how tight he had his hand wrapped around your throat. You didn’t know how prominent the marks were going to show up throughout the day, so you put on a little bit more makeup around your neck, and you even made sure to wear a collared shirt when you went into the office. Whenever Harry was in his dominant space, the pleasure he gave you was something beyond the feelings that came with euphoria. Whenever you thought back to those times, you never failed to clench your thighs together.

You loved that dominant and rough side of Harry, but you also loved his submissive and needy side too.

You got a rush whenever you were the submissive one, but the feeling of being in charge gave you even more of a rush. You loved pushing him to the limit. Making him cum over and over again to the point where he begged you to let him take a break. Whenever you were in control, you loved to suck Harry’s cock from behind. To have him bent over on the bed for you was a sight that you never got tired of. Having him in that position gave you complete access to him and it allowed you to pleasure him fully. Using your hands and mouth to please him was something that you absolutely loved. By using your hands and mouth, you got to tease him. You didn’t give him what he really wanted right away, you made him continuously beg you for it. When Harry was in his subspace he always begged for your pussy, he always wanted you to sink down onto his cock. He desperately needed to feel your walls wrapped around him. Sometimes if he was really needy you’d just let him fuck you, but other times you’d hold off on letting him fuck you, and you’d play with him a little bit. You’d make him cum a few times and then you’d either ride his cock or you’d let him fuck you. Seeing him completely at your mercy turned you on in ways you couldn’t explain. You loved milking every last drop of cum out of his cock and seeing him thrash against the bed. Even the slightest touch could set him off. This was a side of him that never failed to blow your mind.

You knew for a fact that Harry was at home ready and waiting for you. You could just picture him at home lying on the bed stroking his cock. His eyes are squeezed shut and he’s letting out the neediest moans. His feet are planted on the bed and he’s shoving his hips up into his hand. You can just hear his high pitched moans, calling out your name just like he would if you were there. No matter how much lube he squirted onto his his hand, nothing could measure up to your cunt. He tried to tighten his grip on his cock, but it wasn’t the same as having you wrapped around him. He was supposed to be doing work, but he couldn’t get his need for you under control. From the time you left home, having you on his cock and having you control him consumed his thoughts. No matter how hard he tried, thoughts about you having your way with him creeped back into his mind and it made his cock stiffen in his pants. So, he was pretty much stuck in bed, with his hand wrapped around his cock.

You were so consumed in your thoughts that you completely forgot about your lunch, luckily for you they hadn’t finished yours yet. Eventually when they did you stood up to grab your order, and you immediately wanted to sit back down. When you stood up, you felt your arousal gliding between your folds. You grab your food from the counter and you quickly make your way back to work. When you get back inside of your office you close the door and you sit back behind your desk. You sit everything in front of you and you dig inside of your bag for your phone. You see that you had three new messages from Harry. As you suspected, all of them were along the lines of how bad he needed you and how he couldn’t take his hands off his cock. All you could do was smirk at how bad he needed you.

Y/n: Such a needy little thing. I’ll take good care of you when it get home.

You sent him one final text before putting your phone away. You continued on with eating your lunch before getting back to work. The next few hours felt like forever. You were constantly looking at the clock, waiting for it to strike five. Because once it did, you were dropping everything and you were going home to Harry.

Once it was time to go, you quickly gather up all of your things and you made a b-line to the elevators. You made your way out of the building and to your car. You threw you and your stuff inside and you sped home. As you got closer and closer, you got more and more excited. When you finally got home you parked your car in the driveway and you gathered up your things. You took a quick look in the mirror and you got out. When you first opened the front door, you’re immediately hit with a warm smell of spices so you knew where you could find Harry. You drop your things onto the couch and you walk down the hall towards the kitchen.

Harry knew that you were home. He could hear your heels clicking against the floor with every step you made. He wasn’t the only one who knew that you were home though. His cock knew it too. With every step you took he could feel his cock hardening in his pants. He didn’t know how this would play out. He was hoping that you’d be nice and take care of him. But there was also the possibility that you could make him take care of himself. His thoughts immediately come to a halt when he feels your arms wrapping around his middle from behind. He feels your body pressing against his, and it only makes his cock twitch in his pants.

“Hey baby, how was your day?” You mewl into the skin below his ear. Your heels gave you a few more inches of height so you were able to press your lips against the side of his neck.

“It was, um, it was good.” You can hear him swallow thickly. You could tell that he was just waiting for you to do something. So you did.

One of your hands leaves his waist and you feel around to turn off the burner in front of him. You then slide one hand under his shirt and you take your other and you toy with the drawstrings of his joggers.

“So you had a good day?’ You question him further.

“Mhm” he whimpers and nods. You push your finger past the waistband and you just move it back and forth to tease him a little.

“How many times did you cum today?” You whisper in his ear. You attach your lips to his skin, sucking a little harder at times so that when you pulled away, a fresh hickey would be left on the delicate skin.

“Three times. Oh my-“ he stutters. You then push the hand that was playing with the waistband of his pants fully inside. You wrap your fingers around him and you begin to tug at his cock.

“Wanna cum again?”

“Oh my god yes, please!” Harry begs gripping onto the edge of the counter for support. You couldn’t help but chuckle at how desperate he was to cum.

“Such a greedy little thing. Such a greedy baby boy for me.” you whisper into his ear before pulling away completely. He turns around to see where you went and you pull at him so that he’s pressed against the counter behind you. You turn around and you sink to your knees in front of him. You hook your fingers around the waistband of his pants and you slowly pull them down. You pull them down to about mid thigh and now his completely hard cock was in front of you. You lean in and you press your lips into the soft flesh of his thighs. You scatter a few pecks along with a few soft bites across the skin of both of them, not once touching his cock. You could hear his soft begs above you and you knew for a fact that you had all of the control. You wrap your soft hand around him and you sponge a wet kiss to the head, causing a hiss to leave Harry’s mouth. You then suckle the thick head into your mouth and you swirl your tongue around his leaky slit.

“Fuck” Harry sighs. Feeling your mouth wrapped around his cock was what he’d been needing all day. He was just hoping that you’d let him cum.

You take more of him into your mouth and you grip onto one of his thighs. You knew for a fact that Harry had a little bit of a pain kink so you softly rake your nails against his skin. You hear him moan even louder above you and you push your mouth all of the way down his cock until you could feel him nudging at the back of your throat. You stay like this for a little bit longer before you pull completely off of him. You wrap your hand back around his cock and you tug at his wet shaft. While you continue to tug at his cock, you use the hand that was once on his thigh to grab his balls. You roll them around in your palm, and you look up to find Harry tightly gripping the edge of the kitchen counter with his eyes screwed shut. You begin to move your hands faster against him, and you can feel him pushing hips into your hand.

“M’gonna cum.” Harry whines. At this, you pull away from him all together. You swirl your tongue around the sensitive head of his cock before pulling his joggers back up to his hips. You stand back up in front of him and you can see in his eyes how much he needed to cum.

“How about you go upstairs and get on your hands and knees on the bed and wait for me.” You order. He softly nods his head and makes his way upstairs to the bedroom.

You grab the bottle of wine from the fridge and you pour yourself a glass to take the edge off before heading upstairs. You start undoing the buttons on your shirt as you walk closer to your shared bedroom. When you walk in you see Harry on the bed in the position you wanted him in. He was completely naked on all fours in the bed. You silently enter into the room and you take all of your clothes off. You then walk into the closet and you grab the little box you and Harry would pull out every once in a while. It contained all of the things that you guys may need for special occasions.

You come back into the bedroom and you make your way over to Harry. You kneel onto the bed behind him and you place the box next to you. You can see his hardened cock just hanging between his legs and your mouth (and pussy) begin to water. You were dying to see him like this all day, completely at your mercy, ready to take whatever you gave him. You smooth your hands up the backs of his thighs up to the flesh of his ass snd you give him a few light but firm taps, causing Harry to release a small grunt. You then move one of your hands down to his cock. You wrap your hand around him and you tug on him in a downward motion. You move in closer to him and you attach your lips to the area right below his balls. You lick a wide stripe from his balls all of the way up to his puckered hole, and you swirl the tip of your tongue around the sensitive area while continuing to stroke his cock. You keep your mouth around his hole, pushing the tip of your tongue against his entrance. While you continue to lap your tongue around the area, you remove your hand from his cock and you place both hands on the flesh of his ass and you spread them apart, giving you even more access to him. You lick up and down the expanse of his ass and you can hear his deep moans resonating throughout the room. All you could hear were his groans and moans, along with the wet sound of your tongue gliding against his skin. His upper body then falls onto the bed, leaving his hips still up in the air. You pull your mouth away, and you can see his skin glistening from the way you sloppily licked into him.

“You like this baby boy? You like when I play with your pretty ass?” You drag your fingers back to his puckered hole and you lightly circle it around his entrance. You look down and you see his cock twitch at the feeling.

“Mhm” he mumbles into the pillows. Harry didn’t know how to describe how he felt. The only word that could encapsulate all of his feelings would be bliss. Sure, you’ve touched him like this and you’ve played with him before. But he couldn’t get enough of it. He loved the way your mouth moved against him and the way your tongue licked into him. The way his cock felt when you jerked him off from behind felt incredible to him. He wanted to be good for you and cum when you told him to, but with the way you were playing with him, he didn’t know how long he’d last. Harry is then knocked out of his thoughts when he feels your hand crash down against his skin. He couldn’t help but let out the most pitiful moan. He really didn’t know how much longer he could go without cumming.

He then feels you softly pull his cock back between his legs and you suck him into your mouth. You suck hard on his cock while the hand that’s wrapped around him tugs at whatever isn’t in your mouth. You feverishly suck at his cock, making sure to keep a tight grip on him too. Your free hand drifts back up to his ass and you press a finger against his opening.

“Fuck” Harry groans. He was dying to feel you push a finger into him. You press down a little harder, pushing your finger fully into him. “Oh my- fuck” Harry yells into the pillows. You continue to suck his cock, keeping a tight grip on his shaft. You thrust your finger in and out of him, every so often pushing it a little deeper inside. Every time you went a little deeper, you heard Harry’s moans and whines get louder. Hearing Harry’s reactions to what you were doing with out a doubt made you wet. You were absolutely positive that your arousal was dripping onto the bed below you.

You suck your mouth in around his cock, and you pull off of him, making a popping sound. His cock falls out of your mouth and it just hangs between his spread legs again. You glide your tongue around his balls and you suck them into your mouth before sucking hard on them and popping them out of your mouth the same way you did with his cock. You lay your tongue flat against him and you lick from the underside of his balls all the way back up to his puckered hole. You do the exact same thing he’d do whenever he ate you out and you bury your face in him. You pull away just to crash your hands down onto the soft flesh of his ass. You see a few light red marks on his skin and you decide its time to tease him a little more.

“Okay, now lay on your back for me.” You whisper to him, giving his thigh a squeeze. Harry immediately turns around and he lays on the bed in front of you. You crawl on top of him and you smear your lips onto his, you wanted him to taste himself in your mouth. He instantly parts his lips for you, giving your tongue access to his mouth. You fell him jut his hips against your lower stomach, and you can hear him release a string of soft whimpers into your mouth. Your lips curl up into a smile against his, you just enjoyed watching and feeling him try to cum on his own. You pull away from his mouth and you look at him to find his eyes glossed over and his cheeks completely flushed.

“Need t’cum so bad.” he begs, continuing to push his hips up against you.

“Since you’ve been such a good boy, I’ll let you cum…” you begin. “just not before I tie you up” you finish with a little smirk. You pull up off of him and you reach towards the end of the bed to grab the box you pulled out earlier. You remove the lid and you pull out the ties that you and Harry would use on each other. You wrap them around his wrists and you tie them together, making sure that they were comfortable and secure on him. You place another pillow behind his head so that his head could be propped up a little bit because you wanted him to watch what you were about to do. You turn around and you swing your leg onto the other side of him so that you were in the 69’ing position. You make sure that your lower half is resting right on his lower chest. Making your dripping center right at eye level, but far enough away so he couldn’t lick into you. This was the ultimate ‘torture’ for Harry. You knew how much he loved to just bury his head between your legs and just eat you out. Whenever he had the opportunity to lick into you, he would, so you knew that this was going to be really hard for him. When you lay against him like this, you see his cock twitch in front of you, letting you know that your plan was working.

When you laid on him like this, Harry immediately knew that he was a goner. Seeing your sopping wet center in right in front of his face, but not being able to lick into you was absolute torture. He could smell your arousal from where his face was. He could feel your juices dripping onto his skin, and he could see your lips spread open for him. To add onto this, he feels your mouth wrap around his cock again. With your dripping cunt being less than a foot away from his face and your mouth on his cock, Harry didn’t think he could last any longer.

You push your mouth down onto him and you take him all the way into your mouth. You hold your mouth there before you come back up for air. His cock was glistening and completely coated with your saliva, and you start to pump him hard and fast. You nudge at Harry’s thigh for him to spread his legs and you put your mouth onto him for the final time. While you’re sucking him off you use one of your hands to tug at and squeeze his balls. Hearing his moans behind you and playing with his cock right now was making the throbbing sensation between your legs become even greater. So, you decided to releive some of the pressure. You start to grind your hips down against him, and your can feel your throbbing clit rubbing against him. You couldn’t help but moan against his cock at how good it felt. Seeing you pushing your cunt against him just pushed Harry completely over the edge. He couldn’t hold it back any more. Everything you were doing to him sent him into overload and he needed to cum. He lets out the most sinful sound you’d ever heard, and he releases all of his cum into your mouth. All of his cum that you were dying to taste all day was flowing right into your mouth. You swallow all of it and you pull off of his cock. You lightly lick up all of the residual cum that was left behind and you hold it in your mouth.

You pull yourself off of him and your straddle his waist so that you were facing him. You bring your face down to his and you can see a tired out yet ready for more expression written across Harry’s face. You reach up and you wrap your hand around his throat and he opens his mouth for you. You lean down and you spit into his mouth. As soon as you do this he shuts his mouth, swallowing his cum.

“You like eating your own cum baby.” You whisper down to him. “I bet you lick all the cum off your hands after you play with your cock. Don’t you baby boy?” He nods at you through your grip on his neck. “I may even let you eat your cum out of my pussy if you keep being a good boy for me.” You remove your hand from around his neck and you sit back against his hips.

“Please” Harry whimpers. You reach behind you and you grab onto his cock.

“Still wanna fuck me baby boy?” You lift your hips up from his and you glide his cock between your folds. You already knew the answer would be yes, given the fact that he was still hard, after he just came. You just wanted him to beg you for it.

“So bad, please Y/n.” Harry whines

“You have been a good boy for me.” You keep your hips raised and you line his cock up with your wet entrance. “And you deserve a reward” you finish, slowly sinking down onto his hard cock. The both of you let out a sigh of relief. You take all of him inside of you and you sit against his upper thighs. You lean up against his upper body and you reach for the ties around his wrists. You untie them and you toss it onto the bed. You whisper the two words Harry wanted to hear, “Fuck me”. As soon as you say this Harry wraps his arms around you, pulling you down against his chest. He then slams his hips up into yours, sending his cock deep inside of you. He thrusted into you over and over again, keeping a tight grip on you.

“Feel so good” Harry pants. All day long he was thinking about being inside of you. As much as he enjoyed you being in control and your teasing, he desperately wanted to be inside of you. Pushing his cock into you over and over again. He can already feel his second release of the night just bubbling up inside of him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck” you shout. Finally having him inside of you felt so good after a day of just teasing not only Harry, but yourself. You’d been containing yourself all day but now you were finally about to let go. You can feel Harry’s thrusts start to become a little messy and you could tell he was about to cum again. And so were you. While he continues to thrust up into you you push your hips down to meet his thrusts. “Oh my- fuck I’m cumming” you cry out. Your walls tighten up around him and he continues to fuck up into you. Then through his thrusts you can feel Harry’s cum spilling into you.

Eventually his thrusts slow down and his grip on you loosens. You continue to lay on top of him, completely filled to the brim with his cock and his cum. You lift your head from his neck and you look up at him. You could tell from his eyes that he was back to his normal self.

“Hi” you whisper up to him with a smile.

“Hi” he replies back. He softly runs his hand up and down your back and he leans into you to press a small kiss to the tip of your nose.

“That was fun.”

“Yeah, I should let you play with m’bum more often.” he suggests, before pulling his bottom lip between his teeth.

“That sounds like a plan.” The two of you lay there in silence before you begin to speak again. “Im hungry” you blurt out.

“Well how about we go downstairs eat some of the dinner I spent time making. Well you can at least, m’gonna be eating something else.” He says the last part suggestively, referring back to your proposition from earlier.

“Thats only if you’ve been a good boy” you smirk.

“Oh we’ll see about that.”

Lets just say that your Friday night was far from being over.

Masterlist

#Harry Styles #harry smut #harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles blurb #harry x you #harry styles x you #harry x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry x y/n #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #concepts of h #harrywritingsbyme #harry styles writings #my harry writing

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clareguilty · 4 years ago

Text

By Your Side

Hello i wanted these two to smooch bc i think theyre very cute alsdjaldjasl

Arthur Morgan/Kieran Duffy Rating: T | No Warnings Word Count: ~2100

It was weeks before Arthur was on his feet again. Abigail said the wound in his shoulder must have gotten infected, that his body was overworked enough as it was. She threatened to tie him to the bed.

He was never alone for too long. The girls took shifts, sitting with him, reading to him, feeding him. Lenny, Hosea, even John. They were all there for him.

Marston, damn him. Sat there for hours, arms crossed and brows pinched. Hardly said a word, just groused and grumbled and looked at Arthur like he couldn't decide if he wanted to hit him or kiss him.

Arthur had felt the same way after John nearly got eaten by wolves. The bonds of brotherhood or something like that, he figured.

And then there was Kieran. Duffy boy. Not an O'Driscoll. Skittish and quiet, only ever coming around when no one else was nearby.

Even though Arthur was laid up with a bum shoulder and battered ribs, Kieran was afraid of him. Always looked ready to bolt at a moment's notice.

But he kept coming around. There was something pushing him to fight that meekness.

Arthur finally found out late one night. It was dark, and all he could see of the boy was the silhouette of his unkempt hair. But he was there.

"I know how Colm can be," Kieran said. Quiet. Apologetic. "No one deserves that. Especially not you."

Arthur was quiet for a moment. So that was it.

"You don't deserve it either."

Kieran's breath hitched, like no one ever told him that before. Arthur's heart ached. He had been cruel to the boy, and he regretted it.

"You hear me, boy?" Arthur asked. "You're too good for this. You deserve better."

Kieran sniffled and was gone in an instant.

He didn't stop coming around. Continued to spend his nights sitting quietly near Arthur. It was nice, not being alone.

"Duffy," Arthur hissed one night.

"Yea?"

"How's my horse? I want to see her."

"She's just fine Mr. Morgan. I've been spoiling her these past few weeks for you."

Arthur huffed. At least the beast was in good hands. Arthur preferred the company of his horse to most everyone, and he hated being away from her for so long. But he trusted that Kieran was taking good care of her.

"How far can you walk?" Kieran asked.

"I dunno, Abigail never lets me get very far." Arthur had been confined to a very small radius the past several weeks. Every time he tried to sneak away from his bed, someone caught him and turned him back around.

"Well," Kieran said slowly. "She's asleep right now. Grimshaw too."

Arthur was already pushing himself up, groaning in pain. Kieran was at his side in an instant. "Here, Mr. Morgan. Lean on me."

Arthur was heavier than Kieran anticipated, even after his infection had weakened him. Still, the two of them stumbled and staggered towards the horses. It was slow going, but Arthur was determined.

The horse looked fine -- cleaner than ever before. Kieran must have brushed her every single day. As soon as she saw Arthur, she stomped her hooves and tossed her head.

"Hey there, Old Girl," Arthur reached for her with his good arm. "I've missed you."

Kieran huffed and wheezed as he shouldered Arthur's weight, but it was worth it to see the way his eyes crinkled. Arthur looked happier than he had in a long time. They made their way back to Arthur's bunk, laughing as Kieran nearly toppled them both.

Abigail gave him hell for walking, but Arthur didn’t mind too much. He shot a wink at Kieran while she ranted and raved about “rest” and “saving his energy.”

And damn if Kieran didn’t blush bright red, nearly tripping over himself. It made Arthur’s heart swell.

Teasing Kieran was far too satisfying. The poor boy wore his heart on his sleeve. Arthur constantly ribbed him.

“You’re too young to be drinking that, boy.” Arthur snatched a bottle of shine from his hand. Was Abigail going to chew him out for getting drunk? Probably. Was it worth it to see the way Kieran’s eyes widened as Arthur licked a stray drop from the lip of the bottle? Definitely.

Finally, finally finally -- Arthur was strong enough to get back to work.

There was no chance of him going out. He could hardly walk the length of camp without needing to sit down for a while, but he itched to work, to be useful. The girls enjoyed the company, teasing Arthur for his shoddy sewing skills and unevenly cut vegetables. As long as he didn’t have to spend another minute trapped in that damn bed he would take as much criticism as Susan could dish out.

His strength came back, and he could carry crates and bags of feed and bales of hay. So he took to working with the horses alongside Duffy boy. He was easy company, and even easier to tease. They were both quiet, good with the horses, content to spend long afternoons sitting in the sun, Arthur sketching quietly in his journal and Kieran sprawled out in the grass letting his mind wander. Arthur often wondered what went through the boy’s head. He was too sweet for his own good, foolish. Not terribly bright but certainly filled with plenty of ideas under his ratty old hat.

“You’re awful kind for a killer, Mr. Morgan,” he remarked one day out of the blue.

Arthur bit back the first words that flew to his tongue, an empty threat that would send the boy running with his tail between his legs. Instead he chewed his lip for a moment, considering.

“I don’t just kill anybody. I tend to try to leave more alive than I do dead -- when I get the chance that is.” Arthur shrugged.

“Like me?” The boy was looking at him with those wide, pleading eyes. Arthur could never quite figure out if the kid wanted something from him or if he just looked like that.

Again, he had to hold himself back. He no longer took pleasure in scaring the boy shitless, and he had to fight the reflex in him that always wanted to growl and threaten. It was okay to let his guard down. As much as he hated to say it, he trusted the boy.

“Yeah, like you,” Arthur shook his head. “Who else would humor me like this? Certainly not Bill.”

“You think I’m funny?” Kieran’s head cocked to the side. He looked puzzled.

“Yeah,” Arthur said flatly. “Hilarious.

The boy pouted. Arthur had to admit it was effective. “You’re teasing me again,” he whined.

“You make it too easy.” Arthur reached out and ruffled his hair. Kieran practically melted under the touch. He flushed bright pink, a dopey grin spreading across his face before he ducked away, skittering off like he always did.

The boy cowered and ran under any kind of attention, so Arthur had to hide his staring. He didn’t care who else saw him as long as Kieran didn’t know he was being watched.

He liked watching Kieran. He was sweet and eager and gentle. From what little he had gathered of Kieran’s past, he had every excuse to be just as bitter and angry as the rest of them. Arthur was a selfish fool, he knew, but he wanted as much of that sweetness as he could get.

“What’s with you and the O’Driscoll?” Marston asked, sitting down directly in Arthur’s line of vision and effectively blocking his view of Kieran and Mary-Beth sitting together with a book

“He’s not an O’Driscoll,” Arthur grumbled.

John’s grin turned sly. “You’re too easy to read, Morgan.”

Arthur took another drink from his beer. Since he couldn’t watch Kieran, he enjoyed the way the afternoon sun played off of the surface of the water. “I will drown you in the lake,” he said coolly.

“Then you’d have to deal with Abigail bein’ sore with you. I’m pretty sure she wants the privilege of drowning me.” John looked far too pleased with himself. He thought he was so damn clever.

“We’ll do it together then.”

Marston let out a loud, raspy laugh, banging the table with his fist. Arthur almost wished he would go back to sulking and whining about his scratches.

“I’ll leave you to your staring then,” John shook his head, still chuckling, and wandered off.

Arthur felt like he was stumbling. Unsure of himself and out of his depth. There were many things he could do: kill, rob, steal, ride, shoot. He did not know how to be sweet. But he wanted to. He wanted to show Kieran the same kindness and consideration that he had shown Arthur. He wanted to make up for how cruel he had been to the boy.

When was finally feeling well enough to ride into town, he stopped by the general store to refill his satchel with supplies. The barrels of taffy would normally have never caught his eye, but he remembered how excited Kieran had been when Mary-Beth broke off a piece of her chocolate for him. Kieran liked sweet.

Arthur bought two bags.

Jack was thrilled to get a bag of candy. Abigail thanked Arthur for his thoughtfulness and eyed the second bag with a gleaming curiosity. It felt like everyone in camp was conspiring against him.

Kieran smiled so brightly when he noticed Arthur heading his way. He hadn’t even given him the damn candies and he was already beaming. Arthur did his best not to fumble his words.

“Finally managed to get to the store, and I picked these up for you. I noticed you liked sweets and I was already getting some for the boy-” Arthur cut himself off with a shrug, awkwardly holding out the bag of candies.

They were both blushing fools. Kieran took the bag, holding it delicately as if it were the most valuable thing in the world. “I can’t wait to share them with you, Mr. Morgan.”

And Arthur knew he was done for.

Kieran was filthy. Covered in mud and dust, hair unkempt and unwashed. It had stormed recently, and everyone was covered in dirt to some degree. Somehow Kieran had attracted the worst of it.

Arthur frowned at the boy. One of the mares hadn’t taken too well to the weather, and Kieran hadn’t left the horse’s side since. He was breaking of small pieces of oatcake and waiting patiently for the horse to eat. He lit up with a smile every time, and Arthur wanted to kiss him so badly.

But the boy was covered in mud.

Arthur waited until the horse had finished eating before striding over and hauling Kieran up by the scruff. “Come on, Duffy. We’ve got to get you clean.”

Kieran was taken by surprise, tripping over his own feet as Arthur dragged him along. “It’s no trouble Mr. Morgan. I’d just wind up dirty again tomorrow anyways. The ground’s not dry yet.”

“Then we can wash you again tomorrow,” Arthur said. He led them through the trees towards a nice stretch of creek, running water, about waist deep. It was a nice spot to bathe when he couldn’t make it back into town.

“Strip,” Arthur was already tugging his own boots off, digging a bar of soap out of his satchel. Kieran only hesitated a moment before shrugging out of his clothes. Those would need to be washed too, but Arthur was too busy dragging the boy into the water with him to care.

Kieran didn’t protest as Arthur lathered up the soap and began scrubbing mud and dirt off the both of them. He had always craved Arthur’s touch, and the scrape of the callouses of his palm against bare skin was almost more than he could handle.

He hadn’t expected Arthur to dig his fingers into Kieran’s side, causing him to yelp and jump away. Arthur was grinning, looking far too pleased with himself. Kieran smiled back and splashed half-heartedly at Arthur.

They wrestled in the creek. Arthur easily overpowered Kieran, dunking him under the water a few times and tackling him into the silt. Kieran howled with laughter and clung to Arthur for dear life.

And then Arthur kissed him. Already breathless and panting, he dragged Kieran in and pressed their lips together. It was clumsy and awkward for a few moments as Kieran froze in shock, but he kissed back eagerly once he found himself again.

Arthur pulled away with a contented sigh, shaking water out of his hair and chuckling to himself. “Been wanting to do that, but you’ve been sleeping in the damn mud for three days now.”

Kieran turned pink and then red, clearly overwhelmed. Arthur pulled back a little to give him some space.

“What if-” Kieran started and then lost his courage. It took him a few tries to get through his words. “What if I slept by you instead?”

Arthur wanted nothing more.

#arthur morgan/kieran duffy #kieran duffy x arthur morgan #kieran duffy #kieran duffy/arthur morgan #kierthur #arthur morgan x kieran duffy #arthur morgan #rdr2 fanfic

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wiltingofthewhitelily · 3 years ago

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{Hetalia Platonic Ships Week 2021} Day 7: Free Day - Iceland & Latvia

A/N: Submission #7 for @hetaliaplatonicshipsweek!

Aaaaand the last day! I was originally planning to do Canada and Cuba (a platonic pairing I just adore) for this day until I realized I didn't actually have any solid story ideas for them :')

Sooo I chose Iceland and Latvia instead, because I imagine the two to be pretty good friends. This is just a high school au (bc as many of y'all know I'm a sucker for them) that I came up with one day while sitting in class lol. You can choose to see this as taking place in the same universe as the fic I wrote for family week (the Anko Family submission for Day 5, Embarrassment) if you wish, bc everything lines up pretty much to a T. Also, my demiboy Iceland hc is back, so he/they pronouns again.

Also, here's the reference for human names again (though most of these characters are only briefly mentioned):

Emil - Iceland

Raivis - Latvia

Leon - Hong Kong

Michelle - Seychelles

Mei - Taiwan

Lili - Liechtenstein

Ok, I hope you guys enjoy!

»»————-　➴　————-««

Being a librarian's aide at a high school wasn't nearly as bad as it appeared on the surface—well, at least for Emil it wasn't. It was always nice and quiet (for obvious reasons, since it was a library), and it allowed him to get out of a couple of boring classes which he didn't even need to take since he'd already received all the credits for them. Plus, the librarian herself was always very nice and even gave him free coffee and donuts from the teacher's lounge on most days. So, needless to say, Emil actually liked being her aide very much.

It wasn't even that much work, honestly. Not that much work at all. Usually just stacking returned books back on the bookshelf and taking out papers from the printer and giving them to students and teachers. Emil didn't have to interact with too many other kids as there were only a couple of other aides—a senior girl who was the librarian's secretary, and a boy named Raivis who Emil was pretty sure was a sophomore. Raivis basically did the same tasks as Emil, placing books on the bookshelf and whatnot.

Raivis was a curly-haired brunet who was very short for his age, barely even coming up to Emil's shoulder; he had a round boyish face that added to his middle-schooler look. Though he seemed to be a pretty quiet kid, just like Emil, since the two worked together they evidently had to communicate with each other sometimes—and honestly, Emil really enjoyed talking with him. He seemed to have a lot of the same interests as Emil—video games, indie music, hell, he even liked science fiction novels too—and a similar personality to them. Emil wouldn't exactly consider themselves close enough to Raivis to consider him a friend, probably just a very good acquaintance; however, they definitely saw the potential for friendship. It was there.

Sometimes Emil wondered if Raivis even had any other friends, as they'd never seen the boy really talk to anybody else. They wondered where he sat at lunch and tried to recall countless times if they'd ever seen him at lunch with anybody else (at their school, all juniors and sophomores had the same lunch period, so Emil knew that they had lunch with Raivis).

Anyway, on one Thursday morning Emil and Raivis were in the library, organizing books in the—what do you know—science fiction section. They had set their uneaten donuts and coffee on a nearby table and were just talking and laughing among each other, as well as sharing some of the good books they'd found that they happened to have read in the past. Emil made a mental note of all the reading suggestions Raivis had given him. I'm gonna have to check out those books when Mrs. Newman lets me pick some out again, Emil thought to himself (Mrs. Newman referring to the librarian). Another perk to being a librarian's aide was that they got to pick out more books than the other students, about three to five every other week.

Everything was going okay until these two boys who Emil had never seen in the library before casually walked up to the table that had the two's donuts and coffee and sat in the chairs.

However, Emil just kept their attention on Raivis, who was laughing as he told them about this one dystopian book, holding it up so Emil could see. "Yeah! And the best part is when—" Raivis stopped talking abruptly when he noticed the two boys there; his eyes grew wide and he got a...scared look on his face? Hurriedly, he shoved the book back in its spot on the shelf, averting his eyes from the boys and holding Emil's arm loosely, trying to guide him away from the section they were at. "Um...how about let's go sort out the encyclopedias," Raivis suggested quickly.

Emil cocked his eyebrows, now very confused. "But what about our food?"

However, Raivis didn't respond and instead continued to try to push Emil away from the boys.

"Hey, short stack!"

Raivis visibly cringed at the voice of one of the boys. This prompted him, as well as Emil to lift their heads up. One of the kids was cackling annoyingly, while the other one had carelessly taken a bite out of one of Raivis' donuts.

Seeing this latter action immediately caused Emil to furrow their eyebrows. "Hey, what the heck?" they said sternly. "That's Raivis' food."

The kid who'd eaten Raivis' donut snickered. "Yeah, no shit, Dad."

"Emil, just leave them alone..." Raivis said quietly, still holding onto their arm.

Emil ignored him and, though his heart was pounding nearly out of his chest with nerves, he continued to try to set the two boys straight. "I'm going to tell Mrs. Newman if you two don't stop," he threatened.

The other boy, who'd started to drink Raivis' coffee, set his cup down and made mocking jazz hands. "Ooo—Mrs. Newman. I'm so scared," he said sarcastically.

Emil shot the two one last glare and went up to the front of the library to do what he'd just said he would do—tell Mrs. Newman. As he began to walk, he heard the sounds of pounding footsteps, splashing, and then a high-pitched wail that could only belong to one person. Emil whipped his head around and gasped. The kid with the coffee had dumped the entire beverage onto Raivis' head; it was dripping from his hair, and onto the floor.

Now simmering with anger, Emil stomped up to the two kids—he was about to yell something until he heard one of the boys snort loudly and then run up to place the now-empty cup of coffee into Emil's hand. The ash-blond didn't have time to be too confused; he was much more concerned for Raivis at that moment. He prepared to yell at the two boys to get the hell out (he honestly didn't care at that point that they were in a library) before he heard a voice behind him: "Hey! What are you two doing?"

The teens all looked toward the voice and saw Mrs. Newman standing there, hands on her hips, her expression very angry looking—though not at Emil and Raivis, rather at the boy that'd spilled coffee on Raivis' head, as well as his friend.

The two boys, though they'd just mocked Mrs. Newman a mere few minutes prior, stood there, scared, until they glanced at each other briefly and then dashed out of the large library doors. Emil smirked internally as they saw this. Now they're afraid, huh? they thought to themselves.

Mrs. Newman stared at the boys like a hawk as they ran out into the halls, but once they were out of eyesight she turned to Raivis, her face instantly growing from full of anger to full of concern. She walked up slowly to the boy, gently placing her hand on a part of his arm that'd been untouched by the coffee. "Oh, sweetheart," she said, "I'm so sorry that happened to you."

Raivis shrugged his shoulders slowly, his face looking so solemn, so pitiful. "It's fine..."

The tall blonde woman turned to Emil then. "Honey, will you take him to the office to get a fresh change of clothes?" she asked. "He will probably need to use one of the showers in the gym too...can you walk with him, please?"

Emil nodded instantly. "Yeah. Sure thing."

Mrs. Newman smiled back. "Thank you."

Soon, the two teens were walking off to do just that. Raivis was very quiet all the way to the office—which Emil could understand one hundred percent. Poor kid must've felt so embarrassed. He decided he wouldn't make the situation any worse for him and kept his mouth shut, too. They swiftly went to the office to get some spare clothes and then got the clear to go down to the gym bathroom so Raivis could wash up.

The two got to the gym and were standing in front of the door to the bathroom; Raivis glanced up at Emil, his face a little pink. "Um," he began, holding his hand out a little, "could you give me the clothes?"

"Oh, yeah," Emil replied, handing Raivis the sweatpants and t-shirt.

Raivis nodded his thanks and headed on in. After he shut the door, Emil just decided to sit against the wall and wait for him while he showered and changed.

Nearly thirty minutes later, Raivis finally came back out. Emil looked up, put his phone back in his pocket, and then stood up. "How was it?" he asked the sophomore.

Raivis sighed deeply; his eyes were very close to watering, even though he looked and smelled as fresh as a daisy. "Um...okay I guess," he answered, voice quavering a little. "There was a lot of coffee on me."

Emil nodded, but tsk-tsked. He began to walk out of the gym, and Raivis followed close behind. "Who even were those kids?" Emil asked.

Raivis shrugged, looking down at his toes. "Eh, just some kids from my grade. They're jerks."

Emil bit his lip. "Seems like it. I can't believe they put that coffee cup in my hands like they were trying to frame me or something," he said. He laughed, a bit bitterly.

Despite himself, Raivis managed to chuckle a little. "Yeah. Don't they know Mrs. Newman has cameras in there? She could've checked them if she really wanted to."

Emil snorted. "I know, right?"

It was silent for a moment afterward, with Raivis gulping loudly every now and then. Emil turned their head, noticing this. He cocked an eyebrow, concerned. "Are you okay?"

Raivis (who Emil could tell now was definitely on the verge of crying) sniffled and rubbed at his face. "Yeah," he answered, voice hushed. "It's just...thank you, Emil. No one has ever stood up for me like that."

The boy's voice was so sincere that Emil had to grin. "It's no problem—really."

"You're a great friend," Raivis added.

Emil's heart was warmed at that—they didn't know if it was just the way he said it, or the knowledge that he actually thought of them as a friend. He answered warmly nonetheless. "Thank you. You are too."

Raivis glanced at him and gave the most genuine smile Emil thought he'd ever seen on the younger teen.

"Hey, where do you normally sit at lunch?" Emil asked Raivis, just out of curiosity.

Raivis' smile fell a bit. "Oh...well, I normally just sit outside," he said quietly.

"Alone?" The word seemed to echo in the empty hallway, though it might've just been Emil's imagination.

Raivis nodded a bit solemnly. Emil grew the same solemn expression for a moment before asking, "Hey, would you like to sit with me and my friends at lunch?"

Raivis looked up then, eyebrows shooting up. "Really?"

Emil nodded, cracking a small smile. "Yeah. I sit with my best friend, Leon, and then my other friends, Michelle, Mei, and Lili. Leon's really cool; Michelle and Mei might seem a bit...much at first, but they're really nice and cool too."

Raivis' expression slowly began to brighten the more he heard Emil talk, until he paused. "...Are you sure that's okay? I wouldn't wanna ruin your guys' lunch..."

"Trust me, you won't," Emil assured instantly.

The sophomore paused for a minute, as if thinking. "...Okay. I'll sit with you guys."

Emil grinned. "Good. I'm sure they'd love to meet you."

The two continued to walk back to the office to get passes for their next class in comfortable silence, the content feeling one feels after finding a new friend overwhelming both of them.

#hetalia #hetaliaplatonicshipsweek #hetalia event #hetalia fanfiction #fanfiction #aph iceland #hws iceland #aph latvia #hws latvia

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i-dont-want-your-hysteria · 4 years ago

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When It’s Love- Joe x Reader

(One day in August of 2020 my favorite Van Halen song came on the radio and suddenly I was harassed by this idea so badly I screamed. True story. Anyway, here’s some more extremely reflective internal conflict romantic flash Joe fic. I put a LOT of work into this whole post ((including the first illustration)) so I really hope you like it! I had a lot of fun writing this bc of the imagery and descriptions of everything. You’ll see...)

(illustration(s) by @paper-sxn and myself)

Words: 2,798

Prompt: nah just read it and find out ^-^

-----

August 26th, 1988. Dublin, Ireland

The door on the rooftop of the restaurant opened, and a tall, anxious-looking man in a red suit walked out alone. He ran a hand through his dirty-blonded mullet, and shut the door behind him. Blowing out a breath, he walked up to the bar to order a single brandy. The bartender wouldn't have noticed it, but the casual, quiet tone the man used wasn't normal for him. It wasn't a facade, either; it was nothing but genuine.

He took the drink with much gratitude, slipped the bartender a bill, and told her to keep the change. She thanked him sweetly before turning up the volume on her small radio behind the counter.

The song that played proceeded to strike the man right in the heart.

"Of course," he thought with an exhausted and amused grin, "Perfect timing."

When he turned around with his glass, he was met with a glorious sunset of the late summer. Nothing but warm, soon-to-be-gold light engulfed him. He took notice of how it passed through his glass and the liquid inside of it. He gazed at the liquor for a moment, but he did not drink it.

Meanwhile, the small radio behind the bar was sounding off with a bit of static, "Everybody's looking for something, something to fill in the holes..."

Joe walked in a straight line. His left hand slipped into his pocket to anxiously fidget with whatever contents were inside of his famed red suit.

He'd only dressed up to this current degree just to make sure his outfit would be pleasing to you tonight. It was everything to him; this loudly colored look always held a place in his heart- and in yours. Hell, your relationship had begun partially because of it. The suit itself still held up in its style after all this time. Joe knew it was tacky enough, yet dapper enough for a date. It turned on his gentleman mode, which is what he suspected he needed the most right now.

He was your gentleman, after all. Just the thought of being yours made the edges of his mouth curl upwards into a bashful smile.

The singer, who was on break from tour for a short while, chose to focus this smile at the horizon before him. The slow and leisurely steps he took made him reach the edge of the rooftop where there was a ledge for him to put his drink down.

He smoothed his increasingly trembling hands over the cold cement of this ledge. He tapped all of his fingers against it. He crossed his arms on top of it.

He took a deep breath, and closed his eyes when he let it rush out.

The smile on his lips remained as he did this, pondering on what you were probably doing back downstairs at your table. Dinner had recently ended, so you were probably tapping your fingers as Joe was currently doing, looking around for him, and looking around in your purse.

Joe also pondered on what you could've been thinking about, too. He didn't have any guesses, but he knew without a single doubt in his mind that you were not thinking of the same thing he was.

He was thinking of time, and how he could not waste it.

This Leppard- shrouded in his red cloth- knew he couldn't spend more than a few minutes up here. Yet, he wanted to get one last look around before returning to you.

Picturing his return made him silently chuckle to himself. He had never felt so happy to be thinking of you- never in his whole life.

"We think a lot, but don't talk much about it..."

He picked up the brandy, and took a small sip of it. The sweetness of it spread over his tongue as he immediately associated the flavor with a memory of you. It was tranquilizing almost immediately.

Nerves were a tricky thing to deal with. Luckily, Joe knew there was a less tricky solution for this.

Joe also knew he was currently on the wagon for the duration of this tour. It was for his own good- and the tour's own good- but he needed to make a quick exception for himself. Despite whatever guilt he may have felt while sipping his drink, he knew damn well that it was an essential exception he had to make.

"Til things get out of control..."

The only other occupants of the rooftop lounge- a couple sitting and chatting at a table some yards away- subtly captured Joe's attention. He turned his head to look at them, and again, he smiled to himself. Again, you overwhelmed his mind. Seeing this couple be a match together- a duo, a pair- it only reminded him more of how head over heels he was in his own way.

He also lingered on how much he loved the sight and feeling of being in a duo of his own, too. He could only imagine if you two looked as good as these strangers did from afar.

"Oh! How do I know when it's love? I can't tell you, but it lasts forever..."

Chills suddenly trickled down his spine, and Joe shivered. Something different was in the air.

"Oh! How does it feel when it's love? It's just something you feel together, when it's love..."

He felt his head jerk back towards the sunset, and an intense wave of nostalgia washed over him. The heart within his ruby suit plunged deep into his stomach, but was resurrected instantly.

The soft green eyes of the singer were frozen- fixed on the premature descent of the sun. His clean-shaven jaw fell slightly open at the sensation running through his veins.

"This is it..." Joe whispered.

He now found himself unable to move with goosebumps forming underneath the layers he wore. This was strange to him, since he had been close to overheated for the whole meal with you.

Slowly, he felt his hand go back into his pocket. He closed his fingers around the small shape inside, and he removed it with more caution than if he were handling a grenade.

"You look at every face in a crowd, some shine and some keep you guessing..."

Without looking at it, he rubbed his thumb over the soft covering and placed it inches from his drink.

"Waiting for someone to come into focus..."

With the same carefulness, Joe lowered his eyes to observe the layout before him. Just like that, all minuscule details of what he saw jumped out at him without warning. Every spec of concrete on the ledge was suddenly visible, every single ray of light the glass refracted was defined, every single line of his skin was ingrained into his retinas, and every microscopic hair on the small surface of the object was magnified. It was as if he were now looking at an iconic still life in a museum. If he were to frame this sight right then and there, he was sure it would be priceless.

For as long as he lived, Joe knew he would never forget this exact moment. The temperature, the wind, the colors, and the air; he'd forever be able to instantly recall them. Every detail was priceless.

"Teach you your final love lesson."

Joe took a photograph of the moment with his vision when he felt tears of joy begin to sting behind his eyes.

"No-" Joe said to himself as he frantically clasped his eyes into a squint and pinched the bridge of his nose, "No, not now... c'mon..."

A faint reverberation of your voice rang through his head like a clear, concise ring of a bell, "Yeah, c'mon sweetie. Not now..."

He looked back up at the sunset while blowing out a breath, and took another quick sip of his drink. Even in the most private of reflective moments, his conscience always had a habit of manifesting your reactions. You were always there to him; he couldn't live without you.

"You can't waste any more time up here..." your voice said more clearly, as if you were right next to him, "You know that."

"Can't waste any more time..." Joe said aloud to himself again with a shake of his head. He hastily hid the small item back in his pocket.

"How do I know when it's love? I can't tell you, but it lasts forever..."

Joe knew damn well he couldn't photograph this moment, despite how badly he wanted to. If only he could capture this new level of existence in some way...

He still couldn't see you, but he heard your voice, "Work with what you're given, Joey. Use your head. Use your hands..."

Joe's eyebrows perked up at the spontaneous idea 'you' gave him. Looking around, his eyes soon located a napkin on the table of the nearby couple. He knew he'd have to be quick, lest the real you suspected something of his absence. The imaginary scenario of your suspicion was enough to make him feel the same shiver of anxiety again.

Despite the nerves surrounding him, it was still the best thing he had ever felt.

A small voice of his conscience told him you were able to feel it, too. Perhaps, back down in the restaurant, you, too, were feeling a shiver down your spine.

"Oh! How does it feel when it's love? It's just something you feel together..."

Joe knew this internal voice; it was an emotion. He knew by pure intuition that everything it said was true. As it got closer to him, he felt his heart speed up. He knew the moment was getting even closer.

Your imaginary voice was back in his ears, "Don't worry, honey. I can feel it, too."

"Sweet Y/n," he whispered aloud as he shut his eyes against the setting sun, "Darling Y/n, don't you realize what's about to happen?"

No sound of you came closer. Instead, he felt your hand caress his face. When he opened his eyes, a vision of you was finally standing there with him.

You told him one word.

"Yes."

You vanished from Joe's conscience instantly with that syllable. It gave him enough confidence to set himself into motion.

Going through with his plan, the fidgety Leppard strode over to the sitting couple, asking if he could snag their spare napkin. They granted him permission, leading Joe to head back over to the bar counter.

After obtaining a pen from the bartender, he began to write.

He didn't write much, but he wrote what he felt he needed to. The vivid, mindful memory of the rooftop ledge was stored into every letter he scribbled down. If he couldn't take a picture of the feeling, he knew he'd have the next best thing.

The pen lifted from the napkin, and Joe fought to control his smile.

He took his napkin and drink back to the ledge after returning the pen. Holding up what he had written in front of him, he engraved the new sight of it into his memory instead.

"August 26th, 1988:" the cloth read, "Our lives are about to change forever."

He was immensely satisfied with it; the last object to be created in what would soon be his 'old' life.

"Oh, when it's love... you can feel it, yeah!"

Joe repeated his own written word, and the word the mirage of you had told him, "Forever... yes."

Lowering the napkin, Joe was face to face with the horizon. It was constantly changing color, but each transition was more and more radiant. The evening was perfect; nothing could've gone more correctly for him.

Well, maybe one more thing could still go correctly for him.

"Nothing's missing, yeah!"

A simple yet powerful guitar solo reached the far edge of the roof where he stood. It was rather funny to him. It reflected his plan a little too well; simple, yet powerful.

You both had always ended your meals at this restaurant by going up to the roof for a drink. No other place on earth screamed of you and Joe more than that rooftop did. Your dinner was over, so it was almost time to head up. It was routine, and it was unquestionable. It was simple; it was powerful.

There was a sudden burning in Joe's pocket- a burning sense of raw and extraordinary power. Joe quickly reached his hand back inside to pull out the object he'd placed on the ledge before.

“Yeah, you can feel it! Oh, when it’s love...”

He held it in front of him and fixed his eyes over its whole surface area. He found it hard to believe he was given control of such heavenly power, all delicately concealed within the case in his hand. It was the sword in the stone, but only you could wield it.

And that moment when you wielded it had to be perfect.

"Can't waste any more time," Joe gasped. His fingers clasped over the piece in his hand, he closed his eyes in reverence, and slowly touched it to his lips.

"When nothing's missing!"

Joe privately declared with his lips against the small, soft surface, "Nothing's missing."

"How do I know when it's love? I can't tell you, but it lasts forever..."

Joe re-filled his pockets without looking at any of the contents. The napkin and the soft-covered object both disappeared into the scarlet suit, and the remainder of his brandy disappeared into his mouth. Before he took the finishing sip, however, he raised his glass to the sunset in a private toast accompanied with a wink. Only one word was needed to make such a toast.

"Forever."

"Ooh, how does it feel when it's love? It's just something you feel together, hey!”

The glass was returned, and all things were finally in place.

“How do I know when it’s love? I can’t tell you, but it lasts forever- when it’s love...”

Just as Joe turned in the direction of the door he came from, he stopped dead and reached back into his pocket. There was one last thing he didn't take a final look at; one very small thing.

"Hey! It lasts forever...! When it's love..."

He pulled out the deep-colored item yet again. Only this time, instead of admiring its surface, he opened it.

The glorious star within was now admiring him.

"You and I, we're gonna feel the same together- when it's love..."

Each twinkle and every finest detail of it was, in every way, flawless. It matched the very twinkle in your eye Joe knew you'd bear once you finally witnessed it yourself.

"Ooh when it's love, baby..."

Joe believed it bittersweet that this would be his very last chance to gaze upon the raw, divine power before he decided to activate it.

"You can feel it, yeah!"

The second Joe would conceal the item again, he knew he would not be allowed to look at it anymore. There was a destiny for this particular object. It beheld a future so great, so magnificent, that Joe himself would not be able to look directly at it when the moment came. He wasn't chosen for an honor such as that.

The only person who was destined to see this divine piece in action... was you.

It was you, and only you; forever. And the greatest part- you did not suspect a single thing.

Sucking back the happy and nervous tears he felt coming on, Joe closed the small box and put it back into his pocket. His hand remained on top of it as he turned away from the sunset to go back downstairs. His fingers continued to rub over its surface, and he could feel the radiant force within it. It had the ability to permanently change your lives, and that's the exact power he was about to bestow upon you.

As he opened the door to head back down to you, his nerves threatened to make him freeze again. His heart vibrated in his chest as the magic of the item within the box engulfed him.

"We'll make it last forever!"

Joe's hand squeezed the edge of the door as he just barely glimpsed the now-radiant sunset. He was aware that the time had come.

It was, at long last, about to happen. Your lives were about to change forever. It was becoming real; it was becoming perfect.

Finally, after so long, Joe could say with complete confidence that he knew the name of the strongest feeling that had ever engrossed him.

Oddly enough, that feeling also shared your name.

"Ooh, it's love."

Joe squeezed the tiny, sublime box in his pocket. He whispered to himself just before he shut away the glory of the impending dusk:

"With this ring... I thee wed."

The end

(When It’s Love by Van Halen)

#*cue terra screaming bc i wrote a leppard fic written around a van halen song*#oh my G O D am i happy that this finally got posted #this has been the thorn in my side since august #i envisioned this so vividly that i blew a goddamn fuse at poor andy while she was trying to color the sky correctly #but i was so picky about how i envisioned this scene that i decided to say fuck it and i did the sky myselg #*myself #the bottom photo is the very first version that andy sent me #and i thought it suited the story as an epilogue better so I still included it :3 #def leppard #def leppard fanfic #def leppard fanfiction #joe elliott x reader #def leppard x reader #van halen #original content #joe elliott fanfic #joe elliott fanfiction #i SWEAR TO YOU the next fanfic post will be a rick fic #i know no one's complaining about the saturation of joe fics over the past *checks watch* ever #but i gotta break it up so there's variety to keep people interested in reading EVERYTHING i have to offer

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jettingtothemoon · 4 years ago

Text

Shiggy

➳ pairing: shigaraki tomura x f!reader ➳ genre: angst, fluff ➳ warnings: mentions of death, swearing ➳ word count: 4119 ➳ rating: pg-15 ➳ summary: In which y/n joins the league of villains and discovers a soft side to her new boss. ➳ a/n: this is my first official oneshot that i wrote just for shiggy bc i just love him so much (*^.^*)

y/n never wanted to be a villain. She wanted to be a hero, one proud to help others no matter the reward. Well, that was until that one fateful day.

It was just like any other day but after that day, nothing would ever be the same again. y/n was at school when it happened; when the attack began. She should have been there because, just maybe with her quirk, she could have saved them. It was a villain never seen before, one so terrible that he killed or at least severely wounded every hero he came across in a matter of minutes. That was until Endeavour came along. By the time the great pro hero Endeavour arrived, the fight had made it's way to your street. As the fight continued, the families were evacuated out of their homes by other heroes and sidekicks, knowing that the damage to the street was going to be major in this colossal fight.

You could feel the rumbles and vibrations under your feet even as you sat at your desk only a few blocks away. It's probably just some construction work nearby, the teachers said. If only.

Your parents and little sister were still inside when it happened, not yet to be evacuated when the blast went off. Even Endeavour himself was having a tough time fighting this villain and, despite seeing that the villain was not going after any civilians, he let out a huge blast of fire. It engulfed half of the street in seconds, scorching the villain into submission. Everyone that end was supposed to have been evacuated, but they weren't, your family were still inside. Still hiding from the battle outside. They just wanted to live, to survive this terrifying fight. They weren't so lucky.

That was the day you lost all faith in heroes. Their job was to protect and rescue civilians but they couldn't even get that right. Why? Because they would earn more if they took down the villain. He couldn't have held him off until he was certain everyone was safe and outside of the blast radius. The worst part about it, not a single hero was harmed in the blast. They all saw it coming and, instead of rushing in to get your family out in time, they turned tail and fled before the blast could hit them.

Endeavour was reckless but those other heroes... they were cowards. They gave their lives a higher importance than that of your family. Your caring mother, your loving father, your baby sister. They were left to burn, to scorch in the hellflame as the so-called heroes ran away, leaving them behind.

You were left all alone. Your friends pitied you, tried to comfort you but their love for the very heroes that left your family to die remained. It was despicable, the way they loved them sickened you. They were your friends no more, not if they couldn't see what heroes really were. They were greedy, selfish, liars who all deserved to die in the place of your family.

Of course, you didn't act on those emotions at first. In fact, you simply lived your life quietly. You remained alone, you discarded the friends that didn't understand your hatred of heroes. You lived your life as any other citizen, keeping your head down and letting the heroes do what they wanted.

Well, that was until Stain emerged. The hero killer, he empowered you. He shared similar views to you but he still seemed to believe that there was such a thing as a good hero, for example, All Might. From what you had seen on the news and other videos that were circulating the web not long after his capture in Hosu, he believed that All Might was a true hero. You, however, once even believed Endeavour was a true hero. If the number two hero was a scumbag then you had no doubt that so was the number one. All Might, like Endeavour, was likely to have let the fame and power go to his head. That was why, despite agreeing with Stain's ideology, you still had no faith in there being any good heroes anymore. Maybe the future generations would prove you wrong, but you doubted it. The future generation of heroes were being trained by those very scumbags after all.

After the incident in Hosu, you turned to a different kind of lifestyle. You still lived your ordinary everyday life, sure, but you started going after those so-called heroes you detested so much. With your quirk, it wasn't too difficult to take down some sidekicks. Not that you actually killed any of them, no, you simply did enough damage to put them in the hospital for a long time.

Heroes sucked. That was just the stone-cold truth, even though you sometimes hated to admit it. Those whom you had looked up to your entire life were nothing but a bunch of phonies playing pretend. All they wanted was the money, fame and power. Not a single one of them truly wanted to save people, to protect the citizens that need it.

After a while, it wasn't only the heroes you detested but also all those people with quirks that didn't use them, despite knowing that their quirk could help save so many. Without a licence, using your quirk in public is prohibited but that wouldn't stop a true hero. A true hero would do whatever they could to help, not just stand by taking pictures. You hated that some people, those people whom sided with Stain, might take one look at you and lump you in with the rest.

Before long, whatever feelings you had for saving people was gone. You didn't want to be a hero anymore, you didn't want to save the people who didn't even deserve saving. The ones who deserved to be saved were those who really couldn't help in any of those situations. The people with quirks that were practically useless in combat or would be too dangerous to use against other people. But most of all, the quirkless. There were not many quirkless people anymore but your mother was one of them. She lived without a quirk and she died without a quirk, maybe even because she didn't have a quirk. Your father wasn't to blame either, in that situation, his quirk wouldn't have been much help and your sister was so young that hers hadn't even surfaced before she died. Your's, however, could have helped. You could have safely evacuated your family on your own before the blast went off. You could have saved them, but you weren't there.

Not too long after you began going after sidekicks, stirring up quite a fuss in the news, you were approached by a rather interesting man.

"So you're the one they're calling Streak?" His voice was bland matching his face which was void of any emotion.

You turned back to the sidekick that was lying behind you with several glowing, neon scorches over his arms and legs, then back to the man before you, "I suppose I am."

Although you were ready to break out into a fight at any moment, this was a man you didn't recognise. He wasn't a hero or sidekick, that was for sure. Neither was he any ordinary civilian. A villain then?

"We have a proposal for you." A small girl also turned into the alley, smiling at you brightly yet somewhat wickedly.

Although you doubted the two of them and kept your guard up the whole way, you followed them back to what seemed to be their base of operations.

"A bar?" You questioned, following them inside in hopes of finding out what exactly they wanted.

Neither of them answered you and so, you simply continued to follow them down the steps until you were in the room at the bottom. There was another man sitting at the bar and one behind it. The man behind the bar looked interesting and all but it was the one sitting there, with a disembodied hand over his face, swirling a glass in his hand with his pinky raised, whom you found truly intriguing.

"You brought her?" The man behind the bar spoke.

He kind of looked like a walking shadow with bright yellow eyes. You recognised him somewhat, although you were unsure of where from. The same went for the man sitting at the bar, who was still yet to turn around and face you.

"Of course we did. If the boss says to go find the girl, we go find the girl." The younger girl declared although it was funny she was referring to you as the girl when she was so clearly younger than you.

"See, they listen to me." The man at the bar finally spoke with his somewhat mellow voice and put his glass down.

You simply tilted your head to the side as he turned to you, trying to take in his appearance but, thanks to the hand covering his face, you ended up just staring into his scarlet eyes.

Those very eyes narrowed at you and he sighed, "Are you sure you got the right one? She doesn't look much like a villain to me."

"You don't look all that much like a villain either, Shigaraki Tomura." You finally realised who you were speaking to, recognising him from the news as the leader of the league of villains, and to be honest, you were flattered that they had reached out to you.

"Tsk. You haven't seen what I look like without father yet."

You were unsure what he meant by father but decided not to ask. Not that you had much time to because he was already speaking again, although he turned back to his drink first and began swirling it again.

"So, what do you think about joining the league of villains?"

"I didn't think you would be that straight up." You giggled slightly.

Shigaraki, however, only began to lose his patience and began scratching his neck, "Do you want to help us destroy the heroes or not?"

"Oh, I'm in, but why did you single me out specifically?" You asked.

Shigaraki sighed but didn't speak any more than that, and so, the man behind the bar answered you, "We've been watching you for a while. Your agenda seems to match with ours and there is no doubting your usefulness in a fight. We believe you will be a valuable asset."

"I believe I will." You grinned.

"What exactly is your quirk anyway?" The man behind you asked.

You turned to him, trying once again to avoid staring at the unusual burn scars that covered his body, "Well, my quirk is neon. I can emit a neon light from both the palms of my hands and the tips of my fingers. The light is kind of like a laser, it burns through pretty much anything it touches. I can also use the neon energy within me to charge my body and the use a burst of that energy to move from one place to another in the blink of an eye. Although, using my quirk too much can take a lot of energy so I can only do that a couple of times before I'm completely worn out. As for the beams I shoot from my hands, they don't use as much energy so as long as I've eaten a good breakfast I'm good to go for hours."

Shigaraki turned his head to you, seemingly finding some interest in hearing about your quirk before focusing his attention back on swirling his drink again.

And that was how you joined the league of villains. After officially becoming a member, you learnt that the man behind the bar was called Kurogiri. He was quite possibly the most normal of the villains. Although, none of them were really all that normal at all.

Dabi, or as you liked to call him 'fireman', was almost quiet. He didn't act as though he cared for, well, anything. Although, he certainly enjoyed fighting heroes. Pretty much all of the time he showed little to no emotion, but somehow the two of you had gotten along quite well since you joined the league.

Toga was quite possibly insane, but that only gave her personality. She was fun to be around and you enjoyed hanging out with another girl around your age, although she was a few years younger than you. The nickname you had given her was 'loopy' and surprisingly she didn't mind it nor find offence in it. Maybe it was because she was starting to like you, or maybe simply because Kurogiri told her to play nice.

Shigaraki had his own nickname too, of course, although he didn't like it. He would have much rather you call him boss or just his name but instead you were persistent in calling him by 'Shiggy'. You called him that not only because of his name but also his shaggy hair, it was kind of a combination of the two. That shaggy hair was something you had grown used to seeing, you even went as far as to ruffling it this one time but, obviously, he didn't much appreciate it and threatened to turn you to dust with four of his fingers wrapped around your wrist.

Actually, Kurogiri was the only one who didn't have a bizarre nickname. The most he got was a casual 'Kuro', which he seemed to prefer anyway.

Getting along with everyone was much easier than you expected it to be. Well, except for when it came to Shigaraki. Your boss was... difficult, to say the least. And, although he didn't seem to mind you, his cold exterior kept pushing you away when you tried to talk to him about something other than work or attempted to know him better.

It was over a week before he removed his mask, which you now knew was called father, in front of you. His face was different from how you had expected it to be. His face was... well, it was crusty. Especially around his eyes and mouth. His lips were split and chapped with a scar crossing over the left side of them. Another scar could be seen over his right eye. Despite all of that, he was surprisingly cute. He was younger than you initially thought, probably only around your age. You found your eyes scanning over him from the little beauty mark that dotted the underside of his mouth, up to the dry skin around his narrowing eyes.

"What?" He somewhat snapped.

"Nothing. Just- Taking in your face before it hides behind that mask again."

Shigaraki scrunched up his brows but decided to ignore your gaze to focus on what he was doing. You had come to know that your boss was quite the gamer and, although he usually played in his room where the rest of you couldn't disturb him, sometimes, when Dabi and Toga were out, he would bring his switch with him and come to sit at the bar. Both you and Kurogiri knew not to distract him. Although, it wasn't so that you wouldn't anger him but simply because you also had a love for games and knew what it was like when someone interrupted your train of thought and cost you your win. So, you kept quiet or went for a walk.

Although, soon you grew to enjoy watching Shigaraki as he played his games and so, you simply sat at the bar a few stalls away to watch him. You liked watching the way his lips would curl into a little smirk every now and then when he knew he was going to win. You also liked it when he lost and scowled at the game, cursing under his breath before unconsciously pouting slightly. Once, he even accidentally destroyed the switch with his quirk mid-game. He was furious and stormed out to get another. You simply chuckled when the door closed behind him and got up to clean the mess. Then, you too headed out because there was something you needed to buy.

"Shiggy." You grinned, approaching your boss with a slight skip in your step.

"What?" He sighed, already used to the shitty nickname you had given him.

"I made you something."

He simply turned his head to you and frowned but, when you held out your present for him, his expression changed into something you hadn't yet seen. Surprise? Shock? Gratefulness? Who knows but it was better than the usual sulky face he showed you.

"It's a pair of gloves. They will only cover your pinkies but it will stop you from disintegrating anything else on accident." You explained, passing him the little gloves you had designed specifically for him.

"I- um, thank you?" He sounded so unsure of his words as if he hadn't a clue how to express gratitude but it made you smile nonetheless.

"You're welcome." You spoke with your usual perky voice.

Before joining the league, you had little reason to smile but now that they had finally grown used to you, you were smiling more often than not. You smiled when you talked to Dabi, Toga and Kurogiri, but it was when you were with Shigaraki that you found yourself smiling the most. He was so strange and so cold but there were times when he unintentionally showed you a soft side of him. Times when he was playing his games and even times when he was talking to you. His eyes would soften or he'd almost smile. It was always a small gesture but it still made you feel all warm and happy.

Even now, as he took the gloves from you, being very careful not to use all of his fingers as he did so, his eyes were soft and his lips curled up ever so slightly.

"I hope the material is okay, I tried to make sure they would be as comfortable as possible."

"Why do all of this? Why go to all the trouble?" He asked whilst slipping the gloves over his pinky fingers and around his wrists.

"Because, boss, we can't have you accidentally disintegrating the whole building now can we?" You joked although it didn't seem that Shigaraki found it all that funny as he just huffed, picked up his new switch, and headed back to his room.

"Don't take it to heart, he doesn't do well with displays of affection." Kurogiri sighed, trying to reassure you that Shigaraki was indeed happy with what you had done for him.

But you already knew that he was. You were good at reading people, even people like him, and you would have known if he was angry with you. You just wondered why he was like this and why he struggled so much to believe that any of you truly cared for him. The league, to him, was just a group of people with the same goal but to the rest fo you, it was almost like a family. Maybe one day he would realise that too.

It had been a long day, in which you, Dabi and Toga had all been out getting into your own little handfuls of trouble. Kurogiri stayed here with Shigaraki while he played his games. When you came back, you decided to find Shiggy and update him on the work the three of you had been doing for the most part of the day. When he wasn't sitting at the bar waiting for you to come back, you sighed and headed in the direction of his room. You hadn't been in there before and you were unsure of how Shigaraki would react if you came in without asking but, you also knew it was highly likely he was playing his games and decided that having him yell at you for coming in was better than having him yell at you for disrupting his game. And so, you turned the handle and walked inside.

Shigaraki was indeed playing video games. There he sat, with his back to you, on the floor in front of his tv with a controller in his hand. Despite wearing the gloves you gave him, he was still playing with each of his pinkies lifted off of the remote, presumably so that he didn't get into the habit of using all his fingers in case he one day forgot while not wearing the gloves. His head turned ever so slightly towards you for a second, although his eyes never once left the screen, but he just ignored you and continued playing.

He was clearly busy with his game so you simply walked further into the room, closing the door behind you, and sat at the end of his bed. You took a quick glance around the room, noticing how it was pretty much bare except for the bed and gaming set up in the corner.

It was a few minutes until Shigaraki said anything, but soon he was wondering why you were even here, "y/n. What do you what? Why are you here?"

"I just want to watch you play for now." You admitted, expecting him to tell you to leave.

But he didn't tell you to go. He just grunted and continued playing his game, so you stayed.

The more you watched him play, the more he fascinated you. His strategy in-game mirrored his intellect in reality too. His fingers tapped away so quickly at the buttons as he hammered in combo after combo, striking the enemy's weak points as if he memorised each and every one of them. Then again you wouldn't expect anything more from him. Shigaraki was a surprisingly intelligent man. He knew what to do and when to do it and, even if his temper would tempt him against it, he always knew when to back out of a fight he couldn't win. When it came to both reality and videogames, however, that was rare. He thought things out well and it seemed he even learned things from the games he played and applied them to real-life situations to provide him with the upper hand.

Shigaraki Tomura really was one of a kind.

A few more minutes passed and you found yourself pulling out your phone and swiping to the camera. You snapped some pictures of him playing down on the floor in front of you. Then, you rolled onto your side so that you were lying on his bed, hanging off the side a little to get the perfect angle of his face as he played. You snapped more photos before sitting up and looking through them. He looked so cute when he played his games.

Before you realised, however, he had completed his level and was climbing up to walk over to you. He took the phone from your hands and pressed all of his fingers against it, watching it disintegrate into dust before slipping his pinky back into his glove.

You tilted your head up at him and pouted, "Those were some good pictures."

"Why were you taking pictures of me?" Shigaraki sighed, clearly not really in the mood for your shit.

"Because you just look so cute when you're focusing on your games and I wanted some pictures of you." You admitted, not caring for the way his eyes narrowed further.

"But why?"

You sighed and climbed up onto your knees so you were more at face level with him.

"I want pictures of you because I like you, stupid." You confessed, flicking him lightly in the centre of his forehead.

Shigaraki only began to scratch at his neck as his eyes widened slightly in confusion.

"You... like... me?" He questioned, pointing a finger into his chest.

He clearly still didn't get it, or at least he didn't believe you, so you reached out for his shirt, scrunching it in your fists slightly, as you pulled him in for a kiss. He was in such a shock when your lips touched his that he lost his balance and fell onto you. His hands, that were either side of your head, stopped his weight from crashing down into you but he was still lying on top of you nonetheless.

"Do you get it now?" You smiled, reaching up to peck his nose as his cheeks began to dust over with a slight blush.

"I- I."

You smiled and pulled him back down towards you, stopping briefly just before your lips came together again, "Shut up, Shiggy."

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x y/n #shigaraki x you #boku no hero academia shigaraki #shigaraki fluff #bnha fanfiction #bnha x reader #bnha #shigaraki tomura #my hero academia #angst #fluff

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summonerscenarios · 4 years ago

Note

[1] OKAY anon talking about Mc running off before they find out they're innocent. Okay Mc just wanted to cool down so they skip class and leave campus for the day for self care. BUT THEN they get caught up in app conflict bs like they do when game events happen bc its mc. Maybe helping out the outlaws or somethin- Mc sends the summoner group chat the fyi, that they'll be back. But three days later and the teachers are fucking panicking bc of the situation and they don't know shit AND now the-

OKAY ONCE AGAIN I’M GOING A LIL OFF ON THIS BECAUSE THIS IDEA IS JUST 👌👌👌👌👌 so as you can probably tell in some parts I definitely rambled lmao. I do hope I do it justice~!

And for anyone wondering the original request can be found here!

---------------------

Things had gotten too much. You were so fed up with all the stares, all the sympathetic glances burning holes into the back of your head and all of the whispered words of gossip and speculation like you were some hot topic or reckless wild child who couldn’t be trusted. Everyone was acting like you couldn’t see or hear them, which somehow just made it feel even worse; it was driving you up the wall, even with all of your friends standing by your side the moment you were accused it was hard to ignore everything that came with it. You were pissed, hurt, but the betrayal stung the worst out of everything that had happened so far - you’d put your complete trust in your teachers, looking up to them oh so confident that they’d believe and protect you should the need ever arise, because you genuinely believed that they saw the best in you, even in spite of your faults and encounter track record. You guess that just wasn’t the case though, as that encounter in the staff room still makes you feel sick to your stomach, thinking about the way those same teachers you trusted looked at you with pity and still deemed you guilty of something you so viciously denied.

They still look at you with pity - Mr. Triton and Mr. Jinn don’t even try to hide it, maybe not even realizing that you’re looking at their expressions when they’d tried to start up a conversation with you. It frustrates you, because it feels like they have no right to pity you when they were the ones there in that meeting and they didn’t try to vouch for you. They didn’t even listen when you told them you were innocent! Surely they have enough faith in you to believe in you, right?!...right? Whatever the case the whole situation has you dreading coming into school everyday, and as the days pass you’re more and more convinced that things would be better if you could just get out of going at all - there’s plenty of other things you could be doing where you wouldn’t have eyes watching your every move, nor the weight that comes with them.

You don’t know if it’s luck or sheer irony that the teacher responsible for picking you up from class is late one day, but it’s the final nail in the coffin before you decide ‘fuck it, I’m out of here’ and skip class. For the past few days you’d felt pinned, suffocated with eyes constantly on you from the moment you step onto school grounds to the moment you’re out of sight, which makes it oddly freeing to be able to run around without those disapproving gazes - but you don’t want to waste time and risk getting caught, not when you’re so close to skipping and being free for at least a single day. Consequences be damned, you don’t care anymore. Even though everything is still weighing heavy on your mind stepping out of the grounds feels...liberating, and you only dare a glance back once you’re out of the school gates, catching sight of students still in their classroom completely oblivious that you’ve disappeared from their ranks. Telling the teachers where you were going was the last thing on your mind, but you at least have the foresight to send a message to the Summoner’s group chat before you turn off your phone and bolt from the premises, letting them know that you were going out for a day to clear your head.

It was only supposed to be that one day, you swear, but things have never really had a penchant for going your way. If you had stayed just a few hours longer you’d have learned about the person clearing your name; you’d have seen the teachers’ mad dash through the school when they’d realized you weren’t in any of your classes; you’d have watched the outroar as the Summoner’s learned of the truth in your stead. But you’d missed it all, and spent the day wandering anywhere and everywhere instead - wherever you could go where you wouldn’t risk running into any faculty you went, stewing in thoughts and trying to forget just about everything that had happened for as long as you could before you were inevitably brought back to the school.

Only that didn’t happen; you were able to crash at a friend’s house on the first night, called in a favor with a nearby guild for a place to sleep on the second night, and the hours in between were spent either wandering or getting dragged into fights - how ironic that even now you couldn’t avoid getting involved in other people’s problems even if you tried - it was seriously getting old. In the meantime, the Summoners are the only ones who get word about what’s happening, but even then you keep it vague so that you don’t worry them, not to mention you don’t want them to needlessly lie if they get questioned by the teachers concerning your whereabouts. Which is exactly what happens; the teachers are all worrying themselves sick by the time the third day rolls around without hide or hair of you, and it’s clear that there’s regrets voer what had transpired over the whole week. Jinn’s rolling your last encounter over and over in his head, wondering if there was something that he could have said that would have made you decide to stay put - maybe letting you know you had someone on your side - but the what-ifs won’t change the fact that you left. Triton’s still cursing how long it took for the news of your innocence to come to life, the thought of how you must have felt being looked at with such suspicion making guilt crawl up his spine and settle in his mind. And Mononobe doesn’t stop looking for you for a second - even if you scream at him or scold him or ignore him completely he needs to see that you’re okay and doesn’t want your last conversation with him being left on such bad terms. One thing is for certain though; they need to find you, and soon.

Things finally come to a head on the third day. Usually during after school hours you’d try to make yourself scarce in the area, but this time you weren’t so lucky. All too quickly you’re dragged into a spat with someone itching to boost their ego with an app battle, and though it was clear they’re all bark and no bite it’s tedious and you want it over with quickly. You just wish it was that simple, as the moment you ready your sacred artifact, watching your opponents prep to set up a battle zone, two figures block your view, standing almost protectively in front of you as they activate their respective sacred artifacts. You don’t even have to see them to recognize them - Mr. Triton and Mr. Jinn are both loud as they declare their presence, stepping into the fight in your stead. Before this week you would have laughed seeing the two of them standing side by side talking big about protecting you; but now? You feel your heart sink into your stomach - this could not have been the worse time to see them.

Mercifully, the battle staves off the inevitable conversation for a little while longer, as the three of you have to focus back on the fight at hand; your teachers are skilled, or at least driven by something to end the battle, and you aren’t willing to play around just to avoid what comes next, so it isn’t long before the person who challenged you and his friends to all back off, releasing the battle zone as they flee back into the crowds to nurse their mental wounds. You almost want to disappear into those crowds with them before you can get caught again, however the moment you turn you’re immediately accosted by Jinn and Triton, the two teachers fighting over each other to get the most concerned word in - where have you been? Why did you run away? Are you hurt?! Their concern is sincere, you can tell as much from their faces since hiding their emotions isn’t exactly their strong suit. And right over their shoulders you can see Mr. Mononobe too as he approaches to join the three of you, having not been involved in the battle zone for obvious reasons; but the sight of all three of them in the same place reminds you so much of that day you’d been accused and the emotions burn in your throat like poison.

There’s venom laced in your tone as you ask them why they stepped in, effectively silencing the two teachers as they share a brief glance and answer simultaneously. Hearing them talk about teachers protecting their students you have to bite your tongue because surely they know how hypocritical that sounds, right? But they keep talking, rambling on about making sure you’re safe and protecting you when you need it and it’s like a trigger, sending everything frothing to the surface. You laugh, bitter and sarcastic before asking if they’re serious - they've gotta be kidding - but you don’t even give them a chance to respond before your words claw their way out into the open and you just about lose it.

You don’t care about mincing your words as you practically bare your soul, everything that’s been welling up finally boiling over. You yell and scream and shout until your voice is hoarse because you’re so pissed that they have the audacity to talk about protecting you when they couldn’t even protect you from those accusations, from all those people thinking you destroyed something just because you could. They have no fucking right to even consider themselves your protectors when they looked at you with those same eyes full of pity, now turned to guilt in light of the truth that had come far too late, and you’re gonna make damn well that they know that you aren’t someone to be pitied - you’re vindicated, seething, and feeling so betrayed by the few adults that you were so sure that you could trust. But that trust was shattered - and that’s exactly why you left, because why would you want to be surrounded by people who couldn’t trust you?!

The emotion behind your voice is raw, and Jinn, Triton and even Mononobe seem to be at a loss for words - no words of reassurance, no advice, no words of wisdom - and that just twisted the knife in deeper when you’re met with no resistance whatsoever. You honestly don’t know what you expected - some kind of fight or rebuttal would justify these feelings that you have - but when you receive nothing of the sort in response you lose the wind in your sails and you choke on your shouts. Your words fail you, turning into sputtering and sharp gasps when you finally buckle and sink to your knees, wiping uselessly at your face as your eyes burn with the sting of tears - a feeling you’ve gotten so familiar with this past week it makes you loathe the feeling. If you could you’d still be yelling, but you just can’t bring yourself to do it - you’re tired, whittled down to your bare bones and you don’t even have the energy to be angry or care that you’re having what you’re pretty sure is a breakdown that wasn’t in the safety of your dorm room. You want to just curl up and disappear - just for a few days, that would be okay, right? Just until you can feel something in your chest that didn’t hurt like hell. The Summoners would understand, you think, they always did - they’d trusted you at least, when it felt like most didn’t. Why could they have been the ones to swoop in and help you? It’s a silly thought, but you feel like you at least wouldn’t be bawling like you are now if it had been them instead of the teachers; you can just imagine how they must be watching you cry in front of them.

Damn, this whole thing really was just a mess....

A hand touches your arm and another touches your back - you’d kick away if you could, but it’s like the touch saps you of all of your energy. Those hands have no right to be so warm, no right to feel so comforting, and yet they are and you want to cry all over again. You have no idea which teacher is the one who helps you to your feet as all three surround you with growing concern once your sobs filter off into broken sniffles, gaze torn between screwing shut to avoid looking at any of their faces and staring right at them so they can see all the emotions in your eyes that your words have failed to convey. When they talk about bringing you somewhere safe, back to the dorms or to the school to discuss everything that had happened, you’re in the right mind to run away all over again, but you can’t bring yourself to do it. Instead, you allow those hands on your back and shoulder and arm to guide your steps, ignoring the concern and grave expressions that the teachers share as the reality of what’s just transpired sets in. You don’t know what’s coming next, but you honestly don’t think you care anymore - all you can think about is how tired you are of everything, and this was apparently the last straw that you could handle.

#mechanicaltrickster #housamo #housamo imagine #housamo headcanon #headcanons #imagines #tokyo afterschool summoners #mr triton #triton #housamo triton #mr jinn #jinn #housamo jinn #mr mononobe #kyouma mononobe #kyoma mononobe #housamo mononobe #request #ask

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