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kangaracha · 7 months ago

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head above water | chapter 1

also written by @keepswingin

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pairing chan x reader, jeongin x reader

genre love triangle, coming of age, angst, sickfic, friends with benefits, college au

summary Homework, a small business, overbearing parents, a boyfriend that isn't a boyfriend. And then there's whatever is going on with her best friend, who seems to want something...more than a friendship, if he ever gets around to asking her about it- life is complicated, and far too busy for Y/N to be bothered with being stressed, or sick, or whatever it is that's making it hard to eat and sleep and focus on her work-

status ongoing

taglist OPEN

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You're slumped across Chan's lap when Minho finally comes through the door, one arm full of groceries, the other holding his duffel bag from dance practice. He's not at all surprised to see you as he kicks the door shut with a foot, though he does roll his eyes and make a big show of tossing off his shoes before sauntering over to the kitchen and slinging his bags on the closest empty counter.

"Of course all of you heathens are here," he grouses as he starts pulling things out of one of the shopping bags and stacking the various items beside it. "Do any of you ever leave the house?"

"Depends on the weather," Changbin chimes from beside you, flipping lazily through television channels.

"The weather's fine," Minho mutters, making a face as he shoves things over to make more room for what he's currently unloading. You watch in amusement as the current victim seems to be Chan's laptop and discarded charger. "My wallet isn't, on the other hand." He catches your eye as he turns, tugging the fridge open. "What are you doing here?" he asks, as if you're not welcome, even though you've slept over more often than you should and the key to his apartment sits on your keychain like an unattainable trophy.

A trophy you deserved, anyway - you're more than sure your key is Changbin's replacement key. He had lost it sometime ago, and Minho hadn't bothered to make him a new one. You watch as Minho tosses something from the open fridge with Changbin's writing on the top of it.

"Sorry," you say, the word clumsily as it tumbles from your mouth. You're not usually like this, but you feel embarrassed for some reason, being so close to Chan, leaning on him like he's nothing more than a pillow. Minho wouldn't judge, not ever, but there is something in his gaze that makes you doubt, your stomach twisting. "I wasn't feeling good after class, and my apartment is farther than yours."

Minho hums at your answer, seemingly satisfied. The tightness in your chest doesn't loosen.

You wish it would, after a day like today.

Instead, you exhale, and move to sit up, stretching your arms above your head. You tilt your head to either side to crack your neck, and feel Chan shift in return, cold fingers attempting to slip around your wrist. You pull away before he can keep you there, and avoid the glance of concern he gives you as you stand up.

His care is too much, sometimes. He keeps you grounded in ways you've never been able to understand and yet sometimes you worry that he'll look at you too closely and unravel every secret you've never told. It's easy to nearly fall asleep pressed against him. It's always been hard to escape his gaze.

You make your way over to the kitchen just as Minho throws something else away. You barely catch the hastily scribbled label on that one, but you're pretty sure it was Chan's handwriting.

"Do you need help?"

Minho doesn't give a direct answer, moving something over inside the fridge to make room, but he doesn't have to. He was easy to read once you knew him.

You start handing him things one at a time - a package of fresh chicken, sliced cheese and shredded ham for Han's sandwiches. You can't help but glance over your shoulder at the thought of the third body in the room; Han's slumped in the armchair on the other side of the television, eyes closed and forehead hidden behind the hood of his sweatshirt, though you can't tell if he's asleep or not. He might've been snoring earlier, but you had nearly fallen asleep yourself, lost in thought about far too many things and conformable against Chan -

"Are you hungry?"

Minho sounds tired. You shrug, not wanting him to go out of his way. Your stomach's been feeling weird all day anyway, so you aren't sure if you want to test your luck just yet. "I don't know, I've been feeling off all day."

"Are you sick?" he asks, finally closing the fridge with a loud thump.

"Unnecessary!" Chan calls loudly as he tries to reach over and grab the remote from Changbin. "Go back!"

Thankfully, you're saved from answering by Chan's stunned tone as Minho and you turn towards the living room to see what's going on.

"Get your own TV," Changin grumbles in return, opting to skip the overly dramatic movie he lands on next. "I told you I'm not watching that dumb show."

"It's not even your TV," Minho interjects sourly. "Stop fighting over my stuff."

"I helped pay for half of it!" Changbin argues easily, turning his head to shoot Minho a scathing look. "It was my idea to upgrade anyway, not yours!"

You grimace at the increase in noise, your head beginning to throb. Another headache, you realize with a soft sigh. God, what was with you today?

"Someone wake up Hannie," Minho interrupts, reaching for a pot. "I need help with dinner."

And that, for some reason, is what stops Chan and Changbin's bickering. "It's only four," Changbin immediately complains, slumping against the back of the couch and finally allowing Chan access to the remote. "I had a late lunch, what, are you trying to make sure I starve later?"

"I don't care," Minho throws back as he flicks on a burner. "I'm hungry now."

You decide to walk back into the living room, gently giving Han a squeeze to his knee as you pass, startling him awake. He blinks owlishly in your direction as you collapse back on the cushion in between Chan and Changbin, your head falling on Chan's shoulder.

Minho calls Han to the kitchen once he sees that he's awake, and with a gentle tone he would never use with anyone else. You smile when you notice, tucking closer to Chan.

Han is sluggish in getting to his feet and making his way over, but then you watch as he trudges to Minho's side and reaches for a knife, only for the older to slap his hand away and push him over to the boiling pot instead.

Changbin resorts to his phone on your left, scrolling endlessly on what you hope isn't Twitter, shooting bitter glances at the television every now and again while you sit pressed against someone who you trust more than life as he chuckles softly at a cheesy joke on the television.

It's so easy to want to fall back into the fun parts of a relationship, but it's the hard parts that keep you from giving in. Things with Chan were always somewhere in the middle, and it's that thought that keeps you from being the one to start things back up again, especially with college, and juggling what remains of your business on top of dealing with your mother's incessance that you're taking too long with the degree you never should have gotten in the first place -

"Hey," Chan whispers, leaning close to your ear. "You okay?"

His arm is slung around your shoulders, fingers brushing the exposed skin of your arm. You didn't even notice him move, but you're grateful for his presence all the same. It's only easy for you to break his mannerisms down the way that you do because you've known him since high school, and the two of you have been on and off since his first year of college.

Chan wasn't much older than you, but the truth was that you never intended to go to college, until your parents insisted, even though you've been making a good amount of money through art commissions in a supportive community. But, of course, to them that didn't mean much, so here you were, battling through your last year of college for an art degree just to spite them some more.

"I'm okay," you whisper back, reaching over and tugging playfully at his arm. "Thanks for being the world's greatest pillow." His chest rumbles with a soft chuckle. Your stomach flips in that way that makes it hard to tell what exactly you feel.

"I'm just glad you're feeling better," he replies easily, tugging you closer. "I'm sorry that you felt bad at all, I know all it does is make the day feel even longer than it usually does."

"It wasn't all bad," you supply, idly watching the characters onscreen poke and prod at each other until one can't take anymore. "Jeongin helped me out during class, and Felix walked me over."

Chan hums and the both of you lapse into a comfortable silence. Not that you could even really call it silence with the force known as Minho and Han in the kitchen, but it's close enough. He's the one to break it a few minutes later, fingers drumming softly against your skin.

"Jeongin is..." he pauses, thinking. "The one in your math class, right?"

"No, that's Seungmin, the one Minho threatened to boil alive."

That makes him laugh, and Changbin grumble from the noise, shifting away. "Oh right, I remember that." He stifles another bout of laughter, and you can't help but turn and look at him, your own lips tugging into a smile at the sight. He glances at you and can't contain himself, and then you both collapse into laughter that rings through the living room.

"Jeongin is the one she spends the most time with," Changbin interrupts from behind his phone, eyeing Chan carefully. "He's in nearly all her classes."

"Oh right, right," Chan says as soon as the two of you are able to contain your laughter, nodding his head as you settle back against him again. "He was sweet."

"Felix was the sweetheart," Changbin corrects, finally putting his phone down. "Hyunjin was artsy," he continues, unbidden as he sits up, "and Jeongin was...something else."

"Something else?" you question, turning to Changbin. "What does that mean?"

Changbin looks back at you like he knows something you don't, which doesn't make any sense, considering he was usually the last to know about a lot of things. Your key to Minho's apartment, for example. How could it be something he lost when you knew for a fact that it was Chan who had stolen it and snuck it on your keychain. But the way he looks at you now isn't something you're used to, and as the seconds tick by, you're not quite sure if you want to know what exactly he's talking about or not.

"I thought the day went well," you pivot, turning back to Chan. "None of you ended up hating each other, and that's all I needed to know."

"Jeongin was nice," Chan tacks on, though his eyes flit between you and the television like he's unsure where exactly he should look. You ignore him in favor of glaring at Changbin, just because you can. Changbin withers under your gaze and takes it as his cue to stand up and barrel into the kitchen, inserting himself between Han and the knife he's somehow gotten ahold of in the meantime.

"Weirdo," you mumble after he's out of earshot.

Chan hums softly in agreement.

Your headache starts to fade after a while, but the out of place feeling in your chest lingers, and though whatever Minho's cooking smells amazing, your stomach just cannot seem to handle the smell. You exhale and sit up, deciding to leave before you become anymore of a burden, not that Minho ever has time to say such a thing when moving out of college landed him with three party crashers at all times to distract him from your presence.

Chan, Changbin and Han had graduated together, eager to get their start in music producing or sound engineering, but the future never worked out how you thought it would, and now Changbin was working nights as bouncer at a club, Chan was pinballing between odd jobs, and Han was torn between going back to college for a 'better degree' or moving back in with his parents.

You had talked him out of the latter, thankfully, but you knew it was hard for him, with the anxiety that curled so easily around his insides the same as your own did.

It was luck that Minho had just so happened to graduate with a degree that allowed him to get paid enough to live on, and that he also just so happened to be Han's roommate during college. Chan and Changbin had followed Minho around like ducklings as soon as Han introduced them, and the rest was history. Or couch surfing. Or a friendship that would last a lifetime.

"I should get going," you tell Chan as you stand, casting a glance towards the kitchen. You left your things by the door so you really have no reason to go that way, but you figure that the least you could do was thank Minho for not kicking you out or threatening to boil you alongside the chicken.

"Will you be okay getting home?" Chan asks, muting the television. "I can walk you."

"I'll be fine," you drone with a poorly hidden smile, heading over to the kitchen. "I'm gonna go, Minho," you say, Changbin scooting himself to the other side of the kitchen island to avoid your path. "Thank you for having me."

Minho scoffs, shaking his head but not bothering to turn towards you as he swats Han away again. "You're always welcome here," he replies, tone dry. "Stop acting like I won't let you in."

"Maybe one of these times you won't," you chime, making your way over to the door and slipping on your shoes. "For all I know, I could be using up all my free visits."

"Aish," he tsks, and you catch his gaze over the curve in the wall, the playful tug of the corner of his lips. "Get out then," he tells you, and you can't help but laugh as you sling your bag over your shoulder and open the door.

taglist

@kokinu09 @rainfallingfromthesky @rylea08 @jenniferlr @enzos-shit @sxnset-angel @amyyscorner @puppysmileseungmin @thatonedemigodfromseoul

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the-insomniac-emporium · 3 years ago

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Wounded Love (Lady Dimitrescu/F!Reader)

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: M for mature. Blood, more blood, heavy language, seriously lots of blood. Literally the bloodiest/most detailed thing I've written. Genre: Super angst with some fluff to ease the pain. We're talking putting honey in your cup of poison to make it taste better. The ending is split, with both a happy and a sad ending. Warnings: Minor surgery (technically?) while the patient is fully awake (that's the reader, btws), blood loss, graphic depiction of a wound and how said wound is taken care of. Possible trigger for self-harm, as the reader is performing part of the surgery themselves. Also brief mention of cannibalism in the bad ending. This may very well be a Dead Dove: Do Not Eat sort of thing. Notes: While I have more medical knowledge than the average person, due to my Girl Scouts training + having a mother as a nurse, I am in no way shape or form a medical professional, and do not suggest that the methods of treatment used in this fic be taken seriously. If you find yourself seriously injured, do not attempt to replicate anything you read here. Only a portion of this is based on a real-ass incident I went through, the rest is based on a dream, and what I experienced was not what you want to do in an emergency.

{Wounded Love}

This was a mistake. Blood stains your leg, your fingers, and bruises start to form all over your exhausted body. And for what? Why had you, a tiny, fragile human, dared to pass through this damned, lycan-infested forest? Because a woman who didn’t even love you asked you to. Now you were going to die, body certain to get left out in the cold or reduced to a pile of gnawed bones. If you had more strength remaining, you might have slammed your hand into the ground in frustration, or screamed until your lungs burned from something other than frost.

But that wouldn’t get you anywhere. Wouldn’t help you get back to the castle, wouldn’t ease the racing of your heart. So you settle for the only thing that might do any good: One quick motion pulls the scarf from your neck, sending a chill down your spine that you promptly ignore. Even with shaky hands and numb fingers, your experience is enough to let you wrap the cloth around your leg, tying the ends in a knot to secure it. The pressure hurts, just not enough for you to prefer bleeding out. A test step reveals that walking is mildly more difficult now.

“I’m going to haunt her,” you muse, under your breath, tears starting to freeze at the corner of your eyes. Still, you are as quietly determined as ever, and so once more you limp down the path. Every time you put weight on your injured leg it protests harder. If not for the snow and ice covering the ground, you might have quickly searched for a walking stick. “What could be so important about this damn package? Couldn’t Doug or whatever-his-fucking-name-is deliver it? Man can practically teleport, and here I am, watching as blood loss and hypothermia race to see who can kill me first.”

Gods were you angry. Why had this happened so soon after you had settled in? Finally you had been comfortable in Castle Dimitrescu, no longer as frightened of the residents, even finding them… charming, in a way. Then the Lady of house called to you for what she claimed to be a simple errand. You had believed her, even when she explained that you would have to leave the relative safety of her home. What a fool you had been.

“What a fool she must be,” you murmur, “to think me safe here. To think I could outlast wolfmen prowling the village outskirts.” Would she even care if she saw you now? Would she be surprised, disappointed? Would she do something to change your fate? There was no reason for her to do so. It didn’t matter how much you had helped her, how much she claimed to appreciate what you did (heavy lifting, repair of clothing, massages). You were as replaceable as any other Maiden there was. And that, that was what made you have a double-take. It came to you in that moment, a thought so painful that you could not deny it was the truth. “She never thought I would survive.”

Bitterness coats your tongue, like blood in your throat, and your brain demands that you destroy your cargo, the very thing that got you sent here in the first place. You almost do it. Feet stopping, arms shrugging the carrying straps off, bloody hands taking hold of it. Tears fall, just two, and hit the package. At that moment your plan changed. This new idea would be far, far more satisfying… as long as you succeeded.

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Spite was one hell of a drug. Enough of it and you could march your warm corpse right back to the castle, fist banging on the front door with everything you had. The path had been shorter than you thought, thankfully, but it had still taken so much out of you. Now you were leaning against the door, sliding down it, unable to support your own weight. Nothing inside the castle stirred. Were they ignoring you? Was Alcina really going to let you die inches from your “home”? Fuck that, you thought.

“Alcina!” You scream, loud as you can, startling the birds in the distant trees. The word echoes around you and rattles inside your ribs. It’s not enough. “Damn it, I am seconds away from dying, get out here now so I can look you in your fucking eyes!” Something tears a little in your throat, turning the last of your words into a hellish screech, leaving you to gasp and croak in the snow. You go to wipe your tear-filled eyes with your hands, only to remember just how much blood they’re covered in.

Sobs overtake you in just a few moments. You’re blinded by tears, deafened by sorrows, and numb from all the cold. In the aching seconds before you black out, you can only barely make out the silhouette of someone rushing to your side…

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The first thing you feel when you wake up is mind searing pain. You try to jolt upwards, only to find a pair of strong, gloved hands holding you down. Someone shouts something, but you can’t make it out, and you feel another hand gently squeeze one of your own. Pained gasps escape your throat one after the other, but whatever is hurting you doesn’t stop. It takes a full minute for you to adjust enough to make sense of where you are. At last, you understand what’s being said.

“-it’s okay, shhh, please, we’re trying to help,” says none other than Lady Dimitrescu herself. She’s the one holding your hand, doing her best not to hurt you with her grip, trying desperately to calm you down. One the other side of you, Cassandra is positioned to hold you down. There’s a tight-lipped scowl on her face, and her brow is furrowed, but she’s not looking at your face, but rather eying somewhere in the opposite direction. Following her gaze, you find her older sister is sitting near your injured leg, and is undeniably the source of some of your pain. In one hand she holds a bottle of alcohol (notably not the wine her family produces), the other holding a wet cloth to your wound. No wonder it stings so much.

“Shit, shit, stop,” you growl, barely getting the words out. But all anyone does is look at you. Alcina’s mouth opens to speak, only for you to cut her off. “I’ve got medical training, for the love of Mother Miranda let me help! How long have I been unconscious?” This time Bela stops, glancing at her mother for direction. The grip on your torso grows looser, with Cassandra evidently heeding your words, and you take the chance to sit up, careful not to move your leg. At this point you realize that there’s a needle of sorts in your arm, attached to a tube, which trails up into a blood bag. It’s clearly been improvised with equipment from the “wine-making” part of the castle.

“Fifteen minutes at most,” a new voice chimes, from somewhere behind you. “I got that cloth you wanted, mother, but something tells me I’m not done fetching things.” Ah, Daniela Dimitrescu. Was the whole family helping you?... Why? As much as you wanted answers, there wasn’t (currently) time for questions. Not when one glance at your leg tells you that some of your flesh is rapidly decomposing. The wound was made only an hour ago, and already it was getting deadlier than you could even process.

“I need a sharp, clean knife, a needle with thread, a glass of water, and someone needs to put a metal tool, sterilized, on the stove, right now,” you said, finding it easier to talk now that no one was cleansing your wound. Without hesitation Daniela dispersed into a cloud of insects, heading towards the kitchen, while Cassandra stood up and moved towards the stairs.

“Guess I’ll get the needle,” she said, sounding rather unenthusiastic.

“What are you planning?” Alcina asks, more concerned than you had ever heard her before. Attempting to reassure her, you manage a small smile before explaining.

“Got scratched and slobbered on by a lycan. Whatever they have, it’s infectious. If I want to save my leg, or at least have a chance at surviving, I have to take measures to reduce the likelihood of an infection,” you say. Now Alcina is slowly stroking her thumb across your hand, eyes narrowed with concern. There’s a look on her face that you can’t quite parse, something she’s not saying. For now you ignore it and continue going over your plan. “The best thing would be to amputate. The tourniquet might have helped prevent the saliva from getting further into my body- and I do mean might- but I can’t keep it on forever. Problem is… I don’t want to lose it. God, I’m terrified of that, and with what we have in the castle I… I’d be more likely to die of shock than not. So, well, forget that idea.

“I’m just going to remove the wound. By making a bigger wound. It’s crazy, I know, but this will kill me if we do nothing. It will probably kill me if we do. The technical term is some shit like ‘de-bride-ing’?... No, debridement, I think. Except normally the poor fucker getting cut open is asleep for the procedure.” By the time you’re done, Lady Dimitrescu is looking at you with horror. Yeah, you had a feeling she wouldn’t appreciate the idea. “Look, if this is too much… if it’s not worth saving me, if you’d rather give me a quick death, I understand. If I were-”

“Don’t be foolish, dear. You will not die, not as long as something can be done about it,” Alcina replies, quickly, eager to stop hearing you talk about dying. It’s… strange to hear her sound so confident about saving you, even stranger to realize what she called you. As if reading your thoughts, she shifts in her seat, avoiding your gaze for a moment. Shyness didn’t suit her, and you imagined it was more about her finding the right words. When she speaks, she’s looking right at you again. “I have hesitated to tell you the truth, and now I find the world playing a cruel trick on me, trying to take that which I adore. But I don’t want to aggravate your stress right now. Please, think nothing of what I have said.”

Before you could reply, footsteps reached your ears, and soon enough Daniela returns. In one hand she holds a large pitcher of water. In the other? Several knives, of various sizes, one of which you’re pretty sure you’ve seen Cassandra playing with before. As soon as you see her your face lights up, glad to be able to start the procedure.

“Oh thank fuck- or, I mean, thank you, Lady Daniela,” you stutter, reaching out as she offers you the items. Thankfully Bela had already made room on the table at your side, where she had set the bottle of alcohol down. For a moment you had forgotten that she was there. Had she already known about her mother’s feelings? Based on her lack of reaction, you could only assume that she was well aware. “I’m gonna scream, B-T-dubs. Just, uh, cover your ears?” You offer, already holding your chosen knife (big enough to be effective, small enough to offer precision).

“So… you’re going to do this yourself? Didn’t think you had it in you, red. Try not to cut anything important. Wouldn’t want to have to clean that mess up,” Daniela teases. As soon as she’s finished she has to shift into a swarm, as Bela flat out throws a knife at her. For a moment you freeze, watching as Alcina rises to her full height, staring her eldest daughter down. Behind her, Daniela reforms, clearly using her mother as a shield. “I was just trying to relieve the tension, jeez. It’s like you think she’s already dead.”

“Don’t speak another word!” Alcina snaps, sending a frightening stare towards Daniela. You cough, awkwardly, not knowing what to do. Meanwhile Bela is pinching the bridge of her nose between two fingers, clearly tired of dealing with her sister’s sense of humor. “No one will speak a word until this is finished, unless my dear needs something, understood?” Both the girls nod at that, neither feeling a need to risk any further ire.

“I’m just going to start working now,” you awkwardly chime, taking a deep breath before leaning in towards your injured leg. On closer inspection you can see a strange, dark residue in the wound. They’re specks, scattered along the length of it, and they seem more common the closer you look to the gash’s center. Gross, you think. Half curious, half checking for legitimate reasons, you bring your other hand to the cut and gently spread both sides apart. It hurts like hell, and you have to bite down on your lip to stop yourself from screaming. But sure enough, the residue is practically solid at the deepest point of the wound. “Those lycans really should be on leashes.”

Out of the corner of your eye you can see Daniela exchange looks with Bela, but neither of them disobey their mother (yet). Shaking the thought away, you finally get to the brunt of the task at hand. Your hand moves slowly, reluctant to inflict such damage against its own body. As soon as the tip of the knife touches your skin, you start to doubt your ability to do this. It takes looking at Alcina, seeing the way she watches you with equal parts concern and tenderness, to remind you why you’re doing this. Death just wasn’t something you could accept right now; not after what she had said, what she had implied.

The knife is fantastically sharp. Hardly any pressure is needed before your flesh gives away, cells letting go of their neighbors like it was a casual affair. You start at the left side of your injury, digging down a little, trying to only go as deep as you needed to. Tears formed in your eyes but you quickly blinked them away. As the first of many screams leaves your mouth, you turn and twist the knife, cutting to the right, then up. Like scooping the seeds out of a pumpkin. Fresh blood springs from the wound, starting to fill up the crevice. Quickly you discard the skin you removed by tossing it into the same bowl that Bela had put a bloody towel in earlier.

“Yes,” you shudder through gritted teeth, “this hurts so fucking bad. No, I don’t need someone to take over yet.” At this point neither of the present sisters are looking at you, seeming oddly uncomfortable at the sight of you cut up like this. Hadn’t they done worse to your fellow Maidens?... Whatever, the thought couldn’t last long when you still had work to do.

Next you take a fresh, damp cloth and dab at your injury, ignoring how it throbbed beneath your touch. Then you resumed cutting, forced to press the knife deeper in order to remove the spreading residue. If you had been a scientist, this would have been utterly fascinating to observe. Whatever had been in the lycan’s saliva was slowly eating at your flesh, but not outright dissolving it. No, it simply left the skin where it was, but killed and rapidly broke it down. Yes, it would have been fascinating, if not for the fact that there was a chance you wouldn’t be able to outpace the bacteria.

With this in mind you force yourself to hold in your next scream, hoping to make it easier for you to focus. The knife continued to cut, going lower, setting nerves alight as it did. Your vision starts to blur, and for a few seconds you think you’re going to black out. Someone says something you don’t hear, and then suddenly there’s a hand on top of your own. When your vision clears you see Bela is responsible, her grip keeping you from dropping the knife. She doesn’t let go until you give her a clear nod. Even then, she seems reluctant to let you continue.

Around this time is when Cassandra returns. Her footsteps catch your attention (it’s your understanding that carrying objects is much harder in swarm mode), and you spare her a quick glance before getting back to work. A few moments later she’s placing a set of needles and a long spool of thread next to you. Ironically, they’re the same tools that you’ve used to repair and adjust Alcina’s dresses over the past year. Hopefully they work just as well on flesh, you think. Your next thoughts are canceled out by unbelievable pain. More cries leave your lips, and your hand starts shaking. Panic is settling in fast, your movements getting sharper, leading you to make a brash decision: Time to care less about precision and more about speed.

“Distract me, please,” you gasp between grunts. No one responds at first, and you know they need clarification. Speaking is getting harder by the second, but you do your best. “Brain can’t process many stimulants, same time. Just- fuck- trace skin around wound, touch hair, anything.” Somewhere between your semi-broken sentences and screams, Alcina gets the message. She’s moving closer, now, behind you, one arm wrapping around your waist, the other rubbing gentle circles on your undamaged leg. Across from you Daniela is too busy pacing to help, though you can hardly blame her.

“Should I get the metal thing from the stove?” Cassandra asks, silently hoping that Dani hadn’t assumed someone else was going to handle that part. You’re still in too much pain to talk, so you half nod half grunt in response. Not bothering to say anything, the middle child takes off, swarm moving at what might be a new speed record.

As much as your hands are shaking, you still manage to cut away another strip of flesh, tossing it aside with even less care than before. This time Bela wipes the wound for you, practically reading your mind. The moment her hands are completely out of the way you start cutting again, crying out, throat shredded to pieces from all your screaming. Alcina sounds like she might be close to sobbing, but she doesn’t stop her movements, doing her best to distract you just like you had asked. Even Bela helps, now, tracing spots around your injury whenever she knows she won’t be in your way. The effect is minor, in the end, hardly making a dent in how much pain you’re processing.

If you survive this, though, you’re hugging every daughter as tight as you can and showering them with affection… but only after you finish doing the same for their mother.

“You are so brave,” Alcina murmurs next to your ear. It’s even clearer now how close she is to crying, her voice seconds away from cracking. Hearing her like this almost hurts as bad as the initial lycan attack did. “You are so strong. No other mortal could ever be your match. Do you understand, my dear? You are blessed, divine, and I love you so much.”

In any other setting, her words would leave you melting in her arms, radiating affection so strongly that you might as well have been radioactive. Instead, you are unable to respond, or even look her way. All you can do is press the knife to your skin again, showing your own feelings by destroying yourself for her.

The blade is starting to find more resistance, and you’re having to pause more often, spots appearing in your vision. Going faster only makes things worse, your hand threatening to slip. You’re determined to finish this, no matter what, but your need to control the situation is gradually making things worse. Alcina notices this before you do, and acts before you have a chance to protest.

“Bela, the knife,” she says, then tightens her grip on your waist. Your confusion shifts to panic as your arm is carefully, but forcefully, pulled away from your wound. “Can you finish the job?” It takes you a few moments to realize that Alcina isn’t talking to you. No, she’s speaking to her eldest daughter, who doesn’t hesitate to take the knife away from you. It’s so easy for her, between her strength and your weakness. “Don’t struggle. Let us finish this.”

Protests rise from your throat and die in your mouth. Pain flares harder now that Bela isn’t distracting you. Once more your vision goes dark, but this time there’s no pause, no hesitation. You are suffering, horribly, and the Dimitrescu family refuses to make you hurt longer than necessary. It’ll be over soon, you think, not knowing whether you refer to your pain or your life itself.

Something wet drops onto the back of your neck, then darkness overtakes you…

------------------------

“Damn those lycans, I should string Heisenberg up myself! They’re his responsibility, after all,” Lady Dimitrescu snarls, trying to ignore the tears in her eyes. Now that you’re unconscious, unable to hear what ails her, she feels free to voice her thoughts. “The damn things should never have come close to the path to the village.”

“What if she strayed from the path? Wouldn’t that explain it?” Bela suggests, even as her hands work to remove what seems to be the last piece of dead/infected flesh from your leg. She hates how the words feel in her mouth, hates suggesting that you of all people might have betrayed her mother’s trust. But it makes sense. After all, this whole mess, with you leaving the castle to retrieve a mysterious package, was all a test to see if you would try to run. It hadn’t been her idea, and Bela admitted to herself that she thought it was unnecessary.

“On the way back? Why would she bother getting the package if she intended to run?” Lady Dimitrescu asks, right as Cassandra returns. The middle child is practically juggling the metal spatula she’s carrying, irritated (not harmed) by the heat it produced. One of her brows perks up when she hears the conversation, but she keeps any thoughts she has to herself.

“Just a thought, mother, I didn’t quite believe it myself,” Bela chimes, after a pause. With that said she holds up her hand with pride, clutching between her fingers the last of the decaying flesh. The way the others react, one might have thought that a miracle had been performed. Daniela clapped her hands together, giggling a little, and finally stopped her pacing. “Don’t celebrate too much, now,” Bela reminded her, taking the spatula from Cassandra as she did. “There’s still plenty to do. It’s a good thing she’s not awake for this part.”

A good thing, indeed. She uses her fingers to spread the remaining skin a little, giving a quick examination, then deciding that she had successfully removed all remaining residue. Keeping her fingers where they were, she pressed the side of the spatula to your skin, putting the most pressure at the center of the wound. Three seconds passed, then she lifted her hand. A pause. She pressed it back into place, keeping a close eye on the affected area. This repeated several times, the gaps being necessary to prevent unintentional damage. Once the wound seemed properly closed she set the spatula aside.

“Is that it?... Did we save her?” Daniela asks, opting to finally sit down in a nearby chair. Something about her word choice makes both of her sisters scoff.

“I could sew it closed, as a precaution, but there’s no way I’d do it the way she had intended. It might be best to just give her time to rest, and see what she thinks when she gets back up,” Bela answers. For a moment her words hang in the air, but eventually Alcina gives a little nod and a hum.

“Very well. I shall carry her to my quarters, where she won’t be disturbed. Please, let one of the Maidens know to bring some food up this evening,” Alcina says, gently taking you into her arms as she does…

------------------------

BAD ENDING: It’s been six hours, with no sign of you waking up. Your other wounds had been examined, cleaned, and bandaged. Food had been carefully prepared and brought up to you, though it now remained on the bedside table, untouched. Alcina has gone to call Mother Miranda, intending to speak to her about the growing unrest of the lycans, as Heisenberg hadn’t answered his phone. For the first time since you returned you are alone. It is now, of all times, that you awaken. A gasp sends you into a coughing spree, forcing you into a sitting position. The space around you feels like it's moving, and your vision blurs. Blood spills from your mouth as you finally regain the ability to breathe.

Seconds later your vision clears, but what you see is enough to make you wish you couldn’t. The blood that spilled onto the sheets is a dark red… with even darker spots scattered throughout it. All at once you know what happened: Residue had hidden from you, or gone deeper than your wound, infecting you before you ever stood a chance. Tears threaten to spill from your eyes, but something deeper starts calling to you. Something older. Darker. It drags you to your feet, ignores the pain of your wounds, and sends you out the bedroom door.

Your mind is racing, thoughts never quite clear enough for you to understand. It doesn’t feel like you’re in control of your own movements. Was something else in charge, or were you operating on an infection powered autopilot? Answers weren’t coming, just bloodshed.

“You’re not supposed to be out of bed yet!” A voice calls out to you, making you turn to investigate. On the other end of the hallway is a maiden, one you instantly recognize. You’ve worked with her before, plenty of times, tag-teaming more tasks than you could count. She was like a sister to you. When she sees the blood staining your clothes, she gasps, then moves to support you. “Please, Lady Dimitrescu will be so upset if you-” her words melt into a blood curdling scream. For a moment you don’t understand.

And then you swallow, a chunk of hot meat slipping down your throat, and the scream dies down.

“What?...” You whisper, finally tasting the blood in your mouth, watching as your friend’s body falls to the floor. There’s a chunk of flesh missing from her neck, and the dots connect themselves in your head. You did that. Every part of you wants to scream, wants to cry out and beg someone to come kill you. Instead you fall to your knees, hard, uncaring. Your hands move themselves, grasping at the still warm corpse. Something has made you stronger, or at the very least removed the mental limits that kept you from destroying yourself. Flesh gives under your touch, tearing like paper, and you start crying as it reaches your mouth.

Footsteps approach, thundering fast, and you want to warn whoever it is. When you turn to look, you feel your hands let go of your meal. Your gaze meets that of a stunned Cassandra Dimitrescu, then drifts to the sickle in her hand.

“Kill me,” you growl, voice distorted, practically echoing. “Kill me now!” Not needing to be told a third time, Cassandra moves lightning quick, swarm-jumping forward before manifesting behind you, sickle dragging across your throat in one smooth motion. But it’s not enough. She realizes this, though, and slams her foot into your back, sending you tumbling forward. It’s enough to prevent you from countering, which gives her time to advance again, this time pulling a knife from her boot and driving it into the center of your back. When you scream, it’s not with your own voice, but that of a monster.

“Fucking fuck, what the fuck, red?” Daniella asks as she rounds the corner, eyes immediately landing on your bloodsoaked mouth. She’s quick to take in the scene, drawing a conclusion easily, even if it breaks her heart a little. Your vision fades as she approaches, and you know that it’s finally over. If only you had expired a few seconds earlier… because the last thing you hear is the startled cry of your would-be lover.

“No! No, darling, what happened-” Alcina finishes her sentence, but you do not hear it. You do not hear anything, anymore. You do not know it… but there will be hell to pay for your death.

------------------------

GOOD ENDING: When you awake, you find yourself in the softest sheets you’ve ever touched, a warm and familiar presence next to you. The first thing you see is Alcina’s sleeping face next to your own. She’s on her side, one arm around your waist, the covers pulled up to her hip. Warmth fills your chest as you take in the sight. For a few moments you just… appreciate this. Never before had you imagined that you would get to wake up next to the woman you loved so much. A sigh, one of bliss, leaves your lips. Slowly you move forward, gently placing a kiss to Alcina’s cheek. Seconds later her eyelids flutter open, and she tiredly takes you in.

“You’re… awake,” she murmurs, hardly awake herself. But her fatigue doesn’t last long. As soon as she’s fully processed the situation her eyes go wide. Then she’s pulling you closer, careful not to hurt you, and peppering little kisses over your face. “I’ve been so worried, dear. You scared us so much.” The hurt in her voice leaves you restless, making you curl up against her, desperate to soothe her worries. Moving hurts a little, but not enough to dissuade you from your goal.

“I’m sorry, love,” you say, tears pricking your eyes. “I’m okay, I’m alive, the plan worked out. You don’t have to fret for me anymore. I won’t leave you, I promise.” Slowly but surely, Alcina calms, exchanging kisses for softly running her fingers through your hair. There’s such love in her eyes that you can hardly believe you aren’t dreaming. “You’re amazing, Alcina. I could stay like this all day.”

“Maybe we should,” she offers, chuckling a little. Once again you give her a quick kiss, unable to resist the urge. “I should have never asked you to leave. I should have just trusted you.” The words give you pause, and you tilt your head in confusion. Realizing that you still didn’t know the full story, Alcina frowns. “The package is worthless, just a bundle of straw and a few rocks for weight. It was never what I cared about.”

Tension builds in your chest, and for a few seconds you have no idea how to react. It takes a minute for you to think, to connect the dots, but once you do it’s a tad bit easier to breathe. A scowl twists your lips as you think of what to say.

“If I had known that Heisenberg was forgoing his duties, I never would have sent you outside,” Alcina adds, the silence taking its toll on her.

“You shouldn’t have sent me either way,” you respond, bitterly, thinking of all that you had seen and heard on your journey. “I would have done anything to prove to you how I feel. There are other ways to show devotion- far less dangerous ways, at that.”

“I know, dear. You have every right to be angry… and watching you suffer has taught me all that I need to know,” Alcina says, still playing with your hair, trying to ease the tension. As upset as you about this recent revelation… it’s not enough to change how you feel about her, and you want her to understand that, fully and completely.

So you lean into her touch, let your eyes drift close for a moment, then softly place one of your arms around her as best as you can.

“We’ll need to talk about this more… just not right now. Right now, I need you, Alcina. I need to hold you, and be held by you, and just know that you’re here. That I’m here. That neither of us are going anywhere,” you say, resting your forehead against hers. “I need to feel safe, and your arms are the safest place I can imagine. Stay here with me?”

“It will be the easiest thing I have ever done.”

#alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #alcina x reader #lady dimitrescu x reader #tw blood #tw self harm #tw cannibalism #blood blood blood oops #I wrote this instead of sleeping because my hands cannot be stopped #typeity type type type #sorry if the formatting is off #i'm trying the new editor or whatever #if it's fucked I'll fix it whenever I wake up

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years ago

Text

Fully Completely 3

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), violence, mutual irritation, harassment

This is dark!Loki x reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: There’s a new face in Birch and he’s come to haunt your door.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown, When the Weight Comes Down, and Little Bones

Note: On to part three. Sorry for being a human disaster.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter 3: Or it will move right through me

💀💀💀

Jerome annoyed you as he picked through your tool box and clicked the ratchet noisily. He was excited but impatient and complained that you were taking so long. You told him if he wanted to pay out of pocket for labour, you could finish faster.

You sat by his bike, parts strewn at your feet, and bent your head to look under the tank. You still had a lot to go and hadn’t yet added anymore of the gross chrome to the frame.

“Do you realise how filthy this is gonna get?” you huffed as you sat up and leaned your elbows on your legs, “not to mention how ridiculous it looks.”

“I like it. It’s just my style,” your brother grinned, “I don’t remember you spending this much time on Bucky’s ride and you and him--”

“He had me replace the tailpipe, you want nothing short of a rebuild,” you scoffed, “and you’re not the boss.”

“Don’t remind me,” he rolled his eyes, “guess it could be worse though. It could be Steve.”

“Thank god it’s not,” you chuckled, “I don’t know how many women had to toss beer in his face before he latched onto that mousy one at the bakery.”

“She’s nice,” Jerome shrugged, “far as I know. She doesn’t talk to anyone but Steve.”

“I wonder why,” you tisked, “he has insecurity written across his forehead.”

The tinny bell rang and the door whooshed open as the wind caught it. Jerome glanced over and dropped the ratchet noisily into the drawer of the tool box. You growled in warning as you spent much of your spare cash on those. He apologised quietly as he squared his shoulders at the man who appeared.

“Hey,” Bucky wiped the flakes from his hair and blew out a shiver.

“Bucky,” Jerome said rigidly.

The other man nodded and stepped further inside the garage. He shoved his hands in his pockets and paced aimlessly around the concrete floor. You watched him as you fiddled with the bolt in your hand.

“You wanna head down to the bar?” It wasn’t a question as Bucky came to face you, “I gotta talk to your sister.”

“Sure,” Jerome replied sharply, “you got it, boss.”

Bucky grumbled and waited for him to leave. He sniffed and kicked his toe into the floor.

“So… what’re you doing here? Been a while so must be urgent,” you sat up on the rolling stool and stretched your back.

“The whole town’s talking about it. You fighting him,” his brows drew together, “I told you I’d take care of him.”

“You didn’t,” you said evenly, “so I did.”

“I talked to him--”

“And said what?” you snorted.

“Look, you don’t understand. You said it yourself, you don’t care about my business. You don’t get what’s going on but what I need from him is bigger than your temper.”

“Excuse me? This is my fault? He broke into my shop, he followed me from that diner and he put his hands on me,” you stood and tossed the bolt away, “what do you want me to do, Buck?”

“First, I want you to remind yourself who I am. We’re not fucking anymore so that mouth isn’t as cute,” he warned, “and I want you to play nice.”

“All you have to do is keep him away from me. How hard is that for a man like you, huh? You’re the big dog.”

“Watch it,” he pointed at you, “I won’t tell you again.”

“He’s here to deal with you, not me,” you insisted, “he grabbed me, I defended myself, and I’ll do it again.”

“This isn’t grade school anymore, you can’t fight the boys,” he sighed.

“What are you saying?”

He was silent as his jaw ticked and his blue eyes strayed to the ceiling. You stepped closer and gripped your hips as you stared him down.

“There’s nothing else I can do for you. Nothing else I will do. He’s your problem.”

He met your glare and you scoffed in disgust, “you’re fucking serious? What do these idiots have on you?”

“It’s not what they have on me, it’s what I want from them. I’m planning for something bigger than Birch, that means there’s gonna be some sacrifices,” he shrugged.

“Sacrifices? Is that what you call it? Well, here’s one for you, the next time you get a little scuff on your tank or your headlight starts to flicker, you can head down to Carl’s,” you scowled.

“Don’t do this,” he gritted through his teeth.

“I can get business without you. I do better work than Carl, you know that. So go, I’ll deal with that asshole on my own, how I see fit.”

He inhaled and lifted his chin. He closed his eyes and thought.

“Damn it,” he swore, “you can’t make anything fucking easy. What is it with you women and your god damn--” he lifted his hand and stopped himself, “you get in the way of my business, and you won’t be so worried about Loki.”

“Oh yeah? That’s what he said about you,” you mocked, “what’s with you men and your egos?”

His lip curled and he breathed through his teeth. His eyes lit up and he punched his palm as he turned away quickly.

“I hope he has his fun with you. Maybe he can fuck some sense into you,” Bucky growled, “God knows I tried.”

“You weren’t that good,” you snipped.

He kicked the shelf of wipers hung near the front of the shop and grunted. He stormed to the doorway and stopped to look back at you.

“You’ll be wishing it was me…” he hissed.

He waved you off and continued through the front door, slamming it behind him loudly. You stared at the scattered packages of wipers and bit down on your tongue. You wanted to run out and strangle that idiot but you knew how he could be. It was the reason you broke off your little fling; he was too much like you. Hard-headed and volatile.

💀

You weren’t going to change just because the town was overrun by asshole men. You were standing your ground and that meant you were going to finish your club sandwich and enjoy one lunch without interruption.

The café was busier that day as the snowfall dwindled and the streets were mostly cleared as the plows made their regular rounds. You looked through the window as the school kids stopped by the bakery for hot drinks on their lunch and circled the rim of your mug with your fingertip. You sensed it was only the lull before the storm.

Further down you could see the corner of The Asp and heard a rumbling engine. Your shop remained empty except for Jerome’s bike. Since Bucky’s visit, you were too worked up to concentrate anyway. You wanted to take your wrench and knock every man in town in the head with it.

Nora brought your sandwich as Kimmie didn’t work on the weekends and your side of soup. You would eat both and leave satisfied. You wouldn’t let anyone ruin your day off. Well, not that you had very much to do aside from that.

You dipped your crusts in the tomato soup and stared at the seat across from you. Empty. Perfect.

You scooped the last of the bowl into your mouth and wiped your lips with the napkin. You stood and gulped up your coffee. You left money on the table and headed out. A peaceful, solitary lunch all to yourself.

You skipped the shop and continued down the street. You pushed into the hobby shop you rarely ventured into, more a bookshop if you were honest. You greeted the man at the counter with a smile. When you were a girl, you remembered he ordered you a special set of paints as the ones in his store were all dried up. Lu, you recalled his name.

You went to the shelves of models and looked over the new arrivals. You took the Smokey and the Bandit Trans Am off the shelf and smirked. Your father had one just like it when you were a kid. It wasn’t exactly new. You grabbed a bottle of black paint with it, always running low on the stuff, and headed for the counter.

Lu punched the buttons on his till and you heard a creak. Light footsteps emerged from the basement of used books as you opened your wallet.

“I didn’t take you as bookish,” Loki’s voice made you cringe.

You didn’t answer and counted out the bills for your purchase, “actually, you got any glue? I didn’t see any on the shelf.”

“Hmm, oh,” Lu turned and bent to reach into a box, “haven’t stocked up but these came in just before the storm.”

He added the orange and white tube to your bag and you added another bill. He counted out your change and handed it to you.

“Quite interesting what small towns can hide,” Loki didn’t wait to step up to counter and stood close, his sleeve against yours, “An antique edition of Whitman. One of the only Americans I read.”

You looked down at the worn tome, the edges fraying and the letters faded. It was marked up to a couple hundred. You could appreciate a love for reading but you weren’t entirely sure some old paper was worth all that.

“I’ll need the reading material as my visit has been prolonged,” he mused as you grabbed your bag and headed for the door, “my brother is due to return so I will stay in his place… get to know the town of Birch more intimately.”

You hid your disgust at his words and continued out the door. His exaggerated tones stuck in your head as you passed the window and absently swung your bag. You hated him. You really did. You should have bashed him over the head with that dumb book.

You thought of that day in the snow and smiled. You knew that shame lingered in him. You would have no problem repeating that scene.

You came up to your shop and stopped short. The burly redhead who arrived with the pestilent man stood at your door, peering in through the window, angling his head as he tried to see around the blinds. You cleared your throat as you neared.

“Something I can help you with?” you asked dully.

“Oh, ah,” he turned and laughed at himself, “I thought… Loki, I thought he’d be here.”

“No. He wouldn’t be,” you said, “he’s down at the book shop.”

“Thanks. He apologise?” He prodded.

“You seem to know him well. You think he did?” you challenged.

“Ah, nah,” he smiled awkwardly, “s’pose he didn’t.”

“S’pose he didn’t,” you echoed, “it would be smart if you kept him away from here.”

“Yeah, uh, should do,” he sidled past you and you listened to his heavy boots clump along the beaten snow.

You took out your key and unlocked the door. You closed it quickly behind you, that man’s presence set you on edge. He hadn’t shown any of the venom of his associate but he was loyal to him. You double checked the locks on all the doors and made certain all windows were closed.

You went up stairs into your apartment and stripped off your coat and boots. You sat at the small table where you ate those dinners you didn’t forget and unpacked your new model. You sorted the pieces and spread out the instructions. The image of the car on the box brought back nostalgic memories. You wouldn’t know all you did about bikes if it wasn’t for your dad. You missed him every day for the last… too many years.

You lost yourself in the tiny parts. You hunched over the table and carefully dabbed glue onto the plastic. Your eyes began to itch as the windows dimmed and you got up to turn on the lamp. You kept building well after dark and finally left the half-finished car on the table.

You stretched out your limbs as you stripped down to only your loose tee and yawned. You fell into bed and turned on the old tube television. You hit play on the VCR and the loud previews blared from the boxy speakers. You rolled yourself in your comforter and sat through the same movie trailers you’d watched a dozen times.

You were never a romantic but you the movie was another shadow of your childhood. Your grandma used to watch Kathleen Turner whenever you went to her place. She would serve you yogurt and berries and turn on the cheesy action flick and if you slept over, she would put in the sequel right after.

Your rituals kept you sane. You found it was easier to know what to expect and given your temper, it was better not to be surprised. You were always the trouble child and you regretted all those times your dad had to come talk to the principal or walk you home from school. You promised him you would be better.

Still you didn’t regret what you did. He always told you to stand up for yourself. Hell, he taught you how to throw a punch and all your best insults were inherited from him. You smiled as you thought of him and hugged your pillow as the intro played and the credits flicked up one name at a time.

You drifted off in the glow of the television and the sound effects sank into your dreams. You were still in Birch but thick vines had grown around all the buildings and billowing leaves shrouded the skies. The town had turned to jungle and you could hear the growls and grunts of beasts unseen.

You spun as a twig snapped and a snake uncoiled from a branch and fell into the brush at your feet. You stepped back and it slithered towards you. You stumbled and ran away as you could hear its skin smoothly glide through the grass at your feet. You tripped as its long body wrapped around your ankles and you crashed to the ground.

You struggled as the snake constricted your body and wound its neck around to face you. Its green eyes shone as its black scales gleamed. Its tongue flicked against your cheek and you felt its hot breath as it opened its mouth and revealed long, frightening fangs. You screamed as its bite loomed and you woke with a start.

The visions of the wild jungle faded but the heat did not. You blinked as an amber haze took over the room and you fought through your messy blankets and tumbled onto the floor. Your curtains were alight along with much of the wall. You bachelor was blazing with orange flames and you could barely see the door through the smoke.

You coughed and scrambled to your feet. Your eyes streamed and you blindly ran for the door and flew down the stairs. The shop was almost entirely engulfed as you reached the lower landing and you fumbled with the front door as flames licked closer and closer.

You burst out into the frozen night and your feet were numbed by the ice and snow. You retreated from the burning building, your life set aflame, and turned back as you reached the sidewalk. Sirens screamed and made you wince as you crossed your arms and chattered against the cold.

“Pity,” the slither made your skin crawl, “though I suppose it is a blessing you at least saved yourself.”

You glanced at Loki as your vision blurred with the tears of realisation. Everything you had was turning to ash before you. You blinked away the droplet and sneered at him. He smirked and you knew. He smirked and he knew. It wasn’t an accident.

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lumelii · 3 years ago

Text

PANDA ~|~ NANAMI x FEM!READER

Summary: Nanami and Yuuji stop into the local bakery. Nanami finds something he wants that’s off the menu.

Content warning: fluff, little bit of pining, child-parent relations, singledad!Nanami

Note: thanks again to Moni for beta-reading 🥰

word count: 1.6k

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“Daddy! Look!”

It was a bakery they had passed multiple times on the way home, living just next door to it. It was small, tucked into one half of the ground floor of the low building it occupied, sharing a wall with a pharmacy. It served reasonably priced pastries and sandwiches, as well as some of the best coffee in Tokyo. Nanami usually took Yuuji there once or twice a month and let him pick what he wanted for breakfast.

The window display was almost always the same, Nanami would have missed the slight change as he tried to juggle the various bags they had accumulated from their early Saturday morning errands if his young son hadn’t pointed it out. He looked over to see the small bag of fruit he had asked Yuuji to carry on the sidewalk, a lone apple rolling away while his son stood on his tiptoes, his nose practically pressed to the glass.

Instead of the standard fare on the very top shelf, there was a row of buns in the shapes of various animals, with different fillings for each shape written neatly on cards next to each. Nanami had to admire the work, they were incredibly detailed.

“It’s a panda!” Yuuji looked back at Nanami and pointed at the aforementioned bun in the middle. “Can we get one?”

Nanami caught himself before denying Yuuji outright. He had been especially good today when they were running their errands, not complaining once as his father dragged him through town and entertaining himself in the various shops without getting into trouble. And they could go to the park later so Yuuji could run off his energy. A little sugar wouldn’t kill him.

“Sure. Go pick up your bag, though.” He pointed to the forgotten paper bag.

Yuuji quickly ran to pick up the bag (as well as the apple, adding it back to the bag before Nanami could tell him no), and grabbed his father’s hand to all but pull him into the bakery. It wasn’t as crowded as Nanami would have thought for a Saturday morning, something for which he was grateful. When there was a crowd, Yuuji liked to use people as obstacles and run around and through them as fast as he could. Only the obstacles moved, and he usually ended up on his butt more times than he would have liked.

They were able to go straight to an empty table to drop off their shopping before moving to the counter, and after a few seconds, one of the workers packaging cookies turned around, and Nanami’s breath caught in his throat.

It wasn’t like the bakery didn’t have pretty women working there-there were several, ones who would shamelessly flirt and try to butter up Yuuji as a means to get closer to his father, but Nanami didn’t indulge or even notice them. He was polite, got what he needed, then left. He never played into whatever fantasies the cashier of the month decided to dream up.

However, this time, it was hard to remind himself of that conviction when easily the prettiest worker he had ever seen there walked up to the register and smiled at him. Was she new? She had to be new, he’d never seen her before. He would have remembered seeing someone like you.

“Hi, welcome in.” You greeted and leaned against the counter. “What can I get for you?”

“Panda!” Yuuji yelled, his nose peeking over the top of the counter as he looked at you.

“Yuuji.” Nanami scolded and picked him up so he could actually see you. “Ask politely, son.”

Yuuji smiled at him then turned to smile at you. “Can I please have a panda bun please?”

You smiled and nodded. “Of course, sir.” You replied, making him giggle. Your smile widened and you finally looked at Nanami. “And for you?”

“I’ll just have a black coffee.” Nanami didn’t think he could focus on eating without choking if you were going to be walking around the bakery.

“Me too!”

“He’ll have a hot chocolate.”

“I want what you’re having.” Yuuji pouted. Nanami sighed and turned back to the counter.

“Make mine a hot chocolate too.”

You took his money and handed him a number for the table. “Give me just a second, I’ll bring everything to your table. Make yourself at home.”

Nanami nodded and lead Yuuji away from the big display case by the register back to their table, helping him out of his heavy winter coat when he was seated safely. He tried his best to listen to his son as he talked about a dog they had seen earlier today during their shopping trip, but he was finding it very hard to focus.

His eyes kept wandering back behind the counter, watching as you made their drinks and talked with the other workers, laughing along with them at a joke someone had said. He’d never felt this kind of attraction toward another person. It was irrational. He didn’t know you. Yet he still felt that draw.

There had been other women before Yuuji had come into his life, even a few dalliances on nights when Gojou would take him out and Toji would stay home to watch the kids, just to satisfy that primal need. There was even a girlfriend at one point. But Yuuji had declared he didn’t like her after several months, and that was enough for Nanami to end the relationship. There was no point in pursuing a woman who couldn’t to get along with his son.

So why was it now, after finding contentment in being alone for so long, that all he wanted to do was go up and ask you, a complete stranger, on a date?

“You boys are lucky.” Nanami looked up and saw you were now standing next to their table, placing their to-go cups in front of them as well as Yuuji’s panda bun. “This was the second to last one.”

“Do you normally sell out quickly on the animals?” He heard himself asking, like the back of his neck wasn’t on fire right now.

“We only just started making them this week, but for the most part, yes.” You straightened from setting the food down and hugged the tray to your chest. “The red bean panda usually sells first. I suppose people are more used to the flavor.”

“What’s your name?” Yuuji asked suddenly, taking a big bite out of the head of his panda.

“I’m Y/N.” You smiled at the young boy. “What’s yours?”

Thankfully, Yuuji took the time to actually swallow his food before speaking, which was uncharacteristic of him. “My name is Yuuji.” His son said proudly. “I’m five.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Yuuji.” Your eyes turned to Nanami expectantly. “And your name?”

“His name is Dad.” Yuuji told her before Nanami could reply. She laughed, and he thought he hadn’t heard anything quite so wonderful today.

“And is that your first or last name?”

“Our last name is Nanami.” Yuuji answered again, cutting off his father as he opened his mouth to speak. “We live in the building next door.”

“Really? So I do. I just moved in. We’re neighbors.”

“Can I come visit you?” Yuuji asked excitedly.

“Yuuji, let’s not take up any more of the lady’s time.” Nanami interjected, noticing another customer had walked in, but also slightly embarrassed at his son’s oversharing.

“You’re fine, don’t worry. We already had our big morning rush.” You leaned in closer so the young boy wouldn’t hear what you were saying. “I put a shot of espresso in your cup. It should help if you need the caffeine.”

Nanami merely stared back when you pulled back and smiled again. He didn’t know how to respond to this kindness from a total stranger. You didn’t even know him, yet you spoke and cared as if you had been acquainted for a lifetime.

“Y/N!” A voice from the kitchen yelled before Nanami could open his mouth to thank you properly. “We’re almost out of spritz cookies!”

“Coming!” You yelled back and bowed slightly to Nanami. “It was nice to meet you, Dad-san.”

You were gone before he could reply. “It’s Kento.” He murmured to himself. However, Yuuji heard him and fixed him with a frown.

“Your name is Dad.” Yuuji said resolutely.

“I had a name before you came along.”

“And now it’s Dad.”

They sat quietly finishing their drinks, Yuuji swinging his legs happily as he finished his bun and watched the people coming and going in the bakery with wide, curious eyes. Nanami tried hard not to stare at you behind the counter as you worked, but his eyes kept drifting your direction of their own volition. He’d never felt this kind of pull before. He had to be imagining it. He was being irrational.

His line of vision as he watched the door to the kitchen, waiting for you to come out again after disappearing several minutes ago, was blocked when another server came up and set a brown bag with the bakery’s logo on the table. Nanami immediately picked it up and tried to hand it back.

“We didn’t order this.” He told the teenage boy.

“They’re on the house,” was all the boy said before going back behind the counter.

Nanami looked behind the counter and saw you had appeared again, now watching them. When he caught your eye, you smiled widely and gave him a small thumbs up. Looking inside the bag, there was a pair of peanut butter chocolate chip cookies, along with the last panda bun. When he turned the bag to put it in with one of the larger shopping bags from their trip, the black ink of a marker caught his eye. Pulling the bag back out, he noticed the same neat handwriting from the display case.

‘Thanks for coming in, neighbor ^_^’

He was truly fucked.

tags: @oikawaandkuroostan (let me know if you want to get added to my tag list-either for this story or any of my writing!)

#growing pains #single dad!nanami #nanami x y/n #nanami kento #itadori yuuji #fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic #dadami

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sdv-mostly-shane · 3 years ago

Note

not sure if this has been asked or written before, but what a about a 'sort of cryptid like farmer' and shane? a farmer that's just a little bit more on the non human side kinda thing, if thats alright

A special Spooktember treat for you guys- I hope you enjoy. Been saving this one until it was appropriately close enough to spooky season. Also- TIL that goblincore is a quite delightful aesthetic-read til the end to get the full ✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:* vibes *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ they’re feral AND charming.

Just Goblin Things

Summary: There’s something sinister in Cindersnap Forest, and Shane is the one to come face to face with the creature. What he finds is a more than just a little magical, and he can’t wait to discover more.

Trigger warning : very brief, vague insinuations of alcohol; general spookyness.

“Seb, how many more until we can go back to my house?’

“Just a minute, Sam. I can hear one croaking just over there…“

“Yoba, what was that!-look, there in the bush!” A flash of green had caught Abigails eye, followed by a loud scrambling noise. She pushed herself off the ground, using Sam’s shoulder as a boost, and leaped toward the sound, searching for its maker.

“What kind of frog was that?”

“I didn’t even see anything. Probably just some raccoon or something.” They watched Abby crawl around a small thicket of bushes, peeking in between branches as she went. “Leave it alone, Abby, you don’t want to catch rabies.”

“Raccoons don’t have green eyes, Seb,” she said, as she perked her head up to listen to a faint crinkling of leaves. “Listen, do you hear that? It almost sounds like.. hissing?”

“What, like a snake?”

“No, like a-AH!” Abby shrieked, and fell back. The two boys ran towards her. “No, get back, it might see you!” She was referencing the massive pair of green speckled eyes that were now accompanied with a gnarly, toothy grimace emerging from the bush. From it, came an ungodly snarling and hissing.

“Alright, time to go,” Seb yanked the two teenagers away from the creature, and they started to run. Once they had made it inside Sam’s house, the trio slammed his bedroom door and jumped on the bed. They sat for a moment in silence, listening to each other’s panting breath. Abby began to say something, but Sebastian interrupted, “we’re not gonna talk about it. Just don’t-nothing happened. We didn’t see anything. Got it?” Abby huffed in frustration, and protested with him, arguing that they needed to get back out there and figure it out. All Sam could do was stare at his floor, stunned at what had just happened.

The next day, Sam went to start his shift at the Joja Mart on edge from the night before. Shane was working the freezer when he spotted him-he had picked up a packaged of individually sealed pancakes seven minutes ago and was still staring at it, unmoving. “Uh, you alright, bud?”

“I’ve never seen anything like it…” His voice seemed far away, but he managed to finally move, making to put away the product. He turned to him, “Shane, you live in Cindersnap Forest. Have you ever seen anything… weird… there?”

“You mean besides Mayor Lewis sneaking out the back window and crawling around the house, thinking I can’t see him?”

“What?”

“No, never seen anything.”

“Well we did, Abby, Seb, and I, last night.”

“And?”

“Well, nothing really actually happened-it just scared us, really. Made a really ugly sound and showed it’s teeth to us. It must have just been some animal… but the thing is… gah, I can’t even say it.”

Shane tossed a bag of multipurpose detergent at him, demanding, “C’mon, say it.”

“Ouch, Yoba, alright. I didn’t tell the others, but when we were running away, I looked back and.. and well, I saw it run away and it was on two legs like a person.”

“Hah, okay you got me. There’s nothing in that forest, kid, don’t think about it too much.” Shane slapped the back of Sam’s shoulder, bidding him to just do his work, and went about finishing the stocking. He’d look over, occasionally, to see the golden-haired teen zoned into space again, but he didn’t have the mental capacity to really care at that point; he just needed to get through his shift.

______________________________________________

Shane looked at his phone-11:26 PM. He’d gone out, not able to sleep, and forced himself to take a cold walk through the woods to avoid the saloon. Shivering, not just from the cold, he made his way over to the edge of the lake. He enjoyed watching the little sparkling fish swim, their silver scales glisten underneath the shallow water… Swishing and splashing and crashing-crashing? He flipped his body around to see the source of the crash-in front of the big tree, in a disheveled pile, sat the farmer. They were brushing the leaves out of their hair and dusting off their knees.

“What are you doing?”

“Oh! Goodness, Shane, you scared me.”

“You’re the one who fell out of the tree.”

The farmer finger-gunned, “You got me there,” and stood up, gathering the belongings that tumbled from their satchel.

Shane watched them, and smirked at seeing them covered in Earth matter-leaves, moss, dirt-it all seemed to have managed to stick to them as they tumbled down the tree. “You’re covered in dirt.”

“Oh, yeah I am.” The farmer brushed off their apron and body. Dirt, rocks, and leaves fell from their arms, but the moss stayed firmly attached.

Now with a clear view, Shane could see that their skin wasn’t quite right. It looked jaundiced from their shoulders down, where the color faded to a sickly vibrant green down to their finger tips. The moss had attached itself to their elbows and seemed to grow down to their fingertips. As the farmer moved about, their arms coming in and out of scattered streaks of moonlight, he could almost see it blinking at him. Was it growing on their arm? He blinked trying to make sense of it, “No, no I meant your arms have-“

“Oh, Hey Franklin.”

Shane’s jaw hung open on his words. Emerging from the Farmers.. arm moss?.. emerged a little frog. It opened and closed its mouth a few times before letting out a tiny ‘ribbit’.

“Yeah, I found this little guy a few weeks ago and he just didn’t want to leave. He likes to come with me on our nightly mushroom hunts.” Franklin went cross eyed as he focus on a little bug flittering past before catching it with a satisfying crunch. “Oh, that was a good one, Frankie.”

“Okay I’m gonna go now,” Shane regained control of his jaw, resolutely shoved his hands in his pockets, and started to turn away.

“Wait! You’re not gonna tell anyone my secret are you?”

“Tell them what, that you keep a secret frog hidden somewhere in your arm?”

“No, everyone should know about Franklin, he’s precious. I meant-you know what, can I just show you?” The farmer reached out their hand in an offer for Shane to grab.

He hesitated-he only barely knew the farmer, having really only seen them run past him at full speed with a pick axe held high above their head-but he was in desperate need of a distraction tonight.

The farmer, seeing his reservation, offered up, “come sit down with me, I’ll make us some tea.”

“I don’t drink tea.”

“Well I’ll tell you some of my other secrets?”

He was in too deep now, his curiosity overtaking his tentativeness, “Alright.” He accepted their hand; his fingertips flexed atop their hand, cushioned by the lush, damp covering of green.

Holding his hand, they led him to their crash-landing zone under the tree, where they sat down. As the farmer sat, legs tucked into each other, Shane thought he saw their body hesitate mid-air for half a second. He then was sure that he saw a little fairy ring of mushrooms pop out of the ground with a glimmering puff of orange dust as the farmers body finally made contact with the ground.

“Please, sit.” Shane pretended to not be concerned, but the farmer smiled to themselves as they spotted him cautiously glancing down to the ground as he gingerly lowered himself to sit. Satisfied, the farmer opened up their satchel and pulled out their trinkets for tea-two wooden cups, a shiny silver teapot with a mismatched spoon, and a box of vials and jars. Opening, smelling, taking, and closing the little jars, they began to make the tea. The beautiful earthy colors of the roots, grasses, and leaves peeled out over the edge of the cups. Craning their body, they reached over to the other circle of mushrooms where they crashed, and plucked a purple one.

As they filled the teacups, Shane watched in horror as the they grasped a moth straight out of the air, ripped a wing off, and shredded it into the two cups. He hoped to Yoba the ‘tea’ was done, but they pulled out one final vial. Swallowing, he asked, “Who’s hair is that?”

“Don’t worry about it.” The farmer pick up the teapot, cradling it in their palms. As the silver started to glow red hot, the farmers hair flew up, standing straight when the teapot began to steam. They poured the hot water into the cups.

“Okay, I get it, I know what this is.”

“What is?”

“I just had a few too many today, and I’m actually just super hammered right now and it’s making me see things. I’m gonna go to bed, now”

“But I didn’t see you at the saloon today?”

“Well, no, but if I think about it too much I’m gonna freak out a little bit,” he pushed his hands off to stand, “so I’m just gonna say that this isn’t real and-“

The farmer reached out their hand to him once more. He stood, frozen, as he watched twigs emerge from their fingertips, growing into branches, followed by leaves, and finishing with a delicate flower unfurling inches away from where he stood.

“It’s beautiful.”

“Take it.”

“Take it? But it’s.. attached.”

“Just take it,” the farmer smiled.

He picked it, cupping it in his palms, and brought it to his chest. He watched in awe as the flower petals began to sway, and tiny white fairies sprouted from the pollen. Transfixed, he stood holding his breath as the hazy creatures danced around the petals.

While he watched, eyes big and lit up, the farmer quietly pulled out from their satchel a little carved wooden chair. While Franklin hopped down and plopped onto the chair, the farmer plucked another tiny mushroom, removing the stalk, and tipped a mini-portion of tea from their cup into the cap. They handed it to Franklin who busied himself with dunking his head in and out of the tea and screaming into it.

Shane, remembering his need to breathe, finally gasped and attempted to sputter something intelligible out, but just as he thought of a semi-formed sentence, the dancing fairies suddenly burst into a frenzy of colorful fire. They continued their elaborate dance until the last of them fizzled out, and there was nothing left of the dancing flower except misty smoke and white ash.

“You can keep that-here, pour it into here,” they handed an empty vial to Shane, “sprinkle it on your doorstep and it’ll protect you and your loved ones.”

He did as he was told, not even questioning it at this point-he wanted to know more and how and why and what. Finished, he sat back down, facing the farmer, watching them lift the teacup to their lips. “So uh, does the tree thing happen a lot, or just at night, because I’ve seen you during the day and it doesn’t look like that.”

“No, you’re right, see the thing is, it’s when I- HHREEEEEEEEEK!”

Shane tumbled back in shock, catching himself with his elbows and hands. The farmer had let out an awful screech, showing their (formerly enchanting smile) now fanged row of gnarly teeth. In an instant, their eyes grew and melted into dinner plate-sized puddles of green. Shane yanked his head to match the direction of the farmers leer, where he saw a scruffy-looking opossum attempting to sneak their grubby hands around Franklin. The caught-and foiled-thief returned the farmers screech with a feral ‘hiss’ of its own, before it clambered back into dark bushes.

As quickly as the transformation happened, the farmer returned to normal just the same, meeting Shane’s stunned eyes with their own-now regular sized-smiling eyes. “Can’t be letting Franklin become someone’s snack, now can we?” They laughed and smiled to themselves, giving Franklin a little finger pat.

He was stunned, again. He blinked his way around the farmers face and body, searching for something that would make sense of his feelings. Was it repulsion? Fascination? Perhaps even a little attraction? The farmers little twinkling laugh would normally be very charming to him, but the circumstances of it were overwhelmingly frightening… if not still partially alluring. He settled his searching to focus on their smile-they offered it up so freely to him.

The farmer had waited for him to get settled back into a relaxed position before they continued, “Now what was it you were asking me, dear?”

“I was asking about your arms, that they normally aren’t literal trees,” he stoped, “dear?”

“Well, yeah. We’re friends now, aren’t we? Would you prefer me to call you something else?”

“… no, that’s fine.”

They sat together for a few moments in silence while the farmer drank their tea, and Shane gathered the courage to at least sip the leafy moth water. (It wasn’t good, but it wasn’t bad. He swished his tongue around his mouth to feel for any fuzzy winged remains, but couldn’t find any. It was smooth, and still hot. While he pondered, Franklin made a few flighty hops over to where his foot was resting, and jumped up onto his sneaker-he was trying to bite the laced up shoestrings.

He let out a little laugh-what a strange little animal. He looked up at the farmer and thought ‘what a strange little.. goblin.’ He let himself stare a bit-they didn’t seem to mind. They had taken off their hat by now, and revealed a pair of little pronged antlers that were hidden underneath. They were encrusted with clusters of crystals, which glittered with every turn and tilt of the farmers head. He continued to drink his tea, getting more accustomed to it with each sip, and watched the scattered moonlight refract off the crystals onto the ground. There, where the prismatic light met earth, a misting of teeny white flowers sprouted and bloomed. Shane had always been appreciative of the wonders of nature, but he had never seen it this beautiful. The farmer seemed connected to the earth, each breathing life into the other. It was humbling. And it-they-were beautiful.

The farmer finally caught his eye, and looked down, now a bit embarrassed. They didn’t mind the scrutiny-it wasn’t out of judgement, they knew, just curiosity. Truth be told, the feeling was more of self consciousness than anything. It was always daunting to show anyone their true selves, but to Shane? His gaze was so honest and searching that it was intimidating. Still feeling his eyes on them, the farmer briefly looked up through their lashes to give him a shy smile, and then turned their attention to the lake.

Shane broke the silence, “Any other goblins in their you wanna tell me about,” he motioned to the lake.

“Nah, that lake is occupied already.”

“Ah, I was just playing. Of course, it’s occupied with fish.”

The farmer was silent

He turned to them, only slightly panicky, “With fish right?”

“Mmhmm yeah fish, lots of fish.” They pursed their lips tight and took a nervous sip of their already empty tea.

Shane squinted to the water, studying it, and caught a glimpse of some bubbles rupturing on the distant surface. He scooted closer to the farmer.

With the shoulders pressed up against each other, the farmer reassured him, “Don’t worry, I got you,” and took hold of his hand.

Shane eased his body deeper against their shoulder with a sigh. He took a peek at the farmer’s face just in time to see an attractive blush warm their cheeks. He smiled, and rubbed his thumb over the tops of their knuckles. They sat together, watching the lake, while the moon rose higher in the sky.

“Did you call me a goblin?” The farmer broke the trance.

Shane let out a hearty laugh, “What other kind of magical creature sneaks around in the dark and scares neighborhood children?”

The farmer returned the laugh, and finger gunned once more, “you know what, you got me there again, Shane.” The pair filled the foggy air with the sound of their laughter, pushing their bodies still even closer together.

“If you don’t want your cover blown, you should probably stop doing that, you know, screeching at teenagers.”

“No, I don’t think I will,” the farmer said with a small growl and a wink.

It was Shane’s turn to blush, now. He looked down at their hands, still cupped together, and smiled. “What other magic secrets do you have?”

“ ✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:* Let me show you.*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ “

#stardew valley #sdv shane #stardew shane #farmer x shane #sdv fanfic #stardew valley fanfic #sdv au #goblin things #cryptid

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wangshuus · 4 years ago

Text

delicacy | diluc ragnvindr

pairing: yan!diluc ragnvindr/gn!reader

genre: psychological

cw: unhealthy relationship, mentions of forced marriage, ooc diluc (lol)

wc: 2.6k

summary: to diluc, you are a delicacy that he wishes to savour.

note: i’m sorry in advance my dear readers this is absolute dog water ajfhaiufhfui. this was just an experiment since i don’t think i’ve written a decent yandere ever and this kinda proves it but it’s ok i’ll get there one day. just take my ooc diluc. yes, i know i screwed up real bad on this one but let's just say i loosened a few screw for the sake of the plot,,,yeah,,,i’ll probably need to proof read this again too but its ok ahhhhh.

“It’s useless to keep tugging at those binds. You know they won’t come off unless I take them off myself. Now, be good and sit still.” You heard a familiar voice.

It was once a voice that you were delighted to hear but now the very mention of the owner sent a wave of striking cold upon your body, ironic considering who it was. You had no idea where you were, what day it was, or what time it was. You were completely clueless, being stuck in a dark room with nothing but a bed in which you’ve been bound by the headboard. The room was concerningly chilly, the air in the room being crisp, cold and suffocating. The figure in the room made their way to the edge of the bed next to sit next to you. You felt a gloved hand place itself upon your cheek. It was so warm you almost wanted to lean into it but you refused to find comfort in the touch of your detainer.

You were but a simple bartender, loyal to working at the famous Angel’s Share in Mondstadt. You previously resided in Springvale with your parents but moved to the city due to your job. Your family lived a happy little life, not drowning in riches but being comfortable enough to sustain a plausible living. In your head, you were so painfully boring; so here lies the question, how exactly did you get into this situation? Not even you knew the answer but one thing that you could make sense of in the whole ordeal was that the main that stood in front of you was mad.

Diluc Ragnvindr has many titles ranging from the renowned owner of the Dawn Winery to one of Mondstadt’s most esteemed bachelors. He claimed such a high and mighty reputation that no one would’ve guessed the devious intents hidden in the back of his head. Yes, you were a mere bartender that worked under him at his own tavern but ever since you were hired, he felt something stirring up within him. Now you see, Diluc wasn’t someone that you would find chasing after anyone in fact, he’s never chased after anyone at all until he met you. He was confused at first why he started feeling the way that he did when you were around, unfamiliar emotions began to bubble inside of him.

You were just so easy to talk to, so charming, so comforting, a breath of fresh air to him, truly. At first, he assumed it would be nothing but a short lived infatuation, expecting for his feeling to dissipate like a dying flame in a matter of time but this flame only burned bigger, brighter, and belligerent as the days passed. Diluc wasn’t exactly sure how his feelings came to be. Perhaps it was due to the loss, betrayal and tragedy that stained his past. Maybe it was his longing to be loved again, to hold someone close and never let go, or to have someone hold him and allow him to bask in the feeling of being lovingly embraced-- which was a feeling that became painfully foreign to him.

It had been so long since he found comfort in anything or anyone, becoming accustomed to being isolated, building up walls to keep everyone out and away. He had no one left to care for and presumably no one left to care for him, making the pyro wielder take on such an aloof personality. After his whole ordeal, he was never truly the same, so to see him look genuinely pleased by someone was such a shock to the public eye. Of course, you had come to enjoy Diluc’s presence as he stopped by the tavern fairly often to check up on the flow of business and you had the chance to talk to him during his visits. You had heard from others that the young man was awfully reserved and indifferent towards any subject matter but he was seemingly interested in any conversation between the two of you, even partaking in the act of idle-chit chat as a means to continue talking to you. Anything for you.

He was greatly enamoured by you; everything about you. He’s taken every second he could to observe you and your nature, falling in love with the little things about you from the way you brightened up the room with your cheerful demeanour, the way you gracefully made your way across the tavern during, the way your eyes twinkled when you were talking about him about something you loved--archons the way he wished for you to only look at him with those eyes full of an enthusiastic sparkle. He wanted that; and he wanted it all for himself. Once he realized this was the case, he went through a spiralling hole of madness. He found himself being obsessive with looking out for you, going above and beyond by following you in the shadows every chance he could get, his self control on his possessiveness running as thin as a strand of hair.

Diluc was scary to say the least. His ability to deceive people into thinking he was still the reserved yet distinguished gentleman while he was falling into a pit of insanity was nothing short of terrifying. He remained unsuspecting and planned to keep it that way, deeming himself capable of being able to resist his maniacal urges. All until one conversation between the two. You had mentioned that your family had begun to run into a few financial problems, becoming entangled in a circle of debt. You had concluded that though you loved what you were doing, it couldn’t have been enough to support your situation so you had conversed with Diluc about going to Liyue to find extra work. All you knew was that there was a high chance you couldn’t stay grounded at the tavern forever, even rejecting Diluc’s offer of a raise, deeming that you didn’t deserve it and did not wish to trouble him. You saw this as a good opportunity to explore beyond the land of the wind that you had ironically been grounded at your entire life.

Oh no no no, this couldn’t happen. He wouldn’t allow it to happen. And that’s when he snapped.

Diluc’s mind worked quickly as he devised a dubious plan to keep you grounded. He knew what you were like; he knew you would be stubborn and go. He saw that shine of determination in your eyes when you mentioned your plans of fleeing Mondstadt, the same shine that he wanted to capture and keep for himself and oh boy, he was gonna have it. The next time you saw him, he had personally invited you to a party that he said he was hosting. You found it quite surprising since it was a rarity for him to ever host a party considering his nature but you accepted nonetheless. You trusted Diluc enough and besides, who would deny an invitation from someone like him. Little did you know, this was quite possibly one of the worst decisions you’ve made in your entire life.

“Dear, you’re spacing out again.” He spoke, a foreign tone that sounded so sickly sweet to a point where you wanted to hurl.

“Please don’t address me as such. You’re twisted for doing this. What do you even want from me? Huh? I can’t offer you anything so this is nothing but a waste of time.” You spat at him, harshly pulling your cheek away from his grasp.

“Your presence alone is enough to satisfy me. Also, I’d appreciate it if you stopped acting disobedient before I really lose my patience. I’ve been so patient with you, do you know that? I’ve been waiting for ages to have you all to myself like this but…” He paused for a moment.

“I was far too nice and considerate of your freedom. To think I’d let you leave just like that is absurd. That’s exactly why you’re here. I’d like to apologize in advance for tricking you into thinking there was an actual party, especially since you got all dressed up for me tonight but I believe this is quite the positive thing because now I’m the only one that gets to see you like this” He said as he gently lifted up a piece of fabric from your clothing.

“You wore the clothing I had custom made for you. I knew you would look ravishing in it. You’re my pretty little doll, aren’t you dear?” He said as he brought a piece up to his lips as they gently graced the smooth satin of your outfit.

A strange package had made its way to your doorstep days before this treacherous evening. When opening it up, it was revealed to be a black and red outfit made of what felt like to be the finest fabrics and silk you’ve ever seen. The first time you tried it on, you felt ecstatic with being gifted to you, blushing to yourself over the fact that Diluc had gone out of his way to get you something this stunning. Now, you wanted nothing more than to rip the thing off your body and run away from the damned place you were held captive but you knew it was no use at this point. Your body shivered at the coldness of the room as it felt like the sheer cold was steadily increasing.

“You’re shivering. You’re cold aren’t you?” Diluc said, having the audacity to chuckle at your pathetic state. You stayed quiet, not wanting to admit or give into anything.

“No response? Oh well, it’ll only be a matter of time until the possibility of freezing to death becomes exceptionally high. I’d rather not have that happen so I’ll do you a favour since you happen to be a little shy isn’t that right? You don’t need to be shy with me. Come here.” He says as he draws closer to you. Your chains rattled while you attempted to put as much distance as you could between you two but it was no use. He swiftly wrapped his arms around you, one hand wrapped around your waist, the other at the back of your head, pulling you into the crook of his neck. Your hands pushed against his chest in a poor attempt to put as much distance between you and him but in the end, you couldn't bring yourself to. The coldness of the room significantly weakened you although it ceased when he held you, his body warmth being enough for him and yourself as well. You cursed the pyro wielder and his antics. He knew that you’d be freezing, seeing this as the perfect opportunity to get closer to you. Your arms fell back on to you sides

“There you go, all relaxed now. See, nice and warm.” He cooed while stroking the back of your head lovingly. Although you were physically warm now, you still felt a shiver run down your spine at the touch of the pyro user.

“You’re sensitive to touch, how cute.” He stated before pulling away to look you in the eyes, the edges of his lips slightly upturned.

“On another note, I have some news to share with you.” He spoke out. Your eyebrows furrowed at the mention of more news, thinking there is no possible way that anything could get any worse; unfortunately, you were dead wrong.

“You see, I had the chance to speak with your parents the other day in regards to your financial situation. I explained to them that I was more than willing to help them but they became quite stubborn after I introduced my offer. I see where you get your stubbornness from now.” He sighed.

Your eyes widened, fear, anger and concern mixing in your (e/c) orbs.

“Diluc, I swear to the archons what did you--.” He brought a finger up to your lips to hush you from your growing concern.

“Hush now, there’s no need to get riled up, I’m not finished. Now quiet down and listen to me.” He stated.

“It was quite a simple offer I gave them, really. I would be a financial aid all in exchange for your hand in marriage. They started to get all defensive, claiming that they’d never marry off their child. They were oh so protective over you, but they could never come close to comparing to me.”

Dread and horror filled your eyes as you were rendered speechless, waves of unpleasant emotions washing over you like a tidal wave.

“You see, it definitely took a lot of work to get where we are now, but you need not to worry, dear. They will not be of any concern to us anymore.” He said as a smile graced his features. You would’ve considered him to be handsome in the moment but the smile he held was so deranged that it was appalling.

Tears welled up in your eyes, too afraid to even ask what happened to them or what became of them. You knew the situation; you knew the power that Diluc held. He was well aware of his looming power of you and he used it and abused it. It didn’t take very long for your tears to start streaming from your eyes as you began to sob, tears spilling onto your lap. Diluc cupped your face as he brushed away the oncoming tears that continued to overflow.

“Shhh, don’t cry my dear, this news is excellent. I couldn't even fathom you getting hurt or even leaving me but I don’t have to worry now do I? Because you’re going to be all mine.” He said before forcibly kissing your tear-stained cheeks.

You felt absolutely disgusting and embarrassed over the lips that graced your skin, having someone as unhinged and deranged as him seeing you in such a vulnerable and helpless state.

“You know, I’ve had my fair share of people both leave and betray me.They’ve left me alone in this world but none of it matters now that I have you here. You’re the most divine person I’ve come across. So lovely, so warm, and so bright, like the rays of sunlight. I want to bask in your presence and now, I can for however long I’d like. I refuse to lose anyone else, especially not you and now this time, I know I won’t. If your freedom has to be sacrificed in order for you to stay alive, so be it. I’ll choose you the finest white attire for our special day. You’ll be me precious darling for the rest of your days. Doesn’t that sound lovely, dear?” You remained unresponsive.

One of his hands slipped past the fabric of your clothing as his gloved fingertips lightly pressed onto the bare small of your back, earning a yelp from you.

“I said doesn’t that sound lovely? Respond when spoken to. I want to hear your voice.” He said sternly. You managed to mumble out a small yes in return.

“That’s my good little darling.” He spoke before before he pulled you in for a kiss. You refused to return the action and it certainly didn’t go over his head. The hand that rested on the small of your back began to get hotter, feeling as if it was searing your skin, earning a shriek and a cry from you, allowing him to deepen his passion filled kiss, smirking at the way you’ve decided to submit yourself to him while his own lips remained locked with your own.

The land of Mondstadt was said to be the land of freedom and yet here you were, your fate bound and chained by the insanity disguised as love by Diluc Ragnvindr. You were a delicacy to him, and he’d be sure to savour every last bit of you.

#genshin impact fanfiction #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact reader insert #fanfiction #fanfic #genshin impact diluc #diluc x reader #diluc ragnvindr #delicacy

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the-darklings · 3 years ago

Text

╱ i only love it when you touch me, not feel me.

pairing: jean & clara verse: npfh word count: 3.1k+ warnings: nsft, bathroom/mirror sex (because that's who they are as people), rough sex (but they're both so into it I'm not sure it even counts), cockwarming. notes: so this was written all the way back in January but it's the first piece of what I considered to be the real beginning of their dynamic (which I've expanded upon in ASE) despite writing them a lot prior to this point. it's also the first time I ever tried to write from jean's pov so enjoy. this is not super explicit and more character exploration because apparently smut is good for those. as always, any feedback is loved and appreciated 🌿 ✨

He’s never cared much for his name.

Or, more accurately, never cared what sentiment it was spoken with. He’s heard his name being called lovingly, with hatred, suspicion, fear, and hatred alike. Moaned desperately and worshipped—latter he’s always preferred the most.

“I'm not going to touch you unless you beg.”

Clara, however, has an infuriatingly persistent ability to make him crave his own name. From her mouth specifically.

Jean could fuck her until she’s barely coherent and it still won’t be enough. This woman fights and fights, and doesn’t give him an inch of ground. All liquid flame and viciousness, and he can’t help but wonder where the hell she’s been hiding all this time.

With Camorra, a sly voice reminds him, Giovanni De Stefano’s deadly little matchstick. So good at death.

She is. She's a master at death and maybe that’s what makes this so fun, so good, and addictive. Why he irritatingly finds his blood burning whenever he sees her. Why he looks forward to every occasion their bodies touch. Whenever those dark eyes fixate on him and pin him in place, a monster deep down stirs, purrs at her presence. His desire is a monster with its own life, its own insatiable appetite for her.

Jean prefers when she pins him with her lithe body—eyes flashing and teeth bared, a powerful but dangerous package of hunger.

He had expected her to be meek. Broken. Especially after Tokyo. She’s proven to be anything but. Even at her worst, she’s still a sharpened blade. A danger, a promise of destruction. Damaged, certainly, but unbroken and unyielding. The more he learns about Tokyo the more his head rings with but one downright greedy thought.

The Viper hasn’t taken another lover since then. No one has touched her or tasted her since her rebirth. No one has fucked her, brought her to the edge, made her moan and shudder. Given her an escape and a release. Satisfied her.

No one knows the scrunch of her nose or the way her lips part softly. A whisper of air slipping free with every slow, lingering kiss against her throat.

Expect him.

His hips stutter at that thought. It always makes him feel good. To know that he alone has claimed some tiny part of her. Jean knows full well it’s only because she allowed him to claim it but that’s its own kind of buzz. He likes how she burns. How she yields only when she wants to. Liquid flame melting into his body like she was made to fit in his arms.

It’s sex at the end of the day. It doesn’t have to or even need to have meaning—he would know—but she makes it mean something. Emotions aside, she challenges him with such acute precision, he can’t help but come and meet her in the middle; an unending battle of wills. For all the dullness and predictability of their world, she’s a tempest, utterly untamed.

“And would you prefer if I begged?” he whispers against the shell of her ear, watching their reflection—the way they fit, the way she leans into him, trust, trust, trust, that he won’t let her fall, and they exist in these tiny victories. “Mmh? Ma vipére.”

He hums with a wolfish grin, his words throaty, pressing another greedy kiss against the back of her neck, then side, his lips dragging over her soft skin. “For you, I might,” he adds slyly, meeting her stare in the bathroom mirror again.

He might be losing, but she's losing quicker.

Clara doesn’t answer right away—a clever, careful thing that she is, his viper—and they watch each other for a moment, his pace slowing.

The bathroom door is closed, secured with one of her blades, they don’t need to rush but Jean wants to. He can savour her later, in their bed, where she’s his and his alone, where he can do everything to her. If only because he knows she’s no better. Because any scrap of pleasure she will return with an intensity that will leave him bloody.

She has in the past. His back is a colourful tale of her ravenous hunger. The Viper likes to mark him. It likely pleases her, to know she has her venom in his system in the form of her sultry whispers, kisses and moans. Blazing eyes and coil of her limbs around his.

Clara’s stare is, as usual, burning—an almost physical thing. Even like this, with him so deep inside her—and fuck if she isn’t hot, and slick, and welcoming in ways he quite remember fitting with others, and there've been plenty—she doesn’t lose her proud edge. She enjoys it, getting under his skin. Pushing him. Melting the ice, she once murmured with her mouth pressed against the taut skin of his lower stomach and sinking ever lower. Testing his self-control with her mouth wrapped around him, and her tongue searing and wet; a viper delighting in her poison spreading so effectively.

It does say something about his self-control because, despite the temptation, he doesn’t simply fuck into her until they’re both lost in pleasure so deep they can’t get out of it.

The skin of her chest is flushed, her swollen lips parted, her expression slacker with pleasure but she still stares him down.

His fingers sink into the cut of her hip, pushing her harder against the cold marble of the bathroom sinks, rolling his own hips, and it makes her shudder in his hold. So Jean presses another hungry kiss to her pulse, lets his teeth scrape against it, sucking on it. Prodding at the weak spot masterfully. He can be mean, too. She likes it when he is. Just as much as he likes it when she lets those sharper edges of hers out.

Her strong legs hold her upright but she clenches around him in reply and fuck, fuck, fuck, what is it about her?

All he wants to do is bend her over this fucking counter and fuck her until she’s screaming his name. Not that it would do him much good. Clara is as likely to let him do it as she is to graze her blade across his throat for trying. He would be lying if he said the thought of that fight doesn’t thrill him, makes him want to try it anyway. He’s only managed to get a drop on her like this a few times. Sink himself into her from behind so deeply she hadn’t been able to shake him off till she was sated and panting with pleasure.

Then, of course, the viper had tightened her grip on him in return, paying him back in kind with her bite and her venom.

The bite he enjoys a little too much. The venom is becoming… a concern.

He’s worked for years to remove any ties, any weaknesses, from his life. No one can ever have anything on him. He’s the one with the web, he’s the one who controls others. Sly implication and whispers and they’re oh, so destructive but she…

Jean snaps himself inside her, pulsing and so hard he has to grit his teeth. Clara’s hand seeks purchase desperately, her fingers snapping behind herself. Breathing deeply, she lets her nails sink into the back of his neck—firm, near painful—and he hisses through his teeth, pulling away from the hollow of her neck.

“You would like it, won’t you?” he gasps into her ear, and her nails sink deeper, so he fucks her harder. His hips are merciless against the soft skin of her thighs. Yet Clara stands unmoving, near silently goading him with her resilience and coyness. She’s so fucking wet. He’ll need a cigarette after this, or three. “On my hands and knees, non? Vicious vipère. Give in first.”

“No.”

He almost laughs at that. At the caustic hiss of her voice. Of course, she won’t. It’s why even though he’s gotten her, it makes him wonder if he truly has. If he ever will.

The more he has her, the more he wants her. And it’s a dangerous thing. To want, to crave, to hoard her the way he does.

“Then I’ll just fuck you harder, chérie.”

He wraps around her tighter, nibbling on the shell of her ear, dragging his other hand between her thighs. He feels the muscle there, the strength, he likes those legs around his waist and head too. Usually when her taste is hot on his tongue and she’s a squirming, hateful mess above him, tearing at his hair as hard as she can while she grinds onto his face.

He sucks on the curve of her neck at the memory, nibbling, wanting nothing more than to mark her with his teeth as she marked him this morning. Crinkled eyes and a content smile when she curled around him after. A predator satisfied with her hunt.

She’s addictive.

Usually, it’s the other way around. Maybe still is. But he can’t let it go much further than this. A carnal need and nothing more than that.

If he knew about this, about her…

Jean doesn’t allow the thought conclusion.

She’s nothing, he repeats to himself with every push and every strangled exhale, just a means to an end.

She never once looks away.

Clara gazes at them, takes in the way he moves in her, her eyes hooded and intent. Daring him. Even after she confessed to him how that man used to watch her. How it made her abhor every touch, despise being watched. She watches him—them, joined, with his fingers hard against her clit, drawing more of those little gasps of pleasure that sound like music to him—and he can’t help but stare too.

He should take advantage of the weakness, prod it and scrub at it until he can bend her to his will, but he loves her fire too much. Covets it like a man starved—and they both are, aren’t they—starved for more. Each other.

He wants her. For more than just a quick fuck. More than just a means by which he can bury his problems. Just more, more, more. And it sickens him, but it also makes him feel strangely relieved as well, that realisation. The acceptance of it. He would never admit it to anyone but himself but he does. It forces him to feel raw, unbalanced. He hasn’t felt like this in years. He hates it but it also makes him feel high, alive.

In revenge, he sucks on the smooth skin again, lets his teeth bite and nibble, releasing her hip and burying his fingers in her pulled-back hair. Chestnut strands loosen in his iron grasp and he only does it because he knows for a fact she doesn’t have any sharp pointy metal hidden up there. He watched her get ready. Her graceful, supple body was an open invitation for him. A sight to admire, and he did. He worshipped her with his attention, letting her know without a word how every curve and every freckle of hers sang to him. Beguiled him further.

He pulls on Clara’s hair, forcing her chin upwards, at an angle, and she still defies him. Still glares and brims with power.

A strangled pant escapes her at the change of angle, in how he slams back into her, her nails slicing into his neck. Jean hopes she draws blood even if he would have to get creative about explanations later.

“Jean.”

It’s a breathy, bewitching thing—snaring him, pulling him deeper into her, and he audibly gasps a breath, feeling even more starved. Now he wishes to claim a litany of those tiny, appreciative exhales of his name. He feels the muscles in his lower stomach grow tauter with every thrust, with every taste of her skin, and the sounds of their shared pleasure.

They penetrate the air, echoing off the walls, and they are as animalistic and as intensive as the pleasure they create.

“What?” he groans appreciatively, their eyes still locked, and heat between them sweltering. She drives him insane. He’s removed emotional attachments from himself years ago—didn’t even realise he’s still capable of them—but nothing about her, them, makes sense. She’s the one thing he can’t predict or control. “What do you want? Tell me.”

Drive me to the edge, he wants to goad her, tugging on her hair again, and he manages to dislodge a moan from the back of her throat, push me, claim what you want.

“You,” she whispers in teeth-clenched defeat but to him, it’s a symphony. This time, he won. He knows she’ll get him back. Twice as badly most likely. But saints above, did he win? She’s so open and warm, the scent of jasmines and earth mixing with his cologne and musk of sex, and he pushes into her deeper till they’re completely pressed into each other. Moulded into one being. “You.”

He feels every tense muscle in her body, and his fingers slip from her hair, curving around her throat instead, and a flutter of a smile appears, coy and knowing.

Fuck.

The things this woman does to him.

He speeds the already merciless pace until she’s a shivering mess inside his embrace, clinging out of sheer stubbornness alone. Deeper, deeper, deeper—a cruel part of him is set on planting himself inside her very marrows, so she will never be able to feel or know another lover. Not even the Italian, a voice deep down snarls. It’s so wholly and truly selfish yet he craves it. If he is to lose this game between them, he will make her lose first. Make this need between them mutual until neither of them knows where one ends and the other begins.

Jean can’t look away from her, certainly not when pushes and pushes, not when he feels her throat bob under his hand as she swallows. Wanting and needing and trusting his touch. He feels her quivering, her muscles tightening, whispering to him that—

Her orgasm washes over her like a tidal wave—slow but so intense that for the first time, he feels Clara’s legs tremble. His hold on her constricts, steadying her, and his viper withers in his embrace, a beautiful undoing. He lets her ride her orgasm out, watching her mouth, her fluttering lashes, the bead of sweat clinging between the dip of her breasts.

It's then—watching her, memorising how she looks like this; relaxed and glowing—that his own orgasm finally overpowers him. For a moment, Jean finds himself robbed of sight because she washes everything away. He spills himself inside her, letting her feel his pleasure this time. He moans for her, splinters for her, lets the world fade away just for a moment.

This is his gift, he wants to tell her then, the fact that when it’s them, it’s just them alone. There’s nothing else outside of her and he’s never allowed another this close, not since…

But he can’t adequately put that into words for her, nor does he want to. She can’t know. He hopes there will never be a day when he has to explain everything to her.

If she knew him—saw all the festering darkness like a rotting carcass out in the open—she would hate him. It would be better if she did. Maybe her hatred would make it easier to let her go.

He can’t think of that right now.

Instead Jean sinks his teeth into the slim arch of her throat, savouring the appreciative gasp she releases, dragging her nails down the side of his neck. He promised her this morning he will return the favour sooner rather than later after all.

He laps at the bite with his tongue—heat, sweat, and remnants of her soap tingling his tongue—and looks up from beneath his lashes. Her eyes appear black with pleasure. He can barely see blue in his own.

Two monsters, a thought comes then, unbidden. It’s as pleasant as it is seductive. Mainly because he knows he’s right. Cut from the same cloth, sewn into being by similar hardships, and capable of such awful things.

He’s still semi-hard inside of her but his grip on her throat loosens—and the thought she trusts him enough to let him touch her like this is thrilling enough—his palm journeying downwards. Clara sighs quietly when his palm settles against her lower stomach, and he pushes gently, savouring the breathless gasp that follows. He has to choke one back himself. She feels like heaven. Or hell. A mix of both. Still, he keeps pressing, letting the pressure sit there, feeling himself twitching inside her. Them, joined together at the seams, and the heat between them overbearing. They could go again but he doesn’t want to move just yet. It feels good to be inside her like this; a promise of more gratification sitting snugly between them.

His nose drags up the length of her neck, and he buries his face in Clara’s hair, inhaling deeply. She’s wearing his favourite perfume tonight. Something warm and deep with jasmines blooming in his lungs. If it were her, she would go on a whole monologue, breaking each chemical ingredient down and every scent used in creating it.

He likes her distracted, mind-boggling dialogues. Then nearly scoffs at the mere thought. Since when? Since when does he give a shit about something like that? It serves no purpose to him and he doesn’t waste time on things that don’t.

Because it’s her, comes the sinking realization, because she says these things, so they matter.

Merde.

He tenses when her hand settles on top of his, pushing once, harder. Another soft sigh leaves her while Jean doesn’t bother biting back his groan of appreciation at the flare of fierce hot pleasure.

Clara’s mesmeric expression arrests something inside of him when he spots it. For a second, his vision blurs and the black dress drips into white, and she wears that same peaceful expression as she sinks into a river and doesn’t resurface. A dream that haunts him near-nightly now.

He blinks and then he’s back in the bathroom, his arms still around her. She’s here, with him, and his grip constricts further. He can make it work. He’ll find a way.

When has he ever compromised?

She means nothing, he tries to convince himself once again now that he’s back from his high.

But as he peers her—tiniest of smiles on her face, her freckles a roadmap for him to re-examine, loose strands of dark hair framing her flushed cheeks—a voice scratches itself from deep inside his chest.

A voice he hasn't heard in years, not since he called somewhere earthier and greener his home.

Liar.

an: head empty, just them. I could go on about them for five calendar months but hope you all enjoyed this little peek inside his head. ASE does contain Jean's pov so you'll def be seeing/learning more about him outside of just smut dfjhgdfg

#original writing #original prose #spilled prose #oc x oc #oc writing #writing #s: almost love #c: jean #c: clara #nsft

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jamespotterthefirst · 3 years ago

Note

Lovely Bree, how are you doing? Firstly thank you so much for the amazing questions that you sent me for E & P. I loved answering them❤ Sending you a few questions about Ethan and Lilac which you have to answer as them💕

For Both:

1. Imagine you both are rival Detectives assigned to a common case. Who will be the one to solve it first? Or will you both join hands and solve it together?

2. What is the funniest thing your partner has done when they were drunk?

3. Favourite ice cream flavor of your partner?

4. What is a funny habit of your partner that you secretly like?

5. Have you ever done something only and only to annoy your partner?

6. How does your partner react when they are jealous?

For Lilac:

1. If you had to say I love you to Ethan without actually saying the words, how would you do it?

2. What is something that would make Ethan blush immediately?

3. If you were given an option to choose between writing a letter to Ethan once every month or writing him small notes everyday, which one would you choose?

4. What is the sweetest gift he has ever given you?

5. If you had to assign your relationship a fanfiction trope, which one would you choose?

For Ethan:

1. What is something that you started doing after getting into a relationship with Lilac?

2. If you could pick any three places to take her on a date, which ones would you choose? (They can anywhere around the world)

3. You have been asked to put together a care package for Lilac. What things do you put in it?

4. Which hobbies/interests of Lilac do you find weird?

5. If you had to put together a bouquet for Lilac usig any two flowers, which ones would you choose?

Thank you so much for these! I am so happy you liked the Ethan x Pooja ones. And it means so much that you UNO reverse card-ed me! LOVE YOU!

For Both:

1. Imagine you both are rival Detectives assigned to a common case. Who will be the one to solve it first? Or will you both join hands and solve it together?

Lilac: *giddy with excitement*

Ethan: Here we go...

Lilac: First, rival detectives? That would be so hot. Ethan would secretly be in love with me, no doubt about it. He'd walk around his precinct, in a foul mood after a run-in with that insolent Detective Allende. He'd go on rants through gritted teeth about how she thinks she's above procedure and how she fancies herself a rebel--

Ethan: You're having way too much fun with this.

Lilac: --but really he'd be frustrated that he couldn't press me against a wall and kiss me senseless.

Ethan: *doesn't deny it* You're forgetting the original question, love.

Lilac: I'm setting the stage, babe. You being madly in love with me is important to the plot. Okay, so regarding the case... Even though we would each make impressive headway by ourselves, we are each missing a piece the other has. For example, I'd be pretty good about examining the timeline and interviewing suspects and any person of interest.

Ethan: Then, with the information she secures, I would be relentless about acquiring hard evidence that could really lead to a conviction. We would make a stellar team.

Lilac: Once you focused on the case and not on my lips.

Ethan: *with a ghost of a smile* An impossible feat but one I have years of experience trying to achieve.

2. What is the funniest thing your partner has done when they were drunk?

Ethan: My alcohol tolerance is excellent. I don't get drunk.

Lilac: Yes, he does. He might not be a loud, emotional drunk like I am, but his cheeks get flushed the cutest shade of red and his eyes sparkle in the sexiest way. He gets into this highly intellectual and argumentative state of mind, challenging anyone who is nearby to a philosophical debate. The funniest thing he's done while drunk is lecture my friends and I about why do we, as humans, strive for perfection if it is not attainable. It was hot.

Ethan: It was necessary.

Lilac: None of my friends were up for the challenge. It’s difficult to initiate an intellectual debate with Cardi B playing in the background and with tequila shots flowing freely amongst the group.

Ethan: Speaking of non-stop tequila shots, the funniest thing Lilac has done while intoxicated is text me incessantly, telling me how much she missed me and how badly she wished I was next to her.

Lilac: That’s more sweet than it is funny, babe.

Ethan: I was right next to you. I was the one holding you up for balance.

3. Favourite ice cream flavor of your partner?

Lilac: My husband doesn’t care much for your run-of-the-mill ice cream pint. His favorite flavor is mascarpone with wild berries gelato. He also loves Affogato. Naturally.

Ethan: Lilac loves most flavors, especially anything with dark chocolate. But even more than ice cream, she loves--

Lilac: Fro-yo

Ethan: -- frozen yogurt. Plain tart with strawberries, blueberries, and granola.

4. What is a funny habit of your partner that you secretly like?

Ethan: I love the scented candles she’s so fond of having around the house.

Lilac: I knew it! My favorite funny habit of his is when he tucks Jenner in at night. He pretends that dog isn’t our fur baby, but Ethan plays the perfect father every day.

Ethan: He’s a pet, Lilac, not a child.

Lilac: He’s a baby and the being you professed to love most in the world.

Ethan: *holding her gaze* Not anymore.

5. Have you ever done something only and only to annoy your partner?

Lilac: Yes! I asked him to take me to Rome for our honeymoon only so I could order an Espresso Romano.

Ethan: Exactly what I asked you not to do.

Lilac: You mean what you were rambling about during our first date? Because I’m counting that.

Ethan: Fine. I was far too distracted by the beautiful doctor in front of me. It just slipped out. I never imagined I’d be marrying you one day and taking you on a honeymoon to Rome.

Lilac: But I bet if you knew that much then, you wouldn’t have minded.

Ethan: No, I wouldn’t have.

6. How does your partner react when they are jealous?

Lilac: He clenches that magnificent jaw of his and speaks in growls.

Ethan: *shaking his head* She stays really quiet and I can practically see the gears turning in her head. Then, minutes later, she’ll start asking me “causal” questions about the person she’s jealous of.

Lilac: I have to gather as much intel as possible about this rival of mine.

Ethan: *lifting her hand to kiss her knuckles* There’s no such rivalry, love. No one will ever capture my attention like you have.

For Lilac:

1. If you had to say I love you to Ethan without actually saying the words, how would you do it?

Lilac: I would hold his gaze as I press my body close to his, raising myself on my tip toes to press a single kiss on his cheek. I’d trace the pad of my thumb along his cheekbone, my other hand at his chest. I do it everyday... Everyday since the attack, when we couldn’t touch each other without plastic in the way. It’s my quiet way of telling him how much I love him and how I’m not going anywhere.

2. What is something that would make Ethan blush immediately?

Lilac: *laughs* It’s so easy to make him blush for someone so stoic. A sure way is to lean in and whisper anything romantic in his ear. It can be anything really and he’ll turn beet red. It’s so endearing. He will get this little surprised look on his face, as though he can’t believe what’s happening.

Ethan: That’s because I can’t. I am unable to believe my luck that the most beautiful woman on Earth loves me as much as I love her.

*Lilac blushes. Ethan looks satisfied and completely in awe of her.*

3. If you were given an option to choose between writing a letter to Ethan once every month or writing him small notes everyday, which one would you choose?

Lilac: The notes, for sure! In fact, I already write him those almost every morning and ever evening. He even bought a magnetic whiteboard for the refrigerator for me to write those. He insists on taking a picture of them before we erase them.

4. What is the sweetest gift he has ever given you?

Lilac: He flew my whole family from LA, including my grandma, to celebrate my last birthday in Cape Cod. It was the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me.

5. If you had to assign your relationship a fanfiction trope, which one would you choose?

Ethan: What the hell is fanfiction?

Lilac: It’s exactly what it sounds like, babe. It’s pieces of fiction written about fans of a work. For example, people who love Harry Potter will then go and write their own works with these characters.

Ethan: People do that?

Lilac: Hey, don’t knock it! Some people are so talented and put out excellent works. I used to read HP fanfiction when I was in high school and undergrad.

Ethan: I’m not judging at all. On the contrary, I’m surprised people do this for free. I admire the dedication.

Lilac: Our trope would absolutely be slow burn.

Ethan: ...?

Lilac: It means it took us entirely too long to end up together.

Ethan: Ah. In that case, I agree.

For Ethan:

1. What is something that you started doing after getting into a relationship with Lilac?

Ethan: Homemade salsa. My wife is very particular about it and will eat most meals with it. She will not accept anything less than homemade and I love her for it.

2. If you could pick any three places to take her on a date, which ones would you choose? (They can anywhere around the world)

Ethan: She doesn’t know this but, I am taking her to France for the final part of our honeymoon. Our schedules didn’t allow for the extended honeymoon we both wanted, so we split it up into parts. She still thinks it was only two parts, Rome and the Mayan Riviera, but I’m taking her to France next month. She’s always wanted to go to Paris, the countryside, and the French Riviera.

3. You have been asked to put together a care package for Lilac. What things do you put in it?

Ethan: She told me about the candy her grandmother used to bring her from Mexico. Those would go in there. I’d add essential oils, since she’s fond of those. I’d add her favorite scented lotions and those fuzzy socks she collects.

4. Which hobbies/interests of Lilac do you find weird?

Ethan: I don’t understand her complicated orders for iced coffee when we go to a coffeeshop. She will give the poor barista a long list of flavors she wants, describe in number of “pumps”. It’s iced coffee! There’s no amount of flavoring that could salvage that atrocity.

5. If you had to put together a bouquet for Lilac using any two flowers, which ones would you choose?

Ethan: *smiles briefly* I would consider lilacs to tease her. She pretends to hate them because they’re her namesake and people have always assumed she likes them solely for that reason. Now, she likes them because she knows I am fond of them. They remind me of her for obvious reasons but also because they are the earliest flowers to bloom in Spring. They represent renewal, hope for something better to come, and first love. I found all of those things in Lilac.

But since this bouquet is for her, I would use peonies and sunflowers since they are her favorites. Maybe jasmines since it’s her favorite scent.

#ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #Ethan x Lilac #Lilac Allende #Long post #newlyweds game with your host bree

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backtobackbakubabe · 3 years ago

Text

Speak Easy Part 4

Bakugo x Reader, Dabi x Reader

Words : 5206

Masterlist

Reader has a siren quirk and has spent the past several years of her life as a captive being experimented on by “heroes” Now that she’s out she needs protection and safe place to heal. Who will be the one to put her pieces back together?

Words with ‘this’ is dialogue written in her journal rather than said out loud and and words with ~this~ is dialogue said in sign language rather than out loud.

************************************************************************

Dabi’s frustration only grew when he saw your excited expression. All the sudden all he could think of was the was the way that Bakubrat had kissed the top of your head the last time he had seen you.

Dabi readjusted you so you were on his back and put his hands firmly on your thighs. He’ll admit he’s being ridiculous, but he wanted to keep you out of reach from the explosive idiot.

You were practically buzzing with excitement. You had missed your friends. Even though you had seen them a few weeks ago, it wasn’t nearly good enough, you felt like you didn’t have enough time to actually thank them for saving you. You had known all of them from high school except you had known Katsuki and Izuku much longer. You all had known each other since you were kids. Katsuki was always the one pulling your pigtails while Izuku was always the one to let you paint his fingernails.

That mentality pretty much stayed the same as you all got older. Katsuki would still relentlessly tease you but he was always much meaner to any of the guys who hit on you. There was a rumor that went around that your quirk made you super good in bed and it had every guy chasing after you for the wrong reasons. He never hesitated to hit first and ask questions later when men cat called you in his presence.

Katsuki had always had a very special place in your heart. He had always been your protector as well as your biggest supporter. There were so many times he and Izuku had talked you out of quitting school. Every so often an article would circulate about how villainous your quirk was and how you deserved to be locked up. The pressure would eventually get to you and you would end up in one of their rooms pacing and holding back tears. They helped you learn to love your quirk, but Katsuki was the one who secretly worked with you on weekends to help you get stronger. He thought if he showed you that you were more than just your quirk you would finally stop listening to all the fucking gossip blogs.

You kept bouncing with excitement the entire time Dabi walked towards the front door. He paused a few steps away and gave your thigh a sharp slap. “Hey, quit that. If you keep bouncing like that, I’m going to drop you. Behave.”

You wondered what crawled up his ass. He was just praising you a few minutes ago and now he’s grumpy. There’s no way he could be that mad about Katsuki coming to visit. He knew this was going to happen. He was holding you when Katsuki promised as much. You understood that he didn’t really get along with most people, and Katsuki was honestly kind of hard to get along with in the first place. But that still didn’t give him the right to be so pissed about him being here.

Dabi opened the door but remained in the doorway, effectively blocking Katsuki from entering. “Can we help you?”

Katsuki had a duffle bag on his shoulder as well as a box at his feet. “You could start by letting me in asshole.” He looked at you and his scowl softened just slightly, “Hey dork. Think you could convince your chauffeur to get out of the way?”

You giggled and gave Dabi’s neck a pinch. Dabi responded by giving your thigh a pinch, “Eye for an eye brat. You want me to let him in? I think I deserve an entrance fee?” He pointed towards his cheek as if he was asking for a kiss.

Katsuki’s eyes traveled from where Dabi’s hand was firmly squeezing your thigh to where he was pointing at his cheek. They were furious. He was about to just shove his was through when you wrapped your arms tight around Dabi’s neck and leaned backwards. Effectively throwing his body weight off and giving Katsuki more than enough room to enter the house.

He quickly let himself in and made his way over to the couch where he dumped the box he was holding. “Alright so here’s your first care package.”

“Don’t see why it needed to hand delivered…” Dabi dropped you on the couch next to the box so you could rummage through it.

Katsuki quickly took the empty spot next to you, totally ignoring Dabi. “I brought you a couple new manga that I know you’ll like, and I think Deku added a bunch of pictures and shit from your old apartment.” He reached over you into the box and pulled out a shirt and you grinned ear to ear. It was an old All Might shirt that you had stolen from Katsuki years ago because you liked how soft it was.

He smiled and put his arm around you, “I thought you might like that. I hope you don’t mind I’ve been wearing it in your absence. So, it might smell like me.”

Dabi walked by grabbing Katsuki’s arm and casually flung it off your shoulder. Then without a word started going through the box. “Did you remember the bathing suit?”

You could hear Katsuki’s palm’s crackle with irritation, “Yes… I did. But don’t get your pervy hopes up. I got the most conservative one I could find.” There he goes being overprotective for no reason… well that wasn’t exactly fair he did have a reason. He had just found you in the most horrendous condition possible and immediately had to hand you off to a former villain who kidnapped him in his youth… so yeah. You decided you were going to cut him some slack.

“Well considering it’s for her fucking rehabilitation…she could be naked for all I care. As long as she’s comfortable and gets those damn legs moving.” Dabi could feel his temper starting to get the better of him. Considering Bakugo was known for having the worlds shortest fuse, he needed to keep his cool. He could not be the one to snap first.

“Oi! Don’t act like carrying her around is such a burden!” Bakugo stood up now squaring off with Dabi.

Dabi’s eyes flared but his voice remained even, “I never said it was a burden… In fact, I love carrying her around. However, I don’t plan on making it a habit because I want her to get better.” His voice dipped and got angrier, “And don’t you talk about her as if she’s not sitting in the same room as us! She can speak for herself…”

He looked at you and you gave him a pointed look. ~Calm down please.~

He took a deep breath and signed back, ~Trying~

Katsuki looked between the two of you with narrowed eyes, “When did you guys learn sign language?”

Dabi walked into the kitchen and started making dinner. If Bakugo wanted to make a house call, he needed to let him have his fun. He’d be leaving soon enough, he just needed to let the two of you be until then. “We started learning a couple weeks ago.” He pulled out two bowls because that’s how passive aggressive he is. If that asshat didn’t get the hint by the time dinner was ready, then he’d just have to sit there and watch you eat.

Dabi had to stop for a moment and contemplate this. Why was he this mad? Why did he actually care this much? You were obviously going to be close with the loudmouth. You’d known him for a long time. He needed to remember that just because you lived with him now doesn’t mean that you even want to be here. For all he knows you’re just tolerating him because you have to. It’s not like the two of you have lots of late-night conversations.

He looked over when he realized it had been pretty quiet and saw that the two of you were speaking in sign. His hands on yours helping you with a new word. “Okay so obviously you know sign too.”

Katsuki had a shit eating grin. “The doctors told my mom when I was young, I’d eventually go deaf due to my quirk. I’m basically fluent.” He continued to sit and teach you new words and damn if you weren’t happier than he had seen in the past two weeks.

Dabi rolled his eyes as he went back to making dinner. “Go ahead and teach her whatever you want. Be fucking useful for once.” Dabi continued to make dinner, shoulders tensing every time he heard you giggle.

Katsuki had his phone out and was showing you everything you had missed. “Okay so surprise, surprise, Deku and IcyHot are like a thing now.” He showed a couple cute pictures from Izuku’s private Instagram. The last one was of them kissing under an umbrella. “Kiri and Mina had a kid. Little rascal is probably about six months old now. He’s cute but his teeth hurt like hell.” He picked up his hand that had a tiny crescent shaped scar, which had you absolutely grinning.

He ruffled your hair, “Oi, you won’t be smiling when the brat bites you next.” He continued to scroll, “OH! I almost forgot the best part.” He turned his phone to you and showed you a picture of someone’s mug shot. “Fucking grape juice got arrested.”

Your eyes widened. You waited for him to go one when you realized he was waiting on you. He was giving you an opportunity to contribute to the conversation. ~Why?~

“Trying to buy a prostitute… Literally no one was surprised.” He looked back to the kitchen to make sure Dabi wasn’t listening. When he was satisfied, he pulled you closer into his side and threw his arm around you. “Hey, you would let me know if he was mistreating you right?” His fingers carded through your hair and his eyes roamed all your visible skin for signs of abuse.

You nodded your head and pulled your shirt further down, suddenly aware that you weren’t wearing pants. You had just gotten so used to it you had forgotten. He noticed you fidgeting, “He hasn’t touched you, has he? Because I swear to God I’ll rip out every single staple in his body then make him eat them.”

You leaned further into his to side to hide your blush. He most certainly had touched you. And you still hadn’t worked out how you felt about it. He hadn’t made any attempt to do it again beyond the casual touches when he carried you or when he helped you in the pool. He had made it a habit of sleeping in your room, but he always stayed on his side of the bed.

Katsuki must have taken your lack of response as a confirmation. “I’m going to kill him.”

You sat up straight and started shaking your head, ~No. No. Wrong~

“Wrong? So, he hasn’t touched you then?”

You gulped. Either way you answered was bad. You either told him the truth and he rage killed Dabi, or you lied to your best friend… Either way you were fucked.

As you struggled for an answer Dabi walked in and handed you your bowl of curry and rice. “Don’t worry I’ll answer that one for you, and stop at me at any point you think I got it wrong.” He took his seat in a recliner and took a bite of his meal. “So, we had a moment where something could have happened, but we stopped before it got too far and decided we were just being emotional and moved on.”

Katsuki’s hand started to heat up and crackled but you pulled on his arm to get his attention, ~Right~

He still looked angry, and maybe even a little hurt, which had you all confused again. He looked like he wanted to throw one of his famous temper tantrums. You knew how much it was killing him to not pounce on Dabi, “Keep your disgusting hands to yourself from now on. She’s been through enough. She doesn’t need you taking advantage of her!”

“You don’t speak for her!”

You clapped your hands to get their attention, ~Enough~ You gave each of them a glare and it was silent after that.

You took a bite of your dinner to avoid Katsuki’s eyes and was met with the most delicious meal Dabi had made to date. You cleared your throat to get Dabi’s attention. You pointed to Katsuki then your bowl of food and signed ~where~?

“I didn’t think a busy hero like him would have time to stick around for dinner.” He continued to pick at his food, “Speaking of which. It’s getting late. Hate to keep you from your super important work of dress up and make believe.”

Katsuki gestured to the duffle bag he carried in. “Oh, I’m not going anywhere tonight.” He was looking at you now. A look of concern ghosted across his face. “Consider it a wellness check.” He leaned forward and gave the side of your head a soft peck, “I just want to be sure you’re okay. I promised you I wouldn’t let anything happen to you and I intend to keep that promise.”

You felt yourself sinking into his familiar warmth. If there was anyone who felt like home, it was Katsuki. Sure, he was in the middle of a ridiculous pissing contest with Dabi at the moment, but you really couldn’t blame him. He’d always been a stubborn, territorial, asshole. But he was also kind he cared about you and for that you could forgive him.

“Whatever, just don’t get in the way of our routine.” Dabi stood up with his now empty bowl. “You know that law, eat every last bite. I’ll get your bath started while you finish.” He looked at Katsuki, “You can have my room… I’ll sleep on the couch.”

He didn’t even wait for a response as he left the two of you alone.

Katsuki visibly relaxed into the couch once Dabi had left the room. “What did he mean by law?”

You smiled as you pulled out your journal and opened it up for him. You pointed to law number seven. At first, he was pissed that Dabi would give you a new set of rules to live by, like you were some kid. But then he realized there wasn’t a single “law” on here that didn’t have your best interest in mind.

His eyes scanned over the rest. Chuckling at some silly laws like ‘Wake up whenever the hell you want’, and ‘No fucking shrugging.’ He had to admit that he also hated it when you would do that. It wasn’t that you were indecisive. It was that you knew what you wanted but you never wanted to speak up for yourself. Always willing to bend over backwards to make others happy. Never wanting to give anyone any more reason to dislike you.

His heart hurt at the laws that said things like, ‘No drugs’, ‘No locked doors’, and ‘Never say sorry for something that isn’t your fault.’

The law that had his blood boiling however was the last one, law number thirteen. ‘I will not initiate the sexy time without written or verbal consent.’ He furiously flipped through the pages that came after, trying to get the idea of you ever giving Dabi consent to touch you out of his mind.

You had finished your food by now and stretched your muscles out. All in all, this had been a great day. You walked on your own in the pool AND Katsuki had come to visit. You were so tired you just knew you would fall asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow. Hopefully you wouldn’t have any nightmares.

You put your hand on Katsuki’s shoulder and used it to push yourself to your feet. You wobbled for a few seconds but otherwise kept your footing.

“Hey look at you! I thought you’d be too tired after what we did in the pool today, good job.” You looked up to see Dabi leaning in the hallway. “Your bath is ready. One for me, two for blondie.”

Katsuki scrunched his nose up, “Wha-“

You held up two fingers and Dabi nodded. “Alright looks like you get bath time duty today.” Dabi smirked when Katsuki’s eyes widened. “Don’t freak out. She’s gotten to the point where she can get in on her own and some days she can even get out too. You just need to hang out by the door in case she needs help.

You wound your arms around Katsuki’s neck, and he picked you up. His heart pounded as he followed Dabi to what he assumed was your room. He leaned over and whispered in your ear, “Hey wouldn’t be the first time we bathed together.”

You giggled and hit his shoulder. You knew he meant when you were kids. But you couldn’t stop the blush that took over you at the thought of him just hopping in the tub with you now.

Dabi tensed up as he stopped at the door to your room. “Alright… y/n you know the drill if you need me just yell.” He winked at you after his stupid joke and you flipped him off.

He walked back to the kitchen and opened his laptop. He started to go over tomorrow’s sign language lesson early. He’d never tell you this, but he does this every day. You were so much better at picking it up then him, he needed to do extra work just to keep up.

You signed ~Thank you~ as Katsuki placed you down next to the full tub.

“Okay… so I guess you just let me know if you need me by…?”

You shrugged as you knocked on the side of the tub. Part of you really didn’t want him to leave, even if it was only for a few minutes. You reached out and grabbed his wrist.

He gave you a curious look, but softened when you signed back, ~Stay~

“Does he usually stay?”

You shook your head, Dabi always insisted he had things to do and it was important you do some things on your own.

Katsuki took a seat on the floor with his back against the tub. Even with permission he was determined to protect your modesty. You slipped your clothes off and quickly lifted your legs into the tub. It was almost too easy now and you smiled at your progress.

You sighed as the water warmed your skin. Your hand reached for Katsuki’s and gave it a squeeze. You could see the tension in his shoulders as he squeezed your hand back before intertwining your fingers.

“Y/n… I -I know I’ve already said I’m sorry. But I still have this mountain of guilt sitting on my chest. You were… are… one of the most important people in my life. And I was so wrapped up in my own life I didn’t see the signs. I didn’t notice that something was wrong.” You could hear his voice crack as he tried to hold his emotions down. “I knew you went on secret missions that you couldn’t always talk about. I watched as you came back looking defeated and… and broken. I thought there was something going on, but I just kept reminding myself you worked with heroes… that I was just being paranoid.”

You felt tears build in your eyes and you were glad he wasn’t looking at you. You rubbed circles on his hand with your thumb encouraging him to keep going. He obviously had a lot he had been bottling up. “You know Deku and I went to your agency one day after you had been gone for a few months and all they told us was your mission was confidential, and we weren’t related to you so they couldn’t even tell us if you were okay.” He sniffled, “I went there every day after work and got the same bull shit answer. It drove me crazy.”

He took a deep breath to settle himself, “So we started asking about you. Started looking for you in all the underground trading routes.” A long silence followed as he got lost in the memories of looking for you. “It almost took us a year, but we finally found someone who had seen you. Some small-time villain whose quirk was invisibility. He had snuck into your agency to try and break his boss out. But when he found him you were also in the room…”

He didn’t keep going, and for that you were grateful because you didn’t want to hear it. You knew what came next and you didn’t exactly want to relive it.

“I’m so sorry. I failed you. I was supposed to protect you. I promised you I’d be by your side forever, and I-I-“

You pulled his hand towards you and gave it a kiss before putting his palm on your cheek. He hesitantly turned and looked at you with tears in his eyes. You activated your quirk and washed over him with feelings of love and understanding. You watched his eyes close as he shuttered. You may not be able to speak, but you could still communicate to him through feeling that you were okay.

You reached over and brushed a stray tear away and pulled him close to plant a kiss on his forehead.

When your bath was over, he waited for you to wrap yourself in a towel before picking you up and depositing you gently on your bed. You pulled the All Might shirt he had brought with him over your head, and crawled under the covers.

He had only wanted to lay there until you fell asleep, but he ended up falling asleep soon after you.

Dabi walked in hoping to tell you goodnight but found the two of you asleep facing each other. You under the covers, Bakugo on top of the covers. Your hands stretched out towards each other as if looking for each other even in sleep.

Dabi’s hands were glowing with livid flames as he left in a hurry.

He went straight to the abandoned cabinet that held all of the now off-limits drugs. He could take just one… you would never know.

He growled as he shoved the bottle back into the cabinet and slammed the door. Reaching instead for a bottle of whiskey. He went to the couch and poured himself a drink.

And that’s how you and Bakugo found him the next day. Passed out on the couch empty whisky bottle on the floor next to him.

Dabi chugged his coffee as his head pounded. He was no stranger to hangovers, but ever since you came to live with him, he hadn’t felt the need to drink that much. At one point in his life it had been the only way he could get any decent sleep.

He watched from his seat at the kitchen island as you and Bakugo made breakfast. The smell of bacon hit him and his stomach growled. Shit.

You could see his sour expression and when Bakugo wasn’t looking you stood from the chair you were sitting in. Dabi kept his eyes on you like a hawk. Watching for any signs you might fall. You stumbled but he remained still. He knew you were okay. The Island was right there if you needed to hold on to it. You were only a few steps away from him now. Arms stretched out and a smile on your face.

You knew this would cheer him up, and get him out of whatever shitty mood he was in. Only one more step and you’d be there. To this Dabi stood up and took a step away from you with a playful look in his eye as if to say come and get me.

Bakugo continued to talk, not even noticing you weren’t sitting behind him anymore. It wasn’t until the loud thud of you hitting the tile floor that he looked up. He immediately rushed to you while Dabi laughed.

“Why the fuck are you laughing? She could be hurt!”

Dabi just continued to laugh, “I’m laughing because it’s fucking funny. She’s fine.” He titled his head to the side. “You’re a tough cookie aren’t yeah y/n?”

You giggled and nodded. Dabi took you from Bakugo’s embrace “See she’s fine. I think you need to remember she used to be a pro hero. I think she can handle tripping over her own feet.” He stood up and sat you down in front of the laptop.

“Okay time to learn some sign language, looks like today’s all about food. Oh good, you love food.” He ruffled your hair before picking a piece of bacon off of your plate and biting into it.

The little back and forth continued the entire day. The biggest argument came later when it was time for the pool. You groaned and decided you weren’t in the mood. ~No pool~

Dabi rolled his eyes at you, “Yes pool. You even have a bathing suit this time. So, get your ass in gear.”

You crossed your arms over your chest in defiance. “Listen here brat. It’s the law. We work on getting your strength back every single day. No negotiations.”

Bakugo didn’t like the tone Dabi was talking to you in. “Oi, she’s not some puppet for you to boss around. She said she doesn’t want to so that’s it. Back off!”

Dabi’s eyes flared with anger, “You don’t have a fucking say in this. This is between me and her.” He looked at you again, “If you had asked nicely, I might have let this go. Just because we have a guest doesn’t mean you can disregard the laws and neglect the routine. Now be a good girl and let’s go put your bathing suit on.”

Bakugo stepped between you and Dabi, “Be a good girl? What the fuck is your problem. You don’t own her.”

Dabi pinched the bridge of his nose trying to remind himself why he can’t just fight the obnoxious asshole in font of him. “I don’t own her, but I also refuse to sit here and watch her wither away. We have laws to make her better, and I refuse to deviate. It’s clear I take her recovery more seriously than you do.”

Bakugo shoved Dabi back, “The fuck you do! This isn’t some rehab she checked into. You have no right to boss her around! What makes you think you know what’s best for her?”

Dabi was practically screaming now, “Because I’ve fucking been in her shoes, you ignorant ticking time bomb!” His chest was heaving now, “Did you ever wonder why I had to fake my own death just to get away from my own father… who was a fucking HERO! I’ve been poked and prodded and pushed past my limits. Except I didn’t have someone there to help me and I ended up in the League. Depressed, blood thirty, and hell bent on getting revenge on the so-called heroes that were so okay with a little boy practically killing himself every day just to produce the next number one.”

To this Bakugo didn’t have an answer. He’s heard Todoroki’s horror stories. He could only imagine what Endeavor had put Dabi through.

Dabi looked at you know eyes still furious, “I’ll make you a deal y/n. You put on quite the show this morning taking a few steps on your own. No matter how mad I am, I’ll never tell you that wasn’t a good job. But now you want to skip the very thing that allowed you to take those steps.” He walked out of the kitchen and took a seat in his recliner. “Make it over to me right now, with no help and we can skip the pool.”

With a determined scowl you pushed yourself out of your seat. Bakugo went to grab you “Y/n you don’t have to do-“

“Yes! She does, now let her do it. She needs this. Y/n you can do this. Now prove it to me and prove it to yourself.”

You took your first step, determination written all over you face. Step followed step and you had already walked further than you had this morning, but you were only about halfway there.

Dabi’s eyes were patient and his voice was calm. “Come on y/n. You can do this. You aren’t broken. There is nothing wrong with you. Just keep walking.”

You could feel the tension in the room stiffen. Bakugo watched you with his hands out as if to catch you, always your protector, always your safety net. But you didn’t need that right now.

Your knees started to wobble and buckle, and involuntary whine left your lip as you went down to one knee.

“Come on you can’t give up now. You’re doing such a good job. Now push yourself back up. I’m right here. Come on. Push harder!”

You felt a tear streak down your cheek as you tried to push yourself up but only ended up on the ground.

Bakugo was at your side in an instant but you pushed him away.

“That’s right y/n you can do this. I believe in you. I don’t care if you have to crawl. You’re so close.” You pulled yourself up enough to crawl across the rough carpet. You got up to your knees then slowly you stood.

Dabi saw the fire in your eyes and it sent a shiver down his spine. You were going to do this even if it killed you. It made him think about what you would look like in battle. If you looked even half as gritty as you do now he had no doubt you had strong men cowering at your feet. He wouldn’t be satisfied until he gave that back to you. That power, that strength, that untamable will, he knew was somewhere inside you laying dormant.

He got out of his recliner and lowered himself to the ground, “Come on your so close now. Keep going Y/N!”

With one last push you practically jumped into his arms and collapsed. Tears streamed down your cheeks, but for the first time since coming here they were happy tears. You did it. You walked all on your own.

He cooed into your hair as he rocked you back and forth, “You did such a good job. You did it. I knew you could. You can rest now. I’ll get you some ice cream. How does that sound. We’ll celebrate.”

You nodded as you clutched Dabi’s shirt.

Bakugo disappeared for a few minutes and when he came back he had his bag over his shoulder. He kneeled down next to you and pressed his forehead to yours. “I think it’s time I got back to work. I still need to take down the bastards that did this to you.” He smoothed his fingers through your hair and looked to Dabi, “I think you’re in good hands.”

He made his way to the door, “I’ll be back soon.”

*****************

Tags: tags: @falling4fandoms @wifunozomi @here-in-never-land @whore-for-anime@klecksstorys @aurorahoneybuns @theunknownrandom @insane-without-delirium @frenchsfryys @officiallydarkgeek @neofixcs @music-is-all-i-need

#bakugo #bakugo katsuki #bakugo x reader #bakugo x y/n #mha bakugou #bhna bakugou #dabi imagine #dabi x reader #dabi my hero academia #dabi x you #dabi x y/n #dabi todoroki #toya todoroki #mha #mha x reader #mha imagines #my hero academia

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pockcock · 4 years ago

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crawlin’ back to you (reiner x reader)

“I tried to move on, but nobody is you.” & “I never should have said that.”

summary: somehow, reiner and you can't get away from each other warnings: smoking, drinking, just very sad reiner, sleepy writer (it is full of mistakes) word count: 1,807

You took a sip of your whisky. This was your third shot this night but you were too sad to get drunk. The burning sensation of whisky was nothing compared to the fire in your heart. I let him hurt me, you thought. I let him and his golden eyes hurt me, use me, and throw me away like a doll. You took another sip. Fuck him. Tears were forming in your eyes. You swallowed hard to ignore them. Fuck him and his golden eyes. Finally, you chugged your drink. Fuck you, Reiner.

As you finished your drink, the bartender came to take your class. “Want the fourth?” he asked. He had been friendly since you sat down and smiling every time he came to pour some drink.

You shrugged. “I won’t say no.”

Pouring into your cup he looked at you with a frisky smile. “You don’t look like a whisky-type girl.”

“Really?” You laughed a little. “What do I look like then?”

“Wine.” He pushed your cup back to you.

You took a cigarette out and lit it. “I used to be a wine girl.” The cigarette was loosely hanging between your lips. “Nowadays I’m y/n.”

Bartender chuckled. “Jean.”

You inhaled the cigarette as he asked. “Who is the guy?”

“Was.” Your words were harsh like the odor of the smoke you just released. “He was my boyfriend.” You took a huge sip off of your drink. “We call it quits.”

“He must’ve been a stupid one since he left a beauty like you.”

You laughed at his compliment. “Thanks. But it was more than just beauty.”

“Tell me,” He said while leaning on the counter. “You’re the only customer for now and I have all the time you need.”

You smiled softly. “It doesn’t have a happy ending.”

Jean smiled wistfully. “Nothing has.”

The smoke of your cigarette was burning your eyes. Or the tears. You couldn’t tell the difference. “He was perfect.” You inhaled slowly. “Everything about him was perfect.” You shook your cigarette in order to get rid of the ashes. “Then, huh. We said things we would never think of.”

You continued. “He had golden eyes. You know, the sunrise has a slightly faded orange color? His eyes were just like that.” A smile formed on your lips. “When he looked, he would see through me. He would see me.” Your hands started shaking as you speak. Ignoring the sensation, you led the cigarette to your lips. “Can you please give me some more?” You asked pointing to your empty glass.

Jean scoffed. “I rather not to, but you need it.”

You continued talking after he poured some more into your glass. “You know, it hurts more since, in thirty-five minutes, it will be my birthday. And I am sure he won’t call or text or whatever.” You smiled. “He usually would insist on being the first one to say ‘happy birthday’ but-”

“Hey,” Jean interrupted. “I need to take care of these two.” You glimpsed right, at where he pointed, two women sat down and they were looking for a bartender. “I will be here as quick as possible.”

“Don’t worry about me,” you said, raising your glass. “I already have a company.”

He stopped right before he went. “Happy early birthday.”

Twenty minutes later you had smoked 2 more and the third one was a fidget around your fingers. You were no longer drinking because whisky was mixed with the smoke and made you feel nauseous so, you left the money under your glass and waited for Jean to come back. The bar was becoming crowded as time went by, he couldn’t stop by. You were fine though, being alone in a crowd wasn’t so bad. You could have a trip down memory lane.

You thought about Reiner.

He must’ve been home now, doing some commander business as he always did. His distraction was his work, you remembered him working until the sunrise when you fight. He would then come to bed around six, pull you to his chest, and bury his face to your neck. A small ‘sorry’ would fall from his lips as he kissed your neck and you would feel his tears on your shoulders. Those days he wouldn’t let you leave him, even for work. Reiner would cry and kiss you until you forgive him.

This time though, he left you alone.

Trying to get away from your thoughts, you lit your cigarette. As you exhaled the leftover smoke in your lungs, you heard a familiar husky voice.

“I told you to quit.”

Your breath was stuck in your throat. Reiner.

He sat right next to you and took the cigarette from your fingers. “I knew I would find you here,” he inhaled the stump. “But I didn’t know I would find you smoking.”

You were trembling. “I…” You couldn’t even look at him. “I was thinking.”

“About?” He drew in again and leave it in between your fingers.

You frowned. “Anything. Everything.” Your shaky hands were trying to find your mouth. “I-I needed a distraction.”

He hummed. You finally found the courage to look at him. He frowned harshly and put his arms on the counter. You were able to see the dark amber color of his eyes from the side, his golds were darker today. You felt the tears forming in your eyes.

“Why did you come?” You asked but regretted it.

He shook his head with an incomprehensible attitude. “I… I don’t know.” He lifted his head and looked at you. “I just wanted to see you.”

A tear betrayed you and left your eye, trailing down your cheek. “Why?” Your voice was low, almost inaudible.

“Y/n...” He brushed the tear with his thumb. “Please-”

“Why?” You pushed his hand away. “After all the things you have said, why?”

“Finally, Y/n!” You heard Jean’s voice. “Sorry for making you wa- hey, uh... You want another?”

“Yes but make it double.”

As he handed the glass he whispered. “Do you want me to stay?” Jean wasn’t stupid after all.

You shook your head and took a big sip. “Thank you, Jean. I got this.”

You turned to see Reiner, his eyes were locked on Jean like a predator. His jaw was clenched and his golden orbs were burning now. When Jean left, he turned around to meet your eyes. “Who the fuck is he?”

“Why do you care?” You chugged your glass. “He is nicer than you.”

You saw him clenching his jaw and fist. His knuckles were turning white. “Can he satisfy you?”

That was it. “Fuck you, Reiner!” You got up from your chair to leave but his firm hands found your wrist. “Let me go!”

“No.” His voice was hoarse. “You are drunk, you can’t go like this.” His lips were so close to your lips, he was afraid that someone might hear you. “Look, I’m sorry. Let me drive you home, then you can scream all you want.”

Home is not home anymore, you thought. “No.” Not without you.

He pleaded one more time. “Please.” His voice sounded hurt. “Please, y/n.”

“Fine.” You freed yourself from his grip. You wanted this shitshow to be over.

After paying for your drinks and saying goodbye to Jean, you were in his car which smelled just like him. You didn’t say anything during the ride, didn’t even look at him. You were angry and sad. Reiner disrespected you and you felt disgusted.

“I’m sorry,” He spoke as he pulled over in front of your house. “It was disrespectful.”

“Glad you realized.” You were ready to get off when he locked the doors. “Hey!” You turned to him yet you never expected what you saw. You couldn’t move. You were angry, yes, but you could never ignore the effect of his eyes on you. You’d know they were looking at you, within you.

“Please, listen to me.” Reiner touched your hand hesitantly. Your eyes found his, they were glistening yet his golden eyes were now looking faded. “I need you to listen.”

When you stayed silent, he continued.

“I tried.” He moved his eyes from you as soon as he started talking, he was looking disgusted. “I tried to move on.” His grip on your hand was getting firmer. “I said to myself ‘she is not the only one’. But I couldn’t…” His eyes, filled with tears and sorrow, finally met yours. “I tried to move on, but nobody is you.”

A tear left your eye, you didn’t even realize it was there before. “Reiner…”

“Let me finish and say what you want, please.” He inhaled. “I hate waking up without you. And it’s not just because I got used to you, no.” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I can’t sleep knowing the fact that I won’t get to see you in the morning.” His hand left your hand and landed on your cheek. “I-” He was choking due to his tears. “I can’t live without you.”

Your tears were now running onto his hand. “I want to forgive you.” You closed your eyes, pulling yourself away from him. “I really do, but I shouldn’t.”

He was sobbing. “Why?”

“You hurt me.” Your hands were on your chest, your heart was aching. “You burned my heart. You knew what to say, or what not to say, and you hurt me.” A sob escaped your lips. “I shouldn’t forgive you. I cannot forgive you. ”

He took his hands away from you. Please don’t. “I see. I’m sorry.”

You two sat in his car for an uncomfortable amount of time. He then suddenly turned around to get a package from the backseats of his car. “I’m sorry,” he said while placing the box into your hands. “I wanted this to be more special, this is your birthday after all.” He was embarrassed.

“Happy birthday.”

Why are you doing this to me? “Reiner, I-”

He interrupted your words. “You don’t have to say anything.”

Your teary eyes were blocking your vision yet you managed to (somehow) carefully opened the package to reveal a beautiful designer box, you knew the brand. Your shaky hands lifted the lid and there was a beautiful watch with a hand-written note.

time stops when you smile. please smile and let me live in that moment. i love you. -r

“Reiner…”

He took your hand and placed a kiss on it. He was hiding his face so that you couldn’t see his teary eyes. “I wanted to give you something beautiful but I couldn’t.” He rubbed meaningless circles with his thumb and kissed your hand one more time. “I know that you cannot forgive me. But can’t we start over?”

You reached to his chin and lifted his head. You smiled, he smiled. “We can try.”

...

a/n: Hi! This is my first EVER English fic and I am super nervous. It is currently 7:35 AM and I should be sleeping but NOOO. It's probably really bad, but hey! I tried. I also couldn't really finish because I couldn't come up with a good idea. AGAIN! I WROTE THIS AT 7:35 NO SLEEP.

Thanks to @221bshrlocked I found the courage to write some things (I hope you accept AOT fics). HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE IT!

#maggies17 #snk reiner #reiner x reader #shingeki no kyojin reiner #reiner braun #shingeki no kyojin s4 #attack on titan season 4 #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #angst

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purpleyellow · 4 years ago

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Recovery pt 2

Seventeen 14th member

Hayun’s masterlist

“She’s home, and it’s time for the 97+maknae liners to watch Hayun”

a/n: Some of these are shorter, so I apologize. Also, I couldn’t find gifs of mingyu and dino that fit the “aesthetic” so sorry again. Feel free to let me know your thoughts as well as send me some requests💙. Ask box is also open to random chats.

The8

(italics are Chinese)

“Myungho!” Hayun called out from her spot on the couch and waited for a few seconds before screaming again “Minghao! The8! Whatever name you respond to”

“I’m here woman, calm down” The boy rolled his eyes as she extended her arms to give him her notebook. Minghao took it without a second glance and sat on the floor next to her to read the sentences she had written since he had last left her. “Nice job”

“Do you have any pointers to give me?” She smiled paddling her feet on the couch and he gave her back the notebook.

“Your calligraphy still sucks” He snickered making her chuckle “But I told you that the last three times you called me”

“Yeah, you did,” Hayun twisted her pen, looking from her laptop to the pages before noticing the boy hadn’t left like the previous times “What?”

“Why the sudden interest in Chinese?” He blatantly said, making her close her notebook and shrug her shoulders.

“I needed something to distract me and turns out it’s very easy to get a language certificate through the internet,” The girl said without a break, smiling triumphantly at the end which made him giggle at her proud face. “I might need you to help me revise some stuff though”

“I don’t have much time before I need to go back to pledis so write down your questions and I’ll help you when I get back” He patted her arm and got up from the floor.

“Yeah, go ahead and leave me like everyone else” Hayun threw her head back dramatically making him look at her sassily.

“You do know we’re making you richer right?”

“Yes. And you know that I like to communicate with people” She raised a finger and poked his chest “And I can’t do that if someone is not around to teach me their mother tongue”

“Isn’t three languages enough for you?”

“I want to be one of those smug polyglots. Once you’re done with me I’ll call Yuto to help me with Japanese. There’s this idol who can speak German I think, I’ll talk to him too” She joked with a wink and Minghao shook his head laughing.

Mingyu

Mingyu pushed the door with his elbow and set the tray of food on Hayun’s nightstand. Pushing her arm until she woke up from, what he assumed, her nap.

“What?” She groaned holding his hand and turning away from him.

“I made you food” Mingyu chanted sitting on the bad and moving the platter to his lap

“Is it pizza?” She asked, burying her face in the pillow.

“No?”

“Then I don’t want it”

“Noona, you have to in order to get better soon” The boy rolled his eyes poking her side and she groaned again.

“Is it ramen?”

“No” He answered, expecting her to at least sit up to see what it was. In reality, Hayun stayed still in her spot, pretending to fall asleep again and have him go away. Huffing, Minngyu poked her again “I tried a new recipe, you need to help me see if it’s tasty or not”

Raising her head like he expected, she checked what he had brought and whined while sitting properly.

“You made soup” The girl pouted making him laugh. “I want something greasy”

“You can’t have anything greasy for now” Mingyu shook his head and brought the spoon out of the bowl, leaning forward to feed her a little “Say ahh”

Shutting her mouth, Hayun shook her head making him groan and retreat the spoon annoyed. Smiling mischievously, she opened her mouth again and as the boy took the bowl out of his lap she instantly closed it.

“Can you be a little cooperative?” Mingyu complained laughing and she shrugged, allowing him to properly feed her a spoonful. “How is it?”

Making a disgusted face, Hayun quickly changed it to a pondering one and then smiled satisfied.

“Not bad, Chef Gyu”

“Not bad” He repeated her in English making her laugh and nod.

“Next time, maybe add a little more spice”

“A package arrived for you” Seokmin sang while walking inside Hayun’s room and she shot up from her bed “Wait, calm down. We don’t need your stitches to rip open”

“I’m taking them off tomorrow” She rolled her eyes taking the package from him. As he was walking away she waved him inside, shaking the big box with a smile “Stay, you’re going to like what I ordered”

“Ohh, what is it?” He sat along with her on her bed and helped her rip open the cardboard.

“I ordered a hammock” Hayun smiled satisfied as she made her way to the fabric “I’m going to hang it in my room and chill in it”

“Cool,” Dokyeom got up, holding an end of the object and spreading it out so they could get a perfect view “How are you going to hang it?”

“Uh?” The girl blinked, her smile turning to a frown as she looked at him.

“The hammock. You’re going to need a place to hang it”

“Oh. True” She sighed and let go of her end, throwing her body back on the bed and repressing a very mild discomfort. “I didn’t think about that”

“I guess we’re going to need a drill or something professional like that” The boy kept muttering, walking around her room while looking at the walls and dragging the hammock along the floor.

“There must be a tutorial somewhere on the internet. I’ll look for it later” She sighed carefully pulling herself upwards. “Or you know… my very strong groupmates can hold it up while I lay in it”

“Ah, I think you got the wrong person” DK shook his head grinning and she leaned her head forward doing the same movement.

“No, I don’t. C’mon, Seokmin-ah. Do a favor for your sick Noona” She smirked, making him tumble laughing.

“Wow, just a minute ago there was nothing wrong with you” He managed to say in between laughs and she grinned, leaning on her side and shrugging calmly.

Seungkwan

“Are you going to hold my hand?” Hayun asked Sengkwan as soon as they made it to the hospital, the boy rolling his eyes with a big exhale before taking her hand in his and making her laugh “I meant when they take out the stitches dummy”

“Of course I knew that” He scoffed, throwing her hand away. In revenge, Hayun looped her arm around his waist and forcefully made him hug her shoulder as they walked together. Whining, Seungkwan said under his breath “Noona, not here”

“There’s no one in the hallway, stop pouting” Hayun giggled gently slapping his butt, which caused him to widen his eyes and look around to see if she was telling the truth.

“Aren’t you a little bit worried?”

“Not really. I’ve had stitches before” She shrugged as they walked inside a room and sat on a waiting list. “But in all seriousness, I do want you to hold my hand while they do it”

“Why?” He whined again resting his head on her shoulder. “You said you weren’t scared”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t want some support”

“Okay then” He sighed and they stayed in silence for a few seconds before Seungkwan turned to her serious “You’re probably not going to like hearing this”

“Oh my, what did you do?”

“Nothing. I just feel bad” The boy took her hand again and looked down ashamed “I kind of feel better about not doing the entire performance after you had to step out”

“What?” Hayun frowned and he shook his head, realizing how that sounded.

“I’m not glad that you had to take a break. The members know I complain about wanting you with us all the time” He smiled gently making her chuckle “It just made me realize how lucky I am that I didn’t have to sit out everything”

“Strangely enough I don’t feel attacked at all” Hayun laughed patting his head and gesturing for him to rest on her shoulder again “I’m glad you didn’t have to either Boo. Please keep taking better care of yourself”

Vernon

“Is that my sister?” Vernon frowned, leaning down over the back of the couch to check out Hayun’s phone.

“Oopsies, gotta go,” Sofia said over facetime and instantly hung up the call, making the boy frown at his own reflection on the black screen.

“You were facetiming my sister?” He looked at Hayun confused and walked around to sit next to her.

“Yeah actually. I do talk fairly often with your mom too.” She quirked up an eyebrow and crossed her arms “You better step up your technology game because I’m stealing your family”

“What?” He chuckled, leaning back and taking her phone to check the latest calls, laughing harder when he realized she was telling the truth.

“I mean it, boy. Your mom said she’s getting me a Christmas stocking this year”

“Well, you’re going to be a great addition to the family” Vernon snickered not knowing if she was being honest or not.

“I’m aware”

“Are you going to do something right now?” He asked side-eyeing her and she shook her head “Good. I’m going to need you to help me out with something I composed”

“You know. Technically I’m still on my work hiatus” She smirked poking his side and Vernon snorted. “But, we are at home after all so I don’t think that’s a problem”

“I know, that’s why I asked” He laughed and opened an app on his phone.

Dino

“You’re not supposed to be here,” Hayun said as soon as she heard Dino entering the room backstage.

“You came!” The boy beamed running to hug her and she replied with a giggle rubbing his back.

“I wanted to surprise you guys after the last stage” She smiled and shrugged looking to see if anyone else was around “Please don’t tell the others”

“Okay. Oh my, I saw you this morning but I can’t believe you are here” The boy chuckled making her pat his cheek.

“Why did you come back?” Hayun asked frowning “You’re supposed to be on stage in two minutes”

“I left my phone inside my pocket again” Chan giggled embarrassed and took the device, setting it on the table. “Aren’t you going to be lonely while we’re gone”

“Nah. I’ll look around to see if there’s anyone bored too”

“You were supposed to say ‘watching you is enough for me’” Dino made an annoyed face and both of them started laughing.

“I’ll look around after watching the performance, don’t worry” She rolled her eyes and held his hand “Talking about it. If you guys come back and I’m not here text me. I either lost track of time or one of the managers sent me home”

“The managers don’t know you’re here?” He said amused “How did you even come? You’re driving already?”

“I took a cab. But now that you said, I can drive again. I don’t know why I didn’t do that”

“Okay, Noona” Dino laughed stealing a look at the clock “I have to go, please don’t wander around too much”

“Good luck with the performance!” Hayun smiled sending him a flying kiss before he bolted off the room.

#Hayun #seventeen 14th member #seventeen oc #seventeen au #Seventeen Additional Member #seventeen addition #seventeen female addition #seventeen female member #seventeen female oc #seventeen extra member #seventeen imagines #seventeen x oc #seventeen x 14th member #kpop addition #kpop au #kpop #female!oc #female!kpop #female!addition

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let-it-raines · 4 years ago

Note

Prompt: we met each other while each doing the (separate) walk of shame after a night out with other people.

Just a continuous shoutout to @shireness-says for sending me the most random but best prompts and also for only judging how bad of a cook I am a little 😘

on ao3 | here | if that’s how you want to read!

-/-

Emma doesn’t have rules about a lot of things in her life, but she has rules about this, about one-night stands.

Rule 1: They are always, always, always one night.

Rule 2: They never come back to her place.

Rule 3: She always gets up and leaves before they wake up, if she falls asleep there at all.

It’s not the nicest move in the world, but, well, Emma isn’t hanging around with these guys to be nice. She’s not there for the small talk, for the sink sharing as she brushes her teeth with a little toothpaste on her finger. She’s definitely not there for the breakfasts. She’s sure that they’re fine, that some of them are more than good, but, well, she doesn’t really care enough to get to know how the guy likes his eggs. The guy definitely doesn’t care how she takes hers. He probably just wants another fuck, and no matter how good the night before was, Emma doesn’t do more than one time.

Rule number one and all that.

And it’s not that she’s going around having one-time things all the time, and it’s not that there would be anything wrong with that if she was. But she’s been around the block enough times to know to come up with her rules.

Right now, she hates herself a little for falling asleep, but she’s become a tad bit rusty on this whole thing. It’s been awhile since she’s done this. She was with Walsh for a year, and, well, it took her awhile to need to scratch the itch after that ended. But last night…let’s just say she needed to last night, so she put on some mascara and a red lip, found a dress that was a little too tight and a little too low cut, and she went to a club for the first time in ages. She nearly texted Ruby and Mulan and asked them to come with her, but she chickened out at the last minute.

Emma Swan: catches bad guys for a living, chickens out asking her friends to go drinking and dancing with her.

The cold morning air nips at her legs and her shoulders, and she wraps her arms around herself as she dodges a sewer grate to keep her heel from getting caught. She’s nearly to her apartment door. She won’t freeze before then. Still, next time she’s remembering a jacket.

Emma speeds up when she’s a building away, especially as more people start leaving their apartments and heading for work or the gym or wherever else people go on Saturday mornings, and just as she’s reaching for the side door of her apartment building, someone else’s hand touches it first. She watches it, taking in the dark hair over the knuckles and up his forearm, and Emma’s eyes follow up his arm. He’s wearing a dark gray shirt that only has one or two buttons down at the bottom in order to show off an impressive amount of chest hair, and when she looks at his face, the first thing she notices is how messy his hair is and then the red pillow creases on his cheek.

Oh.

Emma blushes, but she doesn’t know why. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, especially since they’re both coming home from the same exact thing.

The man flashes a smile, bright white against the black of his slightly overgrown stubble, and pulls the door open before gesturing for her to move forward.

“After you, love.”

“Thanks,” Emma mumbles.

She ducks her head and walks inside the building, reveling in the heat that immediately comes down on her skin. She walks down the hallway, and the guy’s footsteps follow behind her. She gets into the elevator. He does too. If she didn’t slightly recognize him, her shoulders would tense and her nerves would stand on edge. She does recognize him, though, from around the building. She’s sure she’s seem him once or twice before.

“Cold out there this morning,” he whistles as his fingers begin to toy with his shirt, one more button closing, not that it helps.

“Yep.”

“Almost makes staying until they wake up worth it.”

“Or paying for a damn cab.”

He huffs and tilts his head back to scratch his jaw. That is an unfairly sharp jawline. “Killian Jones. Floor seven.”

“Emma.”

“No last name? Or floor number?”

“Oh Jones,” Emma sighs, twisting toward him. She crosses her arms under her bust despite knowing it will draw attention to her boobs, and sure enough, he glances down. “You’re going to have to watch me do the walk of shame a few more times before you get any of that.”

There’s that smile again. The door opens on his floor, and he steps through the opening but still places his hand on the door to keep it from closing. “It’s only a walk of shame if you’re ashamed of it. I prefer to think of it as a stride of pride. Or perhaps, just a very satisfied walk home.”

And then he’s gone, and the doors close behind him as Emma goes up one more floor.

-/-

“Well, you certainly look different.”

Emma’s shoulder’s tense, and slowly, she turns on her head to see what jackass is talking to her. It takes her a moment to recognize him, a moment of cold weather and tired eyes and the slightest bit of a hangover, but she rarely forgets a face. Or a man who displays that much chest in nearly freezing weather. Then again, she was doing the same. She notices he seems to be doing the same thing now while she’s got on a shirt that covers almost all of her.

“Yeah, well, I find flannel is much more comfortable than skin-tight sequins.”

She’s in her pajamas in the lobby of her building getting the mail. Yeah, most people are just now getting home from work and are in real clothes, but when you have the day off, there’s no reason to put on real pants.

“Oh, I agree. I can’t tell you how uncomfortable it is when I have to wear sequins, Swan.”

She fully turns. “I never told you my last name.”

Killian leans forward and taps on her mailbox where E. Swan is written. Just below it, there’s a K. Jones. Oh.

“If you’ll excuse me.”

Emma locks her box and steps to the side so Killian can get his mail. There are only two envelopes in there, and one of them is a slip to pick up a package from the front desk. Emma swears it’s the only reason they still have these mailboxes. She realizes she’s standing there staring at the back of his head and at the suit he’s wearing even though she has no reason to still be there. She needs to be back up in her apartment getting dressed to go to the gym since she’s neglected it all day today. She should have gotten up this morning and gotten it over with.

Idly, she wonders what he does for a living, but then she remembers she needs to go before she seems weird.

Weirder.

She’s definitely already weird.

-/-

He’s at her gym.

Granted, it’s literally the gym in the building next door to her where all of the residents go, but still. She’s never seen him in there before.

She also rarely goes at this time.

He’s running on the treadmill in a fitted shirt and pair of joggers, and she’s on the elliptical behind him, warming up before her Pilates class. Emma ducks her head and focuses on her music and her movement, trying not to draw his attention.

When he winks at her in the mirror, she knows she’s failed.

When she nearly falls over on the elliptical, she decides she’s going to have to move apartments.

(Not really. She’d never leave this place, not when it��s a damn good apartment.)

-/-

Emma hates doing honeytraps. They feel demeaning and a little sexist, but they work. She puts on a skintight dress, pushes her boobs up, combs out her hair, and she can get the guys she needs to pay her enough attention that she can easily handcuff them and bring them down to the closest precinct.

Tonight, it went fine. It took her longer to curl her hair than to get the guy to flirt with her at the bar, but on her walk back to her car from the precinct, someone drove by and splashed dirty water all over her. It was a good dress. She should have worn the cheaper one.

It’s long past midnight when she gets back to her apartment, and even though she looks like she’s the one who got arrested tonight, she walks through her lobby, nodding at the night guard, and then heads toward the elevator with her wet shoes in hand. It’s amazing that no one complains about her and gets her kicked out. There’s a group of women in this building who take pride in judging anyone who isn’t just like them, and Emma avoids them at all costs.

Who she can’t seem to avoid, however, is Killian Jones, because he comes sulking in the side door and gets in the elevator at the last moment, sticking his hand through the closing doors until they open back up just for him.

“We have to stop meeting here,” he teases.

“I believe last time we met at the gym.”

“Well, I’d say we’d have to stop meeting there as well, but I’m sure you had a grand time staring at my ass as I ran.”

“Are you always this conceited?”

“Confident.” Emma rolls her eyes as the elevator doors finally close. “Rub some detergent on your stain and then scrub it with a toothbrush before washing it. The stain should come out.”

Emma looks down at her outfit. It’s far beyond the point of repair, especially with a toothbrush. “Uh, thanks.”

“And maybe don’t sleep with a man who ruins your dress like that.”

“Oh, this is from work,” she laughs, adjusting her heels in her hands.

“What in the bloody hell do you do?”

“Bounty hunter, bail bonds, things like that. A little bit of everything. This,” she gestures to her dress, “was an accident from a reckless driver speeding outside the police station.”

“Just who are you, Swan?” Killian asks with a smirk and raised brows. She has a feeling he does that a lot.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

He smiles at her teasing, leaning in that little bit closer to her, and she’s reminded of how small this space is. Emma wants to change the subject from herself, so she quickly asks, “aren’t you a little too overdressed to be coming home from your…stride of pride?”

He smiles and scratches behind his ear. “Coming home from the office, actually.”

“It’s one in the morning.”

The doors open again on his floor and he steps outside, holding his hand to the door. “Work never stops when your boss is an asshole who thinks contract negotiations cannot be handled during normal business hours. See you around, Swan.”

Emma waves and smiles as the doors close again.

-/-

Emma goes weeks without seeing him, and she nearly forgets about the man who keeps seeing her at slightly low points in her life. It all goes on. She goes to work, and since the scumbags are out in full force, she makes enough in a month to cover rent for six months. It feels damn good to be that secure in her life when half a decade ago she never would have been able to consider living in a nice place and knowing she could pay for it. She goes out with her friends, sometimes stays in since David and Mary Margaret are homebodies ever since they decided to try for a baby, which Emma knows way too much about – seriously, Mary Margaret shares details about the positions and tracking apps and womb temperatures, and it’s a great way to make sex seem unappealing – and things get back to normal as winter melts into spring and the miserable chill of Boston fades away.

But then she has a bad day.

“What do you even know about family?”

The words were spit at her as the man ran out of the restaurant in the same way that he’d run out on his family, and even though he’s now going to be held accountable for his actions, nothing about it sat right with Emma. How can you have a family and just leave them? Why do people keep doing that?

So instead of going home, she goes to a bar, ordering a drink and sitting in the corner as she watches other people drink and talk and, quite frankly, dance poorly. It’s entertaining if only because it keeps her mind off her own life, and then she sees him.

He’s in dark jeans and a button-down, black leather jacket still on, and even though he seems to be in a group of friends, Emma walks over to him, tapping him on the shoulder until he turns to look at her with a smirk and a raised brow.

Yep, he definitely does that move a lot.

“Fancy seeing you here, love.”

“I could say the same to you.”

The smirk widens to a smile, and he has ridiculously blue eyes. She didn’t even know that kind of blue was possible in such dark lighting.

“Swan, this is Rob, Will, and Eric. Mates, this is Emma. She lives in my building.”

They all mutter different versions of ‘nice to meet you’ and Emma returns the platitudes. Then Killian orders her another glass of wine while ordering himself some more rum, and instead of sitting alone all night, she sits with him.

And his friends. But she kind of forgets about them as she talks to Killian. He’s charming, funny too, and while she tends to think corporate lawyers must have had their soul sucked away at some point in their lives, she doesn’t think that about him.

She likes him.

It’s a weird feeling after going so long floundering around after Walsh, not sure that any man is capable of keeping her genuinely entertained for more than an hour, but it’s three hours later, and her jaw hurts from smiling. After earlier, she definitely didn’t think she was capable of smiling that much.

Or at all.

At some point, she tells Killian her guilty pleasure food is grilled cheese, as greasy as you can get, and they end up in a small diner with grilled cheese and cups of coffee in front of them. It’s damn good grilled cheese, and after she finishes chewing, she covers her mouth and laughs.

“What?” he asks with his mug in front of his lips.

“You really took me to get grilled cheese as if me liking it was a personality trait.”

His brows raise, little lines raising with them, and he takes another sip of his coffee. “I don’t know about you, but a night out drinking now isn’t the same as when I was twenty-two. You have to do the hangover prep beforehand.”

“Old man.”

He shrugs. “I imagine I’m not much older than you.”

“Yeah, but I can handle my alcohol better.”

“We’ll have to see about that another night.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

They leave the diner and the neon signs behind sometime around three in the morning, and when they get back to their apartment and into the elevator, Emma gets off on the sixth floor instead of the seventh.

-/-

Rule 3: She always gets up and leaves before they wake up, if she falls asleep there at all.

When Emma opens her eyes, she knows she’s failed herself.

The sun is shining through his curtains, indicating that it’s long past her normal escape hours, and even though the view outside is the same as her apartment, she knows that she isn’t in her apartment. Not even close.

Well, geographically speaking, no, she’s actually very close. She’s only one floor below. Her bedroom is right above this, and her bed is in the exact same place.

But her bed is empty, the covers still pulled up, and there isn’t a naked man in it.

Or a naked Emma.

Shit.

Killian’s hand is on her boob, his leg half-draped over hers, and slowly, she moves them both off. She has to go, to get out of her, but just as she’s moving him, he moves himself.

Closer. He moves closer.

“Hmmm, morning,” he hums, flicking his finger against her breast before moving it down over her side and to her hip. His hands are surprisingly calloused for someone who spends all day in an office, but she likes it. She remembers thinking that last night too. “Do you want breakfast? Or do you need to go? Either is fine with me.”

She’s almost offended he gives her choices, but then she realizes what he’s saying. He doesn’t care if she stays or goes, and that makes the ball of anxiety in Emma’s chest get smaller. Emma flips over to face him. His hair is a mess and a red mark is on his cheek. He sleepily grins.

“I need to go. This was great, but it was a one-time thing.”

He flips over on his back and crosses his arms behind his head. The comforter is pulled just low enough on his hips that she can see just enough to entice her to stay, but she doesn’t. She goes, getting dressed as he watches her before awkwardly saying goodbye.

“It’s a stride of pride,” he yells out, his accent thicker than usual, and Emma finds herself smiling as she closes the door behind her.

-/-

Rule 2: They never come back to her place.

Okay, so the thing about Killian living in the apartment below her is that he knows where she lives. And that’s fine. She’s pretty good at reading people, and she didn’t peg him as someone she needed to worry about. From their first meeting, she knows he’s comfortable with one-time things. He’s not going to be someone who tries for more, which is what she’s like.

But now he’s at her door, take-out bag in hand, saying he stopped by after work but decided he didn’t want the grease. Is there any chance she’d like it?

She would.

And despite the fact that she practically raised herself and didn’t exactly teach herself manners, she does have some. So she lets him in, offers him some coffee that he takes, and they sit and talk for awhile, about nothing and everything and all of the other things in between. It’s nice, and it’s not until he takes off his suit jacket and undoes the buttons on his shirt that she remembers that they slept together.

Several times in one night.

Because she’s, well, an idiot.

And now he’s at her place drinking her coffee while she eats food he brought her. It’s all a little too domestic for her, a little too comfortable, so instead of water, she grabs wine to dull her mind.

“You like wine?” Emma asks.

“Love it.”

“Good. Let’s drink.”

Killian chuckles. “Let me finish my coffee first, and then I’ll join you. Mind if we move to the living room?”

She absolutely minds. That’s a horrible, horrible idea.

“Not at all.”

-/-

Rule 1: They are always, always, always one night.

She messed up.

Big time.

Okay, so she’s messed up big time, multiple times.

Because Killian is asleep in her bed with only his boxers on, she’s wearing his shirt like some kind of movie cliché, and there’s a mark on her neck that’s going to require some makeup to hide.

Great. Just great.

It can’t get any worse.

-/-

She offers him breakfast.

He accepts and stays.

Shit.

-/-

Emma’s life is pretty unpredictable. From her job hours to her appetite to the outfits she’s going to wear. She likes it that way. It keeps her from getting bored or thinking too much. She likes not having a routine.

She likes it, and plans on keeping it that way.

But little by little she starts to notice a routine forming.

He’ll show up at her apartment with food. She’ll show up at his with nothing most of the time but sometimes a bottle of wine or rum, since she now knows that’s what he prefers. They talk, they laugh, maybe they watch a little TV, but it always, always, always ends up in the same place.

In bed.

Or on the couch. Once or twice in the kitchen even if that is the devil on her ass and her knees, but in the moment, she’s not thinking too much about that.

Or about how she’s broken every single one of her rules more than once. They are gone, out her window, and she doesn’t know how to get back to them.

Emma doesn’t think she wants to. She likes this arrangement. She’s got a friend and a fuck buddy all in one, and she doesn’t have to go out to find someone. There’s no lingerie or hour’s worth of makeup or heels that hurt her. It’s pajamas and whatever unmatched underwear she happens to have on that day. Killian doesn’t care, and she likes that.

She likes spending time with him.

That was not in the plan.

-/-

There’s a tap on her bedroom floor. Then another one. And another.

Emma picks up her phone.

ES: Are you hitting a broom against your ceiling?

KJ: Yes, come down here.

ES: You come up here.

KJ: No. I need to show you something.

ES: If it’s your dick, I’m not leaving my apartment. I’ve seen it.

KJ: And it’s very impressive, I know. But no, that’s not it.

Emma laughs and rolls off her bed, pulling on boots with her jean shorts and t-shirt. She looks ridiculous, but she doesn’t care. When Killian opens his apartment door, he glances down at her for a moment, but then he’s ushering her inside and shoving a stack of paper in her face.

“What’s this?” Emma asks.

“Read it,” he insists, bouncing on his feet.

Emma reads it, doesn’t understand what the hell any of it means, but there are two very clear words written at the bottom.

Junior Partner.

Holy shit.

“They’re making you partner?” Emma gasps, looking up at him. “Holy shit, Jones!”

“I know,” he laughs. “Who would have thought the arrogant, Navy-educated asshole would make Junior Partner at the ripe old age of thirty-five?”

“Hey, you’re only, like, a minor level asshole.” He rolls his eyes, and Emma drops the paper down before stepping forward and wrapping her arms around his neck. “Congratulations. You deserve it.”

“Oh, I definitely don’t, but if I’ve fooled them into it, I won’t correct them.”

Emma laughs and hugs him tighter as his hands move up and down her back, settling just above her ass. “Should we celebrate?”

“What are you thinking?”

“Go out? Or stay in and eat cake? Sex?”

“There’s a company party at my boss’s house if you’d like to come.”

“All for you?”

“No,” he laughs, kissing her forehead and patting her back once more. “For the fourth tomorrow, but it’s free booze and free food.”

“Then I’m there.”

-/-

Even with the free booze, free food, and ridiculously gigantic pool, Emma kind of regrets coming to this thing. She doesn’t know anyone but Killian, and every single person keeps calling her his girlfriend even when he corrects them.

Emma is definitely not his girlfriend.

But after awhile, there’s only so many times you can deny it, and Killian starts telling people different stories of how they met, making them more ridiculous as he goes along. She doesn’t know how this won’t backfire since he has to work with these people, but he assures her they all work in different departments. He never sees them, and they never see each other.

To one man, they met on a cruise. To another, it was in the buffet line at a shopping center. To someone in accounting, they met at a cooking class where Emma was just struggling so much that he had to come help her out.

She’s offended even if that’s totally what would have happened had she gone to a cooking class.

There are so many different stories and meetings that Emma can’t keep up, especially as she tries to remember names. Eventually she gives up and laughs along at how good of a liar and storyteller that Killian is. She could listen to him do this for hours.

And she does.

The sun starts to set, and they settle on a swing in the backyard, his arm around her shoulder as they sway back and forth. Her skin is sun-kissed, her eyes tired, and she hasn’t felt as content as she is right now in a long damn time.

“This was fun,” she tells Killian.

“Aye,” he agrees, kissing her temple and rubbing his hand up and down her arm. “Thank you for coming with me. I’m sure you had better plans than to come to this.”

“Not a one.”

He raises his brow. “No?”

“Nope. I can’t think of anything better than drinking free alcohol and lying to your coworkers about how we met. None of them know it was because both of us were coming home from one-night stands.”

“And that’s the most romantic one.”

Emma tilts her head back in laughter. “Ah, yes, the old ‘we met after fucking other people.’ A classic love story.”

Killian kicks at the ground to keep them swinging, and Emma pulls her legs up, curling them underneath her. “You know, Swan, that was the best one-night stand of my life.”

“She that good?”

“I don’t even remember her, but I remember running into you. You were, are, gorgeous, and I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Believe it or not, I do fancy you from time to time.”

Emma’s heart is doing something ridiculous, and she doesn’t think she can stop it.

“Is it all the orgasms?”

He laughs at her joke, but he pulls her closer, resting his cheek against her head as they keep moving. “Those are bloody fantastic, but I like other things about you too. I like doing things like this, talking, having a cuddle, watching my boss make an idiot of herself on her diving board. I’d like to do it more often.”

“Are you asking me out on a date?” She’s half-joking, but when she twists her head to look at Killian, she sees that he’s not.

Oh.

“Aye, I am. If you’re amenable to that.”

Emma gulps to get air down in her lungs, and before she can think too much about it, she nods her head and leans up to kiss Killian in a way that she’s never really kissed him before – with no intention of it leading to something more than this, the two of them swaying on a swing wrapped around each other. “I would definitely be.”

“Good. Tomorrow?”

“I’m busy. Going out with a new guy. But maybe another time.”

She knows his eyes roll as he kisses her, and Emma could get used to this.

-/-

New rule: Never, ever, ever kiss anyone but Killian Jones ever again.

Emma thinks she can definitely stick to that rule.

#stride of pride #cs prompts #cs fic #cs ff #cs fanfic #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #captain swan fanfic #captain swan #shireness-says

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krabstick32 · 4 years ago

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Hi! I love your writing so much!!! May I please request a self indulgent giyuu fic where the reader has some self esteem issues, like having long hair to cover most of her face and is plus size but has a good heart! Thank you that would make my life!!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Wardrobe Malfunction

Requested by: anon

Pairing: Giyuu x Reader

Synopsis: Dress up was supposed to be fun. Your clothes say otherwise.

Tags/warnings: This work does have slight implications of self-esteem issues and body dysmorphia/body dysmorphic disorder. I’d like to say that this is not meant to offend anyone, and also to apologize for any faulty interpretations.

A/N: To the anon who requested this: i’m so glad you like my writing 🥺💖 bUT I AM SO SO SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG WITH YOUR REQUEST :(((((( I feel terrible for taking an actual month to finish this, and i’m not even 100% satisfied with it :(( As an explanation though, I was working on something entirely different for you. It was a modern high school au, 5+1 sort of fic, which was almost finished but for some reason felt wrong...so I thought up of a new idea aka this.

Anyway, i hope the wait was worth it anon, and i hope ya’ll enjoy it too!!

Blood Demon Arts were a complicated skill set that special demons possess. Some use it for fighting, some for catching humans, yet some were just downright weird.

A fight with a low-level demon teaches you that.

Barely five minutes into the fight, and you were already sheathing your Nichirin Blade back in its scabbard. You were fine, if not a little uncomfortable from the weird slime-like substance that came from the demon coating your uniform. The fight wasn’t difficult, but the demon was a little perverted. It didn’t even try to fight all that seriously, and instead kept trying to sneak glances under your skirt.

There were only minor scrapes around your skin—though now, you wish you could say the same for your clothes, because it starts melting.

Maybe that demon wasn’t as low-level as you thought because the corps uniform was made to withstand damage from low-level demons, but this odd liquid was enough to let parts of it disintegrate and expose your skin. Fortunately, it didn’t sting, burn or give your skin rashes—only melt off the fabric that covered your decency.

That was your last spare uniform too, because you’ve been sent to a lot of dangerous missions lately. This was the only one you had at home, but thankfully, you’ve placed a quick request for a few new ones to be sent to you.

You were lucky to have been able to beat it, so once you quickly lopped of the stupid demon’s head, you panicked and whistled for your bird to bring in kakushi. You didn’t know if this was Oyakata-sama’s foresight’s work, but you were grateful that three female kakushi pushed through the treeline, and quickly rushed to you once they noticed your predicament. One of them took care of the demon’s remains while the other two moved to you and wrapped you securely in a blanket, protecting your dignity and easing your panic.

Even if you were pretty much healthy and good to go, the girls—Chiyo, Tsune, and Hatsuko were great company as they escorted you back—ushered you to one of the many rooms in the butterfly estate. You argued that you weren’t injured and that you didn’t want to burden the butterfly nurses and the kakushi, but the girls told you that the estate wasn’t too busy, and that there was plenty of room for you.

The room was standard with a cot, a bedside table, and a few chairs for visitors, where a spare set of clothes for you was folded over. You were fine, but you were still grateful for the short time you could use for rest and for the girl’s thoughtfulness. Spending the time worrying about what you wear on your next mission would be a waste, so you lie down and try to close your eyes instead, to calm down your nerves.

The sound of shuffling doors brings you out of your light nap just in time to see a head of jet-black hair pop in.

A smile makes its way across your face as you watch your boyfriend slide the door close as quietly as possible. Giyuu looked good—clothes the same, hair unruly with the bare thread of his hair tie attempting to keep it tame—but what was new was the small package under his arm.

“Are you feeling okay?” He asks when he sees you sitting up, and takes a seat on the nearest chair. Your smile sweetens when he looks back up, feeling your heart beat a little faster as his eyes soften out of its usual steely, and impassive gaze.

Dragging your mind out of its haze, you wave off his concern and reply, “Oh, this is just a formality—I’m fine.” Well, physically you were, but you’re reminded that all is not well when he glances around the room only to find the folded tatters of what remains of your previous clothing sitting innocently on the bedside table. “Wish I could say the same about my uniform though.”

“This should solve that.” Giyuu hands you the mysterious package and it gives you a moment to notice how nicely it was wrapped.

Lightly, you run your fingers over the black ink your name was written in, on a small tag attached to the white twine wrapping around brown packing paper. The twine intersects in a small tied ribbon right at the middle, and is sealed with a piece of wax stamped with the corps’ insignia. “Ah, is that why you’re here?”

“No, I was on my way to see you when I heard you were here. That—” He gestures with his chin “—I just brought in from the kakushi.”

You choose to ignore the way your cheeks flush when he mentions his intentions and instead show surprise. With how busy the kakushi were, you were pleasantly surprised that it took them only four days to make your uniform. “Oh, thanks, that was fast of them.”

“It’s your uniform right? I can wait outside so you can try it on.”

Already flustered from his previous responses, you try to answer, “Ah, yeah, yes. Thanks, I’ll just—um, yeah.” Only to sound like a bumbling idiot. Eloquent as always.

Embarrassed by your mess of a mouth, you look down at your hands and feel your hair come to cover your heated face. Looking at him in the eye right now would reduce you to a pile of flaming ashes, so you’re grateful your long hair has saved you yet again from his piercing stare.

Before Giyuu leaves though, you hear a light chuckle until he’s gone and you’re left with the sound of the door sliding back shut and the thought of how unfair it is that he can easily get you to smile and then flustered at the next second.

The moment you let the uniform unfold, something tells you that there was something…wrong. For one, there were too many holes in it—one on each shoulder, and an entire chunk around the stomach. The fabric felt silkier than what you previously had—even the skirt was much, much shorter than what you remember requesting for.

But a quick double check on the wrapping paper confirms that this was your uniform, so you try it on. It’s been a while since you’ve ordered a new one, maybe you just…weren’t used to it? Or maybe there were new rules in place?

If it wasn’t already bad when you first looked at it, it was even worse when you were wearing it.

How is this even supposed to protect me?

The only thing covered was your chest (not even counting the skin in the middle!), your forearms, and half your thighs. The uniform was too revealing and boy, did you want to crawl in a hole right now. You felt exposed—too exposed. You've rarely felt good in your own body, and now was no exception.

Just the thought of somebody else seeing you like this? What would they think?

A pit forms in your stomach, and something black and slimy wraps around your shoulders and around your neck. You feel constricted, like you couldn’t move or breathe, and your nails were digging in too hard into the clammy skin of your palms.

You weren’t like Mitsuri or Shinobu. You didn’t have a great figure like the love pillar, or a petite frame like the insect pillar. Instead, you found yourself staring into a mirror more often than you’d like, only to feel disappointed in your oversized body. In fact, you’re extremely lucky to have gone this far without a demon catching up to you given how slow you feel your body makes you.

You shouldn’t be crying over this—it was childish to throw a fit over something like this, but you feel horrible.

A knock from the door interrupts your thoughts and Giyuu’s voice carries over through the wooden door.

“(F/N), are you okay? Should I get Shinobu?”

No, he can’t see me like this.

Quickly, you scramble back to the bed where you placed your hospital clothes, and yank the stupid uniform you requested off your body and shove it under the bed. “Ah, no! I-I’m fine, I’m just changing again!”

You slip the button through the last opening and walk towards the door to let Giyuu back in.

Maybe I should send him back?

You could say that you were feeling sleepy or that you weren’t feeling too good, but he came all this way and… or maybe he was here to see someone else? You were his girlfriend, but that didn’t mean he was automatically here for your company.

You were too far gone in your own fears that you completely forgot that you were the reason why he was even here in the first place.

Hopefully, he leaves without question. Your hair will hide your face so he shouldn’t notice how it was burning or how there were small drops of tears in your eyes. But this was Giyuu, the Water Pillar, one of the strongest demon slayers in the entire corps, and your boyfriend. Nothing gets past him, especially if it concerns you.

He doesn’t even get through the threshold before he notices. “He—(F/N), what’s wrong?”

“...It’s nothing,” You say, angling your face away from you. I just feel tired all of a sudden. How about we see each other tomorrow? If you’re free of course. I know how busy you can get.” And you rarely saw each other too. It was a shame your issues just had to swoop right in.

“It’s fine with me if that’s what you really want, but are you sure it’s nothing?”

You feel warm fingers caress your chin before his hand moves back up to cup your cheek, and that’s when your walls chip and break. You lean into his touch and peek through your bangs to see a soft look in his eyes—a look you only ever saw on the rare chances you catch him looking at you or when he had a plate of freshly-cooked salmon daikon.

“You can tell me anything if you want to, I’ll listen.”

Of course you knew you could tell him anything, but actually telling him about something so stupid had you fidgeting with the hem of your sleeve. “I know this will sound stupid, but my uniform is wrong.”

“The uniform?”

Further hunching in on yourself, your body starts sweating, and you feel like your tears were about to spill over. “It looks terrible. There was no fabric around my entire stomach, it only covered half my things and—! Ugh, I know, I know it’s really childish of me to be complaining so much about it but I didn’t feel comfortable in it at all. I hate it—” and i hate my body “—It doesn’t look right on me, I’m too big for it.”

You breathe out a small sigh and look down at the floor. Melting through the floorboards sounded nice. “Maybe it’s just my fault—if I was thinner or prettier it would probably fit me better. I don’t know…I thought it would be similar to what I had before.”

“...Look at me,” Giyuu says after a while, and takes your hands when you don’t seem to reply any time soon. “Do you trust me?”

Immediately, you look up to him and answer with no hesitation. “With my life.”

“Then I hope you’ll believe me when I say that it's not your fault.” His lips curl slightly upward when your gaze moves from the floor to him. He’s glad that he caught your attention, because he wants you to see how much he means the words he’s about to say.

“I don’t care if you’re thinner, or prettier or about anything else. As long as you’re happy, healthy, and alive, it’s more than enough.” Giyuu places his forehead against yours, and for a moment, you forget why you’re worrying so much.

“To me, You’re the kindest, prettiest, most perfect person in my eyes, and I hope you see yourself the way I do. You have a heart of gold, and you’re plenty perfect just the way you are. You don’t need to change for anything or anyone.”

Giyuu wasn’t really good with words, and he knew that. In fact, at the moment you were seeking comfort, he was in over his head. He thought he was being redundant and talking himself in circles, so he did panic a little when the tears started slipping from your eyes. Panic changed into relief though when you wrap your arms around his torso.

You were well-aware that he wasn’t good with words, so you were caught off-guard by the reassurances he was giving you. You never knew how much you needed to hear those from him, to be reminded that he liked you just as you are.

As easily frazzled you were with a somewhat constant need for reassurance, you’ve gotten used to the fact that receiving verbal assurance from him would be rare if not nonexistent. So you’ve gotten used to his quiet support. He was always there when you needed him, and tried to comfort you the best way he knew how. You appreciated it, and even came around to care for his silent quirks, but hearing him say how much you meant to him, was incredibly comforting, and

“If you hate your uniform, I've heard that Shinobu had problems with hers too at first so I'm sure we can ask Shinobu what she did with hers. I can even place a request for a new one for you.”

Giyuu was never very good with words, but he always made it up with his actions.

“That would be nice.”

BONUS:

You really appreciated that Giyuu was with you the entire time your horrible uniform was alive on this earth. As promised, he helped you handle the uniform issue, and came with you to Shinobu’s office (who was more than willing to hand you the oil and matches).

“Oh? (F/N)-chan? Tomioka-san?” She greets when she ushers you two in her office. “I haven’t seen you two in a while! I’m surprised Tomioka-san is here with you though. I thought he avoided social interaction?.”

Giyuu grumbles at her teasing, but you know these two were friends, even if both of them didn’t want to admit it. “I’m still here.”

You squeeze your boyfriend’s hand, before smiling sheepishly at Shinobu. “It’s been a busy few weeks. We should catch up sometime, but that’s not really why we’re here.”

The Insect Pillar tilts her head in curiosity, and asks, “Oh? Then how can I be of service?”

“Well, you see, all of my uniforms were ruined from my past missions, so I requested for a new one, but um…” Giyuu handed you the clothes you’ve placed back in the wrapping paper which you bring out and let unfold to show Shinobu how it was clearly not your style.

Air seems to freeze over as the seconds tick by with your ‘uniform’ hanging from your hands.

Giyuu was standing behind you, so you couldn’t exactly see his reactions, but you could see how Shinobu’s ever-present smile turned sinister, and looked like she was ready to stab someone with her sword.

“I think they got my size wrong. Giyuu told me that you mentioned having the same problem before, so I was hoping you could tell me how you got yours fixed.”

Without any hesitation whatsoever, Shinobu’s smile stays eerily plastered on her face, “Oh, it’s simple! You can just burn yours. Don’t worry, I burned mine too and I lent the oil and matches to Kanao and Aoi, so you don’t have to feel bad—I’m more than willing to lend you the oil and matches I used. How about I join you two to go to the kakushi? I have a vague idea of who the tailor might be.”

As per Giyuu’s words, It wasn’t your fault. One of the kakushi in charge of making the uniforms was too blame and decided to take some… creative liberties with yours.

When Giyuu saw the scraps of cloth Maeda-san—or scum-glasses as everyone promptly nicknamed him— back in Shinobu’s office, you thought his face didn’t change or move an inch. Shinobu wanted to laugh, because unlike typical Giyuu fashion, everyone who saw him the entire day could see the pulsing vein on his temple that seemed like it would pop any minute. It was clear that he was pissed off, as he handed you the oil to douse the clothes in and gave a readily lit match, but she found it a little sweet that he was a bit more transparent when it came to you.

After the fabric was reduced to ashes in front of Maeda-san, a new agreement was made about your uniform, and as a temporary solution, Giyuu lent you a few of his spare uniforms for you to wear on duty. You had plenty of kimonos and hakamas to wear, but you primarily wore those for training and didn't particularly provide the same protection the corp’s issued uniform did.

It was a little tight around your chest and your hips, and a bit too long for your arms and legs, but you could still move around comfortably without busting a button, so you took it gratefully, and wore it for the week your uniform was being made.

He was with you when your new uniform arrived. The two of you were eating snacks on the Water Estate’s engawa when a kakushi—in a nice surprise it was Tsune—dropped by with a new package, similar to the one Giyuu handed you before. You thanked them and hurriedly went in one of the empty rooms to change, leaving Giyuu to drink his tea alone as he waits for your return

“Giyuu!” You call as you join him back on the engawa. He turns only to be blinded when he sees you smiling to high heaven. “Look, it’s perfect! They got the measurements right this time.”

The uniform you wore right now was just like your old one, and he could see that it clearly made you happy. You even twirl in place, gleefully modeling your new skirt and uniform blouse to him.

“I’m grateful you lent me your uniform, but I;m more used to wearing skirts.” Laughing lightly, you look down at your clothes, carefully running your fingers across the fabric. “I’m so glad this one’s perfect!”

Without an ounce of shame or hesitation, Giyuu tilts his head towards you and says, “You’re the one who’s perfect.”

Oh my god, your heart is going to explode.

Looking down at your tabi socks, you let your hair fall over your face, if only to hide the red flush on your skin. “Giyuu, are you sweet talking me right now?”

“No, I’m being honest.” From the sound of his voice, he was being one hundred percent, and a quick look on his face confirms it, even if there was a little mischievous glint in his eyes. He knew you were getting flustered and in extension, knew what he was doing to you.

You sit down at your previous spot right beside him before taking your teacup from where you placed it on the tray to hide the small smile on your lips. “Okay, okay, you can stop now, you’ve made your point.”

“But I’m serious, you look perfect.” Giyuu leans over, wrapping an arm around your waist and places a soft kiss on your cheek. He tugs you closer to lean against him and watches how your skin changes into a deeper red. It makes him think that he should voice his thoughts about you more often.

“Ah, Giyuu! Stop it!” You giggle, but ultimately return the favor, peppering his face in kisses and smiling at him in a way that makes his heart beat faster.

He may have been a little sad that you won’t be wearing his clothes anytime soon now, but seeing you comfortable and smiling…

Well, that was more than enough for him.

A/N: A gentle reminder to those who reached the end: please know that you are a beautiful and wonderful person. You are loved, you are valued, and have people who care for you, okay?

A huge thank you for reading! online classes are being a little pain, so even if I really missed writing (and reading) fanfics, I might be a little rusty :(( hopefully ya’ll enjoyed it 🥺

Again, to the anon who requested this, i am so so sorry that it took me this long. i hope you still liked it tho 🥺🥺 (i also might post that modern hs au i was talking about earlier, so keep your eyes peeled for that <3)

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aspiringauthorintraining · 4 years ago

Text

Volleyball Actually: Scene 1

You really hoped the lady at the information desk had given you the correct directions to the Black Jackals’ practice court, because your arms were about to fall off any second from all the bags in your hands. Not to mention your face mask was making your panting worse.

‘Next time, order delivery, (Y/N),’ you advised yourself, pushing the entrance door to the court with a shoulder.

But before you could even fully step inside, a chirpy voice went ahead and announced your presence. "Senpai!"

A tuft of orange bounced up and down in your peripheral, waving its arms haphazardly at you. The bouncing ball of orange turned out to be Hinata Shoyo, the newest member of the MSBY Black Jackals V.League Division 1 team, as he raced over to engulf you in a tight, air squeezing hug.

You struggled to return the sentiment, trying not to hit him with the multiple bags in your hands.

“Senpai, I can’t believe you came!” Hinata exclaimed, helping to unload the bags off your hands, placing them on the floor.

“Of course! I did promise you after all.” You surprisingly found yourself craning your neck slightly to look at his ecstatic face. “Did you get taller Shoyo?”

Hearing your words, he puffed his chest out proudly, straightening his posture. “I’m 172.4 cm now!”

You couldn’t help but smile at him. “Now you’re taller than me! I guess I can't give you head pats anymore." An unconscious slight frown crept onto your face, replacing the smile.

“You can still pat my head, senpai!” Hinata refuted, grabbing your hand and using it to pat himself on the head. “I can just lean down for you, like this.”

You laughed at his solution, rewarding his quick thinking with a proper patting. Even though he grew from his height in high school, he still acted like the cute first-year you had met for the first time in the Karasuno gymnasium during your third-year in high school.

When satisfied with the amount of head pats he received, he proceeded to ask, “What are those bags for, senpai?”

“Oh, these are for you and your teammates! I figured you guys hadn’t had lunch yet because of practice.” You responded with a sheepish smile when he asked what food you brought. “I’m not really familiar with the area around here but I did want to bring something nourishing, and thought about what I could buy that wouldn’t get cold easily. And a friend recommended Miya’s Onigiri, since it’s within walking distance from your gym, plus there’s no msg in any of the menu items. He also mentioned some famous volleyball player always eats onigiri before a big game?” You shrugged, not being able to give him the name of the said mysterious onigiri-loving volleyball player. You didn't know nor were you really interested in finding out. “So I’m hoping it’ll be okay for you guys to eat too.”

All the eavesdropping ears on the court perked up at the mention of the food.

“We can definitely eat onigiri, especially if it’s from Miya’s Onigiri.” Hinata assured your worry. “But I still would have eaten anything you brought, senpai.”

His sweet words put a smile on your face, mirroring the one he had on already.

“Shoyo-kun, aren’t you going to introduce us?” One of his members interjected from behind, grabbing both your attentions.

“Ah, of course! Senpai, this is the MSBY Black Jackals team.”

Most of the players were new faces to you, and you made a mental note to memorize their names starting from now on. But luckily, there was one member you wouldn't need to memorize, having already met him a few years back.

“Hey, hey, hey!”

“Hey, hey, hey!” You repeated back to the ace. “How have you been, Bokuto-senshu?”

You swore his hair deflated immediately at the sound of your greeting.

“What happened to calling me Ko-chan?”

“Oh um… I mean it’s been forever since we’ve seen each other. And it would be rude of me to call you that, now that you’re a professional athlete and all.”

“Once a friend, always a friend!” he exclaimed. His hair now resembled a dying fern. His natural hair color really helped with the imagery.

With many years passed since you last saw the athlete, you weren't sure whether Bokuto still had his emo side or not. But today was not the day you were going to find out. So, to quickly appease him, you nodded your head in agreement, replying, “Of course, Ko-chan.”

At your words, his hair rose back to its original form, along with the smile on his face. It made you curious to what his hair would look like in the rain, if he was in a good mood. Would his good mood cancel out the rain and cause his hair to withstand gravity? Or would it be flat like any other normal person?

You made a mental note to ask Hinata later through text.

Bokuto, who was oblivious to the scientific theories, pertaining to his hair, roaming around in your head, directed his gaze to the bags of food mentioned earlier, licking his lips in anticipation.

The rest of the team were also looking at you expectantly, reminding you of hungry baby birds, waiting in their nest for their mama bird to give them food. Realizing that they were patiently waiting for you to hand out the food, you moved with haste to unfurl the tied bags, taking out the multiple bentos of onigiri and the drinks you had brought for the team. Hinata volunteered to help you hand out the boxes, since you had written each member's name on a box. You had also included a small note reading, “Please take good care of our Shoyo-senshu! ♡＾▽＾♡” along with a wet wipe and a small bottle of hand sanitizer with each box. It was flu season after all, and you didn’t want to be the cause for any of them getting sick before the big game.

One of the members; Sakusa-senshu, you think was his name, took a moment to stare intently at the wet wipe packet and bottle of sanitizer on top of his box in silence, before giving you the nod of approval. You gave Hinata a questioning look, but he was too busy guiding you to the next name on the box to notice.

After you both had finished handing out the rest of the boxes, you surprised Hinata with a big bag, instead of a bento box like the others. Motioning for him to take the bag, he opened it to find it full of healthy snacks, sports drinks, as well as his own bento box. A small folded letter stood out from the rest of the contents in the bag though, grabbing his attention.

“Shoyo! ^^

Welcome home Shoyo! I’m so proud of you, and of all the hard work and effort you’ve put in to get to where you are now. I know it wasn’t easy living halfway around the world by yourself, in an unfamiliar environment with unfamiliar people. Now I can tell you that I lied when I said I wasn't crying when you called me that time, crying about missing Japan and everyone, even Tobio. Sorry for lying. I didn't want to ever make you feel bad about calling me. I do hope the snacks and care packages I sent you during your time in Brazil helped with your homesickness though, even if it was just a tiny bit. But regardless, I always knew if anyone could do it, it would be you. I’m so happy you’re back home with us now; we all missed you so much (Tobio and Kei will never admit it but they missed you too). And whether you’re Ninja Shoyo, MSBY Black Jackals Hinata-senshu, or first-year Hinata Shoyo from Karasuno, you’ll always be an amazing volleyball player to me. I'll always be here cheering you on from the sidelines, so don’t forget about me when you become a world famous pro. Good luck in your new job, Hinata-senshu. Show the world what it means to fly in the court.

Your #1 fan,

(Y/N)-senpai.

Hinata continued to look down, even after having finished reading the letter in his hands.

“Sho-chan?”

He looked up at the sound of your call, responding to your question with glistening eyes and clutching the letter close to his chest.

“Shoyo?” you panic. “What’s wrong?!”

“I missed you too, senpai!” he wailed, grabbing the attention of the other members who had already started eating. “I-I won’t let you down! I’ll be the best volleyball player and make you proud!”

“Oh, um thank you, Shoyo. Now please stop crying!” you begged, feeling your own eyes moisten. “It wasn’t my intention for you to cry.”

The Black Jackals captain, Meian Shugo, watched the scene before him with a smile, chuckling at the two of you: their newest and youngest player crying his eyes out and you frantically trying to calm your kouhai down with teary eyes of your own.

Not knowing what else to do to get him to stop crying, you could only pat Hinata’s head gently and looked to the rest of his members for help.

To your relief, the other resident happy virus came quickly to your aid. “(Y/N)-chan, Shoyo, come sit down and eat with us!”

While you led the sniffling Hinata over to the Bokuto and the others, a loud growl erupted from his stomach, reminding him of how hungry he was.

“See, even your stomach is telling you to stop crying.” You teased, plopping down on the floor and patting the space next to you for Hinata to sit. “Let’s eat before the food gets cold.”

You finally got Hinata to stop crying and start eating his food, and soon he was back to smiling like he hadn't just made a scene in the middle of the gym minutes prior.

"Fy aren't chu eating, shenpai?" Hinata asked, his mouth full of food. "Fere's shtill mm bento lef."

Sakusa reacted to his response with a disgusted face, immediately scooting away from the newbie.

"I already had lunch before coming over. That reminds me though, is someone missing from your team? There shouldn't have been any bentos left."

Bokuto hummed at your question, gobbling down a rice ball before answering. “Kiyoomi kicked ‘Tsumu out of practice for not getting his flu shot, saying he didn’t want to be near a virus hub. So he’s getting his flu shot right now, so he can come back to practice.”

His explanation made your recent interaction with Sakusa more sense now. You made another mental note to remember to bring wipes and sanitizer when visiting Hinata, so that you wouldn't get kicked out by Sakusa.

~~~~~~~

When it was time for the team to get back to practice, the players helped you collect all the trash to throw away on your way out. You saw Hinata rushing out the door, after placing his empty bento in the trash bag and didn't give it much thought, thinking he had to go to the bathroom. But as you took a look around the gym for any missed trash to make sure the place looked clean like the way when you had first come in, you saw Hinata skipping towards you, now clutching a phone in his hand.

“Senpai, let’s take a picture! I want to remember the day you came to visit me!"

You smiled at his request, nodding in agreement. “Sure, Shoyo.”

What started out being just a selfie with Hinata and yourself, somehow turned into a mini photoshoot with the rest of the MSBY team, after Bokuto begged to be in the picture as well- roping in the rest of the team into the picture, including a somewhat reluctant Sakusa.

Director's Cut:

“Hey Shoyo, who’s this in the picture next to you?” Atsumu asked, seeing the new picture pop up on his feed.

“Oh, it’s Shoyo’s old manager. She brought all of us lunch! That’s yours.” Bokuto replied instead, pointing to the bento left on the bleachers.

“Yeah, isn’t she really pretty?” Hinata added, smiling at the picture on Atsumu’s phone. His eyes soon grew wide, after seeing the amount of hearts below the picture. “Woah, I never received so many likes on a picture before! Ooh, I should send this to Kageyama! He always brags about (Y/N)-senpai visiting him during practice. Now it's my turn."

While Hinata was preoccupied with figuring out how to send the picture to Kageyama, Atsumu continued staring at the photo.

“I'm surprised there's so many likes when I'm not even in the photo.”

Taking closer look at the photo, his eyes zeroed in on your face for a while.

“You know, she looks familiar.”

“Hmm? Do you know (Y/N)-senpai? I asked her if she knew anyone on our team and she only recognized Bokuto-san.”

“Eh, she didn’t know who I was? Yet, she bought food from Miya’s Onigiri?”

“Guess you’re not so popular as you thought.” Sakusa retorts from his stretching position.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!#Haikyu!!#haikyū!!#haikyuu x you #haikyuu imagine #msby black jackals imagine #msby black jackals x you #schweiden adlers imagine #schweiden adlers x you #schweiden adlers x reader #no beta we die like daichi lol

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