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paperultra · 1 year ago

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THE FIVE NONSENSES

[ SOULMATE!AU ] Pairing: Miya Osamu x Fem!Reader x Miya Atsumu Summary: Like most people, you do not meet the Miya twins so much as they are thrust upon you. Unlike most people, you are thrust upon them as well. read on ao3 | read on quotev

CHAPTER THREE: SMELL Word Count: 8,205 words Warnings: Swearing

“Hey, you! Join the photography club!”

You narrowly dodge the flyer thrust in front of your face, knocking back into someone in the process. Flustered, you move in the opposite direction, only to knock shoulders with another student walking the other way. Both of your apologies get lost in the noise.

“Join the basketball team! Winter Cup finalists two years in a row!”

“Improve your focus in calligraphy club!”

“Join kyudo club!”

“Join marching band!”

With a small huff, you grab the strap of Osamu’s schoolbag and squeeze through the crowd. Osamu looks over his shoulder at you, and you meet his raised eyebrow with a grimace; not long after, a hand presses between your shoulder blades to usher you forward.

“Dammit,” Atsumu grumbles, digging his phone out of his pocket. “Where’s the volleyball club?”

“Hell if I know,” Osamu says. “Call Aran.”

“’S what I’m doin’, dumbass.” Punching a few buttons, the other boy presses his phone against his ear with visible impatience. “Aran!” Your cheeks burn with embarrassment as Atsumu’s voice carries high over the clamor surrounding you, causing several students to swivel their heads. “Where the hell’s the volleyball club? … Class 1-7? Seriously?”

Hanging up without so much as a thank-you, Atsumu quickens his stride down the congested hallway. Osamu follows suit, and you end up seizing the back of his blazer as the three of you head to Class 1-7, evading arms and signs and flyers the entire way.

Having visited the school before to watch Ojiro play, you had known that Inarizaki High School is big; navigating it as a student on the first day of school, however, is a whole different animal. You hadn’t realized it was this big. Or this crowded. After a year of being large fish in a small pond, you now find yourselves in an ocean.

At least you have the twins to rough it with.

(It should be noted that your thankfulness varies wildly from hour to hour.)

Near the entrance to Class 1-7, you spot Ojiro wielding a bright sign advertising the volleyball club. He easily stands head and shoulders above most of the other students, and the sight of a familiar face helps you relax – even though you’d just seen him at graduation a few weeks ago, he somehow looks older here, comfortable and self-assured in the raucous halls of Inarizaki.

“Yo! Aran!” Osamu and Atsumu call out, running up to the second-year. You, still holding onto Osamu’s blazer, are unceremoniously yanked along.

Ojiro perks up and grins widely when you all reach him, freeing one hand to bump fists with the twins. “’Bout time you guys showed up. Thought ya chickened out or somethin’,” he exclaims, then nods at you with a grin. “Good to see you here too, [L/n]-chan.”

You smile back. “Hi, Ojiro-senpai.”

(Of all the people the twins consider friends, which have always been rather scant in number, you like Ojiro Aran the best.)

“Chickened out?” Atsumu scoffs. “No way. You scrubs are gonna need us if ya wanna win nationals this year.”

A laugh bursts out of Ojiro’s chest. “Don’t ya think you’re gettin’ a little ahead of yerself?”

“Yeah, well, what’s new?” Osamu pipes up. He elbows his brother’s side, jabbing a thumb at the doorway when the latter chokes up and glares. “Hurry yer ass up, ‘Tsumu, we haven’t even signed up yet.”

You cough. Ojiro laughs again, leading the three of you into the classroom.

There’s a ton of students already inside when you enter. In one corner of the room is the girls’ volleyball club, and in the other is the boys’, though many are mingling and wandering around to chat. A few are upperclassmen wearing the Inarizaki volleyball team’s jacket – the rest, you assume, are first-years hoping for a chance to join.

It’s not surprising for a school that’s gone to the Spring Tournament almost thirty times. Most of these applicants will be benched for their entire high school career.

Following Ojiro to the desk for the boys’ volleyball club, you encounter the two people sitting behind it.

“Arata-senpai, Kobayashi-senpai,” Ojiro announces, clapping one hand on Osamu’s shoulder and the other on Atsumu’s, “got a package deal for ya.”

The first thing you notice about Arata is how tall he is when he’s sitting down. Then he slowly stands up, and your eyes widen as he keeps going and going, finally stopping about half a head taller than Ojiro.

Arata breathes in, vulpine eyes narrowing, before he slams his hands down on the desk with a loud thwap.

“If it ain’t the Miya twins!” he chirps, voice much peppier than expected, and you choke back a surprised laugh. “I watched yer match last year at nationals. You two think ya have what it takes to be part of a powerhouse?”

“Why talk big when we can just show ya, senpai?” Atsumu says, as if he hadn’t been gassing himself up to Ojiro moments before. He pulls out his signup sheet, already filled out in his usual large, messy print, and slides it over to the captain, leaning over the desk with one hand on his hip. “Got yers, ’Samu?”

“Yup.” Osamu slides his over as well, handwriting slightly neater.

Arata takes the sheets happily. Your gaze falls upon his hands by chance, and then it remains there, taking stock of the scribbles of purple and red decorating his skin.

Ojiro whistles. “Looks like yer soulmate’s havin’ fun with some gel pens,” he comments, pointing at Arata’s hands.

“Hm?” The other boy blinks and takes a moment to inspect the words curving below his knuckles. His brow furrows, and he squints before finally breaking out into a goofy smile. “Ah,” he says, and his voice takes on a distinctly fonder, dreamier tone, “guess they are. They’ve been practicin’ hiragana a lot lately. See? Pretty good, eh?” Arata stretches his hands out face-down, showing them off.

(You can barely read the characters.)

“Neat,” Atsumu says, though his tone has flattened just slightly.

“Right?” Arata doesn’t seem to notice. “We’re gonna finally see each other in person next summer after I graduate. They’re graduating high school this June in Spain …”

“He’s really excited,” Ojiro mutters to the three of you, “in case ya couldn’t tell.”

The volleyball captain’s cheeks turn an endearing shade of pink. “What’s wrong with that, huh, Ojiro? I’m gonna spend the rest of my life with them, so it’s a good sign I’m lookin’ forward to it.”

Next to you, Osamu shifts and shoves his hands into the pockets of his pants. You feel his elbow brush against your arm, bare skin separated by layers of fabric.

The rest of your life.

A strange feeling forms in the pit of your stomach. It’s the same kind you get whenever your parents ask about Osamu, and whenever you see couples wearing matching outfits at the mall – a feeling a little less than longing, and a little more than guilt. Like you ought to be doing more, saying more, expressing more. Feeling more.

You wonder what it is like to be Arata, infatuated, proudly flaunting the colors on his hands.

The girl sitting at the desk finally speaks up.

“I thought we were talkin’ about volleyball, not yer love life, Arata.”

Your gaze moves away from Arata’s wrists and onto the girl.

Still sitting, she and the captain paint a picture of a mouse and an elephant, her tiny form complemented by large, expressionless eyes and a small nose. The maroon jacket hanging off her shoulders looks one size too big.

And yet, when her gaze flicks over and meets yours, you’re overtaken by a sudden chill.

Scary.

Arata jumps and glances down at her. “O-Oh, right! Sorry, Kobayashi-chan, I guess I got carried away.”

“It’s fine.” Kobayashi continues to stare at you, and you start to feel slightly uncomfortable. “’S why I’m here.”

“Yeah!” Coughing, Arata rubs the back of his neck and turns his attention back to the twins. “Gettin’ back on track … if it isn’t obvious already, Kobayashi-chan is our manager. She’s real good. Real detailed.”

“But I’m also in my third year, which means we’re currently lookin’ for a new manager for next year,” Kobayashi supplies. “So if ya happen to know any first-years who’re qualified and willing to apply for the right reasons, please let me know.”

Your brow furrows at that.

“Whaddaya mean, ‘the right reasons’?” Osamu asks.

A sheepish laugh escapes Arata’s throat. “Well … the volleyball team’s pretty popular, so we get a lot of folks wantin’ to be manager just to get closer to the team and see if one of the members is their soulmate.” He sighs. “It’s not that I wanna keep any soulmates apart, but those kinds of applicants slow down the search, and obviously, we want a manager who actually wants to manage.”

Ah. Already, some of your peers already seem like they’re on a time crunch to find their person. Soulmates are getting to be a bigger and bigger deal as you get older, and with that comes certain expectations. It’s not hard to figure out why some would hope to have someone popular and athletic.

“Sorry, don’t know anybody like that,” Atsumu replies at the same time Ojiro says your name.

You look at your senior, surprised.

He directs a finger upwards. “Ya know volleyball pretty well,” he points out. “Wanna apply? You already manage the twins, after all.”

“Oi, what’s that s’posed to mean –”

Arata seems to finally notice you, eyebrows raising. “Oh! Sorry, didn’t see ya there,” he exclaims. “What’s yer name?”

Reluctantly, you step up next to Osamu and introduce yourself.

“[L/n]-chan. So ya know the twins?”

“I’ve lived on the same street as them since elementary school.”

“Really! Ya must know them well, then.”

“More than well,” says Kobayashi.

She points down at your hand. Arata follows her finger, and you resist the urge to curl your pinkie when his mouth drops.

“Oh, damn, you’re soulmates with – er, uh –”

Osamu and Atsumu just stand there, watching the captain flounder. After a few seconds, you reach up and tug Osamu’s earlobe sharply.

“Osamu,” you say, both as an answer and as a scolding, ignoring the muttered ‘ow’ coming from your right.

Clapping his hands, Arata nods. “You’re soulmates with Osamu-kun! Wow, that’s amazing. And you’ve been together since elementary school? He’d think and play better with you just bein’ there.”

You smile, embarrassed.

“That doesn’t make her the right candidate, Arata,” says Kobayashi. “Even if she really wants to manage the team, she might still prioritize Osamu-kun over everybody else. The last thing I want is a manager who picks favorites.”

She says it so bluntly, so seriously. Your smile weakens as her words hit a sore spot you didn’t know you even had.

There must be a good way to disagree. The two truths of the matter are that being a good manager would mean risking being a bad soulmate, and that being a good manager is a risk you can afford. Osamu isn’t the type of person who needs to be worried about. He gets scraped up, but he doesn’t mind it, and he knows his limits. If a player got hurt right as Osamu called you for something, you know you’d check on the other player first. Even if the other player was Atsumu. (Maybe.)

Osamu simply does not need you to take care of him. You don’t know how to express this without seeming like you don’t care as much as you should.

Atsumu cuts in before you can organize your thoughts into words.

“She wouldn’t,” he says, “unless it’s me. But ’Samu and I are soulmates, so we’re already at our best when we’re on the court.”

The upperclassmen before you tilt their heads simultaneously.

“… Wait,” Arata says after a while, slowly. “You’re tellin’ me that Osamu-kun has two soulmates?”

Osamu glances at you, eyes half-lidded, and you can only meet his eyes for a few seconds before you have to look at the ground.

“Guess I’m favored,” Osamu replies.

“Wow.” Huffing out a laugh, Arata crosses his arms. “Two soulmates … huh. I wonder how that works …” Kobayashi grunts and he clears his throat. “S-Sorry. Anyway, [L/n]-chan, if you’re interested in the manager position, just fill this out and give it to Kobayashi-chan. We’re taking applications until July first or until we find someone, whichever comes first.”

He hands you a sheet of paper, and you take it tentatively.

“My phone number’s at the top in case you have any questions,” Kobayashi adds. Her voice lowers, but its monotony remains. “And if ya end up applying, know that I won’t show any favoritism just because of yer soulmate.”

You take in a breath through your nose, fingers curling into the application in your hands. “Yeah, of course.”

She nods once, then leans back in her seat. The set of her mouth relaxes just slightly, and she crosses her arms, morphing from a cutthroat manager to a tired senpai.

“See ya after school. Good luck,” she says. Her eyes bore into yours. “To all of ya.”

There’s a moment of silent surprise between you, Osamu, and Atsumu. Then all three of you bow as Ojiro and Arata chuckle.

“Thank you!”

—

The twins, predictably, become one of three first-year regulars on Inarizaki’s boys’ volleyball team. You place your manager application in the top drawer of your desk, which you pull out frequently over the next three weeks just to stare at the blank form, unsure about the whole thing.

Saturday afternoon rolls around, and you’ve taken the paper out of your binder and set it on top of your desk at home when your phone buzzes.

Osamu: you home

You: yeah

Osamu: ok

And that’s it. You stare at your screen for a few seconds, unblinking, before you shoot up from your seat and scramble to your dresser to get changed.

Five minutes and a bit of haphazard cleaning later, there’s a few firm knocks on the front door, followed by incessant banging. You stalk over to open the door before it’s knocked off its hinges.

“I could hear you,” you tell Atsumu, unimpressed, as the two enter and shuck off their shoes.

“I know.”

He deftly dodges the kick you aim at his ankle. This usually happens nowadays, unfortunately, but it doesn’t stop you from trying.

“’S just you here?” Osamu asks, shuffling into some slippers and walking further into the house. His gym bag hangs from his shoulder, big and bulky, and you look at it curiously.

“… Yeah?”

“Fer someone left home alone all the time, you’re duller than a rock,” Atsumu says. “Folks’re gone and ya don’t even throw a party? Geez.”

You narrow your eyes as he grins. “Maybe I just want peace and quiet after havin’ to sit in class with you all week, Atsumu. Anyways, why are you guys here?”

You receive no answer. After eyeing the kitchen, Osamu turns and heads down the hallway, prompting you to follow. You’re further confused when he enters the bathroom and sets his bag on the countertop.

As he unzips it, Atsumu squeezes past you and reaches into the bag, pulling out a –

A shower cap.

“… Is the shower at yer place broken or something?”

“No,” Osamu says, and he pulls something else out. “Ma’s home.”

You stare at the box in his hands. Then you look back up at the twins.

“She’s gonna kill you.”

—

Watching Osamu and Atsumu bleach each other’s hair is like watching a train wreck in slow motion.

Their dark T-shirts have speckles of orange on them, there are bits of foil littering the sink and the bathroom floor, and the acrid stench of bleach filling the bathroom is starting to creep down the hallway. You can only hope it doesn’t linger past Sunday night when you go back to the dorms.

“If you screw this up, I’m shaving yer giant head in yer sleep.”

“I’m doin’ it better than you did, ya scrub!”

You stand outside, shirt collar pulled up and over your nose, as Atsumu finishes combing through the top part of Osamu’s hair. It’s an incredible thing to witness: Osamu sitting on the shower seat, hunched over and holding a sheet of foil over his undercut while Atsumu hangs over him, wearing one of the shower caps to keep his own hair out of the way. It’s also a disaster.

You lift your phone up to snap a quick picture.

“Oi! What’re ya doin’?”

“Making a present for Ojiro.” Upon viewing the photographic evidence, you realize something. “You’re not gonna tell Auntie that you dyed yer hair at my house, right?”

“Don’t worry about that,” Osamu assures, letting Atsumu hold onto the foil while he pulls on a shower cap. He sets a timer, and the two of them hurry out of the bathroom to escape the fumes. “She won’t be thinkin’ about the details when she finds out.”

“Like she’d ever blame ya, anyway.” Atsumu scoffs. “You’re the favorite and you ain’t even her kid.”

“Well, I don’t wanna take my chances.” You recall the countless number of times the twins had received a whooping for something stupid they did, and the countless number of times you had just barely managed to slip under the radar by keeping your mouth shut. “Y’know, she might make ya dye it black again if the school doesn’t like it.”

“Please. If anything, they’ll thank us fer givin’ them an easy way to tell us apart.”

“Is that why you’re dyein’ yer hair? You’re already in different classes.”

“It ain’t fer class,” Osamu says. “It’s fer volleyball.”

Atsumu presses his back against the wall and slides down to the floor, pulling up a game on his phone. “Some of the scrubs still can’t tell us apart on court,” he sniffs. “’M tired of it.”

That, you think, makes a lot more sense.

Osamu and Atsumu have always taken full advantage of being identical twins. You’ve seen them pull just about every stunt in the book – switching the way they part their hair on random days, pretending to be the other when one of them gets in trouble, making money off classmates who bet on knowing who’s who (and lying on more than one occasion). Looking alike isn’t usually a point of contention between them.

When it does bother them, volleyball is usually involved. They don’t always wear different shirts or numbered jerseys at practice, and you’ve been to enough of them to know that this can cause issues at the beginning of the year. The coach calls out the wrong name, a teammate calls for Osamu when they mean Atsumu, things like that.

They get especially miffed when one gets praised for something the other did. Atsumu, in particular, hates that the most.

“Ya have anythin’ to eat?”

Head snapping up, you look at Osamu and nod halfway through absorbing what he’s just asked. “There’s leftover onigiri in the fridge and snacks in the cupboard,” you reply, stepping over Atsumu’s outstretched legs to lead his brother towards the kitchen.

(“Heat up an onigiri fer me,” Atsumu calls out.)

(“Get it yerself, lazy-ass,” Osamu shoots back.)

In the kitchen, you fish out the last two onigiri the twins’ mom had given you yesterday and present them to Osamu.

“Here. You and Atsumu can each have one.”

“These the ones with salted salmon?”

You nod.

Osamu thinks for a moment. His lips purse, his eyelids droop, and even though he kind of looks like a lunch lady with that shower cap on, it’s cute.

“I’ll make ochazuke and yaki onigiri,” he decides. “What do ya want?”

“I’ll just have some chips or something. I just ate lunch, so I’m not that hungry.”

He stares at you, then accepts the onigiri from your hands. “Okay.”

Putting the rice balls on the counter next to the stove, Osamu retrieves a small plate, a bowl, and a mug from the cupboard. He finds most of everything else pretty quickly – the cast iron skillet under the oven, the spatula in the drawer right next to the fridge, and the soy sauce and oil in the lower corner cabinet. The only thing he asks for you to locate is the green tea, which you get from the depths of the second shelf in the pantry.

While he works, you grab a bag of your favorite chips and pop it open, leaning against the unused counter on the other side of the stove to watch.

You like it whenever Osamu cooks. The click of the stovetop turning on, the curve of oil being poured into the skillet, and you’re rocking gently in a small boat, curled up in an overstuffed chair on a rainy day.

(It’s an extension of how he feels, you’ve learned – for as much as Miya Osamu loves volleyball, he loves food just a teeny bit more.)

When the oil is hot enough, he unwraps one of the onigiri and places it in.

You turn the opening of your chip bag towards him as he wipes his hands on a towel. “Here,” you offer once he notices.

“Thanks.”

Atsumu’s onigiri sizzles in the skillet while the water for Osamu’s tea continues to heat up. Osamu mirrors your posture on his side of the stove, messily crunching down on several chips, and the two of you wait.

“Didja apply for the manager position yet?”

You swallow too early, rough shards of chips cutting down your throat. Fighting the urge to cough, you shake your head and reach for the water you’d left on the table this morning. “No. Still thinkin’ about it.” He hums. “You guys haven’t found one yet?”

“Kobayashi-senpai’s real picky.” He flips the onigiri over with one sharp push of the spatula, brushing soy sauce over the freshly grilled side. The water boiler beeps right after, and he seamlessly transitions over to pour the hot water over the teabag in his mug. “Most of the applicants we saw were annoyin’, anyway.”

“Oh.”

You recall the last practice you’d attended, watching from the balcony with your homework as the team ran laps around the court. The applicant on trial that day had watched them go by a few times, still and proper, before suddenly turning to Kobayashi and excusing themselves from the gym. They never came back.

On the walk back to the dorms that evening, Atsumu explained that the student had a counter for how many times their soulmate would pass by them.

(“Waste of time n’ space,” he’d complained. “Who’d wanna be with someone that desperate?”)

“Ya wouldn’t be half bad at it.”

“… Yeah …”

“If ya don’t wanna apply, just say so.”

“It’s not that. I just don’t know if I’ll wanna do it for the next three years.”

“Whaddaya want to do, then?”

“I dunno.” With a sigh, you set your bag of chips down. “I mean, I guess it wouldn’t hurt to apply.”

Osamu shrugs. “If ya are,” he says, turning off the stove top, “don’t do it just ’cause of me.”

Your teeth sink into your lower lip, sharp and knowing as he flips the yaki onigiri onto the plate he’d pulled out earlier.

After calling Atsumu, who had migrated to the living room couch while he had been waiting, the twins scarf down their afternoon snack in no time at all and raid your cupboard for the complimentary snacks your parents usually bring back from their trips.

Halfway into his fourth wafer, Atsumu’s timer goes off.

“Oh, shit.” Shoving the rest of the wafer into his mouth and silencing the alarm, Atsumu gets up and eagerly makes a beeline to the bathroom.

“… Do ya think it worked?” you mutter as you and Osamu stand up more slowly.

“I dunno.”

A loud swear explodes from the bathroom.

You look at each other sharply. Wiping the crumbs from your lips, the two of you run over to investigate.

As you get closer, you hear the sink running, then Atsumu muttering underneath his breath.

When you peek into the bathroom, your eyebrows shoot up into your hairline.

Holy shit.

“Holy shit,” Osamu says, leaning past you to get a better look. “’Tsumu, ya look like a carrot.”

“Shaddup, ’Samu,” Atsumu moans, rinsing his hair angrily. “I know. Fuck.”

Hair bleach on dark hair, as you find out, works similarly to hair bleach on dark fabric. Contrary to the sandy blond the older twin had desired, the result he had gotten is instead a bright, burnt yellow-orange matching the stains on his T-shirt. Not carrot, necessarily, but definitely not blond.

“Ugh.” Nose and forehead wrinkling, Atsumu leans toward the mirror, pinching a section of hair between his fingers. “It … it ain’t that bad, right?” His pitch rises with the slightest hint of denial. “I’m pullin’ it off.”

“It’s that bad,” Osamu says.

“’Samu!”

“Maybe you can bleach it again?” you suggest.

“And then his hair falls out? Bad idea.”

“Dye it, then, like you are.”

“We don’t have money left to buy a different color.” With a sigh, Osamu puts his hands on his hips. “Damn. Sorry, ’Tsumu.”

Atsumu groans and thunks his forehead against the mirror, dripping water all the way down its surface onto the counter. His frustration is so palpable that you can feel it prickling your skin.

If he hadn’t been so excited before, you’d probably poke fun. You should poke fun, but the disappointed twist of his lips and the droopiness of his sopping wet hair just makes you feel bad. He looks like a wet puppy.

Dammit.

You take your phone out.

Osamu tracks the movement. “Whatcha doin’?”

“Lookin’ something up.” You press on the first link you see, skim the webpage quickly, and put your phone back into your pocket. “I’m headin’ out fer a bit. Stay here.”

“… ’Kay.”

“Whatever,” Atsumu grumbles.

After grabbing your wallet and checking its contents, you head outside to drag your bike out from underneath the vacant carport. And as you hop onto the seat, pedaling down towards the nearest drugstore, you tell yourself that Atsumu better thank you on his hands and knees once you get back.

—

“Blue shampoo?” Atsumu’s tone is suspicious as he slathers the back of Osamu’s hair in grey dye.

“It’s supposed to cancel out the orange.” Turning the bottle to face you, you read the description beneath the brand name. “‘Eliminates brassy, orange undertones.’ See?”

“It ain’t gonna fuck up my hair even more?”

“’Course not,” you retort, all hopes of veneration quickly fading away. “I ain’t an asshole, Atsumu.”

His eyebrow twitches, hands slowing. You take the opportunity to place the bottle sideways in the crook of his neck, forcing him to tilt his head to hold it in place.

“Oi –”

“Go try it. I’ll finish Osamu’s hair.”

“Yer so bossy,” Atsumu grumbles, but he lets you nudge him out the way, peeling his gloves off and grabbing the shampoo.

You snap some gloves on in turn, keeping one eye on Osamu’s hair and the other on Atsumu as he ducks his head beneath the sink faucet. They’d pretty much finished up applying the dye for Osamu, at least from what you can tell, so you start combing through the locks with your fingers to make sure everything is covered.

Miya hair is very thick. Soft, too. You hope all this bleaching and dyeing won’t ruin it too much.

“Hm,” Osamu hums abruptly.

You stop. “What?”

“Nothin’.” You furrow your brow but resume, only to just barely hear him mumble, “… Feels nice.”

Oh.

A smile crawls onto your lips without warning, the space behind your ribcage suddenly cozy and soft.

“Alright, I’m doin’ it,” Atsumu announces. You look up just in time to see him squeeze a dollop of shampoo into his hand. “Euch! It’s so blue!”

“Why do ya sound so surprised?!”

“Shaddup, I just wasn’t expectin’ it to be so dark! … Smells okay, though …”

While the shampoo does its work on Atsumu’s hair, you take a little extra time combing Osamu’s. He remains quiet and still, thumbs tapping idly on the dark screen on his phone. You wait for him to make more snide remarks at Atsumu’s expense or complain about the smell of the dye, but he doesn’t.

You eventually finish up while the water still runs blue and sudsy into the bowl of the sink. Osamu mutters a thank you and ambles off after eyeing his brother for a few seconds. You linger for a while longer.

(God, you hope it works. If not for Atsumu’s sake, then for your pride and your wallet.)

After what seems like forever, he rinses out the last of the shampoo, wrings his hair out a bit, and straightens up to look in the mirror.

You examine his reflection as well. It’s less orange, yes, but still not as light as he had wanted, more gold than sand. Not necessarily good, but certainly less bad.

Atsumu fixates on the more muted shade of his hair for a minute or two. His lips press downwards at the corners, and then they part to say your name.

You blink.

“What?”

“Why’d ya buy the shampoo?”

He sounds almost accusatory, but not quite; there’s an undertone that you very, very rarely hear in his voice. He meets your eyes in the mirror, hair a dripping, tangled mess.

“… ’Cause I felt bad fer ya,” you admit unwillingly. Atsumu makes a face, and you sharpen your tongue, because that is what feels comfortable with him. Normal. “And I didn’t want to hear ya mopin’ and complainin’ about it all week.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” he persists. “I coulda pulled it off.”

You scoff. “Just ’cause you’re taller than most of the school doesn’t mean they wouldn’t’a noticed. And anyways, it’s better now, ain’t it?”

“I didn’t ask ya to buy it.”

“Ya didn’t even know what it was until I told you.”

“An’ if I did, I still wouldn’t’ve asked!”

“Yeah, ’cause yer prideful ass would rather die than ask fer help!” you snap, jabbing his bicep with your finger. “God! I knew ya wouldn’t even say thank you!”

“Well, if ya knew I was gonna be a dick about it, why’d ya waste yer money?!”

“I felt bad fer ya!” you screech. “My mistake!”

“Yeah, yer mistake!” Atsumu shouts back.

Chest heaving for breath, you glare at him. He glares in return. Temper pinks his face and the tips of his ears, flares his nostrils and curls his lip in that fierce and familiar way. In the back of your mind, you know you are doing the same.

Asshole.

You’re angry, yes. And offended, and exasperated, and and and –

And hurt.

“It’s so hard,” you say, your voice deciding to crack at the worst time possible, “to be nice to you sometimes, Atsumu.”

When the words leave your throat, his face grows blank in that way you’ve always hated, his mouth pressing into a fine line.

“So?” he replies.

You roll your eyes. “Forget it.”

Casting one last glance at the bottle of shampoo next to the sink, you clench your fists and turn to leave. What a waste of money. This is the last time you’re ever going to feel bad for him.

A hand wraps around your elbow upon your first step outside the bathroom.

“… Are ya cryin’?”

“No,” you bite, wishing he hadn’t asked because now you do feel like crying, just a little bit.

Atsumu pauses for an excruciating moment. You can practically feel his distaste for whatever words he’s about to say.

“I’ll pay ya back,” he mutters. “Fer the shampoo.”

“No.”

“Whaddaya mean, no?”

“I don’t want yer money.”

“Well, what do ya want, ’cause I ain’t owin’ ya anything.”

“I want a thank you.”

“… Can’t I just –”

“No.”

Atsumu throws his hands up. “Fine!” he says. “Thanks fer buyin’ somethin’ I didn’t ask fer! There, ya happy now?”

“I want ya to mean it,” you say quietly.

“I did mean it.”

You cross your arms.

He groans. Glancing around as if checking for hidden cameras, Atsumu slowly pushes his bangs away from his face and wipes his nose, sniffing.

“… Fine,” he eventually grumbles at the floor tiles. Cheeks puffed, he looks up at you from the corner of his eye and scratches the back of his head. “The shampoo fixed it a little bit,” the words struggle their way out of his mouth, “so … thanks … fer gettin’ it fer me. Ya didn’t have to.”

He looks like he’s just eaten soap, his ears still red, and that’s how you know he’s being sincere. Your shoulders relax a little bit.

“You’re welcome,” you say.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Atsumu’s expression, almost doleful for just that moment, blooms into something more sarcastic once you accept his gratitude. He gestures at the doorway behind you. “Can I go now?”

“Dry the mirror and the counter first.”

“But I said thank you.”

You throw a towel at his face and walk away, more satisfied than not.

—

“How’s Osamu-kun doing?”

You prop your phone up against the wall behind your desk, tilting your pen between your fingers. “He’s fine, Ma.”

“Did ya tell him how good his curry is? He makes it better than me.”

“Yeah, he says he’s glad you guys like it.”

After resolving the blue shampoo issue with Atsumu on Saturday, you’d gone back to the kitchen and found Osamu chopping vegetables and tofu next to the sink. At first, you figured he was hungry again, but upon your questioning, he’d only denied it.

(“’S fer you.”

“… Fer me? No, you don’t have to –”

“Yeah, I know. Ya don’t like the curry at the cafeteria, so bring mine back to the dorm and save it in the fridge fer later. If ya don’t want it, leave it fer yer folks to eat when they get back.”)

He didn’t leave much room for debate. And since he was using your family’s food to make it anyway, you accepted, a bit perplexed but happy nonetheless. You hadn’t expected him to remember your complaint about the cafeteria’s bland curry.

The amount he made was enough to fill two Tupperware containers, one of which you left for your parents when they returned two days later. Needless to say, they were delighted.

“What a thoughtful boy. He’s so good to you, honey.”

You smile, walking back to your desk. “Yeah.”

(“Ya like dark chocolate in it, right?”)

Your mom sighs. It’s a familiar sigh, and you click your pen, knowing what she is about to say before she even takes a breath.

“I just don’t know why he hasn’t asked ya out yet.”

You can hear your dad speak up between chews in the background. “It ain’t like how it was back when we were young, dear. Soulmates these days don’t like makin’ things so formal and official.”

“Oh, I know, but wouldn’t it be sweet? I was so happy when we went on our first official date.”

“The one at the konbini ’cause I couldn’t afford anythin’ nicer?”

“Yes. I loved it.”

“I know. You were smilin’ the whole time.”

“Glad you’re still in love,” you say dryly when they giggle over the phone, your nose wrinkling when your dad comes into view to give your mom a loud smooch. During these moments, you wish you’d called instead. “I’m still here.”

“Oh, I know, I know. Honey, you should bring Osamu-kun somethin’ fer his next game! A snack fer afterwards. He’ll like that.”

“Okay.” You’ve done that before. The first time you gave him an orange in your first year of junior high, he and Atsumu squabbled over dividing it for five minutes. Now you get double portions whenever you have the compulsion to bring something after games, just to keep the peace.

“Speaking of games …”

Here we go.

“… Have ya applied to be the manager for the volleyball team yet?”

“Um.” Glancing at the wall to your right, you click your pen some more, taking your time to answer. “I filled the form out …”

“[Y/n]! If ya dawdle, someone else’ll snatch it up. When’s it due?”

“July first or until they find someone.”

“Turn it in tomorrow!”

“Okay, okay.”

Your mom sighs again, and she places a bowl down onto the table. “… Otherwise, are ya okay? I’m sorry we missed ya at home.”

“It’s fine. I hung out with Kokomi and the twins. How was yer anniversary?”

“We’ll make sure we’re home next time you’re on weekend leave. And it was lovely! Oh, honey, ya should’ve seen the fish yer pa caught …”

You talk with your parents until they finish their dinner, hanging up once they’ve started cleaning up. As soon as the video cuts out, you release a breath and turn your phone face-down.

You don’t know why you’re so nervous about applying for the manager position. It’s the natural thing to do, because it’s natural to want to be involved with something Osamu is interested in, his own opinion on the matter notwithstanding. You think you might like being a manager. It’s not like you want to do something else more.

Getting rejected by Kobayashi would be horrible, though.

Maybe you’ll wait a little longer to turn your application in. Polish it up some more, and such.

—

After volleyball practice ends, and after everyone who had lingered behind to practice some more is ready to call it a night, Atsumu tells you and Osamu that he’s staying a little longer to practice his jump float serves.

“Are ya sure? Cafeteria’s servin’ all-you-can-eat pasta for dinner.”

“I’ll be done before it closes.”

Osamu doesn’t look convinced. To be fair, neither are you; Atsumu often loses track of time when he stays behind, resulting in an extra hungry, extra irritable Atsumu.

“Atsumu,” you say.

He huffs at you. “Seriously, I will!” he insists, before turning to walk back to the end line. You, Osamu, Ginjima, Akagi, and Ojiro all look on helplessly as he throws a volleyball into the air and gives himself a running start.

“Don’t worry,” Kobayashi says, grabbing your attention just as he jumps. She holds up the key to the gymnasium. “I’ll kick him out before he misses dinner.”

Ojiro, ever the responsible one, lets out a noise of protest. “Senpai, I can lock up. You should go.”

“No, it’s fine.” Though her tone is impassive, she makes it clear that her mind is set as she waves him off. “I’m goin’ out to eat with my boyfriend later, anyway.”

You blink.

Though Ojiro is visibly reluctant, he acquiesces. “… Okay. Thank you, Kobayashi-senpai.”

“Mmhm,” Kobayashi hums, and her gaze falls upon you. “Make sure they get to the cafeteria in one piece, [L/n]-chan.”

“I will, senpai.”

You wait outside while the guys change out of their gym clothes and gather their things. Once they exit the building, you join them, listening idly to their chatter about today’s practice as the five of you trek towards the cafeteria.

“Hey, Ojiro-senpai, Akagi-senpai,” Ginjima speaks up during a lull in the conversation. “What Kobayashi-senpai said earlier …”

Attention piqued, you look at your upperclassmen for their reactions to Ginjima’s question. Next to you, Osamu does little to hide his curiosity as well.

Ojiro and Akagi, in turn, share a glance, and Ojiro raises an eyebrow at Ginjima.

“Yeah?” Ojiro replies.

“Well, y’know …” Ginjima presses expectantly, “when she said that she has a boyfriend, did she mean …?”

“That’s somethin’ you can ask Kobayashi-senpai about, ain’t it?”

You imagine doing just that and cringe.

Ginjima’s eyes widen, and he clears his throat. “Well –!” he replies, a bit too loudly. “I would, but I don’t want her to think I’m bein’ judgmental or somethin’. Plus, I’m just a first-year …”

“Aw, I think it’s fine if they know, Aran. It ain’t like she’s hidin’ it or anythin’,” Akagi says. Ojiro looks up for a moment in thought, then shrugs tentatively, and Akagi smiles at you and the two boys. “Kobayashi-senpai’s not datin’ her soulmate. They’re pretty serious, too.”

Ojiro rests his hands behind his head. “He’s a nice guy. Comes to games sometimes.”

“Oh, I see …”

You nod slowly, absorbing this new piece of information. Kobayashi has a boyfriend. A boyfriend that she goes on dates with, one she really likes. You wonder how long they’ve been together.

You wonder if Kobayashi’s met her soulmate yet.

“E-Excuse me! Hello!”

The quick patter of footsteps interrupts your train of thought. Glancing behind you, you stop short when you see one of your classmates running up to your group, waving one hand and holding a camera in the other. The golden orange of the sky burnishes her red hair.

“Naruko-san,” you and Ginjima greet at the same time. Ginjima laughs.

“Sorry to bother ya!” Naruko bows and quickly straightens, holding her camera up and smiling nervously. “I-I was just takin’ some pictures for photography club, and I was wonderin’ if you guys would mind me takin’ a picture?”

“How long’s it gonna take?” Osamu asks.

“Not too long. Five minutes? U-Unless y’all are in a hurry to get somewhere …”

“Not too much of a hurry. Just wanna make it to dinner.” Ojiro smiles, patting Osamu and Akagi’s backs. “Where do ya want us?”

Naruko brightens, her cheeks going red. “J-Just keep walkin’! The lighting’s perfect right now, and I wanna take a picture of yer backs with yer volleyball jackets on.” She glances at you, and her expression grows more nervous. “Er …”

You lock eyes with her for a few seconds before catching on. Nodding, you take a step towards Naruko to join her.

Osamu’s hand grasps your shoulder.

His hold is loose, but you bite back the urge to slump over at the sudden warmth of it, pausing instead to look back at him.

“Where’re ya goin’?”

You answer tentatively. “I don’t have a team jacket.”

“That’s fine. You’re walkin’ with us too.”

“Yeah, but …” You wet your lips. “Like, visually, it’ll look weird if one person doesn’t have one on …”

The corner of Osamu’s mouth twitches, and he frowns. You watch as his gaze moves past your shoulder. A sudden, brief twinge of irritation, not belonging to you, zings through your ribcage.

“Why’s that matter?”

“Yeah. C’mon, it’ll be fine,” Ojiro says.

“It’s okay!” Naruko suddenly blurts, and you jolt slightly, looking back at her. She bounces on her feet, voice even higher pitched. “I can do a more candid shot, now that I think about it! A-Actually, Miya-san, could ya give [L/n]-san yer jacket? And Ginjima-san, you can keep yers around yer waist …”

Her sudden change in idea perplexes you a bit. But Osamu seems to be satisfied, and he shrugs his jacket off, placing it over your shoulders.

After a bit of hesitation, you slide your arms through the sleeves.

(It’s just as warm.)

“Ooh, [L/n]-chan’s wearin’ Osamu’s jacket,” Ginjima teases behind his hand, and your face heats up.

“Okay.” Behind you, Naruko lets out a wistful-sounding sigh. “I’m ready. Y’all can start walkin’ now, just like ya were before.”

With only a bit of self-consciousness, the five of you follow her instructions. There are only a few clicks of the camera before Naruko calls out her thanks and goes off without another word, leaving you and the boys to speculate whether you’ll ever see the results.

“How cute,” Akagi comments. “She looked like she was gonna throw up, though.”

“I hope those were conflicting statements.”

“Okay, Aran, I wasn’t implying …”

While the two upperclassmen start to banter, you move to take Osamu’s jacket off, only for him to stop you.

“’S fine,” he says. “You can wear it if ya want.”

“Oh. Okay.”

And so you do.

—

The boys’ first practice game in July is brutal.

Many of your peers have come to watch. It’s a favorite after-school pastime of Inarizaki’s student populace, you’ve quickly discovered, to hop from one athletic club to the other simply to spectate and speculate. People pack the balcony and peek around the doorway, catching the scent of blood and sweat.

Between the crowd’s cheering and jeering, the squeak of sneakers on the gym floor, and the sound of palms ramming into volleyballs, the atmosphere is sharp, almost electric – something that you feel tingling on your skin as you stand on the sidelines, Kobayashi right by your side.

Atsumu delivers another devastating service ace. It ricochets off the corner of the other side of the court with a thunderous boom.

“Did you catch that, [L/n]-chan?” Kobayashi asks, arms crossed. “That was one of his better ones.”

“Ah, sorry, I didn’t.”

“Hm.”

You watch the slow, satisfied stretch of Atsumu’s smile, and wait patiently. “It’s okay. He ain’t done yet.”

Indeed, Atsumu is just getting started. You spare an amused glance at Osamu in front of the net, his hands locked protectively behind his head, before turning back to Atsumu as the volleyball is thrown back to him.

Raising your camera, you adjust the focus, finger ready on the shutter button.

Toss. Run. Jump.

Click.

On your other side, a girl pumps her fists and cheers.

“Wow! Another one!” she gushes.

You smile behind your lens. “Ya always sound so impressed, Tsubaki-chan.”

“I’m just excited! We’re crushin’ them in the last set!”

“’Course we are,” says Kobayashi. “Our offense is that much better. I’m a little disappointed.”

As your upperclassman patiently points out each player’s strengths and weaknesses, you keep an eye on the team and crouch low. You’ve got plenty of photos now that the game’s nearing its end – lots of sets, a few spikes and digs, some flashy jump serves. Hopefully, some of them have turned out halfway decent. Even though you’d widened the aperture to make up for the gym’s crappy lighting and adjusted the shutter speed for blurring, you still worry about your timing.

By the time Inarizaki scores the winning point, you’ve moved to the opposite end of the court and have to race back to capture their reactions.

One thing you like about the volleyball team is how expressive they are. Joy, passion, pride – off the high of a victory, they bare everything, whether it’s through their expressions or the way they move or both.

Tsubaki says your name excitedly as soon as the teams have finished thanking each other, tugging on your arm. “Can I see the action shots, [Y/n]-chan?” she requests.

“Ah, sure.”

You turn the camera towards her, and she leans in as you scroll through the photos, her grin widening.

“Wow! Yer timin’s amazin’. They look so cool!”

The praise brings summer to your cheeks. “Thanks,” you reply genuinely. After a moment of hesitation, you lift the camera again. “Smile, Manager-san?”

Tsubaki doesn’t hesitate to broaden her already present grin, throwing up a peace sign for good measure. Kobayashi looks your way as well, and you take one shot, knowing it will be kept.

“Cute!” Tsubaki exclaims.

Two shadows loom over your shoulders as the girl bestows you with another compliment. When you turn your head to the right, your nose nearly brushes Osamu’s cheek.

“Ya got any good shots of us, [Y/n]?” Atsumu asks expectantly.

“Yes, actually, I did,” you reply, going back through the camera roll with a particular image in mind. You’re only vaguely aware of the warmth they exude as they budge into your personal space, the smell of sweat lingering on their skin. “Here.”

You’re particularly proud of this one. It had been a split second of pure luck, standing on the sidelines when a window of opportunity opened for a fast-tempo set. You had felt it – you knew Atsumu would set to Osamu, and as Osamu jumped, arm reared back as Atsumu sent the ball to him, you had captured it.

Somehow, you always get the timing right with them.

“Cool,” the twins approve proudly.

“Email that one to us, will ya?” Atsumu says. “I ain’t lettin’ you photography nerds hoard it away.”

“She’s sendin’ all these to Arata-senpai, ya dolt.”

“Hey, I wanna see!” Gintama breaks into your little group, trying to sneak a peek in. “Did ya get one of my spikes?”

“Yeah, how about my jump serve?”

“That super cool block me and Ren did in the second set!”

“Didja get one of Coach?”

One by one, the team gathers around you, eager for a glimpse of their successes. The crowding is uncomfortable, but you try your best to show them what you can anyway, feeling a rare sense of pride about your own accomplishments.

You’re happy with your choice.

Tsubaki will be a great manager. Even when you first met her, you knew she had everything she'd need for the job – a passion for the sport, a desire to help others succeed, and an endless amount of perseverance. Inarizaki couldn’t ask for a better person to replace Kobayashi next year. She’ll do well in what she’s decided to do.

And so will you.

—

#haikyuu #hq #miya atsumu x reader #miya osamu x reader #miya atsumu #miya osamu #miya atsumu x reader x miya osamu #haikyuu fanfiction #reader insert #fem!reader #soulmate au #yeah i got carried away LOL #the miya twins giving themselves terrible dye jobs lives rent free in my head #atsumu's especially. i KNOW they screwed up with his #that color looks way too close to a bleach gone wrong on black hair and he just made it his brand for the rest of high school #this is spiraling i am spiraling #kobayashi i'll miss you i loved thinking you up #the five nonsenses

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fishyvamp · 4 months ago

Note

Joey: -the blatant disrespect coming from your pie hole is unacceptable.

S/O: Pie hole? That's not very sigma grind of you.

Joey: What the fuck are you saying. It's like talking to an alien

S/O: Yeah, I guess you'd need to be rizz level 5 to get that

Joey: I HAVE rizz- oh my god you've infected me

TW: minor degradation, alcohol

LMFAO 😂 I'm going to be honest I think Joey would get sick of it and have you bent over the bar just to keep you quiet. So obligatory 18+ MDNI, smut under the cut. A drabble in which Joey tried to prove he ain't an old man

He knows he's going to lose the fight, the alcohol running rampant in his system. You know all his words and aren't as thrown off by them as he is of yours, but if your too busy moaning his name at least you won't be roasting him for being an old man, 19 ain't that old man.

"what's wrong doll face, Cat got your tongue?" Joey teases as he drags his fingers along your sex dipping into your fluttering hole. Body caging you to the bar. "Is this enough rizz for you?" He whispers huskily in your ear. You just chuckle bracing yourself on the bar moaning slightly, "big yikes," you huff out, "acting hella cringe." A growl escaping him, "Say one of those words one more time and I'll..."

"you'll what? get jiggy with it?" You joke, Joey looked down with a frown your smile bright and infuriating. "I'll walk away, I'll get you all hot and bothered and leave you here blue balled and needy, I'll tell Frank you're in a time out." His fingers going deeper brushing and teasing you. "I know you, I know how much you need this old man to get you off." His breath ghosting the shell of you ear. Teeth grazing softly as he removes his hand drifting upwards tracing the outline of your belly feeling it twitch under his touch, "I know you need this, so be a good toy and behave." His words low and dangerous as he lifts up.

A free Hand undoing his pants as he frees himself, heavy cock bouncing against your thigh. His hand still in place, teasing your hole feeling the way you clench around just one finger, he was determined to prove to you that he wasn't old, determined to make your brain such a mess that you forget those silly words that drive him loco. Another finger met with the other sliding inside you stretching you. Joey grunted with impatience as he lines up the cock with your tight hole moaning loudly as he thrust in. He fit like a fucking glove. Your warmth like velvet on his sensitive skin.

Grunting he picks you off the counter fucking into you harshly, "If I was old could I do this?" He asks hearing you whine in satisfaction. The weight of you feeling nice in his arms, the killer strength of the entity making you feel weightless to him. "Such a good toy, proper little fuck hole." He grunts in time with his thrusts holding you in the air nails digging into his back. You were so loud and yet so quiet. Already coming on his cock as he brushes your sweet spot over and over again. His own belly rolling and twisting. Balls begining to tighten pulling in tight as he unloads inside you. Panting heavily he falls on the couch nearby looking you brushing at your sweaty hair. "How's that for an old man."

You look up coming down from your high with a big ol', "bet." He just blinks in disbelief, "what the fuck does that mean?!"

#dead by daylight #dbd fanfic #dbd x reader #dbdkillerxreader #dbd killer x reader #dead by daylight fanfic #smut #gn!reader #joey x reader #joey x you #joey dbd #the legion x reader #dbd legion #killer!reader #no one actually talks with that much slang unless they're being silly and goof about it #in high school for me the common slang words were “highkey” “lit” “dope” “swag” and “a hot minute”#skibidi toilet was something that came out when I was an adult living on my own #I'm pretty sure Joey would call me an old man and laugh as I moan about my back tweeking out #fishy is rambling

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wannaeatramyeon · 2 years ago

Text

Goo Kim x Reader: Pinky promises

"Princess, you sure you want this life?"

You nod.

"You'll stay with me?"

You nod again.

"Forever?"

This one you take a bit longer to think about. What is forever to someone barely on the cusp of adulthood? How can anyone parse such an unfathomably long stretch of time?

Forever.

Going on and on and on.

The rest of your life. The end of time.

Until lines are etched upon your face and colour fades from your hair and your bones creak with age. Then eventually-

The light fades from your eyes.

Forever.

Yet the confidence of youth gives you the belief and conviction to say yes.

There's no doubt in your mind.

"Pinky promise?"

A childish gesture that would be juvenile with anyone else, that even Goo treats as a joke, but you know what this means to him. The reassurance. Something serious masked with something silly. And isn't that just Goo Kim all over?

His gaze pierces you to the core even as he forces his body to stay easy and relaxed. He wants you to keep this promise, he wants to build his kingdom with you by his side.

And you intend to be there every step of the way.

Your pinky curls around his own and he smiles. You don't think you've seen anything brighter. You didn't think he could be this sincere.

"Then remember this moment, Princess. Welcome to the rest of our lives."

You were never a princess that needed saving, yet that's what he calls you even when you're his port in the storm, his lighthouse beam that calls him home.

Goo likes to think you're the one that saves him, sometimes. Somewhat retain his humanity. Remind him he has a heart, a conscience, to reel him back when he goes too far.

Provide this moneymaker with a greater meaning than to hoard gold and treasures. It's someone to protect. Someone to make it back to.

He's the villain of everyone else's story but the hero in yours.

Even years on.

Now that Goo has his gold and his treasures and his penthouse and more money than he can spend in ten lifetimes-

He still thinks of that day.

Especially on nights like this, when you both stand on the balcony side by side, watching the lights of Seoul twinkling like starlight.

"Princess, do you remember-"

Of course you do.

You hold your pinky up without prompt and he curls his own around yours with a smile.

#sort of wrote this with school day fic in mind #also been listening to long live. that song always reminds me of goo and makes me feel teary #still feeling manic about this man #lookism #lookism x reader #lookism webtoon #lookism manhwa #goo kim #goo kim x reader #kim joongoo #kim joongoo x reader #wannaeatramyeon

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snippychicke · 2 years ago

Text

Eliza's Library of Fics

Because I am a writer of various fandoms and dozens of stories now, I'm going to put them under a cut to save space.

**NOTE THAT SOME STORIES ARE 18+**

Many of my stories, and just my blog in general, are meant for mature audiences. I am a full grown adult writing some mature themes at times. Viewer discretion advised. I do my best to tag common triggers, but I'm also bad at it. So, yeah. Read at your own risk. If it seems sketchy, please back out. I don't want you traumatized because my brain felt spicy when writing.

Tag list for my various fics here

»Moon Knight «

Moon Stone: Before Marc and Steven, before Arthur Harrow, Khonshu had another avatar. Well, hundreds of thousand of others, but this is the story of one in particular that Khonshu was fond of. (Khonshu/Reader; Mature Readers only; Complete)

»Mairimashita Iruma-kun/Welcome to Demon School, Iruma«

For the Sake of a Smile: Hell on earth was your motto for your job. Granted, you were pretty sure earth really was hell, considering the shit you had seen. And the fact your coworker was a child. Suzuki Iruma. A kid who’s life was decidedly worse than yours, but smiled despite everything. And you’d do a lot for his smile. Including summoning a demon and signing your life away.

But as it turns out, hell (The Netherworld, actually) was a lot better than living on earth. Demons were more humane than a lot of humans you knew. And Iruma’s smile wasn’t the only one that would change your life. (Balam/Reader; Found Family Fic; Revision in progress)

Original Un-revised masterpost

Drabbles

● Balam-Centric

Jealous Balam

● Kalego-Centric

Jealous Kalego (Back in his school-days)

Jealous Kalego again. (Mature, NSFW 18+)

5 sentence NSFW (Mature, 18+)

Collab with Pun

Happy-fun-times with multiple kinks (Mature, NSFW 18+)

Pillow-princess Reader(nsfw)

And more Kalego smut!

● Robin-Centric

Reader confesses to Robin (pt. 2)

● Dali-Centric

Dali Finds out Reader is human (Pt.2)

● Lord Sullivan-Centric

Deal with the Devil (pt. 2) (pt. 3)

» One Piece «

Kinktober 2023

A bunch of oneshots featuring Buggy, Sanji, Kuro, and Garp. All very NSFW

Cats & Ships

It started out as a means to get information as Khaladore. Who would be better to provide information regarding the high seas than Syrup Village’s Harbormaster? Except, for the first time in a very long time, Kuro found himself trusting, and even liking, the young woman he shared tea with every week.

And then the Straw Hat Pirates arrived and ruined his plans. Except fate decided his story wasn’t done there.

Nor was yours. (Captain Kuro (Klahadore)/Reader; hints of Kaya/Usopp. Explores the fall out after Syrup Village Arc kinda?)

A quick NSFW Moment

A small Klahadore/Reader smut. Stand alone (for now)

Devil-fruit!Reader/Kuro

Gardener!Reader/Klahadore

Cook!Reader/Kuro

Reader/Kuro and the crescent moon

Soft!Dom!Reader/Kuro with bondage

~*~

The Legend of the Selkie and the Pirate

Even in a world of monsters, devil fruits, pirates, and fishmen, selkies were considered a myth. Especially in the East Blue where the waters were too warm for seals to live anyways. Even in a world of monsters, devil fruits, pirates, and fishmen, selkies were considered a myth. Especially in the East Blue where the waters were too warm for seals to live anyways.

Except that myths were always seeded with truths, and stories always had a habit of coming to life.

Buggy/Selkie!Reader.

Alternate Summary: You thought it would be easy to follow the stars home to the Arctic when you ended up far too south. Unfortunately, you were wrong.

Fortunately, another kind of star kept pulling you in-- the Flashy Fool: Buggy the Clown.

Unfortunately, this also leads you to question where 'home' really is.

(Meanwhile, Buggy is likewise conflicted. He handles it poorly.)

Random 3 am drabble

Set in the Legend of the Selkie and the Pirate realm some time in the future-ish

~*~

It's Just Business

Rating: Teen so far

Pairing: Sanji/Reader

Warnings: No real warnings, but god, I hope you like pining

Summary: You felt like you had known Sanji forever, considering your family had been the main merchants Zeff used to supply the Baratie. You had a small crush on him, but knew it was hopeless considering you were the one woman he didn't seem to pine over.

It was fine. Or so you thought until you ended up on the Going Merry as a bookkeeper and supply manager. Being around him 24/7 was a lot more difficult than just a few days a week.

》Invader Zim《

Catching Flies

Over on my sideblog we have a delightful found!family fic between a nonbinary reader and Zim... as well as a slow romance between the Reader and Professor Membrane

》Five Nights at Freddy's: Security Breach《

Feeling so Bright

Rating: Teen

Pairing: Freddy/Reader (?)

Summary: After the infamous night of a ten year old child being stuck in the Pizzaplex overnight and causing untold chaos to the place in less than six hours; Vanessa understandably needed a few days off, and you were happy to fill in (not that you were given a choice really.) Except the main technician for the Glam Rocks had been fired (or disappeared, depending on who you asked) and so you were also assigned to their restoration as well as maintenance and upkeep of the staff bots.

As if that assignment isn’t large enough, Freddy tells you his version of the Incident, which makes things even more complicated as you start piecing puzzle pieces together. The bear animatronic, after seeing all his friends be warped by a virus and taken down by a child he cares for, becomes rather protective of you. Especially as things… develop.

These feelings are just because you’re both lonely, right? Once things go back to normal, surely they’ll fade away.

»Undertale«

To be posted: US!Papyrus/Reader

»The Umbrella Academy«

Aftermath

Rating: Teen to Mature

Pairing: Otto of the Swedes/Oc

Summary: Raymond Chestnut gets a harsh surprise when he realizes the body in his living room isn't actually dead. Now he has a severely injured white man, who tried to kill him, to deal with. Thankfully he knows a friend who might be able to help.

Lorelei was used to people coming to her for medical attention. But when Raymond brings Otto to her home, nothing could prepare for how her life was about to change.

---

Poppy Playtime

Poppy Seeds

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phoenixcatch7 · 2 years ago

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I know 'person with secret to hide spots other person with secret to hide but doesn't say anything' is like. Thee trope in superhero crossovers, but come on! Some of these guys have been doing this for decades! There's tons of heroes that have gone to pretty extreme lengths to be Completely Imperceptible in civilian life.

Don't you think it's scarier, after all is said and done, to sit there and think I didn't notice a thing? I wouldn't have ever realised? I would never have known? To know that someone you were familiar with - close with, even! - had this whole other personality and skillset and powers and experiences and life just behind the curtain, and they hid it so completely you didn't even see it was there.

'I always knew there was something off' what if you didn't. How world shaking would it be to be so utterly blindsided? To know that this person had somehow learned to so deceptive?

#Strongly inspired by the dp x dc where Danny knows what up IMMEDIATELY or a bat clocks Danny as super suspicious within mins of meeting #Or the amount of reveal fics caused by the hero slipping up in some stupid way and getting themselves doxxed against their will #Like come on!! Full time heroes like superman or batman or Spidey go to great lengths to construct an entirely separate civilian persona!#And yes I know they've had their idiot moments when it comes to their identities but they've kept their secret rock solid for irl DECADES #What's an identity reveal without drama!! Shake it up! Stir the pot! Not a slow and gradual build up of suspicion and stress #But two high speed trains coming at right-angles and the audience is the only one who can see the incoming crash #Twist the knife in if you want. Make it HURT. Make it completely rewrite what they believed.#Short ID reveals are great for this because you can SEE the ripple effects spreading out as the story ends. Just BANG.#But also no ID reveal at all. The main character goes through the story regularly interacting with and developing character right alongside #A hero in hiding and no one is ever the wiser. You're a worker in WE fending off attempts to steal your inventions and Bruce Wayne #Invites you to his office to discuss security and he walks you back to your office when you get nervous about a break in.#You're struggling with school bullies and getting into trouble over your photography hobby and Peter Parker is right there alongside #You complaining about rich kids and fiddling with the outdated finicky lenses you got from the school.#You're a reporter unpicking a mystery scandal and you ask resident tank Clark Kent if he's able to play bodyguard if you go somewhere shady #The reader knows. No one else notices a thing.#And besides focusing on the civilian side is a nice change of pace! Let's see how they manage leading double lives!#What do I even tag this #batman #superman #Marvel #Dcu #spiderman #secret identity #identity reveal #long tags #captain marvel #miraculous ladybug #I know I know #hero and villain

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polarisbibliotheque · 2 months ago

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Survivor's Blood (Leon x Reader) - Chapter 7

Survivor’s Blood

Pairing: Leon x Reader

Summary: After Raccoon City, Leon became the only Government agent with that kind of expertise. With relentless training, he was now a Special Agent - again, on his first day in the job. He just didn’t expect to live Raccoon City all over again… Maybe Leon was fated to always have the worst first-days-at-work ever.

Age Restriction: 18+. It’s horror, so expect a lot of graphic violence and blood dripping from this. I mean, VERY GRAPHICAL VIOLENCE. Nothing we haven’t seen on RE, but still. Yee been warned

TRIGGER WARNING: This whole fanfic is a trigger warning really

Author's Notes: Heeeeey, I know this is exactly what no one wanted, but it's what I've got. It's been sitting in my files for a while 'cause I wanted to have a couple of new chapters ready to post, but oh well. Blame this update on my mom - who got me explaining the whole history of Resident Evil and why it's so important to gaming along with its lore and she was "wow, that's basically the 2020 pandemic" and I was "exactly, now you get it". And she also kinda loves Chris for becoming boulder-punching-Chris and just suplexing Wesker out of existence. He's 10/10 her fave RE character so far.

Chapter 7

New Setosa State School, April 29th, 2001 – 22h31

“You’re late, Kennedy.”

It was the first time you were meeting the other Agents in charge of rescuing the residents of New Setosa.

It was quite a walk from the hospital to the school, but something kept everyone moving. Maybe it was all the undead in the way, making everyone keep a steady pace and a quiet step. Maybe it was Leon checking his watch almost every two minutes. Or maybe, it was the adrenaline running in your bodies, screaming inside every soul that they had to do their best to survive.

You didn’t hear a single thing on your way there. The houses, apartments, offices, stores… All quiet – except for the creatures groaning every now and then, noticing your group and trying to follow; too slow to be any kind of threat.

There was only one incident – and an incident that was expected by all of you, if you had to be honest to yourselves. In times of survival, the best side of humanity did show… But so did the worst.

You were quickly, and quietly, walking in the middle of the street – as per Leon orders: sidewalks were too close to establishments that could harbor undead creatures, silently waiting for a surprise attack. You still had the lead and he still preferred to remain on the back, since his odds of survival if he was grabbed by behind were a lot bigger than anyone else in the group.

The elderly lady was doing very well – being helped by Valerie, she could walk fast enough to keep up the pace – but the kid with the father were having a little trouble. The boy seemed to be weak, almost too tired to keep going, but his father was almost carrying him – and would carry his son if he needed to. The lab coat man kept fidgeting, sighing audibly every time you gave the group a couple of seconds to breathe – making him receive stern looks from Leon, who was more of a bleeding heart than you were.

It all happened too quick. The lab coat man, for some reason, insisted on being around the father and son and very close to you. There were a few cars up ahead, but neither of you thought it would be trouble: most cars were destroyed and their owners dead inside of them or roaming outside, undead.

You had no idea where the creature came from: in a split second, what once was a police officer jumped on the lab coat man, fiercely trying to bite his face off.

“Stay back!” You screamed to the other survivors, grabbing one of the creature’s arms and trying to fight it. Those things were strong – and, in all honesty, lab coat man wasn’t the best suited to fight one of them.

Valerie held the elderly woman and signaled the father and the kid to join them. Leon immediately ran towards all of you – but as soon as you managed to take a little weight off the lab coat man, he had the strength to handle the creature by himself.

“Take the ones who are already dying, you fucking shit!” The man threw the undead right into the teen, who was too weak to fight for himself. You gasped, trying to hold it back – but it seemed to slip right between your fingers.

Before the creature could bite the kid into pieces, Leon came through like a bulldozer – punching it right on the face, making it groan and stumble behind, as the teen fell on the floor and tried to crawl back to his father. The man immediately grabbed his son, protecting him with his own body, as Leon took a hunting knife from his holster and buried it under the creature’s chin – impaling its head, making it finally stop.

But the danger wasn’t over: another creature crept to the lab coat man, grabbing his foot and using him as a ladder to stand up and eat him alive.

“You… Damn! Leave me alone! Eat them!” The man struggled a little but was able to throw the creature in your direction – his intention of being around you and the invalid teen quite clear: if anything happened, he would rather have you dead than him.

The creature didn’t have time to reach you, because Leon’s kick on its chest reached it first. With a couple of dodges and some expertly placed knife attacks, he finally placed the killing blow by nailing the knife on its temples, right through its brain.

You couldn’t help but to stare wide eyed as Leon discarded the undead on the floor – who was once a living, breathing person, like you and him – and furiously walked towards the lab coat man. Gripping him by the sweaty shirt, Leon stamped the guy on the side of a destroyed, burning car – which was definitely too hot to the touch, and you could see it on the guy’s face as he winced the more Leon pushed him into the hot metal. Still holding the man’s shirt, Leon had his forearm across his chest, knife on standby in his other hand.

You definitely did not expect that from Leon… But it was a welcome thing, given the circumstances.

“What you think you’re doing, huh? You think you’re better than any of them? That your life is worth more?” Leon’s voice was low and his eyes were filled with something you still hadn’t seen that night – perhaps, that was the man who survived Raccoon City. Who became a Special Agent. “I don’t give a fuck how important you think you are or what your name is. We’re in this shit together, and we only gettin’ out if everyone sticks together. Everyone.” With those words, Leon made the man look right into his eyes – even if the guy couldn’t hold the stare longer than a couple of seconds. “Pieces of shit like you are always the first ones to go. I’m gonna make my best to make sure your sorry ass gets out of here, but if you keep acting like this, something is gonna make sure you won’t. I fucking seen that before.”

You kept quiet, side eyeing Leon as soon as he let the guy go and looked back at you – suddenly, his stare softened again and he sighed, rolling his eyes as if saying it was part of the job.

“Oh, I’m glad you put him in his place. Someone had to do that already.” You murmured back to him, making Leon scoff a slight, humorless laugh.

“You kinda already did back in the hospital.” Placing his knife back in the holster, Leon looked back at you. “If you need anything, call. I’ll be…”

“In the back, I know. Don’t worry.” You winked back, slightly waving your gun. “I can take care of things over here.”

That was the only serious incident. After that, father and son walked close behind you, followed by Valerie and the elderly lady and, on the back, the guy in the lab coat moping around, too scared to look back at Leon carrying the shotgun and giving you – and everyone else – cover.

You were late to the rendezvous at the State School… But all things considered, it was quite the miracle everyone got there in one piece.

“I know. But everyone is alive.” Leon marched towards the stern looking man as soon as the group was safe inside the entrance hall of the school. A few other agents holding rifles and wearing Special Ops gear wandered around – as well as some survivors of all ages and backgrounds. “Like I said they would be. No casualties.”

Rogers lifted his heavy eyebrows as he watched you and the group being welcomed by the few police officers who were brave enough to leave the NSPD and account for all the survivors left in the city. The man still had his arms crossed, but he had to recognize: what Leon just did was quite a feat.

“What about the one who helped us with the broadcast? Were you able to find each other?”

“Yeah. Y/n, right over there.” Leon pointed at you – and, as soon as you heard your name and turned around, he signaled you to come over. After exchanging a few words with Valerie, you regrouped with him. “Y/n, this is Commander Rogers, the man in charge of today’s operation.”

“You set up the broadcast and met Leon halfway through this city swarming with those creatures, no gun in hand, right?” The man asked, shaking your hand with a rather strong grip. You reciprocated in the same manner. “You have to be quite the fighter to do that.”

“Well, we do what we need to survive, sir.” You smiled slightly, taking that as a compliment.

“That we do. We’re leaving at 22h40.” And Rogers looked back at Leon, crossing his arms once more. “We’re escorting the people back to the NSPD and we’ll wait for the extraction at midnight.”

“Copy that, sir. I’ll help with the escort.”

You couldn’t help but to let out a sigh of relief – that nightmare would soon be over and you couldn’t wait to be in a safe place again.

“Hey, banana ice cream.” You heard Leon’s voice by your side, making you smile a little bit. You were taking some time to breathe by yourself in a corner of the school – still close to the survivors – while he talked with Rogers and the other agents. But, of course, Leon would check on you before you left for the NSPD. “How are you doing?”

“Better than expected, I suppose.” You sighed back, giving him some space to lean on the table you were leaning in. It probably belonged to one of the employees in charge of supervising the kids – a place now quiet and somber, that you had no wish to go any further inside. It was probably filled with corpses. “And you? Everything ok?”

“Guess we gonna ask that forever to each other tonight, huh?” He had to tease you, since that question became a staple between you two. You couldn’t hold back a small laugh. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’ve had worse.”

“Hmmm, I can imagine…” You murmured, having no idea how to bring up what you saw in the hospital – speaking to Valerie, she expressed her concerns about Leon having a panic attack; and even if you hadn’t known him for too long, it was something you could understand – to a certain level. “I’ve seen some pretty bad things, being a war correspondent. I mean, it’s part of the job, seeing the worst mankind has to offer… But I never thought I’d see and live through something like this.”

“Yeah, it’s fairly different from a warzone…” Leon sighed back, crossing his arms. “Both are pretty bad actually.” He risked a look at you – watching how your gaze was lost on one of the windows, looking out in the dead, quiet night. It all seemed so peaceful from that point of view. “Why do you do it?”

“What?” You snapped out of your thoughts, turning your eyes back to Leon.

“Bein’ a reporter at war. Why do you do it?” He patiently repeated the question – talking to you was the most calming thing he had that night. And, if he had you to talk to in Raccoon City, it would’ve probably been a little less harrowing of an experience. A little. “You voluntarily go to places where there’s nothing but butchering and blood. You could be doin’ anything else but this, you’re smart enough. So why this?”

“Why do you do what you do?”

That question made Leon furrow his eyebrows immediately, turning quiet for a moment.

“It’s not like I had much of a choice after Raccoon.” He answered quietly, still with that look of concern in his eyes. “I was recruited to be a Special Agent. You can’t turn down something like that.”

It was your turn to become silent. You always thought everyone who followed careers like his did it voluntarily, but there was Leon saying he didn’t have much of a choice. Be it because of his trauma, of his own will or being forced by the government to say yes because he knew too much about the Umbrella incident, you believed in his words.

“Would you have done something too different if you had had a choice?”

Once again, Leon looked back at you with that concern in his eyes. It was probably a question he never really got asked before – and probably never thought of; or avoided thinking of. But now, he had no escape and had to think about it.

“I dunno… Probably would still be a cop.” Leon turned his eyes to his feet, letting out a deep sigh. “Always wanted to help people. Ended up having to save my own skin right at the first day at work… And now, back at Raccoon again, first day as a Special Agent.”

“This is your first day on the job…?” You couldn’t believe his words, but the way Leon smiled and nodded made you trust in what he was saying. “That… Sucks. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, me too. I’m definitely not the guy you wanna have around on your first day at work.”

“It’s bound to be terrific if you’re around.” You teased him a little bit, alleviating some of the tension with a few laughs from both of you.

“But hey, I answered you and you didn’t answer me.” Leon nudged you with his elbow, still having his arms crossed, leaning on the table by your side while you two watched the concentration of agents, policemen and survivors. “You chose a different career, and ended up reporting directly from hell. Out of everything you could choose, why this?”

“Yeah, I know it sucks in theory… And in real life too, it’s not an easy thing and you lose a lot of faith in humanity…” You sighed, now crossing your arms and turning your gaze to an empty spot on the floor. “But… I guess… Not having the option of knowing the truth is worse than having it available. You can choose to remain oblivious and ignore the truth, but it’s still there, being reported to you – you have access to it, you can search for it and learn if you want to. You have the choice. And for you to have the choice, someone has to report it.” You shrugged after a while, sighing once again. It wasn’t much of a reason why, but it was the best you could say at the moment. “I guess, that’s why. Someone’s gotta do it.”

“Aren’t you afraid?”

“Oh, I’m terrified.” You looked back into his eyes, finding his expression of concern – a different kind now; the one Leon wore when he was worried about others. “First time I heard a gunshot close to me, my heart almost jumped out of my mouth. First time I saw a dead mangled body, I couldn’t sleep for weeks. But… You kinda get used to it. A lot of people get desensitized, and I’m probably going down that path too, but… I don’t know. It gets… Less worse with time, I guess.”

“Huh, less worse… I think I get what you mean…” Leon murmured back, now staring at the pattern on the floor as well. Both of you had your gazes lost in something else, while seeing vivid images from your memories. He could remember all the bodies he saw in Raccoon City, all the mutated experiments, all the dismembered people. Destruction everywhere, pieces of bodies everywhere, the streets reeking of blood and closed spaces smelling of entombed death. He had never seen things like that before – Leon was just a rookie cop, on his first job, thinking he would protect and serve; thrown into a warzone, with so much death, so much blood… He dreamt every night his whole body was drenched in it and he could never wash it off. “It becomes routine.”

“Yeah. Something like that…” You murmured back, shaking your head right after. “But I’ve never seen something like tonight. What scares me today is the lack of agency… These townspeople turn into animals, acting like animals, not out of free will – like people during war – but out of… Something that is turning them into these…”

Your words got caught at the tip of your tongue. You had already said that a thousand times that night, but for the first time you were having a level-headed conversation that didn’t involve fighting for survival. The words of your previous boss got in your head, chastising you for your choice of words, and, for a moment, you hesitated.

“C’mon, you can say it. Zombies.”

You and Leon shared a knowing look and couldn’t stop a quiet laugh between you both.

“Zombies.” You agreed right after, nodding slowly. “In a war, you see inhumane acts of cruelty, but you know you could never do that. You know you have morals and the people doing that have none. You know you could never get that low and must report their crimes. But today…?” You shook your head, as if to try to keep a thought away. “If one of those things get to me, I’ll turn into one of them. My mind will die, but my body will keep going, hunting like an animal, to kill and spread whatever the fuck this is. No agency. I’m no better, because my will doesn’t count. It’s not a choice. There’s no reasoning. If they bite me, if they kill me, I’m gone… And I’m one of them.”

“That’s not gonna happen.” Leon almost spoke above your last words, barely allowing you to finish – even so, you had to glance at him with a realistic look in your eyes. Few people had survived that night and, so far, you were lucky. But there was the possibility of your luck ending. You had just as much of a chance of dying to one of those things than anyone else in that room. “Hey. That’s not gonna happen. I’m gonna get you out of here. I promised you an ice cream, didn’t I?”

“That you did. You better keep that promise.” You bantered playfully in return, having a slight smile on your face. Even if Leon was saying that just for saying, you had to admit: it was efficient at calming you down and making you at least a little bit more positive about that night’s outcome. “For me and for you.”

Leon furrowed his brows for a moment, staring at you as if asking for an explanation.

“I don’t wanna leave this place alone. You’re my partner now, right…?” You risked a look at him, seeing how Leon already had a slight smile on his ever so serious lips, ready to quip back; but you had some more things to talk about. “At the hospital… I thought I lost you there for a moment.”

Leon’s eyes immediately turned somber, understanding what you were talking about. If he was going to be honest to himself, he thought he lost himself for a moment too. And that was definitely not good, given his current occupation and situation. It was his first mission after his unforgiving training… And after Raccoon City. No one ever expected the mission would be so similar to what happened to him years prior – and no one could know what kind of reaction Leon would have by being thrown in that sort of mess all over again.

With his training, he learned the best thing he could do was to keep going without thinking too much – but he never really learned what to do if his thoughts assaulted him forcefully, like it happened at the hospital.

“I’m just… Worried.” You tried, wanting to make sure he didn’t understand your words as you seeing him as a hinderance. That was the last thing that crossed your mind. “I’ve been through some pretty bad things too, you know…? And I’ve had some colleagues freeze mid-job because of… Unresolved issues.” You paused for some seconds, almost hearing the gears turning inside Leon’s head. “I… I don’t want that to happen to you.”

“What did you do…?” Leon’s question caught you off guard, making you stare at him with the same inquisitive eyes he turned at you before. “What did you do? To your colleagues who froze mid-job…?”

You flashed him a half-smile on your lips, immediately picking up the undertone in his voice – he wanted to know not only out of curiosity, but to understand where you stood in that matter. You could bet with almost entire certainty that Leon buried things inside himself because he didn’t want to look weak or to be a burden to people: his job was to be the hero, not to be the one cared about. What kind of hero needs support? What kind of hero had weaknesses?

You could almost hear his superiors saying he “couldn’t be a pussy” to survive his Special Agent training – and any kind of weakness, be it from feelings or trauma, would definitely be seen as ��being a pussy”. You had seen that before.

“I carried them out of harm’s way and dragged them to our base. I’d never leave them behind.” You still had that smile on your lips, but your tone was soft and reassuring. Something in the way you spoke, made Leon’s shoulders lose a little tension and the expression in his face soften. “We’re human. Everyone breaks, one way or another. We just need people around us to lean on when our knees falter. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Nothing wrong with that…” Leon murmured more to himself than anything else, turning his gaze back to the spot on the floor you were once staring. He had many things to think about – but that was not the time nor the place to do so. “Did it ever happen to you?”

“Yeah, couple of times. Panic attacks suck.” You sighed, turning your gaze outside. It wasn’t something you were too comfortable talking about, but it was the very first time Leon heard it from someone else – and could share it. He needed it, and you wouldn’t deny that kind of help. You once stood in his shoes as well. “There are a few situations that trigger me still, though I kinda have it under control most of the time. It’s always good to have someone else around to help. If I don’t, though, I can only swallow it up and keep going – only to let all that tension go a few days later when I’m safe. Guess it happens to everyone with our kind of… Situation.”

“Huh. Guess so…” He nodded slowly, still going over your words. “I…” And Leon turned silent for a moment. You wouldn’t force him to say anything: if he wanted to stop talking, you would stay there in silence. He had to go at his own pace – but he had to move somewhere, or he would forever be stuck with that inside of him. “I still think about Raccoon sometimes. I still see some things… Some people… The blood. It’s still there, somewhere.” The way he spoke, it was as if Raccoon City was still alive. “It’s all happening. I don’t… Want to think about it. I don’t. But sometimes… It comes back. Even if I don’t want to.”

“Like a drop kick to your chest…?” You tried and he immediately turned his eyes towards you, but this time sporting a knowing smile on his lips. For the very first time, Leon was talking with someone who understood, even if you weren’t there in Raccoon City that night. He thought he would never meet someone who hadn’t lived through it who would understand. “And then you can’t breathe properly…”

“Your hands start shaking and you feel like you’re going to throw up.” He completed your thoughts, with you nodding enthusiastically in return. Something else stirred in his chest, though, something different. Like the joy of finally being seen by someone you admire in a crowd full of indifferent people – of not having to pretend all the time. “It fucking sucks.”

“Oh, it does. Been there.” As you agreed, you both let out quick laughs of complicity. You were also never so open about that before – but for the first time, sharing your experience might have a good outcome; and you were glad you took that leap of faith, with Leon there to catch you and not allow you to fall on the fields of self-consciousness from oversharing. “But we don’t have to go through that alone tonight.”

“Hmmm. Guess we don’t…” Leon shook his head, allowing himself to take a deep breath. For the first time in years, he had this weird – and alleviating – sensation that a weight had lifted from his shoulders. His grayish sea eyes turned back to you, now a little less worried than before. “Partner.”

“I’m gonna tell the President that’s my role now, he better accept me on the ranks.” Your serious answer made him immediately laugh – probably the first genuine laugh you ever heard from him. “Codename banana ice cream reporting for duty to work with codename choco chip, that’s how it’s gonna be.”

“Oh, he’s gonna accept it in no time.” Leon bantered back, enjoying how absurd it all sounded. A few jokes were always good to lift the spirits – but he wouldn’t lie: having you around would be a welcome thing, if that ever happened. Maybe you’d get recruited just like he was, after you escaped New Setosa. “But hey, at the hospital… You had something goin’ on your mind too, when we were leavin’. Whatever it is, you can tell me. You don’t need to go bananas on your own.”

“Oh, that was horrible…” You shook your head after hearing his dad joke, but the smile on your lips gave away it was exactly the kind of humor you needed that day. Leon smiled back a little bit, but still carried worry in his eyes. “Yeah, well… You shared your worries with me, it’s only fair that I do the same, right…?”

“Right.” Given how tentatively your question was, Leon immediately answered you in the firmest manner he could. He wouldn’t let you run away.

“Hmmm… Maybe you can help me out a bit with this…” You sighed, looking down at your feet. For some reason, you couldn’t stand looking into his eyes when thinking about the things that crossed your mind at the hospital – like you said before, in times of war, you knew your morals wouldn’t allow you to commit atrocities. But you were living times of survival – and, sometimes, morals had to be abandoned in order to save yourself. You hated that. “That hospital is really big. It’s for the whole city and it’s very well equipped. A lot of people stay there for days, weeks, or even months…” You took a deep breath, closing your eyes. “I doubt there are only a handful of survivors in that place. If we went in deeper, I bet we would find so many others… So many people that survived so far only to be entombed in that place of death and sickness to slowly perish. It’s horrible. I…” You opened your eyes again, finally looking back at him – with a contrary resolve of someone who has been told by a higher power they cannot do the right thing. “I wanted to go in, to help them. We were there, we were so close. As far as we know, we could’ve passed by so many people and not even realize it. I didn’t want to leave them behind, but… If we didn’t, we wouldn’t have saved the ones who are here with us now, right…? I don’t know, I…”

But you sighed again, looking back at the lost spot on the floor, shaking your head. You had already said a lot and there was nothing you could string coherently into words anymore – there were only a storm of feelings stirring in your heart and that you couldn’t give him. You could only try to explain.

Leon also lowered his head. He knew exactly what you were talking about. You two cared – and, during his training as a Special Agent, he would be scolded exactly because he “cared too much”. To someone in his line of work, caring too much was a weakness: you had to do what you were ordered to do – and what you could do. And that meant, sometimes, working out the odds and literally choosing who would live and who would die. Leon despised that, which made Rogers have a few doubts in his heart about the rookie: in Leon’s book, everyone survived. No sacrifices. No choices.

“You want to save everyone.” He finally finished your thought for you, saying the words you thought you would be too ridiculous when saying out loud. A ‘hero complex’ as most people would say – but he preferred to think of it as a survivor thing. “You have the chance to save yourself, you have the resources, you have the strength and the will. Why can’t you extend that to the people who need it? Sometimes, all they need is a helping hand to save their asses too.” He looked back at you and you could see not only his characteristic bleeding compassion, but also a tad of… Emptiness. “You can help. So why wouldn’t you? Who are you to choose who lives and who dies? Who are you to choose who deserves it or not…?”

You nodded in agreement while your heart lost weight inside your chest. People always used to say that was one of your weaknesses, how much you cared. But seeing Leon that night, watching him work and help so many people… You could barely call it a weakness.

“I had many times in my life that I only needed someone to give me a helping hand.” You shook your head, but agreed with every word he said. Maybe, that’s how he felt when you understood his problem – and now, it was your turn to be seen. “And I know how it feels like when no one helps. How harrowing. How desolating. It makes you want to give up everything – and I bet there are many people in that hospital thinking the same thing. I…” And you sighed, crossing your arms. “I don’t want to be indifferent. I don’t want to make that choice. The choice to close my eyes and ignore everyone else suffering around me just because I’m safe and comfortable. I want to go there where they are and bring them to safety with me… That’s what they deserve. That’s what everyone deserves.”

“Hmmm… I know the feeling…” Leon’s answer was a murmur, but it wasn’t a lie. He knew exactly how it felt – how disgusting it was to only save his own skin when he could try to save someone else too. He wasn’t better than anyone else – and, apparently, that was the same thought that haunted you when you were leaving the hospital that night. “It’s something you gotta learn to deal with… The guilt, it’ll always be there. At some point, the screams will turn quieter and stop, even if your heart feels heavy. And that’s why we have to know what we can do, what’s within our reach.” Leon looked at you, making you reciprocate his stare. Even if his eyes could be cold and empty, at that moment, they had his quiet empathy as well. “You said it yourself. We’re human. There’s only so much we can do. We have to understand those limitations and make sure we did the very best with all we had at the moment. That’s how I learned to deal with it.”

“Hmmm…” You ruminated those words for a couple of seconds, barely noticing a commotion forming in front of you. A new, very small, group of survivors had just arrived – and a man tried to talk with as many policemen and agents as possible, trying to find the one in charge. “Guess we are doomed to be haunted by our humanity, you and me…”

“Hmmm. You can put it that way too.” Leon considered, crossing his arms, but looking less pensive than you. “It’s a lot more poetic.”

“I do have a weak spot for poetry.” You answered in a matter-of-fact tone, after a sigh. Thinking too much about everything he said at that very moment wouldn’t be the best of things – you had too much to do and too much to survive. You needed to focus on that – you could spend time with philosophy later, in a chopper back to safety. “Oh, salty sea, so much of whose salt is Portugal tears!”**

Leon furrowed his brows, but had a slight smile on his lips. He had never heard that before – not that he was well versed in poems, but that one was completely unknown to him – and he would have asked you to go on your declamation, but the commotion was now fully formed. The man spoke loudly, being held by a couple of agents, trying to speak to anyone who would listen.

“You are going to get them all killed! Killed!” His words would’ve been considered furious if his eyes didn’t carry so much desperation. “Their blood will be in your hands! You have to do something!”

You and Leon glanced at each other, finally leaving your small pause. It was a miracle, even, that you had so much time to rest and talk – and a much needed one, if any of you had to say so. Now, it was time to go back to work.

“Sir… Please, sir. Calm down.” As Leon approached, he tried to get the man to stop fighting with the agents. They glanced at Leon as he quickly nodded. “I’ll talk to him. You can let him go.”

“What happened, sir?” You mirrored Leon’s way of speaking: it was probably the best way to get the man to stop fighting and talk to you. “You can explain to us.”

“Well, that’s already a lot better than those brutes! There’s no reasoning with the likes of you!” He pointed at Leon, fixing the pair of glasses on his face and trying to comb his hair back with his fingers.

“He’s… Different.” You only realized you were saying something mid-answer, to which you made yourself stop as soon as you noticed you’d have to say something about Leon. The man in question only looked back at you with a question in his eyes – which you decided to ignore. “He’s not a brute. Well, not only.” And it started going downhill quickly, with Leon crossing his arms and just watching it all unfold in front of him. You had better stop before you said something you would regret later. “He has a good heart. You can talk to us.”

But you couldn’t have stopped, could you? Leon had a shadow of a smile on his lips while you just decided to completely ignore him and pay attention to the man as if it was all on purpose and you weren’t feeling self-conscious for your attempt at calming the man enough so he would talk to both of you – and not just curse Leon and “his type”.

“They won’t listen.” The man huffed, resting his hands on his hips, shaking his head. “I’m a doctor at the hospital, one of the very few who survived. I came here with a couple other ones who managed to barricade inside a room with me until we heard the broadcast on Channel 8.” With those words, you and Leon exchanged a look that could only be defined by pride and excitement. To think your plan worked, that made all the horror you had already lived through that night worth it. “We were deeper into the hospital. That place… It’s…” The man shook his head once more, apparently holding back some tears. He took a deep breath and looked back at you with resolve in his eyes. “As we were trying to leave, we found a body, another doctor… A colleague, a friend… Pediatrician. He was slaughtered on the floor, but he managed to write a message on the wall with his own blood before dying… ‘There are children inside’. Those were the words.”

And those words fell between you like led – being accompanied by dead silence. Neither you nor Leon could say something at that moment: your suspicions were correct, and a lot worse than you had expected. So far, you could see only a few children with their parents – either one or two, but there weren’t many of them. It was very unlikely for a child to survive, but a group of them…? You never saw it coming.

“Did you see them? Where are they?” Leon’s questions came right after the initial shock. The man started shaking his head frantically.

“We tried to get to the pediatric wing, but it’s far into the hospital…” He sighed, fixing the glasses on his face once more. “This doctor, we searched his pockets. He had a note inside, here… Lemme find it…” The man searched all of his own pockets, only to find a note stained in blood and hand it over to you and Leon. “It tells a little more how they were able to save as many children as they could and lock themselves somewhere safe. They won’t be able to leave there on their own. They need help. They need a rescue team.”

Leon had the note in his hands, but you read it together – silently, somberly, hating yourselves for being right about having more survivors in the hospital.

To anyone reading this,

I’m Dr. Howard, from the Pediatric Wing at the Arklay Hill Hospital. With the virus spreading fast, me and Dr. Willows quarantined as many uninfected children as possible in the X-ray room. It has good protection and we grabbed some food and water along the way, before locking the door and barricading it. We have eight children with us – most of them sick or injured – but all of them are free from the virus that has spread through the hospital.

We hoped to be rescued, but so far, no one came. We are suspecting they have considered everyone in the hospital to be dead – but that is far from the truth. We need help – we need to save those children. Upon talking to Dr. Willows, we decided one of us should try to leave and find help.

I volunteered – Dr. Willows has hurt her ankle when we were quickly helping the children we could, so I’m the best choice. I will do my best to find help, to have them rescued. All our efforts won’t be in vain.

But… If I can’t. If I die before I can find someone, I hope this note gets in the hands of someone capable to help. I beg you: these are sweet, scared children, locked in a room with another doctor who is doing everything in her power to keep them alive. We have to help them. They cannot die there, not after… Everything we done. We have to try. I have to try.

Please. They are in the X-ray room, Pediatric Wing, Arklay Hill Hospital. I have attached a hospital map to this note, it’s the place circled in blue. I know it won’t be easy, but please… They are alive. Please, save them.

As a final note: we have been hearing loud steps outside the room. It has been difficult to get the children not to scream, they are very scared, but they learned to control their fear and stay quiet. It isn’t something like the people who die and come back to life affected by the virus – those are slow, usually dragging their feet and body, groaning or screaming like animals – these steps are different. They are heavier, faster, paced… Sentient. I cannot think of someone who would be able to survive and walk around those creatures so peacefully, so I can only think it's one of the… Other atrocities. It’s roaming the deeper areas of the hospital, and it eventually goes back to the Pediatric Wing. Whoever comes to the rescue, be warned. And be careful.

The man looked at you and Leon with expectation – his heavy breath and sweat almost blurring his glasses. As you finished reading the note, your gaze met Leon’s grayish sea eyes.

“We cannot leave them.”

Something inside Leon knew you would say those words – and at the same time he had a surge of pride when seeing your eyes filled with certainty as you spoke, he also had dread stirring in his stomach; for he knew quite well you wouldn’t let him go alone.

“We won’t.”

And you almost smiled back as Leon’s answer had as much conviction to its words as yours.

You both just had to go through Commander Rogers first.

**Portuguese Sea, Fernando Pessoa

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thequietkid-moonie · 7 months ago

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"If something happens just know that i will always love you"

[ REACTION ] [ Yuki, Kurumi, Yuri ]

[ School life! / Gakkou Gurashi! ]

⚠️ This contain a little bit of spoilers in Yuki's part

Hehe after an eternity i FINALLY found the inspiration to write for this lovely girls, aaaand, of course, with a beautiful and angsty prompt, thinking on the canon situation!

Maybe one of these days I will write for them in a au without the whole zombie situation! It would be interesting too!

Yuki Takeya

Despite everything Yuki have always being cheerful and affectionate, she is living her happy school life at the best with her friends, and even when she became aware of the situation all of you were in she stayed quite optimistic, wanting to keep her hope for her friends

Its thanks that she has you and her new friends that she can keep going with a smile, aware or not having you around make her truly happy, what makes her keep smiling and is also what want to make you smile

This is a tricky situation, if you say this when she is still unawere, living her fantasy, she will not exactly understand the full meaning of your words, even so it will have a great impact on her, even if she doesn't get the true meaning since she is living in her fantasy of a normal life in her mind for her is like a heavy confesion of love, as if you were telling her that you want to spend the rest of your life with her, she will be way too flustered and blushy to answer and getting quite shy for a while, but at the end is something that make her really happy

However, if she is already aware of what happen it will have a great impact in the opposite way, now that she knows the real threaten that is around and that the posibility of losing you is real, hearing you say this is way too shocking for her, she has barely being able to deal with knowing what have truly happened and you saying this make her suddenly too aware again

After hearing your words Yuki will stare at you for a moment as her mind process your words before start to cry and throwing herself to your arms, crying her heart out and repeating over and over again how much she loves you and that she will always love you, all of this is too shocking for her that she can barely handle it

After calming down Yuki will look at you with determination, saying that she will always love you too but also that you have nothing to worry about since she will be here for you, now that she knows she will never let you carry this heavy burden alone again, now she can protect you too and will do everything in he power to do so, promising that you two will have a long and happy life together now that she can protect you (even when deep down she isn't sure if she will be able to keep that promise she wants to at least try)

Kurumi Ebisuzawa

Kurumi is more than aware of the situation all of you are trapped in, she is the one who is constantly checking the barricades and the shovel she carriles everywhere gives her a sense of security, is not much but at least she isn't completely defensless

Having you at her side, the person she loves, is quite comforting, after losing so much having someone so important at her side (along with her friends) is a great motivation to don't give up and keep fighting. Kurumi normally doesn't express it, or at least not out loud but she always make sure you know and never forget that

Hearing you say those words cause her to have mixed feelings, from one side she is touched by the meaning of your words, making her feel like all this fighting to survive is actually right, but for the other side it makes her painfuly aware of the true extent fo the threaten all of you have to face, you want to be ready for the worst and want her to know that no matter what happened the love you have for her is something will never change

It will depend in when you say it, if you two were having a moment to let the sorrow of your heart get out then Kurumi will let some tears fall, she doesn't want to lose you but in this situation it is a posibility, no matter how much she wants to protect you and keep you at her side nothing can fully assure your safety. In the other hand, if you say it while just hanging out Kurumi will just stare at you before laughing and trying to light up the mood, calling you sappy and saying things like nothing bad will happen in an attempt to easy her raising heart

But not matter what your words will be stuck in her mind forever, because if something happen she wants to remember you like this, lovely and sappy. Even so, it would be a lie if Kurumi denies that your words have affected her and make her fear, she is too anxious right now, she doesn't want to lose you, or worst, seeing you transform in one of those monsters, she knows she won't be able to face you, let alone, fight you if something like that happen

Kurumi will be quite anxious and wary for some time after you say this, wanting to be extra sure nothing bad happens, quietly showing you (and herself) that, at least for now, you are safe and with her

Yuri Wakasa

Yuri has become a pilar for all the sistem the girls have to be around the school, is mainly her who keeps the resources in check and knows when is time to go for more, is a quite dificult job since is a little stressing but Yuri feels this is her way to protect her friends and he lover, so she does it happily

Having you around is a great comfort for Yuri, she hates that all of you have to live now under this circumstances but is happy to know that you are safe and sound, and always has the time to make one or two jokes about the situation in hopes to light up the mood

Yuri is well aware of the situation and yet want to stay positive, for the sake of all (specially Yuki, if she can't accept the reality she doesn't want to be the one forcing her to see it, specially if all are safe right now), however, it will hit her really hard hearing you say those words

She doesn't like hearing you say something like that, it feels like a goodbye and she isn't ready to lose you, not you too, if you say it out of the blue or when you two have a moment to relax, maybe you two were thinking on the plan for the next days, in any case her reaction will be the same, stoping whatever is she doing to stare at you, stuck between the shock and sadness, she knows the situation is that bad and she knows is a risk, but she doesn't like the fact that you are assuring it will happen (or at least raising the possibility)

It will take her a moment to composed herself, calming down her raising heart before thanking you, she understand why do you say it and she appreciate what you are trying to say but please try to dont talk about it, she wants to stay as far as posible as that idea to keep the hope, even so after a while, once she finally manage to calm down she will say that she feels the same, no matter what happen she will always love you, and if you two get separate she will do everything that is in her power to get back to your side

However, if you say it before getting out to try to find more resources then Yuri won't take it too well, she is scare enough to heard you say those things, she looks at you feeling a little angry but after taking some deep breaths she will take you hand and say that is the same for her

The idea of losing you or any of her friends is too scary for her, she prefers to avoid thinking on it, but since your words stuck in her heart and mind Yuri prefers to think on them as the good meaning, as how you are telling her how much you love her

#school live #school live x reader #gakkou gurashi #gakkou gurashi x reader #yuki takeya #yuki takeya x reader #yuki x reader #kurumi ebisuzawa #kurumi ebisuzawa x reader #kurumi x reader #yuri wakasa #yuri wakasa x reader #yuri x reader #x reader #x gn reader #anime x reader #manga x reader

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minhio22 · 10 months ago

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Happy birthday Hajun

It's something i wrote like mid may at night on my bunk bed at dorms a year ago in my book. Its more self indulgent than anything. But damn do i love reading this thing for myself over and over again.

Currently you were running around BAE’s shared apartment trying to get the place ready for a certain someone’s birthday. For the most part you were trying to keep Anne away from burning the kitchen down or making something unedible. Wouldn't want anyone dying on Hajun’s birthday now do we?

You managed to pull Anne away from the kitchen and kept them busy by blowing balloons. You were helping Allen with the streamers now. Despite your nervously shaking hands you managed to keep a steady conversation going with him, that is until he mentioned your shaking hands.

“Say Y/n, why are your hands shaking?” He asked innocently.

You smiled at him nervously. “Well I'm afraid that I might mess this whole thing up. Also I feel like I'm forgetting something but I can't put my finger on it.” You said while thinking about what you might have forgotten.

“Don't worry about it. I'm sure Hajun appreciates that his girlfriend is throwing a party for him. Besides, he's infatuated with you. I've never seen him like that before he got with you.” Allen smiled sweetly at you.

The moment the word ‘girlfriend’ was uttered from him your face had turned red. Despite being together for a while now you couldn't help that help but still become a blushing mess around Hajun. It doesn't help that he finds your blushing face cute and keeps teasing you just to see it. Sometimes you wondered how you managed to land one of the most popular guys at campus and lived to tell the tale. You didn't say anything else and opted to stay quiet as you continue to decorate the apartment.

You were staring at a freshly frosted cake thinking hard about something. You had baked the cake according to Hajun’s preferences that you had apparently stored in your mind and managed to not forget when you asked him what kind of cake he likes a while ago.

“I'm seriously forgetting something.” You mumbled while mindlessly placing strawberries on the cake.

Anne and Allen were deciding on how to surprise Hajun when he came in. He's still not back from his modeling job. You wondered what kind of clothes he was modeling for this time. As if somehow Hajun knew you were thinking about it, your phone buzzed. You unlocked it and read the message Hajun sent. You blushed and stared at your phone when you saw that he had sent you a selfie of himself in the clothes he was modeling for. Insert description for whatever hecking clothes u want.

There was also a message attached to it. ‘Be back soon.’

Ever since that one time where you accidentally confessed that you liked seeing him in the clothes for his countless modeling jobs, he wouldn't stop teasing you that time but ever since that day he would send you a selfie of himself during his photoshoot. Hajun would also give you a copy of the magazines he's starring in everytime they came out to which you said that you would give it to someone else which you never did. In fact all of them were in your room in a slightly hidden corner of your bookshelf. You would never tell him that you still kept it because Hajun would tease you relentlessly. He still kept giving you the magazines though but you didn't mind it since it meant that you didn't have to spend money on them. He probably secretly knew you never got rid of them. Perks of having a rich boyfriend I guess.

While lost in your thoughts, you suddenly heard the jingle of keys and the three of you stopped in your tracks. In a flash you, Anne and Allen were hiding near the door with party poppers in your hands.

“I'm home.” Rung throughout the apartment as none of you said anything. Hajun stepped in and the three of you bursted out of your hiding place shouting ‘happy birthday’.

There was a slight look of surprise on his face but was then replaced with his usual smiling expression. Hajun was staring particularly at you who was standing at the back of the group as he made his way to you with a mischievous and teasing smile.

You were staring at gum, blushing madly with your mouth slightly agape. You didn't even pull your party popper too stunned when you saw him, your brain couldn't process the beauty that was Yeon Hajun standing in front of you, ready to tease you while brushing a stray hair away from your face.

“Like what you see?” Hajun teased.

“I-i. W-waht? Huh?” You were at a loss for words that you just blushed harder and gently pulled the part popper off in his face.

Hajun just laughed at your reaction as bits of streamers hit his face. “I bought it just for today.” Hajun gestured to his outfit. “Enjoying the view?”

You didn't answer as you were taking in all of the details of him. Insert description of hajun's outfit from his birthday illust last year cause i cannot for the live of myself describe it rn and im too lazy. Hajun smirked when you didn't answer and just continued staring. You blushed as humanly possible when you realize you're staring and nodded slowly at him.

“Awww you're so cute.” He pecked your cheek and took your hand leading you to the dining room as you got flustered over the kiss. “Come on. Anne and Allen are waiting for us.”

Indeed they were. The two left you two alone in your little world not wanting to disturb the moment. They had already started eating but left the cake untouched.

“Hurry up, you two lovebirds. I want to eat Y/n’s cake.” Anne exclaimed.

You got embarrassed at the statement as Hajun chuckled. You sat beside Hajun and he stood in front of the cake holding a knife. Allen had taken the liberty of taking videos and pictures as you all sang the happy birthday song as he blew out the candles and cut the cake.

The cake had been cut and the first slice had gone to Hajun. You handed him a fork to which he gave his thanks with that charming smile of his that makes your knees weak. You smiled at him sweetly. He took a bit of his cake and his face instantly lit up. He gestured for you to come closer and you did. Anne and Allen had already started eating again and left you two to your shenanigans. You tilted your head wondering what he wanted.

“Did you like the picture I sent you?” He whispered in your ear. The closeness made you flustered and you nodded. Hajun seemed satisfied with your lack of words for an answer and backed up and took another bite of the cake. “You really outdid yourself this time. I love it.” Hajun praised you.

“Glad to hear.”

“Do you want the strawberry?” Hajun knew about your fondness for fruits and that small gesture made your heart melt.

“I shouldn't. It's your cake.”

The whole time you were saying this he took the strawberry from his slice of cake using the fork and held it in front of your lips. “And that means I can do what I want with it.”

You couldn't argue with that so you ate the strawberry he fed you with a shy but satisfied smile. Allen and Anne were long gone from the dinner table, opting to sit at the living room in front of the TV to give you privacy to flirt but it's mainly just Hajun teasing you.

You savored the strawberry as its sweetness danced on your tongue. Hajun seemed to be enjoying himself, making you blush and teasing you was one of his favourite past times.

“Do you want a taste of the cake now?” Hajun asked.

You nodded nervously as if he would do something unexpected next. And unexpected things he did.

You didn't even have time to comprehend what happened when you felt something soft on your lips. Your eyes were wide open in surprise while Hajun’s were closed, leaning in to kiss you gently.

That sudden action made your heart melt and blush harder than ever. The kiss wasn't short nor was it too long. It lasted long enough that you could taste the cake he had taken a bite of before kissing you. Hajun pulled away and you were to say at the very least dazed and breathless.

Hajun on the other hand had a faint blush on his face but he seemed happy and proud of himself. He was caressing your cheek now. “So? How was it?”

“It tasted sweet.” You mumbled embarrassedly which elicited a chuckle from him.

“I see… Now I wonder what you got me for my present.”

It hit you then. The thing you had forgotten but desperately tried to recall and failed to do so. Hajun seemed to notice the slight shift in your expression.

“What's wrong?”

You felt extremely guilty having forgotten this one important thing. Tears threaten to spill but you didn't want to embarrass yourself over this small thing. “I-i forgot. I'm sorry.”

He rubbed your cheek with his thumb as his gaze softened. “It's alright. Besides you, being my girlfriend is the best gift I could have.” That just you blush seeing him soft like this.

“But you could make it up to me.” You questioned him about what it was. He then moved his thumb on your lip, a slight mischievous and hungry glint in his eyes. “Let's just say….. I won't be letting you sleep tonight.” He grinned.

Nevermind butterflies in your stomach, you felt like you had jumping beans in them. If it was possible to invent a new shade of red, your face definitely did it. Hajun’s expression went back to its usual smile that he put up around other people but that look in his eyes was still there. You couldn't lie and say that it didn't excite you but you felt nervous knowing how he could be. Let's just say you really didn't sleep much that night.

Im leaving the ending up to yalls imagination. What did they do? Idk ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯ maybe they stayed up late playing video games.

#hajun yeon x reader #paradox live #oneshot #birthday oneshot #happy birthday hajun u sadistic mf #paradox live x reader #i for the life of myself cannot describe clothing rn maybe ill come back and actually write it also ill do layout when i feel like it dkdbd #i love this thing i wrote in my tiny book when i was at school still #mid typing it out i realise hajun eating sweets isnt accurate but i was new to the fandom that time so leave me be #also its mostly self indulgence i wrote this #mostly its for myself but here u go #yeon hajun #hajun yeon #yeon hajun x reader

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tojiscrack · 8 months ago

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I was going to send you random things I think about your story but then I got shy and just didn’t 🥹🥹 But I saw someone else do one and I think reader from liar liar would have a realllyyy good friendship with Haibara (I dont know if he teaches in their highschool like Gojo Shoko and Nanami?) cuz someone on tt said that Haibara’s exactly like Yuji and I agree 🤗 Also where does Geto teach or does he twach at all?

liar, liar masterlist here

omg don’tttt be shy 😭 i’m literally on my hands and knees begging you guys to have chats with me, i love yapping 😡 (🥹)

yeah, i didn’t get to mention it because they don’t have classes with him (which just confirms that he is teaching there 😙). i LOVE LOVE LOVEEE haibara, like we only got to see him less than five times in the manga/anime, but he stole my heart and ran (died) with it 🙄 yay for haibara and nanami tho, living happily as they should have (gege i’m in ur walls)

i probably wouldn’t have had nanami teach there if i didn’t plan on haibara being there because, yk, canon parallels and stuff 🙃 he teaches art though, because idk, haibara just gives me art teacher that’s super-duper kind and lovely lol

as for suguru, i mentioned something about him in chapter 2 (i think?) elementary school when y/n and megumi were prank calling satoru. i showed you my spin on the kfc split, suguru chose to teach in a rich, private school without telling satoru and satoru was forever pissed at him for that (they’re still besties but satoru will always act as if he committed… idk, crimes against humanity? 😇)

your question was lovely, ty for sending it in! <3

#liar liar asks!#i love uuuuu #missing them hours #everyone lives happily in this universe #everyone lives and NOBODY dies #i want to go to their high school so bad :/#or any #for that matter #cuz i’m in the uk and i hate it here #give me my junior year right neeooowww 😡#keep asking more questions guys #i’m telling you it’s the only way i get up and actually write #in fact i just finished my final exam of this year #politics :/#but i’m free now! (not exactly but still)#so take advantage of that :)#megumi x reader #megumi x y/n

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rizatouchesthewalls · 2 years ago

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when i say i’m in my happy era i mean i have a 33-63% in most of my classes and i haven’t done my homework in weeks

#this is bad for me and my grades but do I care? not really #it’s called having a life #and prioritizing living instead of selling my soul to the bitches who run my school #ao3 #self inflcited achromatic #bsd x reader #school is hell #gifted kid #audhd

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writing-good-vibes · 1 year ago

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another lonely valentine's day

💗 happy valentine's day !! 💗 what better way to celebrate than to make our favourite babygirl suffer? this takes place in an au where the accident never happened, and corey is still working towards his college dreams by mowing lawns, having affairs and babysitting.

WARNING for corey cunningham x roger allen relationship, age difference, infidelity, unhealthy relationship dynamics, smut (non-penetrative and oral sex), angst from a guy who is upset that his married boyfriend doesn't love him, some mildly stalkerish behaviour, and some arguable hurt/comfort. 4.5K word count.

🎀 very cute dividers by @/gigittamic 🎀

taglist: @slutforstabbings @ethanhoewke @voxmortuus (just let me know if you want to be added or removed !!)

"Corey?"

Corey sighs and checks the time. It had only been ten minutes since he put Jeremy to bed.

"Corey?!" Jeremy calls again, louder this time, his voice high and lifting at the end of his name. It grates on Corey's nerves.

"What is it now, Jeremy?"

"I'm thirsty!"

"You've just had a glass of milk."

"I want another one!"

They had a deal -- since Jeremy had gotten in so much trouble for his silly prank last Halloween and Corey had very generously done some self-serving damage control -- that Corey would let Jeremy do whatever he wanted (within some reason, as negotiable on the night, but usually involving too much energy for Corey's liking), and stay up as late as he wanted after he went to bed, in exchange for leaving Corey alone for the rest of the night. And if he didn't, Corey would tell Mr Allen just how much of a little shit Jeremy had been for him. It was a system that worked, even if it meant telling a couple of white lies about the evening's activities.

Jeremy was always a brat, it must have been coded directly into his DNA, but he'd been extra irritating before going to bed tonight. He tended to talk Corey's ear off anyway, asking personal questions that Corey would always lie in response to whether he strictly speaking needed to or not, and tonight he had extra ammunition.

"Don't you have a girlfriend?"

"No."

"Why not? It's because you're so ugly, isn't it."

"No, I just don't have one. I could if I wanted to."

"No you couldn't. Girls don't like boys who are ugly and poor. That's why you're bossing me around on Valentine's Day."

The back of Corey's neck itched. Sure, that's why he was spending his Valentine's Day babysitting the brattiest kid he'd ever met. Because no one wants to go out with him. Not because Jeremy's dad says "Jump," and Corey asks "How high?"

He shuts Jeremy up by letting him watch a playthrough on youtube of some horror videogame that one of Corey's friends back in high school would talk about nonstop. Turns out the game is way less scary when some hunk just talks over it, and although some of the music starts to freak him out a little, Corey surprises himself when he laughs along with Jeremy at most of the scares, even at the rabbit.

After traipsing back upstairs with another glass of milk, warm this time, Corey leaves Jeremy with a warning not to bother him again. Our deal, remember?

"What are you doing on Valentine's day?"

"Nothing," Corey replies, much too quickly. He can hear Mr Allen stifle a chuckle on the other end of the phone. Corey's cheeks burn, "Um, I mean, I don't have any plans, yet." Yet. As if they're lining up round the block to take Corey out and he just hasn't decided who's worth his time. "Why?"

"Well, Theresa and I were wondering if you'd be able to babysit Jeremy for a few hours?"

Corey bites his lips so hard he can taste blood. He soothes it with his tongue, "Sure, no problem." He kicks himself later for being such a sucker.

Mrs Allen is flustered when he arrives, putting the final touches of lipstick and perfume on while she explains the usual ground rules. Corey knows the drill. She looks beautiful, with her hair loose and curly around her shoulders and red flowers on her dress. He tries to imagine his own momma getting dressed up for a date, but he struggles to remember Momma and Ronald ever going anywhere without him. They hadn't even had a honeymoon.

Corey hovers awkwardly, trying to keep out of the way as Mrs Allen buzzes around, from the mirror to the coat stand by the door. While she puts her coat on, Corey's eyes wander as Mr Allen comes downstairs in a pressed suit. He waves at the older man, who gives him a wink that dangerously toes the line of 'friendly', before he disappears towards the kitchen.

"Oh!" Mrs Allen starts, before lowering her voice. "There's a box of chocolates in the kitchen for you, Corey. Roger put them on top of the fridge so Jeremy wouldn't see them; a little treat for you after he goes to bed."

Corey checks the time again. He hasn't heard a peep from Jeremy for a while, which is a good sign.

But the TV isn't holding his attention tonight like it normally does, and even though the Allens always tell him he can use their Netflix, he just can't settle on a movie.

Instead he scrolls through Roger's profile for a while, looking at his watch list and what he's been currently watching, what's been recommended to him and his most popular categories. Corey makes mental notes of where their tastes are similar and where they differ, thinks of how he can subtly integrate all of this into a conversation, to show just how interesting he is, how compatible they are.

His rumbling stomach puts an end to his media-stalking for now. Momma had made meatloaf for dinner, as grainy and bland as always, and Corey hadn't been able to stomach much of it. Not with the butterflies fluttering in his gut as he watched the clock, desperate to get out of the house a soon as possible tonight.

He lets a movie start playing, some 90's thriller than everyone in his American Lit. class used to rave about, before pulling himself off the couch and wandering into the kitchen.

The Allens' fridge is always fully stocked. Fruit and vegetables in the crisper, health foods that Corey's never even heard of before, branded candy and juice and condiments fill the door, cuts of meat that they probably actually knew how to cook instead of turning them to rubber or relying on boxes of lean cuisine. They even have an ice maker. There's a couple of bottles of Heineken -- because Roger only drinks Heineken in the house -- at the very front. It feels like a trick, Corey takes one anyway.

On top of the fridge, amongst juice boxes and tin that could be cookies but Corey guesses might be their sewing kit, is a red, heart-shaped box of chocolates. Just like Mrs Allen promised. Corey holds it in his hands, rubs his thumb against the satiny pink ribbon that wraps around it.

In middle school, Corey had gotten a Valentine's candygram one year. He walked into homeroom and found the pink paper heart and a cherry flavoured dumdum sat conspicuously on his desk.

There was a chorus of hushed giggles from behind him. Over his shoulder he sees Kelly and her friends, whispering. Whispering made Corey nervous. Then, Kelly waves at him shyly, a knowing smile on her face. He waved back, face burning.

He ate the lollipop over lunch, and folded the pink paper heart and put it in his pocket, carried it around with him all week. Sometimes he'd take it out to look at it, reading the message over and over and over again -- Be my Valentine?

Momma found the heart when she collected his laundry at the end of the week, emptying out his pockets onto the kitchen table, picking up the pink paper heart with her probing fingers.

Corey didn't hear the end of it for weeks.

There's a gift tag pre-attached at the bow on his Valentine's chocolates and Corey flips it open, expecting a list of the candies that are inside, but that isn't it. It's a message, handwritten in black biro in neat print-capitals. The words start to swim in Corey's vision, merging into an inky pool until he pushes his glasses up to wipe at his eyes, trying to hide his tears from an invisible audience. He isn't fooling anyone, because his lip starts wobbling instead.

He brings the candy back into the living room with him, along with his beer and sits criss-crossed on the couch, then rips the ribbon off in one go.

Corey sinks half the box before he can stop himself.

The rest he tries to savour, rolling each chocolate in his mouth, letting them melt on his tongue until he can figure out the flavoured centre while he watches his movie. The truffles are his favourites, then the pralines, followed by caramels, vanilla cream and pecan clusters, then finally the strawberry ones come last.

Between eating, he drinks his beer like a palate cleanser, finishing it only to go get the other bottle from the fridge. Two beers down, Corey can feel the buzz under his skin, in his tear-pink cheeks, and the relief of tension leaving his unsettled self.

If he takes the candy box home, Momma would ask too many questions that he didn't want to answer -- that he didn't even want to think about -- so he throws the empty tray in the trash can in the Allens' kitchen and chews a stick of bubblegum to cover the alcohol on his breath. It wasn't fool proof, but it was the most he could do.

Upstairs, Corey listens for movement from Jeremy's room. The hallway is dark, lit only by the lamps downstairs glowing up through the spiral of the staircase. Corey circles the warm light, never quite letting it catch him, as he dips into Jeremey's room to turn his TV off, then continues on to the master bedroom.

It's dark in there too, as Corey stands in the doorway. The bed is made neatly, sheets tucked cleanly under the mattress but rumpled in places where someone had sat down to pull on a stocking or tie a shoelace. He looks around familiarly, at the contemporary beige art on the walls and at the framed family pictures on the dresser, goes through the jackets and dresses that line the closet, and the messy draws full of almost designer sweaters and workout clothes and underwear. Mrs Allen's expensive lotion sits on the nightstand, next to where Corey always discards his glasses.

Laying in their bed, on Mr Allen's side, Corey looks up into the darkness. His cheeks are wet and getting wetter, and he rolls onto his front, muffles his sniffling in Mr Allen's pillow and breathing deeply the faint, shouldn't-be-comforting scent of the older man's cologne. Dark and woody, but classic in a way that compliments the rich floral perfume Corey always smells on Mrs Allen's pillow.

Part of him hopes Roger will know, hopes he'll feel the dampness there on his pillow while he tries to sleep, hopes he'll catch the taste of salt, and know exactly what he'd driven Corey to.

It's long-past midnight by the time Mr and Mrs Allen get home.

Corey hovers awkwardly by the door while Mrs Allen kicks out of her heels, hangs her coat on the stand, her conversation slower now as she thanks him again for babysitting. Corey preferred her like this, when she no longer had to worry about making their 7:30 reservation, or whether Jeremy was ready for bed before they left. When she isn't so tense, it made it a lot harder for Corey to interpret her tension as something else, something worse.

She counts his money out for him, but as he zips his coat up and prepares to cycle back home in the cold, Mr Allen stops him.

"Hold on, Corey, I'll give you a ride." The first words he'd spoken directly to Corey all night.

"Oh, no," Corey insists, hesitating anyway. "It's okay, really. I don't want to --"

"It's no trouble. We wouldn't want you out alone at this time. Unless you've got a secret black belt you haven't mentioned?"

Corey laughs, his real boyish laugh that Mr Allen likes so much.

Mrs Allen leans up, whispers something in her husbands ear, a perfectly French-manicured hand patting his chest once. Corey averts his eyes.

Then, Corey and Mr Allen are stood outside in the biting February air.

"Did you enjoy your night?" Corey asks as they pull out of the driveway. He rubs his cold hands together in his lap.

Roger turns the heater on high. "We did, thanks."

"What was the restaurant like?" He doesn't normally ask questions, doesn't normally like to know the answers, but he's feeling just a little vindictive tonight. Curious, too.

Roger catches his eye through the rear-view mirror. He smirks. "It was nice. We've been wanting to try it out for a while, actually. We don't go out as much as we should anymore."

"I just watched a movie," Corey says with a shrug, like it's no big deal. Like it's how he was going to be spending his Valentine's day anyway. "One that my friends at college always recommend, but I never get time to watch movies. Momma -- my mom -- she's always so picky about movies." Corey can hear himself start to ramble, clutching at the straws of interest. "And Jeremy was okay tonight," he lies, then changes his mind. "Well, he said I don't have a girlfriend because I'm ugly. But he didn't get up after he went to bed."

Roger sighs, "Ignore him, you know what he's like. Theresa coddles him, but he's a little terror sometimes, same as any other boy. And besides, you know that's not true -- you're not ugly." His hand leaves the wheel and lands on Corey's thigh.

The younger man hums, suppresses how utterly pleased he feels at being told that. You're not ugly, and god if Corey won't be thinking about that for who-knows how long. He doesn't say anything when Roger takes a right turn, heading for the long route back to Corey's side of town.

A stupid, sappy old love song comes on the radio. Corey reaches out to change the channel, settling on WURG, where Willy the Kid is hosting the Anti-Valentines show till late. Heartbroken love songs for all those unlucky enough to be without action tonight.

"You liked the chocolates?" Roger says. It ends in a question mark, but Corey hears a period.

"Yeah, I ate the whole box." He did like them. They were perfect and thoughtful and he's so very, very grateful because he shouldn't expect anything at all.

They pull into the empty lot of the Dollar General and Roger turns the car off, letting the sudden silence -- the stillness of the night -- settle over them. A distant streetlight casts a sickly orange light into the car, the light and shadows chiselling Roger's features deeper, more stern. Corey chews his lip until he tastes blood.

Still, it's Corey's hands that wander first. Because he's been so lonely, waiting all night long for Roger's attention. Looking after Roger's son and drinking Roger's beer and eating Roger's cheap Valentine's present, while Roger was at an expensive restaurant, eating his $80 steak, with his wife who deserves so much better. Corey doesn't though.

And Roger, not for the first time, thinks What the fuck am I doing? when his lips meet Corey's through the darkness. The younger man tastes of bubblegum and beer, but beneath that he can taste those damn chocolates. The taste suits him; sweet and boyish, a little bit cheap.

Any lingering thoughts of Theresa, of how it shouldn't take more than half an hour to drive to Corey's house and back, of how she's waiting for him with a promise -- whispered in his ear as he picked his car keys up off the the table by the door -- are quickly replaced with thoughts of them getting caught, of one of Haddonfield's finest driving by and seeing them, of a sharp tap on the window that makes Corey look up, mouth open and eyes wide and looking every bit the pretty boy he is, of talking their way out of a night in the cells for public indecency because This isn't what it looks like Officer, I swear!

And then Corey's pulling away, twisting himself around in the passenger seat so he can lean down, and Roger can't really make himself think of anything else but the way Corey is so obliging. Undoing Roger's belt, his fly, Corey pulls the older man's boxers down low enough to free his cock, slapping heavy against his toned stomach; Corey presses a wet, pouty kiss to his tip. "I missed you."

"You did?"

Corey nods, wrapping his hand around Roger's length, his fingertips just about touching. "So fucking much."

Another kiss, kittenish licks, Corey's soft hand stroking him slowly, working him like Roger isn't already rock hard for him. Roger closes his eyes, lets himself enjoy Corey's ministrations, learnt precisely by what Roger -- and Roger alone -- likes. They shouldn't be taking their time, however Roger is downright incapable of stopping Corey's hand as it smears his own precum down his shaft, slicking the younger man's movements, but not enough to take away the hint of hot and heavy friction that keeps Roger on the edge.

"I'll make it up to you, hm?" Roger manages, and Corey finally goes down on him, mouth wet and warm and always welcoming, as if to say, Go ahead.

With a sharp inhale, Roger starts, "I'll take you out somewhere. Somewhere nice. I know a restaurant that you'll love, where they do the best desserts you've ever had in your life. You'd like that, right?"

Corey hums in agreement; the vibration makes Roger throb even harder, pulsing against the soft roof of his mouth.

Roger always sounds so sure of his words, so assertive in his thoughts. It makes Corey believe him all the more, makes him want to nod and agree to whatever it is Roger tells him he thinks. Like how he always says Corey was such a tease, all those weekends he'd take his shirt off to mow the lawn, skin glistening with sweat right where Roger could see him. And how Corey had known exactly what he was doing with his wide-eyed virgin routine, as though Roger could have ever said no to him. And that Corey's so easy, so eager, so desperate. That Corey will always say yes.

"Or we could go to a bar. Shoot some pool, have some beers, catch the game. We could have a boys night." He grabs Corey's hair, applying a pressure that is more a suggestion -- more, deeper, please -- than a command.

"And then back to the hotel. Somewhere we can get room service, of course, I know you love that. And I'll take such good care of you. You know that, don't you, baby?"

Roger's getting close and he knows it, especially when Corey swallows, his throat tight and hot and clenching around Roger's cock and he's almost --

He pulls Corey off him, a thin trail of saliva dripping from his plush lip to Roger's spit-shiny head, and watches as the younger man wipes the rest of the drool from his chin with the back of his hand.

"I think you feel guilty," Corey says, voice level and surprisingly measured. There's no elaboration on what Roger should be feeling guilty about, just Corey's wide eyes and swollen lips, and Roger's left to fill in the blank space that Corey leaves behind.

Guilty about making me babysit. Guilty about driving me home. Guilty about doing this with me and then going home to sleep with your wife too.

The list goes on and on and on, and Roger tightens his grip in Corey's hair while he thinks, feeling the smooth, waxy strands twisted between his fingers. Corey will fuss over it in the rear-view mirror on the way home, combing his own fingers through those locks, back into his neat side-part, and Roger will watch him for too long, wishing he could see Corey's hair in it's full glory, not just sex-mused but his natural, bouncing cherub curls, more often.

Roger's hand is still in Corey's hair but he doesn't move, just waits to be told what to do.

"Get in the back."

It's only marginally less cramped in the back seat and darker still, the warm orange glow of the streetlight even fainter as Roger pulls Corey into his lap, lets him burrow into his neck while Roger slips a hand between his legs, palms the growing bulge over rough denim. Corey keens into it eagerly, legs twitching as he tries to keep himself from clamping his thighs around Roger's hand and humping it.

When his whines get louder, a strong hand grabs the back of Corey's knee, moving him to straddle Roger's trim hips, makes sure he's settled before teasing the zipper of Corey's jeans down, once again feeling that hard swell in his underwear.

There's a growing damp patch on the white cotton, sticking it to the leaking pink head of Corey's cock. Roger thumbs the wetness, smearing it through the fabric over Corey's burning skin, and Corey doesn't want to wait. He desperately pulls at the elastic of his briefs, pulls them down and hisses with relief when his dick springs free, resting against the pudge on his lower stomach, leaving a streak of precum on his auburnish happy trail.

Roger clasps one large hand around the both of them and Corey moans like it hurts; he grips tight, squeezing just right to press at the sensitive spot beneath his tip every time Corey's length slides against his.

Corey bucks in Roger's grasp, enough that Roger doesn't even have to stroke them anymore, just holds them still and grinds up against Corey's needy frotting. The developing rhythm is less co-ordinated than Corey can usually manage when he's on top, but the newness of the sensation, the way he can never quiet repeat the same motion or hit the same spot twice is maddening.

With all their clothes still on though, it's almost like it was back then, back when the most they did was dry hump on the couch while a football game played forgotten in the background. And it's not fair, Corey thinks. This is it? This is all he gets?

Roger once told him, "More is just never enough for you, is it, baby?", and although Corey had been kind of preoccupied at the time, the thought had burrowed it's way into his mind, repeated on a loop in Roger's low voice while Corey twiddled his thumbs in class the next day. Momma always told him something similar, when she'd decide he was being ungrateful over something or nothing -- it was always nothing -- that she didn't know what more Corey could want. A roof over his head, food on the table, his mother's love, always. Did he not already have enough? What more could Corey want? Boxed chocolates, empty promises and messy back-seat fumblings.

Roger is proven right. It's Valentine's day and Corey wants more.

"That's it, good boy. Feels good doesn't it?"

As Roger's hand slips further down the back of Corey's jeans, beneath his underwear, Corey catches his wrist, slowing the movement of his hips but not pausing, and tries to direct Roger's fingers closer to where he wants them.

Roger pulls back, resumes simply palming Corey's peachy ass. "Not tonight," he says firmly, and Corey makes a dissatisfied noise against the crisp white cotton of Roger's shirt.

"Please?"

Roger chuckles, "No, Corey." Still firm, but letting Corey down gently. "I know you want to play, but we can't. Not tonight."

"But I really want to, really badly," Corey pleads, scattering kisses up Roger's neck. It's not often Corey has to do the convincing. Rutting harder to prove his point, leaning back so Roger can see that playful little smile on his lips that always get him going, "And it's Valenti --"

"Corey," and it's a warning this time, given in a tone that Corey's never heard Roger use on him before. It's a tone he'd heard him use with Jeremy, though.

Corey shuts his mouth instantly, which is what he's always done best, and tries to ignore how his cheeks burn. The way his skin itches makes him want to scream.

After being told off, he can't bring himself to look back at Roger's disappointed face, so Corey looks down at their cocks instead, both wet with spit and precum, which is somehow less awkward. The spark in his gut rekindles slightly at the sight of Roger's dick, smaller than his by less than a half inch but big enough to knock the breath out of him, rubbing against his own.

Roger's hand has resumed stroking them together -- quickly, efficiently, like he's doing them both a favour.

A loud squeak breaks through the near-silence when Corey reaches out to brace himself against the window, his hand slipping in the condensation made up mostly of his own panting breaths. Another time, perhaps, it would have made him laugh, and his breathy laugh would have made Roger laugh and then --

Roger comes hard in his hand because he really can't let his shirt get dirty, and Corey follows with a shuddering groan, a half-word that could have been anything -- Fuck, Roger, Sorry -- warbles out with it.

"It's okay," Roger answers. "You're okay."

Corey licks Roger's hand clean, sucking the mess from his fingers. Tongue working between each digit till they're soaking wet. Tentative, playful nips at fingertips, biting just barely at his knuckles, never hard enough to leave a mark. No evidence gets left behind.

Feeling each ridge of Corey's teeth, Roger remembers the look on Corey's face from earlier, how his cheeks burned and he shrunk in on himself, making himself small and docile. If Corey bit down hard right now, sinking straight to the bone, then Roger would probably deserve it.

"Happy Valentine's Day," Corey whispers, lips brushing Roger's wet fingertips. Even in the quiet of the car, Corey's voice is smaller than it deserves to be. His big, brown eyes are glazy when they meet Roger's cold blues.

Roger stays quiet, feeling the warmth of Corey's heavy breath between them. In, out, in, out. He holds Corey's flushed face in his wet hand, strokes his thumb softly against his cheek, feels the barely-there stubble under his palm, watches Corey's eyes flutter shut, his lip twitch with the hint of a smile, his brow crease, fat teardrops well under his lashes until they spill down his cheeks.

"Let's get you home, hm?"

Mr Allen drops him off right outside his house -- "You're coming to do the gardening tomorrow, right?" -- and watches as Corey climbs out of the car and up the front porch steps. Joan lurks at the window, the curtains twitching closed once Corey gets to the door.

With one hand on the door handle, Corey turns to wave. Mr Allen is mostly shadowed in the driver's seat, but Corey half-smiles at him anyway, still looking even as Momma pulls him into the house by his scruff for being home so late.

As Corey lies in his bed, he stares up at the darkness of the ceiling. Or maybe his eyes are just closed because his fingers, slippery with the lotion from his nightstand, are shoved down his underwear. The gift tag from his chocolates -- For my Good Boy, ❤ R -- burns a hole beneath his pillow.

#corey cunningham x roger allen #💗💌 corey's love letters 💌💗#corey cunningham #i am a sweet tooth corey truther #corey baby that married man doesnt love you !!!!!!!#and they're such a cliche 🙄 fooling around with the babysitter ?? derivative #but i will never give corey a break #and thats a bona fide anna promise 😎#canon divergence my beloved !! they need more time together to make each other worse and ruin their lives even harder #some bonuses for the dedicated readers who also read my tags:#the game playthrough corey and jeremy watch is for f/naf #corey defo had a f/naf stan friend at school who would explain all the lore as it happened. like early days f/naf #corey watched his friend go through the trenches of the 1 - 4 timeline #the 90s movie that corey watches is the tal/ented mr rip/ley #the chocolates are russell stover. i added the pink bow though because 🎀aesthetic🎀#you know that gif of jude law in Wilde 1997 ?? yeah that one.#cunningallen

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luxexhomines · 1 year ago

Note

If it's alright, may I request a platonic femreader x Honoka Kousaka from Love Live School Idol Project? The dialogue would be "What do you think?"

Hi, lovely anon!! Thanks for being my first request after my return from a long hiatus~ I kind of struggled because it's been such a long time since I wrote, but when I saw this request, I thought to myself, "it's my favorite Love Live character!" Which made me think maybe a friend requested this so I wouldn't have no requests in my inbox lol because I hardly wrote any Love Live! fanfiction on this account before. Icon credit to sailorprettycure!

Anyway, since there was no specified mood (?) I tried to go with a light fluff with an everyday feel (like how the Love Live! animation is). Not much really happens in this, but I hope you can feel that you are friends with Honoka~ Here we go! (Edit: also I didn't really do much to emphasize the femreader part of it but she goes to the same school as Honoka, so I hope that's enough?)

“What do you think?”

Honoka twirled in the new costume before you, anxious to hear your appraisal. It was a simple outfit: a black leotard in low-cut, dark wash, ripped jean shorts, paired with some silver bangles and earrings. Over the leotard, she had on a white, gauzy, off the shoulder crop top with frilled edges with flowy, open sleeves. She hadn’t bothered to change her hairstyle, but somehow you felt it suited her more that way–or maybe you were just more accustomed to it.

“You look adorable,” you beamed at her. “Is that outfit for your next live?”

Honoka brightened up and nodded eagerly, her side-ponytail energetically bobbing with her head.

“Yeah! But just the prototype,” she amended. “Kotori wanted me to try it on and see what I thought about it, and I figured it couldn’t hurt to get a second opinion on it. I mean, it’s not supposed to be public information, but since it’s you, I don’t think she’d mind at all.”

She stopped rambling for a moment and carefully stared into your eyes with those big blue eyes of hers. “You really mean it, though? You like it?”

You laughed and swooped in for a hug, pressing your cheek against hers affectionately.

“Like it? I love it! Tell Kotori it’s amazing and that you should definitely keep the prototype,” you reassured her. “Though I don’t know what your next song will be like, so I don’t know how well it matches the concept of your song.”

Honoka wrapped her arms around you and lightly hugged you back before pushing you off of her.

“Hehe, I knew Kotori’s designs couldn’t go amiss! But I think if you hug me any longer, it might get wrinkly, and you know how Umi gets when…” she grimaced.

“Yeah, I know, I know,” you conceded. “Sorry, my bad–you want some ice cream? I’ll go get it while you change out of the costume.”

Honoka takes hardly a second to consider it before flashing a happy smile at you.

“Would you? You’re the best,” she said with a toothy smile. “I’ll get changed now, so hurry back!”

“Of course,” you grinned. “What are friends for, after all?”

You step out of the room and dash out the door to stop by the nearest convenience store. Luckily, 7-11 was hardly a block away.

You gently knocked on the door to the room. “Honoka?” you called out. “I’m back with strawberry ice-”

The door slammed open abruptly, taking you aback as Honoka pulled you inside and closed the door behind you just as quickly.

“Come in, I’m already done changing! You came back pretty fast, but I was faster,” she giggled.

“Since when was this a race?” you playfully crossed your arms and raised an eyebrow. “Anyway, here you are–strawberry ice cream with cornflakes!”

She snatched it out of your hands and unwrapped it in record speed before giving it a great lick with just as great relish.

“Mm!” she exclaimed as she plopped down on the floor.

You couldn’t help but let out a laugh as you joined her in sitting down.

“You know, with the way you’re acting, I’d think you only have this once every ten years or something.”

She stuck her tongue out at you.

“So what? It’s just that delicious!”

You shook your head as you started opening your own frozen treat as well, albeit slower than Honoka.

“No, no, it’s not a bad thing,” you chuckled. “I think it’s a good thing that you still enjoy it so much and appreciate how delicious it is, even after eating it so many times.”

“You think so?” A hopeful note colored Honoka’s voice.

“Duh,” you smiled. “You know, I think I become more honest when I’m with you. Even though you’re probably pretty easy to fool,” you emphasized your words with a poke to her nose, causing her to reflexively flinch and blink, “maybe it’s ‘cause you’re so honest that I end up being this way too.”

Honoka swallowed her bite of ice cream. A light, peachy blush began to spread across her cheeks.

“Well, I-” she stuttered. “Gee, thanks?”

“You’re welcome,” you smirked. “Hey, your ice cream’s melting.” You pointed at the edge of her ice cream cone, where the pink ice cream was starting to look more and more watery and wobbly.

“Oh! Thanks,” she quickly said before her mouth was, once again, full of ice cream. She glanced over at you. “You know, have you ever thought about becoming a school idol, too?”

You shrugged.

“No, not really. I think I’m happier to watch you guys and be your fan. You know I can’t sing and dance at the same time like you guys. My stamina’s terrible.”

Honoka tilted her head and pursed her lips.

“But my stamina wasn’t that good when we started Muse, either! You know how hard Eli and Umi worked us?” She shuddered. “Hanayo and I were collapsing every day after all that training,” she said with a dark look on her face.

“Well, you guys were motivated to continue despite how hard it was, right? I don’t think I’m that motivated,” you sighed. “I’m just a part of the going-home club now, you know. Not like you guys, training so hard that you become famous nationwide and save our school from being shut down-”

Honoka hit you with a toast-shaped plushie, effectively shutting you up.

“It was hard to get this far, you know,” she pouted. “Even I sometimes wanted to give up. But, well, maybe being a school idol just isn’t what you’re passionate about,” she admitted. “I’m sure you’ll find something amazing that you’re passionate about eventually,” she grinned at you. “Plus, you could join our school idol club as like…um…”

She thought for a moment. “As a manager or staff member, I guess! Instead of a performer. You know we do all the work preparing our costumes, songs, dances, coordinating venues and stuff ourselves, right? But it can be pretty tiring because we also have to train and practice every day.”

You opened your mouth and then shut it, pressing your lips together tightly. Join Honoka and the others, when you scarcely knew anything about the world of school idols, barring what they shared with you as friends? It was unrealistic, and you didn’t even have that much time left at Otonokizaka High before graduating, not to mention that you should be preparing for the nationwide exam to get into college.

“What do you think?” Honoka awaited your answer, her eyes gleaming brightly like dazzling sapphires beneath the spotlight–you knew that look. It was the look she had when she recruited each member of Muse and when she convinced Kotori and Umi to join her in the first place. It was the look she had when she had already decided to never give up.

You thought about it some more. Yes, it was unrealistic, but then again, when had Honoka ever cared about what was realistic when she started Muse to save beloved Otonokizaka from its seemingly-assured death?

“Alright, count me in.”

Honoka hugged you tightly before you could even react.

“Yay!!” she cheered. “You won’t regret it, I swear!”

“You know, I keep changing because of you,” you sighed. You contentedly smiled, more to yourself than to the Honoka currently wrapped around you. “But, I think it might be a good thing.”

Extra

“Why did you call me here?” You arched an eyebrow with due suspicion right at Honoka. “Why are we at the school courtyard over the weekend?”

“Now that you’ve decided to join us, it’s time to find out what you’re good at so we can figure out what you can do,” she grinned. “Come on, let’s go! We can’t do this during normal school days because the rest of Muse is too busy practicing, so you can just take a crash course on all the things that we do.” She grabbed your hand and started excitedly dragging you into the school. “Kotori will tell you about designing costumes, Umi will talk to you about writing lyrics, Maki will show you how she composes songs, and-”

You started to tune out the rest as Honoka continued. Just what had you gotten yourself into? Your days were about to get much busier and livelier–but when you thought of those days being spent with Honoka, you couldn’t help but think you’d be okay with that.

#honoka kousaka x reader #honoka kousaka #love live fanfiction #platonic #reader insert #x reader #love live! school idol project #ll fanfiction #honk honk!!#lux writes #oneshot #writing #fluff #requests open #requested #anonymous request #luxexhomines #*cough cough* if this actually is requested by a friend i have a guess as to who it might be lol #but there's no conclusive proof bc it's anon lol #either way i will take it as you also appreciate honoka hehehe #surprisingly i actually didn't write more honoka fanfiction in the past than other love live stuff #bc honoka doesn't really have a super iconic ship like the others do: rinpana nozoeli nicomaki kotoumi #so i wrote for those ships instead haha can you believe it #now i mostly only write stuff for my faves lol #anyway this was kind of rough #except i say that about all my writing but i mean it because this is rougher than my writing used to be i think #i couldn't think of where honoka and the reader would meet over the weekend beside the school even though i'm pretty sure not there #maybe honoka's house but like. i was too lazy to change it after i wrote it #sorry :'))#anyway reader you are now like yuu of nijigasaki i guess!! wheeee manager arc

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