#school live x reader

[thequietkid-moonie]

While we wait the opening of the requests let me introduce you all the new fandoms that i will add to the list!!

To continue with this sad-dramatic environment I will add this fandoms to the list! So from now on you can make request for them!! ✨✨✨

[paperultra]

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.

—

prev

[sunflowericescribbles]

A Radioapple SpyxFamily AU idea dump

It seems that I´ve become incapable of writing down my ideas into a decent story, so I will just dump everything into this post - and whoever wants to pick up these pieces and string it together into a coherent story is welcome to take them and run with it. I just need to get it out of the system otherwise I´m gonna mad here.

Setting:

SpyxFamily Universe - Cold War between Ostania & Westalis (if I wanted to be funny I´d have renamed them into "Elysiana" & "Ereboris" or smth like that, because there already exists Eden Academy, so why not turn it into "Heaven & Hell")

A/B/O- Universe (?)

Alastor as westalian spy known as "Smiles". He´s an expert in hiding in between shadows & and concealing his presence. (You only know he´s there when you see a creepy smile, but then it´s already too late for you.) Officially he works as a radio host at a radio station, which serves also the purpose to get the latest news from everywhere and subtly altering it if necessary. They also use it to communicate in code via broadcast. His excuse for getting almost murdered on the streets or for coming home with injuries will most likely be "haters of his radio persona" or "fanatic fans". Yes, he has a very intense fanbase (and hatebase), yes some might call him the radio demon.

He accidentally rescued a little girl called Niffty while on a mission, who refused to leave his side since then. And before he could get rid of her, his superiors had the brilliant idea to keep her, so he could take on operation "Strix", because it seemed that she´s smart (& old) enough to be enrolled in the famous Eden Academy.

Niffty is able to read minds, so she knows that the plan is to get closer to the youngest son of Sera Desmond, Adam. (You can imagine how the first meeting will go when I say that Adam will be terrified of her most of the time and will constantly try to convince everyone that she tries to murder him.) Lute will be his bodyguard, of course.

Our little gremlin will also make sure that Al gets a "wife"/mate/partner, because of course Eden Academy has this strange/stupid rule that the kids need to a whole set of parents to even have a chance to get into it. Al is not eager to go through the list of potential partners that his informant and old friend Husker provided him. Fortunately the problem solves itself with a chance meeting at the park where Niffty almost falls into a pond full of ducks.

And look who´s there! A cute little blonde (omega) with the name Lucifer, who is pondering his life choices and who´s in desperate need to prove that he´s NOT single and/or incapable of taking care of himself. See, he can still look after a kid and prevent her from falling head first into a pond. See, he can also sympathize with being a single parent, because he´s been in that role many years since Lilith´s death.

The wedding ring on his hand? Oh, that´s just an old remnant that he keeps wearing because he´s not really into finding a new partner & when they see the ring they usually back off and leave him be. Unfortunately it led to his new coworkers believing he was still married, because he had been too distracted (and not in the mood to talk about it) in giving them a direct answer ("I don´t have a wife"- "Oh sorry, husband then"). And somehow he talked himself into a corner with his adult daughter Charlie, too, because she believes he´s been dating someone for a while now. He had only been on a handful of dates because she had been constantly nagging him over the phone & then simply started lying to her about it to make her stop worrying.

Now he has one problem coming from two sides: His new coworkers invited him to a dance party, so he needs a dance partner - preferably his nonexistent husband, because he´s too embarrassed to admit he´s single now that he´s already been there for a while and never corrected this assumption. His daughter deems it appropriate to finally meet his new (imaginary) partner & make sure her dad is in good hands.

Lucifer also kinda fears that Charlie would actually throw away her carrier chances if she worried too much about him, because as much as he tried to hide his struggles from her, he knows she´s seen it. Luckily Charlie doesn´t (& hopefully never will) know how far he went to make ends meet for them, because he´s definitely not proud of it. He will never regret marrying Lilith & having Charlie, even though they got disowned by their families and never got the chance to finish their education at Eden Academy after they found out about them (and the pregnancy).

Lucifer is officially working a boring office job, but has a (regrettably) successful carrier as an assassin since his daughter´s childhood years, because he was desperate for money and would have done anything for his daughter to get her a at least somewhat decent childhood & education. His codename is "Rotten Apple" (he always leaves a faint smell of rotten apples behind) and he´s very good at disguising himself. His small and slender build also makes it easy for him to disguise as woman if necessary.

Anyway, Alastor & Lucifer come to the conclusion that it will benefit both of them if they entered a fake marriage. Lucifer is very glad he found Alastor, because not only can this man cook a thousand times better than him, he can also dance and make his coworkers jealous! Well, Charlie is not entirely convinced yet, but you have to forgive her, she´s very protective of her dad & worries too much (Vaggie is trying to convince her to let her dad be). Alastor is somewhat relieved that he found someone who has experience in child raising & knowledge of Eden Academy. He doesn´t care that his mate is older than him & already had a child roughly 20 years ago. If someone asks why he didn´t choose a younger one: He likes that they can enjoy the same things, such as music, dancing, playing instruments, etc. He´s also good with kids, has experience, doesn´t mind marrying someone with a child, does he need to go on? Ah, yes and both of them don´t ask too many unnecessary questions, because gotta keep their secrets.

Btw Vox is not happy about this fake marriage, because he wanted to play happy family with Al. (Niffty does not, she likes her new "bad boy" dad very much, thank you.)

[wannaeatramyeon]

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.

[minhio22]

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.

[just-another-siimp]

Epilogue

Warnings: Brief mention of war, injuries and anxiety, alcohol use, poor fire safety, lots of smooches (16+), lots of fluff, a ton of fluff.

Authors Note: This is is, the Enemy at the Gate series is finally done! All this is is self indulgent fluffy. Pairing below the cut!

Word Count: 2k

Enemy at the Gate || Alone || Prison Break || Epilogue

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x Reader

The months following Las Almas blurred into one, with Hassan dead and Makarov crawling out of the rafters like the cockroach that he was, there was so much work to be done. Laswell had other plans for the 141st, forcing a mandatory leave period of 6 weeks. Allowing everyone to heal both mentally and physically. For some of you returning home was a secret blessing, it allowed opportunities for hidden relationships to bloom behind drawn curtains. Not that your relationship was hidden from the 141st, they were the people you trusted with your life so it was only natural that they knew. It was either that or have them find out, and they always find out. 

For you home is a cottage on the outskirts of Metz, allowing the beauty of the French countryside to swallow you whole. At first you’d thought the choice to move to France of all places would be something you’d regret, yet there had been nothing but happy memories made in the cottage you and your beloved called home. While you’d been away the seasons had changed, summer had been in full swing, the Apricot trees in the back garden had been full of the sweet fruit. Now it was covered in snow, the flowers had died long ago, leaves fallen to the ground below long before you’d even thought of home. Yet under a blanket of white, it was still your favourite place to be. 

-

Soft quacks could be heard just outside your kitchen window, peaking out from the frosted glass you caught sight of your two favourite trouble makers. Henry and Gale, a pair of ducks that belonged to your neighbour but always had a habit of venturing over to your cottage. They supplied a pleasant background noise as you kneaded dough, even in the cold weather it was easy to build up a sweat. Your arm still ached, bullet wound leaving a nasty scar despite the neat stitching. After a few more weeks it would be back to normal but for now you dealt with the ache, covering the bowl with a damp towel before leaving the dough to proof. 

The kitchen was an organised mess, Stew bubbling away in it’s pot atop the stove while vegetables soaked in water waiting to be formed into something that resembled a salad. The cupboard was fully stocked with snacks, both sweet and savoury. Outside in the garage there was a fridge filled with beer, amongst other drinks. Next to it a pile of firewood had been stacked sky high, your neighbour (the owner of Henry and Gale) had kept it well stocked in exchange for Apricots from your tree. Staring at the fridge you looked at the list you’d written, there wasn’t a lot left to do before the boys arrived but still you paced the kitchen anxiously. 

Gale’s quacking was interrupted by a car engine as it pulled into the driveway, a flurry of snow and wings indicated that the pair had flown away spooked by the slam of a car door. Suddenly you remembered you were supposed to be resting, you’d promised not to do anything on your own and allow your arm a chance to heal without extra strain. There wasn’t time to hide the evidence, front door creaking open reminding you that it needed to be oiled before Price arrived. He’d go full handyman and try finding other things to fix if you didn’t. 

“Babe, I’m home! You’d never believe what I found at the store today-” Your heart skipped a beat hearing his voice, excitement already welling up in your chest. The kitchen door swung open and you attempted to look as though you’d just been standing in the kitchen for no reason. “Hey- you’re supposed to be resting!”

“Oh hey.. Gaz- you’re back home early!” The way he was staring at you was a clear indication that your goose was indeed cooked, as he placed the bags down. Reaching out to you he pulled you closer, hand reaching up to cup your cheek before brushing flour off of your nose. Ah, so you’d really been caught red handed.

“Is this how you feel when you catch one of us working when we’re supposed to be resting?” He asked softly, lips pressed to your forehead as he pulled you into him. It was hard not to melt into his embrace, breathe in his cologne as his hands trailed down to your waist leaving warmth in his wake. 

“Oh it’s incredibly frustrating to see.” You murmured softly into the crook of his neck, leaning all of your weight into him with a content sigh. It was nice to have him home, even if he was only gone for a couple of hours. “Especially when the Captain falls asleep at his desk in the process.”

You’re both laughing at that, Gaz leaning down a little further lips pressing to yours in a sweet kiss. Fingers pressing flush into the back of your thighs tapping once as if to say ‘up’, the movement was effortless as he lifted you onto the counter. Fingers curled into his hair, still slightly damp from the snow he must’ve been caught in while he was out. His lips tasted faintly of chocolate, your brow furrowed and you pulled away. 

“Did you have hot chocolate without me?” Guilt was written all over his face, his fingers traced gentle circles into your sides trying to soften you up. “I can’t believe you.” 

“They were handing out cups for free! How could I say no?” 

“Easily.” He kissed your nose, you pouted at him trying to hide the smile that threatened to break out on your face. Gaz knew you weren’t really angry at him, how could you be? When you didn’t say anything he trailed kisses across your cheek and down your jaw, coaxing a whine from your lips. “Kyle.. I’m trying to be angry at you.” 

“Guess I’ll just have to take the coco powder they were selling back to the store.” You tried turning to the paper bag that sat forgotten on the kitchen counter next to you, his right hand rested on the side of your neck. Thumb grazing your chin before grasping it gently, keeping your focus on him. “The marshmallows too.” 

“Giant Marshmallows?” 

“Of course, biggest I could find.” 

“Why didn’t you say so sooner?” Before he could respond you’d pulled him closer, eyes fluttering shut as you both lost yourselves in the kiss. It was often like this after deployment, there was no looming threat or unwanted eyes on either of you. In this little bubble of the world you could both cherish the little moments and the silly moments just like this one. 

The rest of the morning was spent in the kitchen, with you sat at a bar stool while Gaz worked on perfecting his stew refusing to let you do anything to help. This time you listened to his ‘orders’ laughing when he mocked you, scolding you just as you did to him and the others when they didn’t rest. Elbows rested on the cool countertop, your chin resting on the palm of your hand was you watched him cook. Hot chocolate with a comically large marshmallow floating within it partially forgotten. 

-

Snow crunched beneath your feet, cool air nipping at exposed skin as you shuffled out to the wood pile. There were some things that Gaz couldn’t stop you from helping with, like a puppy you’d followed him out into the snow not taking no for an answer. He still wouldn’t let you carry the wood, instead allowing you to light the fire and only because you’d hidden the matches from him. 

“You could’ve at least put gloves on.” He said walking towards you, firewood piled in his arms. “Can you grab the axe for me, love?” 

“Why wear gloves when you can hold my hand?” There was a pep in your step as you grabbed the axe off of the wall, true intentions hidden behind a giddy smile as you followed him to the designated wood cutting stump. “One axe, ready and willing to serve. Sir!” 

“Are you having a sugar high?” 

“Hmm maybe.” 

“That hot chocolate is pretty good, I bet even Ghost will like it.” You watched as he removed his jacket, wrapping it over your shoulders before taking the axe from your waiting hands. That reminded you, looking at the time it wouldn’t be long before the others arrived. The dough was only half way through it’s second proof, there were still blankets that needed to be pulled from cupboards for whoever crashed on the couch and neither you or Kyle had made the salad. The first crack of axe meeting wood pulled you from your thoughts, this was the real reason you’d come outside just to watch Gaz at work. 

-

Ghost was the first to arrive, he wore the usual skull balaclava which really made the bright pink box of chocolates in his arms stand out more. You would’ve laughed but he didn’t give you the chance, shoving the box into your arms and walking into the cottage not without ruffling your hair on the way. You could hear Gaz greeting him in the kitchen, their voices muffled by the kitchen door as it closed again. The sun had set roughly an hour ago, leaving the surrounding area covered in darkness. There was no reason for you to be standing at the door still, yet you couldn’t stop looking into the black searching for something that wasn’t there. 

“Chip.” You almost screamed, whirling around to face Ghost with a half hearted glare. He shot you an apologetic look, reaching past you to turn on the front garden lights. Illuminating the darkness, revealing Gale and Henry snuggled together under the bench. “It’s just the ducks, nothings gonna come crawling out of the shadows here.” 

“I know.” You whispered softly, stepping away from the door and closing it. Ignoring how the cold seemed to settle in your bones despite the fireplace being well lit. Ghost had forced you to show him to the livingroom despite him knowing exactly where it was, distracting you from what lurked in the shadows. 

-

Price and Soap had arrived together, the Captain having picked up John in london before driving the rest of the way. They both planned to stay a few days, using it as an excuse to stay at their home away from home. Not that you or Gaz were complaining, it was nice to have the extra company especially because it meant getting to listen to Soap butcher french with his thick Scottish accent. Ghost would most likely be gone by morning, he wasn’t the type to stick around for long but you always made him promise to take some leftovers home. 

The five of you surrounded the fire pit, Soap standing a bit too close to comfort as he tipped his head back downing another Guava Cruiser. Your home was one of the only places where he’d drink something other than beer or a strong spirit, in private where none of you judged further than shitty banter. These types of gatherings didn’t happen often, it was a chance for everyone to relax. As always Gaz’s cooking was the main star of the show, matched with the fresh bread you’d made that afternoon it was a real treat. Even Ghost had taken Gaz up on the offer of a hot coco (mind you it had a shot of peppermint liquour and no marshmallow, sorta disappointing really) from where he stood next to Soap he seemed to be enjoying it. Even if he had to stop the Scot from falling into the fire. 

None of you worried about what battles were next to come.

Tag List: @komorebiiiiiiii @mauveserpent @mydogeatscoffeecups @reiya-djarin @underatreedrinkingtea @blueoorchid @poohkie90 @kult6 @watermaylon-writes @boxofgasoline @cumbersome-robes @frazie99 @bowserowser @urfavsunkissedleo @kyuupidwrites @omgitstatertot @justpeachiixx @trashy-panda777 @msecho19 @spinkeydinkey @whoreforhorror

[phoenixcatch7]

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?

[snippychicke]

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

[fbfh]

I think so often about Tedros ending up whisked away back to your world with you. it's not supposed to be perminant, it's just for a little while before you go back to the endless woods for you next adventure or school year or chapter of your lives (pun intended). besides how fascenated he'd be with the magicless magic you'd described to him (technology) and how much I firmly believe how much he would abso fucking lutely love 7/11 slushies, mostly he would love to get to be a part of your world, just as you've been a part of his. the only problem is how people treat you here. you have to work so fucking hard, people don't spare you a second glance, everyone acts like you're just like everyone else instead of worshipping the ground you walk on. being trained for future fairytales is a different kind of hard than the job and/or school and other responsibilities of your contemporary life, and it was a solace you had welcomed with open arms. you got to dress in beautiful clothes most would consider impractical, eat food you had only dreamed of before. you had time for liesure, reading under trees and staring out windows and soaking in long luxurious baths. you got to rest in a way you never had before, not having to push yourself every single moment. and of course, the moment Tedros fell for you, you gained a new sort of status. not only were you floating on a sweet, sugary cloud of leisure, but you were treated with so much respect, like true future royalty of camelot. you took to the role so well, and Tedros had never been more sure that he made the right decision. so here, watching you get treated so... disposably, like you're just a part of the herd, another employee another student, Tedros can't stand it. he's furious, he wants to walk over to your professors or teachers or boss and put a sword to their throat, demand the respect that his true love, his future co monarch deserves. most of all, he's more sure than anything that you don't belong here. you belong with him in camelot, you belong by his side. he has never wanted to pamper you, to spoil you and keep you right in the lap of luxury more than he does now. you're not one to shy away from hard work, but you shouldn't have to work so hard. he knows the moment you get back to the endless woods, he's never letting anyone treat you with anything besides the utmost respect. you should be pampered by faries, in the finest garments, dancing with him around a ball room right now. always. as soon as you get back, he thinks, he's going to spoil you so much to make up for all this lost time.

[offantasiesandreams]

OK. Hear me out: The reader making cute little plushies for the Elsens.

That's it. Go crazy. Go stupid

Ahhhh I envy reader in this one, I really wish I was capable of making plushies as well! That idea is so cute, the Elsen deserve to have a nice and warm, cuddly friend with them at all times! I wrote this a few months ago, in June or July, while I was still at school, so I don't remember if I've proofread this or not! And, in all honesty, I have too much commuting to do today to be able to properly do so either, so, sorry about that ^^'

Reader Making Cute Plushies for the Elsen

As someone who has always had a passion for creating and bringing smiles upon others, it pained you to see those poor inhabitants of such a bleak world, wishing to give them something to make them happy, to bring them joy and glee in this dreadful place. So, you’ve decided to make some plushies for them, a passion of yours for quite some time now. Anything and everything that came to mind, things, that those poor creatures have likely never seen before.

From armadillos to zebras, you’ve made it all as cute as possible, not wanting to scare away the shy and anxious Elsen. And some of them took a liking to your work as you went on with it, watching you with interest from the corners of their eyes, some even going as far as watching you over your shoulders as you oh so masterfully sewed together the ears of a panda. Once you’ve finished the animal and gave it to the first Elsen in your vicinity, the one observing your work and asking you about it, his eyes growing wide in surprise.

Cautiously, he took it from you, scrutinising it from every angle, trying to find the danger or harm in it. What if there was a bomb in it? What if meat was going to ooze from it? But no matter how much he poked and squeezed the plushie, nothing happened. In fact, the worst it did was give him the impression it was going to make a squeaky noise at any opportunity, but it never did. For a second, it seemed as though he was shaking with excitement, his tired smile turning genuine. Turning around, he showed off the gift he had received, with the other Elsen immediately taking to it.

As soon as the others had each taken their turn touching the felt, petting and squeezing it, the original Elsen took back its newly prized possession, thanking you and bowing low to you, wishing to show his gratitude. Soon after he had left, the others would flock to you, watching you intently, hoping to each receive a small gift from you, which you happily obliged with, giving each of them a small friend to call their own.

Soon enough, after a few days of preparation and weeks worth of work, every one of them had a small plushie with them at all times, cuddling them, making them have tea parties, yes, even living out their dreams through them together.

It didn’t take too long for all of them to plot and scheme together, knowing fully well that they would have a newfound guardian with them along with their original one. And yet, as much love as they have found within their novel toys, they were going to pay that exact same love back to you. They may not have had much, but they were willing to share what they did have with you. And thus, one day, you would find yourself getting dragged around by those small creatures into the library, the central part of zone 2. For as much as they looked down upon noise and intruders, they would hold a small “party” for you there. Even if calling it such was nothing short of a severe exaggeration, it was sweet nevertheless. And thus, they gifted you a cake, shaped in the likes of many a creatures you gifted them. Crocodiles, ostriches, turtles, everything you could think of was there. It was quite the small spectacle, but one of love, adoration and gratitude for you.

[dragonqueenofice]

In your embrace, I think everything will be ok - Childe

Summary: the dead of night in winters can get cold, unbearably so at times, even in Liyue. Who knew the easiest solution to getting rid of such a problem is to be in the arms of someone you love

Notes: I started writing this at 1:40 am because my cat was in my bed lol

Word count: 1,000

Warning: tooth-rotting fluff, author is permanently touch starved

     Silence rang throughout your room, yet you remained awake despite the moon having been up for long. Nocturnal birds chirped and you could hear the ambient noise of Liyue at night, yet you remain conscious. Your eyelids lay heavy on your face, yet your mind stays plagued with thought. Your mind wasn't racing, per say, but it was still working overtime. A rain of thoughts poured in your mind, not the kind of rain that could put one to sleep, but not a raging tempest either. It was in the uncomfortable middle, the thoughts were not pleasant but they were nothing worth crying over. You decided to simply let your thoughts run their course and wait until your mind finally got as tired as your body. It was going well, you thought, soon enough all these thoughts would run their course and you'd be floating off into Dreamland! That is, until a knock knock knock at your window stirred you out of your tiredness, and into a drowsy curiosity.

     Getting up from your bed, and leaning on the bedside table for support for just a moment, you made your way to the window to see what was making the noise. There, you were met with a familiar mop of red red hair and a familiar pair of cold blue eyes. Childe had a lopsided grin as he mouthed to you to open the window, pointing at the bottom for extra emphasis. You did as asked, though for a mere second you contemplated leaving the bothersome harbinger to his own, if you were to do that you're sure he'd still manage to get in some way, might as well be choosing to let him in, from the window or otherwise. You pulled him into your house, and stood back a little as he dusted off his pants (which, mind you, had no dust on them). He quickly turned to face you and took in a breath before starting his speech, "Good morning Comrade!" His chipper voice contrasted with the darkness of the room. You held your hand up to pause him and moved to turn on the lights so you could see him properly.

     "Why are you in my room, Ajax." You said with a monotone, almost unimpressed voice. You could see him light up a little at the use of his real name, and not the fancy harbinger title nor the codename.

     "Well it's simply so cold out tonight is it not?" He made his way to your bed and promptly sat down, quietly investigating the four different layers of blankets you had piled on top.

     You moved to the bed and sat down next to him, "So it is. But that does not answer my question. Why are you in my house, Childe,"  yet again your voice smooth and monotone. Your tired eyes looked up to meet Childe's, which were all too happy despite the horribly late hour it was.

     He grumbled about your lack of pet names and went on to explain, "Due to such frigid cold we have tonight-"

     "It has barely snowed an inch, Childe."

     "As I said, frigid cold, anyways- I thought about how horrible you must be in such icy temperatures! And I couldn't let my poor darling beloved just freeze!" He dramatically clutched his chest and looked away, an overdramatic 'pained' look on his face

     "An inch of snow, Childe." You could hear him breathe deeply in annoyance, and you had to struggle to not laugh.

     "So I thought-" his voice was uneven and just a little high pitched, his annoyance rang clear, "I thought that I should check up on my darling and make sure they are doing well and will remain warm in such hostile weather! And do you want to know how I could guarantee your comfort in such hard times?"

     "...how?" You stared him in the eyes and could see a mischievous glint in them.

     Childe took a deep breath in, clearly trying to make his answer big and dramatic,  "With cuddles!"

     The silence that followed was deafening. Childe was sure that you'd tell him to leave, but, to his surprise, you didn't. You started to shift on your bed, lightly tugging on the top most layer of blankets to reduce it to three atop your bed, and shuffled to get underneath and lightly patted the side next to you, conveniently left open. Childe stared at you in disbelief, were you going to allow his stupid idea? You sighed and said with your oh so calming voice, "I won't say no, if it'll assure you I'll be fine." Childe slowly moved to get under the blankets along with you, never taking his eyes off you. He adjusted to have his arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you closer ever so slightly. His touch was gentle, as though he were treating you like precious porcelain. "I won't break, y'know,"  You reassured him, and with that you could feel his breathing slow and the weight of his arm over your side increased. He pulled you closer to him, moving you down in the process, just enough to rest his chin on your head. You could hear him breath in and open his mouth, as though he had something to say but the words died in his throat. And then again. And again. Then finally,

     "I… I love you," His voice was small, as though he were scared that raising it would cause you to shatter in his hands.

     You moved your hand to hold his, "I love you too, Ajax."

[ohmalon]

i'm so over the "y/n hates the yellow dress" cliché in reader fics bc the way i would be ECSTATIC if i got to wear this every day

like look at the bow and the mary janes..... the length is perfect and the yellow is so pretty. it's so flowy - and with a petticoat underneath? perfection. i love the ouran academy girls' uniform

[tojiscrack]

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

[notsosecretlyalesbian]

Charlize Theron as Lady Lesso in The School for Good and Evil (2/3)

[timeless-assassin]

[6 AM]

a/n: before I go to bed, I wanted to drop the Draken one and see how it does! it's not my best or my favorite, but I liked it enough to post it!! I might make another one with a different song for the fun of it, since I love him so much

I suggest you listen to the songs of each title by the way! this one is 6 AM by J Balvin [ft. Farruko], one of my absolute favorite songs.

I do wanna note that despite the pissiness towards Emma, I don't hate her! I certainly may not be her number 1 fan, but she has her moments!

cw: nothing much? just insecurities, slight jealousy, a guy getting a little handsy [please let me know if I miss anything!

ps. don't make fun of my "edit" below, I made it in 5 minutes cause it's 2 am right now... I got school in the morning LMAO

Ryuguji Ken looks absolutely ravishing in his outfit tonight. 

His light gray suit jacket and slacks make his black long sleeve shirt stand out in the best ways. He was more dressed up than usual, which was probably why it had caught your attention almost immediately. 

It was a shame really. Despite hoping for the best and for his attention, you knew that was impossible the second you saw Emma already at the party.

Draken has barely even looked at you since you left your house, hasn’t even said a word since he and Mikey were the last ones out of your house when you had them over for lunch. You truly should have known better, that no matter what you did, someone like you would never catch his eye.

You absentmindedly locked your eyes on Emma and Draken from across the room. They were just standing there yes, but something in you churned when you noticed the way she'd kept clinging to him for the whole time you’d been there. Whole body pressed against his arm, probably nagging him to dance with her or go somewhere private with her. 

Of course you were a little jealous of them, of her, but you held no actual hatred for her. She was just fortunate enough to capture his attention, something you'd been yearning for since you've really known him. Or at least she was confident enough to vie for his affection.

Thing is you knew him before Emma had, and even before Mikey, since elementary. You don’t really remember much from back then since it’s all been a blur, just that your life had gotten so much better since joining the rowdy bunch later on in middle school. You watched them grow up into who they were now, and grew alongside them.

You had met Draken before any of them, you think it might have been around the start of 5th grade. You were sitting away from everyone else, and it wasn’t because you didn’t have friends, but the friends you did have were more interested in doing other things than inviting you to play with them. No matter, you busied yourself by doing homework instead of eating, which had thrown Draken off entirely when he first encountered you. It was your lunch break, you simply had to eat during that time! 

That was what he insisted on constantly. When you refused to because you were too busy, he’d make you put your homework down, insisting you try the food he brought. Once you'd stopped prioritizing your assignments, you joined him wherever he went, and that's how it stayed. Draken always included you in everything he did, and although he wasn’t overly pushy, you knew there was still no chance of refusing him. 

Especially when he asked you to join Toman. You thought that he wouldn’t let you, considering the life of a delinquent was dangerous, but your heart swooned when he told you that not only did he know you could take care of yourself, but also the fact that you would be the safest with him. 

From then on, when not taking care of Mikey, he’d make sure you took care of yourself. That’s why he had left last, he’d been double checking to make sure you’d be okay on your own. He’d offered to wash the dishes, clean up the living room, but you insisted he needed to get ready too. The soft smile he gave you was enough to trick you into thinking he shared your feelings.

You thought that all that time you spent together would have been some indication of his feelings towards you. Especially when there were all those lingering touches and unmentioned stares between the two of you in the past, and now as you were practically grown up.

But you turned your attention back to the pair across the room, and you knew your mind had always been messing with you. Just like every time you thought you saw his eyes sparkle at you. Or every time he’d let you run your hands through his hair. Or every time he’d invite you to go hang out and eat, just the two of you, insisting that he’d take care of you.

You knew it was a bad sign when he’d practically ignored your existence since their drop by your house. Emma, however, probably caught his attention right away, everyone adores her after all. 

And I'm not saying that out of spite, you tried to convince yourself. 

And yet, you scoffed and looked away in near disgust once she'd pressed herself against his front, and walked away entirely not too long after to distract yourself. 

Even if that meant dancing with a stranger for now. 

The song started playing, almost as if on cue to your arrival. You’d found someone to dance with for now, and he was eager to go with someone that sought him out personally. But you picked him out at random, nothing but his height adding to your decision. You didn’t even get his name, and it seemed he didn’t care about yours either since the music drowned everything out in the end. 

The beat was easy to sway your hips to, which made you close your eyes. Your partner’s hands on your hips were fine where they were, allowing you to numb everything else out as you were dancing. Your back was to his front, which meant you didn’t have to see whoever this person was. He was a faceless stranger, you’d forget him by tomorrow and hopefully not feel too guilty about it.

All that mattered for now was that he paid attention to you and only you.

Except he took your dancing as an invitation to touch you wherever he wanted.

Before you could shove him or break his fingers midsong, he’d been pulled back and nearly socked in the face before you held back whoever it was that nearly attacked him. 

“She clearly doesn’t want you touching her like that,” he hissed.

“Ken,” you whispered, seeing the all too familiar dragon tattoo. “What are you doing here?”

“Huh?” He asked, slightly annoyed but more confused than anything. “Taking care of you, what else?”

“Real funny,” you said, helping the guy up and apologizing before he shrugged you off and left before things could escalate. Everyone who recognized the dragon tattoo knew better than to come near ‘his girl.’ Not that you had known about that, obviously. “You left Emma alone, where is she?”

He looked confused, which irritated you to no end. “She left. Said it wasn’t worth being here.”

“And why is that?” You asked. You were shocked that she was gone, you thought you’d find the two of them dancing together as the night progressed. 

“I told her I would go looking for you since I lost sight of you.” He admitted, bringing you away from some dancing couples. “She kept whining and didn’t want to leave me alone, nagging me to go dance with her. Finally told her she was being childish and immature, and she left in a rush.”

Well now you felt bad for her. You may have wanted Draken, but not to the point where you’d selfishly declare him as yours without considering her feelings at all. Poor thing must have been heartbroken.

To be fair, it was on her that she had come onto Takemichi despite him having a girlfriend all those years ago. And all the guys she technically used to get to Draken? Not many people viewed her too highly after those few debacles.

“You should have just gone with her,” you huffed, looking away from him and to the lively couples under the colorful lights. “Enjoyed the night instead of worrying.”

“I wouldn’t have been able to relax if I didn’t know you were alright,” he said, reaching his hand out. He seemed to expect you to take it, but you only looked at him skeptically. 

“Tough shit coming from the guy who hasn’t spoken a word to me until he saw me with someone else,” you spat. You felt it was a little mean, but you were genuinely hurt by the fact that he didn’t want anything to do with you before now.

He doesn’t sigh nor groan in frustration, his patience truly knows no bounds. Draken only offers his apologies with the way he’s looking at you right now. Your breath caught in your throat, making you stagger in your steps. 

He catches you, like he does every other time you’ve fallen, both literally and figuratively. Anytime you’ve struggled, he’s always been a pillar to support you. Draken has always been there to care for you when nobody else took the time to.

Maybe that was how he showed his love for you, and you’d just never known.

He placed a delicate hand on your waist, bringing you closer to him. “I did want to apologize though. It wasn’t anything you did that kept me away from you. I was just too much of a coward to ask you to dance with me tonight. I guess your beauty was just so damn intimidating, yknow?”

You snorted at the corny line, but still wordlessly melded into him, a hand on his neck and another on his arm. It was natural, no tensing up or hesitation with the both of you.

“I wanted to build up the courage, but I guess that guy beat me to it,” he said, practically against your lips.

“Ask me now,” you whispered. The music was blaring, but you two could only hear each other with how close you were now. 

He laughs, already swaying to the music. “Dance with me, won’t you?”

Who were you to deny him?

At the curt beats, you moved precisely to the beat and the lyrics, which made Draken’s eyes widen, but he grinned undeniably as he held your waist that much closer to him. The vicinity only made you dizzy, as his scent overwhelmed your senses. Lost in time and in each other, you kissed Draken, melting into him completely as you kept moving together.

It was everything you imagined and more, the feeling of his hands on you almost overwhelming. But you found yourself so gone to this feeling, you barely realized the song had come to an end already, making you think just how long the little altercation took you two. You moved away from him with a brief sigh, hearing some of the cheers from people already getting tipsy.

Draken seemed to sense your disappointment, squeezing at your hip to regain your attention. You hummed, turning to see his genuine adoring expression before he leaned closer to you as the next song began. Something slower, you noted, but your focus turned back to the man holding you so tightly.

“We have the rest of the night to dance,” he whispered, leaving a kiss on your neck. Linking your fingers, he further accentuated his point. “And hopefully the rest of our lives to spend together.”

[rizatouchesthewalls]

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