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nonbinary-alien25 · 2 years ago

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1. Are you named after anyone?

well, my birthname is of religious origins, however my answer was originally going to be no, because I chose the name that I go by now and I didn't name myself after anyone. (although i guess i Did choose my middle name as a slight reference to my favorite comfort character. but also mostly just because I loved the way it sounded, especially when said with my first name). but anyways, then I remembered that technically, completely on accident and without ever having known until someone asked me about it, i did name myself after a video game character (excluding my middle name). but in my defense, i had no clue said character existed at all and it was purely accidental/coincidental, so I don't think it fully counts

2. When was the last time you cried?

uhhhhh full on cried?? i have no clue, it's been months probably. the closest I came to full on crying was a few weeks ago in a therapy session lmao

3. Do you have kids?

lmfao in this economy? no. also I'm only 19. and a lesbian. and generally very disinterested in sex lol. so all in all, no I don't have kids. I'm still on the fence about whether I want them or not. if I did, I'd most likely adopt cause I don't ever want to give birth to a child myself, but if my future partner wanted to give birth then I'd be happy to do that instead or as well

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot?

me? sarcastic? never. (lying). oh boy do i use sarcasm a lot. i even have a shirt that says "national sarcasm society: like we need your support". though i don't think I always understand it when it's used on me lmao. i am better at using it than understanding it

5. What sports do you play/have you played?

hahahaha me?? sports?? that's funny. uhm. i guess I did karate for a little bit when I was a kid, if you wanna count that. and I've thought about trying to get into boxing recently, but the jury's still out on that

6. What's the first thing you notice about people?

uhhhhh honestly I have no clue but like probably their clothes?? esp if they have like really cool accessories or smth I dunno

7. Scary movies or happy endings?

probably happy endings?? I mean scary movies are great and all but I don't really watch them a ton. I love a good, fucked up psychological horror every now and then though, love me some deep dives into the human psyche. but still, I don't watch them very often at all, so I'd still have to go with happy endings. I'm soft for them, anyways

8. Any special talents?

uhhh I'm a pretty good writer i guess?? and my fingers/hands are like. pretty hypermobile lol though I don't think that's as much of a talent as it is just. how my body is lmao. but other than that I don't really think I have any super special talents lol

9. Where were you born?

Massachusetts

10. What are your hobbies?

uhhhh writing, reading fanfic, listening to music, I guess baking has also become slightly more of a hobby than it used to be. I love making my aunt's snickerdoodle recipe, and I also made some white chocolate chip cookies a while ago that were pretty bomb. oh also I do like swimming, so. that too.

11. Do you have any pets?

I do!! i have a kitty cat that's around 2 years old and i love her so so so so so much

12. How tall are you?

like 5'2 lmao I'm Short

13. Fave subject in school?

ooooo I've always super loved english class, but I'm also a big fan of math and science :)) and my high school did offer a forensics class that I took in my sophomore year that I loved.

14. Dream job?

i mean i would like to not Have to have a job to y'know. survive or have even the slightest chance of Actually Living, but. since that's not possible, then I'd say probably author? because I love writing and I'm good at it and it's probably like the only thing I can actually see myself enjoying enough to do full-time. but also I'm still pretty burnt out after forcing myself to push through the burnout for so long to get through high school

15. Eye color?

blue!! sometimes kinda grey-ish, but like. they're blue

no pressure tags:

I don't think I have 15 mutuals to tag, so I'll just tag whoever I can lol. but feel free to ignore if you don't feel like doing this lol

@yourlocalegotisticalqueerishere @chocolatemilk25 @for-forever21 @angels-in-the-electric-chair @justpalsbeingals @rockford-peaches @zariscellphone @lochjhessmonster @marimacha-tonto

15 questions for 15 mutuals

❤️ Thanks for the tag, @descendantdragfi, @obscurus-noctem and @fluttereyes ❤️

1. Are you named after anyone? Not directly, but my mother chosed a name of a british singer she liked when she was living in UK, years before my birth. The singer was already completely forgotten when I was born though. :p

2. When was the last time you cried? Full tears, I don’t remember, but last week, I had really teary eyes reading a journalist I was follwing on Twitter was dead.

3. Do you have kids? No.

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot? To me, to life, quite often, though I’m probably more ironic than sarcastic, but not to others, it can be hurting. Yep, I’m a soft heart. :p

5. What sports do you play/have you played? Gosh, none, I’ve always hated sport (and it’s mutual). I walk and do yoga alone, but I don’t consider that as sports.

6. What’s the first thing you notice about other people? Actually it depends on who are these people, where we are, and why I meet them!

7. Scary movies or happy endings? Happy endings can quickly run on my nerves, so scary movies (but they can run on my nerves too! :D)

8. Any special talents? Nope, absolutley none. I can’t even move my eyebrows in a funny way or whatever useless talent, so let’s not talk about outstanding ones!

9. Where were you born? Paris, France.

10. What are your hobbies? Huuuuh, would you believe it if I’d say Sims and CC making? :D Also baking and gardening (though that last one is more something I do because I want to eat healthy vegetables, not because I have a passion for gardening). And reading!

11. Do you have any pets? No

12. How tall are you? 1,78 m

13. Fave subject in school? It used to be literature but it would be history nowadays.

14. Dream job? Not needing to work would be my dream life. Then, a dream job? :/ 15. Eye colour? Blue.

Tagging (I tried to pick people who haven’t replied already, sorry if you did in the meanwhile! ;D Also, feel free to ignore, as usual!): @tragicpixel, @treason-and-plot, @tsims, @camisulsul, @nessysims, @grandelama, @eisfee, @pixelbots, @lilidebergerac, @simlicious, @laurademelza, @simsaralove, @kimmiessimmies, @pancakebobs, @theplumdot

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are-you-still-writing-that · 2 years ago

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Yandere Alphabet: Uchiha Sasuke

So, I found this one in my drafts and I thought, that I could share it with you, to sweeten up the wait.

Sasuke Uchiha

The traumatized bastard, which entire Clan was massacred right in front of his eyes, and only thinks of revenge. Who thirsts for power to kill his only family left alive, who coincidentally is also responsible for the massacre... Oh boy... This is gonna get ugly, quickly...

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

His brand of affection is the way, you will never see sunlight again. It´s the way you have already screamed yourself hoarse, and still no one came to save you. The affection of him is very likely to kill you in the end. It´s his aggression, when something goes wrong, and the limited room of movement you have. It´s how you´re slowly loosing yourself, and his eyes watching you with cold satisfaction. His affection is your death.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

In his nightmares, he still sometimes hears the blood dripping down the walls. Back then it had frightened him, now it sounds like a symphony. The other really should have thought better than to interfere, where they weren´t wanted. Warning what was his away from him. A small glance, a lingering touch is all he needs, to let the blood flow again. It will all be worth it in the end. He knows.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

You´re his! Why won´t they understand it? If you cry, you will only earn his ire, as he rather quickly loses his patience. He is tense and only presses out between clenched teeth, his explanation, for the first and last time. When you interrupt him with a whimpering cry, it´s over. He goes over to mock you, claiming that there was no way you could have defended yourself. The way you acted, you were practically asking for it, no? So why are whining about it now!

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

He wouldn´t just stop at forcibly confining them. Frankly, he doesn´t care what they want or say. Only what he wants, counts in his mind, and so everything he does will be on his terms as he completely ignores whatever his darling might want. It includes, but isn´t limited to the way you behave and talk, what you wear and eat, where you are. He forces you to interact with him, and he also decides everything concerning future family planning.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

He is as vulnerable as a porcupine is soft and cuddly. You barely know anything of what is bothering him. You can only entertain yourself with a few guesses, but never quite sure what is really going on inside of that head of his. He, on the other hand, actively ensures, that you know as little as possible. Still he talks to you, in the middle of the night, when your stress already knocked you out completely. Whispering his secrets to you, though you will never hear them in the end.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

His answer to you fighting back is rage. He doesn´t care to see it in any rational manner, and he isn´t delusional, so he would be able to. He simply doesn´t care. If you try to fight back, he will explode into a bubble of anger and violence, that doesn´t stop in it´s assault, till you stop moving. He mocks you, when you can´t even touch him, and continues to do so, till you finally stop. Exhausted, tired, and everything hurts.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

Don´t. While he might not care about what you got to say or think about him, he still doesn´t want to indulge them into their little delusions of getting away from him. It won´t happen. He will take it, as if you attacked him. He tears you away from whatever you were doing, and takes great enjoyment, ensuring that you know you can´t escape. Well, a few broken bones should get the message across, no? And if not, he can simply do it all again. But you better learn quickly, because from this point onward it´s only gonna get worse. So much worse.

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

The first time he loses his temper completely around his darling, surely stays as a painful memory with you. A reminder of how badly you had misjudged everything about this boy. It´s violent, painful. What makes it the worst, is that you simply hadn´t expected it at all. All, what you had thought about this boy is torn down, and you can see the glee in his eyes as he tears into you. Never is anything as bad as that, simply because you now expect it.

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

Them, as his docile partner, who simply nods and agrees to everything he says, as he decides over everything. He sees them, taking care of the house and children, while everything important is left for him. Frankly, you don´t get a say in anything. He wants to build up his clan again, and somehow you are stuck taking care of children, that definitely aren´t yours, but you know better than to say it out loud. Just keep your head down, it will save you a lot of trouble. None of these kids are yours, and you would know...

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

He lashes out at both of you, and whoever was eyeing you. Depending on who got close to you, his reaction might differ, though. If it´s a woman, he will simply assume a friendship, though it will still irk him, which results in just a verbal lashing from him. She very likely can get away without loosing her life. If it´s a man, that appeared closer to you, his reaction is far more volatile. He might smack you around, hold you far too tightly. Later, you will certainly find blood on his clothes, and with dread you will realize who it belongs to.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

Sasuke is cold towards his darling, like he is to everyone else. He acts the way he does around them, maybe out of a fear of loosing them. Controlling, everything they do, because he is afraid of what might happen if he doesn´t. He is sadistic and stern. Frankly, he acts like a conceited bastard, and he knows it as well. Somewhere, he knows that it isn´t alright, that something is going wrong here, but he is still too proud to admit it. Around his darling, his mask only seems to grow stronger, only falling away, when they knocked out cold. Then he will cling to them, to reassure himself, that they are still here. Alive.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

Did you ever cuddle with a honey badger? No? You might prefer that. He doesn´t know how to show his affection towards his darling. He is almost clumsy. His grip is too tight, and you can barely breathe. When he tries to show affection through his words, it always sounds sarcastic or is backhanded. Gifts are also always... something... Less said the better. It´s generic, probably something he saw someone else doing, and his expression shows it. You know... It always appears, at first, as if he is in a play where he finds every directive utterly stupid. It´s obvious to you, that he doesn´t know what he is doing in the first place.

Mask: Are their true colours drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

There are several masks that Sasuke employs. A public one and the one he wears around you. In both there is a bit of truth, but they are still mostly false. In public, he acts cold. An ice prince, if one wants to say that, and that is definitely the version of him, everyone comes into contact first. He is haughty, thinks himself better, and is terribly arrogant. Still, because doesn´t appear cruel in his mannerisms, most people are quick to forgive him for that, and still adore him. Then there is the way he acts around you, a controlling, sadistic bastard, who seems to enjoy belittling you and putting you down. His true colours are a bit different though, deeply traumatized from the massacre of his clan, he is afraid of letting people in, and when they are close to him, to lose these people. It doesn´t excuse anything he does, nothing could, but he is simply afraid, that his darling would simply leave him behind as well, and so he does everything he can to make them stay.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

He is physical. He won´t cut his darling and scar them, but he isn´t afraid to break their bones either. While he avoids things, that may potentially kill them, he is still skilled enough to make everything hurt so badly. In the end you are bruised, your bones are aching, and moving around had never been so hard. He beats his darling.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

His darling wouldn´t have a say in anything any more, as soon as he gets his hands on them. Say goodbye to everything you may have known, because he is now in control. And he will take is, even it has to be with force. You have no rights any more. Not as long, as he wants you.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

While he sure thinks of himself as a patient person, you can attest that the opposite his true. He doesn´t really act, as if anything had changed, when he takes you away from all that you knew, and he expects you to do the same. He gets annoyed when his darling doesn´t immediately complies with whatever it is, that he has demanded now, and will lash out, when he feels like he has been kept waiting.

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

If you ever manage to escape, you will have to run as quickly as you can, because you are living in that moment on borrowed time. He will come after you, be sure of that, and when he gets you again, you would wish that you were dead. If you die, he will only take it as the undeniable proof that he wasn´t meant to be close to other people, because everyone around him just keeps dying. He quits it all, throws himself into his work, and just waits for death from this point onward.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

Sasuke wouldn´t really feel any guilt over abducting his darling, no matter what their reaction is in the end. He firmly believes himself to be in the right. Thinking, that he did something good for his darling, that they should be happy now. When you obviously aren´t displaying the wanted reaction, is where he becomes a bit miffed, but assures himself, that he still did the right thing. It wasn´t a kidnapping, it was a surprise moving together. So, why would you even want to leave? He ignores the little voice in his head, that tells him how wrong this all is.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

As a child, he saw how his older brother murdered his entire family. He saw how his parents were murdered, and was then forced to relive this memory countless times, as his brother tortured him with it. Afterwards, he is mostly left alone, dealing with everything that happened on his own. He is a child, and he starts to fear that night like nothing else. He is afraid of people he loves dying again, so he won´t let anyone get close to him. And if someone gets close regardless? Well, then he has to make sure, that they can´t be taken away from him.

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

He gets annoyed rather quickly. At first, he will simply try to ignore whatever his darling is doing, hoping that they will stop with their nonsense rather quickly. If you get louder and don´t show any signs of stopping soon, is when he will come over. Threatening you to be quiet now, or otherwise he would give you a reason to cry. He doesn´t really understand why you would be so upset.

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

While most yandere make it abundantly clear that they are in love with the darling, Sasuke won´t do that. On some days he acts more like his darling his a tedious chore, that he has to take care of. With him, you can never be quite sure, that he actually loves you, or just found the perfect victim in you one day. He is uncomfortably cold, that you can´t help yourself but doubt. And he does nothing to change this perception that you have of him.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

His arrogance is one of the few things that you can exploit. He is absolutely sure, that he has his darling wrapped around his fingers, that they wouldn´t do anything, that goes against after a while. If you play your cards right, and pretend that he is right with that assumption, he will lower his guard just enough for you to slip away. You won´t be able to manipulate him, no, but you might escape.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

Pain is basically the instrument he wields to keep you under control. It´s easy for him to raise his hand against his darling. It´s even almost fun. He takes enjoyment out of it, to wield your own helplessness against you. And so he does it again, and again. Bruises will always mark you. Some bones hurting more than usual, and scars hiding away from prying eyes under your clothes. He isn´t safe. Not at all.

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

He doesn´t really worship his darling in the first place. They are obviously better than the rest of the mindless gaggle he has to surround himself with day in day out. But they are not any better than he is. On top of that, he doesn´t really try to win them over, rather he thinks that they should be glad, that he even chose them in the first place.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

It takes a bit before he even thinks about approaching his darling. He wants to make sure, that they really are, what he had envisioned. Not that he wouldn´t be able to work around it, but it would be so much better, if they already are somewhat what he wanted. Another reason he tends to stay away is, is that he is still busy with his revenge. But when you nearly die, taken away from him, like, so many were already, all cards are off the table. You really died that day, because even if you survived, your life is over anyway.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

Yes, definitely. He wants to own his darling, so when they won´t comply whole, he will break them with glee, if it means that he will get what he wants. It won´t be an accident, and he won´t be sorry in the slightest. He will just do it, if it somehow benefits him in the long run, and will watch your vacant eyes, and almost mechanical movement with a fond smile. Finally, you´re really his.

#yandere #yandere sasuke #yandere sasuke uchiha #yandere alphabet #xreader #naruto #uchiha sasuke #yandere headcanons #sasuke headcanons #naruto headcanons #yandere naruto

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ihearthes · 4 years ago

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Author: @ihearthes Pairing: Harry x Unnamed OFC Rating: Light Smut Word Count: 3500 Inspired by: @wanderlustwaving and “The Lady or the Tiger” by Frank Stockton

His eyes dart around the bar, seeking her. She has to be here. It’s tradition. Their tradition. January 1st. Every year. Sunset. Anguilla. The Four Seasons.

Harry had booked this table nearest the bay a full year ago, confirming it in mid-June and again in early December. Sitting silently, his eyes shaded behind his sunnies, he watches the giant ball of fire as it descends into the water. Less of a sizzle than one would expect. Each sip of his Casamigos Blanco over ice is perfect. The sky lights up with oranges, reds, and yellows that are reflected on the clouds, resembling the Monet painting San Giorgio Maggiore at Dusk which he had viewed in Cardiff. A second version hangs in Tokyo at Bridgestone Museum, and he had been lucky enough to see it once.

The longer he watches its descent, the more he realises that this sunset is different from the paintings he’d seen. His fingers itch for watercolours or acrylics even though he knows his amateurish strokes would never capture the beauty. Last year, the sunset had been underwhelming, the clouds obscuring rather than reflecting the colours. Their first year, he had been unable to believe what he was seeing. It had been stunning with the reach of the palette across the sky, like tendrils of smoke straining to hug the entire planet. Now he captures his journal from the extra chair, opening it’s leather binding to a blank page. Flipping back to the beginning of his journal, he finds a sketch of her leaning on the railing -- drawn from memory years after their first meeting. His mind casts backwards to the non-date that had launched this annual trip.

“Wow.” The voice belongs to a woman who steps to the railing next to him, leaning forward and twisting her head to take in the full sunset. Glancing at her, he does a double take as he recognizes her. Holy shit. She’s even more stunning in person.

“Oh, I’d give it a solid 8.5,” Harry’s calm voice is the opposite of his turbulent emotional state.

“Seriously? It’s much closer to a 9.2.”

“You’ve lost your mind. It’s worthwhile, but not a 9.2,” he scoffs, shifting his body slightly closer to hers. He turns toward her, planting a single forearm on the railing as he observes her in her floral sarong that matches her bikini top. Her hair is bundled lazily on top of her head, and her tanned feet are encased in strappy sandals. Surreptitiously, he takes in her curves while she’s examining the sunset.

Twisting her head quickly, she catches his eyes on her ass. Rather than blushing, he smiles at her instead, well aware that the dimple is doing it’s job appropriately. The live steel drum band starts a new song, and she boldly turns to him, holding out her hand. “Dance?”

He doesn’t respond verbally. Grasping her fingers, Harry wraps one arm around her waist, stepping into her and leading them in time with the music. When he twirls her rather expertly, she laughs, planting a hand on his chest and gazing up at him with what appears to be a phony bashfulness.

“I didn’t know you could dance,” she laughs.

“Clearly you’ve never seen me live on stage,” Harry smirks.

She clucks her tongue, “Oh, but I have. I said what I said, Styles.”

Looking away from her, he can’t help the smile that breaks loose. Damn, she’s got moxie. And it’s intriguing and beguiling.

“You’re here alone?” he wonders, his eyes roaming the outdoor space. It’s filled with strangers -- to him anyway.

“Tonight only. Yes.” She twirls him, and he grins at the move.

“Me too.” The soft words are spoken into her ear as he’s drawn her closer. “I like to spend the first night of the year reflecting on the previous year.”

“Isn’t that what New Year’s Eve is for?” she wonders, her voice breathy.

“Nah. That’s for drinking and celebrating with friends. Today is for reflection -- looking backwards and forwards simultaneously.”

“Planning to conquer the world this year, Mr. Styles?”

“Indeed.” Arching an eyebrow, he mimics a cartoon villain, drawing his pinky to his mouth.

She slaps at his chest, and he desperately wants to kiss her in that moment. After all, they are flirting, aren’t they?

“Are you going to offer me dinner?” she asks boldly. “And take me to your room afterwards?”

Woah. Definitely gutsy. “Depends,” he whispers as he spins them both around once more while the band winds down.

“On what?”

“On what kind of sushi you prefer.”

“Ah!” There’s a gleam in her eye that he can’t resist. She’s playful and not shy about being the seductress. Harry finds the combination heady. Waving her hand in dismissal as she turns towards his table, “I usually try whatever the newest offering is -- especially if it’s fresh from those waters.” Fingers waggle in the direction of the bay, and he wants to grasp them out of the air and wrap them protectively in his own hand.

Instead, he applauds the band before following behind her. At the table, she drags her chair from the opposite side of the small round table until she’s sat beside him. With his questioning glance, she again gestures towards the bay. “I’m not going to miss that sunset just so I can stare at your pretty face.”

Rather than sketching the sunset, he attempts to paint the current sight with words. Everything he writes seems trite: clementines, flames, majestic, radiant, blush, hearth.

Where is she? Yes, it had been a year since they had spoken, but surely she would have sent a message if she weren’t planning to join him? Why hadn’t they exchanged numbers? Followed each other on Instagram?

But he knows why. The mystery. The transcendental experience. The enchantment of meeting once a year, incognito, in this particular and magnificent place. No knowledge of each other outside of this 24 hours that belongs to them alone.

Which is ridiculous. Because he certainly knows who she is and follows her career. And he would be astonished if she didn’t also pay attention to his. A few times this last year they had coincidentally been in the same city simultaneously, and he had seriously debated trying to locate her. Contact her manager maybe. Or put out feelers that would certainly have stretched to her ears like an old-fashioned game of Chinese Whispers (which of course isn’t what he should call the game now; it’s racist). The message, though, would have been garbled but sufficient for them to meet up.

Every time, he refrained. Their unspoken commitment was to this place and this one day a year. Now he regrets not making contact. Had she decided that one day a year wasn’t worth the effort? Was she even now canoodling with someone else? There hadn’t been rumours of any recent love affairs on her end, and he snatches his phone anxiously to search her name just in case she connected with someone during the last week.

Picking up his now-empty glass of tequila as he scrolls through his phone, Harry draws an ice cube into his mouth, swirling it on his tongue to relish every tiny bit of the liquor there. The burn has vanished as it’s taken him nearly an hour to drink one tequila. No record of any new beaus. Maybe he should follow her now on social media? DM her? What would he do if she didn’t show? How much longer should he wait?

“Oh yum! This roll is even better than last year’s.” She proclaims as she rushes to grasp the last bite of the Ceviche Roll.

“Hey! That was mine!” Harry protests, laughing as she stuffs the full piece in her mouth.

“Order more,” she mumbles around the rice, fish, and seaweed flavored with citrus and cilantro.

“Nah, I’ve got a different appetite now,” he murmurs, watching her lips as she chews the sushi.

Freezing, her eyes rush to his, and she slowly finishes the sushi she’s been eating, swallowing slowly. He wishes that she would move her chair to his side of the table like she had the previous year. This time, they’re seated on opposite sides of the table, but at an angle where both can watch the setting sun.

“What?” Her look has made him nervous. “You’re not going to tell me you’re seeing someone, are you?”

Her hair twirls as she shakes her head. “No. Broke up with him last week in anticipation of this.”

Having sipped his tequila, Harry chokes at her words. Coughing, he grasps the table with both hands. Holy fuck. She didn’t really expect him to --

“Kidding!” Her giggle lights up her eyes, bringing a light blush to her face. She’s truly stunning. Maybe even more than last year.

When her foot, sans sandal, caresses his calf under the table, he knows that the night is going to be filled with sex. Fun, hot, brilliant sex that will last most of the night. Hmm...perhaps it would be best to fortify himself for their escapades. Raising his hand, he flags down the server.

“Sir?”

“Another Ceviche Roll, por favor. Plus a bottle of Casamigos.” He pauses as her foot makes its way further up his leg, and he wonders if she’s going to slide under the table completely. “Send it to my room, please.” Voice catching as her toes make contact with his crotch, he demands, “Put it all on my tab please. I’ll settle up later.”

With a nod of agreement, the server disappears. Quickly Harry rises, adjusting his slacks as he glances around the room.

“Let’s go,” his voice rumbles.

“But H -- the sunset,” she whines.

“My room has the same view,” he insists, holding out his hand which she grasps. Gracefully sliding her foot back into her sandal, she rises and glides behind him towards the elevator.

His stomach rumbles at the thought of eating, and he debates ordering food. The sushi at the sunset lounge is always fresh. In the past, though, they’ve enjoyed the dishes together, trying new ones every year. Dejected, he places his glass harshly on the table, his disappointment at her absence radiating across his psyche like the colours of the sunset.

“I would say it’s a solid 8.5,” her voice sounds from over his shoulder, and he twists in surprise. Like the sunset beckons the stars, she summons happiness to his soul. He scrambles to rise, kissing her on both cheeks, his lips lingering each time. Not too long, though, in case others are watching and photographing. Which he always assumes these days. Fans. Paps. No privacy exists anywhere.

“Hi,” he whispers, grateful for her presence, but unable to say the words that would tell her how worried he’s been. That might reveal too much of his emotions. And his heart.

Fuck. When had his heart gotten involved? And why hadn’t he realised before this particular moment?

“You agree?” she smiles, gesturing to the sunset.

“I would say it’s a 9 or maybe even a 9.2,” Harry smiles, his dimple making an appearance to rival the sunset in front of them.

“You finished your drink,” she nods at his empty glass.

“I started early.” It’s a lame excuse, and he knows it.

His annual partner tilts her head in his direction. “Or maybe I’m late?”

Not knowing how to respond, Harry waits, his fingers playing with the coaster underneath his drink, spinning it around, the glass slowly rotating with the cardboard circle with the restaurant’s name on it.

“I debated,” she whispers, “unsure if I should…”

The server appears, a smile on his face. His white trousers and white shirt are complemented by a blue scarf at his neck, his accent strong.

“What can I get you?”

Harry notices the man’s gaze on his companion’s breasts which draws his own attention to the bosom swelling around the buttons of her frock, which he just now notices has sunflowers across the lower half of the skirt. Was that on purpose?

When she exchanges a knowing glance with Harry and smoothes the fabric over her legs, it becomes clear that she knows exactly what she was doing by choosing this dress.

He shifts in his seat.

“I’ll have what he’s having,” she announces.

Harry reminds the server, “Two Casamigos on the rocks please. And your newest sushi roll with light brown rice please. Thanks.”

Nodding, his date agrees to the order, and he’s relieved that at least the basics haven’t changed in the last year.

“You were saying?” he prompts as the steward moves away from them.

“Oh,” she blushes, her cheeks tinging slightly pink. “I just...wasn’t sure…” She swallows, her head down before she makes eye contact with him, “that this was a good idea.”

Taken aback, Harry settles his bum more deeply in his chair, feeling blindsided by the comment, wishing he had his tequila to soothe him in this moment. “I see,” he mumbles.

“Harry --” she begins, and he waves a hand in her direction.

“It’s just casual,” he unceremoniously argues, “right?” But his heart clutches at the phrasing.

Her eyes drop to her lap where her hands are entwined. “Yes. I guess.” Her whisper makes him sweat. Fuck. Had she decided this was it? The last time? “It’s a pretty sunset,” she adds.

“Absolutely,” he concurs, anxious at what else she might say. Silence descends on the table much faster than the stars appear in the sky above them. Should he be vulnerable? Tell her how he feels? What he’s thinking?

This year’s live steel drum band begins a new song, and without pause, she rises, holding her hand out for him to grasp. Grateful for the reprieve, he joins her in their corner of the outdoor restaurant, placing one hand on her waist as she rests her head on his chest. Together, they sway, and his mind wanders.

“I need another lime!” she shrieks gleefully, holding the bottle of tequila in her hand. Harry shakes his head from his position flat on the bed. They are going to need clean sheets before they sleep tonight. Maybe they will go to her room for actual sleep?

What the fuck is he thinking? As if they had actually slept during their rendezvous in the previous two years.

“Here. Hold this,” she laughs, thrusting a lime towards Harry to place in his mouth, pulp out.

“Mhm. Me next,” he mumbles just before his teeth wrap around the green rind.

“You bet,” she giggles. Settling herself on the bed as she straddles him, her soft parts landing on his cock encased in its bright green briefs. She slides down his legs and leans forward, holding the bottle of tequila out to the side. “Mmmmm.” Licking a stripe up from the base of his underpants to his navel, she sprinkles salt there before tilting the bottle of Casamigos and allowing a shot of tequila to land in his taut navel. He’d worked hard on his abs the last couple of months, knowing that he would be lying here with her. They’ve got definition that most blokes only dream of.

Quickly, her tongue captures the salt before she sucks the tequila from his belly and shifts forward to suck the lime that’s in his mouth. Fuck. If he hadn’t been hard before they started this game, he’s certainly got a hammer between his legs now.

As he releases the lime for her, she grips it in her teeth, leaning backwards in her bra and panties, her core now on his chest, and he can’t resist reaching out with a single finger and tracing a pattern over the treasure he knows is underneath.

“You waxed for me this year,” he comments.

“No,” she protests, “I waxed for me this year. You give great oral, and I wanted nothing to get in the way. It’s been far too long since my pussy has been properly eaten.”

“Oh?” Harry’s eyebrow raises, as he knows a couple of people who she dated during the previous year.

“Yep. I would say,” she smiles, leaning down to capture his mouth in a kiss, her lips hovering just above his, “about exactly a year.”

“Hey…” he begins as they finish their silent dance just as their drinks arrive along with the plate of sushi, but he’s interrupted.

“Here are your drinks. Our newest sushi roll is the Hot Lover,” which makes Harry cringe and shift again in his seat. “It’s spicy tuna, shrimp tempura, and avocado wrapped in soybean paper.”

As he places the food in front of them, Harry smiles sadly and nods as the gentleman fades away into the restaurant, like the sunset has drifted into the ocean.

“You were going to say something?” she asks, and he loses all of his courage.

Shaking his head, he grasps a piece of the sushi roll between his fingers, sliding it onto his tongue.

“Not bad,” he comments as he chews, trying to tuck the food in his cheek so he’s not rude.

“It’s really not got a lot of flavour,” she grins as she mimics his eating habit. “Kind of boring.”

Did she mean their relationship? Was this one of those double-entendres? Swallowing the fish and rice concoction, he sips his tequila as the sushi sticks in his throat. For some reason, he wants to cry. It makes no sense, but the tears come unbidden to his eyes. Fuck. Looking away, he sips more of his drink as he watches the remnants of the sunset fade away, blinking furiously.

“I wanted to call you when we were both in New York this year,” he comments softly.

Her fingers pause halfway to her mouth, the soybean-paper-wrapped piece of sushi hovering near her lips. Harry watches as she debates how to respond to his comment, finally placing the fish on her tongue and chewing slowly. Unable to draw his eyes from her mouth, he unapologetically watches as she savors the restaurant’s latest speciality. Eyes closed, she moans. Her hands clutch the table on either side of her, and Harry feels his mouth go dry.

Once she devours the food, she sips her tequila on the rocks, and he can visualize her tongue swirling the liquid around as she either tries to clear the flavour of the fish or fully taste the liquor. After all, her tongue has done that same move to his most favored body part. When she finishes, she makes eye contact with him, her hands resting on either side of her plate, fingers curled. Taking a deep breath, she straightens her fingers flat without breaking eye contact. Fuck. He’s sweating.

“Truth be told, Harry -- I desperately wanted to call you when we were both in Edinburgh that time.”

“Why didn’t you?” His words are faster than his brain, and he immediately wishes he could draw back the question.

“You know why,” she replies, and he nods because he does indeed know all of the reasons. “The sunset --” Her attention is drawn to the colours in the sky, “is lovely, don’t you think?”

“Honestly,” he admits, “I would say this is the best one of all of the times we’ve sat here together.” The words make him cringe. He wants to keep things light, but something about the moment prevents fluff. It feels momentous. Overwhelming.

He watches as her eyes stray from his to the sky before they tear up and she nods in agreement. “Yes, Harry. I would say this is the most breathtaking of the sunsets we’ve seen.”

Did that mean that this would be the last one? Neither of them is getting younger. Sooner or later, one of them will meet “the one”. And then where will the other be? Stuck on an island with a sunset alone? Fuck. He doesn’t want to be that person. But he truly doesn’t want that for her either.

“It’s a sensational sunset,” Harry pleads, his eyes not leaving her face, not straying to the glorious colours, not denying that they have some chemistry together. Why hadn’t he made a play for her before now? Was a hookup enough? Would he be happy if this is the last one?

“Harry,” she sighs, sipping her drink again. “I wonder ---”

The band starts a new song, and he shakes off the sound, willing her to continue. A group at the table behind them sings ‘Happy Birthday’ while another table nearby bursts into laughter and somewhere a server drops a tray of glasses, the shattering drawing applause from a few assholes close to the debacle. Harry ignores all of it.

“Yes? Go on,” he encourages.

“Maybe…” she bites her lip, looking away from him towards the sunset.

“Yes?” His throat is dry, but he doesn’t reach for his tequila or his glass of ice water. Instead, his gaze remains riveted on her.

“Do you think that perhaps we could…”

His breath catches in his throat. What would she say? Would she ask for some random sex act? Cancel their relationship permanently? Or possibly -- miraculously -- suggest that they celebrate more sunsets together instead of just once a year. He holds his breath, waiting impatiently.

“I mean, it would probably be best if we...”

A/N: Reblogs are love, my readers. I appreciate the likes, but reblogs help others find the story and, quite frankly, encourage me to continue publishing here.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #my writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry fanfiction #original writing #harry styles imagine

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softomi · 4 years ago

Text

Slowly But Surely

prompt: I’m only helping you because helping you helps me.

pairing: suna rintarou x reader

Suna was the type to slack off, if helping others meant prolonging the inevitable, then sure he’d help anyone within his sights.

He was supposed to go to the office; the snarky teacher said that he should go tell the principal why sleeping was more productive than math. Suna dragged his feet against the floor, eyes tiredly looking for a way out of going to the office to receive a lecture.

“Fuck.”

When he turned the corner, he saw you there. Papers flown everywhere, a mere pitiful sight. He’s slow, picking up the pieces of papers that were at his feet; the moment you look up to him, a smile on your face, he felt heat rush to his ears. But he’s good at hiding behind mask, he’s good at pretending like it doesn’t matter.

“You’re clumsy.”

It’s like a dagger in your chest, he’s helping you yet also criticizing you, “Okay?”. You weren’t sure how to respond, instead, you two are silent as he helps you grab the last pieces of the fallen papers, “Thanks.”

He leaves you with no time to ask for his name. At least he was able to kill a few minutes helping you pick up the papers.

It was indeed a peculiar thing; now you saw him everywhere and he also, saw you everywhere.

“What are you looking at?” Osamu is looking over Suna’s shoulder, trying to find the direction that has peeked the boy’s interest; all he could see was a tree.

But it was who was lingering behind the tree that mattered, you were sitting with some of your friends; your hands covering the mouth of yours as you laughed merrily.

“Are you a tree hugger?” Osamu inquires, he’s still trying to see what is so interesting about the tree, “Is it like oak or something?”

Suna turns his gaze back to his food, a sigh on his lips, “Don’t you have something better to do, like fight Atsumu.”

As if he was predicting the future, he’s holding his food up as the boys begin to quarrel on the floor. The brawl is so loud, it draws your attention. You could see him, calm and collected, yet the way he’s poking Atsumu with his chopsticks makes you laugh.

He was secretly listening, for once he wasn’t slumped over but rather up straight trying to catch anything you were saying.

“How about Friday after school?” Your voice was sweet compared to the demon in front of you.

“Sure!” Atsumu was waving you off, “See you at the café.”

It was totally coincidental when Friday came and he found himself walking through the doors of the nearby café. He found himself craving a cup of coffee, craving something sweet from the bakery items. It was also totally coincidental that he saw you and Atsumu tucked in the corner, the boy next to you suddenly calling him over.

“What are you doing here?”

Suna holds the steaming cup in his hand, “What does it look like? Volleyball practice? Think I’m about to spike the coffee?”

You let out a giggle, when Atsumu shoots you a look, you straighten up, “Sorry, totally wasn’t funny.” But your hand couldn’t hide the smile on your lips. Atsumu was absolutely devastated that you were actually laughing at the lame joke.

“You want to sit?” You offered a hand out to the seat in front of you, “I’m just tutoring Atsumu in literature.” You don’t know why you felt like you had to explain yourself, “If he hadn’t failed his last quiz, I wouldn’t be stuck here with him.”

Your pencil digs into Atsumu’s temple, he places a hand over his heart, acting as though you’ve shot him. Unlike his usual self, Suna takes the seat; his lips muttering about needing to finish an assignment. This doesn’t go passed Atsumu unnoticed, no; he’s already texting the group that the Suna Rintarou was actually studying.

For once he wasn’t putting off homework.

“You’re supposed to me helping me, you know?” Atsumu had suddenly felt abandoned in the corner, pouting like a child, nothing was making sense to him but why was his tutor suddenly helping Suna with his math homework, “Hello?” Atsumu is tapping your notebook and you finally look at him, “If I fail the next quiz, I won’t be able to play at the next game.”

“Fail then.” Suna bluntly states.

It’s the second time that study session that Atsumu feels a dagger go through his heart. Your giggles don’t make him feel better as you move closer to him to finally help the poor boy pass his class. Suna is watching intently as you lean against Atsumu’s arm; eyes practically drilling a hole into the boy.

“I invited her to our next game!” Atsumu is proudly saying, “She helped me pass literature.”

Suna walks by, a curve in his stature, “Yeah good job on passing with the minimal grade needed, I’m sure she’s real proud.”

Atsumu sticks his tongue out at the boy, “Don’t be jealous, she’ll be cheering for me.”

Suna doesn’t have anything to say back; he’s all out of snarky comments for the day and he’s just waiting for practice to be over. But as luck would have it, more like his energy ran out, Kita sent him home early to rest up. He’s leaving the gymnasium with his things when he sees you, actually; he bumped into you.

“Sorry.” He says, the books in your hand were now scattered on the floor; it oddly reminded him of when he first saw you, “You’re still clumsy.” Instead of handing you the books, he stacks them in his hands.

“I guess I’m still working on that.” You try to grab the stack from his hand, but he turns away from you, “You don’t have to help me.” You catch up to his walking figure.

His calm expression never falters, “I’m not, I’m just delaying time until I have to go home.”

“Oh, okay. Well, we’re heading to the library then.”

He freezes in his steps, he’s consciously aware now that he’s at the entrance of the school. You’re giggling when he turns around, footsteps heading straight for the library as you follow alongside him.

“You’re coming to our next game right?” He’s walking with you to the school’s entrance.

You nod, “Yeah, I’ll try to make it. Atsumu asked me to go but I’m not sure if I’ll be able to.” You’re smiling sheepishly, “I don’t know much about volleyball, so I don’t know if it’ll do any good to show up. Besides, he has his fangirls, he won’t even notice I’m there.”

He’s stopped at the entrance, you mimic his actions, “You should come.” He says it plainly; attempting to mask that he wants you to come for him.

“Should I?” You’re looking up at him, your lips pressed into a thin smile, “Are you asking me?”

“I’m telling you.”

His words nearly knocked you off of your feet. It caused the gears in your head to stop working, it caused your heart to flutter, it made you blush; and he knows he’s got you.

Your finger points behind you, “I have to get my stuff from my classroom.”

“I’ll wait for you.” He’s straightforward, already leaning against the building’s entrance with his phone in hand. Discreetly, he’s watching you walk off quickly towards your classroom.

At the game, you catch two boys looking up to you.

“Would you look at that, she’s in my cheering section.” Atsumu is smug, shamelessly waving to you.

“That’s the cheering section for our school, yours is over there.” Suna points to the trashcan.

Atsumu is too distracted trying to bicker with Suna that he doesn’t notice the way your shoulders are covered with a familiar maroon jacket. Suna looks to you in the crowd, your lips forming his name; he didn’t feel like slacking off during this game.

#haikyuu x reader #suna x reader #haikyuu #suna rintarou #haikyuu scenarios #suna scenarios #hq suna #hq scenarios

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peachyteez · 4 years ago

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angel nurse ≫ DAY THREE, LEAP OF FAITH

this fox hybrid was brought into the recovery facility covered in scratches, whip marks, blood, and every other injury you could imagine. due to this, yeosang has trouble trusting humans, as he was afraid they could just hurt him all over again. until he meets jiyu, his “angel nurse”.

PART OF THE HEAVEN SERIES.

✧ taglist: @defsoul15, @jaeminpeachy, @joongiebug, @sunsethw4, @t-tbinnie, @chanyeolol, @danibookmarks, @hello-its-ya-boi, @murralyn, @alienmashup, @panini, @moon8894, @koasworld, @taetae123094, @luv3rxcha, @treasure-hwa, @etherealbyeol, @hwaseongzzz, @lovely-sanie, @orbitiiny, @pirate-of-the-dark-seas, @babydolljo, @ms-starlight, @everrrlasting, @bls-luv-me, @atzgiggle, @arohabyeol, @rainbowmagicpixecorn, @soverystupid, @ayetothezee, @kingalls00, @sanstreasure0305, @sparklingmallow, @peachseok

✧ notes: seojin is a made up character! refer to the following to maybe play a little game? ⬇️

if you can guess who i visualized seojin as, there may or may not be a little surprise :)

hint: i visualized him off a webtoon character!

hint: said webtoon has to do with vampires

there’s also a small description of him in the story 👀

back。| next。

yeonjun pinched his nose bridge as he tried processing his dear best friend’s words. “so how do you plan on helping him recover if...you’re not going to see him in person?” he asked.

jiyu bit the inside of her cheek in thought. “i haven’t figured that out yet. but i don’t think it’s a good idea for him to be exposed to human interactions yet. he seemed so closed off and unwilling to cooperate when i came in yesterday.” she said.

“but do you really think he’ll warm up to people when he’s in there by himself?” yeonjun asked. “it’s not like he'll magically—”

“i know, i know,” she groaned before running her hand through her hair. for once, she was stumped on what to do. she didn’t want to force him to break his walls down, but she didn’t want to leave him alone for too long.

“maybe i can ask taehyun to talk to him?” yeonjun offered. “he told me they’re friends.”

she shook her head. “i don’t want to make it look like we’re using his friends to have him cooperate. if anything, it could push him further into his shell.”

yeonjun quietly chuckled before ruffling her hair. “well, seojin checked up on him earlier and he looked to be okay. physically, he looked to be recovering from his injuries, but he looked to have a lot on his mind, according to seojin anyways.”

seojin was one of the hybrid assistants that the facility employs to help patients settle into their new, temporary living space. jiyu remembered him; he used to be one of her former patients before getting adopted by a new family. after settling in, he decided to return to the facility as a caretaker assistant. coincidentally, he was assigned as jiu’s hybrid assistant. small world.

“is that so...?” she mused. “where’s seojin? i might ask him a few questions.”

“last time i saw him, he was in the break room.”

making a beeline for the break room, she saw the familiar tabby hybrid sitting and sipping at his milk carton.

“oh? miss jiyu! it’s been a while,” seojin greeted as jiyu took the seat across from him. jiyu did a double take at how much he had changed compared to the last time she saw him. he was no longer a small, frail tabby cat hybrid; he now looked to be thriving, buff might she even add. he even dyed his hair red, although a bit darker than mingi’s.

“why does no one ever listen to me when i tell them to drop the ‘miss’?” she playfully groaned.

“sorry, force of habit,” he chuckled, referring to his time spent under her care. “but what’s up?”

“you checked on the new fox hybrid this morning, right?” she asked.

one of seojin’s ears twitched as he tilted his head. “the grumpy one? then yes, i did.”

“you say that as if you weren’t grumpy yourself,” she wryly commented with a chuckle. “i had enough scratches to tell.”

he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. “anyways, yeah, i checked up on him this morning. poor guy seemed lost in his own thoughts. he spent most of the time looking out the window with this distant look in his eyes,” he recounted. “i managed to get his name, though. it’s yeosang.”

“yeosang...” she said to herself. the name sounded so smooth as it rolled off her tongue. “is he...better?”

seojin pursed his lips. “i asked him if he was willing to let people here help him, but he seemed to shut down at the thought. but i gave him a small pep talk, too so there's maybe a slim chance that his mind cracked a little.”

she thoughtfully nodded. “i can understand here he comes from though. being abandoned by people you love into a harsher reality is never fun. nor will it be easy to forgive,” she mindlessly commented. “but i need to check up on him sooner or later, i can’t just leave him in there by himself for who knows how long. i just...don’t know how to approach him,” she said, wracking her brain for any new ideas.

“maybe you just need to show him like how you did with that tiger hybrid. hongjoong, i believe was his name? during my visits with him, i saw how he changed after each day,” he said. “coming from a hybrid that was treated here, we all come in a little skeptic and hesitant about accepting help from humans, when they were sometimes the root of our problems and why we ended up here in the first place. but you all never gave up on us, and still treated us with care and kindness. it may be part of your job description but we all still appreciate your efforts since we never received much prior to being here.”

jiyu was touched by his words, and also found solace in them. she was glad that majority of the hybrids found comfort and love here. after all, that was the primary goal of their recovery process: to accept a helping hand from their caretakers, form a trust connection with them. “...i’m glad to hear that.”

a small grin was plastered on seojin’s face. “what i’m trying to say is, yeosang might be a little bit more closed off than the others, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t yearn for love and kindness like the rest of us.” finishing his milk, he stood up to throw the carton away and leave. he bent down and booped his head with her’s, giving it the smallest of nuzzles. “i’m sure your hybrids won’t appreciate my scent on you, so take this small nuzzle and good luck!” he childishly grinned before leaving the break room.

watching the tabby cat hybrid leave the room, she chuckled as she watched his tail sway back and forth before she was left alone with her own thoughts. “in a way, i guess he's right...she mused to herself. “alright then, i’ll pay him a visit tomorrow,” she promised herself, the plants by the windowsill being her only witnesses. with the promise, she left the break room to return to the office. as she passed by yeosang’s room, she resolved her promise again.

in his room, yeosang was curled up in the hospital bed as he replayed the conversation he had with seojin a few hours before.

“will you be willing to allow the people here to help?” seojin asked as he joined yeosang by the window, looking out at the different hybrids wandering around with their caretakers.

yeosang was silent. he still didn’t know if he could take another potential betrayal. how would he end up? where would he end up? looking back down outside at the various hybrids, although he would never admit, he was envious of them. envious at how they were able to open up so easily to others, envious at how they were able to smile freely without a care in the world, and envious at how they managed to form a connection with other humans.

seojin observed yeosang’s expressions and slightly smiled before returning his gaze back outside. “i was here once, too,” he admitted, earning yeosang’s attention. “and i had jiyu as my caretaker, too.”

yeosang remembered the female that came in the previous day and inwardly cringed at how awkward they regarded each other.

“and i was like you, too. got hurt pretty bad by my old owners, not to mention other people when i became a stray. and not to mention i gave jiyu enough scratches for a lifetime,” he chuckled. “but she never gave up on me. she always came back at the same time, whether it be for medical checkups or just for a casual hello—”

“why are you telling me this?” yeosang quietly interrupted before feeling a sharp pain on his side. grimacing, he clutched onto his side and slightly bent over from the unexpected pain.

seojin immediately helped him to sit back on the bed before checking his wound and changing the bandages. while preparing the cotton ball and tweezers for the ointment, seojin gently smiled. “i told you because i thought maybe it’d help you relax a little bit while being here,” he said before spreading ointment on yeosang’s gash. “maybe if you heard some personal experiences, maybe i can help you open up a little.”

after changing yeosang’s bandages, seojin started preparing to leave. “maybe give jiyu a chance. i can guarantee she won’t harm you. actually, she’s more prone to accidentally hurting herself rather than others,” he laughed. “see you tomorrow!”

and with that, the door slid shut behind seojin.

yeosang sighed, staring up at the rectangles on the ceiling. it was a constant game of tug-of-war in his mind. ‘yes, maybe she’s different and you can open up’ but also, ‘no, you’ve been through too much to risk it all again’. it wasn’t like he wasn’t taking seojin’s personal experience into consideration, it was just...opening up again was hard.

how did others do it? how did they find it in themselves to be open and friendly with humans again, when humans were the reasons majority of them were there in the first place?

either they have guts of steel, or i’m just a coward. he thought. but the scars and marks on his body were constant reminders of his old life. a life full of pain, anger, distress. fear. he never wanted to feel as much fear as he did ever again.

but he realized that he would never be able to escape his bubble of uncertainity if he just wallowed in it. if he continued to stay how he was, he would never break the cycle of doubts.

taking a deep breath at his revelation, he closed his eyes and steeled his nerves, making a promise to himself.

i’ll take the leap of faith. whether or not it turns out well, that’ll be fate's decision.

#9th member of ateez #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #kang yeosang #kang yeosang imagines #yeosang imagines #yeosang scenarios #ateez yeosang #hybrid au #kpop hybrid au #hybrid!ateez #ateez hybrid #ateez au

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nagisa-shiota-worthy-shit · 4 years ago

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Star Signs and Loving Gestures

Karmagisa week 2021 day 4 prompt: Stars AKA: stargazing date

wordcount: 1693 (may be posted to AO3 later)

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Karma had thought of pretty much everything. When he’d initially informed Nagisa of the stargazing date he’d planned, he figured it would be a mess like many of their dates ended up being. Something as simple and intimate as stargazing was something that didn’t come natural to Karma and Nagisa. Sure, they’d ended up cuddling together and watching the sky before, but it had been spontaneous, and not the entire date.

Yet, there they were, laying down on a blanket on a small grass field, bodies as close to each other as was possible while still remaining comfortable. Karma had remembered to bring food and drinks, even being so responsible as to make one of those options fruit. Nagisa appreciated that. As nice as unhealthy snacks were, he was the kind of person to eat a lot of fruit just because he enjoyed it. Karma had made fun of him for that before.

“Can you pass me a strawberry?” Karma asked, pointing towards a container just out of his reach.

Nagisa handed it to him with a smile, “Being healthy?”

“No,” Karma scoffed, “I brought nutella to dip it in. Literal heaven.”

Yeah, that was just about what Nagisa expected. It wasn’t like Karma never ate fruit, when it came to strawberries he almost seemed addicted at times, but this wasn’t the time of day for his boyfriend to pull up the healthy options. Nights to Karma Akabane menat snacking and gaming time, where convenience went above health.

It didn’t matter, just meant there was more fruit for Nagisa. And that’s what was most important. Karma had brought it for him. It was nice and considerate of him. He couldn’t help but feel just so happy in that moment, knowing how in love he was with his boyfriend and how much he loved him back, with a nice starry sky to decorate their evening.

“It’s so pretty,” Nagisa sighed, unsure if it was just a thought or something he wanted Karma to know, “yet so simple looking at the same time.”

It was a clear night, warm and comfortable, in the middle of the summer. The day had been terrible, but that was over now. The sun had taken the worst of the heat with it as it had gone down. Now, all was perfect. The star were visible, and Nagisa was comfortable in simple jeans and a t-shirt. He’d brought a jacket, still, just to be sure.

“How cute and romantic would it have been if I looked up romantic stories written in the stars beforehand?” Karma asked, “In the constellations, I mean.”

“But you didn’t?”

“Hell no.”

Nagisa shook his head, laughing ever so slightly. This was just about what he was used to from his boyfriend. Not that he minded, it was part of this very specific charm Nagisa had grown to love. Besides, he’d put in enough effort in planning the rest of the date. He could deal with no romantic stories in the stars.

“I can tell you about zodiac star signs though.” Karma added.

“What?” Nagisa looked confused, “Like when you’re born and stuff?”

“Yeah, well,” Karma shrugged, “I can point some of them out in the sky, if you want.”

It sounded interesting enough to Nagisa. He was a little surprised Karma had done enough stargazing to be able to find the zodiacs. Then again, he did say he could point out “some,” so perhaps he only knew a few. Nagisa wondered which ones he knew.

So, he let Karma talk, point at the sky, and explain which signs were where. It was a little confusing at times. Nagisa recognized a few of them, although he was unable to locate them in the sky himself, but sometimes seeing the patterns in them was a little hard. When Karma was pointing out capricorn, his own birth sign, Nagisa was just full on confused.

“Am I supposed to see a goat in that?” He asked.

“A sea goat, yes.” Karma nodded. The way he said it made it sound like he thought he’d said something logical.

To Nagisa, it had been the furthest off from that. In what universe did the words “sea goat” make sense colloquially? Last Nagisa checked, goats didn’t live in the sea.

“first of all, sea goats aren’t a thing,” Nagisa spoke matter of factly, “Second, that is a triangle.”

Now, Karma shook his head. He rolled his eyes, a gesture Nagisa didn’t appreciate, and then returned looking his boyfriend in the eyes. The look in his eyes was as stupid as his gesture had been. He looked like he was patronizing Nagisa. Nagisa made sure to glare at him in response. That toned down Karma’s expression a little.

“It’s a mythical thing, first of all,” Karma corrected him, “Secondly, it’s a little more abstract than that, wise guy.”

Nagisa still didn’t see it, but he accepted the explanation for now. He wanted to ask what a sea goat was, but he did not want to be patronized again. So, he kept quiet, and looked back up at the stars. All he saw when looking at the capricorn sign was just a triangle. He wondered who ever made up these so-called drawings in the sky. Mentally, he made a note to do some research on it later.

Because it was so late, he had gotten a little tired by that point. It wasn’t like he’d done too much during the day, but he still had been awake for a rather long time. The coziness of cuddling with Karma wasn’t helping that mood. Karma had such a nice and warm body temperature, like a large, personal heater for Nagisa.

He cuddled up a little closer to Karma, resting his head on his shoulders, and grabbed ahold of Karma’s hand with his own. For a moment, time passed in silence, the two of them connected just like that, the sky full of stars watching them. Then, Karma spoke up and ruined what was once a beautiful moment.

“ewl I just realized you’re a cancer.”

Nagisa couldn’t have moved away from Karma faster, moving back so he could look his boyfriend in the eyes. Genuine disgust, that’s what he saw. He hadn’t started laughing yet. He’d better start laughing soon. Even if Nagisa didn’t think this was remotely funny, he sure as hell hoped Karma had intended it that way.

“Excuse me?!” Nagisa looked appalled at his boyfriend.

“Your zodiac,” Karma responded, still not laughing, “You’re a cancer.”

The point was, Nagisa knew that. Of course he knew his own zodiac sign. And the problem… Well, the problem was that Karma was saying it like it was a bad thing. Nagisa didn’t think it was. He didn’t see how being a specific zodiac made him a better or a worse person. Karma, however, seemed very opinionated on it, and his opinion didn’t appear to be anything Nagisa would like.

So, he just stared at him for a moment again, unsure what to say about the matter. Then, he shook his head in an attempt to organize his thoughts. He had to ask for more information. There was always a chance he was misinterpreting this. He’d better be misinterpreting it.

“I know that,” Nagisa slowly said. “Now can you tell me why that would be disgusting?”

Karma blinked. He pursed his lips as he scanned Nagisa’s face. Nagisa was sure the annoyance was clearly portrayed there. Whatever Karma was about to say next, it better be thought through very well. Karma seemed to understand that sentiment very well, considering he actually took the time to think about his words before answering the question.

“Cancers are known for being moody and emotional,” Karma finally said, “You know, like, they take stuff very personal.”

“I don’t do that.”

“You’re… literally doing it right now.”

Now, Nagisa was silenced for a moment. Surely he wasn’t making this about himself, Karma was. Karma had started by calling him out for being a cancer. Well, Nagisa himself had been the one to take the comment seriously. And, he himself had been the one to take the description to himself rather than just a stereotype Karma was explaining.

No, that didn’t matter. What mattered was that he wasn’t like that. Anyone could be emotional, given the right circumstances. Just because he reacted with a lot of passion, and the moment happened to already be about him personally, didn’t mean he was giving in to stereotypes. A zodiac didn’t define Nagisa.

“They’re also known for being gifted in understanding people’s feelings and thoughts, not too far off from your assassin skills.”

Shit, so maybe Nagisa was a little bit typical for a cancer.

“That stuff is nonsense,” Nagisa argued, “purely coincidental.”

There was a silence, followed by the sound of Karma’s laugh. Nagisa didn’t understand what was funny. What he said had been pretty logical. Whatever star sign you were born in didn’t influence who you were as a person. Nagisa would stand by that argument. Why Karma’s response to that idea was to laugh, was something only Karma could really explain.

“I never said I believed in it,” Karma simply said.

“You sure acted like it,” Nagisa pouted once more, “Your sense of humour is bad.”

Karma simply shrugged, and Nagisa figured he may as well drop the subject. At least now he knew Karma didn’t actually judge him for the day he was born. That would have been a weird argument to ruin a relationship with. He tried to release the issue with a deep sigh, and returned his eyes up to take in the wonders of the sky.

Eventually, Karma forced himself closer to him again, once again taking back the hand Nagisa had ripped away moments earlier. Nagisa let him. He, too, wanted to go back to the more romantic mood they’d been having. Soon enough, he felt like they had gone back to that, and the previous conversation was merely a past joke. The comfort of hugging his boyfriend as they looked at a pretty view made everything much better.

“For what it’s worth,” Karma whispered, “You’re my favourite cancer.”

#KarmagisaWeek21 #Karma Akabane #Nagisa Shiota #karmagisa #karunagi #assassination classroom #ansatsu kyoushitsu #anime #fandom week #ship week #ship #stars

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vaindumbass · 4 years ago

Text

The ministry is good for one (1) thing... getting Tonks a date

‘Why-’ Tonks says to the head that is currently sticking out of her fireplace, ‘Why did you ask me for this job.’

Charlie doesn’t even hesitate before answering. ‘Because you speak French fluently, and because you love me and therefore couldn’t say no.’

Mentally, Tonks curses out the Black family and their fucked up traditions. Why French, of all things? Then she corrects herself and blames her mother instead, for keeping this particular tradition. Couldn’t she have gone hunting when she was ten, instead? Bella always thought that was great fun.

Out loud, she replies. ‘I could’ve said no. If I wanted to.’

‘So you want to do this? Good to hear! You can always thank me later, a gift basket would be nice-’

Tonks scoffs at Charlie’s way too wide grin, a laugh threatening to crack out on her face too. ‘You know what, Charlie?’

‘What?’ he says, smugly, as if he’s won.

‘You weren’t completely wrong. I couldn’t have said no.’

‘I know.’

‘You were wrong about one thing, though.’

The fire crackles as Charlie cocks his head. ‘Well?’

Tonks pulls her face into something sad and melancholic to the best of her ability, and looks dramatically into the distance. ‘I don’t love you.’

Charlie’s gasp is loud enough that Tonks almost fears that he’ll douse the flames, somehow. ‘How dare you! Was all this…. a lie?’ After he has stared morosely into the flames for a while, though, he asks: ‘But seriously, babe, what is it?’

The back of Tonks’ shoulders itches a little now that they aren’t joking anymore, and she feels a bit too closely scrutinized. ‘It’s not that bad, okay? You don’t have to look so worried.’

Charlie still looks worried.

‘It’s just- remember how you asked me so that I could translate what she would say?’

‘Sure.’

‘Well, since she’s here partially to improve her English, she told me that I wasn’t really needed.’

‘Okay.’ Charlie says, ‘And?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You wouldn’t be bothered this much by that. I know you, can’t fool me.’

‘Okay so I may have-’

‘May have or you did?’

Tonks ignores him, words spilling out of her. ‘I may have spilled my coffee on her. And she’s so fucking pretty, Charlie, and confident, which I’m apparently attracted to?’

‘There we go,’ He mutters under his breath. Tonks isn’t done.

‘And she doesn’t sugarcoat stuff, you know? So logically I know that she means it when she says that it’s okay, and that she doesn’t mind me ruining her clothes, but what if she secretly hates me now?’

‘Mhm.’

‘She was perfectly kind, though, and have I mentioned how good-looking she is? Name is Fleur, by the way, and sure looks aren’t everything, I change mine on the daily, but the way she looks when she smiles… Only, there’s no excuse for me to stay around her, anymore, and now I’ll never see her again, and she’ll only remember me as that horrible person who ruined her day.’

Charlie’s laugh rings around the room, warm and comfortable, and some ash gets on the carpet when he finally decides to just step out of the fireplace. ‘I’m going to have to stop you there, babe. You’re not just here to speak the language of love-’ After these words, there’s a horrible eyebrow wiggle, and Tonks makes and even weirder face back, just because she can. ‘- but also to show her around!’

‘I don’t even work here anymore! It really is weird that you couldn’t find anyone else who speaks French. I mean- Sirius does?’

‘Yes,’ Charlie responds, while walking around in her house in that comfortable way of his, easily settling down on her couch, ‘because I know Sirius so much better than I know you.’

Tonks lifts up his legs so that there is some space for her to sit, and then keeps one hand curled around his ankle, the other gesturing wildly, almost hitting the lamp that stands near. ‘I don’t know! You both like animals, right?’

‘You know very well that Sirius has adopted a hippogriff. Now, if it’d been a dragon-’

‘Fair enough,’ Tonks says, because while she loves Charlie’s ranting there’s still one topic she’d like clarity on, ‘But still, aren’t there people who speak French and, like, actually work at the ministry?’

Charlie purses his lips. ‘Maybe. But while I am very aro ace I still have eyes and she’s indeed very pretty, and you are very single, so-’

He can’t even finish the sentence before Tonks has thrown a pillow at him. He throws one back, of course, and soon enough they’re two adults in a full-on pillow war, laughing up and until Tonks accidentally punches Charlie in the face.

She gets him some ice and then they just cuddle on the couch for a bit, legs intertwined, and as Charlie tells her about the proper way to clip a dragon’s toenails, she gets a feeling as if she might just be able to handle the whole Fleur thing.

~~~

Tonks is not able to handle the whole Fleur thing.

They don’t spill their coffee again, they’re trying to be careful now, but she’s already confusing departments, and accidentally pressing all the buttons in the lift, which isn’t really appreciated by anyone.

Fleur just laughs at that. ‘How did you press all of them?’

‘I was-’ Tonks stammers, ‘I was trying to hold on to something so I wouldn’t fall.’

‘Why not hold on to me?’ Fleur asks, a thick French accent coating her words, and Tonks just stares for a while. Is this flirting? Is it a joke that Tonks is simply too dumb to get? Should they respond to this with ‘but then I wouldn’t have fallen for you’ and some finger guns?

Tonks only knows the answer to that last one (it’s ‘no’, in case that wasn’t clear). ‘It’s- erm- I mean-’

Fleur just smiles at them in a way that Tonks wishfully thinks might be flirtatious. Tonks is suddenly very glad blushes don’t really show up on their dark skin.

A voice calls out ‘Department of Magical Games and Sports’ and Tonks and Fleur get out, because this was the next part of the tour.

Fleur, her eyes lingering on the various posters hung on the walls, says, ‘Aren’t people here supposed to be impartial? This must be inefficient.’

‘For sure,’ Tonks says, never one to defend the ministry, ‘it’s all a bit shoddy, as if it’s taped together with duct tape.’ (They very carefully pronounce that last word. Who knows, maybe muggle knowledge will impress Fleur?)

‘Then why do you work for it?’

A laugh curls Tonks lips. ‘I don’t! Me and Moody, that’s my old mentor, have opened a sort of private detective office.’

They aren’t even walking through the corridor anymore. One quidditch poster (The Chudley Cannons) is slightly crinkled where Fleur’s shoulder is leaning on it. She throws a bit of her long blonde hair over her shoulder. ‘Then why are you giving me a tour here?’

With a bit of a crooked grin, Tonks answers: ‘Like I said, a bit shoddy.’

Tonks likes the fact that they’re talking now, likes it very much, and therefore they try to lean on the wall just as casually as Fleur does, but they miscalculate, and the ground suddenly comes at them with an alarming speed.

‘Watch out!’ Fleur says, from somewhere very, very close, a flowery smell suddenly surrounding them. One of Fleur’s arms is around their upper arm, the other one curled around their waist. Fleur is very warm. Coincidentally, so are Tonks’ cheeks.

They get up quickly, trying not to elbow Fleur, avoiding eye contact just a little bit. ‘When you said I could hold on to you, I didn’t think I’d need it this quickly.’

Fleur snorts. ‘I am not all too surprised, honestly.’

‘That’s fair,’ Tonks' heart is still beating wildly.

There’s a bit of a silence, and Tonks wrecks their brain for something to talk about. They don’t want this to be over just yet. Luckily, Fleur speaks up.

‘How is being a metamorphmagus? I am part-Veela, and I know other magical beings are immune for that, but I do not know much more. What do you change most often?’

‘My hair,’ Tonks laughs, raking a hand through it (short and a deep blue today), ‘It’s partly apart from my body, in a way, so it takes a bit more effort to change, but once it’s a different colour it stays that way without any effort.’

Fleur cocks her head. ‘It takes effort to change?’

‘For sure. Not all that much, but if I change too much for too long I get a headache. I would never change my skin tone, but if I did I’d get really grouchy, most probably. Oh! And I sometimes change my nose and such as a party trick.’

‘Sounds fun,’ Fleur says, a smile playing on her lips. Tonks seriously considers changing their nose into the one of that squid in the cartoon Hermione showed her, before realizing that that wouldn’t impress Fleur, but rather the opposite.

‘It is! But I get tired if I do it too much. That’s also why, on days that gender is-’ Tonks makes a vague hand gesture, ‘- I sometimes wear a binder, because while I can make my chest flatter, sometimes I’ll be concentrating on some work and suddenly, bam!’ They mimick an explosion in front of their chest, pushing their hands forward.

Fleur snickers. ‘Poor you.´ That sounds like the end of the conversation, but Tonks has finally had enough time to get their brain to work again, and they’ve come up with a new topic.

‘So, what are you here for?’

‘Did you not get that information?’ (Tonks had never said it was a good topic)

‘No, I did, but I thought you might be able to explain it better?’

‘Oh.’ Fleur says, ‘well, I am looking into the practical applications of magic, but specifically on magical creatures. Dragons, for example, can be lured to sleep with a sleeping charm, but can resist most hexes without any effort.

‘Giants, who can also resist hexes, can easily resist a sleeping charm, but curses can seriously harm them, and that’s already fascinating, but I’m going to look into what effects other kinds of magic have, outside of wizardry, starting with Veela magic, because I happen to possess that, and that's not even talking about how that magic works. Only female Veela have any sort of non-wixard magical power, but the magic is not stored in the uturus as one might think, because I do not have one, but still have magic. How does the magic know that?’

Fleur had been talking slowly and deliberately ever since Tonks had met her, as if she was weighing the words, remembering the pronunciation, but now she talks faster, a flush on her cheeks.

‘But I'm getting of topic. I will mostly work with stuff like: why does Veela magic affect unicorns but not dragons? Why does it affect giants but not metamorphmagi? And if it doesn’t affect metamorphmagi, then why do you still get so flustered?’

‘I-’ Tonks says, ‘Erm-’

‘Do not worry,’ Fleur says, smiling ever-so-slightly, ‘I think I know the answer. Would you like to go on a date with me?’

Honestly, Tonks didn’t think a dingy corner lined with quidditch posters could ever be romantic, but Fleur makes it work, with the soft lighting on her cheek, and that fucking gorgeous smile on her lips. ‘Yes,’ they answer (was there ever another option?), ‘I’d like that very much.’

In a sudden rush of courage (what are they, a gryffindor?) they ask: ‘Can I kiss you?’

Fleur nods, and they discover that yes, Fleur’s smile tastes as wonderful as it looks.

#flonks #in my timezone its still femslash february so im saying it counts #even tho this isnt completely FEMslash yall get what i mean #fleur delacour #nymphadora tonks #charlie weasley #to anyone wondering: yes this is what prompted the 'charlie weasley calls his friends 'babe'' post #and im right!!!!#oneshot #mywriting #i took hp lore and RAN with it #fleur is just so smart tho.... that deserves its own place #and moody and tonks ruining a private detectives business is actually something that can be so personal-#also just so yall know charlie doesnt work for the ministry EITHER the reason why he could still get tonks the job is. well.#its explained in the story

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luminousalicorn · 4 years ago

Note

I apologize if this is intrusive, please feel free to ignore if so. (I am asking mostly because I would like more information on this topic for myself, not to stalk you.) How do you feel about having had children? Is there anything about parenthood that isn't as you expected? Do you feel that you still have a full life yourself?

I love having kids and am delighted to have them and plan to have some more. It’s incredibly cool that something can be that valuable and I can just manufacture ‘em at home with ingredients I already possess. (Hi, spouse.)

They are a lot, though. I recommend to anyone on the fence about having kids who can feasibly arrange it to live with - not babysit, not even necessarily do a ton of caretaking for, but just live in the same house as - young children. There’s not a great way to convey the merciless relentlessness of having a child who insists on continuing to exist and want and need regardless of how much sleep you got, how sick you are, how many times you have already read that book, how tired your arms or how aching your feet, how hungry or sweaty or needy-for-cognition you’ve gotten, how much or little support happens to be available that day. It’s a lot. I have a ton of support, and I also have more support now than I did when my first was new. Not coincidentally, I barely remember my first baby’s infancy and am enjoying the second one lots more. I was not getting enough sleep to form many long-term memories, first time. Lots of people tolerate sleep deprivation better than I do, to be clear, but you need to be aware that it’s a whole fuck of a lot.

But man, they’re so cool? If you spend that much time around a little person you get to be able to read them pretty well and they’re doing such cognitively fascinating things constantly, you get to watch all kinds of atomic human concepts be broken down into pieces by the force of a tiny mind trying to grow. Probably not everyone gets a kid as cool as mine, who is four and can read and do her own D&D arithmetic and play a competent game of chess and rack up hundreds of XP on Duolingo a day, but my understanding is that people whose kids are less objectively cool also find things to appreciate about them. Also did you know babies in addition to being adorably incompetent are soft, and smell good, and if you have your own baby nobody will think it’s very weird if you put your entire face on your baby for these reasons even well past the point it would be super weird with somebody else’s baby, and also if you are fortunate your baby might laugh about it?

Diapers are nothing and sleep is everything. Parents aren’t better at parenting tasks because of magic or even because they responsibly read the entire parenting manual, they’re better at them because they are forced to practice way way way more than anyone would naturally choose to practice any such tasks (and accordingly your skills will be uneven depending on how you divide those tasks). Like many things, parenting is subject to the novel intervention effect where if you try something that seems like it might help, it will probably help, but only for a little while, so your creativity is very much a limiting factor on your effectiveness. Your house will not be clean for several years unless you throw really quite a lot of money or time at it. The constantly asking “why” thing is not an imaginary stereotype, they actually do that. Teething is bad. Sleep training is bad and the only thing worse than sleep training is not sleep training (some people can get by with co-sleeping or whatever, we can’t.) You will spend a truly unreasonable amount of time thinking about and discussing human waste.

I do not feel that I have given up anything I was in fact doing to have kids. However, this has something do to with the stuff I was in fact doing. My hobbies are writing and reading and faffing about on the Internet and cooking. You will notice I did not include, say, exciting travel, or actually anything that takes me out of my house or renders me unavailable for more than a couple hours in a row. Do some people have kids and also hobbies that involve leaving their house for more than a couple hours in a row? Sure! How do they do that? I have no earthly clue, I had to negotiate with my coparents to arrange those couple hours twice weekly in which I can go sit in the yard and read half a novel without being festooned with children. (I’m the primary caretaker; my coparents would have less necessary negotiation to do that sort of thing. I on the other hand have been asking permission to take showers for the last four years because the buck stops with me unless I make really sure someone else is aware that they have taken possession of the buck and can’t drop it in my lap until I re-emerge.) Maybe they hire more babysitters (we’ve managed to almost totally avoid leaving the kids with strangers), maybe they embark on logistics projects in order to have their kids come with them whitewater rafting or whatever, I don’t know. Ask one of them. My life is basically like it was before except now it is 85% kids by volume. It turned out the rest of it compressed pretty well, with some adjustments.

Look at my preternaturally photogenic baby.

#who told you I had a life #Anonymous

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moonbeam-writing · 4 years ago

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Hi!! Can I request you a Kuroo scenario where he falls in love with the reader one day after seing one of her match for the first time during a tournament ? After running into her a few times, he ends up taking the courage to talk to her (or confessing ? 👀)

— Love at First Sight

๑ Requested by a lovely Anon!

๑ Quick Note: Of course! This is so cute! Thank you for requesting, lovely! <3

๑ Characters: Kuroo Tetsurou (Haikyuu!!)

๑ Warnings: None!

๑ Word Count: 1,500

—

The first time Kuroo Tetsurou saw you, you took his breath away. He had little to no clue who you were or which school you went to, but what he did know is that he wanted to get to know you more. At that moment, though, he had a game to focus on, but his heart was set on seeing you afterward somehow.

However, despite having the game to focus on, he still found his eyes finding their way to you before each set, had managed to pick up the sound of your cheering amongst the crowd, or at least what he thought was your cheering. That part was purely wishful thinking on his end, but Kuroo knew he’d love the sound of your voice regardless of whether or not that was you. At one point during the match, Kuroo had even managed to catch your eye.

He found himself convinced that love, at first sight, was a possibility. He knew that it wasn’t love, at least not yet, but he certainly knew that it was infatuation. He felt this strange pull towards you like he needed to meet you no matter what. Kuroo thought about looking around his wrist or pinkie multiple times throughout the small breaks he had, wondering if the Red String myth about soulmates was true, but didn’t. He didn’t need to seem like he was crazy in front of you or anyone else, realizing that if that were the case, he would have seen the string by now. That one moment of eye contact changed everything.

After the tournament ended, Kuroo nearly missed you. He had managed to just barely catch you on your way out, politely tapping on your shoulder and introducing himself. Your hand felt so small in his as you shook it and your smile practically made his heart stop. The slightly noticeable tint on your cheeks was adorable and Kuroo couldn't help but feel like you felt the same. Of course, you did feel the same. There was something about his wild hair and the obvious passion with the game. The captain that you only just learned the name of had somehow managed to draw you in. Unfortunately for the two of you, you both lived a good five hours away from each other. For the time being, the two of you settled with exchanging names and numbers, hoping to gain the courage to possibly text the other first.

Though it was a few months before the two of you saw each other again, but when you did, it was exciting. It was completely random and purely by chance.

Kuroo had been in town for a game and the two of you had coincidentally gone into the same coffee shop, Kuroo, however, was convinced it was by fate. Any time Kuroo had seen you, despite it only being twice, it was by pure chance and he wasn’t about to question it too much. He got to see you and he wasn’t about to question it. It was bad enough that the two of you were barely able to talk and your texts were hours apart sometimes, so he was absolutely taking advantage of what the world was so graciously giving him.

The entire time you were with him, you felt light. There wasn’t any form of tension in the air, no odd weight on your shoulders. To your knowledge, Kuroo felt the same, or at least, he certainly looked like he did. You were so happy to finally see him again, and it couldn’t have come at a better time. Your week had been long and you had been meaning to ask if he’d want to meet up for the last month and now here he was, right in front of you, talking to you. It almost made you feel like a little girl with her first crush, and you weren’t too far off. In such a short amount of time, you were absolutely head over heels for him.

Unfortunately, the time came for the two of you to say goodbye to each other. You saw him off before he left, bringing coffee and a breakfast pastry to him for the trip back. Neither of you wanted him to leave, but he had to.

From then on, the universe seemed to try making it easier for you two to talk, text, and occasionally see each other. In the span of another four months, you were able to see him another two times and now he was asking if you’d come to Tokyo for an upcoming tournament.

The butterflies in your stomach were intense. They almost always were when you were able to go see him, or he was coming to you, but this time was different. You weren’t sure how or why, but it was definitely different. Regardless, you couldn’t help your obvious excitement.

Everything felt similarly to the last tournament, the one that you met him at, though the biggest difference is that this time, not only were you not going just to go, but you were able to wish your favorite captain good luck before the start. You noticed that this time, Kuroo seemed a bit more hyped up than last time, and you couldn't help but wonder if you were the cause.

Much like the first time Kuroo had seen you, between almost every set, Kuroo’s eyes would look to you in the crowd and every time he found you, your eyes met. It wasn’t much of a shock, though; your eyes hadn’t left him nearly the entire game, aside from a few close calls in the game. From up in the stands, you couldn’t help but admire him out on the court; all of Kuroo’s strength and determination, and the obvious love he had for both the game and his teammates was incredible to see, part of you was wishing that the current game would never end just so you could keep watching him do what he loved. Of course, with that thought, you also had to admit to yourself that you were stalling a little. You were anxious to find out why today felt so different compared to any other day that you saw him, but luckily for you, it seemed like the game was wrapping itself up once and for all.

Once the match was officially done, you were one of the first people to leave the stands, excited to, hopefully, be one of the first people to congratulate the team, especially Kuroo, on their win.

As soon as you had gotten towards the front doors, the boys were on their way there themselves, all of them exhausted, but clearly amped up from their win. Upon seeing you at the door, Kuroo’s victorious smirk turned itself into a wide grin, seeing his favorite girl right in front of him.

“Tetsurou!” Your voice sounding off against the surrounding noise made his smile bigger as you began to move, meeting him halfway and stepping comfortably into his open and waiting arms. “I’m so proud of you!” You paused for a moment, stepping on your toes slightly to look over his shoulder better. “You guys too! You were all so incredible!” Their thanks was heard, but you were already back to being shoved up against Nekoma’s captain for it to register in your head.

“Thanks, (Y/N)!” Kuroo smiled down at you, though you could tell that there was a hint of nervousness in his eyes, which was odd and out of place for a number of reasons. “How long are you going to be here?”

“A few days, nothing too major. Even though they’ve met you, my parents aren’t really all that big on me staying a full week here, ha ha. It’s honestly a miracle they’re letting me be here for a few days on my own.” The two of you shared a small laugh over it, because you were absolutely lucky, but so was he. Kuroo knew he needed to make his move. “Any reason why?”

“Yeah, actually. Um, I know I haven’t known you too long, a bit under a year, really,” you couldn’t help smiling slightly at the rare sight of a nervous Kuroo. It was something you’d probably not see again for awhile. “And it might be a bit difficult because of the distance and all, but I was wondering if you’d possibly want to go on a date with me, and if you had fun, would you want to be my girlfriend?”

The grin that had made a place for itself on your lips was practically infectious as you tightened your grip on him. “Of course! Hell, you don’t even have to wait for the end of the first date, I’d gladly be your girlfriend, Tetsurou.”

Hugging you back once again, Kuroo pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. Though the captain was a man of science, he couldn’t help but think that maybe love at first sight was actually real.

#haikyuu request #haikyuu scenario #haikyuu drabbles #kuroo #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo tetsurou x reader #fluff!

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nataliedanovelist · 4 years ago

Text

GF - Jolly Sailor Bold

(Spoiler alert: I lied about the “jolly” part.)

Word count: 1431

~~~~~~~~~~

Stan walked into the town that was much bigger than it was when he first came forty-five years ago. It wasn’t that far of a walk and Sixer had always encouraged exercise, though most people would be opposed to a seventy-two-year-old man walking in woods filled with gnomes, tree-giants, Mantours, and Hawktopuses that could attack. But not every old man could still kick butt like Stan could, so he emerged from the trees sharing his name and joined the sidewalk.

First thing he noticed was a small pine tree outside of town, a bit wilted and weak, a sad excuse for a twig with pointy green leaves. Stan caught sight of an abandoned cup of water, smiled cunningly, and tipped the water over with the end of his eight-ball cane; he didn’t really depend on aid for walking, but it was good to have just in case. Before Stan could think to pick up the litter, a gnome scurried over, pick it up, hissed, and ran back into the woods. The old sailor shrugged, his long gray hair shifting at the movement, and he continued on his tiny journey.

At the grocery store, Stan used a small cart for his trip, tucking his cane in it, and wandering for what he needed. He can remember the first time he met Gideon, in this very store, a spoiled baby screaming and kicking for candy he had dropped, but Stan had picked it up and eaten it right in front of the twerp, being the first person in Gideon’s life to tell him “no”. Today was entirely different.

Stan first noticed an old couple his age, bitter and annoyed. The husband had mumbled, “Back in my day, y’all got a good beatin’ for actin’ like that.” Stan then heard the distant crying, and coincidentally, as he walked in his desired direction, he unintentionally came across the crying child.

With his recent years with toddlers and young kids, Stan had learned the difference between an angry scream from a grumpy toddler and a woeful cry from a sad young heart; this was the latter. A young mom with frazzled hair, who looked far too stretched, was rubbing the back of a three-year-old boy, who held a stuffed soldier that somewhat resembled him. Stan sighed, understanding, as he remembered the war going on in China, and reached into the pocket of his trenchcoat.

The tiny boy hiccuped in surprise by the music. His mother turned and saw an old man approach, playing a harmonica with warm brown eyes. She smiled as her son’s crying slowly went away, until all he could do was sniffle with a runny nose.

Stan made his old knees bend so he could be eye-level with the tyke, playing the old lullaby his Ma used to sing forever ago, and he stretched the last note to make the good times stick around. There was a moment of silence, but then the three-year-old grinned, clapped, and caught sight of some long hair over Stan’s shoulder and grabbed the tugged. Stan yelped comedically, making the boy laugh, and his mother squeezed Stan’s shoulder and thanked him before they parted ways.

In order to get home, Stan had to pass a park they had built ten years ago or so, while he was out sailing. It was nice, with a play area and a big field for soccer and football, and it was surrounded by shops and businesses to make it convenient. When Stan was going to the grocery store, the park had been empty, but now a small band of boys were playing soccer, so he paused to watch them for a second. As these games usually go, the ball was getting closer and closer to a goal, and one kid, whose friends were cheering him on excitedly, gave a powerful kick for the point. Unfortunately it was too powerful and too crooked, and it missed the goal entirely and smashed a window of the shop Stan stood nearby.

“HEY!”

Stan laughed and shook his head as the boys were still with fear. “Y’know, a responsible adult would tell ya to own up to whatcha did.”

The door of the tattoo shop flew open with a bang and a huge buff man with skulls all over his body roared, “WHEN I’M DONE WITH YOU BRATS, THE WINDOW WON’T BE THE ONLY THING THAT’S BROKEN!”

“But not me.” Stan added. “SCATTER!”

They all ran in different directions, Stan going down the sidewalk, closer to the edge of town; all those years of being chased by cops or freaking stuff really paid off sometimes. The old man stopped at a park bench in an alley to rest, huffing and puffing and setting his grocery bag down next to him. He had his eyes closed for a second when he heard a painfully familiar phrase.

“Gimme all your money.”

Stan opened his eyes calmly and looked to his left, deeper into the alley, and saw a skinny guy in all black pointing a gun at him. He should be scared, or at least anxious, but one look at the guy’s awful stance destroyed any fear Stan should have felt. He smiled, stood slowly, and asked like he was talking to an old friend. “What in Moses’ name are ya doin’?”

“Mugging you, duh.” The guy snapped.

“With that stance, kid?” He asked, scratching his red beanie-covered head.

“Wh- Just gimme your money, old man!”

“Bad roots make a bad tree, pal.” Quicker than the young man could register, Stan swooped down and used his eight-ball cane to sweep the robber off his feet and stole his gun, leaving the criminal in the mud to watch the ex-criminal drop the bullets with a twirl of the gun.

To the robber’s surprise, Stan held out a hand to him. He took it shamefully, and was even more surprised when Stan was helping him reposition himself. “With a solid stance, you’re a much better threat… wait, move your… there we go! Much better!” Stan held his square, wrinkly chin, and added, “Uh, no offense, but ya don’t look like the criminal type to me.”

“I… you… I…” The young man slumped and closed his eyes, ready to bolt for it, but Stan popped open a can of Pitt and held it out to him.

A few minutes go by and the two are sitting on the bench, sipping the drinks from Stan’s grocery bag, talking about life and women and goals. Stan did a lot of listening and used his experience to lend some much needed advice, sounding like an average joe and therefore easier to relate to and listen to.

“Hey… thanks.” The young man said when he stood up after an hour of talking.

Stan shrugged. “Some wise old man once said that it’s okay to accept help here and there, cuz it’s not often offered, but we need to fix that.”

The now ex-criminal raised an eyebrow with a smile. “Are you that wise old man?”

Stan gave him a sly look. “That’s a secret, kid.”

Eventually Stan did make it back to the Stan O’ War II, docked at the Gravity Falls lake, giving him a homey place with space but also easy company. Soos, Melody, and Jacob were only a twenty minute walk away and always checked on him. He stepped onto his boat with ease, a bit disturbed at how quiet it was here, but he’d fixed that soon.

Stan turned on the lights and sat his bag on the kitchen table. He pulled out a small half-chocolate, half-strawberry cake, opened it, pulled out two candles, got the lighter from his pocket, and lit the twin candles. He then looked at the wall that faced him, his eyes meeting another pair of eyes that matched his own. Stan made his aching body move to take the framed photograph off the wall and set it on the table, next to the cake.

“Happy Birthday, Sixer.” He croaked when he sat back down, his vision becoming blurry. “Why couldn't I’ve helped ya one last time…”

Stan squeezed his eyes shut in a sad attempt to make the tears go away, but it didn’t work. He pulled out his harmonica again and began to play the old lullaby, wondering if his brother could hear or care or even remember the words their Ma used to sing to them.

“Waves coming, The tide is high, As well as the sparkling moon, Matching the stars.

Little sailor bold, Oh, come with me, Brave sailor bold. Come sailing home.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Jacob belongs to @stephreynaart.

#gravity falls #fanfiction #grunkle stan #angst #nothing but angst #stangst #atla #alta reference

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aliendes · 4 years ago

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Natural Borns - Chapter Ten

Banner by @thebannershop

Series info/genre: Angst, fluff, smut (NSFW)

Pairings: ot7 x fem reader (eventual)

Warnings: crying, shitty medical descriptions (probably), depression, cursing, anxiety, forced medical practices, restraints, alcohol consumption

Description: In the year 2613, over half of the world’s population are what scientists consider ‘designer babies’. YN is a small town girl who is a true natural born, someone born naturally without he help of a lab or gene splicing. Her DNA is greatly sought after, but what is she willing to do to protect it?

Word count: 4k~

A/N: I’m sorry, this is unedited.

“I’ll be back in a few hours for your next round, dear,” Soomin says as she finishes up with your leg and leaves you. You lay flat on your back, staring at the ceiling with no emotion in your eyes, but oceans of tears falling from them. You let your eyelids slip shut after a few minutes, but you’re never able to fully fall asleep.

Soomin kept her promise and ended up coming back a few hours later. That visit was no better than the first you experienced, having been connected to those damned straps. After her second attack on your body, which you idly think isn’t technically her fault, she removed your hands from the restraints, telling you someone would be by in the morning to bring you in for ‘testing’. Her words were ominous, and while you really wanted to ask her to elaborate, you decided it would probably be better for your psyche if you didn’t know.

She had allowed you to change into a white sweatshirt and sweatpants, but wouldn’t leave the room for you to do so. Once again, for the nth time since you arrived here, you felt stripped of your basic human rights. This is how things are here, you suppose. You felt like they must be trying to break you. You wanted to be strong, but it was hard. You wanted to hold on to the fact that the boys were safe, presumably. At least they weren’t here, and that was a significant win in your mind.

Soomin left a few hours ago, and now you were curled up in a small ball on the too small bed in the too cramped white room. White. You remember your mom telling you when you were young that white was the color of purity, the color of peace. The doves you would see at the farmer’s market on the weekends were white, and you loved to stare at them while they pecked at the ground. The memory makes an involuntary tear slip out of your eye.

Now, white was all you could see. It definitely wasn’t bringing you any peace, and purity? You internally scoff as another tear falls. You haven’t even been here a full twenty four hours, yet you feel like any purity you did have left in you is about to be torn away without your permission. You feel cold, empty, used. You shudder to think about how much more they were going to take from you in here.

You sniffle, bringing a hand up to swipe at the tears falling across your cheeks. It’s no use, as more just seem to be slipping out. Pursing your lips, you squeeze your eyes shut tightly. What were you supposed to do, other than submit and let them take from you? If you had any hope of getting out of here with your sanity intact, you figure you have no other option than to let whatever is going to happen to you, happen. Your lip trembles as a silent sob wracks your body.

Your entire life has been a lie, at least, that’s the way it’s feeling to you right now. You feel like cattle, raised and cared for, only to be sold and shipped off to the slaughter house where you’d meet your demise. Killed, packaged, and consumed. A sick metaphor, but it felt fitting.

You try to take a deep breath, but it ends up being a shaky inhale, unable to get your breathing under control fully. You have no idea how long you lay like that, sobbing to no one, trapped in a prison of your own thoughts.

The sleep that your body eventually succumbs to is fitful at best, and all you dream about is manic faces, all closing in on you like a caged animal. Hands reaching out to grab you, touch you, take from you.

“Thanks for staying up for us.”

“Of course, Namjoon,” the burly man, known as Wonho replies easily as he holds open the large steel door, “anything for our precious leader.” Namjoon could hear the playful lilt to Wonho’s voice, so he let the comment slide with only a nod in response. He wasn’t in the mood for jokes, and Wonho seemed to get the picture when the purple haired man shouldered past him into the building. The smirk was wiped from Wonho’s face as he watched the six other men walk past him, varying expressions of exhaustion and pain written across their faces.

The seven had traveled from the forest through the bustling city of Seoul. After hearing from Yeonjun that you were indeed being held at the Big Hit facility, Namjoon made a call to Wonho, a natural born who owned an underground casino in the heart of Seoul. It was an illegal operation, but brought in a lot of money to help their shared cause, their shared vision of attaining equality within this fucked society.

Wonho had agreed, of course, to let them stay at the casino. There were extra rooms that his associates rented out, and most of them were vacant at the moment. The young entrepreneur was one of Namjoon’s only friends from middle school and they had reconnected after Namjoon’s escape from the facility when they met at a homeless shelter. Coincidentally, the same homeless shelter Namjoon and Yoongi would meet Seokjin and Jungkook later.

It took the group all day and well into the night to arrive at the rundown building, as it was nearing two in the morning at this point. They were all exhausted, sweaty, and for lack of a better word, broken.

The seven of them shuffled down the dark hallways, mostly shielded from the noises of the casino underneath them. It was housed in an old decrepit building that used to be a cafe once upon a time. Now, Wonho had refurbished the inside well enough to resemble somewhat of a home, with two stories of rooms, a kitchenette, and a small den. The outside was still old and rundown looking, to deter authorities or everyday normal people from investigating.

A side entry door to the building led to a basement, and a series of underground hallways that housed game rooms and offices, which is where Wonho spent most of his time, managing the casino and other dealings. Tonight, though, his associates were taking care of business so he could wait for Namjoon and his crew.

Namjoon reached the door leading to what he knew was the den located on the first floor of the building, waiting for Wonho to catch up to him. The others huddled in the small space, none of them looking at each other, actively trying to avoid any kind of eye contact.

“Three rooms upstairs are empty,” Wonho huffs out as he reaches the others, eyes on their leader, “but I think you and I should have a talk.”

Namjoon gives his friend a curt nod, before turning his attention to the others. None of them look up at him, eyes trained on the floor or the wall in front of them. Another piece of his heart cracks at the sight, “You guys head up, I’ll be there shortly.” Yoongi is the only one who meets his eye, albeit briefly, giving a short nod before turning on his heel, grabbing Hoseok by the sleeve and moving towards the stairs.

Namjoon watches as they all shuffle up the stairs slowly, clutching onto one another in support, in exhaustion or hurt, he wasn’t sure. Once they all disappeared from his sight, he turned his attention back to the platinum haired man in front of him. “After you.”

Wonho surveys Namjoon for a moment. He looks different, older, even though it’s only been a few months since they last saw each other. Wonho isn’t privy to all the inner workings of their group dynamics, but he does know how strongly he cares for his friends. He had also heard about you, how could he have not? You were all Namjoon talked about when he did call, or when they had meetings. The natural born girl, the rare woman who had no idea exactly how precious she was.

Wonho wasn’t one of the ‘special’ ones, no, just a normal natural born. He had to face his own discriminations throughout his life, but nothing like what Namjoon or the others had gone through. He wasn’t about to pretend like he knew how Namjoon felt, he wasn’t going to act like he understood. He did, however, believe in what Namjoon stood for - equality. That’s what everyone in their secret group wanted. That shared belief was what brought them all together in the first place. What formed the Allegiance, a group of natural borns and designer babies who fought for the rights of natural borns.

“Haven’t seen you in a while, Joon,” Wonho started as he walked through the door to the den, heading straight for the small bar, “wouldn’t hurt to check-in every now and then, you know?”

Namjoon follows towards the bar, watching as his old friend grabs two small glasses and a bottle of dark liquor. “We speak at least once a week, Seok.”

Wonho raises a brow at the nickname, “You know I don’t go by that anymore.”

Namjoon smirks, “No one’s here, Seok-ie. Besides, I never really liked Wonho.”

The blonde purses his lips but continues to pour the drinks, passing the glass across the bar top when he finishes. “Tell me about her.”

Namjoon perks up at the mention of you, but doesn’t meet Wonho’s eye, instead taking the glass and swirling the liquid around in it. “Not much to tell,” he starts, taking a swig of the alcohol and wincing from the burn, “didn’t really have much time to get to know her.”

Wonho watches as his friend takes another sip of his drink, swirling his own glass in his hand. His knowing eyes never leave Namjoon’s form, surveying the man from top to bottom. He looked tired, and not just physically tired. Wonho could see the exhaustion in his face, in his eyes. Namjoon used to have some of the most expressive eyes, an emotive face, but with age and experience, his features have become sharper, more defined, and more empty.

“You’ll get her back,” Wonho muses, bringing his glass up to his lips finally and taking a quick drink, used to the harsh flavour of the liquor, “Yeonjun-ie is in there with her, yeah?”

The purple haired man nodded solemnly, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth. “Yeah,” he drawled, thinking of the right words to say. He looks up at Wonho and then takes a quick look around the room, eyeing the door to make sure it’s closed and there are no listening ears. “We don’t have much time, Seok-ie,” Wonho winces at the name, but nods along anyways, “Yeonjun told me what they’re planning, what they- they’re going to do to her.” Namjoon sets his glass down on the bar, elbows resting on the cool wood and rubs a hand down his face. He shakes his head before looking back up at his friend.

Wonho looks conflicted. He knows that Namjoon is an empath by nature, a martyr by choice, and a leader by force. He understands that Namjoon will put anyone before himself, and cares deeply for those, who in his eyes, he wants to save from the horrors of the world. Wonho knows the other man will do whatever it takes to get you back, and so there is no use trying to talk him out of it, no matter how bad of an idea he thinks it is. They barely know you, Wonho knows he wouldn’t risk himself and his closest friends, family even, for a girl who probably doesn’t care about them either way. But he’s not going to push, he knows where that’ll get him.

“Joon,” Wonho starts, setting his glass down and walking around the bar to place a comforting hand on Namjoon’s shoulder, “you guys can stay here however long you need. I’m here for you, man. You know that.”

Namjoon nods to his friend, eyes still trained on the bar top, “Thanks, Seok.”

Upstairs, the others have split up between the three available rooms, Jungkook and Jin in their own room, Hoseok, Jimin, Tae in another, while Yoongi waits in the third for Namjoon. Most of them have showered and replaced their dirty, wet clothes with extras from the wardrobe in Namjoon and Yoongi’s room, a culmination of left-over clothes from Wonho’s employees or ex-lovers, they assume.

Jimin and Tae were the last to shower, letting the others wash the day away first, allowing Jin and Jungkook to get settled so they could have their private conversations, their private moment with each other, the others knew they needed it.

Jimin stepped out of the shower and was immediately handed a towel by a dripping wet Taehyung, to which he gave the younger a sad smile. The two stood in a comfortable silence, towelling off their wet locks.

Taehyung was facing away from Jimin, staring at the wooden door that led out to the hallway, lost in his thoughts, when Jimin finished drying off. He stepped up behind the taller boy, wrapping his short arms around Tae’s middle. Both of them were still only wrapped in towels, not yet having gone to find clothes. Jimin’s firm chest pressed up against Taehyung’s slimmer frame, making the younger shiver.

“What’s on your mind, Taehyung-ie?”

Taehyung sniffles, making Jimin panic and move around him to get a better look at his face. Jimin’s emotive eyes search Taehyung’s brown orbs, looking for any sign of hurt, or pain, that he could help ease.

“I don’t even know her, Jimin-ie,” he clears his throat, a sore attempt and biting back the tears that threaten to fall, “b-but I feel so terrible.” Taehyung brings his hands up to his eyes, pushing the heel of his hands into his eye socket, willing away the onslaught of tears.

“Shh,” Jimin shushes his other half, wrapping both arms around his center and bringing him closer to his chest. Despite the height difference, Taehyung always felt small in Jimin’s arms. He wasn’t sure what to say to the tall boy right now. He was there in the facility with him, knew what he had gone through, watched with his own two eyes what those people are capable of.

The two of them have been best friends since middle school, having grown up in the same neighborhood, and have been inseparable ever since. Their likeness and similar genes had dubbed them ‘the twins’ since a young age, and they sometimes really did feel that way.

Jimin has always been the tougher one, the one to stand up in the face of prejudice, protecting his other half. Taehyung has always been the softer of the two, more trusting, sometimes to a fault. He was always the sweet one, the first one to make friends. They worked well together, and made up for where the other lacked. They made a perfect team, so it only made sense when they first confessed to the other.

That was over six years ago now, before they were found by Big Hit, before they learned the reality that is their DNA. The pair attended university together in their hometown, never suspecting they were any different from their natural born peers, until one day a representative from Big Hit approached them on campus, offering them a life of luxury. They were tricked into believing that if they sold their DNA, they would become rich. They could pay off their school debts, move away and buy a house, have the life they always dreamed of. It was appealing to them at the time, and only being twenty one years old, they fell for it.

They had been promised room and board and compensation for their time, which was initially only supposed to be three months. Once they left school and arrived in Seoul, they realized they were in over their heads. The first couple of months was decent enough. They shared a small, yet comfortable, room at the facility. They had access to a gym, a pool, and a rec room. They just had to make themselves available during the day for testing, and were fed a specific diet and mostly vegetable and protein to keep them healthy. It didn’t seem like such a bad tradeoff.

That was until their three month contract ended, and they were given an ultimatum: comply, and get to stay together, or try to leave and fight back, and they would be separated. Jimin was initially very combative, and did everything in his power to put a stop to it, but soon realized he cared more about Taehyung than he did his own freedom, so he eventually submitted to the doctors and scientists, and was allowed to keep living in his cramped room with his boyfriend.

The testing continued on both of them for about a year, until they realized that Taehyung was different. His DNA was more special, more in demand, than Jimin’s, and so they kicked Jimin out of the facility. He ended up living on the streets, only to be found and pulled back to Big Hit three months later after Taehyung suffered a mental break because of his boyfriend’s absence. And so, Jimin and Taehyung lived at the facility together for the last three years on and off.

While Jimin was absent, Taehyung had met Hoseok, another resident of Big Hit, and Hoseok fell for the young man, doing his best to protect him in his lover’s absence. When Jimin returned, the three of them ended up becoming inseparable, until Hoseok’s eventual release, and subsequent meeting with Namjoon which led to the twins' first breakout.

“Come, baby,” Jimin whispered to his boyfriend, pulling at his hand and leading him out of the bathroom. They made the short trip down the hallway to the room they had settled in with Hoseok. Said man was already waiting for them sitting on the edge of the bed, fresh clothes in a pile behind him.

When the younger two entered the room, Hoseok immediately stood from the bed and made his way towards the sniffling Taehyung. Jimin still had one arm around the boy, both naked save for the white towels wrapped around their waists. Hoseok reached out for both men, one hand on each of their hips as he led both of them towards the bed. Jimin left Tae’s side for a moment, grabbing the clothes and dressing quickly before handing over the soft t-shirt and boxers to Taehyung.

“T-thanks,” Tae muttered, keeping his eyes trained down, not wanting to see the worry etched across either of his lovers’ faces.

“What’s going on, Tae Tae?” Hoseok asked gently, not wanting to push the younger.

Jimin sat on the bed and scooted back so Taehyung could sit in front of him. Hoseok brought one leg up onto the mattress, turning his entire body towards Tae, giving him his full attention. The two on the bed watched as their once blue haired lover dressed and sat down with them.

“I- I don’t know, Hobi,” he squeaked out, rubbing a large hand over his entire face before letting both arms fall beside him, exasperated.

Jimin scooched towards him, wrapping his legs around him and kissing his shoulder, “It’s okay, Tae,” he whispered against his skin, “I know what you mean. We might not know her, but it’s obviously affecting Jin and Kookie, maybe even Yoongi. And I know you don’t want to talk about it, but you have more knowledge about what goes on in there than any of us.”

Hoseok nods along with Jimin’s words, knowing Tae has been very private about the things that happened to him behind closed doors at the facility. Even though both Jimin and Hoseok were with him in there, at least for some of the time, he never gave them details about what exactly happened to him and was only vague in his explanations. Jimin wishes that he would talk to him, but understands that he doesn’t want to relieve the things that were done to him. He’s witnessed his nightmares enough times to know it’s not worth it.

Hoseok brings a hand up to rub at Taehyung’s back, his shirt slightly wet and sticking to his broad shoulders. His eyes soften as he watches the youngest in the room bring his knees up to his chest and hug tightly, laying his head on the top of his knees. “This is silly,” he scoffs, “I don’t even know her.”

“Hey, don’t do that,” Hoseok starts, a frown marring his handsome face. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to finish his thought as risk of upsetting Taehyung even more, but decided to voice his thoughts after a look shared with Jimin, “Just because you don’t know her, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t care. Sh-she seems like a sweet girl, genuine. Jungkook and Seokjin really took a liking to her,” he bit his lip when Tae looked up at him through wet lashes, “and anyone who can make Yoongi think twice must be a keeper, right?” He tried to lighten the mood with his joke, but Taehyung’s frown only deepened.

It was Jimin who broke the silence next, “We will get her back, Tae, and then we’ll get to know her alongside the other guys. I know you guys didn’t have much time with her, but it seems like she’s got most of you wrapped around her finger.” Jimin smirks at the older man next to him, bumping his shoulder against his.

Hoseok smiles lightly, but it quickly turns into a lopsided frown at the reminder. He’s really the only one who hasn’t spoken to you in length. The most he ever spoke to you was when he woke you up last night. It felt like a lifetime ago already, even though it’s only been twenty four hours. Would he ever get a chance to know you better? He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the thought, if not for himself, then for the others. He can’t deny the weird feeling he gets in his gut when he thinks about you, and he’s certain the others have a similar feeling if the soft eyes Yoongi gave you was any indication.

“How do you know?” Tae asked in a quiet voice, looking up at his hyung.

“Hmm?” Hoseok snaps his attention back to the younger, reminded of where he was, “How do I know what?”

“You said she’s a keeper.”

“O-oh. Well,” Hoseok started, pursing his lips as he thought carefully about his next words, “to be honest, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Jungkook-ie so heartbroken. He’s obviously really affected by this, and you know him. He doesn’t warm up to people very quickly, so for him to be this torn up is really telling of his feelings. Jin-hyung, too.”

Taehyung and Jimin nod along with Hoseok’s words, having seen the duo earlier, any attempts at comforting them had been brushed off, the two only seeking out the other. They saw it, they saw the way the others seem to break at the thought of you being at Big Hit. They could tell you were something special, and Jimin was determined to make sure he got to learn first hand what exactly it was that made you so special to the others.

“We’re going to figure this out,” Jimin says to the others, to which Hoseok nods, “and you’re gonna help, right Tae Tae?”

Taehyung perks up, turning around to look at the blonde behind him, “Of course I will.”

Jimin gives him a soft smile, as Hoseok continues rubbing at his back and shoulders. “Let’s get to bed, hm?” Hoseok asks, standing up and gesturing towards the headboard. Both men nod, moving to get up as well.

Once the three of them are safely under the covers, Taehyung sandwiched between the other two, Jimin presses a kiss to the back of Tae’s head. Hoseok leans in and does the same to Tae’s cheek, making the youngest smile softly. “Goodnight, Tae.”

The younger two fall asleep rather quickly, having been spent from hiking all the way into town, but what Hoseok wouldn’t tell them is that he laid in bed until the early hours of the morning, listening to the soft sobs of Jungkook next door.

To be continued...

taglist: @mrsstilinski96 @sammiilynn10192 @minifruity @mrcleanheichou @arantxaglz @chim-possible @kooksremedy @irishhbamb @sugashaye @lovelyseomin @strawberrygatorade @kookiebbyxx @itneverends15713

#bts x reader #poly bts #bts angst #bts fluff #bts smut

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honeydots · 5 years ago

Note

190?

“I think I may be slightly more drunk than I thought”

Summary: Goro winds up having more to drink than he planned, and who else to find him on his drunk walk home than his soon-to-be-assassinated rival.

cw: underage drinking, minor blood mention

(ao3 link)

The smell of wine was always too thick for Goro’s tastes.

He dreaded to hear the hollow sound of the cork popping, and the clink of glass-on-glass as each man drank to their hearty victories.

It wasn’t uncommon that alcohol was served at these sorts of things, with Shido’s colleagues and their celebratory get-togethers. He would always be expected to attend, but not for long. Just enough time for his presence to be known, so that he could come and go without becoming the prudish center of conversation.

He knew they spoke about him while he wasn’t around, and that was unavoidable. These little events were the best way to control their conversations from afar. Leave them with more answers than questions and with casual suspicions, not deadly ones.

Come in, speak in pretty sentences, have a glass of wine, and leave.

He knew better than to reject drinking. Or rather, he knew better than to reject drinking with this crowd. Some men would come in and make a show of Goro’s being a minor, as if their own morals wouldn’t allow it. Laugh along with their drunkards, and let Goro remain blissfully sober.

Though others, and these were usually the important ones, didn’t care. Goro was to politely accept their offer, and to drink not all but most of his glass. Don’t appear eager, but don’t appear sheepish. Drink to another successful success, another voter turnout, another hit.

He’d always think too hard about these nights. Figuratively, wine was the blood of Jesus, drunk to remind Christians of the sins that he died for. Goro wondered how figurative his glass was now. Tonight, they were toasting to blood soon to be spilled; it was practically in their glasses.

Goro certainly wasn’t Christian. It was useless to think of wine as anything more than grapes.

But sometimes he’d imagine watching the men pour their glasses and take a sip, only to discover the salty allure of blood washing into their mouths. Watch them wretch and choke, spit out their consequences onto the ground. A literal taste of their medicine.

Goro would time himself to his drink. He could even call it a game. Full meant to begin his charming conversations, to grit his teeth and bear through the night. Quarter gone often went by largely unnoticed. If he wasn’t speaking to someone while he was a quarter gone, then he’d done something wrong. He was supposed to be sociable and he’d best act like it.

Half was a tedious measurement. By half, he needed to wrap up any of his quarter chatters and then stand aloof to the side. Allow himself to be open to any quieter, private talks. He’d wait to be approached, while keeping a watchful eye on the atmosphere.

Half could also mean he needed to join into whatever room encompassing conversations that he hadn’t been a part of. Even if it was to simply nod along to whatever nonsense the guests were spouting. It was important to be involved in the key factor.

The last stage, and often the most delicate, was three quarters. At this point, he needed to wedge himself into whatever group he could. To act terribly interested and, when appropriate, deem it the time he must be getting home—he was a working student, after all. He would give his goodbyes, relinquish his glass, and walk home, chewing breath mints like tobacco.

But this was a delicate stage because, on days like today, there would be the option of a refill. Some guest with intentions would see his glass half empty, and offer to fill it again. Never enough wine (he wondered if blood was applicable here, too) for a young man like him.

Depending on the party, Goro would reject it. He could even use this method as a way home—saying he’d had enough, and should be going anyway.

But it was different tonight. The man who he’d managed to dive into conversation with was new and important. The founder of a law firm who’d recently begun business with Shido. He’d grown relevant quickly, and this was the first chance Goro had to make an impression on him.

Two glasses isn’t too much.

Goro didn’t care about this man whatsoever, in actuality. As relevant as pond scum in the grand scheme of things. But favors went miles in this business, and keeping his head on his shoulders was more than worth a glass of wine.

And so he went from three quarters, to full, to half, to empty.

An empty glass was a last resort exit, but it was the most effective against the threat of another refill. He’d stayed too long now. He excused himself, definitely, content with his seamless image he’d left with the man.

It was when he stepped outside, into cool air and away from the bustle and buzz, that his decision came back for its vengeance.

He wasn’t exactly dizzy, but he wouldn’t call himself clearheaded. Disoriented, maybe. His face felt a little flushed. He tried to take deep breaths, keep oxygen going to his brain, let himself calm down. Maybe he was just a bit too excited. He faced forward, focused, and walked. Straight lines, straight back. He would be fine—he only had a little more than usual tonight.

Though, it wasn’t long until he ducked into an alleyway to collect himself.

Shit, he thought, dropping his briefcase onto the ground. He squeezed his eyes shut and then opened them again, trying to get himself to focus.

It didn’t work. He felt groggy.

I think I may be slightly more drunk than I thought.

This was ridiculous. He wasn’t some lightweight who couldn’t hold his alcohol. He’d drunk at least this much before, and he’d been perfectly capable of getting back to his apartment. What was different about today?

A displeased clench of his stomach reminded him he hadn’t eaten yet. No breakfast, a skipped lunch in favor of an interview, and wine for dinner.

So, that was it. He needed to eat something. Easy fix, probably. Something a bit hearty would be best, but he was sure he’d see effects even with a small snack.

He hardly felt comfortable going anywhere in the state he was in. God forbid someone he knew saw him, to say nothing of the media. But a dark alleyway on a Tokyo night wasn’t an ideal locale, either.

He considered going into the metaverse, just to get himself out of immediate danger and let the alcohol digest a bit. Let it settle. He could easily slip into Mementos and avoid the subway station. No food would await him there, but at least he wouldn’t be at risk of being seen.

It was dark enough no one would see him enter. He settled it—he’d go inside until he felt sober enough to walk home. Ideally, it would be a short visit. In and out quick enough that he’d still be able to catch the final train. He could excuse being out late with a case, if he was cornered.

He pulled out his phone and opened up the Nav. He was moments away from tapping “Mementos” on his recently visited, when a voice startled him away from the screen.

“Akechi?”

Goro whipped around (casually being an afterthought) and stood face to face with who, on a night like this, he’d call his judge, jury, and executioner.

“Akira-kun,” said Goro, immediately flipping his switch onto a sweeter and less completely deranged setting. “Now, to what do I owe the pleasure? Awfully late to be out, isn’t it?”

Obviously it had to have been Kurusu who’d decided to make himself known. Of all the nights to show his face. Shido’s event had just had Goro toasting to the predicted fall of the Phantom Thieves. A celebration of a plan being put flawlessly together, centering around Kurusu’s uncanny murder. His coincidental suicide.

Goro had hoped to return without even thinking about him, lest he risk himself getting distracted. His death was just business, and that’s how he needed to think of it. Keep Kurusu behind thick walls of paperwork, or as just another shadow in a crowd.

But instead, there he stood, making the aftertaste of the wine on his tongue turn bitter and guilty.

“I’m heading home,” Kurusu began, looking uncharacteristically bothered. He had a twinge more of a frown on his face, and his eyebrows were furrowed. It was hardly reassuring. “Are you… okay?”

Goro bit his tongue. Who else to notice his state of being completely not okay than Mr.Your-Problem-Is-My-Problem himself. Maybe Goro could amuse himself later, thinking about what Kurusu would do if he told him just what was going through his mind. How would he solve that problem?

“I’m feeling just fine, though thank you for asking. I’m heading home myself, so if you don’t mind,” Goro said, giving a polite half wave and trying to ignore how completely awkward this interaction had been. But two steps forward had him steadying himself on the wall, and Kurusu at his side.

At his side. He was touching him now. Holding him up. It suddenly felt like all too much. He jerked away, filling his head with a whole new kind of dizzy. He pressed his hands against his forehead, trying to steady his mind.

It was expected that Kurusu wouldn’t let that slide. He stood back, eyes wide.

“You’re not alright.”

Yes, that was clear now, wasn’t it? He felt lucky that drinking didn’t make him snappy.

Goro’s elongated silence didn’t seem to tickle Kurusu. It wasn’t like he was doing a fantastic job at pleasing Goro at the moment, either, so he let the pause hang.

Kurusu filled the quiet. “Are you… drunk?”

Goro could feel his edge falling. He would not lean into it. He put on a dazzling smile.

“Ah, Akira-kun, ‘drunk’ is such a crude term. There’s a better one—what was it? Maybe feeling a bit buzzed—”

“Did something happen?”

Kurusu’s gaze was very firm.

Goro didn’t hold it for long. He sighed and tried to relax his stance a bit.

“An interesting correlation you’ve just made, but no. Nothing has happened,” he started, folding his arms into himself. “But, I am more intoxicated than I’d preferably like to be, I’ll admit.”

The concern on Kurusu’s face was thoroughly unwelcomed.

“How much did you drink?”

He’d been hoping that Kurusu wouldn’t play the role of saint. The scrutiny of a worrywart was not the attention he was seeking.

Goro leaned (casually being a forethought, now) onto the wall of the alleyway. “Not enough to warrant your distress, Akira-kun. I simply haven’t eaten much today.” Kurusu’s frown grew deeper, and Goro thought to use it to his advantage. “If you’re so worried, though, perhaps you could get me a little pick-me-up from a convenience store.”

Goro’s stomach twisted, making him flinch and lose his balance. He scrambled to keep himself straight on the wall, the alcohol not helping him in the least. That was all the convincing Kurusu needed, much to Goro’s displeasure.

“You need to sit down somewhere,” Kususu said, annoyingly kindly keeping his hands off of him, but prepared to act as a brace. “We aren’t far from Leblanc. Sojiro already went home.”

“Now, I—” Goro began, but found himself feeling a bit undone by Kurusu’s ever present stare.

He weighed his options. He could shake Kurusu off and enter Mementos by himself, wait foodless for his mind to clear, risk falling asleep there and being late tomorrow and possibly stumbling into trouble.

Or, he could rest at LeBlanc for a while.

Kurusu always had such miserable timing.

Goro scrunched up his nose. “...Fine. If you’re willing to offer me your hospitality, I will take it,” he said.

Kurusu’s expression lightened enough to make Goro’s stomach feel bubbly. What a wretched effect he had on him. This was no time to be getting attached. Much more of this and something really would stick.

Goro straightened his tie, picked up his briefcase, and stood tall. He needed to clear his head somehow. Kurusu was simply his means. He was in an unideal situation that needed to be resolved, and nothing more.

He would not let it be more, two glasses be damned.

***

The train ride did nothing but make him feel worse. Drunk and hungry was a terrible combination. Each bump of the car made his stomach churn.

He hadn’t attracted much attention in the shabby railcar, which was lucky, other than the watchful eye Kurusu had been keeping on him. It was humiliating to have someone so nervous over his condition, and Goro wished his choices hadn’t been so black and white.

He was almost too attentive. Goro wouldn’t think about it.

When they’d arrived at the café, Kurusu’s word held true. It was scarce, no customers or owner. That, at least, was a relief.

There was a noise from the attic, and soon after trotted down Morgana. He stopped in his tracks halfway on the stairs, round eyes turning big upon seeing Goro.

“Akechi,” he said, turning his head to Kurusu. “What’s he doing here?”

Kurusu rubbed the back of his neck. “Could you give us a little time?”

Morgana looked between them again. Either Goro missed something, or Morgana accepted that for what it was, because he turned around and headed back upstairs without another word.

Goro sat in his usual spot, but didn’t feel very typical. He felt wrong just enough to know that he’d be here for a little while. It didn’t help that he was already getting tired.

Usually, alcohol’s one solace was that it made falling asleep come quickly. Now, as he fought his eyelids from betraying him tonight, he wished it’d do anything but.

“Is curry okay?” Kususu asked, already tying an apron around his waist.

Any food would do, really. Anything to help him sober up. “I was under the impression curry was about all you knew how to cook.”

Kurusu gave way his signature hint of a hint of a smile, and put himself to work. Goro leaned back in his chair and tried to just focus on his breathing. He should’ve said no to another glass of wine. Or even just snacked a bit at the event. Though he loathed eating in front of Shido and his colleagues, it would’ve saved his evening alone.

Goro watched Kurusu stir the warming pot of curry absentmindedly. The scent was endlessly better than the wine he’d been served. Savory smells of spices and meat. The hunger and the alcohol must’ve been getting to him, because he had to catch himself before he thought it felt homelike.

This was not a home. This was not his home.

Kurusu noticed Goro watching, but Goro was growing too tired to care. He needed to eat something before he thought something damaging. A wandering mind did him no good here.

It was very quiet in the café. Silence wasn’t uncommon between them, but it was rooted in tension. Goro didn’t trust himself much to speak first. He’d always been careful with his words, but the more his thoughts grew out of hand. the more likely he was to spill sensitive information; or say something too private to let anyone else hear.

Kurusu, on the other hand, was oddly talkative tonight.

“So, do you drink often?”

He was as difficult to read as ever. Goro didn’t know how much to attribute that to his current state of disheveledness, but Kurusu maintained his reputation.

“Not really, no,” Goro readjusted a bit in his seat, and looked down at his hands. “Tonight was… This isn’t a habit of mine.”

He did have the underlying concern that the more he did this, the more it might become a habit, if Shido’s example was anything to go by. He’d hate to have inherited anything from a dastardly man like him, but rancid alcoholism would feel like an all new low.

Kurusu remained stone faced. “I see,” he replied flatly.

“Might you be disappointed? I never would’ve taken you for the ‘party animal’ type, but perhaps you aided me for the sake of a connection?” Goro asked, and then immediately regretted not taking the chance to let their conversation die down. Drunk and tired was not a good mix for his big mouth, it seemed.

“I think I’ll survive,” Kurusu said, raising his eyebrows. He set the temperature lower on the burner and got out a plate. It seemed Goro’s meal was finished heating up. And thank god for that, because the hunger was really getting to him now and he was feeling much more miserable than he’d have preferred for a Thursday night.

Kurusu served his curry still steaming, and Goro dug in as calmly and controlled as he could manage, with a quick, “I appreciate it,” before taking his first bite.

He could tell he was being closely watched as he ate. Goro decided not to comment on it quite yet. Getting a little clue-in on Kurusu’s mind always proved interesting.

He mentally berraded himself for thinking that. It was thoughts like those that inclined him to keep his mouth shut. Something about his drowsiness was making him sentimental, and this clearly wasn’t the time.

“You think I’d only help you because I wanted something?”

Again, Kurusu was single handedly keeping their conversation alive. He usually required a bit more effort to pry into, and Goro positively knew why it was different tonight, but kept himself from thinking it.

Goro gave himself a performative moment to think of a reply. “Are you referring to my question earlier? Well, really, is that so odd? Such an intent is hardly uncommon,” he replied, and took another bite. He wanted to say he was sobering up, but so far the curry was only affecting his stomach, not his mind.

“So you think that’s my ‘intent,’ then.”

“Do I have a reason to think otherwise? You’ve set up your own sorts of deals within your friendships, haven’t you?” Goro began again, growing intrigued. “Kitagawa-kun makes you those cards, as one example. It’s only natural that we, as humans, have a give and take relationship with each other. Wouldn’t you agree?” Another bite.

Kurusu looked unimpressed. Goro always knew he’d get something interesting out of him when he wore that expression.

“You think so?”

He met his eyes solidly and smiled. “I do.”

There was a short silence. Goro haughtily scraped up a large spoonful of rice.

Kurusu caught him in a mouthful. “So, what are you giving me, then?”

Swallowing gave him a moment to think. Though it was time wasted, really, because it wasn’t some grandiose question. He hoped he hadn’t said that to sound smart, like some stumping finisher. But Kususu hardly failed to disappoint—so he kept his hopes up.

The back of his mind told him getting excited was the worst thing to do while trying to detach himself, but he buried the thought.

Just for now is fine.

He cleared his throat. Where was he?

“You don’t think I’ve held up my end of the bargain? I disagree. Let’s see,” Goro crossed his legs and brought a finger up to his chin. “I believe I’ve taught you some sleuthing techniques, haven’t I? Though, that was early on. I can see how you may not be satisfied. However, I have introduced you to quite a few hot spots, yes? And I’m aware of the effects that billiards and darts had on you.” He scooped another spoonful of curry, but finished his thought before he took his bite. “And, I certainly hope I’m not mistaken that our conversations have been gratifying for the both of us.”

“That’s what you call give-and-take?” Kurusu replied. Knowing him, though, it was less of a reply and more of a challenge. Goro had forgotten all about how badly he wanted to be in bed at home, now. He may have been tired, but this was a rivalry he intended to dominate. The tricks Kurusu had up his sleeve always proved entertaining.

“‘That’ is what I call ‘what I’ve given you.’ If you’d like my takeaway, well, let’s just say you’ve given me plenty to think about over the last few months.”

Kurusu leaned onto the counter. Goro appreciated the maintained distance, since he still wasn’t exactly in a sensory mood. The alcohol hadn’t left him yet. “You know, I can think of a better name for that.”

“Oh?” Goro said, “Can you?”

Kurusu almost smirked. “Silly little thing called friendship.”

Goro sighed, shaking his head. Perhaps he hadn’t picked up on what he’d been implying. Kurusu could win some and lose some. “Akira-kun, I’m not trying to argue that friendship is off the table. I simply think any relationship can be boiled down to the action of compromise.”

“And I’m trying to argue that I think that’s a shallow way of thinking,” Kurusu shot back.

Goro felt his jaw clench. “Your reasoning?” He presented the easiest smile he could muster.

Kurusu put himself back up at full height and slid his hands into his pockets. “A relationship doesn’t end once a standard has been met.”

Goro rolled his shoulders back. The high of debate was clearing his mind. He hardly noticed.

“Ah, but don’t you think another goal could be made? Or, even two or three? And, a connection doesn’t have to start with just one, you could have dozens of deals with a single person at a time,” he argued, feeling quite confident. “Have you heard of the Social Exchange Theory? It suggests that relationships are formed by maximizing benefits and minimizing drawbacks. In other words, what one gives to you is the defining factor, while you try to deplete what is taken.”

Kurusu seemed to consider that, but his pause gave way to Goro’s unfinished defense. “Let me give you an example: you and Sakamoto-kun are quite close, aren’t you? Is that not a result of both of you, mutually and continually, giving and taking from each other?” He continued, watching Kurusu quirk an eyebrow. “Perhaps Sakamoto is a carefree presence for you, and perhaps you offer him a place of security. But, as one would expect, each of you have flaws. Sakamoto can get rambunctious, and his actions have consequences that can rebound and affect you. That is a cost of his friendship. A give and take, even in non-physical terms.”

Goro took another bite of curry in anticipation of his response. It was already growing cold. At this point, Goro really didn’t think that the curry had helped him clear his mind at all— it was just their conversation in privacy that had given him a chance to focus.

Not that the effects of his drinking were completely gone. He was still very sleepy, and he knew he tended to ramble in exhaustion. Goro had done that here before, even. He needed to figure out a way to wrap this up soon, but. Kurusu wasn’t like the men around Shido. He enjoyed their talks. He didn’t have a glass of wine in hand telling him how much longer he needed to hold up.

It was only talking, between them.

He would power through it. He imagined that once he was up and walking around and heading back to the station, that he’d regain energy again. It was only the atmosphere that was making him so tired. He couldn’t possibly fuck up so poorly as to say something incriminating at a .06 blood alcohol content.

“Me accepting that my friends have flaws doesn’t take from me,” Kususu answered, giving Goro another chance to flex his argument.

“Then, shall I speak more literally? You often cook for your friends, don’t you? That taxes something directly from you, time and effort.” Goro put his spoon down entirely and leaned into their conversation. Kurusu wasn’t the kind of person that Goro felt he needed to chide, but a bit of teasing felt inevitable.

Kurusu replied straight away. “Me cooking for my friends isn’t the foundation of our relationships.”

“But, you have made deals in similar fashions, haven’t you? Would you really argue that none of your relationships were formed from a deal you made? You, of all people?”

He watched the reaction his spiel got from Kurusu. Hardly a twitch, but something had dug under his skin. Goro knew he was enjoying this as much as he was, and it almost wrenched out a grin from him.

Kurusu put a hand out of his pocket and propped himself up, leaning towards Goro on the counter. It closed the space between them further. They still weren’t touching, but his presence was on top of him. It felt close, and Goro had to fight moving away.

“I’ve made plenty of friendships through a give-and-take. But the idea that it’s the only way to view them is one-sided. You can say that it’s an exchange in hindsight, as an outsider, but I’m not thinking about what I get from people when I’m with them. I’m thinking about them, and that’s all.” Kurusu took his weight off the counter. “It’s material otherwise. Only thinking in wins and losses.”

Goro pinched the back of his arm habitually. He spoke a bit quieter. “So you think it can’t be effectively utilized?”

Kursu looked at him firmly. “I think it’s the wrong mindset to have.”

There was a short silence that hung. They stared at each other. Goro broke the contact, closing his eyes and resting back in his chair. He giggled.

“You never cease to entertain, Akira-kun. You really are interesting,” he sighed, trying to make it sound a bit wistful. “Would you tell me what led to such a thought process?”

Kurusu’s expression fell. It was quick, and barely noticeable, but he looked pained. Like what Goro had said had squeezed something hard, but disappeared just as fast.

He replied with his typical emotionless slate.

“There was something that changed.”

Goro tilted his head, and brought up a hand to rest it on. “That something being?”

He wondered what Kurusu might say. He didn’t want to get his hopes up. Perhaps a view in a palace, or a girlfriend, or some connection that would be ultimately meaningless to Goro, but something he still wanted to get his hands on.

Suddenly, his mind felt very present. He shouldn’t have thought that. He shouldn’t be doing this, he shouldn’t be asking this. Now was the time he was supposed to be creating a distance between them, not trying to open him up and solidify whatever makeshift acquaintanceship they’d developed. He was going to kill him in four days. Getting to know him better was supposed to have been a distant ‘what if.’ He shouldn’t feel so curious.

But Kurusu smirked and said, “A secret,” despite Goro’s dilemma.

“Ehh,” Goro complained, feeling both relieved and indescribably annoyed. “You won’t be giving me a ticket into the back of your mind tonight? After all that buildup?”

Kurusu laughed. “I’m sure you wouldn’t want to hear it.”

“Try me,” Goro said, and smiled wide. He ignored his itchy eyes telling him to go to sleep. And the pushing voices reminding him that he was setting himself up for more pain in the long run.

He knew that. He couldn’t help himself, though. He knew he’d get nothing out of this.

The realization made him gulp.

Kurusu eased up. “Maybe once you tell me why you’re ‘buzzed.’”

Goro wasn’t sure he could do much more to keep the conversation from ending. His little cycle of trying to make things as terrible as possible for his future self was going to come to an end. “I think I’ve been keeping up appearances very well.”

“You can’t fool me,” Kurusu replied, and grinned a very faint grin. He took off his apron. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom real quick.”

“Mm,” hummed Goro, and just like that, Kurusu disappeared from the conversation. Goro put his elbow onto the counter and propped his head up, leaning into his cheek. Their talks often ended in nowheres, neither of them giving up their stances. He tried to keep himself from thinking how nice it was to have such a conversation partner. Maybe it was the alcohol, and his growing drowsiness, but he couldn’t help himself.

Kurusu wasn’t his friend, but he could be. Could’ve been, was more accurate. He was digging himself into a hole, thinking this way. But he’d buried himself in something deeper a long time ago.

Goro’s eyes felt heavy. He thought to rest them, just for a moment, until Kurusu returned. Then he could say his goodbyes, their debate having come to an end. And he’d go home, and he’d feel a bit like he was rotting away, and he’d sleep through it anyway.

But for now, he was comfortable in a café, with low lights and a could’ve been just barely out of reach. He was a little undone, but that was just fine for now.

He closed his eyes and barely felt himself drift off.

***

Akira dug through one of his dusty boxes upstairs, while Morgana sat staring at him from his bed. He stuck his arm in deep, feeling around and checking colors and fabrics when he could pull something up for air.

“You two sure are chatty, huh,” Morgana remarked, flicking his tail back and forth.

Akira kept his nose in the box. He was almost positive he’d put it in here. Maybe it had gotten more buried than he thought.

“What’d you guys talk about?”

It didn’t take long to find his prize. It was a bit stuck in the middle, and he had to yank hard to free it from the mess of clothes. But as he pulled, the tension eased, and out popped his summer blanket. He threw it over his shoulder, and he heard Morgana jump down from the bed.

Akira got up and waited for him to join him.

“I’m not sure you’d be that interested.”

Morgana huffed. “You’re always talking about weird stuff.”

The two of them walked downstairs. Akira was trying to be quiet, skipping the second and notoriously squeaky stair, while also attempting to shake out the blanket a bit on his way down.

His silent mission must’ve proved successful, because Akechi was still laying down on the counter sound asleep, in the same position he’d left him. Akira watched his shoulders rise and fall a bit. He looked peaceful.

Akira spread out the blanket between his hands. It was light, but it was better than nothing. It could get cold some nights.

“You know, I still don’t get why you’re being so nice to him,” Morgana said.

Akira didn’t reply. He walked over to the chair Akechi was sitting on, and tried to lightly but snugly wrap him up.

Morgana hopped onto the counter. “You know what he’s trying to do. You don’t owe him this much.”

The blanket hugged around Akechi’s shoulders and back well. Akira made sure it wouldn’t fall off. He tried very carefully not to touch him. Waking him would be bad, and Akira didn’t want to initiate something that would make him uncomfortable. His jolt from earlier had kept Akira off—he wouldn’t make that mistake again.

Morgana persisted. “You aren’t going to get anything out of this.”

Akira stepped back, and made sure there weren’t any uncovered spots. Akechi looked warm, and he looked soft, and he looked exhausted. Incredibly, incredibly exhausted.

“I know.”

#THANKS for the ask!!!!!#also sorry you had to beta ur own request LMAOOOO #i actually struggled a lot more w this one than u think purely bc i was having trouble with coming up with a premise i liked #this was NOT the first idea i had lololol #oh but not to say i didnt have a lot of fun haha #also for everyone who checks tags first: yes its shuake #AND its about 5k #anyway thank u again and i hope u enjoy (enjoyed? heheh)#my fics #ask #i-demand-a-hug #SORRY TO EVERYONE WHO HAD TO DEAL W THIS WHILE THE READ MORE BROKE #my p5 fics

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puddingheads · 4 years ago

Text

Eternity || Nishinoya Yuu.

In which the small things stay with you, forever.

Warnings: Fluff with slight angst, post time skip spoilers

Word count: ~2.4k

Note: I'm finally writing a fluff fic, but I can't seem to tear myself away from angst. It's extremely minimal here though, and there's a good ending! Special thanks to @rollinguuuthunda for inspiring me to write this (since you rEFUSE to read my angst fics >:()!! And yes, I’m bullying Noya in the summary since he’s shorter than me.

—

“Nishinoya, you got hurt again?” You nagged, firmly tugging at his arms to reveal the bruises littered on his skin. They were big and angry and purple; just the sight of them was enough to make you wince.

“They don’t hurt at all, they’re battle scars!” Nishinoya, ever so cheerful and optimistic, beamed brightly at you. In the two years of knowing him, you’d never seen him bothered by the countless injuries his position inflicted on him.

“Sit down,” settling on the floor cross legged, you patiently waited for him to heed your words. There was no room for disagreement, Nishinoya knew perfectly well that you took his well being very seriously.

He never really understood why, though. He never knew why you would grimace at the new bruises on his arms, or force him into his jacket after every match, or ask if he’d eaten his lunch every time you bumped into him in the halls. (Also, he never noticed how you always coincidentally had a protein bar with you when he would say no.)

“They really don’t hurt, I’m fine!” Nishinoya said, but still sat down despite the reluctance in his voice. Why did you always have ointment in your bag anyway? Compared to him, you barely ever got hurt.

“They will if the ball keeps hitting them,” You retort, huffing quietly while you rubbed the ointment onto the purple spots on his arm. “Stop resisting.”

For the first time, he decided to take notice of your knitted brows and slight pout. Why did you seem so upset? You weren’t the one getting hurt, he’d already assured you that he was fine, and you didn’t have to care so much about him. The subtle look of concern everyone else gave was already more than enough, why did you have to go the extra mile?

And for the first time, the dots in his head started to connect. Maybe, you were worried for him. Maybe, you hated to see him injured as much as he hated to see you frown. Maybe, you liked him as much as he liked you.

“Thanks,” Nishinoya mumbled, all his usual confidence replaced by demureness.

“You’re welcome,” your voice was as soothing as ever, the immense concentration in your eyes stirring something in his chest.

At that moment, everything disappeared. The ache in his thighs, the leftover adrenaline in his veins, the thumping of his heart; everything was drowned out by the featherlight touch of your fingers on his skin.

At that moment, the weight of his arm limp in your hand and the coolness of the ointment on your fingertips told of the trust he had in you. In the warmth of his skin against yours, you felt his new vow—”I’ll take better care of myself to not worry you.”

And at that moment, all he could feel was your fingers rubbing comforting circles on his arm and your silent plea—”I don’t want you to hurt, ever.”

ii.

After days and weeks and months of the push and pull game you had engaged Nishinoya in, he finally scored a date with you. It was in the middle of summer when you agreed to meet him at the park, where the summer festival was held.

Coincidentally, it was the day of the Star Festival, and you couldn’t help but wonder if it was all on purpose. Only Nishinoya would choose such a day, the only day Vega and Altair were allowed to meet, to be the day of your first date. (Well, if it was on purpose, you sure hoped that you’ll still see him the next day. You didn’t want the first date to be the last, after all.)

“Noya, you’re late,” you chastised, watching him jog over to you with a huge smile plastered on his face.

“Sorry,” he laughed, tugging you along to the stands. Immediately, you were swept up by his antics and found yourself having a blast. It was just like him to easily infect you with joy and laughter, just like him to make you forget all your worries.

Spending time with him always felt like a magic carpet ride, bringing you to new places you never knew existed and making you feel emotions you never knew you could feel. It was intoxicating, and soon you found yourself drunk off the dream-like atmosphere.

After hanging your slip of paper with your wish on the wish tree, you turned to Nishinoya. For a second, it felt like a scene from one of your many dreams was playing right before your eyes. His hands firmly pressed together in a fervent prayer for his wish to come true, his brows knitted in the concentration you only ever saw when he was on the court, his lips pursed in unspoken yearning.

Silently, you wondered what he was wishing so desperately for. What more could he ask for, if he already had everything? What could the wish tree bring that he couldn’t attain with his effort?

(He wanted a lot of things, and all of them were related to you.)

His eyes instantly met yours when they finally opened. As if his wish had already been granted, a brilliant smile spread across his face. He fidgeted a little, hands searching himself for an almost-forgotten gift.

“For you,” he beamed, holding out a single forget-me-not. Some of its petals had already fallen from being jostled around throughout the evening, yet it still stood tall and proud, all its yellow and blue on display.

Taking it graciously, you could barely find the words to express the loud drumming of your heart in your chest. Before you could embarrass yourself with a haphazard word of thanks, a gust of wind blew.

The swaying strips of paper on the tree behind Nishinoya painted a meteor shower around his silhouette, adorning his already ethereal form with an otherworldly halo. Along with the wind was the smell of your shampoo, and almost as if he were one of Pavlov’s dogs, his heart instantly started racing and the tension in his shoulders dissipated.

In the wind was you, and in his lungs was the final push for him to fall down the rabbit hole. In the familiar scent of you was your wordless gratitude—”You give me a reason to smile.”

And in the wind was him, and held tight in your hands was the embodiment of his adoration. Under the full moon and colourful lights of the festival, no words were needed. In the sweet scent of the forget-me-not was his shy confession—”You make my heart pound, yet put me at so much ease.”

iii.

“I’m home,” you called out just as you stepped into your apartment and met Nishinoya’s eyes. Instantly, you recognised the nervous glint in his eyes, one you only saw when he broke something after getting carried away with Tanaka. “What did you do now, Yuu?”

“It’s nothing bad!” He was quick to defend himself, even quicker to unload the bags from your tired arms. Ever since you started officially dating Nishinoya, him being in your house on the weekends became a common occurrence.

Following him into your usually pristine kitchen, shock smacked you over the top of your head and sent you stumbling. It was a disaster zone, the counters littered with broken eggs and flour, and a mountain of dirty bowls in the sink. The oven dinged, bringing your attention to a suspicious mound inside.

“Were you baking?” You frowned, examining the crinkled top of the cake.

“Well, it’s our anniversary, and you like cake,” Nishinoya mumbled, pointedly staring at his creation. It wasn’t that bad, but it definitely made you hesitate to have a taste. “It’s your favourite kind, I’m sure you’ll like it!”

In his childlike confidence, you found yourself sighing in defeat. There was no way you could refuse when he was looking at you with so much hope in his eyes.

“Looks like we have two cakes to eat then,” you smiled fondly at him, pulling out a small box from one of the bags you brought home. “I got a slice from the bakery down the street.”

“We must be telepathic!” He exclaimed, excitedly unboxing the store bought slice and setting it next to his home baked one. The stark difference in appearance and his unabashed pride in his cake was hilarious yet endearing.

Deciding not to judge a book by its cover, you coaxed yourself to taste a fallen piece from the fruit of Nishinoya’s labour. Simultaneously, Nishinoya took a bite of the cake you had bought.

In the sweetness of the frosting and the fluffiness of the sponge cake, all Nishinoya could taste was your bashful devotion—”I only want the best for you.”

And in the saltiness of the crumbly cake(he must’ve gotten the salt and sugar mixed up again), all you could taste was his bold resolve—”I’ll do anything for you.”

iv.

“I want to travel the world.” Your fingers that were deftly twirling his hair came to a stop at Nishinoya’s sudden declaration.

“Do you have the money to go?” You asked, mind starting to wander. You’d always known that Nishinoya was a bird meant to fly, always known that Japan was unable to contain his huge dreams, always known that he would jump at any opportunity to explore the unknown. Yet, hearing it outright caught you off guard and got you worrying.

He was still young, still inexperienced, still naive. You saw these as reasons he should stay, he saw them as reasons he should go; for you were careful and he was carefree.

“I have a plan.” He replied, resolution strong in his voice. The confidence he usually emitted was now unable to reassure you, unable to drive away the darkness called unease from your heart.

“How long will you be gone?” With all your being, you wished that he would laugh and tell you it was a joke, like he always did.

“As long as it takes,” shrugging, he shifted to meet your eyes. In the intensity of his gaze, you knew he wasn’t joking. He was dead serious about it, and nothing you said would make him stay.

It wasn’t the first time you heard about his dream of travelling the world and experiencing everything he could, it wasn’t the first time you felt this helpless, and it definitely wasn’t the first time you feared his departure.

Somewhere deep in your heart was fear—a lot of fear. You were afraid of holding him back, afraid of watching him leave and never return, afraid of being away from him. But the day when you had to stop running away from the fear was bound to come; it was inescapable.

“I’m not breaking up with you, of course,” as if he could hear your fears, he continued. “We’ll keep in contact. We may be physically apart, but I’ll never leave. We’re in this together, aren’t we?”

“We are.” You said, mustering all the conviction you could find. Whether it was to convince him or to convince yourself, you weren’t sure.

It took weeks of preparation and arrangements before Nishinoya was able to fly off. You had contemplated if you should send him off, since you were sure to break down in tears once he stepped through the departure gates, but decided to go to the airport anyway. All for seeing him just a little more.

“Wait for me, yeah?” Nishinoya muttered, face buried in your neck as he pulled you in a tight embrace. You hoped the strength in his grip wasn’t due to a hesitance at the last minute.

“I don’t know how I’ll do it without you,” you confessed, not realising the arrows your words pierced through his heart.

In your shaky voice and shallow breaths, he heard your reluctant promise—”No matter how long it takes, I’ll always be right there waiting for you.”

And in his rare moment of silence, you heard his wholehearted oath—”No matter how far I go, I’ll always come back to you.”

Years had passed, both Nishinoya and you had grown more mature, more accustomed to only seeing each other once a year, more familiar with loneliness. But now, Nishinoya’s desire to explore has been satiated, and his journey around the globe has come to an end. He was back.

“Yuu!” The elation in your voice easily drowned out his calling of your name, earning a few glances from the passersby in the airport.

Cupping his cheeks in your hands and resting your forehead against his, you closed your eyes and let out a content sigh. He immediately mirrored you, basking in your presence.

“I’m home,” Nishinoya whispered, pulling away.

“You’re home.” You reciprocated, taking all of him in. He was a little tanner than the previous time you saw him, his eyes a little brighter.

For the first time since you last saw him, everything felt right. With him back, a monotony you never noticed was relieved. With you back, a stability he had forgotten was restored. Being back together brought back memories of the past and gave hope for the future. To be a tad dramatic, you never felt quite as alive when he wasn’t by your side.

Just like the love stories and romance movies, everything around the both of you faded to nothingness. For a split second, it was just the two of you in the entire universe. For that split second, nothing else mattered, since you were with Nishinoya, and he wasn’t going anywhere else.

And in that split second, he decided that it was now or never.

Taking a step away, he fumbled for something in his pocket. As he sunk to one knee, realisation settled in your mind. Oh, oh.

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” Nishinoya declared, eyes glazed over and smile full of anticipation.

In the glittering diamond seated atop the silver band he held up, you saw his wish hung upon the wish tree—

And in the glimmering tears streaming down your cheeks as you nodded your head yes, he saw your wish hung upon the wish tree—

“Stay with me, forever.”

—

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